Paul Flida.
He is tearing his cowl to shreds and scourging himself with a whip.
The Voice.
Atone, atone! The last day is come.
Many Voices.
Flee, flee! Woe upon Nidaros. A deed of sin!
King Skule.
What has befallen?
Bård Bratte.
All flee, all shrink away as though a wild beast were in their midst.