He is gathering together his men, and they are hasting up to the convent.—Where is the King-child, woman?
Margrete.
[Who has placed herself before the church door.] He sleeps in the sacristy!
Peter.
’Twere the same if he slept on the altar! I have dragged out St. Olaf’s shrine—I fear not to drag out the King-child as well.
Lady Ragnhild.
[Calls to Skule.] And he it is you have loved so deeply!
Margrete.
Father, father! How could you forget us all for his sake?
King Skule.