King Skule.
Yes, all flee. [With a cry of joy.] Ha! it matters not. We are saved! See, see—King Olaf’s shrine stands in the middle of the courtyard.
Paul Flida.
King Olaf’s shrine!
Bård Bratte.
Ay, by Heaven—there it stands!
King Skule.
The monks are true to me; so good a deed have they never done before!
Paul Flida.
Hark! the call to the folkmote!