My son! My son! Woe is me; I have lost your kingdom!
Peter.
No, you will conquer! So great a king’s-thought cannot die!
King Skule.
Peace, peace! [Horns and shouts are heard, nearer at hand.] To horse! To arms! More is here at stake than the life and death of men!
[Rushes out by the back; the others follow him.
A street in Oslo. On each side, low wooden houses, with porches. At the back, St. Hallvard’s churchyard, enclosed by a high wall with a gate. On the left, at the end of the wall, is seen the church, the chief portal of which stands open. It is still night; after a little, the day begins to dawn. The alarm-bell is ringing: far away on the right are heard battle-shouts and confused noises.
King Skule’s Hornblower.
[Enters from the right, blows his horn, and shouts.] To arms! To arms, all King Skule’s men!
[Blows his horn again, and proceeds on his way; presently he is heard blowing and shouting in the next street.