Håkon.
Wind the horn, wind the horn! [The Hornblower does so.] You blew better, you whelp, when you blew for money on Bergen wharf. [The Hornblower winds another blast, louder than the first; many men come rushing in.
A Vårbælg.
[From the right, fleeing towards the church, pursued by a Birchleg.] Spare my life! Spare my life!
The Birchleg.
Not though you sat on the altar! [Cuts him down.] 'Tis a costly cloak you wear, methinks 'twill fit me well. [Is about to take the cloak, but utters a cry and casts away his sword.] My lord King! Not another stroke will I strike for you!
Dagfinn.
You say that in such an hour as this?
The Birchleg.
Not another stroke!
Dagfinn.
[Cuts him down.] Well, you may e'en let it alone.
The Birchleg.
[Pointing to the dead Vårbælg.] Methought I had done enough when I slew my own brother.
[Dies.
Håkon.
His brother!
