Jatgeir.
Get we to arms then! If there be bloodshed to-night, I will gladly be the first to die for you!
King Skule.
You, who would not live for me!
Jatgeir.
A man can die for another's life-work; but if he go on living, he must live for his own. [Goes.
Paul Flida.
[Impatiently.] Your commands, my lord! The Birchlegs may be in Oslo this very hour.
King Skule.
'Twere best if we could fare to St. Thomas Beckett's grave; he has helped so many a sorrowful and penitent soul.
Paul Flida.
[More forcibly.] My lord, speak not so wildly now; I tell you, the Birchlegs are upon us!
King Skule.
Let all the churches be opened, that we may betake us thither and find grace.
Paul Flida.
You can crush all your foemen at one stroke, and yet would betake you to the churches!
King Skule.
Yes, yes, keep all the churches open!
