Peter.
But only four men! Up, up, King Skule—now is your kingdom saved!
King Skule.
My kingdom? 'Tis dark, my kingdom—like the angel's that rose against God.
A party of Monks comes from the right.
A Monk.
Who speaks there? Is it King Skule's men.
Paul Flida.
King Skule himself.
The Monk.
[To Skule.] God be praised that we met you, dear lord! Some townsmen gave us to know that you had taken the upward path, and we are no less unsafe than you in Nidaros.
Peter.
You have deserved death, you who denied to give forth St. Olaf's shrine.
The Monk.
The Archbishop forbade it; but none the less we would fain serve King Skule; we have ever held to him. See, we have brought with us robes of our Order for you and your men; put them on, and then can you easily make your way into one convent or another, and can seek to gain grace of Håkon.
