Paul Flida.
It might chance, my lord King, that the Birchlegs had a mind to meet us first.
King Skule.
They have not ships enough for that, nor men.
Paul Flida.
But Arnbiörn Jonsson is gathering both men and ships, all round in Viken.
King Skule.
The better for us; we will crush them at one blow, as we did at Låka.
Paul Flida.
My lord, 'tis not so easy to crush the Birchlegs twice following.
King Skule.
And wherefore not?
Paul Flida.
Because Norway's saga tells not that the like has ever befallen. Shall I send forth scouts to Hoved-isle?
King Skule.
'Tis needless; the night is dark, and there is a sea-fog to boot.
Paul Flida.
Well well, the King knows best; but bethink you, my lord, that all men are against you here in Viken. The townsfolk of Oslo hate you, and should the Birchlegs come, they will make common cause with them.
