[With a sudden outburst.] Best of all to go down to Håkon’s ship and bear away the King-child.
Paul Flida.
Are you distraught?
Bård Bratte.
No, no; ’tis our one hope, and easy enough to do. The Birchlegs are ransacking every house, and keeping watch on all the churches; they think none of us can have taken flight, since all the bridges are broken. There can be but few men on board the ships; when once we have his heir in our power, Håkon must grant us peace, else will his child die with us. Who will go with me to save our lives?
Paul Flida.
Not I, if they are to be saved in such wise.
Several.
Not I! Not I!
Peter.