When the shrine is borne forth, let the horn sound to the folkmote. The host and the townsfolk shall be called together.
Paul Flida.
[To one of the men.] Go forth and bid the hornblower wind his horn in all the streets.
[The man goes.
King Skule.
[Addresses the people from the window.] Hold fast to me, all my sorrowing people. There shall come peace and light over the land once more, as in Håkon’s first glad days, when the fields yielded two harvests every summer. Hold fast to me; believe in me and trust to me; ’tis that I need so unspeakably. I will watch over you and fight for you; I will bleed and die for you, if need be; but fail me not, and doubt not——! [Loud cries, as though of terror, are heard among the people.] What is that?
A Wild Voice.
Atone! Atone!
Bård Bratte.
[Looks out.] ’Tis a priest possessed of the devil!