Citation
The thirsty sword

Material Information

Title:
The thirsty sword a story of the Norse invasion of Scotland, 1262-1263
Creator:
Leighton, Robert, 1859-1934
Pearse, Alfred ( Illustrator )
Blackie & Son ( publisher )
Place of Publication:
London ;
Glasgow ;
Edinburgh ;
Publisher:
Blackie & Son
Publication Date:
Language:
English
Physical Description:
352, 32 p., [10] leaves of plates : ill., maps (some col.) ; 20 cm.

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
Voyages and travels -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Adventure and adventurers -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Swords -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Witches -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Battles -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Islands -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Death -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Kings and rulers -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Revenge -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
History -- Juvenile fiction -- Scotland ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1893
Genre:
novel ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage:
England -- London
Scotland -- Glasgow
Scotland -- Edinburgh
Ireland -- Dublin
Target Audience:
juvenile ( marctarget )

Notes

Statement of Responsibility:
by Robert Leighton ; with illustrations by Alfred Pearse, and a map of the Western Isles of Scotland.

Record Information

Source Institution:
University of Florida
Rights Management:
This item is presumed to be in the public domain. The University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries respect the intellectual property rights of others and do not claim any copyright interest in this item. Users of this work have responsibility for determining copyright status prior to reusing, publishing or reproducing this item for purposes other than what is allowed by fair use or other copyright exemptions. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions may require permission of the copyright holder. The Smathers Libraries would like to learn more about this item and invite individuals or organizations to contact The Department of Special and Area Studies Collections (special@uflib.ufl.edu) with any additional information they can provide.
Resource Identifier:
002392249 ( ALEPH )
ALZ7146 ( NOTIS )
06179032 ( OCLC )

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Full Text




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AASTA GRIPPED HER SWORD AND LEAPT UPON RODERIC.



THE THIRSTY SWORD:

A STORY OF

THE NORSE INVASION OF SCOTLAND,
(1262-1263),

BY

ROBERT LEIGHTON,

Author of “The Pilots of Pomona;” &c.

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY ALFRED PEARSE,
AND 4 MAP OF THE WESTERN ISLES OF SCOTLAND.



LONDON:
BLACKIE & SON, Lrmtrep, 49 OLD BAILEY, E.C
GLASGOW EDINBURGH AND DUBLIN.

1893.






CHAP,
. THE WITCH OF BUTE,

Il.

ITI.

Iv.

VI.

VII.

VIII.

IX.

X.

XI.

XIII.

XIV.

XV.

XVI.

XVIL.

XVIII.

XIX.

XX.

XXL

CONTENTS.

THE DARK FOREST OF BARONE, .



How Ear. RODERIC SPILLED THE SALT,
THE DARKENING HALL, .

A TERRIBLE DISCOVERY, .

ALFIN's Vow OF VENGEANCE, .

THE ARROW OF SUMMONS, .

AN ERIACH-FINE,

THE ORDEAL BY BATTLE,

AASTA’S CURSE,

. THE SworRD OF SOMERLED,

How KENRIC WAS MADE KING, .

THe ‘WuHitr LADY" OF THE MOUNTAIN,
IN SOLEMN, ASSIZE,

THE DOMINION OF THE WESTERN ISLEs,
KEnRIC BEFORE KING ALEXANDER,

How ALLAN REDMAIN KEPT WATCH, .
THE EXPEDITION TO THE ISLAND KINGs,
STORMING AN ISLAND STRONGHOLD,
ALONE WITH DEATH, .

How KENRIC MADE HIMSELF STRONG,

Page

18

24

35

go
95

10g

. 135
. 146

» 156

167

. 180

« 195

. 205



vi
CHAP.
XXII.
XXIII.
XXIV.

XXV.

XXVI.

XXVIL.

XXVIII.

XXIX.

XXX,

XXXI.

CONTENTS.
THE TWO SPIES, .
THE INVASION OF BUTE, .
THE SIEGE OF ROTHESAY CASTLE,
THE GREAT NoRSE INVASION, .
A TRAITOR KNAVE,
THE BATTLE OF LARGS,
AAStTA’S SECRET MISSION,
ELSPETH BLACKFELL,
THE BLACK FROST ON ASCOG MERE,

THE Last DREAD FIGHT,

+ 270
. 286
» 308
+ 319
+ 331

» 343



ILLUSTRATIONS.

Page
‘*AASTA GRIPPED HER SWORD AND LEAPT UPON RODERIC,” frout. 301

RODERIC TRIES TO STRANGLE KENRIC, . ...... .. 60
‘WITH A FIERCE CRY THEY RUSHED TOGETHER,” ... . . 87
AASTA REVEALS ‘'THE THIRSTY SWORD,” . . . . 4. . . 106
TEARING DOWN THE NORWEGIAN FLAG, . . . 2... . . 188
‘‘AASTA PLUNGED HER DAGGER INTO HIS HEART,” . . . . . 227
AASTA BRINGS NEWS OF THE INVASION TO THE KING, . . . 268
‘YOU LIE, VILE WITCH, YOU LIE!” CRIED RODERIC, . . . . 323
Map. of the:Isle of Bute, 2 ree oe Oe

Map of the Western Isles (southern section), . . . . . facing 178


































THE THIRSTY SWORD

CHAPTER IT.
THE WITCH OF BUTE.

JH, if only Kenric were here!”

It was on the evening of a bright
day in June, in the year 1262, and a
girl, clasping her hands in distress,
walked restlessly to and fro on the bank of a
stream that tinkled merrily along its gravelly
bed towards the sea. She, in her loose gown
of gray woollen homespun and girdle of crimson
silk, was then the only figure to be seen for
miles around. Far to the south were the blue
mountains of Arran, and westward across the
Sound were the brown hills of Kintyre, with the
rosy light of the setting sun behind them. The
girl, shading her eyes from the strong light,
looked over the moorland towards the castle of
Kilmory.

“If Kenric were but here!” she said again.
And as she turned to run to the stream, all





10 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

suddenly she was startled by the sound of a
heavy thud upon the heather at her feet. She
looked round and saw that a large capercailzie
had fallen there. The bird was dead, and there
was an arrow in its breast.

At the same moment there was a lusty shout
of joy from among the trees and a stalwart youth
came bounding towards her. In his right hand
he bore a long-bow, and at his belt were hung a
dead hare and a brace of wild moor-fowl, whose
dripping blood trickled down his sturdy legs.

« Ailsa!” he cried in surprise, seeing the girl
as he came to secure the bird he had just killed.
“Vou here so late, and alone?”

Ailsa’s fair cheeks grew rosy as the evening
sky, for the youth was he whom she had wished
for, Kenric, the son of the brave Earl Hamish
of Bute, and now that he was so near her she
felt suddenly timid.

He was a lad of sixteen years, not tall, but
very thickset and stout built, broad shouldered,
deep chested, and strong limbed. His long
silky locks were a rich nut-brown, and _ his
sparkling eyes were dark and gentle as those
of a fallow-deer. The sun and the bracing
sea-air had made ruddy his fair skin, even to
his firm, round throat and his thick arms, that
were left bare by his rough coat of untanned
buckskin. ;



THE WITCH OF BUTE II

“You have been weeping, Ailsa,” said he,
looking into her tearful eyes.

“Sir,” said she, speaking, as he did, in the
guttural Gaelic tongue, “come, I beseech you,
to the help of two poor ouzels, whose nest is far
in under the roots of yonder birch-tree. If you
help not quickly, their little fledglings will be
eaten up by a thieving stoat that has but a few
moments ago entered their nest.”

“You make needless dole, Ailsa, over a pair
of worthless birds and their chicks,” said he
scornfully. “Why, I have this day slain a full
half-score of birds! Ay, and right willingly
would I have doubled their number.”

“The birds you have slain are for men’s food,”
said she, “but the birds I speak of sing as
sweetly as the mavis, and I have watched them
tenderly for many sunny days past. Rescue
them for me, good Kenric, for I love them right
well, and I would not for the world that any ill
should befall them.”

Then Kenric went with her to the stream’s
bank, and as he stood there his keen eyes saw
something move across the short grass at the
water’s edge. Promptly he put an arrow to his
bow-string and took deft aim. The shaft sped
quickly to its mark, plunged into the body of a
stoat, and pinned the animal to the soft turf.

“ There, Ailsa,” said he, “the murderous thief



12 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

is justly punished!” and springing down the
bank he put his heel upon the writhing animal
and lightly drew out his arrow from its body,
while Ailsa picked up the bleeding fledgling
that the stoat had been carrying away in its
teeth. She took the maimed little bird to the
birch-tree that Kenric might restore it to its
nest. But at the mouth of the nest lay the dead
body of one of the parent birds, and hovering
near it was the mother ouzel, uttering sharp
cries of distress at the murder of her mate and
little one.

“ And now,” said Kenric, “I must hie me back
to St. Blane’s, for our good Abbot Godfrey bade
me be with him ere nightfall. Where is your
brother Allan? Say, was he of those who went
with my father and Alpin to the hunting in
Glen More this forenoon?”

But Ailsa was again weeping over the fate of
her water-ouzels and did not answer him.

Ailsa was some two years younger than him-
self. They had been companions from the time
of their infancy. Her father, Sir Oscar Red-
main, of Kilmory Castle, was the steward ot
Earl Hamish of Bute, and Ailsa was even as a
sister to the two lads of Rothesay Castle. With
Kenric, the younger of the earl’s sons, she had
been taught what little there was to be learned
in those rude times, under Godfrey Thurstan,



THE WITCH OF BUTE. 13

the Abbot of St. Blane’s, a wise and holy man
who, next to Earl Hamish himself, was held in
the highest honour of all men in Bute.

Now, just as Kenric, unable to soothe Ailsa,
was turning to leave her, a shadow passed
between him and the evening sunlight, and at
the head of the bank there walked an aged
woman, bearing upon her bent back a bundle of
faggots. Ailsa raised her blue eyes, and at
sight of the old woman shrank back and felt in
her dark hair for the sprig of feathery rowan
leaves that she wore there as a charm against
witchcraft.

“Give you good e’en, my lord of Bute,” said
the old woman, seeing Kenric and dropping her
bundle on the ground. At these strange words
Kenric’s cheeks grew crimson.

“Tam no lord, Elspeth Blackfell,” said he,
going nearer and trying to fathom her meaning
in her wrinkled and grimy face, “and I know
no reason for your calling me by that high
name.”

“ Not yet,” said the old crone, “not yet. But
by my sooth, the time will surely come, and
that full speedily, when all shall hail you lord of
Bute.”

“T seek no sooth from such as you,” said
Kenric frowning; “and you shall win naught
from me by your false flatteries,”



14 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

Just then he felt the hand of Ailsa drawing
him back as though to keep him from the
blighting touch of the old woman’s bony fingers.

“Go not so near to her!” whispered the girl,
making the sign of the cross. “Let her not
touch you with her evil hands, lest she put her
enchantments upon you.”

Old Elspeth smiled grimly, and showed the
one lonely tooth that was in the front of her
shrunken gums.

“ Heed not the child’s silly fears,” said she to
Kenric, “and tell me, for what cause has she
been weeping?”

“Tt was a stoat that harried an ouzel’s nest
and slew the birds,” replied Kenric.

‘“ Bairns weep at trifles,” said Elspeth; “ what
matters the death of a little bird? The stoat
must live by the food that the great God gives
it, and the birds must die when their time comes.
’Tis alike with all God’s creatures upon earth.
Even the castle of Rothesay is no more free at
this moment from its secret enemy than is the
smallest wild-fowl’s nest.”

“The castle of Rothesay?” repeated Kenric.
“ Set me none of your riddles, Elspeth, for they
are harder to read even than the abbot’s missals.
What is your meaning? My father has not an
enemy in all the isles. Who, then, would do
him an injury?”



THE WITCH OF BUTE. 15

“Speed you home to Rothesay and see with
your own eyes,” said Elspeth, taking up her
bundle of faggots again; “ Earl Hamish ‘of Bute
is in great danger, I say. Go to him now, I
charge you, and give him my warning against
the enemy who is within his gates.”

And at that she hobbled away down the
hillside towards the little wooden hut that was
her home. As she went the red sun sank
behind the dark hills of Kintyre. Kenric stood
in doubt.

“T marvel that you will dare to hold speech
with that evil hag,” said Ailsa. “’Tis our own
good fortune if she have not already cast her
eldritch spells upon us both.”

“Nay, Ailsa; fear her not. She is but a poor
harmless body,” said Kenric. ‘“ Only the witless
carls and cottar folk are so simple as to believe
that she has aught of evil in her words.”

“ Ah, but I well know that Elspeth is a witch,”
declared Ailsa. “Never do I see her but I
must shrink away and cross myself in dread of
her. Why do all the brave men of Bute fear
her more than they would fear a band of armed
Norsemen? She casts her spells upon our kine
so that they give no milk, and upon the fountains
so that the clear drinking water is turned rank
and brown. Allan told me but yesternight that
she rides over to Inch Marnock in a boat that



16 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

has neither sails nor oars, and that the ribs of
the boat are of dead men’s bones.”

Kenric smiled no more at Ailsa’s fears; for,
indeed, so great was the superstition of that
time, that deep in his heart he believed no less
strongly than did Ailsa that Elspeth was as-
suredly a witch.

“And what meant she by her warnings of an
enemy in your father’s castle?” added Ailsa.

“Little reck I that,” returned Kenric, “for
never lived man in all the Western Isles who
had so few enemies as my good father.”

“Right so,” said Ailsa. ‘“ But none the less,
Elspeth is a most wise soothsayer, and you are
unwise if you heed not her warning. And now
I mind me that on this very day, as I was
returning from matins, a great ship of twelve
banks of oars came in from the west through
Kilbrannan Sound, and it let anchor in Scalpsie
Bay. As I looked upon that ship three tall
warriors were brought ashore in a small boat,
and, landing, they walked along the shore towards
Rothesay.”

“Three tall warriors, say you?”

“Even so. Lulach the shepherd boy also
saw them, and said that they were surely three
of King Hakon’s men of the Northland. And
Lulach was much afraid of them, and he fled

from their sight lest by chance they should learn
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18 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

that he was a Dane, and seek to carry him off.
But now, Kenric, I must away, for the night is
coming on and you have far to go. Yonder is
Lulach driving home my father’s kine. Go to
him and he will tell you of these strange men.”

So Ailsa and Kenric bade each other good-
night, and Kenric sped lightly over the heather
to where the young shepherd was driving home
the long-horned cattle.

CHAPTER IL
THE DARK FOREST OF BARONE,

HEN Lulach heard a shrill whistle from
afar and saw Kenric, he tarried a while
that the cattle might begin to browse upon the
lush grass that grew on the marshes beside the
sea. Then he went forth to meet him, and
threw himself on his knees before him, for
Lulach was a thrall, and it was his custom thus
to pay homage to the sons of the brave lord of
Bute.

“Rise, Lulach, rise!” said Kenric, speaking
now in the Norse tongue that the lad might
better understand him. “And tell me, what
manner of men were the three strangers you saw
landing in the bay of Scalpsie this forenoon?”



THE DARK FOREST OF BARONE. 19

“They were men out of the North, my master.
I heard them speaking in my own tongue,” said
Lulach, throwing back his long red hair that
had fallen over his sun-tanned face.

“And were they men of peace?”

“T know not, my master; but much did I fear
them, for never knew I a Norseman yet who
was not cruel to me; and seeing them I hid
myself behind a rock.”

“Cowardly hind! You are but fit to drive
a herd of kine. Of what aspect were these
men?”

“ The one who led them was even as a king,”
said Lulach. “He was tall and strong, and his
footing was firm upon the heath. He wore a
helm crested with a golden dragon, and a great
sword at his side. I thought that surely it was
the Earl Hamish of Bute himself, for were it
not that the stranger’s hair was of the colour of
the fox’s coat, never saw I a man that more
resembled your father.”

“ And his followers, what of them?”

“One was an aged man with a silver beard.
The other might be his son. Ah, I wot they
are come for no good purpose, my master, for
they landed when the tide was low, and that
bodes ill for Bute.”

“ Heaven forfend!” said Kenric, growing un-
easy at the thought. “And now,” added he,



20 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

loosing the dead birds from his girdle, ‘take
me these grouse to the abbey, and tell the good
abbot that I come not to St. Blane’s this night,
but that I go home to the castle to see who these
strangers may be, and to learn their purpose.”

But as Lulach was taking the game into his
hands, he drew back and pointed with trembling
finger to the green path that led towards Rothe-
say.

“See!” he exclaimed, “there is ill-luck before
you! Turn back, my master, turn back!”

“Ah! a magpie, and alone!” cried Kenric,
seeing the bird in his path. “ That is ill-luck
indeed! Give me some salt from your wallet,
Lulach, for if this sign reads true then it were
unwise in me to go farther without some salt in
my pocket.”

« Alas!” said Lulach, “I have none. My
wallet is empty!”

“Then God be my protection!” said Kenric,
and with that he went on his way, feeling a
dread foreboding at his heart.

The light of day had faded from the sky as

-he passed by the black waters of Loch Dhu;
but there was a silvery glare above the jagged
peaks of the Arran fells, and he knew that the
moon was rising, and that he would soon have
her friendly light to guide him through the dark
pine forest of Barone,



THE DARK FOREST OF BARONE, 21

All was calm and still, but through the still-
ness the hollow sound of a waterfall among the
far-off mountains came to him like the moaning
cry of a dying man. At that sound he felt his
heart beating uneasily against his side, for that
same cry, which rises from all mountain streams
towards nightfall, was beforetime held to be of
ill-omen when heard from a distance, and Kenric
was in a likely mood to be impressed by such
a sign.

When he came to the borders of the forest he
was almost afraid to venture among the gloomy
shadows of the trees, Therein, as he believed,
dwelt many strange and mysterious elves, that
were wont to lead travellers astray to their
destruction. But he must pass through that
forest or else go round many miles across the
hills; so he braced his girdle tighter about him
and boldly plunged into the darkness. As he
went forth the plaintive cry of the curlew high
up above the tree-tops startled him more than
once, and the sudden movement of every wild
beast and bird that his own footsteps had
frightened filled him with new fears.

In the broad daylight neither man nor beast
could have had power to daunt him. He was,
when put to his mettle, one of the most
courageous and daring youths in the island,
and, saving only his elder brother Alpin, who



22 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

was the bravest swordsman of his own age in
all the land, there was none who might attempt
to draw arms against Kenric. And, in truth,
had it not been that he was sorely troubled in
Spirit concerning the strange words of Elspeth
Blackfell, and also that so many omens had
foretold disaster, it may be that even on that
same night he would have passed through the
dark avenues of the forest with neither doubt
nor tremor.

But in an age when the meaning of nature’s
work was little understood, when even religion
was not yet strong enough to conquer the
superstition which found evil in things which
were only mysteries, it was small wonder that
young Kenric of Bute should wish himself
safely at home in his father’s castle, or regret that
he had not gone back to the abbey of St. Blane.

Nevertheless it was not alone the thought of
trolls and elfins that disturbed him. At that
time the wild boar and the wolf were denizens
of the forest wherein he walked—animals which
would indeed be welcomed in the daylight by
a band of hunters with their spears and hounds,
but which might give some trouble to a youth
appearing alone in their midst on a dark night.

At one moment when he was deep within the
heart of the forest he thought he heard hurried
footsteps behind him. He felt for his dirk and



THE DARK FOREST OF BARONE. 23

turned round. The moon’s beams pierced the
trees and fell upon a glistening pool of water
where a wild cat was slaking its thirst. There
was naught else that might cause him alarm.

But in a little while he heard the same sound
again—this time in advance of him. He stood
still, In the shadow of a great bare rock he
saw two staring eyes that shone like gleaming
fires, now green, now red, and he knew that
they were the eyes of a wolf. There was a low
growl as of distant thunder. Then the moon’s
light shot through a rack of cloud, and he saw
the form of the wolf standing out clear and
black against the grey rock. He fixed an arrow
to his bow-string; but at the sound of the creak-
ing bow the wolf gave a sharp yelp and dis-
appeared into the darkness beyond.

Kenric, bolder now, unbent his bow and
stepped towards the rock that he might see
whither the wolf had fled. In an open glade
that was behind the rock he saw, instead of the
wolf, a strange tall figure standing in the moon-
light. It was the figure of a woman, wondrously
fair and beautiful. Her long hair, that fell over
her shoulders, was as the colour of blood, and
her white bare arm, that shone like marble in
the pale light, seemed to be pointing the way to
Rothesay Castle. In her other hand she held
a long bright-bladed sword.



24. THE THIRSTY SWORD.

Now whether this figure appearing so mysteri-
ously before him was indeed that of a woman
of human flesh, or, as he feared, the vision of some
ghostly dweller in the pine forest, Kenric could
not at that moment have told. Even as he
stepped farther into the glade a dark cloud again
obscured the moon and all was black night
around him, and no sound could he hear but the
beating of his own heart and the whispering of
the wind among the trees.

CHAPTER III.
HOW EARL RODERIC SPILLED THE SALT.

N that same June evening, in the year 1262,
whilst Kenric was at the stream-side with
Ailsa Redmain, the three strangers who had
landed earlier in the day on the shores of Bute
were feasting in the great banqueting-hall of the
castle of Rothesay. For although to the tir id
lad Lulach and to Ailsa they had appeared in
the guise of enemies, yet each of the three was
known to the Earl Hamish. Their leader
was, in truth, none other than his own brother,
the Earl Roderic of the Isle of Gigha. The
other two were Erland the Old of Jura, and
Sweyn the Silent of Colonsay.



HOW EARL RODERIC SPILLED THE SALT. 25

What their unexpected mission to the lord
of Bute might be had yet to be learnt. But
when, betimes, they came to the gate of Rothesay
Castle they found Earl Hamish and his steward,
Sir Oscar Redmain, on the point of setting out
on a hunting expedition into the wilds of Glen
More. And of the band of hunters were Kenric’s
elder brother Alpin and young Allan Redmain.

So when the strangers entered the castle and
had. broken bread and refreshed their deep
throats with wine, they left their swords and
dirks in the armoury and took bows and hunt-
ing-spears. Thus equipped, they set off with
Earl Hamish and his merry men and long-
limbed hounds. And they had great sport that
day, coming back at sunset with a wild boar
that Earl Roderic had slain, and three antlered
stags and other spoil.

In their absence Kenric’s mother, the Lady
Adela, had made prepare a feast for them all,
with much venison and roasted beef and stewed
black-cock, with cakes of bread, both white and
brown, and many measures of red wine and
well-spiced liquors. A silver drinking-bowl was
set down for each of the kingly guests, and a
goblet of beaten gold for the king of Bute.

The hall was lighted with many cruse-lamps
that hung suspended from the oaken joists, and,
lest the evening should be chill, there was a fire



26 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

of fragrant pine logs blazing on the open hearth.
Round the walls of the hall, that were panelled
with black oak boards, there were many glitter-
ing shields and corselets, with hunting-horns and
various trophies of the chase.

At the fireside there sat an aged minstrel,
whose duty it was to fill in the intervals of the
feast with the music of his harp, or, if need were,
to recite to the company the saga of King
Somerled and other great ancestors of the kings
of Bute.

Earl Hamish —a tall, courtly Highlander,
with sad eyes and a long brown beard—sat at
the head of the board, that with his own strong
hands he might carve the steaming venison.
At his right hand sat the earl of Jura, Erland
the Old, and at his left Earl Sweyn the Silent.
His beautiful wife, the Lady Adela—attired in
a rich gown inwoven with many devices of silk,
and spun by the Sudureyans—sat facing him at
the far end of the board. At her right hand sat
Earl Roderic of Gigha; and at her left Alpin,
her son.

So the feast began, with much merry dis-
course of how the men had fared that day at the
hunting in Glen More.

Now Erland and Sweyn, kinglings of Jura
and Colonsay, though owing yearly tribute to
their overlord, Alexander the Third of Scot-



HOW EARL RODERIC SPILLED THE SALT. 27

land, were both men of the North, and they
spoke with Earl Hamish in the Norse tongue.
Their discourse, which has no bearing upon the
story, was mainly of cattle and sheep, and of
the old breast-laws of the Western Isles. But
Roderic of Gigha spoke in the Gaelic, which
the Lady Adela, though an Englishwoman born,
could well understand.

“ Ah, but,” said he, addressing young Alpin,
who had been boasting of the manly sports that
might be enjoyed in his father’s dominions,
“you should one day come to Gigha, for there,
I do assure you, we have adventure such as you
never dream of in Bute.”

“J marvel, my lord, how that can be,” said
Allan Redmain scornfully, “for the kingdom of
which you boast is but a barren rock in the mid-
sea, and methinks your beasts of the chase are
but vermin rats and shrew-mice.”

“The sports of which I speak, young man,”
said Roderic, frowning and wiping his red beard
with his broad hand, “are not such bairns’ play
as you suppose. Our beasts of the chase are
burly men, and our hunting-ground is the wide
ocean. I and my gallant fellows carry our
adventures far into the north to Iceland and
Scandinavia, or southward even into the land of
the Angles, where there is sport in plenty for
those who would seek it.”



28 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

The Lady Adela looked up in shocked sur-
prise. “But,” said she, “you do not surely
count the Angles among your enemies, my lord?
The Scots are at peace these many years with
my country England.”

“T should be grieved to call any man my
enemy who is your friend, my fair Lady Adela,”
said Roderic gallantly. “But though the Scots
be indeed at peace with King Henry, yet the
brave Easterlings of Ireland do ofttimes find the
need of slaying a few of your proud countrymen;
and if I help them—well, where there is aught
to be gained what matters it who our victims
be, or what lands we invade? I am for letting
him take who has the power to conquer. Let
them keep their own who can. What say you,
Sir Oscar? Am I not right?”

“Tam a man of peace, Earl Roderic,” said
Sir Oscar Redmain gravely. “I have no
enemies but the enemies of my king and country.
And methinks, my lord, that a loyal subject of
the King of Scots is but a traitorous hound if
he stoop to take arms in favour of either Easter-
ling or Norseman, and against our good friends
of England. You, my lord, may perhaps pay
fealty to King Hakon of Norway, as well as to
his majesty Alexander of Scotland. It is not
all men who can make it so easy to serve two
masters.”



HOW EARL RODERIC SPILLED THE SALT. 29

“A traitorous hound, forsooth! You surely
mistake me, Sir Oscar,” cried Roderic, reddening
at the reproach. “TI said not that I paid truage
to any king but our own King of Scots, God bless
him! And though, indeed, King Alexander is
but a stripling, knowing little of kingcraft, yet,
even though he were a babe in arms, he and no
other is still my sovereign lord.” And at that
he raised his goblet to his lips and drank a deep
draught of wine. Then, lightly turning to the
lady of Rothesay, and helping her to cut up the
venison on her platter, that she might the more
easily take the small pieces in her dainty white
fingers, he said:

“ After the rough roving life that I have been
leading these many years, my lady, ’tis truly a
great joy to come back once more to the peace-
ful Isle of Bute. Much do I envy my good
brother Hamish, in that he hath so beauteous a
partner as yourself to sit before him at his board.
Truly he is a most fortunate man!”

Adela’s fair cheeks blushed rosy red at this
compliment, but she did not smile.

“Methinks, Lord Roderic,” said she, nervously
breaking the white bread-cake at her side, “that
with so small a distance between Bute and
Gigha, you might surely have come to visit
your brother long ere this present time. For
although Earl Hamish hath ofttimes spoken of



30 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

you, yet never until this day have I seen you;
and ’tis well-nigh a score of years that I have
lived in Bute.”

“ Alas!” said Roderic, looking uneasy, “ since
my poor father, Earl Alpin, died, I have had
little spirit to come back to these scenes. It
was in anger that my brother and I parted,
when, as you well know, the lordship over the
two islands was divided. . The larger dominion
of Bute fell to the share of Hamish. I, as the
younger son, was perforce content to take the
miserable portion that I now possess. Gigha is
but a small island, my lady.”

“Our happiness need not depend upon the
extent of our dominions, Lord Roderic,” said
Adela; “and J doubt not you are passing happy,
notwithstanding that you have but a younger
son’s inheritance.”

“Not so,” said Roderic, planting his heavy
elbows on the board; “for where can a man
find happiness when those who are dearest to
him have been torn away?”

“Then you have had sorrows?” questioned
the lady.

“When I went forth to take the kingship of
my island home,” said he, “my life was indeed
most bright and joyous; and on a time it befell
that I went north to Iceland, and there I met
one who (with submission I say it) was not less



HOW EARL RODERIC SPILLED THE SALT. 31

beautiful than yourself, my lady. She was the
most beauteous damsel that ever came out of
the Northland, and her name was Sigrid the
Fair. I married her and we were happy.”

Roderic again filled his drinking bowl and
looked across the table at Alpin’s handsome
brown face.

“We had two children,” he continued sadly.
“The girl would have been of the years of your
own son there, the boy was two summers
younger than she.”

“ Oh, do not tell me that they are dead!” cried
Adela.

“Alas! but that is so,” he sighed. “One sunny
day they went out hand in hand from our castle
to play, as was their wont, among the rocks and
caves that are at the south of our island. Never
since then have they returned, and some said
that the water-kelpie had taken them and carried
them away to his crystal home under the sea.
Others whispered that the kraken or some other
monster of the deep had devoured them. They
said these things, believing that Sigrid had no
heart for her children, and that she was unkind
to them. But many days thereafter I learned
that a strange ship had been seen bearing out-
ward between Gigha and Cara; and it was the
ship of Rapp the Icelander, the cruellest sea-
rover that ever sailed upon the western seas.



32 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

Then did I believe that neither kelpie nor
kraken had taken my bairns, but Rapp the
Rover.

“So I got ship and followed him. For three
long years | followed in his track—to the frozen
shores of Iceland, and into every vic and fiord
in Scandinavia. Southward then I sailed to
the blue seas of England—always behind him
yet never encountering him. But at last there
came a day of terrible tempest. The thunder-
god struck my ship and we were wrecked.
Every man that was on board my ship was
drowned saving only myself, for the white sea-
mew swims not more lightly on the waters than
I. So I was picked up by a passing vessel, and
it was the vessel of Rapp the Icelander. In-
stead of killing him I loved him, in that he had
saved my life. Then he told me, swearing by
St. Olaf, that never in all his time of sea-roving
had he touched at the little island of Gigha, and
that he knew naught soever of the dear children
I had lost.”

“Greatly do I pity you, Earl Roderic,” said
Adela, clasping her hands. “And you have not
yet found trace of your little ones?”

“No,” said Roderic. “And now do I believe
that they are still at play in the crystal halls oi
the water-kelpie, whence no man can rescue
them.”



TIOW EARL RODERIC SPILLED THE SALT, 33

“And your wife Sigrid, what of her?” asked
Sir Oscar Redmain.

“When I got back to Gigha,” murmured
Roderic, “they told me that in my absence she
had gone mad, and that in her frenzy she had
cast herself from the cliffs into the sea. Whither-
soever I have gone since that sad time, there
have I found unhappiness.” ;

The Lady Adela looked upon the man with
gentle pity in her dark eyes. She felt how dif.
ferent had been his lot from hers and her dear
husband’s. For notwithstanding that she dwelt
in a country not her own, and among people
who spoke a foreign tongue, yet she was very
happy. The Earl Hamish loved her well and
was ever good to her. And their two sons,
Alpin and Kenric, growing up into manhood,
were very dear to her heart.

She was the daughter of a proud English
baron, who had wide dominions near the great
city of York. Twenty years before, Earl Ham-
ish of Bute had been sent with other wise coun-
sellors by King Alexander the Second on a
mission to the court of the English king, Henry
the Third, concerning the great treaty of peace
between England and Scotland, and also to con-
sider the proposal of a marriage between the
daughter of the King of England and the son

of the King of Scots. The treaty established a
(746 ) Cc



34 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

peace which had not yet been broken, and the
Princess Margaret of England was now the
Queen of Scotland. But while on that embassy
to York Earl Hamish of Bute won more than
the gratitude of his sovereign, for he won the
heart of the Lady Adela Warwick, and, making
her his wife, he brought her to his castle of
Rothesay, where she had lived happily ever
since.

She was thinking of these matters as she heard
Earl Roderic’s story of his great unhappiness,
and her eyes were fixed dreamily before her.

Now Roderic, to whom the presence of this
sweet and beautiful lady was a new experience,
observed her pensiveness and wondered thereat.
His roving glance presently fell upon her plate.
“Ah!” said he, “you have no salt, my lady.”
And thereupon he took her knife and dug its
point into the salt-horn.

“Nay, nay!” she cried in alarm; and she
grasped his wrist so that he spilled the salt upon
the table.

“What have you done?” he exclaimed. “This
is the most unlucky thing that could have hap-
pened! Alas, alas!”

“Would you, then, have helped my lady to
sorrow?” cried Sir Oscar Redmain, rising wrath-
fully. “ By the rood, but you are a thoughtless
loon!”



THE DARKENING HALL. 35

Earl Hamish at the head of the board, hearing
his lady’s cry, rose hastily and approached her,
and saw that she was very pale. ‘‘I will retire,”
said she, “for the hall is over-warm. I am faint
and uneasy.”

Earl Hamish led her to the door. There he
kissed her fondly on her white brow and she
went to her chamber.

CHAPTER IV.
THE DARKENING HALL.

HE lord of Bute sat not down again, for
the feast was at anend. Sir Oscar Red-
main, minding that he had to travel all the way
to Kilmory that night, went to his master and
spoke with him aside. While the earl and his
steward were thus engaged, a tall seneschal with
his serving men came into the hall to clear away.
the remains of the banquet; and as the old
minstrel left his place at the fireside to continue
his harping in the supping-room of the guards,
the two lads, Alpin of Bute and Allan Redmain,
stepped to the hearth to hold converse with the
three guests.
Alpin and his young friend were both about
nineteen years of age. They were almost full-



36 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

grown, and manly exercise had made them
strong. They wore their rough hunting clothes
—loose vests of leather, homespun kilts, and
untanned buskins. They carried no weapons,
for it was held in custom that none should sit
armed at table in the presence of strangers.

“Tell me, Earl Roderic,” said Alpin, running
his fingers through his long hair—“ you have,
you say, been in far-off Iceland—tell me, is it
true that in that land there be many mountains
that shoot forth fire and brimstone?”

« Ay, that is quite true, my lad,” said his much-
travelled uncle, “for I have myself seen such
mountains. - Higher than Goatfell they are, with
streams of fire pouring down their glens.”

“A most marvellous country!” exclaimed Alpin.
“T wonder much if I shall ever behold that land.”

“There you will have no such lordly feast as
that we have just risen from,” added Roderic,
picking his teeth with his broad thumb-nail.

Alpin and Allan watched him, hoping he would
tell them something of his roving life. Roderic,
finding that he could not easily dislodge the
piece of meat from betwixt his teeth, picked up
a twig of pine-wood from the hearth, and took
from the table the large knife with which his
brother had carved the venison, and as he began
to sharpen the little twig to a point he con-
tinued: ;



THE DARKENING HALL. 37

“ No roasted beef there nor venison, but good
tough whale-flesh, black as a peat, or else a few
candle-ends—for the Icelanders are fond of fat.
Once when I was ship-broken on their coasts
naught could my shipmates find to eat but reasty
butter. Disliking that alone, we took our ship’s
cable, that was made of walrus-hide, and
smearing the cable with butter we bolted mor-
sels of it, by which means we managed to exist
for fourteen days. There,” he said, finishing his
toothpick, “that will serve. °Tis strange, is it
not, Master Alpin, what a piece of steel can do?”
And then, first looking at its point, he laid the
long knife carelessly upon the shelf above the
hearth. “Why, in Norway, where I have also
been, your man can take his knife and two slips
of wood nine ells long, and he will so shape the
wood that when the two slips are fitted to his
feet he can outstrip a bird, a hound, or a deer.”

“ Does he, then, fly with them in the air, as a
witch on her broom?” asked Allan Redmain.

“Why, no; he skates along the ice or snow,”
returned Roderic. “With such instruments and
a snowy ground, master Redmain, you might be
back at your castle of Kilmory in two flickers of
arush-light. Go you to Kilmory to-night?”

“Ves,” said Allan, “we go at once, for now
I see my father is ready. Give you good-night,
my lords.”



38 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

“Good-night, boy,” said the three guests. And
Allan, with his father and Alpin, then left the hall.

Two of the cruse-lamps had by this time spent
their oil, and their flames had died out. Earl
Hamish was now alone with his guests.

«“ Shall we,” said he, “retire to the smaller hall,
Roderic? I have ordered Duncan to take some
spiced wine there for us.”

“J like the odour of the log-fire here,” said
Roderic, exchanging glances with Erland the
Old. “I pray you let us remain here a while.”

Earl Hamish and his brother stood side by
side, looking into the fire, while Sweyn the Silent
and Erland the Old sat them at either corner
of the hearth. The two brothers were much
alike in stature, both being tall and broad; but
Hamish was gentler, and his every movement
showed that he was accustomed to the company
of those who deemed a courtly bearing of more
account than mere bodily prowess, though in
truth he lacked not that either. His hair and
beard, too, were dark, touched here and there
with the frost of age; while his brother’s long
hair was red as the back of the fox.

“Well, Hamish,” began Roderic, moving un-
easily on his feet, “you have, as I have heard,
won your way into the good graces of our lord
the King?”

“T trust,” said Hamish, “that I may never be



THE DARKENING HALL. 39

accused of disloyalty. J am ever at my sove-
reign’s service in whatsoever he commands me
to do.”

“What, even though the doing of that ser-
vice be to your own great disadvantage?” said
Roderic, looking aside at Earl Sweyn and smil-
ing grimly.

“Naught can be to my disadvantage that is
done in dutiful service of my country and King,”
answered the lord of Bute proudly.

Roderic laughed scornfully, and his laugh was
echoed by Sweyn and Erland.

“There may be two thoughts as to that,” re-
turned Roderic. ‘As for myself, ?d snap my
fingers in the King’s face ere I would go on a
journey such as you have newly undertaken, my
brother. Think not that we have no eyes nor
ears in the outer isles, Earl Hamish; for it is
known in every castle between Cape Wrath and
the Mull of Kintyre that you have but now
returned from a mission to King Hakon of
Norway.”

“And what though it were yet more widely
known?” said Hamish in surprise. “Am I, then,
the only lord in all the isles who remains true to
his oaths of fealty? And are they all as you
are, Roderic, who have failed these many years
to pay due tribute to the King of Scots?”

“You are the only one among us,” croaked



40 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

_Erland the Old, “who pays not homage to our
rightful lord and sovereign the good King
Hakon.”

“J owe no sort of fealty to Norway,” said
Hamish. “Nor do I know by what right Hakon
claims sovereignty over any one of the isles south
of Jona.”

“Methinks,” said Sweyn the Silent, looking
up under his dark brows, “that Harald Fairhair
settled that matter a good four hundred years
ago.”

“Right well am I aware that at such time
Harald did indeed conquer the Western Isles—
ay, even to Bute and Arran”-—returned Earl
Hamish. “But methinks, my lord of Colonsay,
that my own ancestor the great king Somerled
(God rest him!) did at least wrest the isles of
Bute, Arran, and Gigha from the power of Nor-
way. Those three island kingdoms do to this
day owe truage to no overlord saving only the
King of Scots, and to Alexander alone will I
pay homage.”

At that Earl Roderic’s eyes found their way
to the shelf that was above the hearth, and his
two friends, following his glance, saw the knife
upon the shelf and smiled. From the halls below,
where the guards and servitors were feasting,
came the strains of the minstrel’s harp and a
henchman’s joyous song of triumphant battle.



HE DARKENING HALL. 4i

“Tis then no marvel,” said Roderic, “that the
young King of Scots, like his father before him,
has made of you a willing cat’s-paw. On what
fool’s errand went you to Norway?”

“That,” said the lord of Bute, “is quickly
told;” and he looked round for a moment, ob-
serving that all the lamps save one had burned
out their feeble lights. “I went to Norway,
bearing letters to King Hakon from the King
of Scots and his majesty of England, King Henry
the Third.”

“His majesty of England!” exclaimed all three.

“Henry of England is no more a friend to
the Norseman than is Alexander,” said Hamish,
as he pressed down the burning logs with his
foot. “And I do assure you, my lords, that both
are well prepared to resist the incursions of King
Hakon’s vassals.”

“And what manner of princely reward got
you for your trouble as letter-bearer?” asked
Roderic in a tone of injured envy.

“Ten score head of Highland cattle, I would
guess,” muttered Erland the Old.

“ Nay, twenty score, rather,” chimed in Sweyn
the Silent.

“Methinks, brother Hamish,” said Roderic
hoarsely, as he stepped nearer to him and looked
with an evil scowl into his face—“ methinks it
had been your part to have sent me word, that



42 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

I might also have been of that journey. It hed
been but reason that I had the honour as well
as you. Selfish man that you are, you are ever
ready to win worship from me and put me to dis-
honour!”

At this moment the last remaining cruse-light
flickered, burned blue, flickered again, and then
went out. The hall was now in darkness, saving
only for the feeble light of the fire, and the moon-
beams that slanted in through the mullioned
windows and shone here and there upon some
burnished helmet or corselet upon the walls.

As Roderic of Gigha ceased speaking, Erland
the Old coughed thrice and stroked his silvery
beard. Sweyn the Silent echoed the fatal sign,
and Roderic drew back, resting his right hand
upon the mantel.

“ Had I tarried till I had sent for you, Roderic,”
said Earl Hamish, “I must first have wasted
much precious time in suing with King Alex-
ander for his pardon for my brother who has
betrayed him!”

“You lie! base slanderer! you lie!” cried Ro-
deric in jealous fury, snatching the knife from
off the shelf. And then, springing forward and
raising his right hand above his head, he plunged
the blade deep, deep into his brother's heart.
The good Earl Hamish staggered and fell.

“Treachery!” he groaned. “Adela! Adela!”



A TERRIBLE DISCOVERY. 43

and with the name of his loved wife upon his lips,
he died there upon the stone of his own hearth.

Roderic and his two companions approached
the dead man, gazed upon him, and then at each
other with satisfaction in their dark looks. But
there was fear, too, in Roderic’s face, for he was
craven of heart. He drew back into the shadow,
where neither moonbeam nor firelight could fall
upon him and reveal him.

And all the while the henchman’s song of
triumph reached their ears from the halls below.

CHAPTER V.
A TERRIBLE DISCOVERY.

ENRIC tarried not long in search of the
ghostly figure that had appeared before

him so mysteriously in the dark forest of Barone.
Whence that figure had come and whither it
had gone he could not tell. Nor did he exercise
his mind in fruitless questionings concerning her.
Leaving the rock behind him, he set off at a
brisk pace through the shadows of the trees,
more timid than ever, and came out upon the
high. ground that is behind Rothesay Bay.
Down by the water's brink, outlined against the
moonlit waves, stood the dark towers of Rothesay



44. THE THIRSTY SWORD.

Castle. A light shone dimly in his mother’s
chamber window; but the great banqueting-hall
wherein his father was wont to entertain his
guests was dark, and Kenric thought this passing
strange. Where were the strangers of whom
he had heard? If they were not in the banquet-’ ~
ing-hall, then they must surely have already left
the island.

Hastening down the hillside, he hied him to
the castle, and as he neared the little postern in
the western walls, a burst of boisterous song
reached his ears from the guard-room. Taking
up a stone from the ground he was about to
knock three loud knocks, when the door was
opened from within, and a tall man with a
thick plaid over his broad shoulders slipped out,
almost overthrowing Kenric as he ran against
him.

“Duncan!” exclaimed Kenric, perceiving his
father’s seneschal, “whither go you at this late
hour of night?”

“Ah, master Kenric, and that is yourself, eh?
And you are here, and not at the abbey of St.
Blane’s? Well, sir, it’s a bonnie night, you see,
and I even thought I would take a quiet saunter
along the side of Loch Fad.”

“Then,” said Kenric, “I warn you, go not
near to the forest of Barone, Duncan; for I have
but now come through, and therein I saw a sight



A TERRIBLE DISCOVERY. 45

that would raise your hair on end. It was, as I
believe, none other than the werewolf that I saw.
First there was an old gray wolf with a white
patch on its breast, and then, even as I looked,
that wolf was spirited into the form of a fair lady,
and I was like to sink into the ground with fear.”

‘?Tis the first time that I have heard of a son
of the house of Rothesay knowing fear,” said
Duncan, smiling and showing his great yellow
teeth in the moonlight. “’Twas but the maid
Aasta of Kilmory that you saw.”

“ Aasta? Then it is true that the maid has
been bewitched? It is true that she has that
power of turning herself at will into the form of
a wolf?”

“Men say so,” answered Duncan. “ But me-
thinks ’tis no more true than that other thing
they say of her—that though she looks but a
girl of eighteen, she is yet full fivescore winters
old. ’Tis idle talk, Kenric. But where saw you
this sight? Was it not by the Rock of Solitude,
in the heart of the forest?”

“’Twas even there. But in an instant she
disappeared, and I saw her no more.”

“Tf she be not there now,” said Duncan, heav-
ing a great sigh out of his deep chest, “ then will
I return into the castle; for now do I mind me
that mine eyes are wanting sleep after the weary
day that I have had among the hills, running



46 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

high and low as though I were but a dumb
hound made only to scent out game for those
who know less of hunting than I do of building
a ship. That lazy old gray-beard, the lord of
Jura, may bring his own gillies with him the next
time he comes to the hunting in Bute. Never
again shall he get me to fetch and carry for him!”

“ The lord of Jura?” said Kenric. “It is then
true that there are strangers in the castle.”

“And is it not for that same cause that you
have come home?” asked Duncan. “ Methought
you knew that they were here—three gallant
kings out of the west they are, and one of them
is your own uncle, Earl Roderic of Gigha, whom,
when he was but a bairn as high as my girdle,
I taught to bend the bow and wield the broad-
sword. They are but now in the feasting-hall
with my lord your father; for Sir Oscar and
young Allan have gone home to Kilmory, and
my lady and Alpin have gone to their chambers.”

“Have you then left my father alone with
these three strange men?” asked Kenric as they
entered the postern.

“ My lord’s own brother, Earl Roderic, is with
him,” said Duncan, looking at Kenric in surprise.
“You would not surely have me mount guard
over my lord’s own guests! By the rood, that
were strange hospitality!”

“Where are their dirks and swords?”



A TERRIBLE DISCOVERY. 3 47

“Under my own keeping in the armoury,
where ’tis right they should be; for men of peace,
as these most surely are, encumber not them-
selves with the instruments of war.”

“’Tis well,” returned Kenric, much relieved.
“Old Elspeth Blackfell was but playing me with
her groundless forewarnings of danger. Well,
get me some meat and a bowl of milk, Duncan,
while I go up and see this uncle of mine. He
has seen much of the world, and methinks his
discourse must be full of instruction for a home-
keeping youth.”

So Duncan went into the guard-room, where
two score of noisy retainers were making merry
over their cups, and Kenric went upstairs to the
great hall.

Up the steep stone steps he climbed, making
little noise with his deerskin buskins. Hearing
footsteps at the head of the stairs, he glanced
along the north corridor, whose lancet windows
looked out upon the quiet sea. Suddenly in the
midst of the moonbeams that streamed inthrough
the western window, lighting the corridor with
a clear silvery light, he saw three men steal out
of the banqueting-hall. The last of the three
moaned grievously as they passed beyond into
another apartment.

“Oh, Hamish, Hamish my brother!” he
moaned, and his voice was as the wailing of the



48 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

wind, “what is this evil thing that I have
done!”

Kenric drew back into the shadow of the
stairway, and not seeing his father with the three
guests, he began again to fear some ill.

“What!” croaked the old man with the silvery
beard, “and is this your resolution? Is this
your courage? I fear me, Roderic, you are but
a weak craven thus to deplore the fulfilment of
our most righteous mission!”

Then the door of the smaller hall closed be-
hind the three earls, and Kenric was left alone.
He still heard the rumour of their voices as he
walked with quick steps along the moonlit cor-
ridor, and he paused to listen at the door.

“And now that we have done so completely
with the fox,’ said a voice, “what say you,
comrades, to our making equal despatch with
the vixen and her cub? ’Twere easy doing,
could we but discover in what corner we might
entrap them.”

Kenric did not understand the purport of
these words. He did not guess that the “fox”
meant his own father, and the “vixen and her
cub” his mother and Alpin. But he listened

yet again.
“Wait, wait, my lord of Jura,” said another
voice. “’Twere better we tarried until all the

watch-dogs are *sound asleep. {ill me yon



A TERRIBLE DISCOVERY. 49

drinking-horn, Sweyn, for my hand trembles,
and my mind is strangely cloudy.”

Silence followed this speech, and Kenric crept
along the corridor until he came to the entrance
of the great hall. He drew aside the arras hang-
ings and peered into the deserted room. All
was silent as the grave. The crackling embers
of the fire gave but a sorry light, with only a fitful
glimmer that rose now and again from some
half-consumed pine log. But with the feeble
moonbeams, that shone through the thin films
of skin that in those days—except in the churches
—did service for glass, there was still light
enough in that vast room to show what terrible
deed had been enacted upon the hearth-stone.

Kenric had taken but a few strides into the
hall when his eyes rested upon the form of his
murdered father. He started back aghast at
the horrible sight.

“ Oh, my father, my father!” he cried, flinging
himself down upon the blood-stained floor.
“Father? father? It is I, Kenric—your son.
Tell me, I beseech you, tell me, what foul villain
has done this thing?”

Then he took hold of the earl’s cold right
hand and chafed it tenderly, as he still tried to
arouse him. But there was no response. He
knelt down closer and bent his head to his

father’s bare throat, and, putting out his ONES
(746)



50 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

he felt with its sensitive touch if there was sign
of breathing, or if the pulses were beating in the
veins. Ashe rested his hand on the dead earl’s
chest he touched the haft of the weapon that
had worked this cruel deed. He knew the knife
and guessed how all had happened. He grasped
the handle in his fingers and tried to withdraw
the long blade; but the blood gushed out from
the terrible wound, and the lad grew faint at the
sight.

“ Dead! dead!” he moaned, rising to his feet,
and then from the halls below came the shouts
of the retainers as they pledged “wes hel” to
the lord of Bute.

Kenric hastened out of the hall and crept down
the stairs to summon the guard and station them
in the corridor, that none of the three traitorous
guests might escape.

He met Duncan the seneschal at the foot of
the stairs carrying the food that he had ordered,
and by the light of a lamp in the lower passage
Duncan saw the lad’s pale and terrified face.

“God assoil me!” cried Duncan, “what has
happened?”

“A terrible thing, Duncan. My dear father
has been brutally slain under his own roof-
tree.”

“Slain! My lord, the Earl Hamish slain?
Nay, boy, it cannot be!”



A TERRIBLE DISCOVERY. 51

“Alas, ’tis true! One of those miscreant
traitors who came hither to-day has plunged a
knife into my father’s heart. Take back the
food. I will neither eat nor sleep again until I
have discovered the villain who has done this
foul crime. Turn out the guard this instant.
Station them without the door of the room
wherein those three wicked men are now carous-
ing. And now to call my brother Alpin.”

Kenric went softly to his brother’s room,
which was next to the chamber of the Lady
Adela, and he knocked gently at the door.
Alpin was sound asleep upon his couch, for his
day’s hunting had wearied his limbs. Kenric
went within and awoke him.

In the darkness Alpin did not see his brother’s
pallid face, and he turned over with many
complaints at being so roughly disturbed.

“Nay, Alpin, ’tis for no light cause that I
disturb you,” urged Kenric. And hearing his
husky, trembling voice, Alpin roused himself
with sudden terror.

‘What brings you back to the castle?” he cried;
“and wherefore do you call me at this late hour?”

“Tt is that our father has been entertaining
enemies unawares,’ said Kenric. “ Entering
the hall but a few moments ago I found him
lying dead upon the hearth with a cruel knife in
his heart,”



52 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

Alpin gave a piercing cry of sudden grief and
sprang up from his bed.

“No, no, it cannot be!” he exclaimed, re-
covering himself as he threw on some clothing.
“You have made some strange mistake. These
friends could not have harmed our father. They
were not armed. And what could our uncle
Roderic gain by such treachery?”

Kenric drew his brother out into one of the
dark passages, not observing that their mother’s
chamber door had opened and that the Lady
Adela, roused from her slumber by Alpin’s cry
of grief, had taken the alarm and was preparing
to follow.

“ Alas, he has but too much to gain,” said
Kenric. “Had he been left to carry out his
base plot to the end, you and I, Alpin, must
surely have fallen as our father has fallen—
victims to Earl Roderic’s ambition to make
himself lord over Bute.”

“Tf this be so,” returned Alpin, raising his
voice in wrath, “then with my own hands will
I take a deadly vengeance. I swear it now,
Kenric—by our holy faith I swear that it
Roderic of Gigha has indeed slain our father,
then Roderic shall die by my hand!”

“Will such vengeance give back the life
that has been taken?” asked Kenric solemnly.
« Will vengeance restore to our dear mother the



A TERRIBLE DISCOVERY. 53

happiness that she now has lost? Methinks it
had been wiser in you, Alpin, to have stayed
by our father’s side instead of slinking off to
your bed and leaving him thus exposed to dan-
ger. Come, let us arm ourselves and confront
these evil men, that we may learn which one of
them has dealt this fatal blow.”

“With what weapon, say you, was my father
slain?” asked Alpin, as, being now in the
armoury, they proceeded to don their coats of
chain-mail.

“With the great knife wherewith he was
wont to carve the venison and meat,” said Ken-
ric, taking down a sword.

“Ah!” cried Alpin with swift recollection,
“now do I perceive the reason wherefore Earl
Roderic took that same knife from off the board
and placed it so cunningly above the. hearth.
Oh, villain that he is! He designed even then
to do as he has done. Now,” he added, snatch-
ing up a great two-handed sword, “I am ready.
Let me but meet him—let me but face him for
a moment, and I will slay him like a dog.”

“Think well ere you strike the blow you
contemplate,” said Kenric as they ascended a
side stairway that led to the upper floors of the
castle. “Remember that you are now the rightful
lord over Bute, and that you will have power to
inflict due punishment upon this man without



54 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

taking a personal vengeance that would surely
lead to an endless blood-feud.”

“Tush! You are but a timid boy, Kenric.
What priestly precepts has the old Abbot
Thurstan been cramming you with? Would
you pardon the man who has slain our own
father?”

“Pardon him?” exclaimed Kenric. “No,
never will I do that. If you slay him not,
Alpin, then, by the holy rood, I myself will do so.
But it shall be in fair fight that I will overcome
him, and by no mean subterfuge.”

The two lads were now at the entrance of the
larger hall, wherein the good Earl Hamish lay
dead. Alpin went within, and there, bending
over his father’s body, he was overwhelmed by
his grief. He staggered to a seat and sat down
with his head in his hands, weeping piteously.

Kenric heard loud voices in the corridor, and
grasping his sword he hastened to where the
guards were stationed. Duncan Graham, of the
long arm, was holding parley with the three
earls within the smaller hall. His broad frame
filled up the half-open doorway, so that the
presence of the armed guard was not yet known
to Roderic and his two companions.

“More wine it may be you can have,” said
Duncan; “but as to bringing you your swords,
that I cannot do without orders from my master.”



A TERRIBLE DISCOVERY. 55

“Tam now your master!” said the gruff voice
of Roderic of Gigha; “and again I command
you to bring us our swords and dirks.”

“Vou are no master of mine, Earl Roderic,”
said Duncan; “and now for your insolence shall
you have neither wine nor weapons;” and with
that he slammed to the door.

“Insolent varlet!” growled Roderic within
the room.

“Nay, calm yourself, good Roderic,” said the
voice of Erland the Old; “we had better have
tarried till daylight. It may be that they have
already discovered what you have done. Truly
you were an arrant simpleton to leave the
weapon in your brother's breast. ’Twould have
served our further purpose well.”

Kenric heard these last words, and though
they were spoken in the Danish, yet full well
did he understand that the further purpose of
Earl Roderic was indeed the slaying of the
Lady Adela and Alpin.

Assured that the three miscreants were
unarmed, he drew Duncan aside and whispered
his commands, which were that four of the
guards should follow him into the room and
make prisoners of the three island kings.
Thereupon Duncan went back to the door and
forced it open, and Kenric, with buckler on arm
-and sword in hand, marched in, and stand-



56 THE THIRSTY SWORD, ©

ing firmly upright faced the three men de-
fiantly.

“Which man of you is Earl Rodericof Gigha?”
said he.

CHAPTER VI.

ALPIN’S VOW OF VENGEANCE.

RLAND THE OLD, with an empty
drinking-horn in his bony hand, sat by the
hearth looking vacantly into the dead embers
of the fire. Sweyn the Silent stood beside him
with his thumbs stuck in his leathern girdle;
while Roderic of Gigha sat upon the table facing
the door and swinging his legs to and fro. The
light of a hanging cruse-lamp shone upon his long
red hair and beard. His strong bare arms were
folded, one within the other, across his broad
chest, and the back of his right hand was splashed
with blood that had been partly wiped off upon
his under jerkin.

“Which man of you is Earl Rodericof Gigha?”
repeated Kenric.

The three looked one to the other with evil
smiles. Roderic drank off what remained in his
wine-cup.

“Tam he,” he said coolly as he again folded



ALPIN’S VOW OF VENGEANCE. 57

his arms. “And who, then, are you who de-
mand to know?”

“Then if you be he,” said Kenric, “you are
the vilest man that ever breathed within these
walls. Oh, Roderic MacAlpin, unworthy son
of a noble and good prince, you have brought
the guilt of blood upon your father’s name!
You have slain your own brother, our dear lord
and master; you have shed his life’s blood within
his own hall. Deceitful traitor that you are, you
came to this peaceful island in the semblance of
a friend. But, by all that I hold sacred, you
shall not leave it again ere you have been duly
judged for your foul crime.”

A burst of mocking laughter from Roderic
greeted this speech.

“And now,” added Kenric, turning to the
guard, “take me this man as prisoner to the
deepest dungeon. For though he were King
Hakon himself he should not longer remain as
a guest in the castle whose shelter he has
abused.”

“Let one of those varlets but touch me with
his hand,” said Roderic, “and I will break his
back across my knee. And you, who are you,
my young knave, that dares to threaten his
betters? By St. Olaf, but you are passing bold
to speak of prisoning me in the walls wherein I
was born. Away with you to your couch; this



58 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

is no hour for bairns to be awake.” Then
turning to the lord of Colonsay he said:

“Slip you out behind the young whelp, Sweyn,
and bring me the knife you wot of. This is
surely the stripling of whom we heard. He
barks passing well; let us see if he can bite. A
few ells of cold steel will speedily settle him, I
warrant me.”

Earl Sweyn stepped towards the door, but
one of the men of Rothesay bounded forward
and caught him in his strong arms, struggled
with him for a moment, and then flung him
heavily to the floor.

Roderic, seeing this and waxing wrathful,
sprang lightly from his seat, and ere Kenric
could well understand his intention he had
caught hold of the youth and gripped him by
his sword hand. He wreathed his other strong
arm round the lad’s lithe body. Long he
wrestled with him, but at last he drew him down
by main force with his back across his thigh and
his right hand set hard at his throat. With his
left hand he again gripped Kenric’s sword hand
and tried to wrest the weapon from his grasp.
But Kenric’s wrist was of mighty strength and
he held with a grip of iron to the handle of his
sword. Then Roderic dragged the lad’s hand
forward and got it between his teeth, that by
biting it he might force him to loosen his hold



ALPIN’S VOW OF VENGEANCE. 59

of the weapon. And now Kenric must surely
have been overcome had not Duncan of the
long arm at that moment come behind Earl
Roderic and rushed upon him and caught him
up in his arms. With all the force of his giant
strength the Highlander lifted the man high in
the air and shook him fiercely. Kenric, freeing
himself, drew back to the door, and he saw
Duncan fling Earl Roderic upon the table and
grip him by the throat.

“Spare him!” cried Kenric as the seneschal
drew his dirk.

Then Duncan, thrusting his knife in his garter,
turned Roderic over with his face downward,
and holding him there with his bare knee on
his back, he took off his great plaid and twisting
it ropewise he bound the earl’s arms tightly
together, so that he could no longer move them.

The earl of Colonsay had already been
pinioned in like manner. But Erland the Old,
when he saw Kenric stand free and unharmed,
fearing to be ill-treated, rushed out into the
corridor. There he was met by Alpin, who,
with drawn sword, was about to kill him. His
sword was raised in the act of smiting him when,
from the banqueting-hall beyond, there came a
loud and plaintive cry that echoed throughout
the castle like the cry of a wounded eagle.
Alpin lowered his weapon and, leaving old Erland



60 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

to be arrested by the guards, he sped towards
the hall. Kenric, hearing that scream, followed
after him.

In the hall they found their mother. A crowd
of the men and women of the castle were there
with her, holding torches and lighted cruse-
lamps over the body of the dead lord of Bute.
The Lady Adela was wringing her hands in
frantic grief.

“Who is the villain that hath done this
wicked thing?” she cried as Alpin and Kenric
entered.

“ Roderic, earl of Gigha,” answered Kenric.

“Ah, unhappy hour that ever brought him
within these walls! Where is he now?”

“He is made prisoner with his two cem-
panions,” said Kenric.

“Prisoner—not slain! You have not slain
him? Oh, my sons, where is your spirit? Why
have you let him live thus long? And you,
Alpin, wherefore did you suffer your father to
be left alone with these men?”

“Alas, my mother, was it possible I could
foresee this crime?” said Alpin. “Even my
poor father could not have seen treachery
through the mask of his brother's friendship.”

“There has been some quarrel,” said Dove-
nald the bard. ‘“ Heard you aught of a dispute
between them, young man?”





ENRIC,

NGLE kK

TO STRA

S$

RODERIC TRIE



ALPIN’S VOW OF VENGEANCE. 61

“Methinks there is little need to seek for a
cause of quarrel,” said Kenric. “Roderic of
Gigha is even now meditating how he can make
himself the lord over Bute. No farther shall
he gO, for he cannot now escape the penalty
that is his due.”

“ And what penalty is that?” asked the Lady
Adela.

Kenric turned to Dovenald for reply, know-
ing well that Dovenald was better learned than
any other man in the breast-laws of that land.

“My lady,” said Dovenald, “he must be
judged and punished for his crime as the wise
men of Bute shall direct. Justice will be done.
Fear not for that.” |

“Justice?” cried she. “I know well what
justice means with your wise men. It is not
the worthless fine of a few score of cattle that
would repay me for the loss of my dear husband.
No, no. A life for a life. Earl Roderic has
cruelly slain our good and noble lord, and now
I demand a speedy vengeance.” She flung her-
self on her knees before her son Alpin. “Oh,
my sweet son,” she cried, clasping his two
hands, “I charge you upon my blessing, and
upon the high nobility you inherit, to be rée-
venged upon this traitor for his crime;” and
thereupon she took up the blood-stained weapon
and forced it into her son’s hand,



62 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

Alpin started back and grew pale.

“Fair mother,” said he, “what may this
mean?”

“ Take this fatal knife,” said she, “and before
the blood is dry upon its blade drive it into the
murderer’s black heart.”

Then Alpin, holding the knife, raised his
mother in his arms.

“Dear mother,” said he, “you have given me
a great charge, and here I promise you I shall
be avenged upon Earl Roderic ere long, and
that do I promise to God and to you.”

“Nay, mother,” appealed Kenric, stepping
forward. “In mercy I beg you, charge not my
brother with so terrible a mission. Withdraw
it, I beseech you, for you know not what you
do in thus exposing Alpin to both danger and
dishonour. For if he take vengeance by stealth,
then is his treachery as evil as that of the
murderer whom he would punish. If he
challenge this man to mortal combat, then most
surely he will be slain, for Roderic, as I have
seen, is most powerful of arm, and it is his
heart’s desire that he should slay my brother,
whose death he has already planned. If you
would indeed have this man die, then I entreat
you let me, and not Alpin, fulfil your behest.
Alpin is now our rightful king, and his life is of
more value than mine.”



THE ARROW OF SUMMONS. 63

Now while Kenric was thus speaking his
mother remained in Alpin’s arms, with her head
upon his shoulder. And when Alpin drew
away his arm that she might answer Kenric
face to face, she turned not round, but sank
down at Alpin’s feet, and it was seen that she
was in a swoon.

So Alpin carried her away in his strong arms
to her chamber, where the women of the castle
tended her. But for three long days and nights
she lay on her couch in a strange sickness that
none could understand. For those three days
she was unconscious, speaking never a word.

CHAPTER VII.
THE ARROW OF SUMMONS.

OW the three island kings fared in the dark
dungeons of the castle of Rothesay on

that fatal night need not be told. Earl Roderic
of Gigha had doubtless in his sea-rovings slept
on many a less easy couch. But it may be that
in those dark hours of solitude his mind was
more disturbed than were his hardy limbs. He
had come to Bute full of a guilty design, by the
fulfilment of which he had hoped to at last gain
possession of the rich dominions that he had



64 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

coveted for twenty years. His own inheritance
of the small island of Gigha was not enough to
satisfy his vaulting ambition, and the growing
power of the King ‘of Norway, who was year
by year extending his territories in the west
of Scotland, offered a further inducement to
Roderic, who believed that by slaying his brother
Hamish, and taking his place, he might bring
the island of Bute under the protection of the
Norwegian crown.

His design was clumsily planned, for though
subtle as a fox, Roderic was yet an ignorant
man, even for those uncultured times, and he
had failed to take into account the two sons of
Earl Hamish, both of whom stood between him
and the coveted earldom, and who now appeared
to him as an obstacle not easy to overcome.

But for the unexpected appearance of Kenric,
however, even this obstacle in his path might
have been cleared; for he had planned that in
the darkness and quiet of the night he would
steal into the sleeping chamber of Alpin and so
deal with him that he would never again waken
to claim his dead father’s lands. Roderic had
learned from the Lady Adela that her younger
son, Kenric, was but a boy of sixteen, living
with the learned abbot of St. Blane’s, and to the
wicked earl of Gigha it seemed that Kenric
might be disposed of by very simple means.



THE ARROW OF SUMMONS, 65

But now, even after having slain his brother,
he had failed in his object. Instead of being
king in Bute, he was a prisoner in the deepest
dungeon of Rothesay Castle.

The moor-fowl had scarcely shaken the dew
from off their wings ere the two sons of the
ead Earl Hamish were climbing the heathery
heights behind Rothesay. With them went the
aged Dovenald, bearing in his arms a young
goat, white as the driven snow. When they
were upon the topmost knoll they stood a while.
Dovenald laid down the bleating kid, whose
little feet were tethered one to the other, and he
bade the two youths go about and gather some
dry twigs of heather and gorse that a fire might
be made.

A soft breeze from over the moorland played
with the silvery locks of the old man’s bare head.
He turned his face to the east and looked across
the gray waters of the Clyde, where above the
hills of Cunningham, the dawn was breaking
into day. Southward then he gazed and watched
the giant mountains of Arran that were half.
shrouded in rosy mists. Very soon the golden
light of the rising sun kissed here and there the
jagged peaks of Goatfell, and Dovenald bent
his head and murmured a prayer, calling upon
God to shed His light into the hearts of men

and to guide them in the solemn work they were
(746) E



66 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

called upon to fulfil that day. Then he turned
to Alpin.

“ Now kindle me the fire,” he said. “Here are
flint and steel. And, Kenric, give me the arrow.”

He took the arrow in his hand and waited
till the fire was well alight. With the arrow’s
point he stirred the flaming twigs, and the two
youths looked on.

“And now take your dirk, Alpin,” said he,
“and slay me the kid. Give as little pain as
may be, for it is not well that the innocent thing
should suffer.” .

Kenric held the animal while his brother
drove his sharp dirk into its white and throbbing
throat. The kid turned its soft blue eyes upon
him and gave a plaintive bleat. Its warm
breath rose visible in the morning air and then
died away.

‘Tis done!” said Kenric, and Dovenald
brought the burning arrow and extinguished
it in the kid’s blood. With the innocent blood
he smeared the arrow’s shaft.

“Fly now as speedily as your feet can carry
you to the castle of Kilmory,” said the old man
to Alpin, giving him the arrow, “and you will
give this burnt arrow into the hands of Sir
Oscar Redmain. No need have you to tell him
the meaning thereof. It is a summons ordained
by ancient custom, and well known to all the



THE ARROW OF SUMMONS. 07

wise men of Bute. Sir Oscar will despatch it
to our good father the abbot of St. Blane’s. The
abbot will in like manner send it to Ronald
Gray of Scoulag. So, in turn, will it pass round
to each of the twelve wise ruthmen, calling them
one and all to hasten to the Seat of Law on the
great plain beside Ascog mere, that they may
there in solemn assize pronounce judgment
upon the traitor who hath slain our king,
Haste! haste! my son. Why do you tarry?”

“ Have I not sworn an oath on my mother’s
blessing that I will have this man Roderic’s life?
Why, then, should this assize be assembled ?”

“Go, do my bidding, rash boy,” said Dove-
nald sternly. “Seek not to oppose the customs
of your ancestors, and let not your thirst for
vengeance now blind you to the folly of violence.
Go, I command you; and believe me the earl
of Gigha shall not escape just retribution.”

Alpin, then, taking the arrow in his right
hand, ran off at a brisk pace down the hill.
Kenric took up the dead kid and walked at
Dovenald’s side towards Rothesay.

“Rash, rash that he is,” murmured the old
man. “Much do I fear that he will make but
a sorry king. He is over hasty, and his judg-
ment is ofttimes wrong. He will not rule as did
his father. The Lady Adela hath spoiled him
with her caresses.”



68 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

“You are over hard upon my brother,” said
Kenric. “There lives not a man in the Western
Isles better fitted than Alpin for the great office
of kingship, He is just, and noble, and trusty.
No man in all Bute can say that he ever broke
a promise or told an untruth. Think you that
because he is hasty with his dirk he is therefore
a thoughtless loon, who knows not when a gentle
word can do more service than a blow? When
did he ever draw dirk or sword without just
cause? You do not know him as I do, Dove-
nald, or you would not breathe a word in his
dispraise. And if my gentle mother loves him
above all else next to my father, whom she has
now lost, who shall say that Alpin is not deserv-
ing of her great favour?”

The old retainer walked on in silence. Pre-
sently he turned to Kenric and said:

“What has your brother done with the
weapon wherewith my lord was slain? He
tried in the dead of night to gain entrance to
the traitor Roderic that he might use that fatal
knife even as my lady so weakly charged him
to do. Where is it, I say?”

“T know not,” said Kenric. “ But methinks
‘tis a pity he did not drive it into the villain’s
heart.”

“My son! my son! let me not hear you utter
such evil thoughts again. It ill becomes a pupil



AN ERIACH-FINE, 69

of our holy abbot to speak thus. And yester-
night you were disposed to leave the guilty earl
to whatever punishment the wise men should
appoint.”

“Reflection has changed me, Dovenald; and
were Roderic before me at this moment I would
willingly lay him dead at my feet. Should
Alpin fail to slay him, then will I fulfl my
revenge. In fair fight or by stealth Roderic
shall surely die.”

“Alas, that I should ever hear such words
from one so young!” murmured Dovenald.
And the old man continued his complaints until
they had entered the castle gates.

CHAPTER VIII.
AN ERIACH-FINE.

NDER the clear sky of high noon the people

of Bute had assembled on the great plain

of Laws, at the margin of Loch Ascog. They
had come from all parts of the island, for the
word had travelled round with the swiftness of
a bird’s flight that their good king, Earl Hamish,
had been cruelly slain by his own brother, and
all were eager not only to see the man who had



7O THE THIRSTY SWORD.

done this treacherous deed, but also to hear
judgment passed upon him for his crime.

At the foot of the great standing-stone Sir
Oscar Redmain, as steward or prefect of Bute,
took his seat as judge. Noble and comely he
looked, holding his great glittering sword, point
upward, waiting for the prisoner and his accuser.
At his right stood Godfrey Thurstan, the good
abbot of St. Blane’s, with his cowl drawn over
his reverend head to shield him from the warm
sun. At his left Dovenald, most learned in the
laws of the land, ready to explain and discuss
the ancient legal customs; and round them in
a circle were the others of the twelve ruthmen.
The witnesses or compurgators stood in an
outer ring within a fencing of cords running
from stake to stake. Without the verge of the
sacred circle of justice were gathered a great
crowd of islanders—herdsmen and husbandmen,
tribesmen, fishermen, and thralls—who had left
their labours on hill and in vale, or on the sea,
and come hither crying out loud for speedy
vengeance.

Duncan Graham the seneschal and his guards
of the castle had already gone amongst these
onlookers to see that no man carried weapons,
for it was held in strict custom that none should
bear arms or make disturbance at such a time
on pain of life and limb.



AN ERIACH-FINE. 71

These hardy islanders, as they stood in silence,
were a rugged set of men, with sunburnt faces
and bushy beards. Many of them were clothed
in garments of sheep-skin, others of a better
condition wore a plaid or mantle of frieze. They
had buskins made of raw hide, and a knitted
bonnet, though many of them wore no covering
for their heads but their own shaggy hair tied
back with a leathern strap.

The assize being sworn and admitted the
abbot stepped forward and called upon the God
of the Christians to punish the peace-breaker.
Then the crowd opened and young Alpin came
in, stalwart, handsome, noble, and bowed before
the judge.

He wore a mantle of tartan, clasped at the
shoulder by a silver buckle. His legs were
swathed in fine cloth and cross-gartered below
the bare knees, and his feet were encased in
brogues with silver clasps. His long hair was
well combed, and it hung about his broad
shoulders in dark brown locks. A deep hum of
praise rose in greeting from many throats as he
stood in the light of the noonday sun.

“ Hail to Earl Alpin, king of Bute!” cried one.

“Long life to the king!” cried another; and
the cries were taken up by the whole assembly,
dying away in echoes among the far-off hills.

Then Alpin raised his hand and asked that



72 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

the chain of silence should be shaken; and when
one of the guards had shaken the rattling chains
and all were listening with bated breath he took
up and made his plea, demanding prompt justice
on the slayer of his father.

“And whom do you charge with this foul
crime?” asked Sir Oscar Redmain, though indeed
none needed to be told.

“JT charge Roderic MacAlpin, king of Giga?
said Alpin, and at that there was a great yell of
execration.

“Down with the traitor! Death to him!”
was the cry as the crowd opened. And Alpin
turning round saw Duncan Graham—taller by
a head than the tallest man there present—
leading in the criminal, followed by his two
companions of Colonsay and Jura.

In a moment Alpin sprang forward at his
enemy. He raised his right hand and all saw
that he held the blood-stained knife.

“Die, slayer of the just!” he cried, bringing
down the weapon upon Roderic’s breast.

But Roderic of Gigha laughed a mocking
laugh, and catching Alpin by the wrist he threw
him backward. Duncan Graham broke his fall
and tore the weapon from his grasp.

“Oh, foolish lad!” he murmured, “to attempt
such a thing within the very fences of the court!”

“ Alpin of Bute,” said the judge gravely as he



AN ERIACH-FINE. 73

rose from his seat, “you have done that which
no other man in this land might do without the
severest punishment. You are here to plead
the cause of justice, and not to insult those whom
you have summoned to this place to do justice
for you. Bear yourself discreetly, or resign
your cause into the hands of those who can
control their wrath.”

Alpin scowled as he again took his place
before the judge, and then when silence had
been restored he proceeded to state the whole
case concerning the killing of his father.

By his side stood Kenric, who helped him
when he faltered in his narrative. The two
brothers might almost have been mistaken for
master and serf, so much did their appearance
differ. Kenric’s face was unwashed and streaked
with the traces of tears. His brown hair, lighter
than Alpin’s, was rough and tangled, and now,
as always, he wore no covering on his head.
His coarse buckskin coat looked mean beside
the richer apparel of his brother, and his buskins
were ill-tied and his kilt was dusty and tattered.
The elder brother was taller and more lithe of
body; but Kenric’s bare arms and legs were
thick and strong, and despite his coarse clothing
he bore himself no less nobly upright than did
Alpin.

“ Roderic, son of Alpin, what have you to say



74. THE THIRSTY SWORD.

in defence for this grave crime whereof you are
accused?” asked Sir Oscar Redmain when Alpin
had told his tale.

The two lads stepped back and Roderic took
their place. His long golden hair as the sun-
light fell upon it shone scarcely less bright than
the well-wrought dragon that twined its scaled
form upon his burnished helm of brass. He
looked towards his judge with bold defiance in
his blue eyes.

“What the boy says is true,’ said he. “I
slew my brother Hamish. I slew him upon his
own hearth-stone. But it was in fair fight that
I did it; and I call my two friends, the lords of
Jura and Colonsay, to bear me out in the truth
of what I say.”

There was a loud howl of rage from the crowd
as he spoke these false words, and no one tried
to stifle those outbursts of popular feeling.

‘Tis a lie you tell!” cried Kenric furiously as
he pushed his brother aside and confronted Earl
Roderic. “You say it was in fair fight you
smote my father his death-blow. Oh, perjured
villain! Where, then, was my father’s weapon?
Had he been armed with a knife such as the
one you used, methinks you would not now be
here to utter your false words. Your own arms
were left in the armoury hall, where ’twas right
they should be; and you took up the knife from



AN ERIACH-FINE. 75

the board, knowing full well what you meant to
do with it. Oh, Roderic MacAlpin, may your
tongue shrivel in your throat ere you utter such
base and wicked lies again! You came to this
island, the land of your fathers, with the evil
purpose of climbing over our dead bodies to the
kingship that you covet—”

Roderic bit his lips with rage and doubled his
great fists as he stepped forward to smite young
Kenric to the ground. Kenric drew back.

“T know it,” continued Kenric with full and
sonorous voice that might have been heard at
the further side of Ascog mere. “1 know your
purpose, Roderic of Gigha. Think you that
there are none of us that can understand the
Norse tongue in which you spake to your two
base comrades? J know that tongue. I heard
your craven moans of anguish when you came
out from that darkened hall wherein my father
lay dead. I heard you tell of how you meant
to slay the vixen and her cubs. And who are
they? My mother and Alpin and me! My
mother, whom you flattered with soft speeches
—my mother, in whose presence you were not
worthy to breathe, and whose noble heart you
have now broken by your murderous treachery.
And you would have slain her as you slew our
father. I thank the great God who stayed your
hand from fulfilling such devil’s work to the



76 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

end. May He punish you as you deserve to
be punished for the evil you have done!”

A deep silence followed upon this speech, and
then a thousand lusty voices broke out in a pro-
longed groan of imprecation. But Roderic of
Gigha only turned to Erland the Old and smiled.

Kenric looked to the crowd that stood behind
the judge’s seat, and there he saw Ailsa Red-
main standing with her brother Allan; and
Ailsa’s eyes glistened with approval of what
Kenric had just spoken, and he took new cour-
age.

“Men of Bute,’ said Sir Oscar Redmain,
turning to the ruthmen, “ye have heard what
has passed. It is now for you to pronounce
judgment upon the accused man. What say
you?”

“That Earl Roderic is guilty of the crime,”
said Ronald Gray, their spokesman, “and that
he shall pay the highest penalty that our laws
can impose.”

“Then,” said Alpin, “I claim that Roderic of
Gigha shall die the death.”

But at that the wise men shook their heads.

“In the time of my father, the good king
Alpin,” said Roderic with a voice of triumph, “it
was ordained, as all of you must surely know,
that no man should die for the slaying of his
enemy unless he were caught red-handed and



AN ERIACH-FINE. 77

with the weapon in his hand; but that for taking
the life of a man in hot blood he should be
assoiled or cleansed on payment of the eriach-
fine, which is nine-score of kine, to the kin of
his victim. And I ask Dovenald Dornoch if
this be not so?”

At this Alpin held speech with Dovenald the
lawman, and his face grew sullen in disappoint-
ment.

“ Alas!” said Alpin to Sir Oscar, “what Earl
Roderic hath said is indeed true; for it seems that
my grandsire, king Alpin, and also my father,
who is dead, did in their mercy so ordain that
crimes of violence should be dealt with in such
manner that the traitor might have time in which
to repent of his ill-deeds and commend himself
to God. But for the slaying of a king the fine
is not nine-score, but six times nine-score of kine,
or three thousand golden oras. And if that fine
be not paid within a year and a day, then shall
the traitor die the death. And now, oh men of
Bute, since that I cannot see this man die—as,
would that I might!—TI call upon him for the
due payment of my eriach-fine. And moreover,
oh judge, you and the wise men of Bute whom
I see here present are guarantees for the full
payment, and you shall see that it be paid within
a year and a day.”

Now this was far from being what Roderic



78 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

wished, for well he knew that no man in all the
Western Isles would spare him if he failed to
pay the price of his liberty. But also he knew
that neither in cattle nor in other movable wealth
was it in his power to pay the value of a thou-
sand head of cattle in so short a time. So he
up and told this to Sir Oscar Redmain.

“T cannot pay the fine,” he said; “for not in all
my lands and ships do I possess such wealth nor
know I any man who would be my broch, or bail.”

“ Then,” said Sir Oscar, “if that be so, I now
pronounce you an outlaw in the Western Isles
and in Scotland, and our sovereign lord, King
Alexander, shall ratify that sentence upon you
forthwith. You shall be an outlaw for the term
of three years and three days. For those three
days you shall live within the sanctuary of
Dunagoil and under the protection of the good
abbot of St. Blane’s. On the third day, or
before, you shall take ship and depart hence
whithersoever the holy abbot shall direct you.”

Then turned Sir Oscar to the crowd.

“Men of Bute,” said he, “I charge you all
that if within three years to come any of you
shall see this man Roderfc MacAlpin within the
isle of Bute, or within his forfeited lands of
Gigha and Cara, or in any other land in the
dominions of the King of Scots, you shall put
him to the sword and slay him,”



AN ERIACH-FINE. 79

There was a loud cry of assent; and Roderic,
wrathful at his position, felt at his side for his
absent sword.

Here again were his plans defeated. The
sentence passed upon him required that during
his three days of grace in the sanctuary of the
church lands no man should molest him or hold
speech with him. How, then, could he hope to
compass the death of the two lads, Alpin and
Kenric, who stood in the way of his ambition?
Turning his eyes with fierce malice upon the
two brothers he stepped boldly to the front.

“ There is yet another way for me,” he cried
aloud. “Think you that I, a king, am to be
hunted about by a set of wolves like these?
No, no. Now, on this spot and before you all, do
I claim wager of battle, for that is my due. Let
any man of you stand forth and meet me in fair
fight, and I will fight him to the death.”

Then Duncan Graham, the seneschal, came
forward in his towering height, and said he:

“J will fight you, treacherous earl, for you
deserve to die!”

“Vou!” exclaimed Roderic, awed at the man’s
giant height. “Not so. An earl may hold such
combat with none but his equals. I will not cross
swords with a low-born churl like you. Show
me a man whose blood is worthier of my steel.”

“Coward!” cried Duncan; “you are afraid to



80 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

cross arms with me. I would slay you at the
first passage.”

“There is but one among you who is of my
own rank,” said Roderic, ‘and there he stands;”
and he pointed to Alpin.

“And I am ready,” said Alpin. “I will en-
gage with you to the death, And God defend
the right!”

CHAPTER IX.
THE ORDEAL BY BATTLE.

HILE Duncan Graham and one of the

guards went back to the castle of Rothesay
to bring the swords of Alpin and Roderic, Sir
Oscar Redmain pronounced the assize at an
end; and such as wished not to witness the
deadly combat—the abbot Godfrey and some
few women—went away.

Then Roderic stood apart with Erland the
Old and Sweyn the Silent, bidding them not
wait for their weapons, but to slip away out of
the crowd and get them to their ship, and so
away to their island homes.

“Our project has so far failed,” said he; “but
be assured that I shall yet gain the lordship
over Bute. They have made me an outlaw, and
U fear me that Redmain will most surely com-



THE ORDEAL BY BATTLE. 81

municate this whole matter to the King of Scots.
Well, be it so; we shall see what Alexander can
do. Methinks it will not be long that he will
hold his own against us. When these three
years of my outlawry are over you shall see
such things as will surprise you. Farewell, good
Erland, and you, dear Sweyn! Hold you both
fast by King Hakon. That is our highest game;
and so we serve him well there is no fear but
we will reap a good harvest of power.”

“God grant it may be so!” said Erland; “ for
if his Majesty of Norway fail in conquering
Scotland, then are we all lost men. Farewell,
then!”

When Sir Oscar Redmain had left the seat
of justice his daughter Ailsa crept within the
circle of the court, and there she found Kenric.

“As I came hither,” she said, “I saw Elspeth
Blackfell; and she bade me ask you, Kenric, if
what she spake had aught of sooth in it?”

“ Ah,” said Kenric, “right truly did she tell
what was to befall. For even as it was with
your nest of ouzels, Ailsa, so has it been with
the castle of Rothesay. This man Roderic, is
he not even as the stoat that harried the nest?”

“Even so,” said Ailsa. “But the stoat also
slew the fledgling as well as the parent bird.
Elspeth, when she heard that the good Earl

Hamish had been so cruelly slain, looked grave,
(746) ¥



82 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

and, said she, ‘Hasten, Ailsa, to the sons of
Rothesay and bid them still be wary of this
man. Not until he is dead will all danger from
him be past.’ Those were her words, Kenric;
and lest there should be truth in them I have
come to you as speedily as I might. Alpin is
about to engage in mortal combat. Bid him be
wary, bid him arm himself well; for I heard one
of the shepherds say that Roderic is clothed in
a shirt of iron network, and that if it had not
been so the knife wherewith Alpin smote him
would have slain him where he stood.”

“ Ailsa,” said Kenric, “much do | fear me
that there is ample need of this warning. Help
me, I beseech you. Run to the castle and bid
Duncan not fail to bring my brother’s coat of
mail.”

Then Ailsa disappeared and like a lapwing
ran across the moorland.

Not long had she been gone when Duncan
appeared, bearing two great claymores. But he
had not brought the coat of mail; and Kenric
seeing this drew his brother aside and bade him
tarry until Ailsa should return, that he might
protect his body with the chain shirt, and so be
equal with his foe.

The men of Bute then went in a vast crowd
to the lower march beside Ascog mere, for it
was against the ancient custom that any blood



THE ORDEAL BY BATTLE. 83

should be shed within the sacred circle reserved
for the administration of the laws. And they
formed a great ring upon the level ground, in
the midst of which stood Earl Roderic alone,
with his great two-handed sword in his hand,
and the sun glancing upon his helm as he held
his head proudly aloft.

And the cry went about:

“ Alpin! where is Alpin? Is he then afraid: »”

But soon a gap was made in the circle and
Alpin strode boldly forward with a light step.

Kenric, who had sent Ailsa away, telling her
that it was no sight for a girl, stood beside Sir
Oscar and Allan Redmain, and he told how
Ailsa had brought Alpin’s armour.

“Then am I much relieved,” said Sir Oscar.
‘Nevertheless there is no man I know, unless
it be Sir Piers de Currie, who can handle a
sword as your brother can; and methinks Earl
Roderic will not easily bear up against him.
Look at them both. Alpin is fresh and lithe as
a young stag. Ah, Roderic, methinks your hour
has surely come!”

Alpin dressed the end of his plaid about his
left arm and pulled out his sword. He stood at
five paces from his foe. Then both swerved
about with their heads bent forward. Still keep-
ing apart, eyeing one the other, round and round
they traversed. Then Alpin got his back to the



84. THE THIRSTY SWORD.

sunlight, drew himself up, and flung back his
sword. With a fierce cry they rushed together
and their swords clashed with mighty strokes.
Then they both reeled backward two strides to
recover. Tracing and traversing again they
leapt at each other as noble men who had often
been well proved in combat, and neither would
stint until they both lacked wind, and they stood
a while panting and blowing, each grasping his
Weapon ready to begin again. When they had
rested they went to battle once more, tracing
and foining and hurtling together, so that none
who beheld them could know which was like to
win the battle. Their clothing was so far hewn
that the chains of their coats of mail could be
seen. Alpin hada cut across his knee, Roderic’s
arm was bleeding. Roderic was a wily man of
war, and his wily fighting taught Alpin to be
wise and to guard well his bare head, for it was
ever at his head that Roderic aimed. Often he
smote such strokes as made Alpin stagger and
kneel; but in a moment the youth leapt lightly
to his feet and rushed at his foe, until Roderic’s
arms and face were red with blood.

The crowd about them hailed Alpin’s dexter-
ous fighting with lusty cries of approval, and
none doubted that he would soon make an end
of his boastful antagonist. But neither had yet
gained the upper hand.



THE ORDEAT BY BATTLE. 85

So for a full half-hour they fought, until Alpin
at length sorely wounded Roderic on the
shoulder, At that Roderic was wroth out of
measure, and he rushed upon Alpin, doubling
his mighty strokes. Their swords clashed and.
clanged and flashed in bright circles through
the air. But at last, by fortune, Roderic smote
Alpin’s sword out of his hand, and if Alpin had
stooped to pick it up surely he would have been
slain. He stood still a moment and beheld his
weapon with a sorrowful heart. There was
a deep groan of anguish from the crowd, and
Kenric, seeing the peril in which his brother
was placed, would have rushed forward to
Alpin’s help had not Duncan Graham held him
back, fearing that he too might find himself in
Earl Roderic’s power. Then Allan Redmain
was about to run.in to Alpin’s aid, but his father
caught his arm and bade him stand back.

“ How now?” cried Roderic. ‘“ Now have I
got you at an advantage as you had me yester-
night. But it shall never be said that Roderic
of Gigha would meanly slay any man who was
weaponless. And therefore take up your sword,
Earl Alpin, and let us make an end of this battle.”

Roderic then drew back that Alpin might
without hindrance take up his sword. Then
into Roderic’s eyes there came a look of fixed
fury, and in that look Alpin read his doom.



86 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

Again they took their ground, and this time
neither seemed so eager to spring at the other.
But at last young Alpin leapt wildly at his foe,
with his sword upraised in the grip of his two
hands. Down came his weapon with a mighty
swing, and all thought surely that blow would
be Roderic’s end. But Roderic sprang lightly
aside, so that the young man’s aim was spent
upon the soft ground. Roderic’s sword flashed
in a circle above his crested helm. There was
a dull crunching sound, and then a deep groan.

Kenric promptly rushed to his brother's side
and tried to raise him from the ground. But
the sword of Roderic of Gigha had done its
work. Earl Alpin was dead.

Then the men of Bute, seeing what had be-
fallen their young king, raised a wailing cry that
rent the sunny air, and they closed in their
ranks around their fallen chief.

Earl Roderic looked but for a moment at
Alpin, and then swinging his blood-stained sword
from right to left he passed through the crowd
of men. For the islanders, having just left the
court of the mooting, were none of them armed.
So when Roderic made his way into their midst
they fell back beyond the range of his swinging
blade. They saw that he was making his way
towards the shores of the lake, which was but
a few paces from where the battle had been





HER.”

ET:

ED TOG

“WITH A FIERCE CRY THEY RUSH



THE ORDEAL BY BATTLE. 87

fought. Many of them picked up great stones
and flung them after him and struck him on the
back.

“ Down with the base traitor!” they cried.

But he little heeded either their missiles or
their menacing cries. On he sped until his feet
were ankle-deep in the mere. Then he turned
round for a moment and saw young Kenric,
armed with his brother’s sword, with Sir Oscar
Redmain, Allan, Duncan Graham, and many
others pursuing him.

He sent up a hollow mocking laugh as he
lightly sheathed his sword. Then he waded
farther into the loch and threw himself into the
deeper waters, so that only his glancing helm
could be seen above the surface. As the
antlered stag, pursued by men and_ hounds,
swims swiftly over the mountain tarn to the
safety of crag and fell, so swam Earl Roderic
before the fury of the men of Bute. And none
dared follow him, for it is said that that loch is
deeper than the hills are high.

So many ran round to the farther shores that
they might there meet him and assail him with
showers of stones. In the brief time that had
passed between two settings of the sun this man,
this traitorous sea-rover, had taken the lives of
two kings—the well-beloved Hamish, who had
ruled over that little nation for a score of peaceful



88 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

and prosperous years, and Alpin, his son and
successor, who had fallen ere yet he had known
the power of his kingship. And forgetting that
by the sentence of outlawry which their judge
had passed but two hours before, Roderic had
been allowed three days of grace, during which
it was a crime to molest him, they were driven
to the extremity of wild rage; they thirsted for
his blood. It was not now enough that he
should quit their island with his treachery un-
avenged; they wanted to strike him down that
the world might no longer harbour a villain
whose evil deeds were blacker and more terrible
than any the oldest man in Bute had ever
known.

But ere they had turned either point of the
lake Roderic had already gained the firm ground
on the western shore, and now he shook the
water from him and sat down on a large stone
to rest his limbs and to dress his bleeding
wounds.

Soon he heard the rumour of men’s angry
cries coming nearer and nearer, like the yelping
of a pack of wolves. Rising and looking about
him he saw many men running towards him
from north and from south through the dingle
of Lochly; and now most surely he might think
that he was entrapped, for he was upon the strip
of land that divides Loch Ascog from Loch Fad.



THE ORDEAL BY BATTLE. 89

His deep voice rang out across the moorland
like the bellowing call of the stag that challenges
his rival in the glens. Bracing his long sword
about his back he crossed westward over the
rising ground until he came in view of the quiet’
waters of Loch Fad, where a flock of wild swans,
startled at his approach, flew over towards the
forest of Barone.

The two companies of islanders closed in upon
him, believing doubtless that he would be speedily
overcome. ‘The one band was led by Sir Oscar
Redmain and his son, the other by Duncan
Graham and Kenric.

Roderic ran onward to the water's edge,
and ere the first stone that was thrown could
reach him he had plunged into Loch Fad, and
as he swam outward stones and clods of turf fell
in showers about his head. A stone thrown
by Kenric struck him on the helmet. He sank
deep down, and all believed that the water
would be his death. But, like the diver-bird of
his native seas, he went under but to appear
again many yards away beyond the reach of any
weapon but the arrow, and of arrows there were
none in all that company.

Now Loch Fad, which is the largest of the
lakes of Bute, is full two miles long and but
four furlongs wide, and it was useless for any to
think of meeting the fugitive earl on the farther



9o THE THIRSTY SWORD.

shore. So at the bidding of Sir Oscar Redmain
the men all gave up the chase and turned back
to where the dead body of Lord Alpin lay prone
upon the turf, and thence they bore him to the
castle of Rothesay.

CHAPTER X.
AASTA’S CURSE.

ODERIC of Gigha, for all that he had been
absent from Bute for a score of years, had
not forgotten the old landmarks that. had been
familiar to him in boyhood. After swimming
across Loch Fad he found himself among the
tall pine-trees of the forest of Barone. Wet
and weary after his escape from his pursuers,
and smarting sorely of his many wounds, he
passed through the forest glades and emerged
at the point where, on the evening before,
Kenric had entered.
As he skirted the lands of Kilmory he saw
a herd of shaggy long-horned cattle browsing
there, with many sheep and goats. He looked
about for their shepherd that he might ask him
concerning the earls of Jura and Colonsay. He
began to regret that he had so lightly dismissed
his friends, who might better have waited to
carry him in their ship to Gigha. Presently he



AASTA’S CURSE. gI

heard voices from behind a great rock. A
young sheep-dog appeared, but when it saw
him it turned tail and slunk away as if it were
afraid of him. Then from behind the rock
came young Lulach the herd-boy, and with him
a most beautiful girl, Lulach stood for a mo-
ment looking at the strange man.

“Ah, ’tis he! ’Tis he whom we were but
now speaking of!” he cried, and dropping the
brown bread-cake that he had been eating he
ran away down the hill in terror.

But the girl stood still, with her hand resting
on the rock.

Now this girl was the same strange maiden
who had appeared so mysteriously before Kenric
on his night journey through the forest. Tall
she was and very fair—tall and graceful as a
young larch-tree, and fair as the drifted snow
whose surface reflects the red morning sun.
Her eyes were blue as the starry sky, and her
long hair fell upon her white skin like a dark
stream of blood. Men named this wondrous
maiden Aasta the Fair.

Earl Roderic started back at sight of her
great beauty as she stood before him in her
gray and ragged garments, for she was but a
‘poor thrall who worked upon the lands of Kil-
mory, minding the goats upon the hills or mend-
ing the fishermen’s nets down on the shore.



92 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

“ Fair damsel,” said he, “tell me, I pray you,
if you have seen pass by an aged man and his
companion towards the bay of Scalpsie?”

“’Tis but an hour ago that they passed hence,”
said Aasta. “Cursed be the occasion that
brought both them and you into this isle!” Thea
she pointed across the blue moor of the sea
where, under the shadow of the high coast of
Arran, a vessel appeared as a mere speck upon
the dark water. “Yonder sails their ship into
the current of Kilbrannan Sound.”

« Alas!” said Roderic, “and I am too late.”

“ Alas, indeed!” said Aasta. “ Methinks they
had better have tarried to take away with them
the false traitor they have left upon our shores.
What manner of foul work detained you that
you went not hence with your evil comrades?
But the blood that I now see flowing from your
wounds tells its own tale. You have slain Earl
Alpin in the fight. Woe be upon you!”

“Even so,” said Roderic, “for hard though
he pressed me with his vigorous blows, yet my
good sword was true to the last, and I clove his
young head in twain.”

“Woe to you, woe to you, Roderic of Gigha!”
cried Aasta,shrinking from hisapproach. “Curses
be upon you for the evil work that you have
done. May you never again know peace upon
this earth. May those you love—if any such



AASTA’S CURSE. 93

there be—may they be torn from you and slain
before your eyes. Worse than brute that you
are, meaner than the meanest worm that creeps,
curse you, curse you!”

Then as Aasta drew yet farther back her
hand was caught by another hand which drew
her gently aside, and from behind the rock ap-
peared the gaunt figure of old Elspeth Black-
fell. And Lulach the herd-boy, having over-

, come his fears, crept nearer and stood apart.
. Roderic paused at seeing the old crone, and
his face grew pale.

“ Unworthy son of Bute!” said Elspeth, point-
ing her thin finger at the island king, “ you have
heard this good maiden’s curse. Even so do all
the dwellers in Bute curse you at this hour.
But the great God who sees into all hearts, and
in whose hands alone must rest our vengeance—
He will surely repay you for the sorrows that
your wickedness has caused. Go, Roderic
MacAlpin. Go, ere it is too late, and before the
high altar of St. Blane’s pray to Him for the
mercy and forgiveness that you sorely need.”

Roderic bowed his head and nervously clasped
and unclasped his hands.

“Go while there is yet time and confess your
sins,’ continued Elspeth. “And if-there is
aught of penitence in your black heart then seek
from our good and holy abbot the means where-



94. THE THIRSTY SWORD.

by you may fulfil your penance during the days
that remain to you on earth.”

It seemed that a great change had come over
him as he walked away, for his step was halting
and his head was bowed. He walked along by
the cliffs that are at the verge of the sea; south-
ward past Scalpsie and Lubas and Barr, then
inland to the little chapel of St. Blane’s. And
ever at his heels hobbled Elspeth Blackfell.

When Earl Roderic had entered the holy
place to open his heart in confession to the
abbot, Elspeth waited on the headland above
the bay of Dunagoil. In that bay there was
a ship, and the shipmen were unloading her of
a cargo of English salt and other commodities
of the far south. Presently the old woman went
downward to the beach, and there held speech
with the shipmaster, who, as it chanced, being
a man of Wales, could make shift to understand
the Gaelic tongue, and from him she learned
that the ship was to leave at the ebb tide for
England.

Now Elspeth had seen young Ailsa Redmain
as the girl was passing to her father’s castle, and
Ailsa had told her how the wicked lord of
Gigha had been made an outlaw. So Elspeth
questioned the shipmaster, asking him if he
would be free to carry this man away from Bute.

“My good dame,” said the mariner, “that



THE SWORD OF SOMERLED. 95

will I most gladly do, for your holy bishop or
abbot, or whatever he be, hath already paid me
the sum of four golden pieces in agreeing that
I shall do this thing—though for the matter of
that, this man is a king in his own land, and me-
thinks the honour were ample payment without
the gold; so if the winds permit, and we meet
no rascally pirates by the way, I make no doubt
that ere the next new moon we shall be snug
and safe against the walls of our good city of
Chester.”

So ere the curtain of night had fallen over the
Arran hills the outlawed earl of Gigha had left
behind him the little isle of Bute, and it was
thereafter told how he had in secret confessed
his manifold sins to the abbot of St. Blane’s, and
how in deep contrition he had solemnly sworn
at the altar to make forthwith the pilgrimage of
penance to the Holy Land, there to spend the
three years of his exile in the service of the
Cross.

CHAPTER XI

THE SWORD OF SOMERLED.

OW when Kenric, following sadly behind
the body of his brother, came within sight
of the castle of Rothesay his heart sank heavy



96 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

with the woe that was upon him. He thought
of how his mother had pressed upon Alpin the
charge of vengeance, and of how that charge had
ended. He would far rather have given up his
own life than face his mother and tell her the
terrible tale of how the man whom Alpin had
sworn to slay had himself slain Alpin. And he
was sorrowful beyond measure.

They bore the body of their dead young king
into the great hall, and laid him on a bier beside
the body of his father, the good Earl Hamish,
and the curtains were drawn and many candles
and torches were lighted and set round the two
biers, while two of the friars of St. Blane’s knelt
there in solemn prayer.

Then Kenric went to the door of his mother’s
chamber and knocked, and old Janet, a retainer
of many years, came out to him.

« Alas!” said she, “my lady your mother is
passing ill, and she hath spoken never a word
these many hours. We have sent forth a
messenger to Elspeth Blackfell, who is skilled
beyond all in Bute for her craft in simples. But
Elspeth was abroad, and the messenger returned
without her.” ;

“Then will I go myself and find her,” said
Kenric. So he went down into the courtyard
and called his favourite hound Fingall, that he
might have companionship in his quest. But



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AASTA GRIPPED HER SWORD AND LEAPT UPON RODERIC.
THE THIRSTY SWORD:

A STORY OF

THE NORSE INVASION OF SCOTLAND,
(1262-1263),

BY

ROBERT LEIGHTON,

Author of “The Pilots of Pomona;” &c.

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY ALFRED PEARSE,
AND 4 MAP OF THE WESTERN ISLES OF SCOTLAND.



LONDON:
BLACKIE & SON, Lrmtrep, 49 OLD BAILEY, E.C
GLASGOW EDINBURGH AND DUBLIN.

1893.
CHAP,
. THE WITCH OF BUTE,

Il.

ITI.

Iv.

VI.

VII.

VIII.

IX.

X.

XI.

XIII.

XIV.

XV.

XVI.

XVIL.

XVIII.

XIX.

XX.

XXL

CONTENTS.

THE DARK FOREST OF BARONE, .



How Ear. RODERIC SPILLED THE SALT,
THE DARKENING HALL, .

A TERRIBLE DISCOVERY, .

ALFIN's Vow OF VENGEANCE, .

THE ARROW OF SUMMONS, .

AN ERIACH-FINE,

THE ORDEAL BY BATTLE,

AASTA’S CURSE,

. THE SworRD OF SOMERLED,

How KENRIC WAS MADE KING, .

THe ‘WuHitr LADY" OF THE MOUNTAIN,
IN SOLEMN, ASSIZE,

THE DOMINION OF THE WESTERN ISLEs,
KEnRIC BEFORE KING ALEXANDER,

How ALLAN REDMAIN KEPT WATCH, .
THE EXPEDITION TO THE ISLAND KINGs,
STORMING AN ISLAND STRONGHOLD,
ALONE WITH DEATH, .

How KENRIC MADE HIMSELF STRONG,

Page

18

24

35

go
95

10g

. 135
. 146

» 156

167

. 180

« 195

. 205
vi
CHAP.
XXII.
XXIII.
XXIV.

XXV.

XXVI.

XXVIL.

XXVIII.

XXIX.

XXX,

XXXI.

CONTENTS.
THE TWO SPIES, .
THE INVASION OF BUTE, .
THE SIEGE OF ROTHESAY CASTLE,
THE GREAT NoRSE INVASION, .
A TRAITOR KNAVE,
THE BATTLE OF LARGS,
AAStTA’S SECRET MISSION,
ELSPETH BLACKFELL,
THE BLACK FROST ON ASCOG MERE,

THE Last DREAD FIGHT,

+ 270
. 286
» 308
+ 319
+ 331

» 343
ILLUSTRATIONS.

Page
‘*AASTA GRIPPED HER SWORD AND LEAPT UPON RODERIC,” frout. 301

RODERIC TRIES TO STRANGLE KENRIC, . ...... .. 60
‘WITH A FIERCE CRY THEY RUSHED TOGETHER,” ... . . 87
AASTA REVEALS ‘'THE THIRSTY SWORD,” . . . . 4. . . 106
TEARING DOWN THE NORWEGIAN FLAG, . . . 2... . . 188
‘‘AASTA PLUNGED HER DAGGER INTO HIS HEART,” . . . . . 227
AASTA BRINGS NEWS OF THE INVASION TO THE KING, . . . 268
‘YOU LIE, VILE WITCH, YOU LIE!” CRIED RODERIC, . . . . 323
Map. of the:Isle of Bute, 2 ree oe Oe

Map of the Western Isles (southern section), . . . . . facing 178




























THE THIRSTY SWORD

CHAPTER IT.
THE WITCH OF BUTE.

JH, if only Kenric were here!”

It was on the evening of a bright
day in June, in the year 1262, and a
girl, clasping her hands in distress,
walked restlessly to and fro on the bank of a
stream that tinkled merrily along its gravelly
bed towards the sea. She, in her loose gown
of gray woollen homespun and girdle of crimson
silk, was then the only figure to be seen for
miles around. Far to the south were the blue
mountains of Arran, and westward across the
Sound were the brown hills of Kintyre, with the
rosy light of the setting sun behind them. The
girl, shading her eyes from the strong light,
looked over the moorland towards the castle of
Kilmory.

“If Kenric were but here!” she said again.
And as she turned to run to the stream, all


10 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

suddenly she was startled by the sound of a
heavy thud upon the heather at her feet. She
looked round and saw that a large capercailzie
had fallen there. The bird was dead, and there
was an arrow in its breast.

At the same moment there was a lusty shout
of joy from among the trees and a stalwart youth
came bounding towards her. In his right hand
he bore a long-bow, and at his belt were hung a
dead hare and a brace of wild moor-fowl, whose
dripping blood trickled down his sturdy legs.

« Ailsa!” he cried in surprise, seeing the girl
as he came to secure the bird he had just killed.
“Vou here so late, and alone?”

Ailsa’s fair cheeks grew rosy as the evening
sky, for the youth was he whom she had wished
for, Kenric, the son of the brave Earl Hamish
of Bute, and now that he was so near her she
felt suddenly timid.

He was a lad of sixteen years, not tall, but
very thickset and stout built, broad shouldered,
deep chested, and strong limbed. His long
silky locks were a rich nut-brown, and _ his
sparkling eyes were dark and gentle as those
of a fallow-deer. The sun and the bracing
sea-air had made ruddy his fair skin, even to
his firm, round throat and his thick arms, that
were left bare by his rough coat of untanned
buckskin. ;
THE WITCH OF BUTE II

“You have been weeping, Ailsa,” said he,
looking into her tearful eyes.

“Sir,” said she, speaking, as he did, in the
guttural Gaelic tongue, “come, I beseech you,
to the help of two poor ouzels, whose nest is far
in under the roots of yonder birch-tree. If you
help not quickly, their little fledglings will be
eaten up by a thieving stoat that has but a few
moments ago entered their nest.”

“You make needless dole, Ailsa, over a pair
of worthless birds and their chicks,” said he
scornfully. “Why, I have this day slain a full
half-score of birds! Ay, and right willingly
would I have doubled their number.”

“The birds you have slain are for men’s food,”
said she, “but the birds I speak of sing as
sweetly as the mavis, and I have watched them
tenderly for many sunny days past. Rescue
them for me, good Kenric, for I love them right
well, and I would not for the world that any ill
should befall them.”

Then Kenric went with her to the stream’s
bank, and as he stood there his keen eyes saw
something move across the short grass at the
water’s edge. Promptly he put an arrow to his
bow-string and took deft aim. The shaft sped
quickly to its mark, plunged into the body of a
stoat, and pinned the animal to the soft turf.

“ There, Ailsa,” said he, “the murderous thief
12 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

is justly punished!” and springing down the
bank he put his heel upon the writhing animal
and lightly drew out his arrow from its body,
while Ailsa picked up the bleeding fledgling
that the stoat had been carrying away in its
teeth. She took the maimed little bird to the
birch-tree that Kenric might restore it to its
nest. But at the mouth of the nest lay the dead
body of one of the parent birds, and hovering
near it was the mother ouzel, uttering sharp
cries of distress at the murder of her mate and
little one.

“ And now,” said Kenric, “I must hie me back
to St. Blane’s, for our good Abbot Godfrey bade
me be with him ere nightfall. Where is your
brother Allan? Say, was he of those who went
with my father and Alpin to the hunting in
Glen More this forenoon?”

But Ailsa was again weeping over the fate of
her water-ouzels and did not answer him.

Ailsa was some two years younger than him-
self. They had been companions from the time
of their infancy. Her father, Sir Oscar Red-
main, of Kilmory Castle, was the steward ot
Earl Hamish of Bute, and Ailsa was even as a
sister to the two lads of Rothesay Castle. With
Kenric, the younger of the earl’s sons, she had
been taught what little there was to be learned
in those rude times, under Godfrey Thurstan,
THE WITCH OF BUTE. 13

the Abbot of St. Blane’s, a wise and holy man
who, next to Earl Hamish himself, was held in
the highest honour of all men in Bute.

Now, just as Kenric, unable to soothe Ailsa,
was turning to leave her, a shadow passed
between him and the evening sunlight, and at
the head of the bank there walked an aged
woman, bearing upon her bent back a bundle of
faggots. Ailsa raised her blue eyes, and at
sight of the old woman shrank back and felt in
her dark hair for the sprig of feathery rowan
leaves that she wore there as a charm against
witchcraft.

“Give you good e’en, my lord of Bute,” said
the old woman, seeing Kenric and dropping her
bundle on the ground. At these strange words
Kenric’s cheeks grew crimson.

“Tam no lord, Elspeth Blackfell,” said he,
going nearer and trying to fathom her meaning
in her wrinkled and grimy face, “and I know
no reason for your calling me by that high
name.”

“ Not yet,” said the old crone, “not yet. But
by my sooth, the time will surely come, and
that full speedily, when all shall hail you lord of
Bute.”

“T seek no sooth from such as you,” said
Kenric frowning; “and you shall win naught
from me by your false flatteries,”
14 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

Just then he felt the hand of Ailsa drawing
him back as though to keep him from the
blighting touch of the old woman’s bony fingers.

“Go not so near to her!” whispered the girl,
making the sign of the cross. “Let her not
touch you with her evil hands, lest she put her
enchantments upon you.”

Old Elspeth smiled grimly, and showed the
one lonely tooth that was in the front of her
shrunken gums.

“ Heed not the child’s silly fears,” said she to
Kenric, “and tell me, for what cause has she
been weeping?”

“Tt was a stoat that harried an ouzel’s nest
and slew the birds,” replied Kenric.

‘“ Bairns weep at trifles,” said Elspeth; “ what
matters the death of a little bird? The stoat
must live by the food that the great God gives
it, and the birds must die when their time comes.
’Tis alike with all God’s creatures upon earth.
Even the castle of Rothesay is no more free at
this moment from its secret enemy than is the
smallest wild-fowl’s nest.”

“The castle of Rothesay?” repeated Kenric.
“ Set me none of your riddles, Elspeth, for they
are harder to read even than the abbot’s missals.
What is your meaning? My father has not an
enemy in all the isles. Who, then, would do
him an injury?”
THE WITCH OF BUTE. 15

“Speed you home to Rothesay and see with
your own eyes,” said Elspeth, taking up her
bundle of faggots again; “ Earl Hamish ‘of Bute
is in great danger, I say. Go to him now, I
charge you, and give him my warning against
the enemy who is within his gates.”

And at that she hobbled away down the
hillside towards the little wooden hut that was
her home. As she went the red sun sank
behind the dark hills of Kintyre. Kenric stood
in doubt.

“T marvel that you will dare to hold speech
with that evil hag,” said Ailsa. “’Tis our own
good fortune if she have not already cast her
eldritch spells upon us both.”

“Nay, Ailsa; fear her not. She is but a poor
harmless body,” said Kenric. ‘“ Only the witless
carls and cottar folk are so simple as to believe
that she has aught of evil in her words.”

“ Ah, but I well know that Elspeth is a witch,”
declared Ailsa. “Never do I see her but I
must shrink away and cross myself in dread of
her. Why do all the brave men of Bute fear
her more than they would fear a band of armed
Norsemen? She casts her spells upon our kine
so that they give no milk, and upon the fountains
so that the clear drinking water is turned rank
and brown. Allan told me but yesternight that
she rides over to Inch Marnock in a boat that
16 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

has neither sails nor oars, and that the ribs of
the boat are of dead men’s bones.”

Kenric smiled no more at Ailsa’s fears; for,
indeed, so great was the superstition of that
time, that deep in his heart he believed no less
strongly than did Ailsa that Elspeth was as-
suredly a witch.

“And what meant she by her warnings of an
enemy in your father’s castle?” added Ailsa.

“Little reck I that,” returned Kenric, “for
never lived man in all the Western Isles who
had so few enemies as my good father.”

“Right so,” said Ailsa. ‘“ But none the less,
Elspeth is a most wise soothsayer, and you are
unwise if you heed not her warning. And now
I mind me that on this very day, as I was
returning from matins, a great ship of twelve
banks of oars came in from the west through
Kilbrannan Sound, and it let anchor in Scalpsie
Bay. As I looked upon that ship three tall
warriors were brought ashore in a small boat,
and, landing, they walked along the shore towards
Rothesay.”

“Three tall warriors, say you?”

“Even so. Lulach the shepherd boy also
saw them, and said that they were surely three
of King Hakon’s men of the Northland. And
Lulach was much afraid of them, and he fled

from their sight lest by chance they should learn
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18 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

that he was a Dane, and seek to carry him off.
But now, Kenric, I must away, for the night is
coming on and you have far to go. Yonder is
Lulach driving home my father’s kine. Go to
him and he will tell you of these strange men.”

So Ailsa and Kenric bade each other good-
night, and Kenric sped lightly over the heather
to where the young shepherd was driving home
the long-horned cattle.

CHAPTER IL
THE DARK FOREST OF BARONE,

HEN Lulach heard a shrill whistle from
afar and saw Kenric, he tarried a while
that the cattle might begin to browse upon the
lush grass that grew on the marshes beside the
sea. Then he went forth to meet him, and
threw himself on his knees before him, for
Lulach was a thrall, and it was his custom thus
to pay homage to the sons of the brave lord of
Bute.

“Rise, Lulach, rise!” said Kenric, speaking
now in the Norse tongue that the lad might
better understand him. “And tell me, what
manner of men were the three strangers you saw
landing in the bay of Scalpsie this forenoon?”
THE DARK FOREST OF BARONE. 19

“They were men out of the North, my master.
I heard them speaking in my own tongue,” said
Lulach, throwing back his long red hair that
had fallen over his sun-tanned face.

“And were they men of peace?”

“T know not, my master; but much did I fear
them, for never knew I a Norseman yet who
was not cruel to me; and seeing them I hid
myself behind a rock.”

“Cowardly hind! You are but fit to drive
a herd of kine. Of what aspect were these
men?”

“ The one who led them was even as a king,”
said Lulach. “He was tall and strong, and his
footing was firm upon the heath. He wore a
helm crested with a golden dragon, and a great
sword at his side. I thought that surely it was
the Earl Hamish of Bute himself, for were it
not that the stranger’s hair was of the colour of
the fox’s coat, never saw I a man that more
resembled your father.”

“ And his followers, what of them?”

“One was an aged man with a silver beard.
The other might be his son. Ah, I wot they
are come for no good purpose, my master, for
they landed when the tide was low, and that
bodes ill for Bute.”

“ Heaven forfend!” said Kenric, growing un-
easy at the thought. “And now,” added he,
20 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

loosing the dead birds from his girdle, ‘take
me these grouse to the abbey, and tell the good
abbot that I come not to St. Blane’s this night,
but that I go home to the castle to see who these
strangers may be, and to learn their purpose.”

But as Lulach was taking the game into his
hands, he drew back and pointed with trembling
finger to the green path that led towards Rothe-
say.

“See!” he exclaimed, “there is ill-luck before
you! Turn back, my master, turn back!”

“Ah! a magpie, and alone!” cried Kenric,
seeing the bird in his path. “ That is ill-luck
indeed! Give me some salt from your wallet,
Lulach, for if this sign reads true then it were
unwise in me to go farther without some salt in
my pocket.”

« Alas!” said Lulach, “I have none. My
wallet is empty!”

“Then God be my protection!” said Kenric,
and with that he went on his way, feeling a
dread foreboding at his heart.

The light of day had faded from the sky as

-he passed by the black waters of Loch Dhu;
but there was a silvery glare above the jagged
peaks of the Arran fells, and he knew that the
moon was rising, and that he would soon have
her friendly light to guide him through the dark
pine forest of Barone,
THE DARK FOREST OF BARONE, 21

All was calm and still, but through the still-
ness the hollow sound of a waterfall among the
far-off mountains came to him like the moaning
cry of a dying man. At that sound he felt his
heart beating uneasily against his side, for that
same cry, which rises from all mountain streams
towards nightfall, was beforetime held to be of
ill-omen when heard from a distance, and Kenric
was in a likely mood to be impressed by such
a sign.

When he came to the borders of the forest he
was almost afraid to venture among the gloomy
shadows of the trees, Therein, as he believed,
dwelt many strange and mysterious elves, that
were wont to lead travellers astray to their
destruction. But he must pass through that
forest or else go round many miles across the
hills; so he braced his girdle tighter about him
and boldly plunged into the darkness. As he
went forth the plaintive cry of the curlew high
up above the tree-tops startled him more than
once, and the sudden movement of every wild
beast and bird that his own footsteps had
frightened filled him with new fears.

In the broad daylight neither man nor beast
could have had power to daunt him. He was,
when put to his mettle, one of the most
courageous and daring youths in the island,
and, saving only his elder brother Alpin, who
22 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

was the bravest swordsman of his own age in
all the land, there was none who might attempt
to draw arms against Kenric. And, in truth,
had it not been that he was sorely troubled in
Spirit concerning the strange words of Elspeth
Blackfell, and also that so many omens had
foretold disaster, it may be that even on that
same night he would have passed through the
dark avenues of the forest with neither doubt
nor tremor.

But in an age when the meaning of nature’s
work was little understood, when even religion
was not yet strong enough to conquer the
superstition which found evil in things which
were only mysteries, it was small wonder that
young Kenric of Bute should wish himself
safely at home in his father’s castle, or regret that
he had not gone back to the abbey of St. Blane.

Nevertheless it was not alone the thought of
trolls and elfins that disturbed him. At that
time the wild boar and the wolf were denizens
of the forest wherein he walked—animals which
would indeed be welcomed in the daylight by
a band of hunters with their spears and hounds,
but which might give some trouble to a youth
appearing alone in their midst on a dark night.

At one moment when he was deep within the
heart of the forest he thought he heard hurried
footsteps behind him. He felt for his dirk and
THE DARK FOREST OF BARONE. 23

turned round. The moon’s beams pierced the
trees and fell upon a glistening pool of water
where a wild cat was slaking its thirst. There
was naught else that might cause him alarm.

But in a little while he heard the same sound
again—this time in advance of him. He stood
still, In the shadow of a great bare rock he
saw two staring eyes that shone like gleaming
fires, now green, now red, and he knew that
they were the eyes of a wolf. There was a low
growl as of distant thunder. Then the moon’s
light shot through a rack of cloud, and he saw
the form of the wolf standing out clear and
black against the grey rock. He fixed an arrow
to his bow-string; but at the sound of the creak-
ing bow the wolf gave a sharp yelp and dis-
appeared into the darkness beyond.

Kenric, bolder now, unbent his bow and
stepped towards the rock that he might see
whither the wolf had fled. In an open glade
that was behind the rock he saw, instead of the
wolf, a strange tall figure standing in the moon-
light. It was the figure of a woman, wondrously
fair and beautiful. Her long hair, that fell over
her shoulders, was as the colour of blood, and
her white bare arm, that shone like marble in
the pale light, seemed to be pointing the way to
Rothesay Castle. In her other hand she held
a long bright-bladed sword.
24. THE THIRSTY SWORD.

Now whether this figure appearing so mysteri-
ously before him was indeed that of a woman
of human flesh, or, as he feared, the vision of some
ghostly dweller in the pine forest, Kenric could
not at that moment have told. Even as he
stepped farther into the glade a dark cloud again
obscured the moon and all was black night
around him, and no sound could he hear but the
beating of his own heart and the whispering of
the wind among the trees.

CHAPTER III.
HOW EARL RODERIC SPILLED THE SALT.

N that same June evening, in the year 1262,
whilst Kenric was at the stream-side with
Ailsa Redmain, the three strangers who had
landed earlier in the day on the shores of Bute
were feasting in the great banqueting-hall of the
castle of Rothesay. For although to the tir id
lad Lulach and to Ailsa they had appeared in
the guise of enemies, yet each of the three was
known to the Earl Hamish. Their leader
was, in truth, none other than his own brother,
the Earl Roderic of the Isle of Gigha. The
other two were Erland the Old of Jura, and
Sweyn the Silent of Colonsay.
HOW EARL RODERIC SPILLED THE SALT. 25

What their unexpected mission to the lord
of Bute might be had yet to be learnt. But
when, betimes, they came to the gate of Rothesay
Castle they found Earl Hamish and his steward,
Sir Oscar Redmain, on the point of setting out
on a hunting expedition into the wilds of Glen
More. And of the band of hunters were Kenric’s
elder brother Alpin and young Allan Redmain.

So when the strangers entered the castle and
had. broken bread and refreshed their deep
throats with wine, they left their swords and
dirks in the armoury and took bows and hunt-
ing-spears. Thus equipped, they set off with
Earl Hamish and his merry men and long-
limbed hounds. And they had great sport that
day, coming back at sunset with a wild boar
that Earl Roderic had slain, and three antlered
stags and other spoil.

In their absence Kenric’s mother, the Lady
Adela, had made prepare a feast for them all,
with much venison and roasted beef and stewed
black-cock, with cakes of bread, both white and
brown, and many measures of red wine and
well-spiced liquors. A silver drinking-bowl was
set down for each of the kingly guests, and a
goblet of beaten gold for the king of Bute.

The hall was lighted with many cruse-lamps
that hung suspended from the oaken joists, and,
lest the evening should be chill, there was a fire
26 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

of fragrant pine logs blazing on the open hearth.
Round the walls of the hall, that were panelled
with black oak boards, there were many glitter-
ing shields and corselets, with hunting-horns and
various trophies of the chase.

At the fireside there sat an aged minstrel,
whose duty it was to fill in the intervals of the
feast with the music of his harp, or, if need were,
to recite to the company the saga of King
Somerled and other great ancestors of the kings
of Bute.

Earl Hamish —a tall, courtly Highlander,
with sad eyes and a long brown beard—sat at
the head of the board, that with his own strong
hands he might carve the steaming venison.
At his right hand sat the earl of Jura, Erland
the Old, and at his left Earl Sweyn the Silent.
His beautiful wife, the Lady Adela—attired in
a rich gown inwoven with many devices of silk,
and spun by the Sudureyans—sat facing him at
the far end of the board. At her right hand sat
Earl Roderic of Gigha; and at her left Alpin,
her son.

So the feast began, with much merry dis-
course of how the men had fared that day at the
hunting in Glen More.

Now Erland and Sweyn, kinglings of Jura
and Colonsay, though owing yearly tribute to
their overlord, Alexander the Third of Scot-
HOW EARL RODERIC SPILLED THE SALT. 27

land, were both men of the North, and they
spoke with Earl Hamish in the Norse tongue.
Their discourse, which has no bearing upon the
story, was mainly of cattle and sheep, and of
the old breast-laws of the Western Isles. But
Roderic of Gigha spoke in the Gaelic, which
the Lady Adela, though an Englishwoman born,
could well understand.

“ Ah, but,” said he, addressing young Alpin,
who had been boasting of the manly sports that
might be enjoyed in his father’s dominions,
“you should one day come to Gigha, for there,
I do assure you, we have adventure such as you
never dream of in Bute.”

“J marvel, my lord, how that can be,” said
Allan Redmain scornfully, “for the kingdom of
which you boast is but a barren rock in the mid-
sea, and methinks your beasts of the chase are
but vermin rats and shrew-mice.”

“The sports of which I speak, young man,”
said Roderic, frowning and wiping his red beard
with his broad hand, “are not such bairns’ play
as you suppose. Our beasts of the chase are
burly men, and our hunting-ground is the wide
ocean. I and my gallant fellows carry our
adventures far into the north to Iceland and
Scandinavia, or southward even into the land of
the Angles, where there is sport in plenty for
those who would seek it.”
28 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

The Lady Adela looked up in shocked sur-
prise. “But,” said she, “you do not surely
count the Angles among your enemies, my lord?
The Scots are at peace these many years with
my country England.”

“T should be grieved to call any man my
enemy who is your friend, my fair Lady Adela,”
said Roderic gallantly. “But though the Scots
be indeed at peace with King Henry, yet the
brave Easterlings of Ireland do ofttimes find the
need of slaying a few of your proud countrymen;
and if I help them—well, where there is aught
to be gained what matters it who our victims
be, or what lands we invade? I am for letting
him take who has the power to conquer. Let
them keep their own who can. What say you,
Sir Oscar? Am I not right?”

“Tam a man of peace, Earl Roderic,” said
Sir Oscar Redmain gravely. “I have no
enemies but the enemies of my king and country.
And methinks, my lord, that a loyal subject of
the King of Scots is but a traitorous hound if
he stoop to take arms in favour of either Easter-
ling or Norseman, and against our good friends
of England. You, my lord, may perhaps pay
fealty to King Hakon of Norway, as well as to
his majesty Alexander of Scotland. It is not
all men who can make it so easy to serve two
masters.”
HOW EARL RODERIC SPILLED THE SALT. 29

“A traitorous hound, forsooth! You surely
mistake me, Sir Oscar,” cried Roderic, reddening
at the reproach. “TI said not that I paid truage
to any king but our own King of Scots, God bless
him! And though, indeed, King Alexander is
but a stripling, knowing little of kingcraft, yet,
even though he were a babe in arms, he and no
other is still my sovereign lord.” And at that
he raised his goblet to his lips and drank a deep
draught of wine. Then, lightly turning to the
lady of Rothesay, and helping her to cut up the
venison on her platter, that she might the more
easily take the small pieces in her dainty white
fingers, he said:

“ After the rough roving life that I have been
leading these many years, my lady, ’tis truly a
great joy to come back once more to the peace-
ful Isle of Bute. Much do I envy my good
brother Hamish, in that he hath so beauteous a
partner as yourself to sit before him at his board.
Truly he is a most fortunate man!”

Adela’s fair cheeks blushed rosy red at this
compliment, but she did not smile.

“Methinks, Lord Roderic,” said she, nervously
breaking the white bread-cake at her side, “that
with so small a distance between Bute and
Gigha, you might surely have come to visit
your brother long ere this present time. For
although Earl Hamish hath ofttimes spoken of
30 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

you, yet never until this day have I seen you;
and ’tis well-nigh a score of years that I have
lived in Bute.”

“ Alas!” said Roderic, looking uneasy, “ since
my poor father, Earl Alpin, died, I have had
little spirit to come back to these scenes. It
was in anger that my brother and I parted,
when, as you well know, the lordship over the
two islands was divided. . The larger dominion
of Bute fell to the share of Hamish. I, as the
younger son, was perforce content to take the
miserable portion that I now possess. Gigha is
but a small island, my lady.”

“Our happiness need not depend upon the
extent of our dominions, Lord Roderic,” said
Adela; “and J doubt not you are passing happy,
notwithstanding that you have but a younger
son’s inheritance.”

“Not so,” said Roderic, planting his heavy
elbows on the board; “for where can a man
find happiness when those who are dearest to
him have been torn away?”

“Then you have had sorrows?” questioned
the lady.

“When I went forth to take the kingship of
my island home,” said he, “my life was indeed
most bright and joyous; and on a time it befell
that I went north to Iceland, and there I met
one who (with submission I say it) was not less
HOW EARL RODERIC SPILLED THE SALT. 31

beautiful than yourself, my lady. She was the
most beauteous damsel that ever came out of
the Northland, and her name was Sigrid the
Fair. I married her and we were happy.”

Roderic again filled his drinking bowl and
looked across the table at Alpin’s handsome
brown face.

“We had two children,” he continued sadly.
“The girl would have been of the years of your
own son there, the boy was two summers
younger than she.”

“ Oh, do not tell me that they are dead!” cried
Adela.

“Alas! but that is so,” he sighed. “One sunny
day they went out hand in hand from our castle
to play, as was their wont, among the rocks and
caves that are at the south of our island. Never
since then have they returned, and some said
that the water-kelpie had taken them and carried
them away to his crystal home under the sea.
Others whispered that the kraken or some other
monster of the deep had devoured them. They
said these things, believing that Sigrid had no
heart for her children, and that she was unkind
to them. But many days thereafter I learned
that a strange ship had been seen bearing out-
ward between Gigha and Cara; and it was the
ship of Rapp the Icelander, the cruellest sea-
rover that ever sailed upon the western seas.
32 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

Then did I believe that neither kelpie nor
kraken had taken my bairns, but Rapp the
Rover.

“So I got ship and followed him. For three
long years | followed in his track—to the frozen
shores of Iceland, and into every vic and fiord
in Scandinavia. Southward then I sailed to
the blue seas of England—always behind him
yet never encountering him. But at last there
came a day of terrible tempest. The thunder-
god struck my ship and we were wrecked.
Every man that was on board my ship was
drowned saving only myself, for the white sea-
mew swims not more lightly on the waters than
I. So I was picked up by a passing vessel, and
it was the vessel of Rapp the Icelander. In-
stead of killing him I loved him, in that he had
saved my life. Then he told me, swearing by
St. Olaf, that never in all his time of sea-roving
had he touched at the little island of Gigha, and
that he knew naught soever of the dear children
I had lost.”

“Greatly do I pity you, Earl Roderic,” said
Adela, clasping her hands. “And you have not
yet found trace of your little ones?”

“No,” said Roderic. “And now do I believe
that they are still at play in the crystal halls oi
the water-kelpie, whence no man can rescue
them.”
TIOW EARL RODERIC SPILLED THE SALT, 33

“And your wife Sigrid, what of her?” asked
Sir Oscar Redmain.

“When I got back to Gigha,” murmured
Roderic, “they told me that in my absence she
had gone mad, and that in her frenzy she had
cast herself from the cliffs into the sea. Whither-
soever I have gone since that sad time, there
have I found unhappiness.” ;

The Lady Adela looked upon the man with
gentle pity in her dark eyes. She felt how dif.
ferent had been his lot from hers and her dear
husband’s. For notwithstanding that she dwelt
in a country not her own, and among people
who spoke a foreign tongue, yet she was very
happy. The Earl Hamish loved her well and
was ever good to her. And their two sons,
Alpin and Kenric, growing up into manhood,
were very dear to her heart.

She was the daughter of a proud English
baron, who had wide dominions near the great
city of York. Twenty years before, Earl Ham-
ish of Bute had been sent with other wise coun-
sellors by King Alexander the Second on a
mission to the court of the English king, Henry
the Third, concerning the great treaty of peace
between England and Scotland, and also to con-
sider the proposal of a marriage between the
daughter of the King of England and the son

of the King of Scots. The treaty established a
(746 ) Cc
34 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

peace which had not yet been broken, and the
Princess Margaret of England was now the
Queen of Scotland. But while on that embassy
to York Earl Hamish of Bute won more than
the gratitude of his sovereign, for he won the
heart of the Lady Adela Warwick, and, making
her his wife, he brought her to his castle of
Rothesay, where she had lived happily ever
since.

She was thinking of these matters as she heard
Earl Roderic’s story of his great unhappiness,
and her eyes were fixed dreamily before her.

Now Roderic, to whom the presence of this
sweet and beautiful lady was a new experience,
observed her pensiveness and wondered thereat.
His roving glance presently fell upon her plate.
“Ah!” said he, “you have no salt, my lady.”
And thereupon he took her knife and dug its
point into the salt-horn.

“Nay, nay!” she cried in alarm; and she
grasped his wrist so that he spilled the salt upon
the table.

“What have you done?” he exclaimed. “This
is the most unlucky thing that could have hap-
pened! Alas, alas!”

“Would you, then, have helped my lady to
sorrow?” cried Sir Oscar Redmain, rising wrath-
fully. “ By the rood, but you are a thoughtless
loon!”
THE DARKENING HALL. 35

Earl Hamish at the head of the board, hearing
his lady’s cry, rose hastily and approached her,
and saw that she was very pale. ‘‘I will retire,”
said she, “for the hall is over-warm. I am faint
and uneasy.”

Earl Hamish led her to the door. There he
kissed her fondly on her white brow and she
went to her chamber.

CHAPTER IV.
THE DARKENING HALL.

HE lord of Bute sat not down again, for
the feast was at anend. Sir Oscar Red-
main, minding that he had to travel all the way
to Kilmory that night, went to his master and
spoke with him aside. While the earl and his
steward were thus engaged, a tall seneschal with
his serving men came into the hall to clear away.
the remains of the banquet; and as the old
minstrel left his place at the fireside to continue
his harping in the supping-room of the guards,
the two lads, Alpin of Bute and Allan Redmain,
stepped to the hearth to hold converse with the
three guests.
Alpin and his young friend were both about
nineteen years of age. They were almost full-
36 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

grown, and manly exercise had made them
strong. They wore their rough hunting clothes
—loose vests of leather, homespun kilts, and
untanned buskins. They carried no weapons,
for it was held in custom that none should sit
armed at table in the presence of strangers.

“Tell me, Earl Roderic,” said Alpin, running
his fingers through his long hair—“ you have,
you say, been in far-off Iceland—tell me, is it
true that in that land there be many mountains
that shoot forth fire and brimstone?”

« Ay, that is quite true, my lad,” said his much-
travelled uncle, “for I have myself seen such
mountains. - Higher than Goatfell they are, with
streams of fire pouring down their glens.”

“A most marvellous country!” exclaimed Alpin.
“T wonder much if I shall ever behold that land.”

“There you will have no such lordly feast as
that we have just risen from,” added Roderic,
picking his teeth with his broad thumb-nail.

Alpin and Allan watched him, hoping he would
tell them something of his roving life. Roderic,
finding that he could not easily dislodge the
piece of meat from betwixt his teeth, picked up
a twig of pine-wood from the hearth, and took
from the table the large knife with which his
brother had carved the venison, and as he began
to sharpen the little twig to a point he con-
tinued: ;
THE DARKENING HALL. 37

“ No roasted beef there nor venison, but good
tough whale-flesh, black as a peat, or else a few
candle-ends—for the Icelanders are fond of fat.
Once when I was ship-broken on their coasts
naught could my shipmates find to eat but reasty
butter. Disliking that alone, we took our ship’s
cable, that was made of walrus-hide, and
smearing the cable with butter we bolted mor-
sels of it, by which means we managed to exist
for fourteen days. There,” he said, finishing his
toothpick, “that will serve. °Tis strange, is it
not, Master Alpin, what a piece of steel can do?”
And then, first looking at its point, he laid the
long knife carelessly upon the shelf above the
hearth. “Why, in Norway, where I have also
been, your man can take his knife and two slips
of wood nine ells long, and he will so shape the
wood that when the two slips are fitted to his
feet he can outstrip a bird, a hound, or a deer.”

“ Does he, then, fly with them in the air, as a
witch on her broom?” asked Allan Redmain.

“Why, no; he skates along the ice or snow,”
returned Roderic. “With such instruments and
a snowy ground, master Redmain, you might be
back at your castle of Kilmory in two flickers of
arush-light. Go you to Kilmory to-night?”

“Ves,” said Allan, “we go at once, for now
I see my father is ready. Give you good-night,
my lords.”
38 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

“Good-night, boy,” said the three guests. And
Allan, with his father and Alpin, then left the hall.

Two of the cruse-lamps had by this time spent
their oil, and their flames had died out. Earl
Hamish was now alone with his guests.

«“ Shall we,” said he, “retire to the smaller hall,
Roderic? I have ordered Duncan to take some
spiced wine there for us.”

“J like the odour of the log-fire here,” said
Roderic, exchanging glances with Erland the
Old. “I pray you let us remain here a while.”

Earl Hamish and his brother stood side by
side, looking into the fire, while Sweyn the Silent
and Erland the Old sat them at either corner
of the hearth. The two brothers were much
alike in stature, both being tall and broad; but
Hamish was gentler, and his every movement
showed that he was accustomed to the company
of those who deemed a courtly bearing of more
account than mere bodily prowess, though in
truth he lacked not that either. His hair and
beard, too, were dark, touched here and there
with the frost of age; while his brother’s long
hair was red as the back of the fox.

“Well, Hamish,” began Roderic, moving un-
easily on his feet, “you have, as I have heard,
won your way into the good graces of our lord
the King?”

“T trust,” said Hamish, “that I may never be
THE DARKENING HALL. 39

accused of disloyalty. J am ever at my sove-
reign’s service in whatsoever he commands me
to do.”

“What, even though the doing of that ser-
vice be to your own great disadvantage?” said
Roderic, looking aside at Earl Sweyn and smil-
ing grimly.

“Naught can be to my disadvantage that is
done in dutiful service of my country and King,”
answered the lord of Bute proudly.

Roderic laughed scornfully, and his laugh was
echoed by Sweyn and Erland.

“There may be two thoughts as to that,” re-
turned Roderic. ‘As for myself, ?d snap my
fingers in the King’s face ere I would go on a
journey such as you have newly undertaken, my
brother. Think not that we have no eyes nor
ears in the outer isles, Earl Hamish; for it is
known in every castle between Cape Wrath and
the Mull of Kintyre that you have but now
returned from a mission to King Hakon of
Norway.”

“And what though it were yet more widely
known?” said Hamish in surprise. “Am I, then,
the only lord in all the isles who remains true to
his oaths of fealty? And are they all as you
are, Roderic, who have failed these many years
to pay due tribute to the King of Scots?”

“You are the only one among us,” croaked
40 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

_Erland the Old, “who pays not homage to our
rightful lord and sovereign the good King
Hakon.”

“J owe no sort of fealty to Norway,” said
Hamish. “Nor do I know by what right Hakon
claims sovereignty over any one of the isles south
of Jona.”

“Methinks,” said Sweyn the Silent, looking
up under his dark brows, “that Harald Fairhair
settled that matter a good four hundred years
ago.”

“Right well am I aware that at such time
Harald did indeed conquer the Western Isles—
ay, even to Bute and Arran”-—returned Earl
Hamish. “But methinks, my lord of Colonsay,
that my own ancestor the great king Somerled
(God rest him!) did at least wrest the isles of
Bute, Arran, and Gigha from the power of Nor-
way. Those three island kingdoms do to this
day owe truage to no overlord saving only the
King of Scots, and to Alexander alone will I
pay homage.”

At that Earl Roderic’s eyes found their way
to the shelf that was above the hearth, and his
two friends, following his glance, saw the knife
upon the shelf and smiled. From the halls below,
where the guards and servitors were feasting,
came the strains of the minstrel’s harp and a
henchman’s joyous song of triumphant battle.
HE DARKENING HALL. 4i

“Tis then no marvel,” said Roderic, “that the
young King of Scots, like his father before him,
has made of you a willing cat’s-paw. On what
fool’s errand went you to Norway?”

“That,” said the lord of Bute, “is quickly
told;” and he looked round for a moment, ob-
serving that all the lamps save one had burned
out their feeble lights. “I went to Norway,
bearing letters to King Hakon from the King
of Scots and his majesty of England, King Henry
the Third.”

“His majesty of England!” exclaimed all three.

“Henry of England is no more a friend to
the Norseman than is Alexander,” said Hamish,
as he pressed down the burning logs with his
foot. “And I do assure you, my lords, that both
are well prepared to resist the incursions of King
Hakon’s vassals.”

“And what manner of princely reward got
you for your trouble as letter-bearer?” asked
Roderic in a tone of injured envy.

“Ten score head of Highland cattle, I would
guess,” muttered Erland the Old.

“ Nay, twenty score, rather,” chimed in Sweyn
the Silent.

“Methinks, brother Hamish,” said Roderic
hoarsely, as he stepped nearer to him and looked
with an evil scowl into his face—“ methinks it
had been your part to have sent me word, that
42 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

I might also have been of that journey. It hed
been but reason that I had the honour as well
as you. Selfish man that you are, you are ever
ready to win worship from me and put me to dis-
honour!”

At this moment the last remaining cruse-light
flickered, burned blue, flickered again, and then
went out. The hall was now in darkness, saving
only for the feeble light of the fire, and the moon-
beams that slanted in through the mullioned
windows and shone here and there upon some
burnished helmet or corselet upon the walls.

As Roderic of Gigha ceased speaking, Erland
the Old coughed thrice and stroked his silvery
beard. Sweyn the Silent echoed the fatal sign,
and Roderic drew back, resting his right hand
upon the mantel.

“ Had I tarried till I had sent for you, Roderic,”
said Earl Hamish, “I must first have wasted
much precious time in suing with King Alex-
ander for his pardon for my brother who has
betrayed him!”

“You lie! base slanderer! you lie!” cried Ro-
deric in jealous fury, snatching the knife from
off the shelf. And then, springing forward and
raising his right hand above his head, he plunged
the blade deep, deep into his brother's heart.
The good Earl Hamish staggered and fell.

“Treachery!” he groaned. “Adela! Adela!”
A TERRIBLE DISCOVERY. 43

and with the name of his loved wife upon his lips,
he died there upon the stone of his own hearth.

Roderic and his two companions approached
the dead man, gazed upon him, and then at each
other with satisfaction in their dark looks. But
there was fear, too, in Roderic’s face, for he was
craven of heart. He drew back into the shadow,
where neither moonbeam nor firelight could fall
upon him and reveal him.

And all the while the henchman’s song of
triumph reached their ears from the halls below.

CHAPTER V.
A TERRIBLE DISCOVERY.

ENRIC tarried not long in search of the
ghostly figure that had appeared before

him so mysteriously in the dark forest of Barone.
Whence that figure had come and whither it
had gone he could not tell. Nor did he exercise
his mind in fruitless questionings concerning her.
Leaving the rock behind him, he set off at a
brisk pace through the shadows of the trees,
more timid than ever, and came out upon the
high. ground that is behind Rothesay Bay.
Down by the water's brink, outlined against the
moonlit waves, stood the dark towers of Rothesay
44. THE THIRSTY SWORD.

Castle. A light shone dimly in his mother’s
chamber window; but the great banqueting-hall
wherein his father was wont to entertain his
guests was dark, and Kenric thought this passing
strange. Where were the strangers of whom
he had heard? If they were not in the banquet-’ ~
ing-hall, then they must surely have already left
the island.

Hastening down the hillside, he hied him to
the castle, and as he neared the little postern in
the western walls, a burst of boisterous song
reached his ears from the guard-room. Taking
up a stone from the ground he was about to
knock three loud knocks, when the door was
opened from within, and a tall man with a
thick plaid over his broad shoulders slipped out,
almost overthrowing Kenric as he ran against
him.

“Duncan!” exclaimed Kenric, perceiving his
father’s seneschal, “whither go you at this late
hour of night?”

“Ah, master Kenric, and that is yourself, eh?
And you are here, and not at the abbey of St.
Blane’s? Well, sir, it’s a bonnie night, you see,
and I even thought I would take a quiet saunter
along the side of Loch Fad.”

“Then,” said Kenric, “I warn you, go not
near to the forest of Barone, Duncan; for I have
but now come through, and therein I saw a sight
A TERRIBLE DISCOVERY. 45

that would raise your hair on end. It was, as I
believe, none other than the werewolf that I saw.
First there was an old gray wolf with a white
patch on its breast, and then, even as I looked,
that wolf was spirited into the form of a fair lady,
and I was like to sink into the ground with fear.”

‘?Tis the first time that I have heard of a son
of the house of Rothesay knowing fear,” said
Duncan, smiling and showing his great yellow
teeth in the moonlight. “’Twas but the maid
Aasta of Kilmory that you saw.”

“ Aasta? Then it is true that the maid has
been bewitched? It is true that she has that
power of turning herself at will into the form of
a wolf?”

“Men say so,” answered Duncan. “ But me-
thinks ’tis no more true than that other thing
they say of her—that though she looks but a
girl of eighteen, she is yet full fivescore winters
old. ’Tis idle talk, Kenric. But where saw you
this sight? Was it not by the Rock of Solitude,
in the heart of the forest?”

“’Twas even there. But in an instant she
disappeared, and I saw her no more.”

“Tf she be not there now,” said Duncan, heav-
ing a great sigh out of his deep chest, “ then will
I return into the castle; for now do I mind me
that mine eyes are wanting sleep after the weary
day that I have had among the hills, running
46 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

high and low as though I were but a dumb
hound made only to scent out game for those
who know less of hunting than I do of building
a ship. That lazy old gray-beard, the lord of
Jura, may bring his own gillies with him the next
time he comes to the hunting in Bute. Never
again shall he get me to fetch and carry for him!”

“ The lord of Jura?” said Kenric. “It is then
true that there are strangers in the castle.”

“And is it not for that same cause that you
have come home?” asked Duncan. “ Methought
you knew that they were here—three gallant
kings out of the west they are, and one of them
is your own uncle, Earl Roderic of Gigha, whom,
when he was but a bairn as high as my girdle,
I taught to bend the bow and wield the broad-
sword. They are but now in the feasting-hall
with my lord your father; for Sir Oscar and
young Allan have gone home to Kilmory, and
my lady and Alpin have gone to their chambers.”

“Have you then left my father alone with
these three strange men?” asked Kenric as they
entered the postern.

“ My lord’s own brother, Earl Roderic, is with
him,” said Duncan, looking at Kenric in surprise.
“You would not surely have me mount guard
over my lord’s own guests! By the rood, that
were strange hospitality!”

“Where are their dirks and swords?”
A TERRIBLE DISCOVERY. 3 47

“Under my own keeping in the armoury,
where ’tis right they should be; for men of peace,
as these most surely are, encumber not them-
selves with the instruments of war.”

“’Tis well,” returned Kenric, much relieved.
“Old Elspeth Blackfell was but playing me with
her groundless forewarnings of danger. Well,
get me some meat and a bowl of milk, Duncan,
while I go up and see this uncle of mine. He
has seen much of the world, and methinks his
discourse must be full of instruction for a home-
keeping youth.”

So Duncan went into the guard-room, where
two score of noisy retainers were making merry
over their cups, and Kenric went upstairs to the
great hall.

Up the steep stone steps he climbed, making
little noise with his deerskin buskins. Hearing
footsteps at the head of the stairs, he glanced
along the north corridor, whose lancet windows
looked out upon the quiet sea. Suddenly in the
midst of the moonbeams that streamed inthrough
the western window, lighting the corridor with
a clear silvery light, he saw three men steal out
of the banqueting-hall. The last of the three
moaned grievously as they passed beyond into
another apartment.

“Oh, Hamish, Hamish my brother!” he
moaned, and his voice was as the wailing of the
48 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

wind, “what is this evil thing that I have
done!”

Kenric drew back into the shadow of the
stairway, and not seeing his father with the three
guests, he began again to fear some ill.

“What!” croaked the old man with the silvery
beard, “and is this your resolution? Is this
your courage? I fear me, Roderic, you are but
a weak craven thus to deplore the fulfilment of
our most righteous mission!”

Then the door of the smaller hall closed be-
hind the three earls, and Kenric was left alone.
He still heard the rumour of their voices as he
walked with quick steps along the moonlit cor-
ridor, and he paused to listen at the door.

“And now that we have done so completely
with the fox,’ said a voice, “what say you,
comrades, to our making equal despatch with
the vixen and her cub? ’Twere easy doing,
could we but discover in what corner we might
entrap them.”

Kenric did not understand the purport of
these words. He did not guess that the “fox”
meant his own father, and the “vixen and her
cub” his mother and Alpin. But he listened

yet again.
“Wait, wait, my lord of Jura,” said another
voice. “’Twere better we tarried until all the

watch-dogs are *sound asleep. {ill me yon
A TERRIBLE DISCOVERY. 49

drinking-horn, Sweyn, for my hand trembles,
and my mind is strangely cloudy.”

Silence followed this speech, and Kenric crept
along the corridor until he came to the entrance
of the great hall. He drew aside the arras hang-
ings and peered into the deserted room. All
was silent as the grave. The crackling embers
of the fire gave but a sorry light, with only a fitful
glimmer that rose now and again from some
half-consumed pine log. But with the feeble
moonbeams, that shone through the thin films
of skin that in those days—except in the churches
—did service for glass, there was still light
enough in that vast room to show what terrible
deed had been enacted upon the hearth-stone.

Kenric had taken but a few strides into the
hall when his eyes rested upon the form of his
murdered father. He started back aghast at
the horrible sight.

“ Oh, my father, my father!” he cried, flinging
himself down upon the blood-stained floor.
“Father? father? It is I, Kenric—your son.
Tell me, I beseech you, tell me, what foul villain
has done this thing?”

Then he took hold of the earl’s cold right
hand and chafed it tenderly, as he still tried to
arouse him. But there was no response. He
knelt down closer and bent his head to his

father’s bare throat, and, putting out his ONES
(746)
50 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

he felt with its sensitive touch if there was sign
of breathing, or if the pulses were beating in the
veins. Ashe rested his hand on the dead earl’s
chest he touched the haft of the weapon that
had worked this cruel deed. He knew the knife
and guessed how all had happened. He grasped
the handle in his fingers and tried to withdraw
the long blade; but the blood gushed out from
the terrible wound, and the lad grew faint at the
sight.

“ Dead! dead!” he moaned, rising to his feet,
and then from the halls below came the shouts
of the retainers as they pledged “wes hel” to
the lord of Bute.

Kenric hastened out of the hall and crept down
the stairs to summon the guard and station them
in the corridor, that none of the three traitorous
guests might escape.

He met Duncan the seneschal at the foot of
the stairs carrying the food that he had ordered,
and by the light of a lamp in the lower passage
Duncan saw the lad’s pale and terrified face.

“God assoil me!” cried Duncan, “what has
happened?”

“A terrible thing, Duncan. My dear father
has been brutally slain under his own roof-
tree.”

“Slain! My lord, the Earl Hamish slain?
Nay, boy, it cannot be!”
A TERRIBLE DISCOVERY. 51

“Alas, ’tis true! One of those miscreant
traitors who came hither to-day has plunged a
knife into my father’s heart. Take back the
food. I will neither eat nor sleep again until I
have discovered the villain who has done this
foul crime. Turn out the guard this instant.
Station them without the door of the room
wherein those three wicked men are now carous-
ing. And now to call my brother Alpin.”

Kenric went softly to his brother’s room,
which was next to the chamber of the Lady
Adela, and he knocked gently at the door.
Alpin was sound asleep upon his couch, for his
day’s hunting had wearied his limbs. Kenric
went within and awoke him.

In the darkness Alpin did not see his brother’s
pallid face, and he turned over with many
complaints at being so roughly disturbed.

“Nay, Alpin, ’tis for no light cause that I
disturb you,” urged Kenric. And hearing his
husky, trembling voice, Alpin roused himself
with sudden terror.

‘What brings you back to the castle?” he cried;
“and wherefore do you call me at this late hour?”

“Tt is that our father has been entertaining
enemies unawares,’ said Kenric. “ Entering
the hall but a few moments ago I found him
lying dead upon the hearth with a cruel knife in
his heart,”
52 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

Alpin gave a piercing cry of sudden grief and
sprang up from his bed.

“No, no, it cannot be!” he exclaimed, re-
covering himself as he threw on some clothing.
“You have made some strange mistake. These
friends could not have harmed our father. They
were not armed. And what could our uncle
Roderic gain by such treachery?”

Kenric drew his brother out into one of the
dark passages, not observing that their mother’s
chamber door had opened and that the Lady
Adela, roused from her slumber by Alpin’s cry
of grief, had taken the alarm and was preparing
to follow.

“ Alas, he has but too much to gain,” said
Kenric. “Had he been left to carry out his
base plot to the end, you and I, Alpin, must
surely have fallen as our father has fallen—
victims to Earl Roderic’s ambition to make
himself lord over Bute.”

“Tf this be so,” returned Alpin, raising his
voice in wrath, “then with my own hands will
I take a deadly vengeance. I swear it now,
Kenric—by our holy faith I swear that it
Roderic of Gigha has indeed slain our father,
then Roderic shall die by my hand!”

“Will such vengeance give back the life
that has been taken?” asked Kenric solemnly.
« Will vengeance restore to our dear mother the
A TERRIBLE DISCOVERY. 53

happiness that she now has lost? Methinks it
had been wiser in you, Alpin, to have stayed
by our father’s side instead of slinking off to
your bed and leaving him thus exposed to dan-
ger. Come, let us arm ourselves and confront
these evil men, that we may learn which one of
them has dealt this fatal blow.”

“With what weapon, say you, was my father
slain?” asked Alpin, as, being now in the
armoury, they proceeded to don their coats of
chain-mail.

“With the great knife wherewith he was
wont to carve the venison and meat,” said Ken-
ric, taking down a sword.

“Ah!” cried Alpin with swift recollection,
“now do I perceive the reason wherefore Earl
Roderic took that same knife from off the board
and placed it so cunningly above the. hearth.
Oh, villain that he is! He designed even then
to do as he has done. Now,” he added, snatch-
ing up a great two-handed sword, “I am ready.
Let me but meet him—let me but face him for
a moment, and I will slay him like a dog.”

“Think well ere you strike the blow you
contemplate,” said Kenric as they ascended a
side stairway that led to the upper floors of the
castle. “Remember that you are now the rightful
lord over Bute, and that you will have power to
inflict due punishment upon this man without
54 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

taking a personal vengeance that would surely
lead to an endless blood-feud.”

“Tush! You are but a timid boy, Kenric.
What priestly precepts has the old Abbot
Thurstan been cramming you with? Would
you pardon the man who has slain our own
father?”

“Pardon him?” exclaimed Kenric. “No,
never will I do that. If you slay him not,
Alpin, then, by the holy rood, I myself will do so.
But it shall be in fair fight that I will overcome
him, and by no mean subterfuge.”

The two lads were now at the entrance of the
larger hall, wherein the good Earl Hamish lay
dead. Alpin went within, and there, bending
over his father’s body, he was overwhelmed by
his grief. He staggered to a seat and sat down
with his head in his hands, weeping piteously.

Kenric heard loud voices in the corridor, and
grasping his sword he hastened to where the
guards were stationed. Duncan Graham, of the
long arm, was holding parley with the three
earls within the smaller hall. His broad frame
filled up the half-open doorway, so that the
presence of the armed guard was not yet known
to Roderic and his two companions.

“More wine it may be you can have,” said
Duncan; “but as to bringing you your swords,
that I cannot do without orders from my master.”
A TERRIBLE DISCOVERY. 55

“Tam now your master!” said the gruff voice
of Roderic of Gigha; “and again I command
you to bring us our swords and dirks.”

“Vou are no master of mine, Earl Roderic,”
said Duncan; “and now for your insolence shall
you have neither wine nor weapons;” and with
that he slammed to the door.

“Insolent varlet!” growled Roderic within
the room.

“Nay, calm yourself, good Roderic,” said the
voice of Erland the Old; “we had better have
tarried till daylight. It may be that they have
already discovered what you have done. Truly
you were an arrant simpleton to leave the
weapon in your brother's breast. ’Twould have
served our further purpose well.”

Kenric heard these last words, and though
they were spoken in the Danish, yet full well
did he understand that the further purpose of
Earl Roderic was indeed the slaying of the
Lady Adela and Alpin.

Assured that the three miscreants were
unarmed, he drew Duncan aside and whispered
his commands, which were that four of the
guards should follow him into the room and
make prisoners of the three island kings.
Thereupon Duncan went back to the door and
forced it open, and Kenric, with buckler on arm
-and sword in hand, marched in, and stand-
56 THE THIRSTY SWORD, ©

ing firmly upright faced the three men de-
fiantly.

“Which man of you is Earl Rodericof Gigha?”
said he.

CHAPTER VI.

ALPIN’S VOW OF VENGEANCE.

RLAND THE OLD, with an empty
drinking-horn in his bony hand, sat by the
hearth looking vacantly into the dead embers
of the fire. Sweyn the Silent stood beside him
with his thumbs stuck in his leathern girdle;
while Roderic of Gigha sat upon the table facing
the door and swinging his legs to and fro. The
light of a hanging cruse-lamp shone upon his long
red hair and beard. His strong bare arms were
folded, one within the other, across his broad
chest, and the back of his right hand was splashed
with blood that had been partly wiped off upon
his under jerkin.

“Which man of you is Earl Rodericof Gigha?”
repeated Kenric.

The three looked one to the other with evil
smiles. Roderic drank off what remained in his
wine-cup.

“Tam he,” he said coolly as he again folded
ALPIN’S VOW OF VENGEANCE. 57

his arms. “And who, then, are you who de-
mand to know?”

“Then if you be he,” said Kenric, “you are
the vilest man that ever breathed within these
walls. Oh, Roderic MacAlpin, unworthy son
of a noble and good prince, you have brought
the guilt of blood upon your father’s name!
You have slain your own brother, our dear lord
and master; you have shed his life’s blood within
his own hall. Deceitful traitor that you are, you
came to this peaceful island in the semblance of
a friend. But, by all that I hold sacred, you
shall not leave it again ere you have been duly
judged for your foul crime.”

A burst of mocking laughter from Roderic
greeted this speech.

“And now,” added Kenric, turning to the
guard, “take me this man as prisoner to the
deepest dungeon. For though he were King
Hakon himself he should not longer remain as
a guest in the castle whose shelter he has
abused.”

“Let one of those varlets but touch me with
his hand,” said Roderic, “and I will break his
back across my knee. And you, who are you,
my young knave, that dares to threaten his
betters? By St. Olaf, but you are passing bold
to speak of prisoning me in the walls wherein I
was born. Away with you to your couch; this
58 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

is no hour for bairns to be awake.” Then
turning to the lord of Colonsay he said:

“Slip you out behind the young whelp, Sweyn,
and bring me the knife you wot of. This is
surely the stripling of whom we heard. He
barks passing well; let us see if he can bite. A
few ells of cold steel will speedily settle him, I
warrant me.”

Earl Sweyn stepped towards the door, but
one of the men of Rothesay bounded forward
and caught him in his strong arms, struggled
with him for a moment, and then flung him
heavily to the floor.

Roderic, seeing this and waxing wrathful,
sprang lightly from his seat, and ere Kenric
could well understand his intention he had
caught hold of the youth and gripped him by
his sword hand. He wreathed his other strong
arm round the lad’s lithe body. Long he
wrestled with him, but at last he drew him down
by main force with his back across his thigh and
his right hand set hard at his throat. With his
left hand he again gripped Kenric’s sword hand
and tried to wrest the weapon from his grasp.
But Kenric’s wrist was of mighty strength and
he held with a grip of iron to the handle of his
sword. Then Roderic dragged the lad’s hand
forward and got it between his teeth, that by
biting it he might force him to loosen his hold
ALPIN’S VOW OF VENGEANCE. 59

of the weapon. And now Kenric must surely
have been overcome had not Duncan of the
long arm at that moment come behind Earl
Roderic and rushed upon him and caught him
up in his arms. With all the force of his giant
strength the Highlander lifted the man high in
the air and shook him fiercely. Kenric, freeing
himself, drew back to the door, and he saw
Duncan fling Earl Roderic upon the table and
grip him by the throat.

“Spare him!” cried Kenric as the seneschal
drew his dirk.

Then Duncan, thrusting his knife in his garter,
turned Roderic over with his face downward,
and holding him there with his bare knee on
his back, he took off his great plaid and twisting
it ropewise he bound the earl’s arms tightly
together, so that he could no longer move them.

The earl of Colonsay had already been
pinioned in like manner. But Erland the Old,
when he saw Kenric stand free and unharmed,
fearing to be ill-treated, rushed out into the
corridor. There he was met by Alpin, who,
with drawn sword, was about to kill him. His
sword was raised in the act of smiting him when,
from the banqueting-hall beyond, there came a
loud and plaintive cry that echoed throughout
the castle like the cry of a wounded eagle.
Alpin lowered his weapon and, leaving old Erland
60 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

to be arrested by the guards, he sped towards
the hall. Kenric, hearing that scream, followed
after him.

In the hall they found their mother. A crowd
of the men and women of the castle were there
with her, holding torches and lighted cruse-
lamps over the body of the dead lord of Bute.
The Lady Adela was wringing her hands in
frantic grief.

“Who is the villain that hath done this
wicked thing?” she cried as Alpin and Kenric
entered.

“ Roderic, earl of Gigha,” answered Kenric.

“Ah, unhappy hour that ever brought him
within these walls! Where is he now?”

“He is made prisoner with his two cem-
panions,” said Kenric.

“Prisoner—not slain! You have not slain
him? Oh, my sons, where is your spirit? Why
have you let him live thus long? And you,
Alpin, wherefore did you suffer your father to
be left alone with these men?”

“Alas, my mother, was it possible I could
foresee this crime?” said Alpin. “Even my
poor father could not have seen treachery
through the mask of his brother's friendship.”

“There has been some quarrel,” said Dove-
nald the bard. ‘“ Heard you aught of a dispute
between them, young man?”


ENRIC,

NGLE kK

TO STRA

S$

RODERIC TRIE
ALPIN’S VOW OF VENGEANCE. 61

“Methinks there is little need to seek for a
cause of quarrel,” said Kenric. “Roderic of
Gigha is even now meditating how he can make
himself the lord over Bute. No farther shall
he gO, for he cannot now escape the penalty
that is his due.”

“ And what penalty is that?” asked the Lady
Adela.

Kenric turned to Dovenald for reply, know-
ing well that Dovenald was better learned than
any other man in the breast-laws of that land.

“My lady,” said Dovenald, “he must be
judged and punished for his crime as the wise
men of Bute shall direct. Justice will be done.
Fear not for that.” |

“Justice?” cried she. “I know well what
justice means with your wise men. It is not
the worthless fine of a few score of cattle that
would repay me for the loss of my dear husband.
No, no. A life for a life. Earl Roderic has
cruelly slain our good and noble lord, and now
I demand a speedy vengeance.” She flung her-
self on her knees before her son Alpin. “Oh,
my sweet son,” she cried, clasping his two
hands, “I charge you upon my blessing, and
upon the high nobility you inherit, to be rée-
venged upon this traitor for his crime;” and
thereupon she took up the blood-stained weapon
and forced it into her son’s hand,
62 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

Alpin started back and grew pale.

“Fair mother,” said he, “what may this
mean?”

“ Take this fatal knife,” said she, “and before
the blood is dry upon its blade drive it into the
murderer’s black heart.”

Then Alpin, holding the knife, raised his
mother in his arms.

“Dear mother,” said he, “you have given me
a great charge, and here I promise you I shall
be avenged upon Earl Roderic ere long, and
that do I promise to God and to you.”

“Nay, mother,” appealed Kenric, stepping
forward. “In mercy I beg you, charge not my
brother with so terrible a mission. Withdraw
it, I beseech you, for you know not what you
do in thus exposing Alpin to both danger and
dishonour. For if he take vengeance by stealth,
then is his treachery as evil as that of the
murderer whom he would punish. If he
challenge this man to mortal combat, then most
surely he will be slain, for Roderic, as I have
seen, is most powerful of arm, and it is his
heart’s desire that he should slay my brother,
whose death he has already planned. If you
would indeed have this man die, then I entreat
you let me, and not Alpin, fulfil your behest.
Alpin is now our rightful king, and his life is of
more value than mine.”
THE ARROW OF SUMMONS. 63

Now while Kenric was thus speaking his
mother remained in Alpin’s arms, with her head
upon his shoulder. And when Alpin drew
away his arm that she might answer Kenric
face to face, she turned not round, but sank
down at Alpin’s feet, and it was seen that she
was in a swoon.

So Alpin carried her away in his strong arms
to her chamber, where the women of the castle
tended her. But for three long days and nights
she lay on her couch in a strange sickness that
none could understand. For those three days
she was unconscious, speaking never a word.

CHAPTER VII.
THE ARROW OF SUMMONS.

OW the three island kings fared in the dark
dungeons of the castle of Rothesay on

that fatal night need not be told. Earl Roderic
of Gigha had doubtless in his sea-rovings slept
on many a less easy couch. But it may be that
in those dark hours of solitude his mind was
more disturbed than were his hardy limbs. He
had come to Bute full of a guilty design, by the
fulfilment of which he had hoped to at last gain
possession of the rich dominions that he had
64 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

coveted for twenty years. His own inheritance
of the small island of Gigha was not enough to
satisfy his vaulting ambition, and the growing
power of the King ‘of Norway, who was year
by year extending his territories in the west
of Scotland, offered a further inducement to
Roderic, who believed that by slaying his brother
Hamish, and taking his place, he might bring
the island of Bute under the protection of the
Norwegian crown.

His design was clumsily planned, for though
subtle as a fox, Roderic was yet an ignorant
man, even for those uncultured times, and he
had failed to take into account the two sons of
Earl Hamish, both of whom stood between him
and the coveted earldom, and who now appeared
to him as an obstacle not easy to overcome.

But for the unexpected appearance of Kenric,
however, even this obstacle in his path might
have been cleared; for he had planned that in
the darkness and quiet of the night he would
steal into the sleeping chamber of Alpin and so
deal with him that he would never again waken
to claim his dead father’s lands. Roderic had
learned from the Lady Adela that her younger
son, Kenric, was but a boy of sixteen, living
with the learned abbot of St. Blane’s, and to the
wicked earl of Gigha it seemed that Kenric
might be disposed of by very simple means.
THE ARROW OF SUMMONS, 65

But now, even after having slain his brother,
he had failed in his object. Instead of being
king in Bute, he was a prisoner in the deepest
dungeon of Rothesay Castle.

The moor-fowl had scarcely shaken the dew
from off their wings ere the two sons of the
ead Earl Hamish were climbing the heathery
heights behind Rothesay. With them went the
aged Dovenald, bearing in his arms a young
goat, white as the driven snow. When they
were upon the topmost knoll they stood a while.
Dovenald laid down the bleating kid, whose
little feet were tethered one to the other, and he
bade the two youths go about and gather some
dry twigs of heather and gorse that a fire might
be made.

A soft breeze from over the moorland played
with the silvery locks of the old man’s bare head.
He turned his face to the east and looked across
the gray waters of the Clyde, where above the
hills of Cunningham, the dawn was breaking
into day. Southward then he gazed and watched
the giant mountains of Arran that were half.
shrouded in rosy mists. Very soon the golden
light of the rising sun kissed here and there the
jagged peaks of Goatfell, and Dovenald bent
his head and murmured a prayer, calling upon
God to shed His light into the hearts of men

and to guide them in the solemn work they were
(746) E
66 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

called upon to fulfil that day. Then he turned
to Alpin.

“ Now kindle me the fire,” he said. “Here are
flint and steel. And, Kenric, give me the arrow.”

He took the arrow in his hand and waited
till the fire was well alight. With the arrow’s
point he stirred the flaming twigs, and the two
youths looked on.

“And now take your dirk, Alpin,” said he,
“and slay me the kid. Give as little pain as
may be, for it is not well that the innocent thing
should suffer.” .

Kenric held the animal while his brother
drove his sharp dirk into its white and throbbing
throat. The kid turned its soft blue eyes upon
him and gave a plaintive bleat. Its warm
breath rose visible in the morning air and then
died away.

‘Tis done!” said Kenric, and Dovenald
brought the burning arrow and extinguished
it in the kid’s blood. With the innocent blood
he smeared the arrow’s shaft.

“Fly now as speedily as your feet can carry
you to the castle of Kilmory,” said the old man
to Alpin, giving him the arrow, “and you will
give this burnt arrow into the hands of Sir
Oscar Redmain. No need have you to tell him
the meaning thereof. It is a summons ordained
by ancient custom, and well known to all the
THE ARROW OF SUMMONS. 07

wise men of Bute. Sir Oscar will despatch it
to our good father the abbot of St. Blane’s. The
abbot will in like manner send it to Ronald
Gray of Scoulag. So, in turn, will it pass round
to each of the twelve wise ruthmen, calling them
one and all to hasten to the Seat of Law on the
great plain beside Ascog mere, that they may
there in solemn assize pronounce judgment
upon the traitor who hath slain our king,
Haste! haste! my son. Why do you tarry?”

“ Have I not sworn an oath on my mother’s
blessing that I will have this man Roderic’s life?
Why, then, should this assize be assembled ?”

“Go, do my bidding, rash boy,” said Dove-
nald sternly. “Seek not to oppose the customs
of your ancestors, and let not your thirst for
vengeance now blind you to the folly of violence.
Go, I command you; and believe me the earl
of Gigha shall not escape just retribution.”

Alpin, then, taking the arrow in his right
hand, ran off at a brisk pace down the hill.
Kenric took up the dead kid and walked at
Dovenald’s side towards Rothesay.

“Rash, rash that he is,” murmured the old
man. “Much do I fear that he will make but
a sorry king. He is over hasty, and his judg-
ment is ofttimes wrong. He will not rule as did
his father. The Lady Adela hath spoiled him
with her caresses.”
68 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

“You are over hard upon my brother,” said
Kenric. “There lives not a man in the Western
Isles better fitted than Alpin for the great office
of kingship, He is just, and noble, and trusty.
No man in all Bute can say that he ever broke
a promise or told an untruth. Think you that
because he is hasty with his dirk he is therefore
a thoughtless loon, who knows not when a gentle
word can do more service than a blow? When
did he ever draw dirk or sword without just
cause? You do not know him as I do, Dove-
nald, or you would not breathe a word in his
dispraise. And if my gentle mother loves him
above all else next to my father, whom she has
now lost, who shall say that Alpin is not deserv-
ing of her great favour?”

The old retainer walked on in silence. Pre-
sently he turned to Kenric and said:

“What has your brother done with the
weapon wherewith my lord was slain? He
tried in the dead of night to gain entrance to
the traitor Roderic that he might use that fatal
knife even as my lady so weakly charged him
to do. Where is it, I say?”

“T know not,” said Kenric. “ But methinks
‘tis a pity he did not drive it into the villain’s
heart.”

“My son! my son! let me not hear you utter
such evil thoughts again. It ill becomes a pupil
AN ERIACH-FINE, 69

of our holy abbot to speak thus. And yester-
night you were disposed to leave the guilty earl
to whatever punishment the wise men should
appoint.”

“Reflection has changed me, Dovenald; and
were Roderic before me at this moment I would
willingly lay him dead at my feet. Should
Alpin fail to slay him, then will I fulfl my
revenge. In fair fight or by stealth Roderic
shall surely die.”

“Alas, that I should ever hear such words
from one so young!” murmured Dovenald.
And the old man continued his complaints until
they had entered the castle gates.

CHAPTER VIII.
AN ERIACH-FINE.

NDER the clear sky of high noon the people

of Bute had assembled on the great plain

of Laws, at the margin of Loch Ascog. They
had come from all parts of the island, for the
word had travelled round with the swiftness of
a bird’s flight that their good king, Earl Hamish,
had been cruelly slain by his own brother, and
all were eager not only to see the man who had
7O THE THIRSTY SWORD.

done this treacherous deed, but also to hear
judgment passed upon him for his crime.

At the foot of the great standing-stone Sir
Oscar Redmain, as steward or prefect of Bute,
took his seat as judge. Noble and comely he
looked, holding his great glittering sword, point
upward, waiting for the prisoner and his accuser.
At his right stood Godfrey Thurstan, the good
abbot of St. Blane’s, with his cowl drawn over
his reverend head to shield him from the warm
sun. At his left Dovenald, most learned in the
laws of the land, ready to explain and discuss
the ancient legal customs; and round them in
a circle were the others of the twelve ruthmen.
The witnesses or compurgators stood in an
outer ring within a fencing of cords running
from stake to stake. Without the verge of the
sacred circle of justice were gathered a great
crowd of islanders—herdsmen and husbandmen,
tribesmen, fishermen, and thralls—who had left
their labours on hill and in vale, or on the sea,
and come hither crying out loud for speedy
vengeance.

Duncan Graham the seneschal and his guards
of the castle had already gone amongst these
onlookers to see that no man carried weapons,
for it was held in strict custom that none should
bear arms or make disturbance at such a time
on pain of life and limb.
AN ERIACH-FINE. 71

These hardy islanders, as they stood in silence,
were a rugged set of men, with sunburnt faces
and bushy beards. Many of them were clothed
in garments of sheep-skin, others of a better
condition wore a plaid or mantle of frieze. They
had buskins made of raw hide, and a knitted
bonnet, though many of them wore no covering
for their heads but their own shaggy hair tied
back with a leathern strap.

The assize being sworn and admitted the
abbot stepped forward and called upon the God
of the Christians to punish the peace-breaker.
Then the crowd opened and young Alpin came
in, stalwart, handsome, noble, and bowed before
the judge.

He wore a mantle of tartan, clasped at the
shoulder by a silver buckle. His legs were
swathed in fine cloth and cross-gartered below
the bare knees, and his feet were encased in
brogues with silver clasps. His long hair was
well combed, and it hung about his broad
shoulders in dark brown locks. A deep hum of
praise rose in greeting from many throats as he
stood in the light of the noonday sun.

“ Hail to Earl Alpin, king of Bute!” cried one.

“Long life to the king!” cried another; and
the cries were taken up by the whole assembly,
dying away in echoes among the far-off hills.

Then Alpin raised his hand and asked that
72 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

the chain of silence should be shaken; and when
one of the guards had shaken the rattling chains
and all were listening with bated breath he took
up and made his plea, demanding prompt justice
on the slayer of his father.

“And whom do you charge with this foul
crime?” asked Sir Oscar Redmain, though indeed
none needed to be told.

“JT charge Roderic MacAlpin, king of Giga?
said Alpin, and at that there was a great yell of
execration.

“Down with the traitor! Death to him!”
was the cry as the crowd opened. And Alpin
turning round saw Duncan Graham—taller by
a head than the tallest man there present—
leading in the criminal, followed by his two
companions of Colonsay and Jura.

In a moment Alpin sprang forward at his
enemy. He raised his right hand and all saw
that he held the blood-stained knife.

“Die, slayer of the just!” he cried, bringing
down the weapon upon Roderic’s breast.

But Roderic of Gigha laughed a mocking
laugh, and catching Alpin by the wrist he threw
him backward. Duncan Graham broke his fall
and tore the weapon from his grasp.

“Oh, foolish lad!” he murmured, “to attempt
such a thing within the very fences of the court!”

“ Alpin of Bute,” said the judge gravely as he
AN ERIACH-FINE. 73

rose from his seat, “you have done that which
no other man in this land might do without the
severest punishment. You are here to plead
the cause of justice, and not to insult those whom
you have summoned to this place to do justice
for you. Bear yourself discreetly, or resign
your cause into the hands of those who can
control their wrath.”

Alpin scowled as he again took his place
before the judge, and then when silence had
been restored he proceeded to state the whole
case concerning the killing of his father.

By his side stood Kenric, who helped him
when he faltered in his narrative. The two
brothers might almost have been mistaken for
master and serf, so much did their appearance
differ. Kenric’s face was unwashed and streaked
with the traces of tears. His brown hair, lighter
than Alpin’s, was rough and tangled, and now,
as always, he wore no covering on his head.
His coarse buckskin coat looked mean beside
the richer apparel of his brother, and his buskins
were ill-tied and his kilt was dusty and tattered.
The elder brother was taller and more lithe of
body; but Kenric’s bare arms and legs were
thick and strong, and despite his coarse clothing
he bore himself no less nobly upright than did
Alpin.

“ Roderic, son of Alpin, what have you to say
74. THE THIRSTY SWORD.

in defence for this grave crime whereof you are
accused?” asked Sir Oscar Redmain when Alpin
had told his tale.

The two lads stepped back and Roderic took
their place. His long golden hair as the sun-
light fell upon it shone scarcely less bright than
the well-wrought dragon that twined its scaled
form upon his burnished helm of brass. He
looked towards his judge with bold defiance in
his blue eyes.

“What the boy says is true,’ said he. “I
slew my brother Hamish. I slew him upon his
own hearth-stone. But it was in fair fight that
I did it; and I call my two friends, the lords of
Jura and Colonsay, to bear me out in the truth
of what I say.”

There was a loud howl of rage from the crowd
as he spoke these false words, and no one tried
to stifle those outbursts of popular feeling.

‘Tis a lie you tell!” cried Kenric furiously as
he pushed his brother aside and confronted Earl
Roderic. “You say it was in fair fight you
smote my father his death-blow. Oh, perjured
villain! Where, then, was my father’s weapon?
Had he been armed with a knife such as the
one you used, methinks you would not now be
here to utter your false words. Your own arms
were left in the armoury hall, where ’twas right
they should be; and you took up the knife from
AN ERIACH-FINE. 75

the board, knowing full well what you meant to
do with it. Oh, Roderic MacAlpin, may your
tongue shrivel in your throat ere you utter such
base and wicked lies again! You came to this
island, the land of your fathers, with the evil
purpose of climbing over our dead bodies to the
kingship that you covet—”

Roderic bit his lips with rage and doubled his
great fists as he stepped forward to smite young
Kenric to the ground. Kenric drew back.

“T know it,” continued Kenric with full and
sonorous voice that might have been heard at
the further side of Ascog mere. “1 know your
purpose, Roderic of Gigha. Think you that
there are none of us that can understand the
Norse tongue in which you spake to your two
base comrades? J know that tongue. I heard
your craven moans of anguish when you came
out from that darkened hall wherein my father
lay dead. I heard you tell of how you meant
to slay the vixen and her cubs. And who are
they? My mother and Alpin and me! My
mother, whom you flattered with soft speeches
—my mother, in whose presence you were not
worthy to breathe, and whose noble heart you
have now broken by your murderous treachery.
And you would have slain her as you slew our
father. I thank the great God who stayed your
hand from fulfilling such devil’s work to the
76 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

end. May He punish you as you deserve to
be punished for the evil you have done!”

A deep silence followed upon this speech, and
then a thousand lusty voices broke out in a pro-
longed groan of imprecation. But Roderic of
Gigha only turned to Erland the Old and smiled.

Kenric looked to the crowd that stood behind
the judge’s seat, and there he saw Ailsa Red-
main standing with her brother Allan; and
Ailsa’s eyes glistened with approval of what
Kenric had just spoken, and he took new cour-
age.

“Men of Bute,’ said Sir Oscar Redmain,
turning to the ruthmen, “ye have heard what
has passed. It is now for you to pronounce
judgment upon the accused man. What say
you?”

“That Earl Roderic is guilty of the crime,”
said Ronald Gray, their spokesman, “and that
he shall pay the highest penalty that our laws
can impose.”

“Then,” said Alpin, “I claim that Roderic of
Gigha shall die the death.”

But at that the wise men shook their heads.

“In the time of my father, the good king
Alpin,” said Roderic with a voice of triumph, “it
was ordained, as all of you must surely know,
that no man should die for the slaying of his
enemy unless he were caught red-handed and
AN ERIACH-FINE. 77

with the weapon in his hand; but that for taking
the life of a man in hot blood he should be
assoiled or cleansed on payment of the eriach-
fine, which is nine-score of kine, to the kin of
his victim. And I ask Dovenald Dornoch if
this be not so?”

At this Alpin held speech with Dovenald the
lawman, and his face grew sullen in disappoint-
ment.

“ Alas!” said Alpin to Sir Oscar, “what Earl
Roderic hath said is indeed true; for it seems that
my grandsire, king Alpin, and also my father,
who is dead, did in their mercy so ordain that
crimes of violence should be dealt with in such
manner that the traitor might have time in which
to repent of his ill-deeds and commend himself
to God. But for the slaying of a king the fine
is not nine-score, but six times nine-score of kine,
or three thousand golden oras. And if that fine
be not paid within a year and a day, then shall
the traitor die the death. And now, oh men of
Bute, since that I cannot see this man die—as,
would that I might!—TI call upon him for the
due payment of my eriach-fine. And moreover,
oh judge, you and the wise men of Bute whom
I see here present are guarantees for the full
payment, and you shall see that it be paid within
a year and a day.”

Now this was far from being what Roderic
78 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

wished, for well he knew that no man in all the
Western Isles would spare him if he failed to
pay the price of his liberty. But also he knew
that neither in cattle nor in other movable wealth
was it in his power to pay the value of a thou-
sand head of cattle in so short a time. So he
up and told this to Sir Oscar Redmain.

“T cannot pay the fine,” he said; “for not in all
my lands and ships do I possess such wealth nor
know I any man who would be my broch, or bail.”

“ Then,” said Sir Oscar, “if that be so, I now
pronounce you an outlaw in the Western Isles
and in Scotland, and our sovereign lord, King
Alexander, shall ratify that sentence upon you
forthwith. You shall be an outlaw for the term
of three years and three days. For those three
days you shall live within the sanctuary of
Dunagoil and under the protection of the good
abbot of St. Blane’s. On the third day, or
before, you shall take ship and depart hence
whithersoever the holy abbot shall direct you.”

Then turned Sir Oscar to the crowd.

“Men of Bute,” said he, “I charge you all
that if within three years to come any of you
shall see this man Roderfc MacAlpin within the
isle of Bute, or within his forfeited lands of
Gigha and Cara, or in any other land in the
dominions of the King of Scots, you shall put
him to the sword and slay him,”
AN ERIACH-FINE. 79

There was a loud cry of assent; and Roderic,
wrathful at his position, felt at his side for his
absent sword.

Here again were his plans defeated. The
sentence passed upon him required that during
his three days of grace in the sanctuary of the
church lands no man should molest him or hold
speech with him. How, then, could he hope to
compass the death of the two lads, Alpin and
Kenric, who stood in the way of his ambition?
Turning his eyes with fierce malice upon the
two brothers he stepped boldly to the front.

“ There is yet another way for me,” he cried
aloud. “Think you that I, a king, am to be
hunted about by a set of wolves like these?
No, no. Now, on this spot and before you all, do
I claim wager of battle, for that is my due. Let
any man of you stand forth and meet me in fair
fight, and I will fight him to the death.”

Then Duncan Graham, the seneschal, came
forward in his towering height, and said he:

“J will fight you, treacherous earl, for you
deserve to die!”

“Vou!” exclaimed Roderic, awed at the man’s
giant height. “Not so. An earl may hold such
combat with none but his equals. I will not cross
swords with a low-born churl like you. Show
me a man whose blood is worthier of my steel.”

“Coward!” cried Duncan; “you are afraid to
80 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

cross arms with me. I would slay you at the
first passage.”

“There is but one among you who is of my
own rank,” said Roderic, ‘and there he stands;”
and he pointed to Alpin.

“And I am ready,” said Alpin. “I will en-
gage with you to the death, And God defend
the right!”

CHAPTER IX.
THE ORDEAL BY BATTLE.

HILE Duncan Graham and one of the

guards went back to the castle of Rothesay
to bring the swords of Alpin and Roderic, Sir
Oscar Redmain pronounced the assize at an
end; and such as wished not to witness the
deadly combat—the abbot Godfrey and some
few women—went away.

Then Roderic stood apart with Erland the
Old and Sweyn the Silent, bidding them not
wait for their weapons, but to slip away out of
the crowd and get them to their ship, and so
away to their island homes.

“Our project has so far failed,” said he; “but
be assured that I shall yet gain the lordship
over Bute. They have made me an outlaw, and
U fear me that Redmain will most surely com-
THE ORDEAL BY BATTLE. 81

municate this whole matter to the King of Scots.
Well, be it so; we shall see what Alexander can
do. Methinks it will not be long that he will
hold his own against us. When these three
years of my outlawry are over you shall see
such things as will surprise you. Farewell, good
Erland, and you, dear Sweyn! Hold you both
fast by King Hakon. That is our highest game;
and so we serve him well there is no fear but
we will reap a good harvest of power.”

“God grant it may be so!” said Erland; “ for
if his Majesty of Norway fail in conquering
Scotland, then are we all lost men. Farewell,
then!”

When Sir Oscar Redmain had left the seat
of justice his daughter Ailsa crept within the
circle of the court, and there she found Kenric.

“As I came hither,” she said, “I saw Elspeth
Blackfell; and she bade me ask you, Kenric, if
what she spake had aught of sooth in it?”

“ Ah,” said Kenric, “right truly did she tell
what was to befall. For even as it was with
your nest of ouzels, Ailsa, so has it been with
the castle of Rothesay. This man Roderic, is
he not even as the stoat that harried the nest?”

“Even so,” said Ailsa. “But the stoat also
slew the fledgling as well as the parent bird.
Elspeth, when she heard that the good Earl

Hamish had been so cruelly slain, looked grave,
(746) ¥
82 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

and, said she, ‘Hasten, Ailsa, to the sons of
Rothesay and bid them still be wary of this
man. Not until he is dead will all danger from
him be past.’ Those were her words, Kenric;
and lest there should be truth in them I have
come to you as speedily as I might. Alpin is
about to engage in mortal combat. Bid him be
wary, bid him arm himself well; for I heard one
of the shepherds say that Roderic is clothed in
a shirt of iron network, and that if it had not
been so the knife wherewith Alpin smote him
would have slain him where he stood.”

“ Ailsa,” said Kenric, “much do | fear me
that there is ample need of this warning. Help
me, I beseech you. Run to the castle and bid
Duncan not fail to bring my brother’s coat of
mail.”

Then Ailsa disappeared and like a lapwing
ran across the moorland.

Not long had she been gone when Duncan
appeared, bearing two great claymores. But he
had not brought the coat of mail; and Kenric
seeing this drew his brother aside and bade him
tarry until Ailsa should return, that he might
protect his body with the chain shirt, and so be
equal with his foe.

The men of Bute then went in a vast crowd
to the lower march beside Ascog mere, for it
was against the ancient custom that any blood
THE ORDEAL BY BATTLE. 83

should be shed within the sacred circle reserved
for the administration of the laws. And they
formed a great ring upon the level ground, in
the midst of which stood Earl Roderic alone,
with his great two-handed sword in his hand,
and the sun glancing upon his helm as he held
his head proudly aloft.

And the cry went about:

“ Alpin! where is Alpin? Is he then afraid: »”

But soon a gap was made in the circle and
Alpin strode boldly forward with a light step.

Kenric, who had sent Ailsa away, telling her
that it was no sight for a girl, stood beside Sir
Oscar and Allan Redmain, and he told how
Ailsa had brought Alpin’s armour.

“Then am I much relieved,” said Sir Oscar.
‘Nevertheless there is no man I know, unless
it be Sir Piers de Currie, who can handle a
sword as your brother can; and methinks Earl
Roderic will not easily bear up against him.
Look at them both. Alpin is fresh and lithe as
a young stag. Ah, Roderic, methinks your hour
has surely come!”

Alpin dressed the end of his plaid about his
left arm and pulled out his sword. He stood at
five paces from his foe. Then both swerved
about with their heads bent forward. Still keep-
ing apart, eyeing one the other, round and round
they traversed. Then Alpin got his back to the
84. THE THIRSTY SWORD.

sunlight, drew himself up, and flung back his
sword. With a fierce cry they rushed together
and their swords clashed with mighty strokes.
Then they both reeled backward two strides to
recover. Tracing and traversing again they
leapt at each other as noble men who had often
been well proved in combat, and neither would
stint until they both lacked wind, and they stood
a while panting and blowing, each grasping his
Weapon ready to begin again. When they had
rested they went to battle once more, tracing
and foining and hurtling together, so that none
who beheld them could know which was like to
win the battle. Their clothing was so far hewn
that the chains of their coats of mail could be
seen. Alpin hada cut across his knee, Roderic’s
arm was bleeding. Roderic was a wily man of
war, and his wily fighting taught Alpin to be
wise and to guard well his bare head, for it was
ever at his head that Roderic aimed. Often he
smote such strokes as made Alpin stagger and
kneel; but in a moment the youth leapt lightly
to his feet and rushed at his foe, until Roderic’s
arms and face were red with blood.

The crowd about them hailed Alpin’s dexter-
ous fighting with lusty cries of approval, and
none doubted that he would soon make an end
of his boastful antagonist. But neither had yet
gained the upper hand.
THE ORDEAT BY BATTLE. 85

So for a full half-hour they fought, until Alpin
at length sorely wounded Roderic on the
shoulder, At that Roderic was wroth out of
measure, and he rushed upon Alpin, doubling
his mighty strokes. Their swords clashed and.
clanged and flashed in bright circles through
the air. But at last, by fortune, Roderic smote
Alpin’s sword out of his hand, and if Alpin had
stooped to pick it up surely he would have been
slain. He stood still a moment and beheld his
weapon with a sorrowful heart. There was
a deep groan of anguish from the crowd, and
Kenric, seeing the peril in which his brother
was placed, would have rushed forward to
Alpin’s help had not Duncan Graham held him
back, fearing that he too might find himself in
Earl Roderic’s power. Then Allan Redmain
was about to run.in to Alpin’s aid, but his father
caught his arm and bade him stand back.

“ How now?” cried Roderic. ‘“ Now have I
got you at an advantage as you had me yester-
night. But it shall never be said that Roderic
of Gigha would meanly slay any man who was
weaponless. And therefore take up your sword,
Earl Alpin, and let us make an end of this battle.”

Roderic then drew back that Alpin might
without hindrance take up his sword. Then
into Roderic’s eyes there came a look of fixed
fury, and in that look Alpin read his doom.
86 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

Again they took their ground, and this time
neither seemed so eager to spring at the other.
But at last young Alpin leapt wildly at his foe,
with his sword upraised in the grip of his two
hands. Down came his weapon with a mighty
swing, and all thought surely that blow would
be Roderic’s end. But Roderic sprang lightly
aside, so that the young man’s aim was spent
upon the soft ground. Roderic’s sword flashed
in a circle above his crested helm. There was
a dull crunching sound, and then a deep groan.

Kenric promptly rushed to his brother's side
and tried to raise him from the ground. But
the sword of Roderic of Gigha had done its
work. Earl Alpin was dead.

Then the men of Bute, seeing what had be-
fallen their young king, raised a wailing cry that
rent the sunny air, and they closed in their
ranks around their fallen chief.

Earl Roderic looked but for a moment at
Alpin, and then swinging his blood-stained sword
from right to left he passed through the crowd
of men. For the islanders, having just left the
court of the mooting, were none of them armed.
So when Roderic made his way into their midst
they fell back beyond the range of his swinging
blade. They saw that he was making his way
towards the shores of the lake, which was but
a few paces from where the battle had been


HER.”

ET:

ED TOG

“WITH A FIERCE CRY THEY RUSH
THE ORDEAL BY BATTLE. 87

fought. Many of them picked up great stones
and flung them after him and struck him on the
back.

“ Down with the base traitor!” they cried.

But he little heeded either their missiles or
their menacing cries. On he sped until his feet
were ankle-deep in the mere. Then he turned
round for a moment and saw young Kenric,
armed with his brother’s sword, with Sir Oscar
Redmain, Allan, Duncan Graham, and many
others pursuing him.

He sent up a hollow mocking laugh as he
lightly sheathed his sword. Then he waded
farther into the loch and threw himself into the
deeper waters, so that only his glancing helm
could be seen above the surface. As the
antlered stag, pursued by men and_ hounds,
swims swiftly over the mountain tarn to the
safety of crag and fell, so swam Earl Roderic
before the fury of the men of Bute. And none
dared follow him, for it is said that that loch is
deeper than the hills are high.

So many ran round to the farther shores that
they might there meet him and assail him with
showers of stones. In the brief time that had
passed between two settings of the sun this man,
this traitorous sea-rover, had taken the lives of
two kings—the well-beloved Hamish, who had
ruled over that little nation for a score of peaceful
88 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

and prosperous years, and Alpin, his son and
successor, who had fallen ere yet he had known
the power of his kingship. And forgetting that
by the sentence of outlawry which their judge
had passed but two hours before, Roderic had
been allowed three days of grace, during which
it was a crime to molest him, they were driven
to the extremity of wild rage; they thirsted for
his blood. It was not now enough that he
should quit their island with his treachery un-
avenged; they wanted to strike him down that
the world might no longer harbour a villain
whose evil deeds were blacker and more terrible
than any the oldest man in Bute had ever
known.

But ere they had turned either point of the
lake Roderic had already gained the firm ground
on the western shore, and now he shook the
water from him and sat down on a large stone
to rest his limbs and to dress his bleeding
wounds.

Soon he heard the rumour of men’s angry
cries coming nearer and nearer, like the yelping
of a pack of wolves. Rising and looking about
him he saw many men running towards him
from north and from south through the dingle
of Lochly; and now most surely he might think
that he was entrapped, for he was upon the strip
of land that divides Loch Ascog from Loch Fad.
THE ORDEAL BY BATTLE. 89

His deep voice rang out across the moorland
like the bellowing call of the stag that challenges
his rival in the glens. Bracing his long sword
about his back he crossed westward over the
rising ground until he came in view of the quiet’
waters of Loch Fad, where a flock of wild swans,
startled at his approach, flew over towards the
forest of Barone.

The two companies of islanders closed in upon
him, believing doubtless that he would be speedily
overcome. ‘The one band was led by Sir Oscar
Redmain and his son, the other by Duncan
Graham and Kenric.

Roderic ran onward to the water's edge,
and ere the first stone that was thrown could
reach him he had plunged into Loch Fad, and
as he swam outward stones and clods of turf fell
in showers about his head. A stone thrown
by Kenric struck him on the helmet. He sank
deep down, and all believed that the water
would be his death. But, like the diver-bird of
his native seas, he went under but to appear
again many yards away beyond the reach of any
weapon but the arrow, and of arrows there were
none in all that company.

Now Loch Fad, which is the largest of the
lakes of Bute, is full two miles long and but
four furlongs wide, and it was useless for any to
think of meeting the fugitive earl on the farther
9o THE THIRSTY SWORD.

shore. So at the bidding of Sir Oscar Redmain
the men all gave up the chase and turned back
to where the dead body of Lord Alpin lay prone
upon the turf, and thence they bore him to the
castle of Rothesay.

CHAPTER X.
AASTA’S CURSE.

ODERIC of Gigha, for all that he had been
absent from Bute for a score of years, had
not forgotten the old landmarks that. had been
familiar to him in boyhood. After swimming
across Loch Fad he found himself among the
tall pine-trees of the forest of Barone. Wet
and weary after his escape from his pursuers,
and smarting sorely of his many wounds, he
passed through the forest glades and emerged
at the point where, on the evening before,
Kenric had entered.
As he skirted the lands of Kilmory he saw
a herd of shaggy long-horned cattle browsing
there, with many sheep and goats. He looked
about for their shepherd that he might ask him
concerning the earls of Jura and Colonsay. He
began to regret that he had so lightly dismissed
his friends, who might better have waited to
carry him in their ship to Gigha. Presently he
AASTA’S CURSE. gI

heard voices from behind a great rock. A
young sheep-dog appeared, but when it saw
him it turned tail and slunk away as if it were
afraid of him. Then from behind the rock
came young Lulach the herd-boy, and with him
a most beautiful girl, Lulach stood for a mo-
ment looking at the strange man.

“Ah, ’tis he! ’Tis he whom we were but
now speaking of!” he cried, and dropping the
brown bread-cake that he had been eating he
ran away down the hill in terror.

But the girl stood still, with her hand resting
on the rock.

Now this girl was the same strange maiden
who had appeared so mysteriously before Kenric
on his night journey through the forest. Tall
she was and very fair—tall and graceful as a
young larch-tree, and fair as the drifted snow
whose surface reflects the red morning sun.
Her eyes were blue as the starry sky, and her
long hair fell upon her white skin like a dark
stream of blood. Men named this wondrous
maiden Aasta the Fair.

Earl Roderic started back at sight of her
great beauty as she stood before him in her
gray and ragged garments, for she was but a
‘poor thrall who worked upon the lands of Kil-
mory, minding the goats upon the hills or mend-
ing the fishermen’s nets down on the shore.
92 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

“ Fair damsel,” said he, “tell me, I pray you,
if you have seen pass by an aged man and his
companion towards the bay of Scalpsie?”

“’Tis but an hour ago that they passed hence,”
said Aasta. “Cursed be the occasion that
brought both them and you into this isle!” Thea
she pointed across the blue moor of the sea
where, under the shadow of the high coast of
Arran, a vessel appeared as a mere speck upon
the dark water. “Yonder sails their ship into
the current of Kilbrannan Sound.”

« Alas!” said Roderic, “and I am too late.”

“ Alas, indeed!” said Aasta. “ Methinks they
had better have tarried to take away with them
the false traitor they have left upon our shores.
What manner of foul work detained you that
you went not hence with your evil comrades?
But the blood that I now see flowing from your
wounds tells its own tale. You have slain Earl
Alpin in the fight. Woe be upon you!”

“Even so,” said Roderic, “for hard though
he pressed me with his vigorous blows, yet my
good sword was true to the last, and I clove his
young head in twain.”

“Woe to you, woe to you, Roderic of Gigha!”
cried Aasta,shrinking from hisapproach. “Curses
be upon you for the evil work that you have
done. May you never again know peace upon
this earth. May those you love—if any such
AASTA’S CURSE. 93

there be—may they be torn from you and slain
before your eyes. Worse than brute that you
are, meaner than the meanest worm that creeps,
curse you, curse you!”

Then as Aasta drew yet farther back her
hand was caught by another hand which drew
her gently aside, and from behind the rock ap-
peared the gaunt figure of old Elspeth Black-
fell. And Lulach the herd-boy, having over-

, come his fears, crept nearer and stood apart.
. Roderic paused at seeing the old crone, and
his face grew pale.

“ Unworthy son of Bute!” said Elspeth, point-
ing her thin finger at the island king, “ you have
heard this good maiden’s curse. Even so do all
the dwellers in Bute curse you at this hour.
But the great God who sees into all hearts, and
in whose hands alone must rest our vengeance—
He will surely repay you for the sorrows that
your wickedness has caused. Go, Roderic
MacAlpin. Go, ere it is too late, and before the
high altar of St. Blane’s pray to Him for the
mercy and forgiveness that you sorely need.”

Roderic bowed his head and nervously clasped
and unclasped his hands.

“Go while there is yet time and confess your
sins,’ continued Elspeth. “And if-there is
aught of penitence in your black heart then seek
from our good and holy abbot the means where-
94. THE THIRSTY SWORD.

by you may fulfil your penance during the days
that remain to you on earth.”

It seemed that a great change had come over
him as he walked away, for his step was halting
and his head was bowed. He walked along by
the cliffs that are at the verge of the sea; south-
ward past Scalpsie and Lubas and Barr, then
inland to the little chapel of St. Blane’s. And
ever at his heels hobbled Elspeth Blackfell.

When Earl Roderic had entered the holy
place to open his heart in confession to the
abbot, Elspeth waited on the headland above
the bay of Dunagoil. In that bay there was
a ship, and the shipmen were unloading her of
a cargo of English salt and other commodities
of the far south. Presently the old woman went
downward to the beach, and there held speech
with the shipmaster, who, as it chanced, being
a man of Wales, could make shift to understand
the Gaelic tongue, and from him she learned
that the ship was to leave at the ebb tide for
England.

Now Elspeth had seen young Ailsa Redmain
as the girl was passing to her father’s castle, and
Ailsa had told her how the wicked lord of
Gigha had been made an outlaw. So Elspeth
questioned the shipmaster, asking him if he
would be free to carry this man away from Bute.

“My good dame,” said the mariner, “that
THE SWORD OF SOMERLED. 95

will I most gladly do, for your holy bishop or
abbot, or whatever he be, hath already paid me
the sum of four golden pieces in agreeing that
I shall do this thing—though for the matter of
that, this man is a king in his own land, and me-
thinks the honour were ample payment without
the gold; so if the winds permit, and we meet
no rascally pirates by the way, I make no doubt
that ere the next new moon we shall be snug
and safe against the walls of our good city of
Chester.”

So ere the curtain of night had fallen over the
Arran hills the outlawed earl of Gigha had left
behind him the little isle of Bute, and it was
thereafter told how he had in secret confessed
his manifold sins to the abbot of St. Blane’s, and
how in deep contrition he had solemnly sworn
at the altar to make forthwith the pilgrimage of
penance to the Holy Land, there to spend the
three years of his exile in the service of the
Cross.

CHAPTER XI

THE SWORD OF SOMERLED.

OW when Kenric, following sadly behind
the body of his brother, came within sight
of the castle of Rothesay his heart sank heavy
96 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

with the woe that was upon him. He thought
of how his mother had pressed upon Alpin the
charge of vengeance, and of how that charge had
ended. He would far rather have given up his
own life than face his mother and tell her the
terrible tale of how the man whom Alpin had
sworn to slay had himself slain Alpin. And he
was sorrowful beyond measure.

They bore the body of their dead young king
into the great hall, and laid him on a bier beside
the body of his father, the good Earl Hamish,
and the curtains were drawn and many candles
and torches were lighted and set round the two
biers, while two of the friars of St. Blane’s knelt
there in solemn prayer.

Then Kenric went to the door of his mother’s
chamber and knocked, and old Janet, a retainer
of many years, came out to him.

« Alas!” said she, “my lady your mother is
passing ill, and she hath spoken never a word
these many hours. We have sent forth a
messenger to Elspeth Blackfell, who is skilled
beyond all in Bute for her craft in simples. But
Elspeth was abroad, and the messenger returned
without her.” ;

“Then will I go myself and find her,” said
Kenric. So he went down into the courtyard
and called his favourite hound Fingall, that he
might have companionship in his quest. But
THE SWORD OF SOMERLED. 97

the dog gave no answer to his call, and search-
ing for it he found the animal lying moaning in
a corner of the yard and writhing as in pain.

“The dog well knows that our master, Earl
Hamish, is dead,” said one of the servitors.
“ Grief is killing him.”

“Not so,” said Kenric. “The dog is ill.
What manner of food has he eaten ?”

‘““Naught save the few scraps of venison that
my lady left upon her plate after the feast,” said
the servitor.

“ Methinks, then,” said Kenric, “that I must
even goalone, But see you that my poor friend
is well tended, for even though he be but a
dumb hound, he is a true and a faithful one, and
I would not that he should die.”

Now, as he walked over the hill of Barone,
Kenric thought upon this strange illness that
had befallen his dog; and suddenly, as though
a light had flashed into his mind, he remembered
how Alpin had told him of the feast, and of how
Earl Roderic, sitting at my lady’s side, had cut
up her venison for her; and also of how my
lady, ere she had eaten but a few pieces of the
venison, had left the board. It was the same
plateful of venison that the dog had eaten, and
now both the Lady Adela and the dog were
ill.

Then Kenric saw clearly that this was but
(746) G
98 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

another of the base schemes of his treacherous
uncle, who, not yet certain by what means he
should compass the death of Earl Hamish, had
taken this poisonous course to assure himself
that the Lady Adela should be ill on that night,
and powerless to interfere in the crime that was
in his mind.

“Oh, devil’s messenger, or devil himself that
thou art!” he cried. “Cursed be the hour that
brought you in our midst, Roderic MacAlpin.
You have slain my father, you have slain my
brother; my dear mother is now by your cruel
hand laid helpless on her couch. But by my
father’s soul and by my mother’s blessing, I
swear that you shall die. By my hand and
none other you shall perish! Oh, God in mercy
give me strength—give me power to kill this
man of blood!”

Then at high speed he ran down the hillside,
and the grouse birds lying low in the heather
rose with startled cries and flew off to the further
heights, uttering sounds as of mocking laughter.

Between Loch Dhu and Kilmory, as he
crossed towards the marshes, a flock of lapwings
rose in alarm, and Kenric knew by their cries
that some other than himself was near. He
turned his course, thinking that old Elspeth
might be there, passing homeward from the peat-
casting.
THE SWORD OF SOMERLED. 99

Beside the rock where, three hours before,
Earl Roderic had stood, he found Lulach the
herd-boy, and on the height of the rock sat
Aasta twining a wreath of daisies in her blood-
red hair. When they saw Kenric they both
stepped forward, and together they threw them-
selves upon the ground before him, pressing his
coarse garments to their lips.

“Give you good day, my lord the king,” they
both said.

Thus did it chance that these two humble
thralls, Lulach and Aasta, were. the first of all
the dwellers in Bute to hail Lord Kenric as their
king, and not till then did Kenric remember
that by the death of Alpin he was now indeed
the rightful lord of Bute, and he thought of the
prophecy of Elspeth Blackfell. Disturbed in
mind at the so early homage of Aasta and
Lulach, he bade them rise.

“For your courtesy I thank you,” he said.
“ But tell me, I pray you, where is Dame Elspeth
gone, and where may I find her? For my
mother, the Lady Adela, is passing ill.”

“The Lady Adela ill!” echoed Aasta. “Alas!
alas!”

“Elspeth has gone these two hours past
towards Dunagoil,” said Lulach. “So please
you, my lord, I will run after her and bid her
hasten to my lady’s aid.”
100 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

“Yes, Lulach, run, run like the wind!” cried
Aasta, and the lad ran off.

Kenric was about to follow him, when Aasta
drew him back.

“One will serve as well as two, my lord,”
said she, “and methinks it were better that
you sped back to Rothesay. Lulach will not
fail.”

“But I have yet another purpose, Aasta,”
said Kenric. “I would find the base villain,
Roderic of Gigha.”

“’Twas he whom Dame Elspeth followed,”
said the girl, “and he has gone to the abbey
of St. Blane’s, there to confess his sins.”

“ Alas!” said Kenric; “then if he has taken
sanctuary I am powerless to molest him, for
even though I would willingly lay him dead at
my feet, yet it were sacrilege to spill blood in
the precincts of the abbey.”

“ But you are weaponless, my lord.”

“T have my dirk,” said he, showing the
weapon in his belt.

“As well take a hazel wand as that poor
thing,” said she. “This man in his late contest
with your noble brother has slain a sprightlier
swordsman than yourself, Earl Kenric. Ah,
had I but known of his coming, this traitor had
not served our island as he has done! ’Tis
true, I might not have done aught to save the
THE SWORD OF SOMERLED. IOI

life of Earl Hamish your father, but had not yon
churl Duncan Graham failed me yesternight Earl
Alpin at least might have been spared.”

“Now, with what grim sorcery has Dame
Elspeth been bewitching you?” he exclaimed,
drawing back a pace.

Aasta’s fair cheeks and towering white neck
blushed crimson, and she looked down at the
grass about her feet.

“ Yesternight,” continued Kenric, “in passing
through the shadows of the forest I suddenly
encountered a wolf, and as I was about to draw
my bow, lo! the wolf disappeared, and in its
place it was you, Aasta, that I beheld,”

“Ah, it was you, then, that appeared?” said
Aasta. “Alas, my lord, I mistook you for one
of the Norsemen of Earl Roderic’s following,
and I fled.”

“Methinks it was a strange fancy that led
a maid into the dark forest at such an hour,”
said Kenric sternly. “What manner of witchery
led you there? But you spoke of Duncan
Graham, and now I mind me that he too would
have gone forth to the Rock of Solitude had I
not warned him against so bold an adventure.”

“My lord,” said Aasta, growing very red,
“there is no man in all your castle more faithful
than Duncan, and I trust that you will deem
him no less true when you know that twice ere
102 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

yesternight he has held tryst with me. It was
his purpose, had not these misfortunes befallen
your house, to have sued with my lord your
father that I might be freed from the bondage
of my thraldom, and if that boon had been
denied him, he would even have purchased my
liberty, that I might thus have been more worthy
to become his wedded wife.”

“ Aasta,” said Kenric, “1 sought not to draw
these secrets from your heart. And if it be that
Duncan loves you and would have you to wife,
then, believe me, it is not long that you shall
remain in thraldom.”

“God give you thanks, my lord the king,”
said Aasta softly. And as the morning dew-
drop shines upon the harebell, so shone the tears
of gratitude that filled her deep blue eyes. At
that moment as she turned away the cry of the
cuckoo was heard from the woods, and the girl
kissed her hand and said in the Danish, “Cuckoo,
cuckoo, when shall I be married?”

But the bird answered not at all, and Aasta
grew very sad.

Kenric, leaving her behind, then wended his
way back towards Rothesay. But not far had
he gone into the wood when he found that the
girl was following him.

“My lord,” said she, coming to his side and
walking near him, “when yesterday I heard that
THE SWORD OF SOMERLED. 103

these three strange men had come to Bute, and
Elspeth told me what manner of wicked men
they were, now is the time, I thought, when the
mighty sword of king Somerled must be un-
earthed, for most surely will that sword be
needed. And methought I would send that
sword by the hands of Duncan Graham. But
Duncan came not to the tryst. And now that
Earl Alpin is slain—now that, as it seems, my
lord, you have resolved to bring this false traitor
of Gigha to his merited death, methinks it is
you who should bear that sword, that by its aid
you may fulfil your vengeance.”

Kenric looked at the maiden in blank surprise,
and he thought that either there was something
strange and mysterious in her nature or that her
mind was wandering.

“The name of my great ancestor, king
Somerled, God rest him! is indeed as well
known to me as my own,” said he; “but of this
sword of which you speak I have heard nothing.
Truly, I know not what you mean, Aasta.”

They were now passing through the pine
forest, where athwart the ta!l trunks of the trees
slanted the rays of the evening sun, and there
was no sound but the cooing of the wood-
pigeons and the crackling of the dry twigs and
cones as Kenric and Aasta stepped upon the
velvet turf.
104. THE THIRSTY SWORD.

“Long, long ago,” said Aasta, “as Elspeth
has ofttimes told me, there lived in Norway a
great and ambitious king named Harald Fair-
hair, who, for the love of a proud maiden, put
the whole of Norway under his feet; and being
lord over that great country by right of conquest
he laid claim to every man’s odal, or lands, in
such wise that his realm was no longer a place
in which a free-born man could live. So many
men of that land took ship and went forth upon
the seas to seek other homes, and they came to
the land of the Scots. They were adventurous
and valiant men, who took to conquest and sea-
roving as a cygnet takes to the water. Now
these vikings were soon such a thorn in the side
of King Harald, that he resolved to quell the
evil by following his old enemies to their new
abodes and hunting them across the western
main, and he passed down among the Western
Isles, and harried and wasted those lands farther
than any Norwegian monarch before him or
after him. So it befell that the Western Isles,
that had belonged to the Scots, were peopled
and ruled over by the Norsemen.”

Kenric listened to the girl’s soft voice as it
rippled in sweet music, but he heeded little this
oft-told tale.

‘“ Now there arose a great man in Argyll, who
was mightier than any of the Scots that had so
THE SWORD OF SOMERLED. 105

lightly allowed their lands to be torn away from
them, and this was king Somerled. He waged
war against the Norsemen of the Western Isles,
and he made conquest of Bute, Arran, and
Gigha, with the Cumbraes and other smaller isles
that still remain in the hands of the Scots, for
he was a most powerful warrior, and it was said
that no man ever crossed swords with him but
to be slain. His enemies fell before him like
ripe grain in the swath of the mower’s sickle.
And his sword—”

“Yes, his sword?” said Kenric, growing in-
terested now.

“ His sword had drunk so often and so fully
of men’s blood, that it seemed to take new life
into itself out of the hearts of all who fell before
its sway, and men named it the Thirsty Sword,
for it is never satisfied. It was said beforetime
that if a sword be the death of five score of men,
it comes to be possessed of a lust for slaying.
But the sword of Somerled had drunk the life’s
blood of twice five score of men, and none might
take it in his grasp and lay it down again ere it
had killed a man.”

“Such a weapon were surely a great danger
in the land, Aasta,” said Kenric. “I would not
willingly touch it if any but my enemies were
near. But by reason of the desire for vengeance
that is now upon me, gladly would I know
106 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

where that sword is to be found, that it may
be ready when the time comes to drink the
blood of the falsest heart that ever beat, and
that is the heart of Earl Roderic of Gigha.”

“Then, methinks it will not be long ere you
have that weapon in your hand, my lord,” said
Aasta, quickening her steps. “For it befell
that I had a dream vision, and I saw where long
ago the men of Bute had buried the sword,
swathed in sheep-skins that the blade might not
be eaten by rust. So I unearthed it, and hid it
under the Rock of Solitude, where we shall now
find it.”

Kenric and Aasta went onward through the
forest glades, and when they came to the rock
Aasta put her white arm into a deep cavity, and
drew forth a bundle of sheep-skins. Unwrapping
them she revealed the glittering weapon. With
her two hands she clasped its hilt, and raised the
Thirsty Sword above the crown of daisies that
was upon her hair.

Kenric drew back, for he was yet afraid of
this strange witch-maiden, whose fairness and
beauty were regarded by the men of Bute as
betokening the spell of her subtle sorcery. But
seeing him recoil, Aasta lowered the weapon and
smiled, showing her pearl-white teeth.

“ He who would wield this weapon, my lord,”
said she, “must strip his heart of all fear and




AASTA REVEALS ‘‘THE THIRSTY SWORD.”
THE SWORD OF SOMERLED. 107

trembling. Take you the sword in hand, and
I will stand before you while you try your
power with it. Not hard will it be to wield it,
for it was forged by the hand of Munifican, and
so well balanced is it, and so easy to grip, that
a youth of half your strength, my lord, might
swing it for many hours and not be weary.”

Then Kenric took the sword in his hard grip,
and holding it out at arm’s-length he saw that
its point was but a span’s distance from Aasta’s
breast. He bade the girl stand still. Aasta
stood like a pillar of stone before him, with the
sunlight upon her red-gold hair; nor did she stir
a finger or blink an eyelash as young Kenric,
firm on his feet, flung back his arms and swung
the terrible weapon once, twice, thrice, to right
and left in front of her. Seeing the maiden’s
fearless courage, “ Now do [ in sooth believe,”
said he, “that you are in very deed a witch,
Aasta. But what you have said of this sword
is, methinks, nothing less than true; and, if you
will it so, then will I take it, so that I may now
confront this villain Earl Roderic, and slay him
for my revenge.”

“God be your guard! my lord the king,” said
Aasta, “and may you never use that sword
without just cause.” And so saying she went
her ways.

Now, when Kenric, armed with the Thirsty
108 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

Sword, and with his heart full of bitter vengeance,
came upon the rocky heights of Dunagoil, and
held discourse with one of his friends, a friar of
St. Blane’s, he learned that his enemy had al-
ready quitted the island, and was now aboard
the English ship on the first stage of his pilgrim-
age to the Holy Land. Not till then did Kenric
remember his sick mother, or think of how he
had set out to summon Elspeth Blackfell to the
castle. He blamed himself beyond measure in
that he had allowed his vengeful thoughts to so
lead him away from his higher duty.

But as it happened, Lulach had served him
well. When Kenric got back to Rothesay he
found Elspeth already busy in her work of
nursing his mother back to health. So skilful
was the old woman in this, that in the space of
two days the Lady Adela was fully restored,
and able to hear the sad news of how her -
favourite son had fallen under Roderic’s sword.

Of the burial of Hamish and Alpin, and of
the solemn rites attending that ceremony, there
is no need to tell. Noble and true were they
both, and well-beloved for their worthiness. But
they are dead, and so, as the old scalds would
say, have passed out of the story.
KENRIC IS MADE KING. 109

CHAPTER XII.
HOW KENRIC WAS MADE KING,

N aday in June, Ailsa Redmain, well arrayed,
went forth from Kilmory riding behind
her father, Sir Oscar, on his sturdy horse. Beside
them walked her brother Allan, with a long
staff in his hand, a plaid over his broad shoulder,
and a tall feather in his bonnet. It was one of
the calmest of summer days. The warm sweet
smell of the whin-bloom was in the air. The
lark sang merrily in the clear sky, and across the
smooth, glassy surface of Ascog loch the herons
flew with heavy, indolent wings.

Seeing a pair of these birds flying near, Sir
Oscar turned to his son.

“Were we not otherwise employed,” said he,
“this were a glorious day, Allan, on which to fly
our young hawks at these herons. The birds
will lose their cunning if they be not better exer-
cised. Know you if poor Alpin had set aside a
pair of gerfalcons for his Majesty’s tribute?”

‘Tis but seven days ago that we were out
together, Alpin and I,” said Allan, “and never
saw | a better trained pair of hawks than those
that are now in keeping at Rothesay against the
time when the tribute must be paid. We took
seven birds that rose from the heronry of Barone.
I1o THE THIRSTY SWORD.

Alas! had Alpin but lived I had hoped to accom-
pany him into Scotland that I might see King
Alexander. But ’tis ever so with me. Never
yet have I been able to make that journey.”

“But,” said Ailsa, “when Kenric has been
throned, will not he also need to pay yearly
homage to the King of Scots, even as his father
was wont to do?”

“Assuredly,” said Sir Oscar. “The king of
Bute is so bound by his vassalage, and it were
a sorry day for him if he should fail to observe
the usages which custom has ordained. So soon
as Kenric can do so, he will take his tribute of
falcons to King Alexander, and Allan might
even accompany him.”

“ But are there no falcons in Scotland, father?”
asked Ailsa.

“Plenty there are, my child. ‘Tis but the
form of tribute, showing that the lord of Bute
acknowledges his vassalage. In like manner,
the lord of Arran delivers each year two dead
eagles, and the lord of Islay a roll of homespun
cloth. So may his Majesty know that his sub-
jects remain true to him.”

“Ah, heard you those lusty shouts?” broke in
Ailsa, as the hum of many voices reached their
ears. “’Tis surely the young king that they are
hailing. Spur on the horse, for I would not
willingly miss the sight of his arrival.”
HOW KENRIC WAS MADE KING. III

“’Tis but some wrestler thrown,” said her
father. ‘We shall be at the Stone of Destiny
long ere Kenric leaves his castle gates.”

Nevertheless, he urged on the horse, and soon
they were in the midst of the vast crowd of
islanders who had assembled on the great plain
to elect their new king.

Sir Oscar, dismounting, took his place by the
throne, and when the court was duly fenced and
the ruthmen had taken their places, each at his
particular stone, the islanders crowded round in
a circle that all might see. Ailsa and Allan were
behind their father, and near them were Lulach
and Aasta the Fair, with Elspeth Blackfell and
many hillmen and dalesmen, with their women.
And nearest to the fence-cord, so that their
elders could see above their curly heads, were
the little children of Bute, who had been brought
from far and near, to the end that when they
were old and gray-headed they might have it to
say, “When J was a child, so high, my mother
carried me to Loch Ascog side, and there I saw
young Kenric made king of Bute, and it was the
lordliest sight that ever was seen in the island;
for Kenric was a true-born king, and the wisest
and noblest of all our rulers, and all who saw
him on that great day foretold that it would be
so.”

Not long had the people waited when they
I12 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

saw a stately company of men-at-arms advancing,
and at their head rode Kenric, mounted ona
white charger. Not now did he appear in the
lowly garments of deer-skin or with ill-strung
buskins or tangled hair. He wore a helm of
burnished brass, crested with a pair of golden
wings; his well-combed brown hair fluttered in
the breeze. Thrown over his shoulder, and
half concealing his bright shirt of scale mail, was
a plaid of silk. There were silver buckles on
his tanned shoes, and below his bare knees his
legs were swathed in fine lawn, cross-gartered
with red silk bands.

A great cheer rose in the calm air and echoed
and re-echoed far away among the crags of
Loch Striven as Kenric sprang lightly from his
steed. The crowd opened a place for him, cry-
ing “All hail to Kenric!” and he took his stand
in their midst at the eastern side of the court.
No farther did he venture, but stood there with
bent head and sober, sunburnt face, resting his
left hand upon his sword.

Then when the abbot had spoken a few holy
words, Sir Oscar Redmain raised his voice and
told what they had all come for to that place,
and he asked the counsellors to name the man
whom they would choose for their lord.

“ Kenric, son of Hamish!” they all cried.

Kenric then stepped forward as though he
HOW KENRIC WAS MADE KING. 113

were unwilling thus to be made ruler over the
people of Bute, for the high honour had come
suddenly upon him and he had never dreamed
of being king, but only a faithful priest of St.
Blane’s, serving the Lord and His people.

Sir Oscar met him at the foot of the throne,
and took from him his great sword and his
dirk.

Then Kenric turned and faced the people, and
spoke to them in a loud, clear voice.

“Men of Bute,” said he, “much do I tremble
at this great and solemn duty that you have
thrust upon me. I am but a stripling, fitted
better to play upon the hills in boyish sport than
to rule over men who are my elders. If it be
that I am indeed to be your king, then do I
deem your choice made only because I am my
dear father’s son, and not that I have any virtue
or prowess that would befit me for that high
office. And now I ask you, men of Bute,
whether you have ever found any fault with the
manner in which the late king, Earl Hamish,
ruled this land and whether you know of any-
thing deserving blame in myself, that should
unfit me to be your lord and king ?”

They replied as with the voice of one man
that they knew no fault of any kind.

Then standing upon the Stone of Destiny,

Kenric took from the steward a straight white
(746) H
TI4 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

wand, and the abbot and three friars anointed
him king. At the same time old Dovenald,
clothed in a scarlet robe, advanced from the
crowd, and bending low before the throne re-
peated the catalogue of Kenric’s ancestors.

When these ceremonies were over, the young
king swore upon his sword that he would con-
tinue his vassals in the possession of their lands
and defend their rights with his own life, and
do exact justice to all his subjects.

“ And now,’ said he, “if there be any amongst
you whowould dispute my kingship, let him stand
forward and I will prove myself with the sword.”
And he threw down his gauntlet from his girdle.

No man stood forth. But an aged woman
who was of the crowd let down from her arms a
little child, and the child toddled forward and
picked up the glove and handed it to the king.
Kenric, bending his strong back, took up the
child in his arms and kissing its two rosy cheeks,
raised the little one on his shoulder, and carried
it back to its grandam.

Then as he did so, many mothers held up their
children that these too might share the honour
he had done the first. So Kenric went round
bestowing his kisses and his blessings upon the
innocents. And the fathers and mothers thought
well of their young king for this that he did, for
it showed them that he had a tender and loving
THE “WHITE LADY” OF THE MOUNTAIN. I15

heart. Then they cheered him yet again, until
their lusty voices grew hoarse.

At length, when all was done, the people went
peacefully to their homesteads, talking of what
they had just seen, yet little thinking how soon
the time would arrive when they should owe the
lives of their innocent children to the wisdom
and bravery of this boy king.

CHAPTER XIII.
THE “WHITE LADY” OF THE MOUNTAIN.

N the second morning after his throning,
Kenric, assuming again his clothes of deer-
skin, walked over to Kilmory Castle, and there
held counsel with his steward concerning the
way in which he was to pay tribute to his over-
lord the King of Scots. As a newly-elected
king it was necessary for him to offer homage
to King Alexander in person. But he did not
yet know in which of the royal castles his Ma-
jesty might be found, and he had need to cross
over to Arran to make inquiries of Sir Piers de
Currie, who, as he knew, had lately had audience
with the King.
Sir Oscar Redmain, in giving him his instruc-
116 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

tions, asked him if his son Allan might accom-
pany him to Scotland.

“ There is no youth in all Bute whom I would
rather take with me,” said Kenric, “for I have
now no comrade of my own years since my
brother Alpin is no longer alive; and methinks
that Allan might well become to me the true
friend that he ever was to Alpin. If he will
come with me even now I will take him across
to Castle Ranza, and we may then speak of our
approaching journey.”

Allan was then out in the fields, but he was
soon found, and the two lads, armed with bows
and dirks, went together down to the bay of St.
Ninian’s. Four fishermen there launched a boat
for them, and rowing out under the little island
of Inch Marnock, they then hoisted sail and sped
across the Sound of Bute with a fresh western
wind.

Not long were they in crossing the channel
between Bute and Arran, and at the north-west
of the latter island they steered round into the
beautiful and quiet Loch Ranza. At the head
of this inlet of the sea, and standing out upon a
narrow neck of land commanding the bay, was
Sir Piers de Currie’s castle. Like many of the
smaller fortresses of that time, the castle of
Ranza was built, not of stone, but of heavy oak
timbers of double walls that were filled in be-
THE “WHITE LADY” OF THE MOUNTAIN. I17

tween with stones and turf, and so wondrously
strong and thick that fire alone might destroy it.

Landing at a little stone pier, Kenric and
Allan went up to the castle front. Allan blew
his hunting-horn. The guard ordered the draw-
bridge to be lowered, and the two lads entered.
They were met at the inner gates by the Lady
Grace de Currie and her five young boys and
girls, who accompanied them into the great
drinking hall. Then as they were taking the
hospitality that was offered them, Kenric told of
how the three island kings had come to Bute,
and how his father and Alpin had been slain.
Much concerned was the lady of Ranza at all
this—for she had heard but a fisherman’s account
of what had befallen the house of Rothesay—
and more than all was she grieved ‘at the late
illness of her dear friend the Lady Adela.

“So now,” said Kenric when he had modestly
spoken of his kingship, “I would see your hus-
band, for, as I hear, he has newly been to Scot-
land, and can tell me where I may meet King
Alexander.”

“Sir. Piers,” said she smiling, “went forth at
sunrise with his men, and is even now upon the
mountains in search of sport. I fear he will not
. be back ere morning, for you know his habit of
wandering for days together among the hills.
so [ beg you, my lord WKenric—and you also,
118 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

Allan—rest you here in our castle until Sir Piers
returns.”

“Yes, Kenric, stay, and I will show you my
new bow, and you shall see how well I can now
aim,” said little Fergus (the same who in the
aftertime fought so valiantly at Bannockburn).

“No,” said Kenric, “I cannot stay, for on the
morrow I must even be back in Bute to take
my seat at the assize that has been called, and
I would not willingly neglect the first duty that
has fallen to me.”

“Why, then,” said Allan Redmain, “let us
both to the mountains, my lord. There is no
pass or crag in the north of Arran that my foot
has not trod, and it will go hard if we find not
Sir Piers in a few hours’ time.”

Thereupon Kenric and Allan, leaving their
four men at the castle, walked round by the
shore-side to Glen Catacol, and through a gloomy
pass that led far up into the craggy mountains,
where the eagle reigned on high and the red
deer ran wild and free.

Now Allan Redmain was a most venturesome
youth. He was taller by a head than Kenric,
strong of limb and sure-footed as a mountain
goat. Heedless of the danger into which he
was taking his king, he led the way into the
wildest fastnesses of Ben Bharrain, by paths that
even the hunted stag might fear to tread.
THE “WHITE LADY” OF THE MOUNTAIN. 119

In vain did they search for any sign that
would bring them to Sir Piers de Currie and his
band of hunters. No sound of rallying horn,
no voice of man reached their ears, but only
the drumming cry of the wild grouse or the
short sharp bark of the fox; and when, after
much scraping of bare knees, they scaled the
steep mountain’s peak and stood upon the lofty
height, where the heather grew crisp and short,
they sat down and let the cool wind blow against
their flushed faces. Then with keen eyes they
scanned each crag and fell, searching in gully
and glen, in hollow and onheight. But though
they saw many herds of deer, yet of huntsmen
they saw no sign.

“ Methinks, Allan,” said Kenric, “that ’tis but
a foolish thing we have done to come on this
fruitless journey. One might wander for a week
upon these barren wastes and yet never encounter
those whom we seek. Better had we remained
in Castle Ranza. What say you to our return-
ing?”

“Could we but get a shot at a good stag,” said
Allan, “our journey might yet be well repaid.”

“And wherefore kill a stag, if we must needs
leave his carcase for the carrion crows? If ’tis
practice with your bow you want, why, have we
not that in abundance on our own Island?”

“Ah, but to be up here as it were among the
120 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

very clouds!” said Allan. “Beats not your heart
with quicker joy, Kenric, when you breathe the
keen mountain air—when your eyes rest upon .
so vast a stretch of sea and land as we now
behold? I know no pleasure so sweet as this.”

“Methinks,” said Kenric, “that were Sir Piers
de Currie here, and I had fulfilled my purpose in
crossing to Arran, then this joy you speak ot
were not greater than my own. But when I go
out hunting, Allan, I like to hunt; when I come
over to ask a question of our neighbour, it is
not to my humour to be thus stranded upon a
hill-top. So now, if it please you, we will return
to Ranza.”

“Nay, I go not from these mountains ere |
have once drawn the bow,” said Allan. “’Tis a
chance that I do not have too often; and now
that we are so far I would go to yonder gully
where but a while ago we saw that vast herd ot
deer enter. Come.”

“Methinks, Allan Redmain,” said Kenric,
“that ‘tis you who have come with me to Arran,
not I with you, and I beg you to at once return
with me.”

Allan was about to turn round upon Kenric
with an angry word, when suddenly he minded
that the lad was his lord and king.

“Oh, my lord, my lord!” he cried, “ pardon
me—I beg you pardon me, for in truth I had

ce
THE “WHITE LADY” OF THE MOUNTAIN. I21

forgotten your kingship. It was wrong in me
thus to oppose my will to yours.”

“Nay, Allan, believe me, I would not have
you thus regard me at all times as your master,
but rather as your friend. Nevertheless, if my
office is to be remembered, then methinks it is
well that we should search for Sir Piers, and not
think of hunting after stags. Now take me back
to Castle Ranza by the nearest way.”

Allan then turned and led the way across the
eastern shoulder of the mountain and down a
wild ravine towards Glen Catacol. In the bed
of the ravine there coursed a turbulent torrent,
swollen by the rains of the night before. They
walked along a narrow goat-track from which
the rocky ground sloped sharply downward into
the stream. From beyond a turning in this path
they heard the swelling roar of a waterfall.
Scarce had they made this turning, when, above
the noise of the cataract, they heard the yelping
of adeer-hound. Kenric was now in advance of
his companion, and they were just above the
point where the waterfall turned over into a
deep chasm.

“A stag! a stag!” cried Kenric as he promptly
took an arrow and fixed it to his bow-string.

Allan followed his example. Kenric knelt
down on one knee and levelled his arrow. Allan
made ready to shoot over Kenric’s shoulder. A
122 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

noble stag, with wide-spreading antlers of twelve
points, seemed almost to be flying towards them
along the narrow path. An arrow was half-
buried in his bleeding flank; a pair of shaggy
deer-hounds were behind in mad pursuit.

“ Now!” cried Kenric.

The bow-strings twanged, and the two arrows
speeding in their deadly flight plunged side by
side into the stag’s broad chest. The noble
animal stumbled, regained his footing, and ran
on. Nearer and nearer he came, panting, moan-
ing, glaring with wild and frightened eyes. To
his right was a steep wall of rock, to his left a
fall of thirty feet into the surging waters below
the cataract. At his heels were the dogs, in
front of him the two youths ready with an-
other charge of arrows. There was no way of
escape.

“ Lie down, my lord!—quick, lie down!” cried
Allan, firing his dart. The arrow rattled upon
the stag’s antlers. The stag bounded forward
with one of the hounds upon his back, then
stumbled upon his knees. Kenric rose and ran
to dirk him ere he should have time to regain
his feet.

“Come back, come back!” shouted Allan.

But Kenric, little heeding the danger, or not
hearing the cry of warning amid the roaring of
the water, was about to draw his dirk, when the

|?
THE “WHITE LADY” OF THE MOUNTAIN. 123

stag fell over with the weight of the second
hound. One of his antler-points caught in the
string of Kenric’s bow.

Then Allan Redmain saw a sight that filled
him with dismay. Kenric, still holding his bow
that was entangled in the stag’s horns, lost his
footing; the stag rolled over; and Kenric fell,
with his legs astride of the animal's belly. Then
all four—Kenric, the stag, and the two dogs—
struggling each with his own purpose, slipped
swiftly down the sloping precipice, and plunged
into the deep and surging linn below the foam-
ing waterfall.

Allan Redmain, alone now upon that narrow
path, uttered a loud cry as he saw his young
master disappear through the mist of spray that
rose from below the cataract. Well did he
know that even if Earl Kenric had not been
killed, he yet was unable to swim. Thoughts
more dreadful than he had ever known coursed
through Allan’s mind at that moment. Kenric
the young king, the only hope of Bute, killed?
and he, Allan Redmain, had not saved him!

He looked around for help. In that desolate
place what help could he expect? But he tarried
not long to think of how he should act. At the
risk of his own life he was bound to do what he
could. Grasping his long-bow in his two hands
and using it as a skid, and digging his heels
124 THE THIRSTY ‘SWORD.

firmly into the stony ground of the sloping pre-
cipice, he went down foot by foot, now swaying
this way and now that as the loose stones slipped
before his feet. Down, down he went until he
came at last to the level top of a steep rock
that stood over the brink of the deep linn.

In the eddying water that swirled and boiled
as in a cauldron at the base of the cataract he
saw one of the stag-hounds struggling, trying
vainly to keep its head above the surface; but
nowhere Kenric, nowhere even the stag. He
lay down upon the rock and drew himself to its
edge that he might look below into the water
at its base. But the water rushed past in bub-
bling sweep, and yet there was no sign.

Then, still in hope that he might yet find the
young king, he rose to his feet and threw himself
headlong into the linn. Deep, deep he sank, and
the strong undercurrent tossed about him, seized
him in its fearful grip, and swept him downward
in its course. Rising to the surface he tried with
all his strength to swim against the current to
the spot where Kenric had fallen in. Not long
had he thus endeavoured when his strength
failed him. He felt himself being drawn under.
It came to be a matter of saving his own life now
—saving it that he might live to carry the sad
news home to Rothesay. So he turned round
with the stream and swam towards a great
THE “WHITE LADY” OF THE MOUNTAIN. 125

flat rock in mid-current. As he neared it a
strange sight met his eyes.

On the rock was the dead stag. A stream
of crimson blood trickled down from its broad
chest, staining the white rock. Sitting upon the
stag, with folded arms and dripping hair, and
eyes fixed in dreamy admiration upon the tumb-
ling waters of the White Lady Falls, was Kenric
the king. The great cataract curled over the
topmost rocks in a smooth brown volume, turned
into pure white foam as it fell and bounded
with roaring noise into the deep chasm below.
A cloud of spray rose from the depths, and
where the sunbeams crossed it there was a beau-
tiful are of light showing all the colours of the
rainbow. Kenric seemed to be lost in contem-
plation of the wild scene.

Suddenly he turned his head and looked up
the frowning hillside. Above the noise of the
falling water he had heard his name called. He
stood up, and holding on with one hand to the
stag’s spreading antler, with the other he shaded
his eyes and searched for a sign of Allan Red-
main. The goat-track was hidden from his
view; but at the spot where he had first seen
the stag running he now saw a party of five
men, who, with their leader, Sir Piers de Currie,
were following the trail of the wounded ani-
mal,
126 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

Kenric then knelt against the dead stag, and,
thrusting his fingers into his mouth, gave a
shrill whistle.

At that moment Allan Redmain clambered
upon the rock at his side, emptied his horn of
the water that was in it, and blew as lusty a
blast as his enfeebled breath could send forth.

Kenric started back at the sound like one
who had seen a ghost, for he had known nothing
of Allan’s movements until this moment. But
now he quickly understood what his friend had
done for his sake, and he put his hand upon
Allan’s shoulder lovingly.

Within a little while the two lads were rescued
from their perilous situation. With the help of
the ropes that the men of Ranza had brought to
bind the deer upon their ponies’ backs, first
Kenric, then the dead stag, and lastly Allan
Redmain, were taken off the rock. The two
hounds were, however, lost.

Saving for a few bruises and scratches, neither
Kenric nor Allan had received much hurt. But
this accident, which might have proved so dis-
astrous to the isle of Bute, bound the Earl
Kenric and Allan Redmain together in a close
fellowship, which lasted until they were both
gray-haired old men.
IN SOLEMN ASSIZE. 127

CHAPTER XIV.
IN SOLEMN ASSIZE.

N the day that followed that of his adven-
ture among the Arran mountains, Kenric
went to the seat of judgment at Ascog, there in
solemn assize to administer the laws of his do-
minions. The men of Bute were peaceful, and
the offences and charges that were brought for-
ward on that day were of no great gravity.

On taking his seat before the twelve wise
men, he opened the assize and called for the
first charge, whereupon an odaller from one of
the farmsteads of Ardbeg accused one of the
islanders of having made theft of a young steer.
Kenric asked whether the thief had driven the
young ox away or carried it, and explained that
the stealing of such prey as required to be driven
was a higher offence than if it were carried off.
A witness then proved that the thief, being a
strong man, had bound the steer’s legs with
thongs and thrown the animal over his shoulder,
and so made off with it. And being proved
guilty, he was made to pay a fine of twenty
pence.

Then there came another who charged his
enemy with having hunted hares and wild-fowl
on lands that were not his own. But the accused
128 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

man was held guiltless, for, said the young
judge, they had there no tyrannous forest laws,
and every man was free to hunt wheresoever he
wished, and to take what game he might. And
again, a fisherman was accused of having charged
two pennies for a basket of fish worth only half
that sum; and Kenric said that the fisherman
was poor and hard-working, and that he who
bought the fish was over-greedy, and the case
was dismissed. Next a poor cattleman of Kin-
garth came forward, showing a knife-wound in
his arm, and saying that another had stabbed
him and also struck him in the mouth, knocking
out a tooth; and Kenric ordered that the man’s
wound should be measured with a rule, and it
was three inches in length and a half inch in
breadth. Then for the length of the wound a
fine of twenty-four pence was imposed upon the
wrong-doer, for its breadth six pennies, and for
the tooth twelve other pennies.

Then Kenric asked if there were any further
matters to be judged.

“Yes, my lord,” said Duncan Graham, enter-
ing the circle of the court. “There is a boon
that I your servant would humbly ask.”

“And what boon is that?” asked Kenric,
already guessing what it might be.

“Tt is,” said Duncan, standing to his full height
and growing very red—“ It is that there lives
IN SOLEMN ASSIZE, I29

with Elspeth Blackfell, over at Kilmory, one
whom men name Aasta the Fair, and she is a
thrall. The boon I ask is that you will in your
mercy remove from her the yoke of bondage,
for she is a passing worthy maid, and it is no
fault of hers, but only her misfortune that she
- is a thrall; and, so please you, my lord, I love
her well, and would make her my lawful wife,
for a freeman may not wed a bondmaid and
claim her as his own.”

“Show me this maiden, that I may speak
with her,” said Kenric. And Aasta stood forth,
looking very beautiful in a robe of white, and
with her eyes downcast, and her hands clasped
before her.

“Tell me your name and history,” said the

young king.
“My name, my lord, is Aasta, and nothing
else,” said she. “I am a thrall to Sir Oscar

Redmain, who claimed me as his bondmaid
when I was but a little child, for it was upon
his lands that I was found. Whence I came I
cannot tell; but men say that it was with the
wild north winds that I was brought to Bute,
from the regions of frost and snow. Of my
parentage I know naught, saving only that
Elspeth Blackfell has oft declared that my
parents were of noble station, and that they

dwelt in the land of the Norsemen.’
(746) I
130 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

“That you are of gentle blood I can well
believe,” said Kenric softly, as he regarded her
surpassing beauty. “ But do you then remember
nothing of your earliest life?”

“All that yet lingers in my mind, my lord, is
the memory of my mother,” said Aasta. “She
was wild and unruly as the winter storm, and
cruel as an angry wolf.”

“And your father?”

“He was a viking, who, though he loved me
passing well, was ever on the sea, roving and
fighting in his great ship.”

“Whosoever you be, Aasta, and whencesoever
you came,” said Kenric, “I now declare you to
be free of your bondage, For the space of a
year and a day you shall remain upon Sir Oscar
Redmain’s lands as his paid servant, but not as
his thrall, and at the end of that time the Abbot
of St. Blane’s shall give you in marriage to the
brave man who will then claim you, and you
shall be that man’s lawful wedded wife.”

Then, when Duncan Graham led the maid
away, Kenric asked if there yet remained any
man there present who had any claim to make,
or grievance to be redressed; at which David
Blair, a rich farmer of Scalpsie, called for judg-
ment upon one who had done him a wrong.

“What is your suit?” asked the king.

“Tt is,” said the farmer, “that, ten days since,
IN SOLEMN ASSIZE. 131

my watch-dog was cruelly slain. He was the
best watch-dog in all Bute, and never dared
beast of prey or man of stealth come near my
homestead but to his hurt. But, since my dog
has been slain, three gimmer sheep, and two ewe
lambs, and four young goats have been carried
off by the wolves. And my good wife Marjory
has lost seven of her best chickens, that have
been taken by the foxes.”

- “Who is the man that so cruelly slew yout
dog?” asked Kenric.

“Tt was young Allan Redmain of Kilmory,
and him do I charge,” said the farmer.

“ Allan Redmain!” exclaimed Kenric, in alarm
at the thought of sitting in judgment upon his
own friend. Then he stirred uneasily in his seat,
and bit his lips in trying to see a way of escape
out of his difficulty. He had sworn lasting
friendship for Allan, and remembering the ad-
venture of the day before, when Allan had risked
his life for him, he could not bear the thought
of giving sentence of punishment if it should be
proved that Allan was guilty. Thrown thus
betwixt friendship and duty, he sat for many
moments in silent thought, wishing that he was
no longer a king who had bound himself to do
justice to all men. But at last he called aloud
for Allan Redmain,and Allan promptly appeared,
albeit with lowered head and guilty looks.
[32 THE THIRSTY SWORD

“Now, David Blair,’ said Kenric withtremulous
voice, “repeat your accusation, and woe betide
you if in malice you say aught but the holy truth.”

“ My lord!” said the farmer in surprise. “Am
I then to be doubted? And is my word less to
be trusted than that of any other honest man of
Bute? I repeat that it was Allan Redmain who
slew my dog out of mere boyish sport.”

Allan looked at his accuser with frowning
brows.

“Allan Redmain, are you guilty or innocent
of this offence?” asked the young judge.

“In that I slew the dog, my lord, I am guilty,”
said Allan. “ But in that the act was not with-
out just cause, | am innocent. It was in the
hay-field of Scalpsie, where with a companion
I was walking. The dog ran up to us as
it were to attack us. My comrade shook his
fist at the dog, and thereupon it sprang at his
throat, and I took out my dirk and slew the
brute.”

“Brute, say you?” exclaimed the farmer.
“ My lord, the dog meant no manner of harm,
and it was a cruel thing to kill him so. I am
now without a watch-dog, and must I needs
suffer my sheep to be devoured by the wolves
because, forsooth, a hot-headed lad would use
his knife upon my poor dumb friend? I ask
for redress, and redress ] shall have.”
IN SOLEMN ASSIZE. 133

“Who was the comrade of whom you speak ?”
asked Kenric of Allan.

“T refuse to say, my lord,” said Allan firmly.

“Tt was your own brother Alpin who is dead,
my lord,” said David Blair.

“What! and you would have me punish one
who so defended my own brother?” cried Kenric.
“No, David Blair, I cannot do it.”

But at that the farmer protested warmly, and
declared that he would have justice done him,
and that it was his lord’s duty to deal fairly by
all men, notwithstanding that Allan Redmain
was the son of the steward. So there was
nothing for it but for Kenric to pronounce the
penalty.

“Tt is an old law, held sacred by custom,” he
falteringly said, “that if one slays another man’s
watch-dog, the slayer must himself protect for a
year and a day the unwatched homestead. And
he is accountable to the owner for any scathe
that may befall within that period after the slay-
ing of the dog. This, Allan Redmain, is the
penalty you must pay, and less than this it is
not in my power to impose, for law is law, and
I am but its instrument.”

Then after the assize was over, Allan went to
Kenric and asked him what was now to be done
concerning their projected journey into Scotland,
for that now he was condemned to act for twelve
134 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

long months as a miserable watch-dog, it was
no longer possible for him to leave the island,
and be absent for a night.

The same difficulty had already presented
itself to Kenric, who felt indeed that he would
rather have cut off his own hand than pass that
sentence upon his friend. He looked at Allan
with pleading eyes.

« Allan,” he said, “how can you forgive me
for this that I have done? And how can I now
help you out of this miserable dog’s work? Me-
thinks that on the cold frosty nights when you
are out there, minding this churlish farmer's
sheep, it will not be easily that I shall lie in my
warm bed. But how to help it, I do not know.
Haply the law was made for vagabond thieves
and cattle-lifters, but it still is law, and in my
place I could not well evade the judgment.”

“Think not that I blame you, my lord,” said
Allan cheerily. “I am not the steward’s son
without knowing somewhat of a judge’s difficul-
ties in punishing his own friends. But, alas! I
had set my heart upon being your attendant on
this journey of homage.”

“As to that,’ said Kenric, “you need not
concern yourself. I will not break my promise
to take you. As to Blair’s flocks and his good
wife’s chickens, we can send the lad Lulach to
watch them, and I warrant me they will be safe.
THE DOMINION OF THE WESTERN ISLES. 135

So come you over to Rothesay at the time of
the flood-tide two days hence, and we will then
set sail for Dumbarton.”

CHAPTER XV.
THE DOMINION OF THE WESTERN ISLES.

HEN Kenric met Sir Piers de Currie in

the wilds of the Arran mountains, and

spoke with that doughty knight of his need of

seeing the King of Scots, he learned to his satis-

faction that his expedition would not carry him

farther into the mainland than the castle of
Dumbarton.

“Tt chances well that you are to make this
journey so soon,” said Sir Piers, “ for, having
failed to see his Majesty on my late visit to the
palace of Scone, I heard that he was to come
westward to the Clyde in a few days’ time, and
if it so please you, we will go to Dumbarton
together.”

“T will make ready my best galley, then,” said
Kenric, “and await you in Rothesay.”

“ Agreed,” said the knight, “and it may be
also that his Majesty will wish you to go upon
the mission that your father was soon to have
undertaken to Islay and Mull. ’Tis passing
136 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

unfortunate that you are so young, Earl Kenric,
and so little experienced in the arts of diplomacy
that so marked your good father. But methinks
his Majesty will be well pleased to see you, and
to know what manner of man he has now to
depend upon in his future dealings with the
Norsemen. Your youth will assuredly be no
disadvantage in the eyes of one who was mon-
arch over all Scotland at eight years old.”

“Think you, Sir Piers, that we shall at last
come to a war with these Norsemen?” asked
Allan Redmain.

“Of that I have little doubt, Allan,” said Sit
Piers. “ Methinks the time is not far distant
when the possession of the Western Isles must
be determined at the point of the sword.”

This promise of coming strife was by no means
unwelcome to Allan Redmain, for those peaceful
and prosperous times gave but few occasions for
the earnest exercise of the sword, though, indeed,
the weapons of the chase were in constant use,
and Allan felt the young blood course through
his veins with quickened excitement at the pro-
spect of engaging in a pitched battle against the
valiant vikings of the North.

As to Kenric, the one thing which made him
somewhat less eager than Allan was his know-
ledge that there was now no immediate hope of
meeting the slayer of his father in a hand-to-hand
THE DOMINION OF THE WESTERN ISLES. 137

encounter. The outlawed Roderic was now far
away on his pilgrimage to the Holy Land, and
the vengeance might never be fulfilled. If war
should come, and Kenric himself be slain, then
Roderic was the next heir to the lordship of
Bute, and whether King Alexander or King
Hakon became the overlord and monarch, it
mattered little, for Roderic would still make
claim to his father’s dominions.

Earl Hamish of Bute had but a few days be-
fore his tragic death been into Scotland to render
account to Alexander the Third concerning his
mission to the King of Norway. That mission
had failed in its object. The letters of Henry
of England and his Majesty of Scots had not
succeeded in persuading the Norse monarch to
resign his claims to the dominion of the Western
Isles. King Hakon claimed that those lands,
from the Lewis in the north even to the Isle of
Man in the south, were his by right of both con-
quest and possession, and that each and all of
the island kings, or jarls, were bound in fealty
and vassalage to Norway. On the other hand,
King Alexander claimed that he held yet stronger
rights of sovereignty, and that the islands were
even by nature intended to be part of Scotland.

The Western Isles, and more especially that
group lying south of the holy island of Iona,
were at this time in a most prosperous condition.
138 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

Together with a large tract of country on the
north-east of Ireland, they formed a sort of naval
empire, with the open sea as its centre. They
were densely populated. The useful arts were
carried to a degree of perfection unsurpassed in
other European countries. The learned Irish
clergy had established their well-built monas-
teries over all the islands even before the arrival
of the Norse colonists, and great numbers of
Britons, flying hither as an asylum when their
own country was ravaged by the Saxons, had
carried with them the remains of science, manu-
factures, and wealth introduced by their Roman
masters.

The habits of the islanders were piratical—
the natural result of the possession of ships—
and their conquests extended along the east of
Ireland, the coast of Cumberland, and a large
part of the mainland of Scotland, including the
wholecounty of Caithness. The Norwegian king,
an ambitious and despotic monarch, who had
risen to power from the position of a poor comb-
maker’s son, hoped by the help of these depen-
dants to invade and conquer the whole of Scot-
land, and he was encouraged to the attempt by
such self-seeking men as Roderic of Gigha and
Erland of Jura, who made no scruple to enlist
themselves in any cause that gave promise of
increased power.
THE DOMINION OF THE WESTERN ISLES. 139

It was natural that the Scots kings, as they
increased their strength, should wish to annex
these districts. But the efforts of Somerled of
Argyll in the twelfth century, and of King
Alexander the Second in 1249, had done no
more than secure the few islands lying within
the shelter of the Firth of Clyde. Earl John
of Islay and many of his neighbours were now
paying homage to both Norway and Scotland.
The isle of Gigha, which had been a possession
of Alpin of Bute, had been bestowed at that
chief's death upon his younger son Roderic.
But Roderic, as has been told, had gone over
entirely to King Hakon, and had refused to
acknowledge his vassalage to his rightful sove-
reign of Scotland. Thus, at the time when young
Kenric became the lord of Bute, the whole of
the isles west of the peninsula of Kintyre were
in the hands of petty kings, who, holding lands
of both crowns, were still uncertain to whom
they should pay their paramount allegiance.

During the minority of Alexander the Third
all efforts to reduce the isles were abandoned.
But now that the king was no longer a boy, he
was resolved to compel all these vassals of Nor-
way to renounce their allegiance and acknow-
ledge their adherence to the Scottish crown.

On the appointed day Sir Piers de Currie
crossed over to Bute.
140 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

He was a man of middle age, tall and strong.
His gigantic limbs were hard and stout as the
trunk of an oak sapling. He wielded the long-
est sword and the heaviest battle-axeé in Bute
and Arran, and he was the best bowman in all
the lands of the Clyde. His life among the
mountains of Arran had given him a mighty
power of endurance, for it was his habit to rove
for many days over the craggy heights of Goat-
fell, climbing where none else could climb, slay-
ing deer, spearing salmon, following the wild
wolf to his lair, sleeping on the bare heather,
drinking naught save the crystal water of the
mountain burns, and eating the simplest food.
His band of retainers, though scarcely less strong
of limb than their master, were wont to say that
their labours were even as those of the mythical
Sigmund, who was condemned to make a new
island in the ocean of the rocks that he clove
from the topmost peaks of the Mountain of the
Winds. And yet they loved their master by
reason of his strength and power, for he was
the king’s nephew in Arran, and would some
day be the lord of that isle and of the great
castle of Brodick.

Landing on the shores of St. Ninian’s Bay, he
strode with great strides towards Rothesay, and
Lulach the herd-boy seeing him, thought him
the most gallant warrior in all the world, and
THE DOMINION OF THE WESTERN ISLES. I41

wondered what his business might be in Bute,
and why he should have come over without a
train of attendants. It took the knight but a
little time to cover the four miles between St.
Ninian’s and Rothesay, and on the sloping
strand of the bay he found Earl Kenric busy
with his retainers carrying stores down to a
great galley that was moored against a stone
pier in the little creek near to the castle gates.

This ship, which was built in the shipyard of
Rothesay, was entirely of oak and of great
dimensions, ornamented with richly-carved dra-
gons overlaid with beaten gold. It had ten
banks of oars, each of the twenty long oars
being rowed by two sturdy islanders. There
was also a stout mast, upon which, when the
wind served, a wide-spreading square sail might
be hoisted.

“A gallant bark, by my faith! a gallant bark,
Kenric!” said Sir Piers as he stepped on board
and walked towards the high poop. “Would
that we had a dozen such vessels, and manned
by as brave a set of islanders as you have here!
Then might we hope to make a bold stand
against any sea-rover out of Norway.”

“Five other galleys the like of this are now
lying at safe anchor in the bay of Kames,” said
Kenric; “and had we yet another half dozen,
there are men-at-arms in plenty to man them—
142 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

all trained in the use of sword and long-bow,
and eager enough, I warrant, to have a fling at
Hakon’s valiant vikings.”

“Right glad am I to hear it,” said the knight,
‘for he who is prepared has half his battle
fought. Ah, Allan,” he added, seeing young
Redmain already on board, “I was but now
about to ask if you had not yet come across from
Kilmory. Where is Sir Oscar this morning?”

“ Hard at work in the fields,” answered Allan.
“And he bade me tell you that should King
Alexander commission you on any dangerous
enterprise, there are threescore of fishermen at
your service over at Kilmory.”

‘’Tis well. And now I see you have not
forgotten the king’s tribute,” said Sir Piers, as
he observed the pair of gerfalcons that Allan
was tending. “Could his Majesty receive a like
tribute from other vassals, methinks there would
be need to supply him also with a few score of
herons to fly them against. But the tribute
customs are well ordered. One sends a hart,
another a hound, one a heron, and another a
hawk. My lord of Arran’s offering is but two
dead golden eagles—and for the matter of that
his Majesty might have all the eagles in Arran,
and welcome, for we have over many of them.”

“Stand by your oars, my lads!” cried Kenric,
balancing himself upon the gunwale and stepping
THE DOMINION OF THE WESTERN ISLES. 143

aft. “Now, Duncan, heave off the ropes, you
laggard. So. Ready all!”

Then the boatswain, standing by the mast
upon the centre gangway running fore and aft
between the two sets of rowers, blew his horn,
and the rowers pushed up their oars at arms’
length that the blades might catch the water,
then springing upon the thwarts which they
gripped with their bare feet they threw them-
selves back with all their weight and strength,
and the ship began to glide through the clear
water. And so, springing up again as before
for another pull, the men went to their hard
work with a will, singing a wild Gaelic boat-
song in measured time with the strains of Dove-
nald’s harp, and the galley, with ever-increasing
speed, sailed out into the mid-bay. When there
was a good way on her the work at the oars
became easier and the song sank down into a
subdued crooning sound that was soothing to
hear.

The shipmaster steered them out into the
broader sea past Toward Point, and two hours’
good rowing up the firth brought them abreast
of the fortress of Dunoon. When the course
was turned eastward the oars were shipped and
the great sail was set to catch the light western
breeze, and then they went speeding up the
Clyde to Dumbarton, whose strong-built castle
I44 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

stood upon a high steep rock on the northern
bank of the river.

“ Alas!” said Sir Piers de Currie, as he turned
his clear gray eyes towards the battlements,
“much do I fear that we are doomed to dis-
appointment. The King has not arrived! Had
it been so we should have seen the brave flag
of the Scottish lion flying upon those towers.”

“That were indeed a disappointment,” said
Allan Redmain regretfully.

“ Nevertheless,” said Kenric, “ we can at least
leave the tribute at the castle, and it may be
that the warden can tell us when his Majesty is
expected.”

In a little time they had landed and mounted
to the castle gates, where the lord-warden met
them and bade them enter. They gave up their
weapons, and Kenric delivered his two hawks
to the falconer. So when the warden had offered
them all drink and food, he asked Sir Piers de
Currie how it was that Earl Hamish of Bute had
not accompanied him.

“Alas! he is dead,” said the knight, telling of
the treachery of Roderic.

“Woe, woe!” cried the old warden with tears
in his eyes. “But this is surely the saddest
thing that could have befallen, and a sorry blow
for our country. And this is his son, eh? By
the rood, a well-favoured youth, and a strong.
THE DOMINION OF THE WESTERN ISLES. 145

Heaven grant that he prove as good and leal
a man as his father before him!” and he rested
his hand on Kenric’s shoulder.

“And now, what of his Majesty the King?”
asked Sir Piers.

“ He comes from Stirling even now,” said the
warden, “and will be here at sunset. But
tis a wearing ride from Stirling to Dumbarton,
Sir Piers, and it may be you will not have
audience with his Majesty ere morning. So
bring in your shipmen, my lord of Bute, for me-
thinks there will be rain to-night, and a cosy
chamber in the castle were better lodging than
an open boat. Doubtless, too, our own men-at-
arms will welcome your retainers for the story
they have to tell of this sad happening in Bute.”

Accordingly the crew of Kenric’s ship were
brought within the castle, and with the men of
Dumbarton and the body-guard of the king
they formed a merry company in the guard-
room, while Kenric and his two companions
remained as guests of the lord-warden. ~

At the moment when the sun was sinking in
the golden west, the King of Scotland arrived,
accompanied by Queen Margaret and their
attendants; but, as the warden had said, there
could be no audience that night.

(748 K
146 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

CHAPTER XVI

KENRIC BEFORE KING ALEXANDER.

EFORE a bright fire in the great audience
chamber of Dumbarton Castle sat King
Alexander the Third. By his side stood two
youthful pages, one a lad of sixteen or so, whose
delicate complexion and habit of dress proclaimed
him to be English; the other a lad of perhaps
the same age, whose clear blue eyes, flaxen hair,
and ruddy cheeks betokened northern blood.
Sitting apart were the King’s justiciary and the
sheriff of Dumbarton. At the far end of the
hall at either side of the portal stood two High-
landers, armed with drawn swords.

The king, now at the age of three-and-twenty,
was dressed in a long robe of brown velvet,
trimmed with fur. He wore a heavy chain of
gold about his neck, with the device of the thistle
resting on his jerkin of purple silk. The jewelled
haft of a dagger was seen in his belt of crimson
leather, and a long sword hung at his left side.
His long thin legs were clothed in tight-fitting
hose, and his feet—which were, perhaps, over
large—were furnished with warm slippers lined
with fur. He sat with his legs stretched out
before him, and with his hands clasped behind
his head. Presently he yawned, stretched his
KENRIC BEFORE KING ALEXANDER. 147

arms aloft, and stood up, walking to and fro
about the apartment with his thumbs stuck in
his belt. In person he was majestic, and al-
though his figure was too tall and his bones
over-large and ill-covered, yet his limbs were
well formed, and he bore himself gracefully.
His countenance was handsome, and it beamed
with a manly and sweet expression, which
corresponded with the sincerity of his character.

Pausing abruptly in his pacing, he addressed
the English page.

“We will now see this young lord of Bute,”
he said. “Go, Edwin, and bid him enter, and
with him our friend Sir Piers de Currie.”

Edwin went out. His companion of the
flaxen hair fixed his blue eyes upon the door-
way, nervously expectant.

“Ah, my young Harald!” said the King in
Gaelic. ‘So, then, you heard the name of Bute,
eh? Are you already weary of courtly life
that you so prick up your ears at the name of
an island?”

The youth blushed and looked ashamed, but
still furtively watched the door as it was re-
opened to admit Earl Kenric. Sir Piers de
Currie entering with him, remained within the
doorway until the king should be ready to receive
him.

Kenric was attired in the same fashion as on
148 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

the day of his throning, but that he now wore
no covering upon his head. He advanced
towards the king, and prostrated himself humbly
before him.

“God be your guard, my lord the king,” he
murmured in that pure English that his mother

had taught him, and raising himself on one knee
he took King Alexander’s hand in his own and
pressed it to his lips.

“JT, your Majesty’s humble vassal of Bute,”
he continued, “ Kenric by name, and son of
your Majesty’s loyal subject, the late Earl
Hamish, do now come to pay your Majesty
dutiful homage for the lands I hold of the
Scottish crown; and on your royal hand I swear
to maintain fidelity to your Majesty as my liege
lord and sovereign, and not to enter into: any
league with the enemies of Scotland, saving
only in the case of unjust oppression. In token
of my loyalty I agree, as the old custom of my
fathers hath ordained, to deliver once* every
year at the castle of Dumbarton—as I have this
day delivered—two well-trained gerfalcons, and
—and—”

Kenric faltered, for he heard the rustling of
a woman's dress very near him. The young
queen had entered.

“Enough,” said the king. “And say, now, how
does your sweet mother, the Lady Adela, and


KENRIC BEFORE KING ALEXANDER. 149

how bears she her grief at the sad loss that hath
befallen her? The lord-warden of this castle
hath already acquainted us of the treachery of
the man Roderic.”

“So please you, sire, she is now passing well
recovered, and bears her sorrows most nobly,”
said Kenric,

“And now,” said the King, “how happens it
that Roderic of Gigha was allowed to leave your
island alive? Had such a crime as his been
committed within the realms of Scotland it is
not thus that the criminal would have escaped.”

“He was duly tried for his ill deeds, your
Majesty,” said Kenric, glancing aside at the
queen. “ Heclaimed wager of combat with my
brother, whom, alas! he overcame and slew in
fair fight. Our steward, Sir Oscar Redmain,
finding him guilty, nevertheless passed sentence
of outlawry upon him—a sentence which I crave
you Majesty to ratify.”

“That have we already done,” said the King;
“and should this villain again set foot in Scot-
land, or in any one of the Western Isles, ere his
term of outlawry be duly passed, we shall hold
no man guilty who puts him to the sword—nay,
we shall reward him well. As to the lands of
Gigha they are now forfeit, and the lordship
over them, my young Earl Kenric, shall hence-
forth be yours.”
150 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

Then the King drawing his sword touched
Kenric on his broad back, saying:

“Earl Kenric, in right of your parentage and
in virtue of the future service which we shall
expect of you, we now pronounce you the right-
ful lord over the isles of Bute and Gigha, with
the title of knight of the most ancient order ot
the Thistle.”

Sheathing his sword the king then greeted
his queen and presented Kenric to her. This
honour so embarrassed the youth that when her
Majesty asked him questions concerning his
mother he could scarcely utter a word, but
stuttered woefully.

Daughter of Henry the Third of England,
and sister of Prince Edward—who afterwards
gave such trouble to the realm of Scotland—
Queen Margaret was at this time but one-and-
twenty years of age. She was bright-eyed and
well-featured, with a clear fresh complexion, and
her every movement was of stately grace. She
smiled upon Kenric with her sweet rosy lips, and
bade him sit near her and tell her how his mother,
accustomed to the life of the English court,
contrived to live happily in so wild and dulla
place as the little island of Bute. But Kenric
in replying noticed only the coronet of pearls
that the queen wore in her glossy hair, the
surpassing whiteness of her neck and_ hands,
KENRIC BEFORE KING ALEXANDER. I51

and the rich splendour of her purple velvet
gown.

Meanwhile the king had received Sir Piers
de Currie.

“This young lord of Bute pleases us well,
Ranza,” said King Alexander, addressing the
knight by the name of his castle; “and we doubt
not that he will prove even as stalwart an ad-
herent as his father, though, indeed, we had been
better pleased had he been somewhat older.
Take him under your care, Ranza, so that
he may acquire some of your own skill at
arms.”

“ Methinks, sire,” said Sir Piers, “that there
is little need of that, for since the death of Alpin,
the lad’s brother, there is none whom I could
teach less to than young Kenric. A little more
weight and strength, it may be, might serve him
well. God alone can give him those. But of
skill he requires no more than myself.”

“Such praise from you is a recommendation
that any man in Scotland might be proud of,
Sir Piers,” said the King. “ But there is one
thing more. Know you if the lad speaks the
tongue of these Norse varlets of the isles?”

“ Not speaking it myself, your Majesty, I am
but a poor one to question on that matter.”

The King then called Kenric to his side, and
bade the young page Harald address him in his
152 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

native tongue. At this the flaxen-haired lad
leapt towards Kenric with glistening eyes.

“My good friend,” said he in Norse, “be not
alarmed at what I shall say. The King knows
not a word of our tongue. Tell me, is it to set
me free that you come hither? Do you come
from my father?”

“Your father?” said Kenric. “I know not
who your father may be. Methinks you make
some strange mistake!”

“Alas!” said the lad, crestfallen, “then am I
the most unhappy youth that ever lived! But
stay; you come from Bute. I heard the King
say so. You have come in your ship. I saw
when you entered this room that you were an
islander. My friend, I implore you to rescue
me from the hands of these Scots. Take me
away from this land, for I am well-nigh dying
to breathe once more the free air of my island
home, and to rove again upon the wide ocean.
Say, will you help me to escape?”

“What!” exclaimed Kenric, “even in his Ma-
jesty’s presence you ask me to do such a thing?
By the rood, but you are passing bold!”

“ Enough,” said King Alexander, smiling as he
signed to the page to retire. Then he drew Sir
Piers and Kenric nearer to him.

“The death of Hamish of Bute,” said he, “is
a sore calamity. We could ill spare him. But
KENRIC BEFORE- KING ALEXANDER. 153

as concerning the matter of the Western Isles,
the time has come for speedy action, and we
must look to you, Sir Piers, and to you, Earl
Kenric, for the help that we now need. We are
about to despatch an expedition to the outer
islands, and it may be that the mission will not
be fulfilled without the spilling of blood. It is,
therefore, necessary that you should gather to-
gether a goodly number of brave men and as
many ships as may be available. With these
you shall repair to Jura, Islay, Colonsay, Mull,
and, indeed, all the isles that lie south of Mor-
ven; and there gather what knowledge may be
gained touching the power held by Hakon of
Norway in these districts. My lord of Ross
will in like manner visit the more northern isles.
You shall not want for help, for we will presently
send over to Bute some two or three ships from
Galloway and Cowall. As to the rest, we leave
it in your hands, Ranza, who so well understand
the situation. Should you, by forcibly invading
the islands of the disaffected kings, succeed in
conquering them, so much the more to your
credit. All we ask is that you draw not the
sword ere you have done all that is possible by
the persuasions of the tongue.”

Sir Piers bowed and exchanged glances with
K
“Fortunately for our plans,” continued the
154 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

King, “Roderic of Gigha is now out of our way.
He held one of the smallest of the islands, but
he was assuredly the greatest rascal in them all.
Had it been otherwise we should have hesitated
to authorize this bold attempt. But there are
many of the island kings who may be very easily
won over from their fickle allegiance to the
crown of Norway, while many have already
given us hostages for their loyal behaviour. Of
these last is Earl John of Islay—one of the
most powerful of the island chiefs. We claimed
a hostage from him, and he sent his son Harald—
the youth who has but now been speaking with
you, my lord of Bute. Alas! the lad is a sorry
scamp, and we can do naught with him. He is
ever trying to escape, for he has the heart and
spirit of a viking, and naught will please him
but to be roving the seas. Now his father has of
late shown a disposition to abandon all thoughts
of King Hakon. He has duly delivered tribute
to us. We would, therefore, have you visit him
early, taking the lad with you, and on his sol-
emnly engaging to maintain his faithful allegiance
to Scotland you will permit his son to land.”

“ Then this young viking returns with us, your
Majesty?” said Kenric.

“Even so,” said the King.

At this point the lord-warden of the castle
entered the chamber and begged the King to
KENRIC BEFORE KING ALEXANDER. 155

repair to the banqueting-hall, where the morning
meal was now ready. So the King signed to
Sir Piers and Kenric to follow him.

“So please you, sire,” said Kenric, “we have
with us a young man of Bute, one Allan Red-
main, who, if I might be so bold as say so, would
be passing well pleased could he have the honour
of kissing your Majesty’s hand.”

“ Bid the youth come in to breakfast with us,”
said Alexander.

And Kenric went out to search for Allan,
who had begun to fear that he would after all
miss even a sight of the King.

“Who is this Redmain?” asked Alexander of
Sir Piers de Currie.

And at that the knight told of how Allan had
dived into the linn of the White Lady falls to
save Earl Kenric’s life, and the King, who ad-
mired bravery in whatsoever form it was to be
found, greeted Allan so kindly that the lad re-
membered that proud occasion all the rest of
his days.

At noontide the men of Bute were again on
board their galley, and when Kenric and his
companions, together with young Harald of
Islay, had come down from the high rock of the
castle, the long oars were set in motion and the
gallant ship swept down the Clyde, making the
bay of Rothesay before nightfall.
136 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

CHAPTER XVII

HOW ALLAN REDMAIN KEPT WATCH.

IR PIERS DE CURRIE remained that
night in the castle of Rothesay, discussing
with Earl Kenric their plans for the coming ex-
pedition to the island kings. But Allan Red-
main had to bethink himself of his unwilling
task of acting as watch-dog on the lonely farm-
stead of Scalpsie, for the judgment passed upon
him in lawful assize was one which he dared not
attempt to evade. To Scalpsie, therefore, he
wended his steps without even going homeward
to Kilmory to doff the fine attire which he had
assumed for the occasion of his presentation to
King Alexander, and there, drawing his plaid
over his shoulders, he paced to and fro in the
dark night—from the sheepfold to the steadings
and from the steadings back to the sheepfold.
Weary work it was in sooth, and much did he
deplore the laws that made it binding upon one
of gentle blood to thus demean himself. He
listened to the mournful sound of the waves on
the shore, broken sometimes by the bleating of
a restless sheep in the fold. Soon he began to
feel his eyelids getting very heavy, and he sought
about for a soft bed of heather to lie down upon
HOW ALLAN REDMAIN KEPT WATCH. 157

for a while. As he was about to curl himself
up—trusting that if any night-prowling beast
should come to play havoc among the farm stock
the noise of the sheep and goats would surely
awaken him—he heard footsteps approaching.

“So, my young watch-dog,” said the voice of
the farmer Blair, “ you have bethought yourself
of your charge at last, eh? Well is it for you that
you have not neglected my sheep this night as
you did last. No more shall you send that
sleepy-headed lad Lulach to be your proxy, for
his sleeping cost me the life of one of my best
ewe-lambs. So look you well to your charge
now. Here is a cake of bread to keep you from
hunger, and a flagon of good posset to keep you
warm—'tis your nightly allowance. And if it so
be that you get drowsy, why, sing yourself a
song as do the shipmen in their night watches.
But mind you this, young Kilmory, that for
every beast I lose through the slaying of my
dog, your father, Sir Oscar Redmain, shall pay
me another of equal value.”

“Look you, David Blair,” said Allan warmly,
“it is not thus that I will be your watch-dog for
many nights. The task, I well know, is but a
lawful judgment upon me for my offence, but
you have no manner of right to say that | shall
send no proxy. If it please me to send Lulach,
then the lad shall come, and I will pay him for
158 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

his work. But to come here myself as often as
you please, that I shall not do.”

“If Lulach lose me my sheep he cannot re-
turn full value for them,” said Blair, bethinking
himself of his own interests, “whereas if they be
lost by your unwatchfulness, then can I duly
claim my own from your father.”

“Why did you refuse the better dog that my
father offered you in place of the one J slew?”
asked Allan.

“ Because,” said the husbandman with simple
pride, “it pleases me better to know that my
homestead is nightly watched by a brave and
gallant man-at-arms, who, I trust, will permit no
marauding Norsemen or thieving wolf to come
near me while I lie sleeping.” And so saying
he turned away.

“A murrain on you and your cattle,” growled
Allan. And then he began to pace his rounds,
leaving the cake of bread and the Hagon of
posset by the gate of the sheepfold.

Not long had he been thus engaged when the
heavy dew made him feel cold, and he took a
good drink of the posset. This mixture of strong
wine and curdled milk made him strangely
sleepy, whereupon, defying the law and David
Blair together, he rolled himself up in his plaid
and lay down upon the heather, to think of King
Alexander and Queen Margaret and of battling
HOW ALLAN REDMAIN KEPT WATCH 159

Norsemen. The sound of the waves breaking
upon the beach, and the sighing of the night
wind among the neighbouring fir-trees, soon
lulled him into a heavy sleep.

It might be that he had slept full four hours
when, feeling something cold against his cheek,
he wakened with a start and sprang to his feet.
There was a sharp yelp as of a frightened dog,
and he heard the movement of footsteps upon
the heather. Then the footsteps stopped and
he saw the staring eyes of a wolf glaring at him
through the black darkness.

Grasping his sword, Allan bounded off in
pursuit. The wolf trotted away at an easy pace
towards the woodland. Then as Allan ap-
proached nearer, off again it sped, leading him
deep into a quiet dingle to the east of Loch
Quien. But at each time the animal paused
Allan came nearer and nearer than before, until
at last it seemed that he had come within strik-
ing distance of the brute. He had not his bow
with him, or he might have made short work of
the wolf. But he did not shrink from a close
encounter.

As he heard the low snarling growl before
him he raised his weapon, swinging it round to
strike. Lightly the wolf sprang aside and the
sword blade whizzed through the air, striking
nothing. And ere Allan, expecting to find the
160 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

animal lying dead at his feet, could well under-
stand how he had missed his aim, the wolf had
bounded off and was lost in the darkness.

Then Allan rubbed his drowsy eyes and
questioned if he had not been dreaming, But
suddenly from behind him there came through
the still air a strange, weird, human voice that
startled him more than the sight of any wild
animal might have done.

“Allan Redmain,” it said hurriedly, “is this
you?”

“Holy Virgin!” exclaimed Allan, turning
round, “who spoke?” And against the dark-
ness of the tree trunks he again saw two shining
eyes, on a level with his own, and scarce a couple
of yards’ distance away from him. a

Now, whether it was that those eyes but re-
flected the wan light of dawn that was breaking
above the eastern hills, or that they did indeed
shine red and green by turns as did the eyes of
the wolf, may not be told. But Allan shrank
back at sight of them with a gruesome fear at
his heart.

“Hush, hush!” said the voice in a whisper
that was scarcely louder than the sighing of the
wind among the trees. “It is I, Aasta of Kil-
mory.”

“Saint Columba help me!” said Allan. “Aasta?
Aasta the wolf maiden? What trick is this you
HOW ALLAN REDMAIN KEPT WATCH. 161

have played me? It is you, then, and no wolf
that I have been following? And I had nearly
slain you!”

“Listen, Allan Redmain; and, I beg you, make
no noise,” said Aasta, drawing nearer. “ Listen
if you hear not footsteps on the moor yonder.”

Allan held in his breath for a moment, and in
the stillness he heard indeed the pat, pat of a
pair of feet hurrying away.

“Well,” he said, “I do in truth hear footsteps.
But what of that? ’Tis but the tread of some
wild boar or prowling wolf.”

“Not so,” said Aasta; “they are the footsteps
of the fair-haired -youth who came with you in
Earl Kenric’s ship from Dumbarton.”

“ Harald of Islay! He?”

“Even so,” said Aasta. “Two hours ago he
escaped by stealth from the castle of Rothesay.
He is now seeking the means of flying from the
island. I know not wherefore he was brought
to Bute; but the manner of his escaping and his
care to avoid being seen were such that I fol-
lowed him. I had gone to Rothesay to learn
of your return, and to get news for Elspeth.
Setting out for Kilmory I saw this youth steal
out by the west postern, cloaked and armed.
Tarry not here; for if it be that the youth had
no right to leave the castle, then he must even

be forcibly taken back.”
(746 Y L
162 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

“Even so, Aasta,” said Allan, “and much do
I commend you for your timely warning of the
lad’s escape. Though how by your witchery
you brought me hither I cannot well under-
stand.”

“Seek not to learn, then,’ returned Aasta,
leading him forth upon the open land; “but
come ere it be too late to arrest this fugitive.”

With no further words the fair maiden led
him southward towards the sea cliffs, skipping
over the streamlets that crossed their path, and
passing over wide stretches of barren moorland.
And down into every creek and bay she turned
her searching eyes. Suddenly she halted and
drew back a few paces, then crouched upon the
ground, bidding Allan do likewise. Thus she
crept to the brink of the cliff that stands frown-
ing above the bay of Stravannan.

The light of dawn had by this time chased
away the shadows of night, and headlands and
rocks stood out clear against the gray sky.
Aasta pointed down to the stony beach below.
The tide was at half-flood, and lying above the
water's edge was a small fishing-boat. Young
Harald of Islay had grasped the boat’s gunwale
and was pulling and tugging with all his
strength. A few more pulls and the little craft
would be launched. Every effort he made
brought it a foot nearer the water.
HOW ALLAN REDMAIN KEPT WATCH. 163

“Ah, had I but my bow and a good straight
arrow!” whispered Allan, crouching down at
Aasta’s side.

“Hush! Give me your plaid,” said she.
“ Let him not see you; but go you down by the
farther side of the bay while I take this nearer
path. When you hear me cry as the peewit
cries, run as quickly as may be towards the
boat. Methinks by his fair hair that the lad
should be of the Norsemen. Is that so?”

Throwing the plaid about her head and
shoulders, Aasta went downward by the craggy
rocks and was soon upon the beach. The boat
was already half in the water. The young
Norseman turned with a startled look at hearing
footsteps on the shingle. Aasta walked towards
him slowly, bending down now and again as
though she were gathering shell-fish. Seeing
that it was only, as he supposed, some harmless
fisherwoman, Harald took courage and waited.

“You are abroad betimes, my young master,”
said she, speaking in the Norse. “And me-
thinks you have work that ill befits such white
hands and comely apparel as yours. Let me, I
pray you, help you to launch your boat.”

“Your words, fair damsel,” said the youth as
he regarded her in wondering surprise, “surely
betoken that you are not of the people of this
land.”
164 THE THIRSTY SWORD

« And yours, my master, that you are equally
foreign to these shores. But tell me, sir, where
go you in your boat?”

“I go hence to Islay,” said he, “if so be I may
without help adventure so far.”

“Methinks,” said Aasta, “that it were at
least wise in you to have the help of a pair of
oars.”

“ There is a pair lying at the foot of the cliff
there,” said the youth, pointing up the beach.

“ Go, then, and bring them,” said she, “ while
I launch your boat; and it may be that, if you
are bound for Islay, I will, if it so please you,
accompany you.”

“Sweet damsel,” said he, “surely some strange
good fortune hath sent you to my aid!” and at
that he ran up the beach to the place where the
fishermen had left their oars. As he went the
cry of a peewit rose in the morning air

“ Pee-wit, pee-weet-weet!”

In a few moments Allan Redmain was at
Aasta’s side. She bade him stand behind her.
Harald the hostage, not seeing him, walked
back towards the boat bearing the two oars
over his shoulder. Then suddenly Allan con-
fronted him.

“So, my brave viking, you would escape,
eh?” he said, smiling at the lad’s discomfiture.

Harald frowning and with flashing eyes laid
HOW ALLAN REDMAIN KEPT WATCH. 165

the oars across the boat’s thwarts, and grasping
the gunwale tried to launch her. Aasta, making
pretence to help him, pulled the opposite way
and the boat did not move. . Then seeing that
he was intercepted the lad promptly whipped
out his dirk and sprang towards Allan with his
weapon raised. Allan stepped aside, yet did
not attempt to unsheathe his sword. Harald
followed upon him, but in an instant Aasta had
leapt behind him and flung her plaid in a loop
over his head. With a vigorous tug at the two
ends of the garment she pulled him over and he
fell upon his back. Allan seized the dirk that
dropped from the lad’s hand and threw it aside.
Grasping Harald’s two wrists he then turned
him over, planting his knee upon his back.

“ Now, Aasta,” said Allan calmly, “methinks
we had best secure his arms with my plaid.
Give me an end of it that we may twist it; so.
Now lace it well under his arms while I bring
it round his legs. There; he will not readily
draw himself out of that noose. I will leave
him in your care until I launch Ronald Gray’s
boat.”

Then, as Allan pushed the little craft into the
water, Aasta bent by the young Norseman’s
side, running her fingers through his flaxen hair.

“So bold a spirit,” said she, “is not oft
inclosed in so faira head. But ah, my young
166 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

master, beware how you let that spirit escape.
Twill do you no manner of good to have thus
avoided the castle of Rothesay, for there in that
castle are dungeons deeper than Loch Ascog,
and colder than the snowy peak of Goatfell.”

“Oh, deceitful woman that you are!” muttered
the youth, “to tell me that you were not of the
people of this land. Had it not been for you I
might even now have been afloat!”

“Had it not been for me,” said Aasta, “you
would even now have been dead, for if I had
let you use your dirk as you intended, Allan
Redmain, whose prisoner you now are, would
certainly have slain you.”

“That would I,” said Allan, now bending
down and taking hold of the lad in his strong
arms and carrying him to the boat.

“Tis a long pull round to Rothesay Bay,”
said Aasta, “and it may be that you will yet have
trouble with your charge. Let me go with you.”

Allan, standing knee-deep in the water, held
out his hand and helped her into the boat.
Then as she sat down he pushed off and sprang
on board, taking the oars.

Some four hours afterwards the boat rounded
Bogany Point and entered the bay of Rothesay.
By this time many of the men of the castle, led
by Kenric and Sir Piers de Currie, were scouring
the island in search of the fugitive Harald, and
THE EXPEDITION TO THE ISLAND KINGS. 167

when the boat touched at the little pier it was
as though it were one of the fishing-craft return-
ing after a night at sea. Allan carried his
prisoner up to the castle gates, followed by a
crowd of wondering children, and meeting the
Lady Adela in the hall he told her how he had
passed his first night as watch-dog over at
Scalpsie.

CHAPTER XVIII.
THE EXPEDITION TO THE ISLAND KINGS.

T was on a day in the month of August, 1262,
that the armament of twelve gallant ships

of war, under Sir Piers de Currie and Earl
Kenric of Bute, entered the sound of Kilbrannan
on their voyage to the outer isles. ‘There had
passed six weeks of busy preparation, for there
were stores to be got ready and put on board,
small-boats to be made trim, timbers to be
caulked, sails to be mended, many hundreds of
arrows to be cut, pointed, and feathered, and
long-bows to be strung, swords and battle-axes
to be forged and sharpened, and bucklers to be
stretched. And now, with all these matters
duly completed, the twelve vessels, with their
sails brailed up to the yards, and their long oars
moving with regular stride, crept down the
168 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

channel between Kintyre and Arran. Leading
them was the great Dragon—the same that
had sailed to Dumbarton—commanded by Earl
Kenric himself, who stood on the poop clothed
in armour of iron network and with the sword
of Somerled at his side, and wearing his shining
brass helm crested with gold wings. The lion
banner of Scotland, woven in silk, fluttered at
his bark’s mast-head. In his ship’s waist, toiling
at the heavy oars, were twoscore of well-trained ©
retainers, with a reserve of yet another two-
score and ten of his sturdy islanders crowded at
the prow.

Side by side with the Dragon was the Eagiz,
the galley of Sir Piers de Currie, having on board
young Harald the hostage; and in their wake
sailed two other ships of Arran and four of Bute,
one of Dunoon, and three of Galloway, and they
were the stoutest and tallest ships that had ever
sailed in those deep blue waters.

On the Kvaken of Rothesay was Allan Red-
main. Right proud was he of his command,
for even until the fifth week he had dreaded
that he might not be of this expedition by
reason of his being bound as watcher of the
farmstead of Scalpsie. Night by night, in star-
light or rain-storm, he had duly fulfilled his
unwilling charge, albeit he ofttimes slept through
half the night, and it so befell that on each
THE EXPEDITION TO THE ISLAND KINGS. 169

occasion that he had slept, on the next day
thereafter the farmer claimed that he had lost
yet another two or three of his ewe lambs, and
Sir Oscar Redmain was perforce bound to make
good the loss.

Now, as time went on this thing happened so
often that Allan began to think strange thoughts,
for never but on the first night of his watching
had he seen aught of either wolf or fox. Seek-
ing for a reason, he found that on those nights
that he had slept it was then that he had drunk
deepest of the crafty farmer’s strong posset, and
he was thereafter wary of that drink. One night,
having thrown the posset away without tasting it,
he made pretence of sleeping, and as he lay there
on the heather and watched with one eye open,
behold the wolf came and carried off two young
goats. Now it was not byany chanceafour-legged
wolf that did this thing. The marauder was
indeed none other than the wily farmer himself,
who carried the goats off to another place, there
to keep them in secret, with the many lambs
that he had in like manner stolen, until he might,
just-as secretly, take them over to Ayr market.
When Allan discovered the trick that had been
played upon him he went straightway to Earl
Kenric and told him of it.

“If this be so,” said the young king, “then
David Blair shall be severely punished, and you,
170 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

Allan, shall be freed from this dog’s work at the
next assize. But methinks that long ere this
you might have avoided this nightly watching.
Know you not of that custom of old time which
holds that an offender against the laws shall be
assoiled, or set free from all penalty, on producing
the heads of two wolves that he has slain?
Now, why have you not brought me your
wolves’ heads?”

“ Alas!” said Allan, “I fear me that until the
winter time comes there is but one wolf in all
Bute, and that is the werewolf Aasta the Fair.
Would you that I should bring you that damsel’s
head, my lord?”

“The saints forbid!” said Kenric. “ But bide
your time and you shall be set free, and the
more speedily since I intend that you shall come
with us on our journey to the isles.”

Well, on that same day Earl Kenric went
secretly over to the forest of Toward, in Cowall,
with a few chosen men, and in the evening when
Allan was setting forth for Scalpsie he found two
great black wolves lying dead and bloody beside
the granary of Kilmory Castle, and he cut off
their heads and carried the same to Rothesay
and delivered them to the king.

“ Here, my lord, are the heads of two wolves,”
said he, “that were alive this morning and
now are dead; and I cut off their heads with
THE EXPEDITION TO THE ISLAND KINGS. 171

my own hands. For this I claim my free-
dom.”

“Right so,” said Kenric smiling. “You
have well won your freedom, and so easily, that
methinks it might even have been secured four
weeks ago and more.”

And now Allan Redmain was made master of
the Kraken galley, with fourscore of skilful
archers under him. And as the vessels sped
down Kilbrannan Sound on this August morn-
ing he trod the deck with a proud firm step
that made his long sword rattle in its sheath,
and with his young heart beating quicker in
anticipation of the battles that were before
him.

By midnight the ships, with all sails set and
oars inboard, were abreast of the Mull of Kin-
tyre, and at sunrise the next morning, beating
due north the voyagers sighted the little isle of
Cara, with the higher land of the larger isle of
Gigha rising boldly behind it.

Kenric brought his galley to the shoreward of
her consorts, so that leaning over the bulwarks
he might see this land of Gigha that was now
his own. The coast was wild and barren, with
black jagged rocks rising high out of a bed of
foaming breakers, but sloping off from the steep
headlands into green upland pastures, striped
with glistening streams. Through a long rock
172 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

tunnel that pierced the cliffs he could see the
light of the morning sun-rays, and the great
Atlantic rollers, breaking in the midst of this
tunnel, shot up in a cloud of spray through two
open shafts and roared with thunderous noise.

At the middle of the island, which is but six
miles in length, was the hill of Dunchifil, crowned
with a strong fortress.

The ships, sailing up the western shores, came
at last into the harbourage of a calm landlocked
bay, whose waters were so crystal clear that one
might see the pebbles and sea-urchins at the
bottom, many fathoms deep. So, when the
anchors were all down a long-boat was launched
from the Dragon, and Kenric, with Sir Piers,
Allan Redmain, and one William MacAlpin, a
cousin to the late Earl Hamish, were rowed
ashore.

From a castle at the head of the bay there
came down an armed Norseman, followed by a
dozen swordsmen.

“Whose are these ships?” said he with a
loud voice, “and what men are ye who have
brought them hither?”

“Methinks our banner might tell you that
they are the ships of his Majesty of Scots,” said
Kenric stepping forward. “As to myself, since
you know me not, my name is Kenric, the son
of Hamish. I am the king of Gigha, and so
THE EXPEDITION TO THE ISLAND KINGS. 173

please you I am come to lay claim to my castles
and lands.”

At this the Norseman bowed his head.

“God give you joy of them, my lord,” said
he, and then he drew his sword and delivered it
to his master. “ Little care | what king I serve
so long as I have food and drink, with God’s
good gift of peace. And since our Earl Roderic
went hence to Bute we have daily expected
some such happening as this. I trust, my lord,
you will find that I, Olaf Grimm, have in the
meantime taken good care of your lands and
subjects.”

Then Kenric and his companions went up to
the castle and to the fortress upon the heights,
to take formal possession of his little kingdom
and to receive the homage of his people.

« And now,” said he to Olaf Grimm, “if there
be any in Gigha who have wrongs to redress or
complaint to make to me, let them be called.”

But Olaf told him that there were none, for,
said he, “since Earl Roderic has been gone we
have known naught but happiness and peace.”

“Long may that peace abide,” said Kenric.
“And now do I leave my kinsman, William
MacAlpin, as my chosen steward and governor
over my lands and as the defender of my people.”

Kenric then went on board Sir Piers de
Currie’s ship, taking a fisherman of Gigha to act
174 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

as pilot, and they left the rest of their barks at
anchor in the quiet bay under the care of Allan
Redmain.

The Zag?e galley then unattended made sail
across the wide channel westward towards
Islay, whose high hills could already be seen
like blue mists upon the far-off sea-line.

“Now, my young valiant,” said Sir Piers to
Harald the hostage, who sat upon the after-deck
looking wistfully over the tumbling waters,
“know you the colour of your native hills?”

“Well indeed do I know that,” said the lad,
“and by your course I now judge that you are
indeed taking me home, for which I am most
truly thankful. My sojourn in your country has
been little to my taste. Well will it be for the
lord of Bute, ay, and for his Majesty of Scots
also, if I take not a bitter revenge for all that |
have suffered at their hands. But, prithee, turn
your ship’s head yet more to the southward to
catch the current of Loch Andail, and so gain a
few minutes’ time. St. Olaf, how my heart
beats at sight of those hills! Ah, how the
moments lag! speed on, speed on!”

“Patience, patience, Harald, you are not
landed yet,” said the knight. “And should
your good father not choose to agree to our
terms, then back you go to Scotland as speedily -
as we came.”
THE EXPEDITION TO THE ISLAND KINGS. V75

“Let me but see my father and he will agree,”
said Harald.

“Let your father agree and he will see you,”
returned Sir Piers.

“Look you,” said the lad with flashing eyes,
“if you put me not upon the shores of Islay in
two hours’ time, then by the soul of St. Olaf I
will slay every man in your ship. As to the
lord of Bute, I will haul him up by a rope’s end
to your mast-head!” -

“So ho!” said Kenric, “methinks, Sir Piers,
that this little dog might now have a chain about
his pretty neck. What say you?”

Sir Piers then ordered one of his men to take
the lad below and keep strict guard over him.

Late that afternoon the galley entered the
beautiful Loch Andail and sailed in between
ranges of fertile hills, whose lower slopes were
gold with ripening oats and waving barley fields.
Islay was at that time one of the most wealthy
and prosperous of the Western Isles, thickly
populated, and famous over all Scotland for the
rich produce of its looms and the beauty of its
native pottery wares. It was important to
Alexander that he should win over the complete
and undivided adherence of the powerful ruler
of so wealthy a country, and Sir Piers de Currie
well understood the gravity of his mission.

The anchor was dropped in the middle of the
176 THE THIRSTY SWORD

loch where it widens above Bowmore. Sir
Piers and Kenric, attended by six armed men,
were taken ashore. A tall husbandman with a
long golden beard and sea-blue eyes stood upon
the rocks where they landed, looking out at their
great ship from under his wide flapping hat.

“ Say, my good man,” said Sir Piers, address-
ing him, “say if we may hope to find my lord
the Earl John in his castle of Bowmore?”

“That,” said the man smiling as he swung
his sickle from side to side, “must needs depend
upon whether I enter that castle before you or
behind you. But doubtless John of Islay will
be right well pleased to give you entertainment
this night, for ‘tis long since he had news from
Scotland, whence, if I mistake not, you are now
come. How fares our sovereign lord the King
—his Majesty Alexander?”

“Passing well,” said Sir Piers, “for tis but a
few weeks past that I had speech with him at
Dumbarton.”

“Ah, then you heard also of my son—my
dear son Harald?” cried Earl John eagerly.
“The saints grant that you bring me no ill
news of him! But come, I beg you, for ‘tis
ill-mannered in me thus to question you ere
you have broken bread.”

Then the lord of Islay led his visitors to his
castle, and there they enjoyed a right lordly
THE EXPEDITION TO THE ISLAND KINGS. 177

repast in the banqueting-hall. And when the
feast was over Sir Piers de Currie, as ambas-
sador from the King of Scots, claimed the
homage of Earl John, who solemnly swore upon
his sword and by the soul of his Majesty the
King that he would be true to his fealty to
Scotland and abjure all allegiance to Hakon of
Norway.

“My lord,” said Sir Piers, “now that you
have given us this assurance of your faithfulness,
it is my pleasure to tell you that your son is on
board our ship and will be at once restored to
you. For these are his Majesty’s instructions.”

In another hour young Harald the hostage
was released from the care of the guards who
stood over him. But as the lad left the ship he
shook his closed fist at Kenric and swore an
oath of vengeance upon him and upon all the
men of Scotland whom he should ever after-
wards meet.

Kenric thought little of this threat, but it was
not long ere the hot-headed young viking put it
into execution.

Now so easily had Sir Piers de Currie fared
at Islay, and so much did he pride himself upon
the success of his first negotiation, that he
thought surely he would meet with equal favour
in the other islands. Returning to Gigha he
ordered a division of his forces. Bidding Kenric

(746) M
178 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

proceed with a squadron of six ships to Colon-
say, Coll, and Tiree, he took under his own
command the six other galleys, namely, three
of Arran, one of Dunoon, one of Galloway, and
one of Bute, the last being the Kraken, of which
Allan Redmain was the master.

With these six galleys Sir Piers, leaving
Gigha in advance of Kenric, sailed for the isles
that lie off the mainland of Argyll and Lorne,
agreeing to rejoin Kenric in three weeks’ time
in the sound of Iona.

The first island Sir Piers went to after leaving
Gigha was the isle of Jura. But there he soon
found that Erland the Old was not so easily to
be won over as his neighbour of Islay, for he
had already renounced all allegiance to Scotland
and was in open league with the King of Nor-
way. So when he saw the six ships of the
Clyde sailing along his rugged coasts he mus-
tered all his retainers by the summons of the
fiery cross and gave fight. There was a
vigorous battle in the sound of Jura, with much
slaughter on either side. The ship of Dunoon
was captured by the men of Jura, and all on
board were brutally slain.

Then Sir Piers de Currie and Allan Redmain
with their remaining galleys sailed yet farther
up the strait and landed on the north of Jura
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THE EXPEDITION TO THE ISLAND KINGS. 179

with blood. The men of Galloway fought as
wild wolves, and much ado had their leader to
stop them from breaking into the monastery and
chapels and plundering them of the treasures
that were therein stored.

In the midst of this bloody work Erland the
Old again appeared with his army of islanders
from the south, and at last drove off the invaders,
capturing the galley of Galloway and dealing
with her crew as the gallant men of Dunoon
had already been dealt with.

Thus repulsed, Sir Piers drew off and crossed
to the mainland, taking shelter in the loch of
Crinan. The good master of Duntroon Castle,
who was for the Scots, gave succour to the
wounded men, and supplied reinforcements to
the number of forty retainers.

After five days the four ships sailed off again,
taking possession in the name of the Scots king
of the isles of Scarba, Luing, Seil, Kerrera, and
Lismore, besieging many castles and imposing
oaths of fealty upon their lords, and lastly to the
great isle of Mull, whose king was a true Scot
and most friendly disposed.

By this time the three weeks were passed,
and they sailed round the south of Mull and
anchored in the offing between Staffa and Iona.
So anchored, they waited for Kenric’s squadron.
But the days went by; the month of August
180 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

passed into September, and Kenric did not
appear. A watch was kept both night and day,
yet the six ships that were so anxiously expected
came not to the appointed place.



CHAPTER XIX.
STORMING AN ISLAND STRONGHOLD.

NE morning very early Allan Redmain was
on watch. He had had his fill of fight-
ing, and not few were the wounds he had re-
ceived of both arrow and spear. Wrapped in
his warm plaid, he paced the deck. The sea-
gulls flew about the mast-head and dipped into
the blue water. The mountains of Mull were
shrouded in white mist. Suddenly Allan paused
in his walk and looked northward towards the
little isle of Staffa. On the sea-line he saw what
at first he took to be the Treshnish Islands; but
soon these faint shadows loomed more distinct
through the morning mist and took the shape of
ships’ sails. Six ships he counted.

“ Kenric is safe!” he sighed. Then ordering
one of his small-boats to be lowered, he went to
tell the good news to Sir Piers on his galley
hard by. But as together they looked across
the sea they counted yet another ship.
STORMING AN ISLAND STRONGHOLD. 181

“You mistake, Allan,” said Sir Piers. ‘These
are not Kenric’s ships at all, but the galleys of
my lord of Ross, who has, as you know, been
upon an expedition similar to our own—to Skye
and Lewis.”

“Alas!” said Allan. ‘Then, where can
Kenric be?”

‘“Where indeed?” sighed Sir Piers.

At this moment one of the men of Arran
touched his master’s arm.

“There is a fishing-coracle coming alongside
of us, my master,” said he, ‘“ with two fishermen
in her.”

Sir Piers and Allan crossed the deck and saw
a small boat bearing towards them, rowed by a
brawny western islander.

“Saint Columba protect us!” cried Allan.
“Look but at that man sitting in the stern!
"Tis none other than Duncan Graham of Rothe-
say, my lord Kenric’s henchman. Whence
comes he? and where is his master? Duncan!
Duncan!” he called.

Duncan raised his eyes. His face was haggard
and wan. His cheeks were thin, his clothes torn
and blood-stained.

Allan threw down a rope’s end, and the boat
was drawn alongside. Scarcely able to move
his gaunt limbs, Duncan clambered up the gal-
ley’s side and fell upon the deck, moaning. From
182 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

under his ragged plaid he drew a formidable
sword and held it towards Allan without speak-
ing a word.

“The Thirsty Sword!” cried Allan in dread
surprise as he took the weapon. “ Alas! Kenric
is most surely dead!”

“Not so!” moaned Duncan, lolling out his
tongue. “Ah, food, food!”

Then Sir Piers de Currie bent down, and
with the help of Allan took up the giant form of
Duncan, and carried him below into the cabin.

For two long hours the man lay without utter-
ing a word. But the warm wine with which they
fed him brought back something of his strength.
He put his hand to his chest to show that he
was wounded. Allan Redmain drew away the
garments and revealed a gaping sword-wound.

“No; not dead,” moaned Duncan. “ He yet
lives. But oh, my masters, hasten to his aid, for
he is even now a helpless prisoner in the dark
dungeon of Breacacha Castle!”

«A prisoner?” echoed Allan.

“ Breacacha?” said Sir Piers. “ Where is that
castle? In what isle?”

“Over in Coll,” said Duncan, pointing west-
ward across the sea.

Then from the ships of the Earl of Ross
came the loud call of a clarion-horn. Sir Piers
de Currie moved to go on deck.
STORMING AN ISLAND STRONGHOLD. 183

“ Stay, stay, Sir Piers,” said Allan Redmain.
“ Ere you go, give me, I implore you, the liberty
to take two of our ships across to Coll, that |
may save my friend and master and rescue him
from out his dungeon.”

“Little need have you to ask that, Allan,”
said the knight. ‘Would that I might accom-
pany you! But I am in the hands of my lord of
Ross, whose orders, by the King’s instructions,
] am now subject to. But ere I resign my com-
mand, let my last directions be to you, Allan.
Take two of our galleys, with what men you
will. Rescue our dear young friend even if need
be at the cost of your own life, and God be with
you. Farewell!”

Allan Redmain had Duncan carried upon the
Kraken galley, and, taking also the Seahorse of
Arran, with a full company of men upon each,
he set out to cross the twenty miles of sea that
divide Iona from the island of Coll; while Sir
Piers de Currie repaired on board the flag-ship
of the Earl of Ross.

“And now, Duncan,” said Allan, when his
two vessels were well under way, “take, 1 beg
you, a little more food—”

‘No, no,” said Duncan, bracing himself up.
“J have already taken what will serve me till I
tell you all that has befallen my young master.
Not another bite passes my lips until I have
184 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

seen him again in life. But, lest by chance my
own life’s breath ebb out too soon, let me direct
you to this stronghold wherein the Earl Kenric
lies lingering to his death in bitter hunger.
Know, then, that the castle of Breacacha lies
at the south-east of Coll. Could I have got
within its strong walls, as you and your men-at-
arms may now do, haply I might have saved him.
But I alone am left of those who followed him
ashore, and I could not reach him without help.
The great God be thanked that I have at last
found it.”

Then Duncan, groaning, threw back his head
and closed his eyes.

“Men of Bute,” said Allan, returning to his
shipmates, “yonder, in that isle that you see
across the waters, our lord Kenric lies perishing
of hunger in a castle dungeon. No more need
I say to you, my brave comrades, for well do I
know that there is no man of you who will think
of rest until we have saved him. Speed you,
my lads, work well your oars, and God grant
that we be yet in time.”

“Kenric! Kenric!” they cried with one voice
as they fell to their oars, and so the ship
sped on over the chopping waves, leaving the
companion galley of Arran to follow in the
wake.

‘Now, Duncan, ifso be you have the strength,”
STORMING AN ISLAND STRONGHOLD. 185

said Allan, going back to his cabin, “I would
hear what you have yet to tell.”

Duncan raised himself on his elbow and began.
His tale was told with feeble, faltering voice, and
not until afterwards did Allan hear it in all its
particulars.

Kenric, with his squadron of six galleys, left
the little isle of Gigha ere the galleys of Sir
Piers de Currie were well out of sight. Through
the fierce sound of Islay his good ships sailed
as with spreading wings, and the next morning
he sighted the isle of Oronsay. Taking the
western coast, he crept up to the more northern
isle of Colonsay, and stood off a little village that
had a castle in its midst. Above the gates of
this castle, that was called Dungallan, waved the
white falcon banner of the old Norse vikings.
On seeing it, Kenric hoisted the banner of the
Scottish lion.

Now the position held at this time by both
Erland of Jura and Sweyn of Colonsay—vassals
both of Hakon of Norway—was shown in the
conversation that was the prelude to the murder
of the good Earl Hamish of Bute. Of the
attitude held by these two island kings towards
Scotland, Kenric, however, knew nothing, and
though it may be that he was eager enough to
meet Earl Sweyn the Silent in mortal combat,
yet he did not forget the caution of King


186 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

Alexander against drawing the sword ere the
tongue had done its work. He was loth to show
battle, while he was careful enough not to ven-
ture ashore unprepared for a warlike reception.

As Kenric was making ready to land he
looked towards the shore, and there came down
some fourscore of the men of Colonsay. Fair-
haired sons of the North they were, all well
armed and ready to resist the strangers with a
shower of their swift arrows. Then Kenric
knew that there was to be no chance of a peace-
ful parley, and he made no more ado but drew
his galleys inshore, and bidding his men crouch
down in the shelter of their bulwarks he assailed
the islanders with such volleys of well-directed
arrows that they soon began to retreat towards
their stronghold, leaving several dead and
wounded lying upon the beach.

It so chanced that the island was at that time
but ill protected, for Earl Sweyn had gone on a
roving cruise upon the seas, leaving a weakened
garrison to defend his people. By what means
the remaining islanders had so promptly pre-
pared themselves for the arrival of the invaders
Kenric did not pause to conjecture, but that
they had been warned of his coming he could
not doubt. Had he by chance caught sight of
young Harald of Islay standing apart on the
heights the matter had needed no deep question-
STORMING AN ISLAND STRONGHOLD. 187

ing. For that young viking had lost no time
in crossing over to Colonsay, and though the
lord of the island was absent he nevertheless
warned the garrison that Kenric of Bute, with
a squadron of twelve galleys, was about to make
a raid upon their island, and that it behoved
them to make speedy preparations to resist him.

His landing being now possible, owing to
the retreat of the defenders, Kenric ordered two-
score of men from each of his ships to take their
arms and follow him ashore. With two hundred
and forty men-at-arms he then landed. His
own, retainers of Bute formed in a compact body
upon the strand, and led by himself and Duncan
Graham they at once marched towards the castle.
But John Dornoch’s men of Galloway waited
not to give order to their ranks, neither stayed
they for the word of command from Kenric, but
rushed in hot pursuit of the islanders through
the little street of their village.

Now the wild Scots of Galloway, whom
Alexander had sent as a contribution to the
forces, were as yet little known to Kenric, and
he was not long in discovering that he might
have done far better without them. They had
joined the expedition with minds bent upon
pillage and slaughter. They were by nature
a people of wild and ferocious habits, a fierce
and ungovernable set of men who fought half
188 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

naked, and were wont to commit acts of untold
cruelty upon the inhabitants of the countries
they invaded. Also, as both Sir Piers de Currie
and Kenric discovered to their cost, they were
never content but in leading the van in battle.

Ere Kenric and his well-ordered men arrived
at the castle the Gallwegians had already assailed
the gate, and in despite of many arrows that fell
about them from the towers and loopholes, they
hammered with great clubs and iron battering-
bars, clamouring for blood. The gate soon gave
way before the assault of their vigorous blows.
Then the Gallwegians, with cries of triumph,
rushed in upon the defending garrison, followed
presently by Kenric and his retainers of Bute.
A guard of some fifty men met them within the
fallen gates and boldly defended their strong-
hold with swords and pikes. The men of Gallo-
way leading, mowed them down and passed over
their dead bodies, until, finding no further resis-
tance, they proceeded to their work of plunder.

Kenric, leaving his men with Duncan, and
calling but a dozen to follow him, ascended to
the battlements and tore down the Norwegian
flag. He searched about for Earl Sweyn,
believing he was in hiding. But neither Sweyn
nor his steward could he find, nor any living man
who could tell him where the lord of Colonsay
might be,


TEARING DOWN THE NORWEGIAN FLAG,
STORMING AN ISLAND STRONGHOLD. 189

His men, ranked in order now without the
gates, awaited him, and, returning, he led them
in the direction of the beach. But as he passed
through the little settlement of wooden huts a
fearful scene presented itself. The men of
Galloway whom he had left upon their two
galleys, had boldly followed their countrymen
ashore, led by their under-captain. While Kenric,
who had himself not yet struck a blow, was
within the castle, these wild men had fallen upon
the village. They had burst open the doors of
the cottages and ferociously slain the innocent
people. Every threshold was bespattered with
blood. Before Kenric had time to interfere, or
even to realize what had taken place, many of
the homes had been plundered and laid waste.

On a little knoll above the village a band of
the Gallwegians had gathered ina crowd. As
Kenric went towards them he heard screams of
terror and of pain. With his buckler on his
left arm, and in his hand the Thirsty Sword that
had not yet been used, he led his men onward
and forced his way into the crowd. Three
women, who had been with others escaping to
the hills, now lay slain upon the grass, with
their slaughtered infants by their sides. A shock
of horror overcame Kenric as he saw two burly
Gallwegians in their wanton fury raise each a
small child upon the point of his spear, and shake
190 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

the spear until the child, pierced through the
body, fell down to his hands.

“Fiends and dogs!” cried Kenric grasping
firmly his sword. ‘Cowards and brutes!” and
wielding his weapon with a mighty swoop he
brought it down once, twice, upon the miscreants’
heads. ‘‘ Now!” he cried yet again as he stood
with one foot upon the bleeding head of one of
the men he had slain. ‘“ Now, you vile dogs!
let another of you touch one of these innocent
children that remain and my sword shall cleave
his head in twain.” He looked to some twenty
fear-stricken children who with their mothers
stood in a group at his right side. ‘ Back to
your ships, ye brutes!”” he continued. ‘ Back
this instant!”

“Who, then, are you that you so dare to
command my men?” exclaimed John Dornoch,
their captain, as with dripping sword and menac-
ing looks he stepped forward and confronted
Kenric.

“What? And you, the captain of these men,
would excuse this spilling of innocent blood—
this massacre of women and children!” cried
Kenric, flushing crimson with just fury. ‘ Who
bade you thus to take the lives of the helpless?
IT am your leader here. By the King’s own
appointment do I lead you. It is I who will be
held accountable for this most wicked slaughter.
STORMING AN ISLAND STRONGHOLD. IgI

And now, John Dornoch, I do command you to
return to your galleys and take your band of
ruffians with you.”

“Men of Galloway!” cried Dornoch, “heed
not the mawkish cries of this upstart stripling.
Obey my bidding and spare not, but kill, kill!”

Then Kenric, hearing this, gripped with both
hands his ponderous sword, looked round for
a moment to see that his own faithful men were
near to defend the children, and said with loud
voice which all could hear:

“Dornoch of Galloway, those men shall not
obey your inhuman commands. Come on!
stripling or man, ’tis not such mean cowards as
you whom I would fear. Come on, I say!”

Dornoch advanced with a mocking smile on
his lips and raised his sword. The crowd drew
back. He was full ten inches taller than Kenric
of Bute, and the muscles of his broad bare chest
were as the roots of a tree that rise above the
ground; as the nether boughs of the fir-tree were
his strong and hairy arms. Little cause did he
see to shrink from combat with the youth who
thus challenged him.

Their weapons crossed and clashed. It seemed
to Kenric that his sword urged him with a force
that he could not disobey. He made a few
quick passes, then with the full strength in his
arms and his supple body he smote his antagonist
192 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

a terrible blow upon the head, cutting down even
to the collar-bone. Then Dornoch fell to the
ground and moved no more.

The Gallwegians, seeing the fire that was in
Kenric’s eyes and marvelling at his skill and
strength, shrank back amazed and cowed.

“Now let one of you fail to obey me and I
will serve him as J have served your captain,”
cried Kenric with stern menace. “ Back to your
galleys with you this instant!” And the men
slunk off, crestfallen and dismayed.

‘Right well have you served that hound, my
lord,” said Duncan, “for he was indeed a very
brute. Fear not that his curs will now disobey
you, and trust in our faithful men of Bute, who
will give their lives ere any further wrong be
done. And now methinks ’twere well that we
hastened to the priory, for when we came into
the crowd I heard some of these scoundrels
speak of the plunder some of their band are
seeking in that holy place.”

‘Infamous dogs!” muttered Kenrie. “Oh to
think that I should be doomed to be the leader
of men so wicked!”

Leading the way to the priory, which was to
the south of the village, he found that even this
sacred edifice had not escaped sacrilege. The
priory grange had been sacked and pillaged.
Two of the friars had been slain whilst defend-
STORMING AN ISLAND STRONGHOLD. 193

ing the villagers who had taken refuge in the
sanctuary, and when Kenric appeared at the
head of his troops a band of the men of Gallo-
way were in the act of setting the chapel in
flames; a heap of straw was piled before the
arched door. But just as the flints were being
struck to make a light Duncan Graham fell upon
the men, throwing them aside, and the building
was saved.

Many hours did it occupy Kenric ere he could,
even in a small way, appease the wrath of the
much-injured islanders and restore to them their
devastated homes. His men of Bute returned
to their ships without so much as a sword wound.
Twelve of the Gallwegians had been slain and
many wounded, but even the most unruly now
bowed before the commands of the young lord
of Bute, and went back in submission to their
posts.

The isle of Colonsay had been taken; but,
saving only at the moment of landing, there had
been no fair fighting, and with such forces
behind him, Kenric might have taken the ill-
protected island without the drawing of a sword.
The wanton massacre of the women and children
was a thing which no man of honour could
excuse, and Kenric felt that he had rather have
been the vanquished than the conqueror under

such conditions. His grief for those who had
(746) w
194. THE THIRSTY SWORD.

fallen victims to the wild Gallwegians was only
partly softened by the remembrance that he had
at least saved their brethren from further in-
humanity.

Having taken formal possession of the island
and gathered his forces together, he went on
board the ships of Galloway. There he severely
rebuked the men for what they had done, and
threatened them with punishment if any should
again prove unruly. Then he picked out two-
- score of those who had been faithful to their
posts in remaining on board instead of rushing
after their companions, and these he left, under
trusty officers of his own, with one of the galleys,
in charge of the island.

This proceeding, made in the interests of the
people of Colonsay, was in some respects un-
wise, for by this means the most savage and
ungovernable were now quartered aboard one
ship. But Kenric made no doubt that with his
own four galleys and their crews he would have
no further trouble. So indeed it might have
been. But in crossing with his five vessels over
the stretch of sea between Colonsay and Tiree
he encountered a strong gale from the south-
east. The Gallwegians, being indifferent sea-
men, fell off to leeward and lost control of their
galley. In the night-time they were driven out
into the Atlantic beyond Skerryvore. When
ALONE WITH DEATH. 195

the storm abated they drifted northward, landed
on many islands in turn, playing great havoc
amongst the children of the old vikings, and so
disgracing their own country Scotland that the
Norsemen of the Hebrides vowed vengeance
upon all Scots wheresoever they might encounter
them.

CHAPTER XxX.
ALONE WITH DEATH. -

ENRIC with his squadron, reduced now to
four galleys, voyaged to the isle of Tiree
—a distance of about fifty miles from Colonsay.
There, without drawing arrow from sheath or
sword from scabbard, he prevailed over the lord
of that land to give him surety of his adherence
to King Alexander, and a solemn declaration
that he would remain true to his oaths. And
then the barks departed for Coll.

Now young Harald of Islay having warned
the people of Colonsay of the approach of the
invaders, bade his men take him at once to the
isle of Coll, whither, as it chanced, Earl Sweyn
the Silent had gone, and there the lad told the
same tale of how Kenric of Bute was bent upon
making conquest of the isles, yet breathing no
word of how King Alexander had ordered the
196 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

expedition. The men of Coll, thus warned,
would not brook that the ships of Bute should
touch at their island, so ere Kenric had yet
arrived at Tiree they got their many galleys
together, and joining with the forces of Earl
Sweyn they stood off behind the little isle of
Gunna, ready to make an onslaught upon the
squadron that Kenric was leading.

“Tt was night,” said Duncan, in telling his
story to Allan Redmain—“ It was night when
we came abreast of the isle of Coll, and we
anchored in the wide bay of Crossapol. When
the day’s light fell upon the sea my lord Kenric
came to me, and, said he, ‘Duncan, launch me
the long-boat with a dozen men, and come
with me, for I will now land upon this island
and seek for the king’s castle.’ So thereupon
we landed.

“Not long had we been ashore when from
the top of a little hill we saw, above the next
bay, the castle that men call Breacacha. And
going down to it, we were near to its gates when
behold there came out a full twoscore of armed
men, and they fell upon us with swords and
spears. Fourteen men we were against forty,
and we fought for two long hours, until of the
men of Bute there were left but three alive,
John Campbell of Glen More, my master, and
myself. I was sorely wounded in the chest and
ALONE WITH DEATH. 197

like to fall down from the loss of blood. Of the
men of Coll five remained. Twelve of their
comrades my lord Kenric had slain with his
mighty sword, and with little hurt to himself,
saving only that his breath had grown weak.

‘“ But one of our foemen, who was the tallest
man my eyes have yet beheld, at last encountered
my master. He smote him a sorry cut upon his
arm and bore down upon him so that he fell
as dead. Another man picked up the Thirsty
Sword, as I could see, for his own had just been
broken. And knowing what manner of weapon
it was, I made a great effort and slew the man
who was pressing upon me. Then I met him
who now held my lord’s sword in his hands.
Scarce had he raised it against me when I
snatched my dirk from my side and flung it
at his throat, caught his hand, and, slaying him,
rescued my lord’s weapon.

“By this time John Campbell had fallen
under the hands of the other three men of Coll,
and I alone was left, standing over the body
of Earl Kenric, to defend it against the three
warriors who now remained. But as they came
to assail me I fell down in a swoon beside my
lord, and they wist that I was dead.

“Now when my wits returned to me I felt
something move at my side, and then I saw
that Earl Kenric was yet alive, and that he had
198 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

but fallen from want of breath and strength.
Twoscore and nine brave men lay dead upon
the heather. In their midst, with their backs
towards us, sat the three men of Coll, resting
their limbs after that morning’s battle.

“My lord Kenric looked about him for his
sword, not knowing that it was lying under my
own frail body. I could neither move nor give
it to him, nor could I speak for the fear that the
men would turn round and finish us.

‘Earl Kenric boldly rose and went behind
the men. Ere he was two yards from them
they stood up, and seeing him they spoke. I
know not what they said, for I understand not
the Norse tongue, Master Allan, but the tall
man went up to him, leaving his sword upon
the heather, and took my lord up in his arms
and carried him away. The two others followed.
Then was I ina great agony of despair, thinking
they meant to slay him by some terrible torture.
And I had not strength to save him.

‘Not far had they gone when in the morning
silence I heard the tinkling of a stream near by.
Thither I crept and took a draught of its cool
water. So much was my strength renewed by
that blessed beverage, that I could have gone
through that battle once again if so be I might
save Earl Kenric’s life. -

“‘T followed the three men to the castle.
ALONE WITH DEATH. 199

They had left the bridge down and the gates
open. But scarcely had I got within when by
the sounds I heard I knew that they were lower-
ing my master into one of their dungeons. I
heard him cry aloud. ‘Ah, had I but my sword!’
he cried in our own tongue. And then his voice
sounded low down in the depths, and though
I knew he was yet alive and strong, yet I knew
also that it was no easy task to rescue him from
that place.

“Ere I reached the chamber wherein the
dungeon opened out, the three men met me.
They had left their weapons outside. Grasping
my lord’s sword and calling upon Saint Columba,
I assailed those three men in such wise that they
soon lay dead at my feet; for they could not
pass me. ‘Kenric, my lord Kenric!’ I cried
aloud. And I heard him answer my name.

“But this uproar of fighting and shouting
alarmed the people within the castle, and think-
ing full surely that a host of the reserve garrison
were coming to avenge the death of their com-
rades slain, coward that I am, I retreated with-
out the gates, leaving my dear master within.

“ Now it befell, Master Allan, that, as I had
slain those three men who alone knew where
my lord had been imprisoned, and as I had not
the wit to speak with any of those Norse folk,
it was little that I could do—”
200 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

“You have done well, Duncan, in coming for
what aid we now can give,” said Allan Redmain.
“ But say, how long time is it since my lord was
thus made captive?”

“Five days as I count,” said Dee “and
had it not been for the thing that I next dis- _
covered he had not been there five hours. When
I found myself outside the castle and with the
bridge drawn up, I hied me over the hill towards
the ships. Alas! they were no longer there in
the bay where we had left them. They were
standing out to sea, with seven great Norse gal-
leys and as many fishing-boats pursuing them.”

“Alas!” said Allan; “and whose ships were
those?”

“They were three galleys of Coll and four of
Colonsay,” said Duncan, “as I learned three
days past when they returned to Breacacha.
Our own four ships of Bute came not within
sight again, and I fear they have gone back to
Rothesay.”

“Not so,” said Allan confidently. “Our men
would never return without truthfully knowing
how it had fared with Earl Kenric. But what
of the four galleys of Colonsay?”

“They left for the north two days ago, and
the men of Coll went some into the castle and
some to their homes, leaving their ships at
anchor in the shelter of the isle of Gunna.”
ALONE WITH DEATH. 201

‘And say you that those in the-castle know
not that our lord is in the dungeon?”

‘““Even so, for who could tell them? Five
days have passed since our fight in Coll. Like
a beast of the field have I lived since then,
feeding upon the wild roots and berries, and
waiting that our ships might come back. But
by good fortune I came across the poor fisher-
man who brought me over in his boat. He
could speak the Gaelic, and with promise ot
reward | bade him bring me to the place where
Earl Kenric had told me we were to rejoin Sir
Piers de Currie. Had the man refused me I
would have slain him; but now that he has kept
his word, I beg you to give him the reward that
is his due.”

“That will I do,” said Allan, “for well does he
deserve it. A good boat with oars and sails
shall be his reward.”

By the time that Duncan had told his tale,
Allan Redmain’s two strong galleys were abreast
of the isle of Coll, and steering into a beauteous
bay that Duncan had told of, they were rowed
far in until they stood under the strong-built
fortress of Breacacha. ‘The garrison had been
reinforced by many men from the ships of Coll.
But the men of Bute were desperate, and they
said that though they gave their lives, and though
they pulled down every stone and timber of
202 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

which that castle was built, they would save
their young king. So with their friends of
Arran they landed in a great body with their
machines and battering engines. Some attacked
the raised drawbridge with great missile
weapons, while their companions picked off with
their arrows the archers who were on the
battlements.

After a two-hours’ storming of the gates the
men of Bute forced an entrance and rushed
within the castle, led by Allan Redmain. The
defenders took timely refuge in the donjon keep.
But Allan sought not to follow them. With
lighted torches he led his men into the dark
chambers that were in the heart of the castle,
till at last he found a chamber whose floor was
stained with blood.

“ Methinks,” said he, “that this should be
the place wherein Duncan slew his three foes
with the Earl Kenric’s sword;” and then he
called loudly upon Kenric. Many times he
cried out, but no answer came. Then he bade
one of his men uncoil a rope that he had brought,
and Allan, fastening a lighted torch in his
helmet, let himself be lowered into the dungeon
whose mouth gaped in the centre of the floor.

Deep down he went until his feet touched
solid ground and he found himself in a large
cavernous chamber. It was a dismal place.
ALONE WITH DEATH. 203

The rocky walls were damp and mouldy; the
floor was of hewn stone. There was an odour
as of death in the heavy air.

Holding his torch aloft he peered into the
recesses of the dungeon. At last his eye rested
upon what looked like a human form. He
started back in horror as the light fell fuller upon
it. Against the wall, crouched down with his
head between his knees, and a few rags of
mouldy plaid about his shoulders, was the grim
skeleton of what had once been a living man.
Allan drew back the tattered plaid and saw the
bare ribs and fleshless arms. And could it be
that the young hope of Bute, Kenric the good,
the brave, the true, had come to this?

Allan bent down. He was about to touch
the ghastly thing. Then the awful silence of
that black tomb was broken by the sound of a
low moan. Allan listened again, but he heard
only the drip, drip of water. Then again came
the moaning sound. He turned round and
bounded forward. By the light of his torch,
that pierced the darkness, he saw a pale wan
face, with hollow cheeks and round, staring,
brown eyes. The lips moved.

“Allan? Allan?” they faintly said. And
then Kenric raised himself on his elbow.

“The great God be thanked!” gasped Allan,
and he fell upon his knees at Kenric’s side.
204. THE THIRSTY SWORD.

Kenric spoke not again: he was faint and sore
of limb. Allan took off his plaid and spread it
upon the damp, rocky floor. Then he raised
Kenric in his arms, and wrapping him in the
plaid carried him to the bottom of the shaft
where hung the rope. Making a sling of his
plaid and securing it to the rope he called to
his men to draw up the line, and in a few
minutes Earl Kenric lay in the upper chamber
breathing the fresher air.

Not long was Allan Redmain in following,
and in the space of another hour they had
carried Kenric on board the Kraken of Bute.
For six long days and nights no food had passed
his lips, and had it not been that his frame was
of uncommon strength he must have died in that
noisome cell. For many days afterwards his
mind wandered, his eyes stared blankly, his
voice failed him, and not until two weeks after his
rescue, when he was back again in the castle of
Rothesay, did he recognize any one.

Allan Redmain’s two galleys were but a few
miles outward from the coast of Coll when they
fell in with the four galleys of Bute that Kenric
and Duncan had left. They had been pursued
about the seas by the ships of Sweyn of Colon-
say, but having outdistanced him they were now
returning to the island to search for their lost
leader. Either alive or dead, he must, they said,
HOW KENRIC MADE HIMSELF STRONG. 205

be found. Had it not been for Duncan Graham,
who alone, of all men, knew where Kenric was
imprisoned, all search for him must have been
fruitless. On some day long after he might
have been discovered, as Allan had found the
starved and forgotten prisoner in that dungeon,
a grim and unrecognizable skeleton.

CHAPTER 3GXI
HOW KENRIC MADE HIMSELF STRONG.

eee expedition against the island kings had

been attended with small enough success.
Many of the islands had indeed been invaded
and some of the smaller ones conquered.
Several of the kings, wavering between service
of two masters, had quietly yielded to the
persuasions of King Alexander’s ambassadors.
But it must be said that, despite their seeming
compliance, they were ready to turn the other
way again with equal ease, or even to evade
their duties to either monarch and assume the
dignity of independent rulers. In a_ political
sense the result of the expedition was a failure,
the conquests being incomplete, and the com-
pliance of the less warlike kings being of the
very shortest duration, ,
206 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

The misfortunes that had attended Kenric of
Bute and Sir Piers de Currie were due almost
entirely to the bad work of the wild men of
Galloway, whose lust for slaughter and pillage,
whose wanton plunderings of churches and slay-
ing of women and children brought down upon
the Scots the hatred of the Norsemen in whose
lands these depredations had been made.

It was not long ere the word had travelled
far and wide among the Western Isles that the
barbarities committed by the Gallwegians were
the work of young Kenric of Bute. It was said
that Kenric of Bute alone had ordered the
massacre of the children of Colonsay. It was
said that he had wantonly ordered similar
atrocities in Jura, in Barra, and indeed in all
those isles which the unruly men of Galloway
had invaded. Upon Kenric and his people,
therefore, the sons of the vikings swore deadly
vengeance, calling upon their patron saint to
aid them.

The Norsemen of the Western Isles lost
little time in sending messengers to Norway,
telling how the King of Scots had attempted to
force their allegiance to his crown.

Hakon, the Norwegian king, was roused to
anger. He determined to revenge the injuries
offered to his vassals, and at once issued orders
for the assembling of a vast fleet and army,
HOW KENRIC MADE HIMSELF STRONG. 207

whilst he repaired in person to his great seaport
of Bergen to make ready for an expedition
which should not only restore his vassals to
their lands and rights, but which should also
sweep away every kilted Scot from the isles, and
convert the great kingdom of Scotland itself
into a dependency of Norway.

These great preparations for war commenced
in the autumn of 1262. It was not until eight
months afterwards that they were completed.

When Allan Redmain, with Earl Kenric and
Duncan Graham lying ill in his cabin, rejoined
the combined forces of Sir Piers de Currie and
the Earl of Ross, he found these two chiefs on
the point of separating. The Earl of Ross left
the sound of Jona and sailed northward again,
while Sir Piers, with the eight galleys of Bute
and Arran, bent his course south to Colonsay,
there to pick up the vessel that Kenric had left
in guard over that island. These nine vessels
thereupon returned to the Clyde, and Sir Piers
made a journey into Scotland to make his report
to the King.

For many weary weeks Kenric remained a
helpless invalid in his castle, tended by his gentle
mother and by old Janet the nurse. His wounds
were of small account; but the six days spent in
the noisome dungeon of Breacacha had weak-
ened him and given him a fever, which was slow
208 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

to leave him. His mind was strangely disturbed,
and he talked wildly, and at random, fancying
he was fighting against countless hosts of pirate
Norsemen, and declaring deliriously that his
Thirsty Sword would give him no rest, so great
was its lust for blood. And once when Ailsa
Redmain had come over with Allan from, Kil-
mory, the young king began to laugh wildly,
and to say how he had just been over to Colon-
say to massacre many hundreds of children, and
how the good men of Galloway had tried to
- stop him, and that for their interference he had
thrown them all into dark dungeons, giving each
of them a skeleton for a plaything.

But later, when his reason had returned, Ailsa
came more often, and the two would sit for hours
together, talking of the boats that could be seen
from the window sailing on the blue waters of
Rothesay Bay, of the dark hills of Loch Striven
beyond, and of the trees across in the forest of
Toward that were brown and gold in the autumn
sunlight. Of all his nurses, Kenric loved best
that Ailsa should thus come to him, for she was
as a very gentle and sweet sister, and never did
the Gaelic words sound so musical as when
spoken by her rosy lips; never did sunlight
shine more brightly than the light that shone in
her beautiful eyes.

So the weeks went on; the autumn passed
HOW KENRIC MADE HIMSELF STRONG. 209

into winter, and soon all the land was white
with deep snow.

On a cold wintry day Allan Redmain rode
over to Rothesay on his shaggy mountain pony.

“My lord,” said he to Kenric, who was sitting
in the great hall with the abbot Godfrey Thur-
stan, “I have a strange thing to tell of an ad-
venture that befell me yestereve.”

‘Come, then, to the fire, Allan,” said Kenric,
“for on these cold days, when one cannot get
out and about, a story is ever welcome. What
Says your reverence?”

“Even so,” said the abbot, rising; “and me-
thinks the sound of Allan’s young voice, what-
ever his adventure be, will cheer you better than
the croaking of an old man, so I will leave you
together, my sons.”

Then the two lads sat side by side before the
great fire of pine logs, and each with his arm
twined about the neck of one of the deer-hounds
that sat beside him.

“And now, Allan, what is your adventure?”

“Why, ’twas a wolf-hunt we had, I and some
of our men of Kilmory. The wolves, as you
know, have been numerous in the island since
the snow and frost came. We tracked a goodly
pack of them into Glen More, and, running them
to a corrie in the hill of Kilbride, we there slew

three of them with our spears. But there was
(746) : 0
210 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

one dog-wolf, a great gray fellow that we came
upon at the head of the glen. He had a patch
of white hair about his neck, and by that I knew
that it was the same that had so frightened the
widow Campbell; and being on my pony, I gave
chase. He doubled, and ran south, leading me
even to Kilmory. There I lost him. But I
traced his steps in the snow, and where think
you they led me?”

‘Nay, how could I know?” said Kenric.

“Why, to the cottage door of Elspeth Black-
fell.”

‘Ah?PY

“There I dismounted, and, pushing open the
door, what should I see but the same wolf lying
down at his ease before the fire that burned in
the middle of the room! His long tongue was
hanging out, and I could see his great white
teeth. At his side was the old woman’s black
cat. At the other side of the fire sat Elspeth
herself, calmly eating of a dish of brose. Even
as I stood there, the old witch bent down and
laid the dish before the wolf that he might finish
the brose. When I leapt forward with spear
upraised to slay the wolf, Elspeth stepped in
between and roughly bade me put away my
weapon. ‘For,’ said she, ‘know you this, Allan
Redmain, that he is not as other wolves, and I
would not have you harm him by any manner
HOW KENRIC MADE HIMSELF STRONG. 211

of means;’ and so I went away, marvelling
much,”

“Well,” said Kenric, “and what make you
of this adventure?”

“Why this: that Aasta the wolf-maid, who
was wont to prowl about in her wolf’s guise only
at dead of night, has now taken to her fancies
by daytime also.”

“If this be so indeed,” said Kenric thought-
fully, never doubting that the explanation was
the truth of the matter, “then I would have
you be very careful in your adventures, Allan.
Spare that white-breasted wolf; for we know
not what strange ill would befall you were you
to slay Aasta by mistake. Say naught of this
to any man. Duncan Graham, who knows
more than others of Aasta the Fair, shall one
day tell us what all this mystery means.”

But for the rest of that winter, no more was
heard of the wolf-maid’s wanderings, either by
day or by night, and when the glad spring-time
came, there was no more thought of wolves.

In that spring-time Earl Kenric, now well
able to get about, busied himself upon his farm
lands, and did all manner of hard and manly toil,
so that by healthy exercise of his limbs he might
regain his strength. In the early mornings he
would sally out to the fields of Ardbeg, and there
with the ponderous plough of those times, that

‘ie
212 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

was drawn by twelve shaggy, long-horned oxen
—each with a wreath of rowan leaves round its
neck as a charm against the spells of witchcraft
—he would plough the stubborn ground for many
hours together until the sweat bedewed his brow.
And from the fields he would perhaps walk over
to Ascog to sit in his seat of assize, and there,
with the clods of earth yet upon his feet and his
arms yet tingling from their work at the heavy
plough, he would administer the simple laws
before his people. Also he would often engage
with Duncan his henchman—now recovered
from his wounds—in the exercise of arms, or
with Allan Redmain sail over to Arran to have
a day’s hunting among the fells. Every morning
before he broke fast he was wont to undertake
a curious exercise, which was that he took a
young bull calf over his shoulders and carried it
to the top of the hill of Barone; and each day
as the calf grew older, so did its weight increase,
and the burden become greater to bear. Thus
did Kenric make himself strong, until, at the end
of that summer of 1263, there was no man in
all Bute who could excel him in the use of arms
or overcome him in feats of bodily exercise.
Meanwhile, unknown as yet to the people of
Bute, King Hakon of Norway had been busily
preparing his forces for the projected invasion
of Scotland. The extent of these preparations
HOW KENRIC MADE HIMSELF STRONG. 213

soon spread alarm even on the coasts of Eng-
land. It was said that an overwhelming fleet
of ships had bent their course against the Scot-
tish islands, and the final destination of so vast
an armament was conjectured with consternation.

It was on the 7th of July that the fleet set sail
from Herlover. King Hakon commanded in
person. His flag-ship was of great dimensions,
having seven-and-twenty banks of oars. Count-
less banners, pennons, and gonfalons flaunted
in the breeze from the masts and riggings of
his many galleys. The decks were crowded
with knights and soldiers, whose armour glittered
in the sun. It was the most powerful and
splendid armament that had ever set out from
the fiords of Scandinavia, and it bore proudly
away with a light wind for Shetland and Orkney,
where additional forces enlisted under the Norse
banner.

Bearing down among the Western Isles, levy-
ing contribution of men and stores from all the
chiefs who owed him tribute, Hakon was joined
at the isle of Skye by the forces of Magnus,
king of the islandof Man. The combined fleet
now amounted to a hundred and sixty dragon
ships, with over twenty thousand fighting men.

Now, on the ship of King Magnus of Man
there was a mighty warrior, whom men called
Rudri, and he was the most terrible pirate that
214 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

ever roved upon the western seas, and all men
feared him. There was not a vic or sound that
he had not sailed into, nor an island upon which
he had not drawn his sword. He was the one
man in all that host who could best instruct the
Norse king concerning the invasion. So, taking
many ships with him, Rudri went among the
island earls and compelled them one and all to
remember their duty, and to follow under the
banner of their Norse master. Many of those
who had taken oaths of loyalty before King
Alexander’s ambassadors demurred. But the
power of the King of Scots was remote, the
vengeance of piratical warfare was near at hand,
and the islanders submitted, agreeing to pay fine
of so many hundred head of cattle as punishment
for their former desertion of Norway. And so,
like an avalanche that gathers added weight as
it descends, the invading forces drew nearer and
nearer to their goal.

CHAPTER .XXII.
THE TWO SPIES.

N a certain morning in September, Aasta
the Fair sat crouched at the door of the
little cot wherein she dwelt. She was grinding
THE TWO SPIES. 215

oats in a small stone hand-mill. Old Elspeth sat
within doors spinning.

Presently Aasta raised her eyes and looked
over towards the little isle of Inch Marnock,
where on the green knolls some sheep were
grazing. In the narrow channel that separates
Inch Marnock from Bute she saw a tiny coracle
with a man on board. The little boat drew to
the beach of St. Ninian’s Bay, where the man
stepped out and began to run. Staggering in
his gait, he fell; then rose again and again fell.
Aasta, leaving her work, ran down towards the
man, and when she got near him she saw that
his clothes were torn, and his limbs bleeding
from many wounds. He was lying on his back,
groaning. She looked into his white face and
saw that it was the face of the man whom Earl
Kenric had left in Gigha as his steward and
governor.

‘What means all this, William MacAlpin?”
asked Aasta, kneeling by his side; ‘‘and where-
fore come you back to Bute thus covered with
bleeding wounds?”

The man pointed westward, and with his
dying breath said:

‘Run you to Castle Rothesay, 1 beseech you;
run and tell my lord Kenric that the Norsemen
with their hosts have landed on Gigha, and have
wrested the island from us. They tried to tor-
216 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

ture me to death, but I escaped to tell my master
of this calamity—”

Then Aasta questioned him; but her words
fell upon the ears of the dead; so she arose.

The swift-footed hart runs not more swiftly
than Aasta ran that day across Bute. She found
Kenric lounging on the little pier and throwing
pebbles one by one into the green water. Near
him were some fishermen unloading their her-
ring-boat.

‘My lord,” said she, scarcely showing by her
easy breathing that she had run the distance
of four miles—“ my lord, J have ill news to tell.”

Kenric looked round at the tall fair maiden.
She was radiant with the beauty of strength.
Her long red hair streamed in the breeze, and
her rosy cheeks glowed with the healthy blood
that coursed under her smooth clear skin. Her
eyes were limpid as the summer sky.

‘What news may that be, Aasta?” asked the
young king.

“Tt is,” said she, “that your isle of Gigha has
been invaded and conquered by the Norsemen,
and that your kinsman William MacAlpin has
but now given up his life in telling me the tale.”

Kenric stood in troubled thought, a cloud
upon his brow.

“Where is Lulach?” he presently asked.

“Over at Inch Marnock,” she said, “and ill
THE TWO SPIES. 217

with his foot that he hurt in climbing the rocks
two days since. He cannot walk but with pain,
or I might have sent him to you.”

‘That is most unfortunate,” said Kenric, “for
saving Lulach and myself there is none in the
island who can speak the Norse tongue. I would
have sent him to Gigha to learn the truth of
this you tell, and to discover if there be further
danger.”

“You forget, my lord, that it was I who taught
Lulach the Norse tongue,” said Aasta. “And
cannot I do this mission as well as he? Give
me your bidding, my lord, and though I die in
fulfilling it, yet will I deem my life a small sacri-
fice if it be that I can serve you.”

Then Kenric’s eyes lighted up, and he looked
admiringly upon the fearless girl.

“ Aasta,” said he, “I will take your service,
and I will even go with you to Gigha this very
day. Meet meat St. Ninian’s two hours before
sunset. Have ready a fishing-coracle with some
fish, and dress you as a fisher-maid. These are
my orders. Go.”

At sunset that evening a little boat, paddled
by a stalwart young man in the rough habit of
a fisher, was crossing the waters of Loch Fyne.
He was singing a plaintive Gaelic song, and a
fair maid, whose deep red hair was covered by
a coarse blue cloak, joined in the wild strain
218 — THE THIRSTY SWORD.

with notes that were as the sweet song of the
night bird of the far south. The youth was
Earl Kenric of Bute; the maiden was Aasta the
Fair.

Crossing from Ardlamont Point, they crept up
the opposite shores of Kintyre until they came
to a wide bay upon whose banks lies the little
fishing village of Tarbert. In the growing dark-
ness Kenric paddled the boat inward to the
extreme end of this bay. Had he been in less
hurry he might have reached the isle of Gigha
by taking a larger craft and sailing down Kil-
brannan Sound and so round the Mull of Kintyre,
by the way he had gone with the galleys. But
he now adopted a speedier way and a much
safer one. The great peninsula of Kintyre,
which at the north joins to Knapdale, forms at
Tarbert a narrow isthmus of but a mile broad.
Landing at the head of Tarbert Bay, Kenric
bade Aasta carry the paddles and her basket of
fish, and himself taking up the little boat in his
two strong arms and raising it upon his back, he
thus crossed the mile of dry land. The boat was
but a light one, built of pine ribs and covered
with hide, and his task was less difficult than it
might seem.

In half-an-hour’s time the two had arrived at
another sheet of water which is called Loch Tar-
bert, and here launching the coracle again, they
THE TWO SPIES. 219

seated themselves and sailed down the narrow
loch. It was now well upon midnight, and there
was no moon; but there was little danger to be
feared, unless, indeed, some of the Norse out-
posts might surprise them.

Kenric spoke little, for, in truth, he was yet
doubtful of his companion, who might, he
imagined, at any moment turn herself into the
form of a wolf. But Aasta was very calm, and
there was small need to doubt her, for Earl
Kenric had done her a great service in setting
her free from her thraldom, and she would have
given her life for him at any moment.

When at last they emerged from the loch
where it enters the open sea they paused a while
by the shore to eat their bread-cakes and drink
the milk that Aasta had brought. They sat
face to face. Once Kenric thought he saw the
maid’s eyes sparkle with a green flash of light
and he drew back, though in sooth it was but
the reflection of the planet Venus, shining in the
clear mirror of her eyes.

The gentle rippling of the water against the
boat alone disturbed the stillness. In that still-
ness Kenric looked fixedly at Aasta through the
dim light. Aasta sank upon her knees, and
obeying an impulse that was upon her she took
his hands in her own and touched them with
her warm lips.
220 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

Kenric felt a strange thrill of pity for this
beautiful girl, so lonely was she, and so much
despised of men, and in that moment he bent
down and kissed her head. And at that the
maid began to weep, and her hot tears fell upon
his hands.

Neither spoke, but each felt that a new bond
of sympathy had been formed between them.
Presently Aasta rose to her seat, and Kenric
took his paddle and drove the boat along into
the deeper water.

Down the west coast of Kintyre they sailed
until, out across the sea, they saw the light of a
beacon fire shoot up upon the heights of Gigha.
Outward then they steered until they came nigh
upon the rocky shores of that island; and pass-
ing many little islets, they sailed between Gigha
and the brownie-haunted island of Cara, just as
the day was breaking in the east.

Here Aasta looked about her with strange
bewilderment as though she were awaking from
adream. Kenric brought the boat inshore and
took it through the long rock tunnel that he had
seen many months before from the deck of his
galley. The water was calm now and the tide
high. Aasta looked down into the clear depths
where the long tangle of marine plants swayed
with the motion of the light current. Upon the
rocky bed below she saw many ruby-coloured
THE TWO SPIES. 221

sea anemones, with emerald mosses, and pearly
shells, and silver-scaled fish. From the water
she looked to the vaulted roof. Her eyes were
restless with strange wonderment.

“My lord,” she said at last, “what place is
this that you have brought me to? And why
seem these rocks so familiar to mine eyes? This
clear green water—the lofty vault of this cave,
where the voice echoes in merry laughter! Tis
passing strange! Methinks I must have seen
them in some childish dream!”

But Kenric at that moment felt the boat grind-
ing upon a sunken rock, and Aasta’s question
passed his notice.

Beyond the tunnel they searched for a safe
landing-place in one of the little bays. Aasta
pointed to a high cliff that had many caverns
hollowed out in its steep front, and she bade
him steer into one of those caves. Kenric
laughed and asked how she thought they could
ever arrive upon the heights by that way. But
when she suddenly put her finger to her lips, in
token that she had heard voices upon the cliff,
Kenric obeyed her and took the boat into the
yawning cavern. When they were far within
Aasta said:

“Heard you not voices up above us, my lord
—the voices of many men?”

“Even so,” said Kenric. “But methinks it
222 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

will go ill with us here if we be discovered by
some passing boat. We should then be en-
trapped.”

“Not so,” said she. ‘Follow me and you
shall see that we have chosen a better point of
landing than you could have hoped for.” And
stepping upon the rocks at the far end of the
cave she led him up a flight of rocky steps until
suddenly they saw the light of day. At once
they emerged into a wide ravine that clove the
cliffs and led upward to the grassy heights of
the island. Then Aasta drew back and held
Kenric so that he might go no farther, and she
pointed across the ravine where a dip in the
opposite headland revealed a wide and sheltered
bay.

‘“ Look, my lord,” she whispered.

Kenric saw an unexpected sight, for in the
waters of that bay there lay at anchor a hundred
and fifty ships of war with the falcon flag of
King Hakon flying at each mast-head.

The sight of so vast an armament appalled
him. How it happened that these foreign ships
were riding at anchor off his own island was
a thing that passed his comprehension,

Aasta was the first to break the silence of
wonderment.

‘My lord,” said she, “there is more in this
than the dying words of your kinsman William
THE TWO SPIES. 223

foretold. And right wise were you to bid me
put on this fisher-maid’s disguise. Give me
your dirk, Earl Kenric, lest I meet misfortune,
and I will take my creel of fish and offer it for
sale among the people. It may be that in speak-
ing with the islanders I shall hear that which
the mere sight of these ships cannot explain.”

Then Kenric returned to the boat, bringing
back the basket of fish, which he gave to Aasta
together with his dirk.

“You will trust me, my lord?” she asked.

Kenric smiled. ‘To the end,” said he.
‘But what is your plan, Aasta?”

“That you remain with the boat, my lord,
while I journey to the village, wherever it may
be found. Not long shall I be, and I beg you
not to leave the cave till I return.”

Taking the fish creel over her back she went
away. Passing up the ravine and mounting ‘to
the heights, she had not gone far when she saw
a party of warriors sitting round a camp fire.
She went boldly towards them.

‘‘So please you, my masters,” she began in
the Norse tongue, “I have brought you some
good fresh fish if so be you would buy them
from a poor body.”

“Show us your fish, girl,” said one of the
men, rising. Then looking into the basket he
added, “ What want you for them?”

J
224 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

“ Four cakes of bread,” said she.

“Good,” said the warrior. ‘Let us have
them; for with so many mouths to fill all food is
welcome.”

Slowly Aasta took out the fish and laid them
on the grass. Yetnomanspoke. She touched
the nearest man on the elbow.

“ Lend me your knife, my master, that I may
gut the fish,” said she boldly.

The man took out his knife, and as he handed
it to her she saw his face and recognized Earl
Sweyn of Colonsay.

One by one she took up the fish and slowly
trimmed them on a flat stone, waiting in the
hope of hearing the warriors speak.

“When holds King Hakon his council?” one
presently asked of another.

“To-night—on Rudri’s return,” was the

reply.

“ And where?”

“Why, here on the heath, after sundown,”
said another. ‘’Tis no time for delay. Bute

and Arran have yet to be conquered ere we
assail the mainland of Scotland.”

« Ay,” said the first speaker, “methinks there
will be few Scots left in Bute for the next moon
to smile upon. Bairns, women, and men, they
all are doomed!”

Aasta now began to work quicker—so quickly
THE TWO SPIES. 225

that in a very few minutes the fish were all ready
for cooking. Then taking her four bread-cakes
she slung the basket over her head and sauntered
away.

Suddenly slit was conscious that some one
was following her. Raising her wicker basket .
higher she half turned her head. Through the
crevices of the basket she saw a youth with
long flaxen hair. It was Harald of Islay. But
soon he turned back, thinking no doubt that he
had been mistaken in his recognition of the girl
who had helped Allan Redmain to recapture
him.

After an absence of less than two hours Aasta
rejoined Kenric and told him all she had heard;
and for the rest of that day the two remained in
hiding, waiting until night should fall.

At last the dark night came. Kenric and
Aasta, the one armed with his great sword, the
other with her dirk, crept from their place of
hiding and stole across the heath towards the
camp fire, round which a score of island kings
were already gathered, awaiting the coming of
King Hakon of Norway. -

Within a hundred yards of the fire Kenric
stopped and beckoned Aasta to go round the
northern side, while he went the opposite way.
This they did that they might discover by which

approach they could best feach within hearing
(746) PR
226 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

distance of the warriors. And they had arranged .
that the one who found a likely place should
give signal to the other by means of the lapwing’s
cry.

Aasta had not well made the half circle when
through the night air she heard faintly, as it
were half a mile away, the cry, ‘‘ Pee-wit! pee-
weet!”

Quickly she returned and followed the way
Kenric had gone. Soon she found herself under
a high piece of ground that obscured the fire-
light. Then nearer to the fire she heard the
cry repeated, and she replied with the same call.
She went towards the fire until she saw Kenric
standing on the top of a high rock, outlined
against the glow of light. She knew him by
his fisher’s cloak. She saw him lie down flat
and creep nearer and nearer to the edge of the
rock.

Suddenly, between her and Kenric, she saw
another figure appear and stealthily follow behind
the young king with drawn sword.

Now Aasta had the faculty of being able to
see in the darkness almost as well as in the day-
light, and it took but a hurried glance to prove
that he who followed Earl Kenric was none
other than the fair-haired Harald.

Like the bird whose cry she had but lately
imitated she ran along the ground, drawing her

THE TWO SPIES. 227

dirk as she ran, and just at the moment when
Harald of Islay was preparing to smite Kenric
a blow that would have killed him, Aasta threw
her hand over the young viking’s mouth, dragged
him over, and then plunged her dagger into his
heart.

So quickly did this happen that Kenric, intent
upon seeing what was passing around the fire,
was quite unconscious that Aasta had saved his
life. And Aasta never afterwards told a living
being of the thing that she had done.

Leaving the body of Harald where it had
fallen she followed Kenric yet nearer to the
brink of the rock, until together they lay so near
to the band of Norsemen that they could see
their white teeth glisten in the firelight as they
spoke. The fire was built against the rock.
The warriors sat about it in a half circle.

Presently the men all rose to their feet to
greet the arrival of the Norwegian monarch.
Kenric could now see faces that had been hidden
before, and amongst them were those of Sweyn
of Colonsay, Erland of Jura, and, to his surprise,
even the renegade John of Islay. None of the
others did he know; but there were Magnus king
of Man, Sigurd king of Lewis, John of Kintyre,
and Henry the bishop of Orkney, with many
more of the most trusted of King Hakon’s
vassals.
228 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

Then came King Hakon himself—the tall,
grim-visaged, despotic old monarch of the North,
who, having reigned for six-and-forty years, had
now determined to win for himself and his
descendants the complete dominion over Scot-
land.

“And now, oh, noble lords and faithful
friends,” said he when they were all seated,
“now that we are assured of the adherence of
all these outer isles of Scotland, it remains for
us to arrange by what means our further con-
quests are to be made. Our right trusty and
noble Rudri is yet away. But on his great
help we may confidently rely in whatsoever course
we pursue. This alone does he ask, that the
invasion of the isle of Bute shall be left entirely
in his hands. We do therefore order that Rudri,
with five stout ships, shall sail hence in two
days’ time and invade that island. Thence,
with my lord Magnus of Man, he shall sail up
the Clyde and lay waste whatever lands or
castles may come in his path. Meanwhile Earl
Margad shall invade Arran with five other ships.
As to the rest, we shall remain in this isle of
Gigha and complete our preparations for the
final conquest of the mainland of Scotland.
Say, now, my noble lords, does our plan meet
with your favour?”

“Tt does, your Majesty!” they all replied.
THE TWO SPIES. 229

Then Earl Sweyn the Silent opened his lips
and spoke.

“Methinks,” said he, “that as to the expe-
dition against Bute, those who have most suffered
by the atrocities committed by the young strip-
ling lord of that isle should have the power to
fulfil their own vengeance upon him. And |
for one, your Majesty, will not rest content unless
I be of those who are to invade his lands. With
his own hand young Kenric of Bute slew a full
score of the children of Colonsay, and in just
revenge would I massacre with my own hands
the children of Bute. No child shall escape our
swords. We will slay every one, ay, even to
the babe at the breast. We will raze every
dwelling to the ground. And even their churches
and their holy men shall not escape!”

On hearing these words Kenric waited not to
learn more. He already knew enough, and his
heart beat furiously in dread alarm. For a
moment he felt impelled to take his sword and
strike down the man who had last spoken; but
the danger of revealing himself to those warriors
was too great, and touching Aasta on the arm
he drew her away.

Together they crept pale to the ravine, found
their difficult way into the cave, and regaining
their boat returned to Bute by the same way
that they had left it.
230 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

At daybreak on the following morning the
fiery cross—the Highlanders’ summons to arms
—was sent round to every dwelling in Bute.
Allan Redmain was despatched to Arran to
warn Sir Piers de Currie. Other boatmen were
sent on a like errand to Toward, Dunoon, Largs,
and all other villages and castles upon the banks
of the Clyde, while a special messenger was
sent into Scotland to warn King Alexander.
For three days and nights there was not a man
in Bute who was not occupied in some fashion
in preparing to meet the expected enemy.

CHAPTER XXIII.

THE INVASION OF BUTE.

oe awful words that he had heard spoken

by Earl Sweyn of Colonsay impressed
Kenric with a terrible fear, and his knowledge
of the overwhelming force of ships and men at
the command of the Norse king assured him
that the threatened invasion of Bute was no
idle boast. Not for his own castle of Rothesay
did he fear, although he would defend his fortress
to the end. The thought of the terrible venge-
ance that was about to fall upon Bute on account
THE INVASION OF BUTE. 231

of the bad work of the wild Scots of Galloway
was a matter for far graver consideration.

On his return from Gigha he passed many
hours pacing the great hall of his castle, racking
his brain to discover a means whereby he might
protect the lives of the women and children who
were under his care. He remembered how, on
the day of his throning, those children had stood
at the verge of the court to receive his blessing
and to kiss his hand, and his heart bled at the
thought that any of these little ones should be
in danger.

At last, after much hard thinking, he put on
his sword and ordered his pony to be bridled.
Then he rode south to the abbey of St. Blane’s.
Calling to the good abbot he bade him open the
chapel and let him enter. There the young
king threw himself down before the altar and
fervently prayed to God for help in his hour o1
need, asking for the power to save the children
from the wrath of their enemies. And in the
quiet of that holy place God’s spirit entered into
his heart and he felt strong. So when he had
finished his prayers the abbot, hearing him,
said:

‘“My son, have faith, and our Father will give
you His help. And now, tell me, I beseech
you, what means you foresee of saving our
people from the swords of our enemies?”
232 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

And Kenric said:

“ Holy father, it is by your help that I hope
to do this thing. This day will -I send into
your grange all the meal and flour that now lie
in my granaries at Rothesay, and you shall store
it away in secret places. Ere the sun sets this
night every woman and bairn now alive in Bute
shall be brought to the abbey, and they shall
live here, guarded by a band of our best men-at-
arms.”

“But, my son,” objected the abbot, “is not
your own castle a far stronger and safer refuge?”

“Tt may well be that it is stronger, my father,”
said Kenric; “but since it is the first place that
our enemies will make for, ‘tis not more safe
than the abbey, which would be the last place
that Christian men would attack.”

“You speak wisely there,” said the father;
“but still do I doubt your wisdom in seeking
to gather so many women and children together
in one defenceless place. How will it be if our
enemies forget the sanctity of this refuge, and
discovering our children assail them all in the
mass? Better it were, methinks, to let each
family remain in their own home, for thus dis-
tributed over the island some, if not all, must
surely escape.”

“Father,” said Kenric, “it is not without
reason that I propose this course, and the two
THE INVASION OF BUTE, 233

years that I passed under the care of the holy
brethren of the abbey gave me some teaching
of a practical sort. Wist you not that under
this very chapel there isa strong, large chamber?
And wist you not also that connected with that
chamber there is a long vault running a full four
furlongs underground, even unto the inclosed
space that the men of Bute name the Circle of
Penance?”

“ Even so, my lord,” said the abbot; “and now
do I well understand your plan. ‘It is in that
underground passage that you would have our
helpless people take refuge. Send me, then, a
score of your men to make timely preparation
and I will gladly receive the innocents into my
care. God grant that we may be able to protect
them, even at the cost of our own lives.”

“Amen,” said Kenric, and then he rode away.

Taking the green road that led westward, he
stopped at every farmstead and cottage by the
way and there bade all the women, from the
aged crone to the young damsel, repair to the
abbey of St. Blane’s, taking with them all their
children,

Soon he reached Kilmory Castle, where he
had counsel with Sir Oscar and Allan Redmain
concerning the protection of their fortress. It
was probable that the enemy would land upon
the western side of the island, but lest they
234 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

should determine to make their first attack upon
Rothesay it was deemed wise that Sir Oscar
and Kenric should each defend his own castle,
and that he who first descried the invaders from
afar should send word of their approach to his
neighbour. Being assured that Kilmory was
well guarded, and prepared to offer a strong
resistance, Kenric asked to see Ailsa Redmain.
Ailsa was in the fields.

“ Ailsa,” said he when he had found her,
“you have heard of the great danger that
threatens our island?”

“Who is there in all Bute that hath not
already heard it, my lord?” said she. ‘Ah,
would that I were a man that I might be of
some service at this time!”

“Tt needs not that you should be a man,
Ailsa, to be of very great service, and I will ask
your help. You are no longer a child, and well
do I know what wisdom there is in you. I
would trust you in all things to act wisely.”

Then dismounting and standing at her side
he told her how the women and children were
to be taken to St. Blane’s.

‘The Norsemen may arrive,” he said, “even
before another day be gone, and passing up
Kilbrannan Sound they will doubtless make
landing near your father’s castle, where it were
most unwise in you to remain. Go, therefore,
THE INVASION OF BUTE. 235

to the abbey and make what womanly prepar-
ations may be needful. There will my mother
join you. With her and you do I intrust the
children of Bute, so that you may minister to
their comforts until the danger be past. You
shall not lack help, but ’tis well that there be
some womanly authority whose word may be
held as law in case of need. And now, Ailsa,
since it may be that we shall never meet again
in this world, fare you well!”

Then as he was about to remount he saw the
tears gather in the girl’s eyes, and he put his
arms about her neck and drew her to him.

“Ailsa,” he murmured, “never till this moment
did I know how dear you are to me! But now
when death faces me—when another day may
see me slain—the thought of you, my playmate,
my dear friend, my loved Ailsa, makes life on
earth more precious. God watch between us in
our danger. The holy Mother protect you, and
on earth or in Heaven grant that we may meet
again!”

Then holding her near him he touched her
white brow with his lips and left her sadly.

Passing across the meadows of Kilmory he
found Lulach the herd-boy. Lulach was in
great terror at knowing that the Norsemen were
expected, for though he was himself by blood
and nature a Norseman, and was wont to speak
236 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

their tongue rather than the Gaelic, yet he looked
upon the Scots as his friends and upon every
Norseman as his enemy. He was not trained
in the use of warlike weapons, and it seemed to
Kenric that he would be of little use. But
Kkenric stationed him upon the heights and bade
him keep constant watch upon the sea, ready to
sound the alarm on the enemy’s approach.

Night and day did the lad stand upon those
heights overlooking Kilbrannan Sound, and on
the third day he saw appearing a squadron of
six ships with many gay flags flying and the
armour of countless warriors glinting in the
sunlight. The largest of the galleys sailed in
advance, bearing the viking’s flag, and having
an array of knights and soldiers upon her decks
and many archers at her prow.

Lulach ran in terror to Kilmory Castle, and
straightway Sir Oscar Redmain prepared to
meet the coming foe.

Lulach was then to have hastened to St.
Blane’s; but he thought he had yet time to run
down and warn old Elspeth Blackfell, who had
steadfastly refused to take the protection offered
her in the chapel vaults, saying that she had a
safe refuge of her own—though where that
refuge was none sought to know. Lulach fol-
lowed her down to the little point of land that
juts out into St. Ninian’s Bay.
THE INVASION OF BUTE. 237

Now it chanced that it was in that same bay
that the invaders landed, and before Lulach could
escape, the first ship was close upon the shore.

The first man to spring into the water and
wade to land was the great pirate Rudri. See-
ing Elspeth standing near, leaning upon her
long staff, he accosted her.

‘What, ho! thou witch of Satan!” he cried
in thundering voice. ‘Speak, crone, your life
is yours if you but tell me truly, by your sooth,
the thing that I shall ask.”

“Thou godless man, stand back!” cried
Elspeth, seeing him draw his sword as though
to slay her.

“ Nay, tell me of your sooth—for I do believe
you are a very witch—tell me, what shall the
issue of this invasion be? Speak, thou vile
hag! lest I release your black soul over soon!”

Elspeth stretched out her shrivelled arms and
dropped her staff. Then she turned to the
pirate and answered him. Her voice came hard
and shrill from between her withered lips.

“Since thou wouldst know,” she said, “the
things that shall be, hear this, oh Rudri, that he
shall be defeated upon whose side the first blood-
drop is spilled!”

A heavy silence fell after her words. It was
broken by a loud laugh from the pirate’s deep
throat.
238 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

“Be it as thou wilt,” he cried. But Elspeth
in that moment snatched a dagger from her
girdle, and gathering her strength she made a
lunge with it at the man’s broad chest. The
weapon turned upon the strong armour that he
wore, and, unhurt, he caught her by the wrist,
raising his sword.

Now Elspeth had spoken in the Danish, and
the chieftain, remembering her wordsof prophecy,
and, it may be, thinking that she was of the
Norse folk, lowered his weapon and flung the
old woman away from him. Then seeing Lulach
limping away, and taking him to be a Scot, he
ran after the lad, eager that the first blood should
be that of one born in Bute. Catching Lulach
by the long hair he speedily slew him.

“Tis done!” said Rudri when he saw that the
lad was dead. ‘And now have we forestalled
our enemies and assured to ourselves the vic-
tory. On, on, my men!” he cried, turning to
his followers. “The first blood of our enemies
hath been spilled! On! on! the victory is
sure!”

One by one the ships dropped anchor in the
bay, and from each there poured a vast number
of warriors carrying bows and battle-axes, swords
and spears. Behind their leaders, the terrible
Rudri and the king of Man, they: marched up-
ward to the castle of Kilmory.
THE INVASION OF BUTE. 239

“Spare not!” cried Rudri, flourishing his
sword. ,

“Death to the traitor of Bute, the slayer of
our children!” cried Sweyn of Colonsay.

“On, on, men of Jura!” croaked Erland the
Old.

“ Down with the Scots!” thundered Magnus
of Man.

From the topmost towers of his castle Sir
Oscar Redmain watched the hosts advance.
Nearer and yet nearer they came.

“Steady, my lads, and take good aim,” he
said coolly as he fixed an arrow to his bow-string.
“Now!” he cried, and as the enemy came with-
in bow-shot a shower of well-aimed arrows met
them, and many men fell. The shields of their
companions bristled with the arrows whose flight
they had stopped. But the long-haired warriors
pressed on to the castle gates, behind which
stood Allan Redmain with half the garrison at
his back.

From the hilltop of Barone, Aasta the Fair
had watched the ships approaching from afar,
and at the moment of first seeing them she
clashed a flint and steel and promptly lighted
a bundle of dry twigs and straw. The signal
fire was seen from Rothesay, and at once Earl
Kenric, at the head of fivescore of men, marched
across the island towards Kilmory. But so
240 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

quickly had the invaders landed, so speedily had
they stormed the stronghold, that ere Kenric
and his followers appeared upon the heights, the
castle of Kilmory was in flames. .

The Norsemen, taking their machines to the
rear, had stormed the building at its weakest
point. The heavy missiles from their shot-
wagons soon succeeded in making a breach.
Then a detachment of Rudri’s men brought
sheaves of new-cut corn and bundles of hay
from the stackyard, and flinging them within
the breach set them in flames. The stout walls
of oak very soon caught fire, and Sir Oscar
Redmain and his archers on the towers speedily
found themselves inclosed in clouds of smoke.
Their cries as they ran down the inner stairs
and discovered the awful fate that awaited them
were terrible to hear.

From the rear of the castle the Norsemen
brought round their machines to the gates, and
with their heavy battering-rams they burst in
the strong doors. Some of Allan Redmain’s
men rushed out, only to be cut down by the
warriors who awaited them. Twice did Allan
call to his guards to follow him and cut their
way through the barrier of swords and spears,
and twice were they driven back into the burn-
ing castle. A third attempt was made. Allan
valiantly encountered his foes, who now gave
THE INVASION OF BUTE. 24.1

way, for at that moment they were attacked in
their rear by the men of Rothesay.

In the ranks of the Norsemen, Kenric espied
Earl Sweyn of Colonsay.

“Traitor! slayer of my people’s children!”
cried Sweyn, pressing forward. “Let me at you
that I may smite you to the earth!”

Kenric stood on guard. Sweyn raised his
heavy battle-axe; but, before he could strike,
Kenric so wounded him on the shoulder that he
dropped his weapon. Then a crowd of men
pressing in between, separated them.

For an hour’s time the skirmish continued,
Kenric and Allan Redmain fighting side by side.
But meanwhile the Norse leader, Rudri, had
called off the larger number of his men to the
ships, leaving but a few score behind under
Sweyn of Colonsay and another.

In the thick of the fight Duncan Graham
sought his master’s side.

“Back, back, my lord!” he cried, “Back to
the castle of Rothesay! The ships have already
left the bay. In two hours’ time they will be
round at Rothesay!”

Kenric then rallied his men and charged his
foes most vigorously, and those who were not
cut down took to flight. Earl Sweyn, retreating
towards the hill of Quien with twoscore of his

followers took ambush until the men of Rothe-
746) Q
242 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

say had left Kilmory. Then, full of angry ven-
geance and intent upon slaughter, he led his
small troop northward. Every cottage and
farmstead that he could find he entered. But
not in one of them did he discover man, woman,
or child. The men were all under arms. The
women and children were all in the safe refuge
of the vaults of St. Blane’s.

Allan Redmain, finding that it was vain to
attempt to save his father’s castle, remained for
a time upon the scene of ruin and devastation.
His father, Sir Oscar, had been slain by an
arrow, and his body was devoured by the flames.
When Allan had tended the wounded, both foes
and friends, he took six of his best men-at-arms
with him, and by devious ways marched south
to St. Blane’s, there to remain on guard with
three hundred others, whom Kenric had stationed
at various points in the vicinity of the abbey.

CHAPTER XXIV

THE SIEGE OF ROTHESAY CASTLE.

ITH the loss of twelve men slain and
twenty wounded in the skirmish at Kil-
mory, Kenric returned to his castle, and there
THE SIEGE OF ROTHESAY CASTLE. 243

completed his preparations to resist the invaders.
He had drawn off his ships. Three of them
were anchored in Dunagoil Bay, with many
fishermen and husbandmen—untrained in battle
—ready at hand in case Allan Redmain required
them. A thousand men-at-arms were within the
castle, while a band of the best archers were
stationed on the battlements. Along the shore-
line from Rothesay to Ardbeg five hundred
archers were in ambush, and beyond Ardbeg,
in the bay of Kames, lay four galleys of war,
well equipped—ready to dash out upon the
enemy as they passed, and, if possible, frustrate
the landing of their forces.

The castle of Rothesay was so situated that
it commanded a long view of the waters through
which the enemy’s ships must approach from the
north of the island. The fortress, which was
constructed of stone, had been built in the year
1098 by Magnus Barelegs, king of Norway, who
lived in Bute for three years. It was a circular
building, 150 feet in diameter. The walls were
nine feet thick and forty feet high, flanked by
four round towers. As a fortification it was ill
designed, even upon ancient principles. Though
stronger than any other in all the Western Isles,
it had neither moat nor drawbridge. Even the
gate, though it was of strong oak, lined with
iron bars, was ill protected. It was neither
244. THE THIRSTY SWORD.

flanked nor machicolated, and it might have

‘been mined or assaulted at any point. The
enemy could approach under the walls without
fear of being annoyed by showers of boiling lead
or tar, and, if they kept close in, neither could
arrows reach them with any certain aim.

But on the castle’s heights there had been
collected many tons weight of missile weapons,
with machines for throwing them. One of these
machines was a Norse skotvagn or shooting
truck. It was made like a wagon, mounted on
a pair of wheels. At its back end was a long
shaft with an open box at its extremity. This
box had to be loaded with heavy stones. Fixed
to the axle of the wagon were two chains, one
at either side, so strong as to be able to suddenly
check and hold the carriage when it was running
full tilt down a planked incline. As soon as the
chains arrested its race, it would shoot out its
load on those below. It was always best to load
it with stones of different sizes.

Kenric was engaged in giving a last attention
to this shot-truck, when, from the heights of the
battlements, he saw the figure of Aasta the Fair
running towards the castle from the northward.
It vexed him much to see the wild girl thus
exposed to the dangers that might soon overtake
her, and he bade Dovenald, the old bard, go
down and unfasten the postern that she might
THE SIEGE OF ROTHESAY CASTLE. 24.5

enter. Duncan Graham had already been sent
south to the abbey.

‘How happens it, Aasta, that you went not
to St. Blane’s as you were advised?” Kenric
asked, when he met her in one of the lower
corridors.

“My lord,” said she, “I went but to the hill
of Kilbride to watch the ships in their passage
through the Kyles, and I judge that they will
be here in the space of another hour. As I came
backward through Glen More I saw a band
of men with Sweyn of Colonsay ravaging the
farmsteads and setting them in flames. Twelve
cottages did I pass that had been razed to the
ground. The saints be praised, all our people
are safe! But oh, my lord, Lulach, Lulach is
slain! He was the first to fall.’

“ Lulache”

“Yes, and more. Know ye who slew him?
It was even the man of whom we heard speech
in Gigha, Rudri the Rover.”

“Since Lulach is dead, what boots it who
slew him, Aasta? ’Tis but the misfortune of
war,” said Kenric, turning away.

“Wait, my lord,” said she, holding him back.
“Methinks you do not know this Rudri. But
Elspeth Blackfell took little time to discover
that much. The man Rudri is none other than
he who so basely slew your father and overcame
246 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

my lord Alpin in combat. Rudri the Rover is
none other than Roderic MacAlpin!”

Kenric drew back amazed. ‘‘ Roderic Mac-
Alpin!” he exclaimed. ‘The saints protect us!
Ah, simpleton that I have been to have faith
that that villain ever meant to keep to his vows!
And this is how he went on the pilgrimage! and
all these months, while we have fondly believed
that he was serving the Cross, he has but been
serving his own ambitious ends! It was he, then,
who led the Norsemen to Gigha! It was he
who besought King Hakon to let him make the
invasion of Bute, that he might murder our chil-
dren and lay waste our lands—that he might
claim the dominion he covets! But by my
father’s soul he shall yet fail!”

Then Kenric unsheathed his sword, and
solemnly swore upon the cross of its hilt that
never should that weapon leave him until either
himself or Roderic the Outlaw lay dead.

The story of Roderic since the time of his
quitting the isle of Bute may soon be told.

Scarce had he passed the rock of Ailsa Craig
ere he had resolved to break his vows of penance
and go his own chosen ways. Sailing south-
ward in the English salt-ship, he was still upon
familiar waters. He lay quiet for three days,
recovering from his wounds; then, when the
vessel was abreast of the Isle of Man, he for-
THE SIEGE OF ROTHESAY CASTLE. 247

cibly took the helm, and drawing his sword,
threatened the life of any man who dared ap-
proach him, and he steered the ship into the
haven of Peel-town. There he landed among
the descendants of the Norse King Orry, and
seeking out his friend Magnus, who was the lord
and monarch of that land, with him he lived for
many months, until on a time there came a mes-
sage from Hakon of Norway, bidding King
Magnus set forth with his ships of war to the
Western Isles. When the Manx ships joined
Hakon’s navy at Skye, Roderic the Rover was
welcomed above all other chiefs, and he offered
that the isle of Gigha should be made the head-
quarters of the forces, from which they might
easily swoop down upon Bute and Arran, and
thence invade the mainland of Scotland.

“ Methinks, my lord,” said old Dovenald, as
he stood with Kenric and Aasta, “that this out-
law will not now be satisfied until he hath com-
passed your death. Forget not, I implore you,
that you alone stand between him and _ his
ambitions. It would go ill with us all if he
should succeed, and methinks ’twere well that
you took timely refuge where he could not find
you.”

“My lord,” said Aasta, “ what Dovenald says
is but wisdom; and now, if you would take safe
hiding, I know of a little cave above the shores
248 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

of Ascog Bay wherein you might be secure from
all discovery.”

‘What? and would you counsel me to shrink
from meeting this man? No, no, my friends.
I am no craven, and it is not thus that I will
desert my post. Here do I stand to defend our
stronghold; and while I have a drop of blood
in my body so long will I fight.”

Soon from the battlements the six ships’ of
Roderic were seen emerging from the Kyles of
Bute, and as they passed Ardmaleish Point, the
four galleys of Rothesay dashed out from the
bay of Kames, and encountered the enemy.
They met him with a rain of well-aimed arrows
and showers of missiles. The two ships of
Roderic and King Magnus shot ahead, leaving
their four consorts behind to engage broadside
to broadside with the vessels of Bute, and there
followed a terrible sea-fight hand to hand—
Scots broadsword against Norse battle-axe—
that lasted many hours, until the vessels of both
sides, much damaged, and with the loss of four-
score of men and more, found themselves drifted
into Rothesay Bay.

From the towers, as he watched the opening
of the fight, Earl Kenric espied a band of men
marching upon Rothesay from the northward.
They were the men of Colonsay, led by Earl
Sweyn, who had been reinforced by fifty men
THE SIEGE OF ROTHESAY CASTLE. 249

from the ships. It was this band whom Aasta
had seen setting the deserted homesteads in
flames. Sweyn was now bending his course
upon Rothesay village. But, as he came within
bow-shot, Kenric and his archers were ready.
Kenric took careful aim and bent his bow as he
had never bent it before. Swiftly the arrow
sped with whizzing noise, and it curved in its
flight, dropping lower and lower until it dived
deep into the bare throat of the Earl of Colonsay.
As Sweyn fell, his men saw that the dart had
pierced through his neck even to the back of
his collar-bone, and, enraged at the loss of their
master, they ran yet farther. But one by one
they staggered and fell, each with an arrow
quivering in his broad chest, and those who
remained alive took flight beyond range.

And now Kenric turned to watch the ships
of Magnus and Roderic, which, with the galley
of John of Islay in their wake, were now well
within the bay. Driven by their long-sweeping
oars, they crept shoreward until their peaked
bows grounded in the shallows. The warriors
then swarmed over the bulwarks and dropped
into the water, wading breast-deep to the beach.
KXenric’s bowmen from the battlements and from
the rising ground above the shore began to assail
the bold invaders. But, little daunted, the Norse-
men fanded in great numbers, taking ashore
250 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

their besieging engines and various instruments
of war.

Then might be seen stones, arrows, quarrels,
and other missiles to fly among them, and so
effectively did those within the castle exchange
their tokens with those without that in one short
hour there were many scores of persons wounded,
and I know not how many killed. The heaviest
of the besieging engines were worked in throw-
ing massive stones, which could be got in plenty
and of every size upon the shingly beach. And
when there was a good hit, a great shout arose
among the invading host. Many shot-wagons
and three other machines were brought by the
enemy—very large, of great power, and very
destructive—which might be thought to cut
down and crush whatever their missiles struck.
But the walls of Rothesay Castle were strong
and thick, and the stones that struck them only
shivered into a thousand fragments.

Many a well-directed arrow did he of Rothesay
receive, but he placed before him his great white
shield with a red cross engrailed. With his head
protected by a strong brass helm, and his chest
with a well-wrought coat of mail, he escaped all
hurt. Nor did he lose courage, but cheered his
men lustily as though it were but a boy’s game

‘he was playing. But ever he kept his watchful
eye upon the Norsemen, eager to pick out the
THE SIEGE OF ROTHESAY CASTLE. 251

tall figure of his uncle and dreaded foe Roderic.
Not once but many times did he see him stand-
ing with a dozen of his companions directing the
siege. Kenric many times took up his long-bow
and sent his arrow-shafts swiftly towards the
heart of his enemy. Roderic was clothed in
complete armour, and though many of his
nephew’s arrows struck him, yet they but broke
upon his breastplate and fell shivered to his feet.
For four long hours the battle continued, and
at Kenric’s side many brave men lay dead. On
the plain before the castle sevenscore of Norse-
men lay slain. Then, as the sun went down,
and the evening clouds brought heavy rain, the
enemy retired to their ships. By this time the
three vessels that had been engaged with the
ships of Bute were drawn alongside their con-
sorts, and Kenric’s four galleys had sailed out
to sea, so that in the cover of darkness they
might approach under the abbey of St. Blane’s,
and give ready succour should the enemy dis-
cover the retreat of the women and children.
Early in the morning the whole of Roderic’s
forces landed, and now they stormed the castle
gates with all their strength. So stoutly did
they assail them with their powerful battering-
rams that in the space of an hour the doors fell
in with a loud crash. In the wide hall stood
Kenric with his sword in hand. Behind him
252 : THE THIRSTY SWORD.

were ranked a good three hundred fighting men.
In their midst was the maid Aasta the Fair,
wearing, as all the men wore, a coat of mail and
a brass head-piece. In firm ranks they all stood
with pikes and spears aslant to meet the inrush
of valiant Norsemen.

The first man whom Kenric encountered was
Erland the Old of Jura. Enraged to see this
man, who had taken hospitality in the castle, now
helping to storm it, he fought with his full
strength and felled him with one blow. Cutting
his way through the ranks of his foes he at last
reached the fallen gates. But nothing did he
yet see of Roderic. Many men did he kill, for
none could stand against the terrible onslaught
of his great sword. And ever at his side, fight-
ing with fearless courage, was Aasta the Fair,
and of the foemen a full half dozen did she slay
with her sword, for she was most powerful of
arm and feared not the sight of blood.

Well might Kenric seek in vain for the
towering helm of Roderic. For even as the
gates gave way that warrior, with Magnus of
Man, had taken off a body of their Manxmen
to the west postern. This little door, which,
as Roderic well knew, was the weakest point in
all the castle, they assailed with their ponderous
battle-axes, and never did smith with his hammer
strike his iron as Roderic struck there. While
THE SIEGE OF ROTHESAY CASTLE. 253

Kenric and his chosen men-at-arms were fighting
against those who were pressing in by the main
gates, Roderic thus gained an entrance into the
castle. He slew with his own hand a full score
of the garrison and passed over their dead bodies
up the stone stairs. Ina little time thereafter he
stood upon the battlements, where Dovenald
and his companions of the bow were showering
their arrows upon the invaders without the walls.
There, cutting down old Dovenald in a most
cruel fashion, Roderic tore down the honoured
red lion of Scotland and hoisted in its stead the
blue and white falcon of the Norseman. This
done, he returned with his many followers to the
hall and charged upon the men of Rothesay in
their rear.

Kenric, placed thus between two strong com-
panies of his enemies, was taken at a sore disad-
vantage. He felt that the men about him were
falling on every side. Soon those without the
gates gave way, and the men of Bute were fairly
driven out of the castle at the spear’s point.
Then Kenric and a few of his body-guard, not
knowing what had happened, and believing that
the stronghold was still in the hands of their
own garrison, pursued the retreating Norsemen
to the ships. On the beach a vigorous engage-
ment took place.

The Norsemen scrambled on board from one
254 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

vessel to its companions alongside. Kenric,
followed by Aasta and a crowd of their Scots,
waded deep into the water, still pressing behind
the men of Juraand Islay. They even climbed
upon the first galleys’ decks, and there stood
fighting for many minutes.

In the midst of this battling Kenric observed
the viking’s flag flying above the battlements.
He called his men off the ships, and as they
returned to the castle Roderic and some of his
warriors passed round by the rear of the build-
ing and regained their vessels. The galleys
were then pushed off into the deeper water, and
not till they were afloat did Kenric realize that
he had not for some minutes seén the brave girl
Aasta. In truth, the maiden was at that time
struggling on board one of the galleys with
Roderic the Outlaw, who soon disarmed her
and thrust her as a captive into the cabin of
one of his ships.

Kenric returned to his castle, only to find that
it had fallen entirely into the hands of the enemy,
who had put the remainder of the garrison to
the sword.

Utterly defeated, but himself scarcely wounded,
the young lord of Bute rallied what men he
could and drew them off to the high ground
where Roderic had stood. The arrows of a few
Norsemen from the battlements pursued him,
THE SIEGE OF ROTHESAY CASTLE. 255

and seeing that there was now no chance of
regaining possession of his stronghold, he could
only think of the safety of his people and try to
protect them from the ravages of the victors.
The villagers of Rothesay had already deserted
their homes, which so far had remained un-
molested, though sadly battered about by stray
stones and other missiles.

And now did Kenric fully see the wisdom of
what he had done in securing his helpless
islanders under the safe-keeping of the abbot
of St. Blane’s. Had he advised them to take
refuge in the castle they would assuredly have
fallen victims to the wanton swords of their
enemies. Had he failed to act with prompt
foresight upon the information gained in Gigha,
the men of Colonsay, with other vengeful
warriors, would have massacred every woman
and child in the island, for such was assuredly
their intent. Happily they had found every
dwelling unoccupied, with its more valued con-
tents safely removed; and though they had
indeed brought many of those homesteads to
the ground, yet the lives of the inhabitants were
still secure.

It now remained for Kenric to assure himself
that no prowling Norseman should by chance
discover the place of refuge of those who had
so timely abandoned their homes; and to this
256 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

end he bade his remaining followers make
pretence of taking shelter in the forest of Barone,
whence they might move unobserved by the
enemy to the south of the island and so guard
the abbey of St. Blane’s.

CHAPTER XXV.
THE GREAT NORSE INVASION.

T were vain to look for good generalship in
a time so remote as that of the reign of
Alexander III. Wallace and Bruce had not
yet appeared to teach the Scots the advantage
of united action, and the methods of warfare
were still of an unmilitary kind. Battles were
little better than mere free fights, without order,
without controlling discipline, without precon-
certed plan. It may be that Kenric of Bute
might, with a little more forethought in the
disposal of his forces, have saved his castle from
the hands of his enemies. But a lad of seven-
teen, with no better counsellors than a few
peaceful men such as Sir Oscar Redmain and
the Abbot Thurstan—-men inexperienced in the _
arts of war, and ill qualified to repel an invader
or hold a castle against a siege—what could he
do? Sir Oscar Redmain was killed in the first
THE GREAT NORSE INVASION. 257

engagement. The abbot was sufficiently oc-
cupied with the protection of his church lands,
and the one skilful soldier who could have
organized the defences—Sir Piers de Currie—
was even now defending his own castle of
Ranza against the forces of Margad.

Nevertheless, the manner in which Kenric
defended the sacred buildings of St. Blane’s
redeemed the mistakes he had committed in a
too great division of his forces at Rothesay.

He protected the abbey lands from a possible
approach of the enemy from the sea by station-
ing six of his ships, fully manned, at regular
intervals along the south coast of the island from
Glencallum Bay to the bay of Dunagoil. Thus
disposed, the vessels formed a half-circle round
the abbey and its demesnes. At Dunagoil he
stationed a guard of five hundred men under
Allan Redmain, with a like number in Glen-
callum, under Duncan Graham, ready at a
moment’s warning to form a connection across
the neck of land. Within the walled inclosure
known as the Circle of Penance, standing mid-
way between these two stations, were two
hundred other men under Kenric himself. Thus
the abbey and its grange with some forty cottages
were entirely surrounded.

The abbey with its chapel was a small build-
ing in the Norman style, inclosed by a high

(746) R
258 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

wall, and standing in a grove of birch and ash
trees. In the crypt of the chapel and within
the cottages the women of Bute, some hundreds
in number, had made their retreat, and the Lady
Adela of Rothesay had a most anxious four days
attending to her numerous charges. Food there
was in plenty, of a simple sort, and the wells
within the abbey buildings. provided abundance
of pure water. In the underground passage
connecting the crypt with the walled inclosure
of the Circle of Penance the children had been
collected. Ailsa Redmain was with them,
attending to their many wants, helped by some
of the women.

All this had been Kenric’s doing, and to him
would be due the praise and the thanks of the
people of Bute if his plan of defence should
succeed. But Kenric was not at his ease, for
he knew that should the Norsemen set aside
thoughts of the sanctity of the place and make
a successful descent upon the abbey, then surely
the women and children would be discovered
and an appalling massacre might follow. Little
cared he for the loss of his castle and lands;
little thought he of the value of his own young
life. His one purpose was to make a strong
defence and to save his people, for whose sakes
there was nothing he would not dare to do.

And now his most earnest wish was to know
THE GREAT NORSE INVASION. 259

whether the enemy would make their attack by
sea or by land. He was equally prepared for
either course.

It was wearing towards sundown, and yet
there were no signs. The castle of Rothesay
had been taken before noon. Where now were
the enemy? At last Elspeth Blackfell came to
Kenric, who stood with the abbot within the
thick walls of the inclosure.

“My lord,” said she, “I hear the tread of
many feet. It is by land they come. Oh, that
I knew where my sweet Aasta hath gone, and
if she be still in life!”

‘Father,’ said Kenric to the abbot, “ will
you now do as I propose?”

“What would you, my son?” asked the abbot.

“Tt is that you would now go without these
walls and boldly face our enemies, holding before
you the crucifix. If Roderic be their leader, it
may be that the sight of you will move him toa
sense of the holiness of this place, and haply you
may by your arguments turn him aside from his
purpose. Were I to show myself—though,
indeed, I would willingly face that man and
fight with him to the death—he would be moved
to wrath, and, slaying me, he would not rest
any the more in his designs.”

“JT will adventure it, my son,” said the abbot
solemnly.
260 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

“God be with you, holy father,” added Kenric,
crossing himself.

“My lord,” said Elspeth, “think you that
Godfrey Thurstan can have power to move
Roderic in this wise? How was it when he
bade this man go upon the pilgrimage of
penance? Did Roderic then obey his holy
words? Not so. But there is one whose words
Roderic MacAlpin will indeed take to heart,
and that is your servant Elspeth. Let me then
go, my lord. Open the gates that I may go
forth and face this outlaw and his followers.
And if it be that he turn not back, then may the
massacre of our children rest upon my head.
Come, my lord abbot, let us then go together.”

Then some men removed the heavy stones
from the gate and the abbot and his aged
companion went forth to meet the advancing
forces.

Now as Roderic, at the head of his army,
marched upon St. Blane’s he could see nothing
of the defences that had been prepared. All
was in appearance peaceful as it had been when
as an innocent boy this pirate chief had gone in
the early mornings to say mass with the good
friars. Above the abbey the swallows lightly
flew. The blue hills of Arran were calm and
grand. The sea-gulls floated in mid-air above
the sea, and the autumn trees waved their
THE GREAT NORSE INVASION. 261

golden clusters in the breeze. From the chim-
neys of the abbey a thin film of smoke told only
of peace. There was nothing to show that
within the small space between him and Garroch
Head were collected together many hundreds
of islanders with anxiously beating hearts—
islanders whose happy homes had been laid
waste, and who now dreaded the moment that
might bring their death. Two figures alone
could Roderic see. These were the abbot
Godfrey and the old crone Elspeth Blackfell.

As the Norsemen advanced with clashing
arms and regular tread the abbot looked up in
seeming surprise, as though his meditations had
been suddenly disturbed. Then he paused in
his walk and turned to meet the dreaded foe.
Elspeth followed him. With loud voice Roderic
called out to his men to halt. Then alone he
went forward.

“What means all this that I see?” began the
abbot with trembling voice, ‘and how comes it,
Roderic MacAlpin, that I behold you here in
Bute with all this strange following? Infamous
man! Did you not but twelve short months
ago solemnly swear before God that you would
not set foot upon these shores again ere you had
spent three years of penance in the service of
the Most High. How come you here?”

Then Roderic smiled in derision.
262 THE THIRSTY SWORD

“How came I here? And wherefore should
I come if not to claim mine own? Wherefore
should I come if not to destroy the young cub
Kenric, who hath cruelly murdered many scores
of innocent dwellers in the isles. Mine own
have I already regained, for I have planted my
banner upon the towers of Rothesay, and no
man on earth shall now rob me of what I have
so hardly conquered. Two other things remain;
and then I go to make further conquests for my
sovereign king. I shall have young Kenric’s
blood, and I shall have my full revenge for the
injuries he has done to the people of Colonsay.
And now, my father, you will go down upon
your knees before me—for I am now your lord
and king and will be obeyed—and you shall tell
me truly where this young whelp Kenric is to
be found, that I may slay him.”

“Earl Kenric of Bute shall never be slain by
you, Roderic MacAlpin,” said Elspeth. ‘ For
though you follow him over half the world, as
you followed Rapp the Icelander, yet shall you
never draw one drop of blood from that brave
youth’s body!”

“And who shall stay me?” cried Roderic.
« By the mass, but you speak bold words, Dame
Elspeth!”

“7 will stay you!” cried Elspeth. ‘“ Your
right arm shall wither, your eyes shall grow
THE GREAT NORSE INVASION. 263

blind, your life’s blood shall turn to gall ere
you touch a hair of Earl Kenric’s head! Return
whence you came, bold outlaw. Go, ere it be
too late. Overmuch injury have you already
done in this land of your fathers. And do you
hope to rule in Bute—do you believe that there
is one man in all this land who would accept you
as his lord and master, and who would pay
homage to you, after the ills you have done?
Vain fool! be satisfied. Turn back to your
ships and ask of Heaven the forgiveness which
no man on earth will now accord you! Go,
Roderic MacAlpin!”

“ Miserable hag!” cried Roderic grasping his
sword. ‘And think you that I would lead my
brave men away ere they have had their full
revenge upon this stripling? No, no! Listen
now, how they cry for his blood! Hear how they
cry out for the children whom you have spirited
away! Elspeth Blackfell, you know where those
children are hidden, and by Saint Olaf you shall
now tell me where they are, or I will drive my
blade into your shrivelled carcase. Tell-me, I
say!”

“My lord Roderic,” said Elspeth, looking at
him with glittering eyes, “you have lost your
own two children. Do you still remember them?
Do you still remember their rosy cheeks, their
sweet blue eyes, their golden hair? Do you
264 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

still hear the music of their laughter as they
played among the pebbles on the beach? Ah,
it was a sad, sad day for you when they were
taken from you, my lord.”

“A sad day indeed, Elspeth,” echoed the sea-
rover, mechanically sheathing his sword, and
speaking in an altered voice that had a touch
of tenderness in it.

“And yet,” added Elspeth, “there lives in
Cowall one who might tell you what became of |
your little ones.”

“What? You tell me this! Who is that
man?”

“On one condition shall you know,” said
Elspeth. ‘Take your men away from Bute,
and no more seek to learn whither our women
and children are gone.” .

“Agreed,” said Roderic; “ for, believe me, ’tis
no wish of mine that the people of my own
lands should suffer. Tell me, who is this man?”

“When your followers are in their ships,”
said Elspeth, “when you are taking up your
anchors, then will I tell you, Lord Roderic.
And if you keep your word and leave us for
a time in peace, most assuredly you shall yet
learn more.”

Now Roderic, who was a man of iron, had
yet one soft place in his heart, and that was ever
touched when he thought of his lost children.
THE GREAT NORSE INVASION. 265

Doubtless Elspeth knew all this, and whether
it was true or false that she could give him the
word he wished, she at least succeeded in turn-
ing him away from St. Blane’s, and Kenric, half-
wishing to take his sword and slay him where
he stood, peeped above the wall where he and
his men were intrenched and saw the pirate
chief go up to his men and order them to turn
back to Rothesay.

In another hour thereafter, Roderic, having
left the castle in charge of one of his captains
and a full garrison of men, entered his ship and
with his other galleys sailed away on his expedi-
tion of plunder on the banks of the Clyde.

Being joined by other ships from Kintyre,
Islay, and Jura, together with the forces of Mar-
gad who had invaded and conquered the isle of
Arran, his armament now numbered sixty gal-
leys.. They took the castles of Dunoon and
Roseneath, and laid waste many villages and
farmsteads. Farther still they went, up the
waters of Loch Long, devastating the lands on
either side. At the head of Loch Long they
took their smaller ships and mounting them on
rollers made of the trunks of larch trees, they
dragged the vessels bodily over the neck of land
that lies between Arrochar and Tarbet, and
launched them on the great lake that is called
Loch Lomond.
266 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

Now on Loch Lomond there are many small
islands that were at that time thickly peopled,
and many Scots of the invaded earldom of
Lennox had taken refuge on those islands
when they heard that the Norsemen were
advancing. Their safeholds now became the
scenes of plunder and bloodshed, the islands
were wasted with fire, the shores of the beauti-
ful lake were completely ravaged, and the houses
on its borders burnt to the ground. After this,
Roderic and Magnus made an extended expedi-
tion into the rich county of Stirling, in which they
massacred great numbers of inhabitants, and re-
turned driving herds of cattle before them, and
loaded with booty.

During his voyage up the Clyde, Roderic had
paid little heed to the fair captive Aasta. But
when, triumphant and gloating, he returned to
the ships he had left in Loch Long, he discovered
that his prisoner had escaped, and he was very
wrathful, for, as he said, the maid was passing
fair, and he had been minded to take her back
with him to his castle. But no man could tell
him how the girl had escaped, or which way she
had fled.

Roderic, having filled his ships with plunder,
then set out for Kintyre, where he was to join
King Hakon. But entering the Clyde from
Loch Long, he encountered a terrible storm.
THE GREAT NORSE INVASION. 267

Ten of his vessels were completely wrecked,
and his own galley was forced to steer clear of
Bute, and take refuge behind the islands of
Cumbrae.

The measure of the Norwegian success was
now full. Hakon had gained possession of every
island, great and small, on the west of Scotland.
In the far north he had established his footing
not only in the Shetlands and Orkneys, but he
had made himself master of the whole county
of Caithness. In the south, Kintyre had been
unconditionally ceded to him by its timid lord.
Bute, Arran, and the Cumbraes had been con-
quered; the rich county of Lennox—one of the
most fruitful in Scotland—had been laid waste,
and on the outer coasts of the mainland the
Norsemen had planted their banner on many a
well-built castle. Hakon was now intent upon
conquering Scotland, so, gathering his whole
fleet of nearly two hundred ships, he sailed from
Gigha round the Mull of Kintyre, and anchored
in Kilbrannan Sound.

In the meantime King Alexander, having re-
ceived Kenric’s early warning of the coming of
the Norsemen, had with many Scots and Eng-
lish noblemen taken up his residence in Stirling
Castle, there to await further news.

One day in September he was out with a
hawking party upon the lands which, fifty years
268 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

afterwards, became known to the world as the
field of Bannockburn, when suddenly a most
beautiful maiden with blood-red hair threw her-
self before his horse.

“May it please your Majesty,” said she, “to
hear your servant's petition?”

‘“Who, then, are you, my pretty maid?” said
the King.

“T am a maid of Bute, your Majesty, and a
faithful vassal of my lord Earl Kenric of that
isle. And J have come to tell you that the
Norsemen have landed on your shores. They
have taken our castle of Rothesay. They have
harried your lands of Lennox. They are ap-
proaching upon Stirling. And oh, your Majesty,
of your mercy I implore you to give speedy suc-
cour to your injured subjects by driving this
enemy from our midst!”

‘How came you here?” asked the King.

‘‘T was carried off as a prisoner from Rothe-
say by the tyrant Roderic of Gigha, who hath
been sent by King Hakon to lay waste the
shores of the Clyde. He carried me as far as
Loch Long in his ship. But there I escaped
and found my way hither to inform your Majesty
of these disasters.”

“Roderic of Gigha?” echoed the King. ‘So,
ho, and ’tis he who hath taken Bute? By St.
Andrew, but he shall not long enjoy his con-


AASTA BRINGS NEWS OF THE INVASION TO THE KING.
THE GREAT NORSE INVASION. 269

quests. My lords,” he added turning to his
companions, ‘‘methinks the maid speaks truth.
Now turn we back to Stirling and cease this
sporting, for there are higher duties to perform.
Come, my lords, let us at once muster a goodly
army, and march against these bold sea-wolves
ere they have gone too far.”

But ere the king had time to do more than
learn the extent of the invasions; Roderic and
Magnus had returned to their ships. Alexander,
however, soon learned that Hakon himself had
entered the Clyde with his armaments, and
thereupon there ensued an interchange of mes-
sages between the two monarchs. A truce was
agreed upon until terms might be arranged. It
was the object of the King of Scots to so delay
negotiations, that every day might give him
more time to concentrate his army; and as the
autumn was drawing to a close, it brought the
Norwegians a nearer prospect of wreck and
disaster from the winter storms.

Alexander made such moderate demands that
it was apparent he was not fully prepared to
resist the fleet and army of Norway. He had
no standing army. He had never been engaged
in any warlike affair. He sent word to the
Norse king signifying that he would be content
to retain the mainland of Scotland and the is-
lands inclosed by it—Arran, Bute, and the two
270 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

Cumbraes—and it appears that he was willing to
have given up to Norway the whole of the isles
of the Hebrides. These terms, so advantageous
to Hakon, were, fortunately for Scotland, re-
jected. The proud master of the invading force
would give up nothing coming within his claims.
It then was observed that Alexander became
shy of further treating, and that a force was
gradually collecting upon the heights overlook-
ing the Cunningham coast.

Hakon then proposed that Alexander should
meet him, each at the head of his army, and treat
concerning a peace. If the attempt at negotia-
tion failed, then he would throw down the gaunt-
let from Norway and challenge the Scottish
monarch to debate the matter with his army in
the field, and let God, in His pleasure, determine
the victory.

Upon this Alexander, in no wise unwilling to
fight, pronounced the truce at an end, and war
was declared.

CHAPTER XXVI.

A TRAITOR KNAVE.

ARL KENRIC, on seeing the outlaw and
| his troops march back in the direction
of Rothesay, breathed a great sigh of relief.
a A TRAITOR KNAVE. 271

The people of Bute were so far safe; much
bloodshed had been avoided. The abbot and
Elspeth Blackfell had by their simple words
reversed the designs of an army. So when the
abbot returned into the walled inclosure, Kenric
took his hands and reverently kissed them.

“And now, holy father,” said he, “let us all
offer thanks to God for His great goodness at
this time of our need, for God alone can have
stayed the hands of these ruffians.”

Then the abbot and his friars stood before
the many children and moist-eyed women and
brawny islanders who crowded into the circle,
and all knelt down upon the grass. Never since
the gospel of Christ had been introduced into that
land had prayers been more fervently uttered.

In the midst of the prayers, Ailsa Redmain,
kneeling by Kenric’s side, suddenly touched
him on the shoulder, and pointed over towards
the Arran hills. There, in the direction of Ranza,
he saw a great column of black smoke rising in
the air.

“ Alas for Sir Piers de Currie!” he murmured,
and then again bent his head.

But when the prayers were said Kenric quickly
rose and climbed the thick wall, and running
with all speed to Dunagoil he ordered Allan
Redmain to take two ships over to Arran, for
that Sir Piers de Currie’s castle was in flames.
272 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

Not long were the two galleys in crossing the
sound. Entering Loch Ranza, they entrapped
three ships of the Norsemen that had been sent
against the castle while Margad their chief was
attacking the castle of Brodick on the eastern
side of the island. Attacking these ships, Allan
Redmain speedily put the Norse warriors to the
sword and took their vessels as prizes.

On the beach he found the gallant knight,
Sir Piers, standing in the light of the flames
that devoured his home. His wife and six chil-
dren were clinging to his side piteously weep-
ing. His castle was completely wrecked, and
as there was not another fit dwelling for many
miles around, Allan Redmain, having driven off
the enemies who were on shore, besought Sir
Piers to bring his family on board, and with
twelve brave men of Arran who had escaped,
he was taken over to St. Blane’s to such refuge
as there remained to him. The beautiful Lady
Adela and the Lady Grace de Currie fell into
each other’s arms, for in the hour of their ad-
versity they were as sisters.

At the time when Kenric was thus receiving
his neighbours of Arran, the men whom Roderic
had left in charge of the castle of Rothesay were
making merry over their victories. A dozen of
them, officers of the garrison, sat in the great
hall—the hall in which the good Earl Hamish
A TRAITOR KNAVE, 273

had met his death. On the bare board of the
table there lay a cooked haunch of venison, with
other viands that had been found in the buttery,
with many cakes of brown bread and drinking
horns filled with wine. For these men had not
been long in command ere they had broached
more than one wine cask with casks of other
liquors of a stronger sort, and they grew ever
more noisy and more boisterous, this one boast-
ing of how many dogs of Bute he had slain, and
that one vaunting that he had with his own hand
struck the stripling lord of the island to the
ground.

Often one of them would rise from the long
bench before the fire and maul the venison with
his blood-stained hands, turning it over this way
and that; then taking his sword, which had been
used that day for a very different purpose, he
would cut off a great slice of the: meat, and
spreading a layer of salt upon it, clap it between
two cakes of bread and sit down to enjoy the
food. In eating, drinking, and singing wild battle
songs, these warriors passed that evening, each
thinking himself a king. Some of the men were
wounded, but little did they seem to care; nay,
many a one even proudly displayed his bleeding
cuts, to prove how sorely bestead he had been
in the fight, and the man who had the greatest

show of wounds was looked upon almost with
(746) 8
274 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

envy. To be wounded was next to being slain,
and to be slain on the field of battle was the
most glorious death a man might die.

“Well, my brothers-in-arms,” at length said
one who appeared to be their captain, “‘'tis a
good day’s work that we have done. So let us
drink and be merry. Here’s waes-hzl to king
Rudri of Bute. Long life to him!”

Then the men took up their drinking-horns
and drank deep to the last drop. But two there
were who drank not at all, and they were men
of Colonsay.

“Why drink ye not with me?” growled the
captain, frowning.

“Because, Thorolf,” said one with flashing
eye, “I am but ill-content with the way that
Rudri broke his plighted word to us. When
we set out on this journey, was it that we should
but help him to gain his father’s island? No.
Did he not solemnly swear that he would give
us our full meed of vengeance upon the whelp
who massacred our children? And what man of
us has had that chance? Blood for blood, say I!”

“And so say I,” muttered his companion.
“ Methought when we came here that | should
have the chance of driving my spear into a full
halfscore of the children of Bute—that I might
have served them even as the stripling Kenric
served my little ones. Saint Olaf curse him!”
A TRAITOR KNAVE. 275

y

‘‘Jt baffles me,” said the first, ‘to know by
what means the women and children of this isle
have been spirited away. Not since we landed
yestermorn have I so much as seen a living child,
nor woman neither, saving only that old witch.”

“Ay, and the fighting maid who cut me this
wound across my pate,” added another. ‘ Me-
thinks this Kenric must surely have got wind of
our intention; but how that can be, what man
can tell?”

‘What then of the thing we found on the
moor of Gigha, after the council that King
Hakon held?” asked Thorolf the captain.
“What man would have slain the young Harald
of Islay if it were not some spy of Bute? The
lad was stabbed through the back; ‘twas in no
fair fight that he fell.”

“True,” said they all. “By St. Olaf, that is
surely so!”

“Could we find out in Rudri’s absence where
these babes and wives of Bute have been so
cunningly hidden,” said one of the men of
Colonsay, ‘methinks we might well pay out
both Rudri and young Kenric. What say you,
my bold brothers all?”

‘’Tis my belief,” said another, “that the old
witch who spoke to Earl Roderic had some
secret intention in turning us away from yon
chapel at the end of the island.”
276 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

At this the men were silent; but at last one
said:

“Td swear that it was even so. And what
say you all if we go thence this very night and
fall upon the chapel with fire and sword? Tis
a straight road from this, and easily found.”

At this moment there were footsteps in the
outer corridor. Three men entered, dragging
with them yet another who was bound with
ropes. Their prisoner was David Blair, the
farmer of Scalpsie. He had been captured,
hiding like a frightened cur, among the rocks
of Ascog.

The Norse captain, who could speak the
Gaelic, on learning who he was, commanded
him, on pain of instant death, to tell where
_ Kenric of Bute had taken the women and chil-
dren. The farmer hesitated a moment; then,
seeing the captain draw his sword, he gasped:

“Oh, spare me, spare me, my lord! Give me
but my life, and I will tell you all. I will tell you
where you may find these people, and how you
can get at them. But, since death is the pun-
ishment wherewith you threaten my silence, tell
me, then, what shall be my reward if I tell you
this you ask?”

The captain smiled grimly. Then in Danish
he said:

“You base inhuman craven! you ask what
A TRAITOR KNAVE. 277

reward I will give you? Methinks the only
fitting reward for such treachery were to have
a cauldron of boiling lead poured down your
guilty throat. Reward, forsooth!”

“Nay, but I cannot understand, my mas-
ter. I am but a poor Scot who knows not the
Norse tongue. Say, what reward do you pro-
mise?”

“Fear not, my man. You shall have your
deserts,” said the captain. ‘Tell me, now, or I
will even cut you down this instant where you
stand trembling.”

“ The families of Bute—men, women, bairns—
are all in the abbey of St. Blane’s,” said Blair.
“They are penned up like a vast flock of sheep
in the abbey and the chapel, in the chapel vaults,
and within the walls of the Circle of Penance.
There you will find them, with my lady Adela
of Rothesay, and young Kenric himself, and
Allan Redmain that murdered my poor dog—”

“Enough!” cried the captain sternly, “and
now for your reward.” Then turning to one of
the men who had brought in thecaptive, he added:
“ Hundi, this man is a traitor, and as a traitor
he must now be served. You will therefore
conduct him to the topmost towers of the castle,
and taking the rope that now binds him, you
will tie a shipman’s noose about his neck and
let him hang in mid-air, that the carrion crows
278 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

may taste the flesh of one of the meanest cow-
ards in the isles.”

Then, as the farmer was taken away to his
death, Thorolf the captain paced the floor
moodily, speaking not a word.

“What said this man, Thorolf?” asked one
of his comrades. ‘Come, tell us where we may
find these people.”

“That will I tell to no man!” said Thorolf
firmly, “and as I am captain here, these are my
orders: that if any man seek to discover where
these families are now harboured, or if any man
does aught to further molest the people of Bute,
he may expect a reward equal to that of the
traitor who has now gone to meet his deserved
death. There are ropes in Rothesay for all who
dare to disobey me!”

“ Coward!” muttered one of the men of Colon-
say, rising and passing out of the hall, “think
you that you alone could understand that man?
I heard his answer, and by my sword, I mean
to act upon it;” and thereupon they all stood up
and followed, taking their arms and leaving
Thorolf alone beside the fire.

Later on that evening, when Sir Piers de
Currie with the friars of St. Blane’s were sitting
quiet in the abbey refectory, when the Lady
Adela and the mothers of Bute were busy put-
ting the little ones to sleep, Earl Kenric was
A TRAITOR KNAVE. 279

walking to and fro in front of the gate of the
Circle of Penance. He carried his naked sword
in his arms, and he wore the heavy chain-armour
that had not been put aside for four long days.
He was very weary, for he had had a long day's
fighting, and no sleep had he known since the
night of his adventure in Gigha.

He was thinking now of all that had passed,
and of the many men, his companions and faith-
ful vassals, who now lay dead. Also he was
wondering what had become of the wild girl
Aasta. She had done many things for which he
owed her deep gratitude. Not only had she
given him the great sword of Somerled, with
which he had done so much in defence of his
people; but it was she who had warned him of
the coming of the enemy; it was she who had
gone over with him to Gigha, and made it pos-
sible for him to learn the plans of the Norsemen.
(She had there saved his life, though Kenric
knew it not.) It was she who had told him that
the great pirate Rudri was his own evil uncle
Roderic. He was accordingly much concerned
for her safety, and much troubled in his fear of
what had happened to her.

Suddenly, in the midst of his musing, someone
passed him like a rush of wind. In the dim
evening light he saw Ailsa Redmain.

“ Ailsa!” he cried, “where go you? Why do
280 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

you thus come out here where you know full
well that none but men may come?”

“My lord,” said she, “it is little Ronald
Campbell that I seek, and his sister Rachel.
We cannot find them, and they have not been
seen by anyone since evensong. Methinks they
must have crept under the gate and so wan-
dered into the grove.”

‘Are there no men who could seek the chil-
dren as well as you? Go back, Ailsa, and let
me seek.”

But as he spoke, he heard the sound of chil-
dren’s laughter from among the birch-trees, and,
believing that Ailsa was turning back, he ran
forward towards the woods.

Now little Ronald Campbell was the same
who had picked up Earl Kenric’s gauntlet on the
day of his throning on the Great Plain. Scarcely
had Kenric entered the grove when the laughter
he had heard was changed into a scream of
terror. Little Ronald, dragging his sister by the
hand, came running towards him, pursued by a
score of savage Norsemen. Kenric was about
to snatch up the children in his arms when he
saw it was too late. The Norsemen were upon
him. He gripped his sword and stood his
ground. At the same moment Ailsa Redmain
brushed past him and took the little Ronald by
the hand. One of the men of Colonsay darted
A TRAITOR KNAVE. 281

forward, levelling his spear, and with its sharp
point caught the little Rachel. The child fell
down, and the spear was but caught in her
woollen frock. In an instant Kenric had leapt
forward, swinging his sword in air. His heavy
blade crashed into the man’s skull. Then other
twenty men surrounded Kenric, menacing him
and pressing forward to reach the children he
defended. A man of Colonsay caught Ailsa by
her hand, and with his dagger was about to take
her life. Witha great cry of furious rage Kenric
sprang upon him and felled him.

Closer still the Norsemen pressed in upon him.
But Ailsa lay down at his feet with the two little
ones clasped tightly in her arms, protecting them
as a moor-hen protects her chicks under the cover
of her spreading wings. Kenric, sweeping his
blade from right to left, felled every man who
came within a couple of paces of Ailsa, until at
last the yelling warriors drew back, leaving the
young earl standing in the midst of a circle of
dead men, with Ailsa and the two children still
unscathed.

Then as the enemy, reinforced by many of
their comrades from among the trees, and rank-
ing themselves shoulder to shoulder, drew in
again, suddenly a shower of arrows poured upon
them, and a troop of the men of Bute rushed
forward from their ambush.
282 THE THIRSTY SWORD

From another direction a warrior on horse-
back appeared and crashed in among the Norse-
men, felling them with mighty strokes of his
heavy battle-axe. Then followed suchaslaughter
of the Norsemen that in a few minutes not one
was left alive. The warrior on horseback threw
his battle-axe upon the ground, and drawing rein,
sat upon his saddle with folded arms, and Kenric
saw by his armour that he too was one of the
enemy, and he marvelled much.

The men of Bute were now eager to make an
end of that stranger, for they thought that he
was the leader of the men who had thus attempted
to surprise the guard and make inroads upon
the abbey. But, seeing the man sitting so calm
upon his horse and unarmed, they lowered their
weapons.

This stranger horseman was Thorolf the.
captain, who had followed his rebel guards with
intent to intercept them.

“Young man,” said he to Kenric, “I know
not who you are, but by the circle of dead men
now lying about you, and by the prowess
whereby you have saved the lives of these three
children, I judge that you can be none other
than the young king of Bute.”

“That, sir, is so,” said Kenric, wiping his
sword upon a mossy stone and sheathing it.
‘And who are you, my master?”
A TRAITOR KNAVE. 283

“The captain of these rebel scoundrels—
Thorolf Sigurdson of Benbecula,” said the war-
rior, uncovering his head of ruddy curls. “I
have been left warden of the castle of Rothesay
_ by Rudri Alpinson; and now do I swear on
mine honour, my lord, that this matter that hath
just befallen is none of my doings, for I would
fain have prevented it. But ’tis but an hour ago
that one of your islanders was brought in a pri-
soner to Rothesay, and it was he who betrayed
the harbourage of your people.”

“Who was that man?” asked Kenric with
wrathful voice.

‘His name, my lord, was David Blair. He
is now, for his betrayal, dangling at a rope’s end
from the western tower of Rothesay Castle.”

“Well have you served him,” said Kenric;
“and now for your courtesy I] thank you,
Thorolf Sigurdson.”

Then Kenric bade Ailsa Redmain return
with the two children to the abbey.

“ And now,” he added, turning to the captain,
“since you are here I would beseech you to
grant me a few days’ truce, that we may have
time to bury our dead.”

“For the matter of that,” said Thorolf, “1
would willingly extend the truce until the return
of Rudri. For there are, if I mistake not, many
matters to attend to beyond the burial of the
284 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

slain. The men of Colonsay, as I hear, have
played sad havoc with your homesteads, and it
were well that these were put again into decent
repair.”

“Your terms are more favourable than I had
hoped for,” said Kenric, “and I well see that
you are a man of honour.”

“My lord,” said Thorolf, “much do I com-
mend and admire you for what you have done
in protecting your islanders. That protection,
I do assure you, was much needed, for had your
people remained in their homes not one of them
would now have been alive. But I swear that
they are henceforth safe from all further peril.
And now, for my own curiosity alone, I would
ask you how it happened that you were so
timely warned of the danger that threatened
you, my lord?”

Kenric told how William MacAlpin had come
to Bute, and how he himself had spied upon the
council of King Hakon in Gigha.

“ Ah, then, ‘twas you who slew the young son
of John of Islay?” cried Thorolf, though not in
anger. ‘“ The lad was found dead on the very
rock you speak of.”

“Not so,” said Kenric; “I slew him not.
And ’tis now for the first time I hear that he is
dead.”

“ But you had companions?”
A TRAITOR KNAVE. 285

“A girl was indeed with me. But—ah,
surely Aasta cannot have done this thing?”

“Aasta? Thatisa Norse name. Well, ’tis no
business of mine,” said the captain; “and now
will I return to Rothesay well content that your
people have received no greater injuries than
they now suffer at the hands of my friends your
enemies. Give you good-night, my lord.”

“By my faith, a right honest man!” said
Kenric as Thorolf rode away.

“And a good Christian, if I mistake not,”
said the abbot, who had heard the conversation.

“Ay, and a gallant soldier to boot,” added
Allan Redmain. ‘But for his turning upon
those ruffians, methinks it would have gone ill
with Kenric and my sister Ailsa.”

“God be thanked for our escape,” murmured
the abbot. “And now, if Roderic and his crew
come not back over soon, all may yet go well
with us. At sunrise we will all set forth with
picks and shovels and give a true Christian
burial to both friend and foe alike. And God
rest their souls, one and all.”

)
286 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

CHAPTER XXVII.
THE BATTLE OF LARGS.

WO weeks of gloomy weather passed, with
clouded skies and fitful winds. During
that time nothing was heard in Bute of either
Roderic the Rover or King Hakon of Norway.
Kenric and his men, with the priests of St.
Blane’s, made busy work in burying the dead.
Also, they got all their shipmen and fishers,
farm-workers and shepherds, to build up the
devastated cottages and farmsteads, and one by
one these dwellings again received their wonted
inmates. The villages of Rothesay, Ardbeg,
Kames, Ascog, and other settlements in the
island had been roughly handled by the invaders,
and many farms had been despoiled. But for
the greater part the shells of the houses had
been left standing, and there were many hands
to make light work of restoring them.

The Lady Adela of Rothesay, Lady Grace
de Currie, Ailsa Redmain, and the women of
Rothesay Castle took up their quarters in the
nunnery attached to the barony of St. Blane’s, for
none would return to the castle while yet a Norse-
man remained therein; and Kenric had passed
his word. that he would not attempt to regain
THE BATTLE OF LARGS. 287

possession of his stronghold until the kings of
Norway and Scotland had settled their dispute.

On the last day of September Sir Piers de
Currie, Kenric, and Allan—now Sir Allan Red-
main, for the knighthood of Scotland was
hereditary——were walking over from Ascog,
when, looking towards the seaboard between
Arran and the Cumbraes, they observed a great
fleet of ships, with many flags flying from their
masts, making across the Clyde. A hundred
and fifty war-galleys there were in all.

“The saints protect us!” cried Allan. “What
means all this?”

‘Tis even as I expected,” said Kenric.
“They are the ships of Hakon of Norway, who
now intends to invade the mainland.”

“Then, if this be indeed so,” said Sir Piers,
“methinks it is now our place to be following
under the banner of our sovereign. Too long
have we already delayed. To your ships,
Kenric! To your ships this very hour! Muster
your men and let us at once hasten over to
Cunningham, for, if I mistake not, King Alex-
ander must even now be marching to the coast.
’Tis but small help that we can offer, but let it
not be said that we shirked our duty in the hour
of Scotland’s need.”

“Go, Sir Allan,” said Kenric, “hasten to the
headland of Garroch and there blow me on your
288 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

horn the call to arms. Not long will our men
be in answering that summons. And now, Sir
Piers, to you do I resign the command of our
forces. Give us your directions and we will
promptly obey.”

“Let every man who can draw a long-bow,
or wield pike or sword, be sent upon the ships,”

said the knight. “At noon, when the tide is at
the half-flood, we set sail for Gourock.’
“ Gourock 2”

“Even so. The bay of Gourock is our best
shelter, and thence we can march southward
towards Largs, or to whatsoever spot the enemy
determine to make their landing-place.”

‘Tis well,” said Kenric.

“And furnish me with the best horse you can
find,” added Sir Piers, “for ’tis on horseback
that I would fight.”

So at noon that day seven galleys hove anchor
in the bay of Kilchattan, with each a company
of sevenscore men; in all a thousand gallant
islanders sailed that day from Bute. Creeping
up the shores of the island, past Kerrycroy and
Ascog, they steered across by Toward Point.
And by this time the fleet of King Hakon had
disappeared into the channel that flows between
the two Cumbrae islands.

As Kenric’s ships crossed the Clyde a drizzling
rain came on, and the wind began to blow in
THE BATTLE OF LARGS, 289

fitful gusts from the south-west. But they
reached the safe harbour of Gourock without
mishap, and there cast anchor. That night the
half-moon that shone dimly through the scudding
clouds lay on her back, with a great circle of
light around her, betokening stormy weather.

The next morning, which was the 1st of
October, was cold and windy. Sir Piers ordered
his troops ashore, leaving but a few shipmen
to watch the galleys. Landing amidst a shower
of heavy hail he was met by a party of mounted
Scots clad in complete mail, who told him that
King Alexander had alreadystarted from Lanark
with fifteen hundred mounted men-at-arms.

Sir Piers marshalled his islanders in order
and gave the word to march, and ever as they
moved southward they were joined by the vil-
lagers and parties of sturdy fighting men.

Kenric and Allan, with Duncan Graham at
their side, marched afoot, for both were wont to
feel ill at ease in the saddle. Nevertheless
Allan cast many an envious glance at the gallant
knight who led them. Sir Piers was clothed in
the most beautiful suit of armour that had ever
been seen in that time. His horse was a power-
ful Spanish jennet that had belonged to Earl
Hamish of Bute, and it was protected by a heavy
breastplate and flank armour. The rider was

splendidly armed from head to foot, his helm
(746) .
290 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

and coat of mail being inlaid with gold. At his
left side there hung a long claymore, longer by
three inches than Kenric’s great sword. In his
right hand he held a ponderous battle-axe of
solid brass, and from his pommel there hung a
spiked mace whose head was as large as the
head of a man. His belt was studded with
precious stones. Not in all his army had King
Alexander a stronger or nobler warrior than Sir
Piers de Currie; nor had he one, either strong
or weak, who had a deeper hatred against the
Norse invaders, for they had burnt down his
castle of Ranza, and by them had his own
uncle’s castle of Brodick been razed to the
ground and his uncle slain. He was to fight
that day for his beautiful wife and his children,
for the possession of his estates, for his revenge
against his enemies, and for his King and coun-
try; and none who saw him could have doubted
that he would prove a most valiant and power-
ful antagonist.

Kenric had on his crested helm of brass, and
wore a shirt of steel mail. His knees and arms
were bare, showing his firm muscles and the
sun-tanned skin; on his feet he wore buskins of
double hide, and his legs were protected by
brass greaves. Over his back his long bow
was slung beside his full arrow sheaf. At his
right side was his dirk, at his left the sword of
THE BATTLE OF LARGS. 291

Somerled. On his arm he carried a small
round shield studded with nails, though this
was more an encumbrance than a defence, since
his sword required the use of his two hands, and
the shield might only be employed as a protec-
tion against arrows fired from a distance.

Sir Allan Redmain was attired in like man-
ner. As to their islanders, some few of them
of the better condition—as Duncan Graham
and Ronald Gray—wore shirts of mail, but the
larger number, so far from desiring armour
when they came to close quarters with the
enemy, even threw their plaids aside and fought
in their shirts, bare-legged, bare-armed, bare-
headed. Many of them carried bows and
arrows; all had either claymores or pole-axes,
with daggers and targets,

They had marched some ten miles southward
through the sheltered glens of Noddsdale when,
mounting to the ridge of the range of hills that
rise above the shores of Cunningham, they were
met by a keen icy wind from the south-west.
Below them stretched the wide Firth of Clyde,
turbulent, angry with foam-capped waves. Far
across the water rose the giant mountains of
Arran, with their tattered peaks frowning in
dark-blue blackness against the leaden sky, and
through a rent in the clouds a long beam of sun-
shine shot, slanting down for a moment upon
292 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

the soft green hills of Bute. On the nearer side
were the two islands of Cumbrae, with a strip
of gray sea between them, where lay the storm-
tossed galleys of King Hakon the Old.

These ships, which during the night had taken
shelter in the harbour that is now named Mill-
port Bay, were already making for the shores of
the mainland below the village of Largs, for it
was at this point that the Norse king had deter-
mined to land his invading forces.

Largs was not a spot which a modern general
would have chosen for an invasion. It was ill
suited for troops forming in strength after land-
ing. There is a narrow strip of level ground,
with bluffs rising right up from it. Troops
marching along this strip, either north or south,
would be flanked by the higher ground for
many miles. To attempt to pass through any
of the ravines which pierce the range of hills
would have been perilous. Nevertheless Hakon
had chosen this landing-place.

“Methinks,” said Sir Piers de Currie, as he
watched the Norse galleys battling with the
waves, “that our work is already half accom-
plished. Should the wind rise yet higher no
easy task will Hakon find it to land his men on
that lee shore.”

“ Fad I been he,” said Kenric, “it is not thus
that I would have lingered among the isles ere
THE BATTLE OF LARGS. 293

I made a descent upon the mainland. Had
Hakon pressed onward with all his forces, in-
stead of despatching a squadron here and a
squadron there for useless plundering, had he
made straight for Scotland while yet the fair
weather continued, and while yet King Alex-
ander was unaware of his approach, he might
even have made a successful conquest. But
look eastward yonder across the hills at the fair
troop of Scots advancing in battle array. Look
down upon the plain of Largs, where a good
two thousand men are waiting ready. Soon
will King Alexander himself be here with his
cavalry from Lanark. By my faith, the Norse-
man will have a warmer welcome than he looks
for!”

“Tet us then hasten downward,” said Sir
Piers, “that we may have a taste of the battle
before the elements have entirely robbed us of
our foe.”

Troop after troop of Scots marched onward
toward Largs. From Ayr they came, from
Renfrew, Dumbarton, Stirling, Turnberry, and
many another stronghold that had been warned
of the enemy’s nearness by means of beacon
fires on the highest hilltops.

But of the forces that were making ready to
meet them the Norsemen knew little. Tney were
at present too much engaged in attending to the
294 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

safety of their ships, and not any of them could
make a landing that day. The wind rose higher,
the tempest increased in fury, and at nightfall
there came a deluging storm of hail and rain
which continued until late next morning. For
this the Scots cared little. Curling themselves
up with their plaids about them they slept soundly
upon the heather, undisturbed by the howling of
the wind and the raging of the waves upon the
rocky shore. But with the invaders it was far
from being such an easy matter. Their anchors
dragged. Many vessels had to have their masts
cut away. King Hakon’s own gallant ship,
although secured by seven anchors, was driven
from her moorings, and five galleys were cast
ashore.

And now when the tempest seemed to threaten
the total destruction of their enemies, a mixed
multitude of armed Scots on the surrounding
heights watched every movement of the Nor-
wegian fleet, ready to take instant advantage of
its distress. So, when the five galleys with
their armed shipmen were driven ashore, Sir
Piers de Currie and the men of Bute rushed
down from the heights and attacked the stranded
vessels. Whereupon the Norsemen defended
themselves with great gallantry.

The rest of the fleet were presently seen beat-
ing up the channel towards Largs, and, as the
THE BATTLE OF LARGS. 295

tempest had lulled, reinforcements soon landed
in such numbers that the Scots were forced to
retire towards the heights.

At sunrise King Hakon himself came ashore
with a force of three thousand men, ordering an
advance towards the higher ground. At tne
moment when the marching order was given
the army of King Alexander appeared upon the
hilltop. The sun’s rays breaking through the
ragged clouds sparkled uponspears and cuirasses.
The cavalry made a noble appearance. Most
of them were knights and barons from the
neighbouring counties, armed from head to heel,
and mounted on Spanish horses which were
clothed in complete armour. With this troop
of fifteen hundred horsemen was a vast body of
foot-soldiers.

Seeing all this, Sir Piers de Currie no longer
hesitated to renew his engagement. Rallying
his men he began to skirmish with the advance
of the Danes and Norwegians. He pressed on
both flanks with so much fury that, fearing they
would be cut to pieces—as many were—the
enemy began a retreat which soon changed into
a flight. King Hakon and many of his best
fighting men scrambled into the boats and
pushed off into the safety of the deeper water,
regaining their ships.

Everything now depended upon the landing
296 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

of reinforcements. But at this critical moment
a violent storm of hail came on; the wind rose
again with such strength that it completed the
ruin of many of the ships. In the midst of the
fighting on land there was a still more furious
battle upon the waves. Galley after galley was
driven upon the rocks, and their crews had little
spirit for meeting their overpowering enemies.
Between the anger of the elements and the
ceaseless showers of arrows from the Scots, their
army was greatly distressed. Their leaders, too,
began to desert them, and in their frantic efforts
to escape they overcrowded the boats, many of
which went down. Sir Piers de Currie now
drew up his men in line on the hillside, and left
them in charge of Allan Redmain and Kenric.
Then he rode to meet the King, whose troops
had by this time descended to the level ground.

“So, then, Sir Piers,” said Alexander, whose
tall figure, as he sat on his brown jennet, was
almost wholly covered by a great cloak—“so
you have arrived before us? And are we then
to have no share in this adventure? ’Tis pass-
ing unfriendly in you thus to dismiss our enemy
ere we have seen his face. Tarry awhile and
let them land again. Our horsemen here are
like hounds straining at the leash, What men
have you, Sir Piers?”

“A few hundred peasant lads, your Majesty,
THE BATTLE OF LARGS. 207

and some eight hundred men of Bute,” said the
knight.

“And are there then none of your own men
of Arran?”

“ Alas, sire, these Norse dogs have left me
but a handful of followers, for my uncle has been
slain, and our four castles have been taken. Our
islanders have taken refuge among the moun-
tains. I and my family, who, by God’s grace,
escaped, have been these two weeks past in
Bute, where Earl Kenric has most heroically
saved the lives of many, hundreds of your loyal
subjects. °Tis true he has lost his castles of
Rothesay and Kilmory, but—”

“Kenric of Bute has done well,” said the
King. “We have already heard of all that he
has done for the people of Bute. It was from
one of his own messengers that we first heard
of Hakon’s arrival on our coasts. Kenric shall
not be forgotten. Our only regret is that he
did not put an end to that villainous outlaw his
uncle. But there may yet be hope that Roderic
is in the field this day. So we pray you, Sir
Piers, should you encounter him, deal him his
death-blow, and you shall have our eternal gra-
titude. And now to your work, and God de-
fend the right.”

Then as Sir Piers rode off to rejoin his troops,
the King turned to a stalwart warrior at his side
298 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

and bade him show King Hakon a lesson in
defence. This warrior was Alexander the high
steward of Scotland, a man bred in the use of
arms, and, next to Sir Piers de Currie, the most
valiant soldier that fought in that field. And
with him rode three good English knights who
were of the court of Alexander. With a full
company of cavalry he rode across the plain
and took up his position with Sir Piers de Currie.

During this interval the hail-storm had abated,
and the Norsemen had again effected a landing
in great numbers under the chiefs Ogmund
Kraekidantz and Haffling of Orkney.

Sir Piers de Currie and the steward rode for-
ward side by side, attempting in the chivalrous
style of the time to provoke an encounter. But
none would take this challenge, so Sir Piers
rode back. Then the steward, riding in front
of the ranks of the enemy who were drawn up
along the beach, was speedily surrounded. Spur-
ring his charger, he dashed forward, and wield-
ing his great battle-axe he struck down the
opposing Norsemen as the waving wheat falls
before the sickle, leaving a row of slain men in
his track.

The Norsemen then rushed forward with loud
cries to meet the troops of peasants and men of
Bute who charged them. But the horsemen
galloped in between and drove the enemy along
THE BATTLE OF LARGS. 299

the shore. The fair-haired warriors of the North
again and again rallied and behaved with the
accustomed bravery of their viking ancestors,
fearless of wounds and glorying in warlike death.

Many galleys were then brought nearer in-
shore, and though assailed by heavy stones from
the Scots’ machines and ceaseless showers of
arrows, their men scrambled upon the beach.
And now Sir Piers de Currie again rode forward,
followed by Kenric, Allan Redmain, Duncan
Graham, many men of Bute, and others of
Lanark and Ayr. This was the one sortie of
the engagement that was in the nature of a real
battle. In numbers the two sides were almost
equal.

Sir Piers was met by five Norse chiefs, and
he encountered them with fierce courage. One
by one he felled them to the ground, cleaving
their brass helms with his heavy axe. And ever
as they fell their places were taken by as many
others. At his horse’s left side fought Kenric,
Allan, and Duncan; Kenric swinging his great
sword and smiting right and left at those who
tried to reach the horseman, Allan and Duncan
in like manner fighting with steady blows. And
thus they pressed their way ever farther into
the ranks of the enemy, moving with Sir Piers,
backward or forward, and defending his left side
as he slew his assailants on his right.
300 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

Kenric heard the gallant knight’s panting
breath growing weaker.

“To the other side, Duncan,” he cried. And
Duncan Graham worked round behind the horse’s
tail to relieve Sir Piers of some of his foes who
pressed upon him. Not long had he changed
his position when Kenric saw the horse swerve
and fall. A deep groan from Sir Piers was all
that told of the terrible wounds he had received.

The Norwegian chronicle recording this fight
says that Sir Piers de Currie was killed by a
blow which severed his thigh from his body, the
sword cutting through the greaves of his armour
and penetrating to the saddle. Howbeit the
brave Sir Piers was slain, and the man who slew
him was the outlaw Roderic MacAlpin.

Duncan Graham, seeing who had done this
thing, at once closed with Roderic, and the two
fought with terrible vigour.

Now Duncan, ever since he had received that
wound in his chest over at Coll, had lost the
power to raise his right arm above his head, and
it went ill with him. When Kenric, rushing to
Sir Piers de Currie’s right side, first saw his
enemy, Roderic was in the act of smiting a fear-
ful blow upon Duncan’s bare and outstretched
neck. Duncan fell, not even uttering a groan,
so speedily fatal was the blow he had received.
But above the clang of the battle and the thun-
THE BATTLE OF LARGS. 301

derous surging of the waves, there rose at this
moment into the air a woman’s cry of anguish.
It was the cry of Aasta the Fair.

Wearing the same coat of mail and helmet
that she had worn at the siege of Rothesay,
and wielding a light broadsword, she had been
fighting with as fearless bravery as any man there
present. She had cloven her way through the
battling men to the place where rose the tower-
ing head of her lover Duncan, and arrived at
his side at the very moment when the sword
of Roderic smote him down. Splashed with
her lover’s blood she gripped her sword, nor
paused to see if Duncan were indeed dead.
She leapt with a wolf-like howl upon Roderic
MacAlpin, and so pressed him with her blows
that he stepped back and back. The maid,
though strong, was ill-trained in the use of the
sword, and her every blow was skilfully parried.
But to Aasta’s side came Kenric, his eyes
gleaming with fierce hatred of his foe. They
were now at the very verge of the sea, and the
spray from the surging billows fell upon them
like heavy rain. Roderic struck at Aasta, mut-
tering acurse, and Kenric in parrying that blow
missed his chance. He saved Aasta’s life, but
before he could recover his weapon, Roderic
had quickly turned round and plunged into the
foaming waves.
302 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

Promptly did Kenric thrust his sword between
his knees and take his long-bow from over his
shoulder. Aasta as promptly handed him an
arrow. He saw Roderic standing waist-deep in
the breakers sheathing his sword. He levelled
an arrow at his throat, but quickly as the arrow
flew Roderic raised his shield) The dart
plunged into the hard board. Another and
another arrow followed with the same result.
Then Roderic, throwing himself into the deeper
water, and holding his shield to defend his bare
neck, swam outward towards the ships. No
other man in all that host could have breasted
those great waves without being dashed to
pieces on the rocks. But Roderic MacAlpin
was as much at home in the water as upon
the dry land, and though Kenric believed that
he had but preferred a watery grave to being
hacked to death by sword or axe, yet Roderic
reached his ship in safety and lived to fight
another day.

Kenric, returning with Aasta from the beach,
found Allan Redmain, surrounded by many men
of Bute, fighting still. There was a great sword-
cut across his cheek, but his strong arms waved
about him unceasingly, smiting down at every
blow one of the fair-haired warriors of the North.
Then Kenric joined in the fray, swinging his
trusty blade to right, to left, and forcing his way
THE BATTLE OF LARGS. 303

to Allan’s side, where he stood his ground over
the dead body of Sir Piers de Currie. That
good knight's splendid armour had caught the
eyes of his covetous foes, who were also enraged
at the thought of the many doughty Norsemen
who had fallen under his mighty blows. Twelve
of their best men were victims of his well-
wielded battle-axe, and of the twelve were the
Norse barons Ogmund Kraekidantz, Thorlang
Bosi, Paul Soor, Andrew Nicholson, and King
Hakon’s own nephew, Hakon of Steini, all of
them most gallant and brave warriors. But not
less enraged were the Scots on their side at the
death of Sir Piers, whose body now became the
centre point of battle. The Norsemen strove
to gain possession of his armour, and piece by
piece they carried it away. But ever the Scots
bore down upon their foes. Swords, pikes, and
axes dripped with the crimson drops of battle,
arrows and heavy stones fell in the midst of the
contending forces; the groans of the wounded,
the lusty shouts of the deep-throated combatants
sounded loud above the raging of the wind and
the thunderous beating of the waves.

Very soon the foemen shrank away, leaving
a great gap in their lines through which the
Scots cavalry charged, driving the Norsemen to
their ships, or forcing them into the turbulent
sea.
304. THE THIRSTY SWORD.

At the head of the cavalry rode the Scottish
King with his valiant steward at his side. But
little did the horsemen do, for the enemy,
already routed by the defenders, and further
dispersed by the tempest of wind and hail, gave
up the fight. Many scrambled upon their boats
and pushed off from land, and very soon there
was scarce a living Norseman to be seen upon
the strand. The steward of Scotland then
drew up his forces to the heights, where they
formed anew. There they remained for many
hours in the shelter of the woods, for the storm-
ing of the elements was terrible to behold.

Towards evening the tempest lulled and the
Norsemen, still undaunted, again ventured
ashore in vast numbers, landing their boats
through a tremendous surf. These new troops,
led by Roderic MacAlpin and Haffling of
Orkney, attacked the Scots upon two points,
making a desperate charge, and with such
success that they killed many and drove the
whole army back into the farther valley. But
here the Scots suddenly halted. Their left
wing wheeled round, and taking the invaders
in their rear they speedily brought to an end
that battle of Largs.

The relics of this brave body of invaders,
with their two leaders, again embarked in their
boats, and although the storm continued, safely
THE BATTLE OF LARGS. 305

arrived at the fleet. The remaining ships of
Hakon were woefully shattered; they drove from
their anchors, many were stranded on the shore,
others struck against shallows and rocks, or
found equal disaster by running foul of each
other.
The next morning presented a beach covered
with dead bodies and a sea strewn with wreckage.
King Hakon himself had never so much as
drawn his sword. His barons and officers had
urged him to remain on board his ship. De-
feated, and dismayed at his manifold disasters,
he called for a truce for the burial of his dead,
and five days were spent by friend and foe in
consort in raising above the graves of the fallen
warriors those rude memorials the traces of
which still remain to mark the field of battle.
Of the twenty thousand followers of the Norse
king scarcely as many hundreds remained alive,
and of his splendid fleet but a score of dis-
mantled galleys were left afloat to carry back
the defeated invaders to their several homes.
Crossing to the outer seas, Hakon gathered
about him the few pirate chiefs who had joined
him in the hope of plunder, and upon them he
bestowed as rewards for their service the islands
of which he had made imaginary conquest. He
gave the isle of Arran to Earl Margad, who had

invaded it, and upon Roderic MacAlpin- he
(746) U
306 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

bestowed the isle of Bute. These chiefs, how-
ever, did not at once take possession of their
estates, but remained on the ships that they
might help to replenish the exhausted provisions
of the fleet by forcible contribution from the
isles.

King Hakon now felt the vast change that
had come over his armament during the few
weeks since he sailed down among the Western
Isles, conquering and winning to his sidetheisland
princes as vassals of his flag. He returned as
a baffled invader, and encountered many severe
rebuffs from the islanders as well as further
disasters from the winter storms. The fatigues
of that expedition and his bitter disappointments
sank deep into his old heart, and never again
did he see the home that he had left. Landing
in Orkney on the 29th of October, he remained
in the palace of Kirkwall, and there died a
broken-hearted man.

So concluded this memorable expedition
against Scotland, which began with high hope,
but ended only with disaster and the death of
its royal leader. No more did the sons of the
vikings attempt to take their stand upon the
Western Isles.

Alexander IIL. freed from a restless and
powerful enemy, could look forward to a con-
tinuance of peace and prosperity. But he lost
THE BATTLE OF LARGS. 307

no time in following up the advantages he had
gained from the engagement at Largs. In the
following year he sent a strong military force
against those unfortunate chiefs who during the
late expedition had remained faithful to Hakon.
Some of the island kings were executed; all
were reduced.

Three years afterwards, in 1266, the disputes
with Norway were finally settled by a formal
treaty with Magnus IV., Hakon’s son, who
agreed to yield to Scotland for ever after, all
right and sovereignty over the Isle of Man and
the Western Isles, specially reserving Orkney
and Shetland to the crown of Norway.

In the year 1281 a bond of friendship was
established between the two nations by the
marriage of the Scottish princess Margaret,
daughter of Alexander III., to Eric of Norway,
the grandson of Hakon the Old. It was the
daughter of this marriage, Margaret the Maid
of Norway, whose sad death in 1290 brought
about the disputes of Bruce and Baliol, and led
to the great war of Scottish Independence.
308 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

AASTA’S SECRET MISSION.

INCE the invasion of Bute, when Elspeth
Blackfell’s cottage had been laid in ruins,
Aasta the Fair had taken up her abode with the
old woman in a little cave that may still be seen
opening out upon the wooded heights above
Ascog Bay.

On an evening in late December the maiden
sat in this cave. Her fair head, with its long
flowing hair, was resting in her hands, and her
deep blue eyes were fixed upon the glow of a
peat fire that burned in the middle of the cham-
ber, and reflected its warm light upon the deer-
skin curtain at the entrance. From without
came the soughing of a bitter east wind that
blew in biting gusts across the Clyde.

The three months that had passed since
the battle of Largs had brought but little joy
into Aasta’s lonely heart. The destruction of
the castle of Kilmory, and the coming of winter,
had deprived her of her daily occupations upon
the farm lands, and her work would not be
renewed until Allan Redmain had rebuilt his
castle and spring had softened the frozen fields.
The frosts and snows had brought many hard.
AASTA’S SECRET MISSION. 309

ships; food was scarce, and life in that rocky
cave had few comforts. More than all, Duncan
Graham, whom she had hoped to wed, was dead
—slain in battle by the sword of the outlaw
Roderic. Aasta almost felt that she had rather
have been slain at her lover’s side than live
longer without him in a world that offered her
so little joy.

But in her despair for herself she yet was
comforted by the knowledge that the Earl
Kenric had been spared to his people, and that
the Norsemen had finally left him in possession
of his castle and lands. It was of Kenric that
she was now thinking as she sat before the fire.
Ever since that night in September, when she

‘had journeyed with him to Gigha, she had felt
a strange, close sympathy with him, an affection
for him that was stronger than any other feeling
she had ever known. Kenric’s peaceful happi-
ness was the one thing that she yearned for.
But now, when she had thought such happiness
was surely before. him, an unexpected danger
had suddenly arisen. Roderic the Rover was
still alive. The battle which had brought about
the death of so many of his companions had
spared him. The raging elements that had
destroyed so many of the ships had left Roderic’s
galley unharmed. He had voyaged into the far
north with the defeated King Hakon, and after
310 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

Hakon’s death he had returned to Gigha. On
any day he might be expected again in Bute.

Aasta had just heard this unwelcome news
from a fisherman who had come ashore at Ascog,
and she was questioning in her mind how she
might profit by the occasion and, unknown to
Kenric, go secretly over to Gigha and compass
the death of this powerful enemy of Bute. She
hated Earl Roderic as the cushat hates the .
night-hawk, and if by some subtle means she
could bring him to his death, then might she
deem herself fortunate indeed, and her own life
not wholly thrown away by a sacrifice that would
be the means of ensuring lasting happiness to
the lord of Bute.

A new light beamed in her large eyes as she
determined at all hazards to attempt this thing.

Presently she rose from her little wooden
stool and took down a heavy cloak that she
threw about her shoulders. Then from under
a sheep-skin mat she drew forth a long sharp
dirk, which she placed in her leathern belt. She
went further into the cave and put some bread-
cakes into her wallet. Then drawing aside a
curtain that shut off a side chamber in the rocky
walls, she held up a lighted cruse-lamp and
looked for a few silent moments upon the sleep-
ing form of Elspeth Blackfell.

“Fare you well, Elspeth,” she murmured
AASTA’S SECRET MISSION. 311

softly. “It may be that I shall never see you
again—no, never-again. But God will reward
you for the great goodness you have shown to
your poor Aasta. Fare you well.”

As she sighed and dropped the curtain she
turned to leave the cave, and there crept towards
her the gaunt form of a great dog-wolf, upon
whose breast there was a patch of pure white
hair. The animal lazily stretched himself and
yawned, showing his long red tongue and his
white fangs. Aasta bent down and patted his
shaggy coat.

“No, Lufa, it is alone I go. Get back to
your corner,” she said coaxingly. The animal
turned tail, and with the obedience of a tame
dog went back into the darkness and lay down
on his mat of sheep-skin, while Aasta, drawing
her cloak about her, slipped silently out into the
clear twilight and faced the keen east wind.

Turning along a narrow path that led upward
to the head of the bank, she followed the course
of a little stream whose pure water was now
turned into icy crystals. As she gained the
level height the wind blew her hair about her
pale and beautiful face. She drew her hood
over her head and turned inland. To the south
the giant fells of Arran, shrouded in snow, stood
out white and distinct against a steel-blue sky,
with the wan moon above them. But the ground
312 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

that Aasta trod was bare and hard, and the
drifted snow lay only in the deeper hollows
crisp as ice. She crossed the Great Plain beside
the Seat of Law, until she came to the wooded
shores of Loch Ascog. She observed that the
ruffled water of the little lake was of a deep
blue, and she thought of the weird belief of that
time which held that those waters claimed once
every year a new victim, and that they only
assumed that dark-blue colour in token of a
coming death. She looked upon Ascog Mere
with a superstitious dread, for the people of
Bute believed that it was a place of punishment
for unhappy spirits, who might often be heard
wailing in the dismal morass about its margin.
She heard such a wailing even now, though
perhaps it was but the whistling of the wintry
wind among the frozen reeds, or the tinkling of
the ice that was gathering ina film at the water’s
verge.

Hastening her steps, she sought the shelter
of the tall fir-trees, and made her way to the
southern point of the lake that she might reach
the western shores of the island, and so take a
fisher’s boat across to Gigha by the same easy
course that Kenric had taken with her three
months before. The journey must now be taken
alone, for she meant that the vengeful work she
contemplated should be secret, and that Larl
AASTA’S SECRET MISSION. 313

Kenric should be rid of his dangerous enemy
without knowing by whom or by what means
Roderic had been slain.

Scarcely had Aasta emerged from among the
trees and crossed towards the lake when she
heard the beating of footsteps upon the hard
ground, She stood still and listened. Nearer
and nearer the footsteps advanced, and presently
at the top of a bald knoll in front of her there
appeared the tall figure of a man. He was
covered by a seaman’s great cloak, which he
held partly over his face to shield him from the
cutting wind. He came rapidly towards her,
and when they were but a few paces apart he
drew back his cloak, revealing his long red beard.

“ Roderic of Gigha!” cried Aasta recoiling a
step and feeling for her dirk, as she recognized
the man she had set out to slay.

“Ay, Roderic it is,” said he smiling grimly.
“And methinks, fair damsel, that you are the
very same who so cunningly escaped from my
ship over at Arrochar—the same also who
fought so bravely against me at Largs. By
the saints, my pretty one, but you are a most
courageous maiden; much do I admire you, and
fain would I know you better. Nay, be not
afraid of me,” he added as he saw her draw
back from him, “I will not hurt you.”

“What wicked schemes, my lord, have brought
314 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

you yet again to Bute?” asked Aasta, making
pretence to be very calm, and thinking that by
seeming to yield to his humour she might be
the better able presently to use her dirk.

“If you must know,” said he as he stepped
aside to the leeward of a great rock, “I come
hither to see the old witch Elspeth Blackfell,
to reproach her for her false prophecy. Where
lives the old hag these wintry days?”

“In the cave of Ascog, if you know that
place,” said Aasta, promptly deciding how she
might entrap him there, and knowing full well
that the wolf Lufa would be a sufficient protec-
tion for Elspeth.

“TI know it well,” said Roderic, “and there
will I go. And now, how fares the young lord
of Bute since he has lost his castles and lands?”

“My lord Kenric’s castles and lands are in no
wise lost to him,” said Aasta more boldly.

“How so? Not lost?” cried Roderic in
surprise. ‘“ Where, then, is Thorolf Sigurdson,
whom I left as warden over my isle of Bute?”

“Thorolf Sigurdson, Heaven bless his honest
heart! has gone home these many weeks past to
Benbecula, and taken his cowardly Norsemen
with him.”

“ The traitor!” gasped Roderic. “And is the
young Kenric again in possession of my castle
of Rothesay ?”
AASTA’S SECRET MISSION. 315

“The castle of Rothesay was never yours,
Earl Roderic, and never shall be,” returned
Aasta firmly. ‘His Majesty of Scots hath given
us full protection, and for you to seek to remove
Earl Kenric from his rightful lordship were vain.
If you value your life, my lord, go not near to
Rothesay.”

“Your warnings are useless, bold maiden,”
said Roderic with a sneer. “To Rothesay I will
surely go, and Kenric, were he the strongest
man in all the isles, shall not prevent me from
taking my own. I have sworn to bring that
whelp to his death, and by St. Olaf he shall die
this very night!”

Aasta drew nearer until she stood close enough
to touch him. The light of the moon shone
upon her beautiful face, and Roderic, standing
with his back against the rock, thought that
surely she was the fairest woman his eyes had
ever beheld.

“My lord,” said she softly, as though she
meant to help him to his coveted power, “if
this be indeed your intention, methinks ‘twere
well that you should first reckon with me.” Her
right hand now grasped the haft of her dirk, her
left hand was ready to fly at the man’s bare
throat. “Haply Iam but a weak woman; yet
a woman can ofttimes do that which men would
shrink from.”
316 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

“Even so,” said he calmly. “And now if you
would but help me in this project, I swear to |
you that I will love you always, and when I am
in possession of my lands and castles, I will
even make you my wedded wife, and you shall
be right happy.”

“Villain!” cried Aasta. Then she flung back
her cloak and sprang upon him, seizing his
throat and raising her knife to strike it to his
heart.

Roderic saw her eyes flash like two fierce
fires. He saw her weapon gleaming in the
moon’s pale light. With a wild cry of rage he
caught her uplifted arm and arrested it.

“ Deceitful witch,” he cried, “is it thus that
you would help me?”

“Even so,” said Aasta the Fair. “For now
your last hour hascome. No mercy will I show
you, base villain that you are!”

And then they struggled together in each
other’s arms, swaying and panting, gripping
and twisting, like two furious animals. Aasta
held him firmly with her left hand, burying her
strong fingers in his thick throat. But at last
he freed himself and forced her back. Then
with fierce anger he caught her up in his arms
and raised her from her feet, and carried her
away.

Thereupon Aasta gave forth a loud and pierc-
AASTA’S SECRET MISSION. 317

ing cry that sounded far away in the keen
winter air.

That cry was heard at the farther side of
Loch Ascog, where, in the dingle of Lochly,
Allan Redmain was walking northward towards
Rothesay. Allan thought at first that it was the
cry of some imprisoned spirit in the mere; but
again he heard it, and no longer doubted that
it was a woman’s voice calling for help. He
ran back to the southern point of the lake, and
searched in the growing darkness for a sign that
might tell him what had happened. Nothing
could he see but the bare bleak land with its
patches of frozen snow, the dark trees waving in
the wind, and the still blue surface of the mere
where the frost was swiftly congealing the water
into transparent ice. And then he thought that
his ears had deceived him.

He went onward to Rothesay over the ever-
hardening land. The frost bit sharply. Every
stream of water shrank into itself in firm clear
ice and grew silent. Allan was full-blooded in -
his strong manhood, but when he reached the
castle gates his fingers, toes, and ears were
numb with the intense cold.

Before the blazing fire in the great hall he
found Kenric with the Lady Adela and his own
sister Ailsa. Another also was there whose
presence made Allan forget the cold. This
318 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

other was sweet Margery de Currie, the eldest
daughter of brave Sir Piers. She blushed as
Allan entered, and made room beside her for
him to sit down. She took his hands in hers
and chafed them into warmth, at which the
Lady Adela smiled approval, thinking how
brave a pair they made.

Presently the servitors entered and made
ready the evening meal. Allan rose and drew
Kenric aside.

“Over at Kilmory two hours ago,” said he,
“T learned bad news, my lord.”

“What news is that, Sir Allan?” asked Kenric.
“Ts it that your builders refuse to work in this
cold weather? What matters it? Have you
not a good home here, where you can see your
lady-love every day? Have patience, Allan;
Margery will wait, and you will be wedded
when the spring-time comes, and when your
castle will be better fitted to receive you—”

“Nay, Kenric, ’tis not such matters as these
that trouble me,” said Allan gravely. “The
news I. speak of is that the rascal Roderic the
Outlaw, has, as I believe, returned to Gigha.”

“Roderic in Gigha!” cried Kenric in alarm.
“Alas! and I thought him dead. Who told you
this thing?”

“A fisherman of Gigha,” said Allan. “ But I
understood him ill. Methinks we had better
ELSPETH BLACKFELL. 319

inquire of the maid Aasta the Fair, for the fisher
spoke with her, and well I wot he told her all.”

“ Doubtless,” said Kenric. “And on the
morrow I will even seek Aasta and learn from
her if this ‘be true. It may be that there still is
work for my sword to perform. Well is it that
I have not already fulfilled my intention of cast-
ing the brave weapon into the sea.”

CHAPTER XXIX.
ELSPETH BLACKFELL.

ARLY on the following morning, which
was the last of the year, Elspeth Blackfell
awoke to find herself alone in the cave. Aasta
was gone; even the wolf Lufa was no longer
there, and the fire was dead out. Elspeth with
some difficulty kindled the hard dry peats, and
went to put some water into the pot to make
porridge. The water in the well at the far
end of the cave was turned to solid ice. At
the cave’s entrance there was a fringe of long
icicles hanging like sword-blades from the bare
rock, All was cold and desolate. The black
frost had penetrated everywhere, even, it seemed,
to the old woman’s bones, for she moved slowly
and bent for many minutes over the little fire
320 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

vainly trying to bring warmth into her shrivelled
limbs.

When at last she was able to put some broken
ice into her pot, she went out into the chill open
air, climbed the slippery bank, and stood upon
the height looking abroad for Aasta. She heard
the tread of footsteps crunching upon the hard .
ground among the neighbouring trees; but the
tread was strangely heavy. It was not that of
the light-footed maiden. Elspeth returned into
the cave and began to prepare her meal. The
sound of the footsteps continued to fall upon
her ears; they came nearer. She went to the
entrance and drew aside the deerskin curtain.
She started back at sight of Roderic the Out-
law.

“ You!” she cried, scowling. “ What devil’s
work now brings you back to Bute? for evil it
must surely be that tempts you hither.”

“Cease your croaking, Elspeth Blackfell,”
said he, “and give me food. This cold has
crept into my very marrow. Quick, give me
food.”

Elspeth stood aside and allowed him to enter.
He went to the fire and snatched up a burning
peat, moving it rapidly from hand to hand, and
blowing it into a red glow with his misty breath.
Then when he had warmed himself, he took out
his dirk and cut up some wood for the fre,
ELSPETH BLACKFELL. 321

making the flames rise high about the pot until
the water began to simmer.

Elspeth, without speaking, brought him an
oaten cake, which he ravenously devoured. By
the time that he had eaten it the water was
boiling. He thrust his strong red hand into the
bag of oatmeal, and then proceeded to stir the
porridge, while the old woman brought wooden
bowls and a dish of goat’s milk.

They ate their meal in silence, each eyeing
the other with suspicious glances of mutual
hatred. Not until he had appeased his hunger
did Roderic say more than a few casual words.
Elspeth felt herself in his power, for she was
alone, a frail and weaponless old woman against
a strong healthy man, whose sword might at
any moment be flashed forth to her destruction.
She waited, anxiously hoping that Aasta would
soon return with the wolf.

“And now, Elspeth Blackfell,” said he at last,
as he tossed his empty bowl into a corner, “you
would know my reason for coming back to Bute,
eh? Need you ask it? It is, in the first place,
that I may bring my bold nephew Kenric to
his account. I am,as you know,a poor defeated
warrior. I am tired of battling; I would rest
myself awhile. My late sovereign King Hakon
of Norway is dead. To Alexander of Scots

must I now turn for protection. ’Tis true he
(746) x
- 322 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

has made me an outlaw; but what of that?
Bute is mine, Gigha is mine, and Alexander
can ill afford to keep me his enemy. I will turn
young Kenric from my lands which he usurps,
and I doubt not all will yet go well with me.”

“ Methinks,” said Elspeth, “that you will find
it no easy matter to turn my lord Kenric from
his seat, for Alexander loves him right well, and
has assured him of his fullest protection.”

“T care not that much for Alexander or
Kenric,” said Roderic, snapping his fingers.
“Think you that I mean to wander about, a
homeless vagabond, as I have wandered these
few weeks past? Not so; Kenric shall die, and
by fair means or foul I shall take his place.”

Roderic here stood up to his full height and
faced the old woman.

“ And now, as to my second motive in return-
ing hither,” said he; “it is to have some words
with you—ay, you, Elspeth Blackfell—concern-
ing the false prophecy you made me. When, as
I landed over at St. Ninian’s three moons ago,
with my gallant warriors, I besought you in
your witchery to tell me the true issue of our
invasion, you told me—false-tongued hag that
you are—that if. the first blood that was drawn
should be that of a man of Bute, then my Norse-
men should be victorious; and if it was that of




‘you LIE, VILE WITCH, YOU LIE!” CRIED RODERIC.
ELSPETH BLACKFELL. 323.

a Norseman, then the Scots should win the
fight. And I believed you. Now it was a lad
of Bute that gave the first blood, and yet the
Scots are free and the Norsemen are utterly
defeated. Explain me this, thou harridan.” |

“My lord,” said Elspeth, rising and putting
the fire between them, “listen to me. What I
said at that time may indeed seem passing
strange. But though I claim no power, as you
mistakenly think, to see into the future, yet
nevertheless the words I spake have come true.”

“True? How so?” cried he, handling his
sword.

“The youth you slew, my lord Roderic, was
not of Bute,” said Elspeth with a trembling
voice. “Ah! you look with surprise! But wait.
You knew not what you did; you knew not —
who it was that you so wantonly slew.”

“What mean you? Who then was this youth?
Of what land was he, and what was his name?”

Elspeth paused and stepped nearer.

“His name, my lord, was Lulach, and he was the
son of Roderic MacAlpin and Sigrid the Fair.”

“You lie, vile witch, you lie!” cried Roderic,
recoiling as he heard her words, and pressing
his hands to his brow.

‘“ Not so,” said Elspeth, “the youth you then
slew was indeed your own son.”
324 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

“God forgive me!” murmured Roderic, sink-
ing to his seat and burying his shaggy head in
his hands. “Oh, Lulach, Lulach! my son, my
son!”

“Well may you weep, my lord; but methinks
your punishment is full well deserved. Better
had you obeyed our good abbot, and gone upon
the holy pilgrimage; better still had you remained
content upon your isle of Gigha, and never -
sought, in your ambition, to wrest from your
brother Hamish the larger inheritance that you
coveted. But you slew our good Earl Hamish;
you slew his son Alpin. Blame now yourself
alone in that your folly led you to slay also your
own son Lulach. °Twas an evil game you
played, my lord, and your punishment is just.”

“Taunt me no more,” said Roderic sullenly.
“Taunt me no more. But tell me, if it indeed
be that my boy is dead—my dear son Lulach,
whom I might have loved all these years had I
but known he could be found—tell me, when
came he into Bute?”

“Long years ago, my lord, when he was but
a child, and at the time when you were roving
the seas in pursuit of Rapp the Icelander. Had
you, instead of following your life of plundering,
but come as a friend and brother to Earl Hamish,
it may be that you might have found your boy.
ELSPETH BLACKFELL. 325

‘Twas not for me to seek you out, or to send
Lulach to the home of a father who was no better
than a murdering pirate. The lad was happier
where he was, even though he lived the life of
a poor thrall.”

“Alas! so near, so very near!” murmured
Roderic. “And I believed that the kelpie had
carried off my bairns, while all the time it was
but a few brief miles of sea that divided us!
My bairns? Ay, there were two. And the
other—the girl—what of her? What of my
sweet, blue-eyed Aasta?”

“ Aasta? She, my lord, is still in life.”

“In Bute?”

“ Ay, even in Bute.”

“God be thanked for that!” sighed Roderic.
“There is yet some happiness in store for me.
Where is she? Where may I see her?”

“This very day may you see her, my lord.
To-night the good abbot of St. Blane’s holds
the festival of the New Year. Aasta will be
within the chapel.”

“Alas! but I cannot show my face in the com-
pany of men,” said Roderic. “I am in hiding
as an outlaw, and I am alone and ill-defended.”

“ Be, then, upon the headland of Garroch at
the midnight hour,” said Elspeth. “ Wait there,
my lord, and I will send to you either Aasta
326 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

herself or else a messenger who will tell you all
you may wish to know.”

“Right so,” said Roderic; “at midnight on
the Garroch Head.”

“ And now I beg you, Earl Roderic, go hence
from this cave. Go hence to your boat and
remain there in hiding; for ifit be that the maid,
who knows you not as her father, should learn
of your presence in Bute, your plans will most
surely be frustrated.”

“T will obey you, Elspeth,” said the outlaw,
rising. And forthwith he left the cave.

Elspeth followed him to the heights and
watched him journeying southward through the
trees. Then when he was out of sight, she went
back to the cave and sat down, meditating how
she might prevent the meeting she had planned
and turn the appointment to a very different
account.

She waited for Aasta to return, intending to
send the maid at once to Rothesay to warn
Earl Kenric that his outlawed uncle was in the
island. But as Aasta did not appear before
mid-day, Elspeth took her cloak and staff and
prepared to go herself to the castle. She was
putting some new fuel upon the fire, when the
curtain at the cave’s entrance was drawn aside,
and there she saw Kenric himself,
ELSPETH BLACKFELL. 327

He wore an otter-skin cap that covered his
ears, and a great cloak of sheep-skins.

“Give you good day, my lord,” said the old
woman, her eyes brightening as she offered him
a seat beside the fire.

“Knew you ever so cold a day as this,
Elspeth? By the rood, but the frost bites keenly!
And you, how can you live in this cold cell? It
grieves me to see you here. Better it were that
you came to bide in our castle—you and Aasta.
This is no place for a dog to live in in frosty
weather. Where is Aasta? ‘Twas her I came
to see, for ] hear that she has news from Gigha.”

“ News indeed, Earl Kenric. But not alone
from Gigha. Roderic is even in Bute.”

“Tn Bute! When came he?”

“ Even this morning he was here in this cave.
And he has come hither to do you injury, my
lord.”

“Doubtless; for when came he to Bute with
other intent? Where can I find him?”

“That will I soon tell,” said Elspeth, “and
glad I am that so little time has been lost. You
will find him, my lord, at midnight on the
Garroch Head. Take with you your sword of
Somerled, and meeting him, send him speedily
to his deserved death. You will not fail. If
what I hear of your increased prowess with your
328 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

weapon be true, assuredly you are now a match
even for Roderic MacAlpin.”

“What takes him to Garroch at that dread
hour?”

“It is that he expects to meet Aasta.”

“ Aasta?”

“Even so, my lord.”

“And wherefore should Roderic have aught
to do with the maid?”

“You well may ask,” said Elspeth, “and it is
not willingly that I would have them meet. But
‘twas the only plan I could devise for getting
him from my presence and bringing him to a
place where you, my lord, may encounter him.
As to Aasta, of her and of Roderic I have
something strange to tell.”

Kenric looked up at Elspeth in surprise.

“You are young, my lord,” she continued,
“and you know not the things that have been.
But Iam old. Not always has it been with me
as you see me now. ‘Time was, my lord, when
I, who am now a poor infirm woman, decried as
a witch, despised of men, was a fair and joyous
young maid. My father was a king—”

“A king?” echoed Kenric.

“Even so. And he had his castle under the
Black Fell that is in far-off Iceland. Men
named me Elspeth White-arm, and my lord and
ELSPETH BLACKFELL. 329

husband was also a king. He was the noblest
and truest of all the monarchs of the North, and
he was the lord over the Westermann Islands.
We had one child, and we named her Sigrid the
Fair.”

“Elspeth, Elspeth, what is this that you are
saying?” cried Kenric, partly guessing what
was to come.

“ Sigrid was a wild and self-willed child,” the
old woman continued, fixing her blue eyes on
Kenric, “but I loved her well. And ona time
—'tis a full score and four years ago—she dis-
appeared, and we could find her nowhere, until
my lord went out upon his ship and boarded the
galley of a bold viking of the south whose name
was Rudri Alpinson, or, as the Scots called him,
Roderic MacAlpin. On Roderic’s galley was
Sigrid found; but she would not return, for she
loved this man Roderic passing well, knowing
little of his evil heart. My lord, in trying to
win her back, was slain by Roderic’s hand, and
thereupon Roderic carried away my child as his
willing captive to his island home in Gigha.
There he made her his wedded wife. But not
long had my lord been dead, not long had _ his
younger brother taken his place as ruler in our
land, when my heart so yearned for my fair
Sigrid that I took ship and came south in search
330 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

of her. By chance I landed upon your father’s
isle of Bute, for it was of Bute that Roderic had
spoken as the home of his fathers.

“The ship that brought me hither was the
ship of my brother, Rapp the Icelander. Him
I bade go over to Gigha and fulfil for me my
vengeance upon my enemy Roderic, and rescue
my daughter. But the people secretly told him
that Roderic had been cruel to Sigrid, and that
her love for him had vanished as the morning
mist. My child had lost her reason, and in her
mad despair she had gone out one day and cast
herself from the cliffs into the sea. Now Sigrid
had left two children, and it was said that they
were unhappy. So Rapp, searching for them,
with intent to carry them off and bring them
to me that J might be revenged upon their
father, found them one day playing in a great
rock tunnel in Gigha.”

“JT know the place,” said Kenric; “’twas
there that Aasta—”

“°?Twas there that Rapp the Icelander found
Earl Roderic’s bairns, and from thence he car-
ried them off. Those bairns, my lord, were
Aasta the Fair and the boy Lulach.”

“Aasta? Lulach?” cried Kenric in astonish-
ment, as he rose and began to pace the rocky
floor. “And they were brother and sister?
THE BLACK FROST ON ASCOG MERE. 331

And they were the children of Roderic—my own
cousins? This is a strange thing that you are
telling me, Elspeth, and I can scarce believe it!”

“Tis none the less true, my lord,” said
Elspeth.

“And Lulach—it was then his own father
who slew him! And it was her own father
whom Aasta fought against at Largs!”

“Even so. And pity ‘tis that she did not
kill him.”

“ Pity indeed,” said Kenric. “And now you
say that Roderic is in Bute?”

“He is here with intent to slay you, Earl
Kenric, in some such subtle way as he slew
your good father. But I have told you where
he will be at midnight. Go thither, I charge
you, and take the Thirsty Sword that Aasta
gave you. And may the blood of our enemy
Roderic be the last that it will drink.”

CHAPTER XXX.
THE BLACK FROST ON ASCOG MERE.

I ENRIC took old Elspeth back with him to
Rothesay, and there, as she would not
agree to take up her quarters within the castle,
332 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

he gave her a little cottage, bidding her remain
there in comfort for the rest of her days. As
to Aasta the Fair, he had no doubt in his mind
that on being told that she was his own cousin,
she would yield to him when he asked her to
make the castle of Rothesay her home, and he
at once besought his mother to make ‘prepara-
tions to receive her.

Late in the evening, the moon being at the
full, Allan and Ailsa Redmain, with Margery de
Currie, set out, attended by two-armed guards,
for the chapel of St. Blane’s, where midnight
mass was to be celebrated for the dying year.

Kenric, lesscheerful than his threecompanions,
went with them but a little distance. Leaving
them to continue their way through the dingle
of Lochly, he branched off eastward towards
Ascog. He wended his way across the bare
hard land, walking with rapid strides, for the
night was bitterly cold, and the wintry wind
made his cheeks tingle as he bent before it.
Under his sheepskin cloak that he held close
about his body, he carried his terrible sword.
He kept to thé leeward shelter of the rising
ground, but at times he was obliged to cross
the ridges of the bare hills, and there the wind,
sweeping over the wide moonlit firth, was like
the cutting of knife-blades upon his face. His
THE BLACK FROST ON ASCOG MERE. 333

breath, that gathered as dew upon the down of
his upper lip, was turned to beads of ice. The
streams and pools of water had shrunk into
solid icy masses, and the earth was unyielding
as granite rocks.

Still keeping to the uplands, he at length
entered into the woods of Ascog, and walked
among the dark trees until he stood above the
steep path leading downward to Elspeth’s cave.
He descended by the slippery ground, holding on
by the dry tree-branches. At the mouth of the
cave he stood awhile, stamping his feet that he
might be heard. But there was no response.
He drew aside the stiff hide curtain and looked
within. All was black, cold desolation.

“Aasta? Aasta?” he called. But no voice
answered him. He went inside the cave and
felt about for the place where he had seen
Elspeth leave the flint and steel. He lighted a
rush candle and looked about him. Everything
was as he had left it a few hours before. Aasta
had not returned. He found, here a little cap,
made of gay feathers and squirrel fur, that Aasta
was wont to wear; and there a necklace of
bright-hued sea-shells. In a corner there was
a pair of small slippers, trimmed with odd bits
of coloured silk, and lined with white hare-skin,
and beside them a girdle of crimson leather.
334 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

He looked upon these objects with strange re-
verence, but did not dare to touch them.

Then he went to the cave’s entrance and
stood with his shoulder leaning against the rock,
and looking dreamily across the Clyde towards
Largs. It was still two hours before midnight,
and believing that he was soon to encounter his
enemy Roderic in a hand-to-hand combat, he
felt a gloomy, melancholy spirit come upon him.
If Roderic should overcome him in the fight,
how would it be with the people of Bute? They
would never be happy under the tyrannical rule
of the bold sea-rover. What would become of
his mother? She would have to leave the castle
of Rothesay, and perhaps return, desolate and
alone, to England. Sir Allan Redmain, who was
now the steward of Bute, would never bend before
the man who had brought so much misfortune
upon the island. And Aasta, what of her?
Would she, who had nursed a hatred against
Roderic more bitter even than Kenric’s, would
she ever recognize this man as her father, how-
ever kind he might be to her? No, no. Kenric
knew not a man or woman in all the land who
would welcome his uncle as their king. No
evil could befall them greater than this.

But if Roderic should fall in the fight, there
might follow many, many years of peace and
THE BLACK FROST ON ASCOG MERE. 335

happiness in Bute. Kenric pictured what that
happiness might be. He pictured his people
living in safe prosperity, with thriving commerce
and fruitful farms; himself ruling, with what
wisdom or justice he possessed, over a contented
and law-abiding people—his mother living to a
ripe and happy old age in Rothesay Castle. Sir
Allan Redmain, his trusty steward and loved
friend, would be wedded to Margery de Currie.
Aasta would be happy too; he would love her
always as his very dear cousin, and who could
tell but that some day, when all her past troubles
were forgotten, she might marry some great and
good nobleman of Scotland, who would restore
her to such dignity as she deserved?

There was another of whom, deep in his heart,
Kenric thought very tenderly, and that other
was Ailsa Redmain. Both he and she were yet
young to think of such matters, but he loved her
right well, and in a few years’ time he might
even follow the example of her brother Allan
and take unto himself a wife. And if Ailsa
would yield to him— But he checked himself
in his dreams. All this possible good fortune
must depend upon the issue of his encounter
with Roderic. Standing there at the mouth of
the cave, he felt the sharp frost penetrating his



limbs, and he turned away.
336 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

Regaining the higher ground he began to
run, and soon his feet grew warm. Slackening
his pace, he walked down towards Ascog Loch,
listening the while for the sounds of Aasta’s
footsteps. Elspeth had told him that the maiden
would surely return to the cave two hours before
midnight. But she had not come. Had some
disaster overtaken her? Whither had she gone?

The story that Elspeth Blackfell had told
him had sunk deep in his mind. It explained
many things that had before been mysteries to
him. He saw in it an explanation of why he
had been drawn in affection towards Aasta, and
why, in spite of her having been a bondmaid, he
had recognized that she was of gentle blood.
He was glad that he had given her freedom
from her thraldom. And now he thought of
how she had bestowed upon him the great
sword of his noble ancestor, and reflected that
king Somerled was in truth Aasta’s ancestor no
less than his own. How sweet it was to think
of the journey he had gone with her over to
Gigha, the home from which as a child she had
been carried off with Lulach! It was easy now
to understand how she had recognized that rock
tunnel through which the little coracle had been
paddled. Aasta had thought that she had but
seen the place in a dream-vision, but haply she
THE BLACK FROST ON ASCOG MERE, 337

had many a time played among those rocky
caverns in her infant days.

And now he was going forth with intent to
kill Aasta’s father, believing that to be the only
means by which Aasta’s happiness and the wel-
fare of his people of Bute and Gigha could be
secured. Aasta herself had tried to slay this
man; she had fought with him upon the ships at |
the siege of Rothesay; she had engaged with him
hand to hand in the battle of Largs. She did
not then know that Roderic was her own parent;
but Roderic had done nothing that could have
power to change his daughter’s hatred into love,
and even if she were now restored to him, would
she ever forgive him the injuries he had done?
Kenric turned this question over in his mind,
wondering if Aasta would blame him if it should
be that he brought her father to his death with-
out first allowing her to speak with him, and for
this reason he was ill at ease. But Aasta was
nowhere to be found, and Kenric well under-
stood what ills might follow if he missed this
chance that Elspeth Blackfell had afforded him
of encountering his dread foe.

He was presently upon the shore of Ascog
Mere, whose surface was now frozen over with
thick clear ice. The black frost of the past

night and day had taken into its firm grip the
(746) x
338 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

waters of every lake and torrent in the island.
Even the distant murmur of the waterfalls of ’
Arran was hushed into silence now, and all
around was deathly still. The wind had sunk
into a whisper and the few fleecy white clouds
up above glided like ghosts across the deep-blue
sky. High over the snowy peaks of the Arran
mountains the full moon shone like a great silver
shield and cast its radiance upon the glassy
surface of the lake. The wintry night was
almost as light as day, and every rock and tree
stood out distinct and black.

Kenric left the uneven ground and stepped
upon the thick strong ice, which was so clear at
the edge that he could even see the shadowy
reeds below. He walked outward with steady
steps, and bent his course southward in the
shimmering track of the moon’s light. The lake
was very deep, but Kenric had no fear, for the
ice was many inches thick and his foothold was
sure. ;

As he reached the middle of the lake, where
no sound came to him but the regular tread of
his soft hide shoes and the tinkling ring of the
ice, a feeling of awe came over him. He
solemnly remembered that it was the last hour
of the passing year—it might also be his last
hour upon earth. He was not afraid; but the
THE BLACK FROST ON ASCOG MERE. 339

deadly silence, the wan light of the moon, the
piercing cold, his lonely situation upon that
shining stretch of ice, and his knowledge that
he would soon be engaged in a mortal combat,
whose results must determine so much for him-
self and for his people, oppressed his mind very
strangely; nor could he dismiss from his thoughts
the surprising things that he had heard that day
concerning Aasta the Fair.

Suddenly, as he looked before him towards
the shore that he was approaching, he was
startled at seeing a black shadow upon the ice.
It was as though some human being were lying
there. He saw the figure move. Slowly,
stealthily it crept towards him. Kenric stood
still, taking off his fur gauntlets and putting his
hand to his sword. Then the figure crept more
rapidly. Nearer and yet nearer itcame. He
saw now that it was a large animal. Its
glistening eyes and long legs showed that it was
a wolf. He drew his sword and went to meet
it. The wolf growled as in hungry anger, and
crouched down as though preparing to spring
upon him. Kenric raised his sword to strike,
the wolf bounded forward, and as his weapon
was about to descend upon its head the animal
swerved. The moon's light revealed a white
patch of hair upon its breast.
340 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

Kenric staggered backward, unwilling now to
strike.

“Aasta!” he cried. ‘“Aasta? The were-
wolf?”

At the same moment he loosed his grip of the
sword, and the weapon, impelled by the force
his arm had given it, flew from his hand, and
falling upon the slippery ice skated along for
many yards, making a noise like the chirping of
a vast flock of finches.

Kenric stepped back yet further and stood
ready to meet the wolf, and, if need were, grapple
with it. But the animal, startled at the sound
made by the sliding sword, ran off towards the
shore and quickly disappeared among the
shadows of the trees.

What was the meaning of that wolf being
there upon the ice? Kenric stood in confused
wonderment. And if, as he half-supposed, this
white-breasted animal was not as other wolves,
which fear to tread on ice—if it was in very
truth the were-wolf form which the wild Aasta
had power to assume, why had she not recog-
nized him? Why had she run away? Was it
that she had now taken to the cover of the woods,
that she might presently reappear in her own
maidenly figure? There was something in all
this that passed his understanding.
THE BLACK FROST ON ASCOG MERE. 341

He followed a few paces in the direction taken
by the wolf, then, remembering his sword, he
turned aside. He looked about upon the clear
icy surface for his weapon. The force that his
arm had given it had sent it far away towards
the margin of the mere, to the same spot, indeed,
where the were-wolf had first been seen. At
last he saw the shining blade lying in the midst
of the line of light shed by the bright moon
upon the polished ice. He went towards it and
bent down to pick it up. The ice where it lay
was smooth and transparent as a sheet of glass,
and it seemed to Kenric as he bent over it that
he saw in it the reflection of his own face. So
distinct were the features that he recoiled in
sudden alarm. Then he fell down upon his
knees, resting upon his outstretched hands. He
fixed his astonished eyes upon the face in the
ice. A wild cry escaped him. The face was
not his own!

Drawing back for a moment he looked once
more at the strange image. The rounded cheeks
were white as snow; the eyes were motionless
and glassy; the beautiful bloodless lips, slightly
parted, revealed a row of pearly teeth. It was
the face of Aasta the Fair.

Kenric tried to touch her, to take her in his
arms. But the intervening ice inclosed her as
342 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

in a crystal casket. He saw that the stray
locks of her long hair, floating in the clear water,
had been caught by the quick frost, and that
they were now held within the firm thick ice.
Upon her fair white throat there were marks as
of a man’s rough fingers. She held her right
hand upon her breast, and in its grasp there was
a long sharp dirk.

Kenric rose and stood looking down upon the
beautiful form of the dead girl, He was as one
who had been stunned by a terrible blow. For
many minutes he stood there mute and motion-
less, with folded hands and bowed head. Soon
a snowy cloud passed before the moon and cast
a dark shadow upon the ice. The imprisoned
image seemed to melt away. Yet Kenric knew
that what he had seen was no illusion, but that
Aasta the Fair lay lifeless in her frost-bound
tomb.

Then Kenric thought of his enemy—who was
surely Aasta’s enemy even more than his own—
and he gripped his sword. ;

“T will come back,” he murmured sadly as he
cast once more a lingering glance upon the
now indistinct figure beneath the ice. “I will
come back, Aasta. And now,a truce to all fear.
Let me now meet this man and slay him, for
there is no one who can now mourn for his death.
THE LAST DREAD FIGHT. 343

It is right that he should die, for the hour of
retribution has surely come!”

CHAPTER XXXI.
THE LAST DREAD FIGHT.

OT long was Kenric in covering the few
miles between Loch Ascog and Garroch
Head. He feared to be too late, for it was
already but one short hour before midnight.
But his limbs were cold, and he had therefore a
double reason for running. Soon,instead of being
too cold he became over-hot; his heavy sheep-
skin cloak oppressed him, and he threw it off, leav-
ing it lying upon the ground. Thus relieved, he
slung his sword under his arm and ran on and on
past the silent farmsteads, over hard ploughed
fields and bare moorland, past the desolate Circle
of Penance, and past the littlechapel of St. Blane’s,
where many islanders were already gathered to
join in the New Year service. Then for another
short mile beyond the abbey he hastened, until
from the rising ground he came in sight of the
murmuring, moonlit sea. Now he slackened
his pace to a brisk walk, and skirting the line of
344 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

cliffs he presently came upon the rocky head-
land of Garroch.

His whole body was in a warm glow; his
breath came regular and strong from the depths
of his broad chest. He felt himself better fitted
for battle, more powerful of limb than he had
ever done before, and never had he entered into
combat with a fuller sense of the justice of the
approaching encounter. He looked about the
bald headland to left and right, but Roderic was
not yet to be seen. Kenric’s heart sank within
him in anxious disappointment. But as he ap-
proached the extreme angle of the cape, he saw
a tall cloaked figure appear from behind the
shelter of a dark rock.

Roderic came slowly towards him, blowing
his warm breath into his cold, crisped fists.
Kenric’s face was in shadow, and the outlaw did
not recognize him.

“So,” said Roderic, “ Elspeth Blackfell has
not this time deceived me, eh? ’Twas she who
sent you here, young man?”

“Tt was,” Kenric replied.

“And how happens it that she sent not the
maid Aasta?”

“Twas beyond her power, Earl Roderic,”
answered Kenric in a quivering voice.

“What?” cried Roderic surlily, “beyond her
THE LAST DREAD FIGHT. 345

power? Tell me no lies. The old crone is but
playing some witch’s trick upon me. Where is
my daughter, J say? where is my child?”

“ Aasta the Fair, Heaven rest her soul! now
sleeps beneath the cold ice of Ascog Loch,” said
Kenric solemnly; “she is dead.”

A sudden hoarse cry from Roderic followed
these words.

“Dead?” he echoed, ‘dead, you say, and
under the ice of the loch?”

“ Even so,” replied the youth, keeping his eye
fixed upon Roderic’s movements. “’Tis but a
little time since that I saw her lying in the frozen
waters.”

Roderic staggered back a pace, wildly. He
tugged at the neck of his cloak as though it were
stifling him. “Ah, God forgive me!” he wailed.
“Alas, twas she—’twas then my own child who
so wildly attacked me yesternight! “Iwas my
own Aasta who so boldly fought against me at
Largs. ’Twas she whom I took captive in my
ship from Rothesay. And ’twas she also who
cursed me over at Barone—ay, cursed her own
father! Great God, the curse has come true!
For my own two children have been slain before
my eyes—first Lulach, then herself—and I their
father slew them both!”

«“ What means this?” cried Kenric, growing
346 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

pale in the moonlight and grasping his sword.
“You slew Aasta? you? Oh, villain!”

“Ah, that voice! methinks I know it,” said
Roderic, starting in surprise and turning upon
Kenric. “So then ’tis you, young Kenric, that
is Dame Elspeth’s messenger? Much do I
thank her for so promptly helping me. By St.
Olaf, but this is most fortunate. Hal! no need
have you to draw your sword. It will serve
you no purpose now. As well might you seek
to move Goatfell as think of holding your own
against Roderic MacAlpin.”

But Kenric, learning thus how Aasta had
come by her terrible fate, felt his craving for
battle grow stronger. He spoke no word, but
stood with his naked weapon ready in his hands.

Roderic threw off his heavy cloak and drew
his sword. The moonlight shone in his fierce
eyes as he looked upon the strong young form
of his antagonist. From the shore at the foot
of the cliff came the mournful sighing of the
rising tide. For a few moments the two warriors
faced each other in silence. Then like a pair of
rival stags they stamped their feet upon the
frozen ground. Roderic tried to get Kenric
round with the moonlight upon him. But Kenric
stood firm as a rock. Their weapons crossed,
scraping each upon the other, pressing easily to
THE LAST DREAD FIGHT. 347-

right and left,and always touching. Then Roderic
made a sudden step backward; the swords were
point to point. Swiftly, at the same instant,
each raised his weapon above his head, grasping
its handle with his two strong hands, and fling-
ing it back till his elbows were on a level with
his crown. They rushed together, each taking
two steps forward. Their two swords swished
through the air; but Kenric’s glanced aside with
a quick movement of his strong wrists, and
caught Roderic’s weapon in mid-blade with a
ringing clash.

“Well guarded!” muttered Roderic grudg-
ingly. “ By the saints, but you are no weakling
novice, young man,” and he stepped back again
to recover.

Now it was not without profit that, on that
time many months before, Kenric had watched
the fatal duel between Roderic and his brother
Alpin, and he knew Roderic’s invariable trick of
aiming at his assailant’s head. His successful
guarding of the first blow gave him confidence.

Again the two combatants closed as before,
tapping and scraping their blades together; and
again they flung back their arms. This time
Roderic was quicker in his onslaught, and he
aimed from the right. But Kenric, instead of
attempting to strike, promptly guarded his left
348 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

and intercepted the blow as before. Ere Roderic
could recover for a new attack, he felt a sharp
cut across his bare neck. He roared in pain
and fury, and sprang upon Kenric with redoubled
force. The swords clashed together with mighty
strokes. Roderic, amazed at Kenric’s skilful
fighting, grew ever more rash in his attempts to
smite him down and conquer him by superior
strength; while Kenric, with steady watchful
eye, marked every movement, coolly guarding
each fearful blow, as though he knew as surely
as did his assailant where Roderic intended to
strike.

At last, completely baffled, Roderic paused,
drew back, and rested the point of his long
sword upon the hard ground.

“To the death!” said Kenric solemnly, also
lowering his weapon.

“ Ay, to your death be it,” returned Roderic,
wiping the blood from his wounded neck with
his bare hand. Then again, breathing deeply,
he took his ground.

Clash, clash went their mighty swords once
more as they closed together in their deadly
combat. And now Roderic threw back his
weapon with a great swing, and bent his strong
body to bring the blade down with a final swoop
upon Kenric’s head. He made a furious spring
THE LAST DREAD FIGHT. 349

forward. His sword flashed in a half-circle,
whizzing through the air with frightful speed.
It was a blow that might have felled an ox.
But the ponderous weapon met nothing until,
slipping from his blood-wet hand, it fell with a
crash upon the hard ground. At the same mo-
ment Roderic uttered a groan. He staggered
forward with his empty hands outspread. He
fell with a heavy thud upon his right shoulder,
rolled over, and then lay stretched upon the
turf with the point of Kenric’s sword buried
deep in his heart. A deathly silence followed,
broken only by the moaning of the sea-waves
as they curled upon the beach. Kenric breathed
a deep sigh. With difficulty he drew his terrible
weapon from the breast of his dead foe. The
Thirsty Sword had drunk its final draught.

Carrying the weapon away, Kenric stood for
many moments upon the extreme point of the
jutting headland overlooking the open sea.
Taking the Sword in his two hands he swung it
in a sweeping circle about his head, and stepping
forward flung it far out into the frosty air. Away
it sped like a well-aimed arrow. The moon-
beams flashed upon the bright blade as it turned
in its descent, hilt downward, and plunged for
ever deep, deep into the sea.

Then Kenric stood awhile with clasped hands,
350 THE THIRSTY SWORD.

looking far across to the Arran fells, whose
snowy mantles glanced like silver under the
silent moon. From the distance behind him
he heard the faint tinkling of the chapel bell,
telling him that the old year, with its turmoil
and trouble, was at its end; and he dropped
down upon his knees and covered his face with
his hands.

It was scarcely half an hour after midnight
when Kenric walked towards the arched door-
way of St. Blane’s chapel. As he drew near he
saw the dim light within, shining through the
narrow windows of coloured glass, and he heard
the solemn murmur of prayer. He was about
to enter when a hand was suddenly laid upon
his shoulder.

“°’Tis you, my lord?” said the voice of Els-
peth Blackfell. “Then it must surely be that
you have fought and vanquished. God be
thanked! I feared that it had gone ill with you,
for I found your cloak lying upon the heath.
Where is the villain Roderic?”

“ Roderic is no more!” answered Kenric,
taking his cloak from her hands. “ And now I
go within the chapel to give thanks to God, in
that He hath deigned to make me the instru-
ment of His vengeance.”
THE LAST DREAD FIGHT. 351

“Stay. Ere you enter, tell me, my lord, have
you news of my dear Aasta? She has not yet
been seen: nor has our watch-wolf Lufa been
found. Alas! I fear me the wild maid has gone
off to Gigha.”

“Not so,” said Kenric. ‘“ But come with me
within the chapel, good Elspeth, and when the
service is over I will tell you all.”

He. gently pushed open the door and drew
Elspeth with him. They stood there, looking
in at the many rough islanders with their heads
bent in devotion. The sonorous voice of the
venerable abbot resounded in the vaulted aisle.
The cruse-lamps hanging from the high rafters
shed their dim light upon the bare stone walls,
where branches of red-berried holly were en-
twined with tufts of larch and spruce and sprays
of mistletoe. The flickering light of many tapers
shone upon the embroidered vestments of the
abbot and the gorgeous altar-cloth.

Presently the prayer ended; the people rose
with shuffling feet. Sir Allan Redmain from his
seat in front of the altar looked anxiously round
towards the door, as he had done many times
during that service, in search of Kenric. He
now saw the bent figure of Elspeth Blackfell,
and behind her the young king.

As Kenric, leading Elspeth forward, walked
352 ' ‘THE THIRSTY SWORD.

slowly up the aisle, Allan did not fail to notice
that his sword was not in its accustomed place.
The abbot paused until Earl Kenric had taken
his seat between Sir Allan Redmain and Ailsa.

Kenric caught Ailsa’s hand and drew it
gently to him. He looked down into her eyes
as she turned to smile upon him. Then from
the choir of white-robed friars there rose the
chant of the Gloria in Excelsis, swelling full and
strong. To Kenric, as he stood by Ailsa’s side,
the words came with a deep prophetic meaning
—“ Gloria in excelsts Deo, et in terré pax hon-
nibus bonae voluntatis.’ And on that first early
dawn of the new year, as he left the holy place
to return to his ancestral home, he repeated them
again, looking round him on the land for which
his sword had won tranquillity:

“Glory to God in the highest, and on earth
peace towards men of good-will.”

THE END,






























BLACKIE & SON’S
BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.

BY G. A. HENTY.

Beric the Briton: A Story of the Roman Invasion. By
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This story deals with the invasion of Britain by the Roman legionaries.
Berie, who is a boy-chief of a British tribe, takes a prominent part in the
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A.D. 62) he continues the struggle in the fen-country. Ultimately Berie
is defeated and carried captive to Rome, where he is trained in the exereise
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protector of Nero. Finally he escapes from this irksome service, organizes
a band of outlaws in Calabria, defies the power of Rome, and at length
returns to Britain, where he becomes a wise ruler of his own people.

In Greek Waters: A Story of the Grecian War of Inde-
pendence (1821-1827). By G. A. Henry. With 12 page Illus-
trations by W. S. Staczy, and a Map. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant,
olivine edges, 6s.

A large part of this story deals with the revolt of the Grecks, in 1821,
against Turkish oppression. Mr. Beveridge and his son Horace, like most
Englishmen at that time, are stirred with enthusiasm for the down-trodden
nation. So they fit out a privateer, load it with military stores, and set
sail for Greece to assist the insurgents. On their arrival, however, they
find that the leaders of the insurrection are a cowardly, thieving, blood-
thirsty crew. So they resolve to hold aloof from polities, and give all
possible assistance to the victims of war, both Grecks and Turks. They
rescue the Christians who are beleaguered in the island of Cyprus, assist
the Turkish garrison in Athens, relieve the captive Grecks who are being
sent to the slave markets, destroy ‘urkish shipping, and fight the Turkish
war vessels. The story is full of stirring adventure, and will delight the

boy who loves the sea, and the hazards of seafaring.
A
2 BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.



BY G. A. HENTY.
“Mr. Henty is one of the best of story-tellers for young people.” —Spectator.



Redskin and Cow-boy: A Tale of the Western Plains. By
G. A. Henry. With 12 page Illustrations by ALYRED PEARSE.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.

“Té has a good plot; it abounds in action; the scenes are equally spirited and
realistic, and we can only say we have read it with much pleasure from first to
jast. The pictures of life on a cattle ranche are most graphically painted, as are
the manners of the reckless but jovial cow-boys.”—Times.

The Dash for Khartoum: A Tale of the Nile Expedition.
By G. A. Henry. With 10 page Illustrations by J. Scaénpere and
J. Nasu, and 4 Plans. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.

“The Dash for Khartoum is your ideal boys’ book.” —Tablet.

“Tt is literally true that the narrative never flags a moment; for the incidents
which fall to be recorded after the dash for Khartoum has been made and failed
are quite as interesting as those which precede it. The characters of all the per-
sons are remarkably life-like.” —Academy.

By England’s Aid: The Freeing of the Netherlands (1585-
1604). By G. A. Henry. With 10 page Illustrations by ALFRED
Pearse, and 4 Maps. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.

“Boys know and love Mr. Henty's books of adventure, and will welcome his
tale of the Freeing of the Netherlands.” —Athencwum.

“The story is told with great animation, and the historical material is most
effectively combined with a most excellent plot. The maps and woodcuts are
excellent illustrations.”"—Saturday Review.

By Right of Conquest: Or, With Cortez in Mexico. By
G. A. Henry. With 10 page Illustrations by W. 5. Sracry, and
2 Maps. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.

“Mr, Henty’s skill has never been more convincingly displayed than in this
admirable and ingenious story.”—Saturday Review.

“ By Right of Conquest is the nearest approach toa perfectly successful histori-
cal tale that Mr. Henty has yet published.”—
With Lee in Virginia: A Story of the American Civil
War. By G.A. Henry. With 10 page Illustrations by Gorpow
Browne, and 6 Maps. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.

“The story is a capital one and full of variety, and presents us with many
picturesque scenes of Southern life. Young Wingfield, who is conscientious,
spirited, and ‘hard as nails,’ would have been a man after the very heart of
Stonewall Jackson.”—Times.

By Pike and Dyke: A Tale of the Rise of the Dutch Re-
public. By G. A. Henry. With 10 page Illustrations by MayNarD
Brown, and 4 Maps. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.

“The mission of Ned to deliver letters from William the Silent to his adherents
at Brussels, the fight of the Good Venture with the Spanish man-of-war, the battle
on the ice at Amsterdam, the siege of Haarlem, are all told with a vividness and
skill, which are worthy of Mr. Henty at his best,”—dAcademy.
BLACKIE & SONS BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 3



BY G. A. HENTY.

“Surely Mr. Henty should understand boys’ tastes better than any man living.”
—The Times.

With Clive in India: Or, The Beginnings of an- Empire.
By G. A. Henry. With 12 page Tllustrations by Gorpow Browne.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.

** Among writers of stories of adventure for boys Mr. Henty stands in the very
first rank. Those who know something about India will be the most ready to
thank Mr. Henty for giving them this instructive volume to place in the hands
of their children.” —Academy.

The Lion of St. Mark: A Tale of Venice in the Fourteenth
Century. By G. A. Henry. With 10 page Illustrations by GorDON
Brownz. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.

“Every boy should read The Lion of St. Mark. Mr, Henty has never produced
any story more delightful, more wholesome, or more vivacious. From first to
last it will be read with keen enjoyment.”—The Saturday Review.

Under Drake’s Flag: A Tale of the Spanish Main. By
G. A. Hunry. Illustrated by 12 page Pictures by Gorpon BRownE.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.

“There is not a dull chapter, nor, indeed, a dull page in the book; but the
author has so carefully worked up his subject that the exciting deeds of his
heroes are never incongruous or absurd.”—Observer.

Bonnie Prince Charlie: A Tale of Fontenoy and Culloden.
By G. A. Hunry. With 12 page Illustrations by Gorpon Browne.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.

“Ronald, the hero, is very like the hero of Quentin Durward. The lad’s
journey across France with his faithful attendant Malcolm, and his hairbreadth
escapes from the machinations of his father’s enemies, make up as good a
narrative of the kind as we have ever read. For freshness of treatment and
variety of incident, Mr. Henty has here surpassed himself.” —Spectator.

For the Temple: A Tale of the Fall of Jerusalem. By
G. A. Henty. With 10 page Mlustrations by 8. J. Sonomon, and
a Coloured Map. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.

“Mr. Henty’s graphic prose pictures of the hopeless Jewish resistance to Roman
sway adds another leaf to his record of the famous wars of the world. ‘Che book
is one of Mr. Henty’s cleverest efforts.” —@raphic.

True to the Old Flag: A Tale of the American War of
Independence. By G. A. Hunry. With 12 page Illustrations by
Gornon BrownE. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.

“Does justice to the pluck and determination of the British soldiers, The son
of an American loyalist, who remains true to our flag, falls among the hostile red-
skins in that very Huron country which has been endeared to us by the exploits
of Hawkeye and Chingachgook.”—The Times,
4 BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.





BY G. A. HENTY.

* Among writers of stories of adventure for boys Mr. Ifenty stands in the very
first rank.” —Academy.

The Lion of the North: A Tale of Gustavus Adolphus and
the Wars of Religion. By G. A. Henry. With 12 page Pictures
by J. Scuénzere. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.

“A praiseworthy attempt to interest British youth in the great deeds of the

Scotch Brigade in the wars of Gustavus Adolphus. Mackay, Hepburn, and Munro

live again in Mr. Henty’s pages, as those deserve to live whose disciplined bands
formed really the germ of the modern British army.”—Athencewm.,

The Young Carthaginian: Hannibal. By G. A. Hunty. With 12 page Illustrations by C. J.
STANILAND, B.I. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.

“The effect of an interesting story, well constructed and vividly told, is en-
hanced by the picturesque quality of the scenic background. From first to last

nothing stays the interest of the narrative. It bears us along as on a stream,
whose current varies in direction, but never loses its force.”—Saturday Review.

With Wolfe in Canada: Or, The Winning of a Continent.
By G. A. Henry. With 12 page Illustrations by Gorpon Browns.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.

“A model of what a boys’ story-book should be. Mr. Henty has a great power
of infusing into the dead facts of history new life, and as no pains are spared by
him to ensure accuracy in historic details, his books supply useful aids to study
as well as amusement,”—School Guardian.

In Freedom’s Cause: A Story of Wallace and Bruce. By
G. A. Henty. With 12 page Illustrations by Gorpon Browns,
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.

“Mr. Henty has broken new ground as an historical novelist. His tale of the
days of Wallace and Bruce is full of stirring action, and will commend itself to
boys,” —A thenewn."

Through the Fray: A Story of the Luddite Riots. By
G. A. Henry. With 12 page Illustrations by H. M. Pacer. Crown
8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.

“Mr. Henty inspires a love and admiration for straightforwardness, truth, and
courage. This is one of the best of the many good books Mr. Henty has produced,
and deserves to be classed with his Facing Death.” —Standard,

Captain Bayley’s Heir: A Tale of the Gold Fields of Cali-
fornia. By G. A, Henry, With 12 page Illustrations by H. M.
Pacer. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.

‘A Westminster boy who makes his way in the world by hard work, good

temper, and unfailing courage. The descriptions given of life ave just what a
healthy intelligent lad should delight in.”—S¢t. James's Gazette.
BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 5



BY G. A. HENTY.

“Mr. Henty is one of our most successful writers of historical tales. —Scotsman.

Condemned as a Nihilist: A Story of Escape from Siberia.
By G. A. Henry. With 8 page Illustrations by Waurer Pacer.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.

Godfrey Bullen, the hero of this story, is an English boy resident in St.
Petersburg. Through two student friends he becomes innocently involved
in various political plots, resulting in his seizure by the Russian police,
and his exile to Siberia. He is conveyed to the most remote part of that
northern wilderness, and placed in a convict settlement. After a first un-
successful attempt to escape he gives himself up to the Russian authorities
at the mines of Kara. He again escapes; walks eight hundred miles till
he reaches the Angara river; buys a canoe from the fisher-folk; sails down
the Siberian rivers for a thousand miles; coasts along the arctic shores of
Russia, and at last, after many exciting adventures with wolves, bears, and
hostile Samoyedes, he reaches Norway, and thence home, after a perilous
journey which lasts nearly two years.

Held Fast for England: A Tale of the Siege of Gibraltar.
By G. A. Henry. With 8 page Illustrations by Gorpon Browne,
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.

“Among them we would place first in interest and wholesome educational
value the story of the siege of Gibraltar. . . . There is no cessation of exciting
incident throughout the story.”—Athenewm.

One of the 28th: A Tale of Waterloo. By G. A. Huyry.
With 8 page Illustrations by W. H. OverenD, and 2 Maps. Crown
8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.

“Written with Homeric vigour and heroic inspiration, It is graphic, pictur-
esque, and dramatically effective . . . shows us Mr, Henty at his best and
brightest. The adventures will hold a boy of a winter's night enthralled as he
rushes through them with breathless interest ‘from cover to cover.’”—Observer.

The Cat of Bubastes: A Story of Ancient Egypt. By
G. A. Heyty. With 8 page Illustrations by J. R. Weevenin.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.

“The story, from the critical moment of the killing of the sacred cat to the

perilous exodus into Asia with which it closes, is very skilfully constructed and
full of exciting adventures. It is admirably illustrated.”—Saturday Review.

Maori and Settler: A Story of the New Zealand War. By
G. A. Henry. With 8 page Illustrations by Atrrep Pranrss, and
a Map. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
“Tt is a book which all young people, but especially boys, will read with .
avidity.” Atheneum.

“4 first-rate book for boys, brimful of adventure, of humorous and interesting
conversation, and of vivid pictures of colonial life.”—Schoolmaster.
6 BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.



BY G. A. HENTY.
“Mr. Henty is the king of story-tellers for boys.”—Sword and Trowel.

St. George for England: A Tale of Cressy and Poitiers,
By G. A. Henry. With 8 full-page Illustrations by Gorpon
Browne. Crown 8yvo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.

“Mr. Henty’s historical novels for boys bid fair to supplement, on their behalf,
the historical labours of Sir Walter Scott in the land of fiction.”—Standard.

“A story of very great interest for boys. In his own forcible style the author
has endeavoured to show that determination and enthusiasm can accomplish mar-
vellous results; and that courage is generally accompanied by magnanimity and
gentleness.” —Padl Mall Gazette. :

The Bravest of the Brave: With Peterborough in Spain.
By G. A. Henry. With 8 full-page Pictures by H. M. Pacer.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.

‘Mr. Henty never loses sight of the moral purpose of his work—to enforce the
doctrine of courage and truth, mercy and lovingkindness, as indispensable to the
making of an English gentleman. British lads will read The Bravest of the
Brave with pleasure and profit; of that we are quite sure.” —Daily Telegraph.

For Name and Fame: Or, Through Afghan Passes. By
G. A. Huyry. With 8 full-page Illustrations by Gorpow Brownz.

Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s,

“The best feature of the book, apart from its scenes of adventure, is its honest
effort to do justice to the patriotism of the Afghan people.”—Daily News.

‘Not only a rousing story, replete with all the varied forms of excitement of a
campaign, but, what is still more useful, an account of a territory and its inhabi-
tants which must for a long time possess a supreme interest for Englishmen, as
being the key to our Indian Empire.”—Glasgow Herald.

In the Reign of Terror: The Adventures of a Wéstminster
Boy. By G. A. Henry. With 8 full-page Illustrations by J.
ScuonBerc. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.

“Harry Sandwith, the Westminster boy, may fairly be said to beat Mr. Henty’s
record. His adventures will delight boys by the audacity and peril they depict.
The story is one of Mr. Henty’s best.”—Saturday Review.

Orange and Green: A Tale of the Boyne and Limerick.
By G. A. Henry. With 8 full-page Illustrations by Gorpon
Browye. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s,

“An extremely spirited story, based on the struggle in Ireland, rendered
memorable by the defence of ‘Derry and the siege of Limerick.” —Sat, Review,

‘‘The narrative is free from the vice of prejudice, and ripples with life as
vivacious as if what is being described were really passing before the eye. ase
Should be in the hands of every young student of Irish history.”—Belfast News.

By Sheer Pluck: A Tale of the Ashanti War. By G. A.
Henry. With 8 full-page Pictures by Gorpon Browne. Crown

8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.

“By Sheer Pluck will be eagerly read. The author’s personal knowledge of the
west coast has been turned to good advantage,”"—A thenwum.

‘‘Morally, the book is everything that could be desired, setting before the boys
a bright and bracing ideal of the English gentleman.”—Christian Leader.
BLACKIE & SON’S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 7



BY G. A. HENTY.
“Myr. Henty is the king of story-tellers for boys.’— Sword and Trowel.



The Dragon and the Raven: Or, The Days of King
Alfred. By G. A. Hunty. With 8 page Illustrations by C. J.
STANILAND, BI. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.

“A story that may justly be styled remarkable. Boys, in reading it, will be
surprised to find how Alfred persevered, through years of bloodshed and times

of peace, to rescue his people from the thraldom of the Danes. We hope the
book will soon be widely known in all our schools.”—Schoolmaster.

A Final Reekoning: A Tale of Bush Life in Australia.
By G. A. Henry. With 8 page Illustrations by W. B. Wouen.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.

“ All boys will read this story with eager and unflagging interest. The episodes
are in Mr. Henty’s very best vein—graphic, exciting, yealistic; and, as in all Mr.
Henty’s books, the tendency is to the formation of an honourable, manly, and
even heroic character.” Birmingham Post.

Facing Death: Or, The Hero of the Vaughan Pit. A Tale of
the Coal Mines. By G. A. Hznry. With 8 page Pictures by
Gorpon Browns. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.

“If any father, godfather, clergyman, or schoolmaster is on the look-out for a
good book to give asa present to a boy who is worth his salt, this is the book we
would recommend,”—Standard.

A Chapter of Adventures: Or, Through the Bombard-
ment of Alexandria. By G. A. Henry. With 6 page Illustrations
by W. H. Overgnp. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d.

“The ‘experience of Jack Robson and his two companions in the streets of
Alexandria when Arabi’s rioters filled the city is capitally told. They have their
fill of excitement, and their chapter of adventures is so brisk and entertaining we
could have wished it longer than it is."—Saturday Review.



Grettir the Outlaw: A Story of Iceland. By 8. Barine-
Gounp. With 10 page Illustrations by M. Zeno Diemer, and a
Coloured Map. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.

“Ts the boys’ book of its year. That is, of course, as much as to say that it
will do for men grown as well as juniors. It is told in simple, straightforward
English, as all stories should be, and it has a freshness, a freedom, a sense of sun
and wind and the open air, which make it irresistible.”—National Observer.



Two Thousand Years Ago: Or, The Adventures of a Roman
Boy. By Professor A. J. Cuurcy. With 12 page Illustrations by
ApRIEN Manin. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.

« Adventures well worth the telling. The book is extremely entertaining as
well as useful, and there is a wonderful freshness in the Roman scenes and
characters.’—The Times.
8 BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.



BY GEORGE MAC DONALD.

A Rough Shaking. By Gzorcz MacDowanp. With
12 page Illustrations by W. Parkinson. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant,
olivine edges, 68.

“One of Mr. Mac Donald’s wonderful and charming stories.”—Athenceum.

“‘One of the very best books for boys that has been written. It is full of mate-
rial peculiarly well adapted for the young, containing in a marked degree, the
elements of all that is necessary to make up a perfect boys’ book.”—T'eachers’ Aid.

At the Back of the North Wind. By Geores Mac
Donatp, With 75 Illustrations by Artaur HucHes. Crown
8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.

“In At the Back of the North Wind we stand with one foot in fairyland and
one on common earth. The story is thoroughly original, full of fancy and pathos,
and underlaid with earnest but not too obtrusive teaching.”—The Times.

Ranald Bannerman’s Boyhood. By Gzorez MacDonatp.
With 36 Illustrations by ArTrHUR HucHss. Crown 8vo, cloth ele-
gant, olivine edges, 5s.

“The sympathy with boy-nature in Ranald Bannerman’s Boyhood is perfect.
It‘is a beautiful picture of childhood, teaching by its impressions and suggestions
all noble things.”—British Quarterly Review.

The Princess and the Goblin. By Gzorez MacDonaxp.
With 32 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.

“Little of what is written for children has the lightness of touch and play of
fancy which are characteristic of George Mac Donald’s fairy tales. Mr. Arthur
Hughes's illustrations are all that illustrations should be.”—Manchester Guardian.

The Princess and Curdie. By Grorce Mac Donatn.
With 8 page Illustrations Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.

“There is the finest and rarest genius in this brilliant story. Upgrown people
would do wisely occasionally to lay aside their newspapers and magazines to
spend an hour with Curdie and the Princess,”—Shefield Independent.



BY SARAH DOUDNEY.

Under False Colours. By Saran Doupyzy. With 12
page Illustrations by G. G. Kinzurnz, Crown 8vo, cloth elegant,
olivine edges, 6s.

“This is a charming story, abounding in delicate touches of sentiment and
pathos. Its plot is skilfully contrived. It will be read with a warm interest by
every girl who takes it up.”—Seotsman.

“Sarah Doudney has no superior as a writer of high-toned stories—pure in
style, original in conception, and with skilfully wrought-out plots; but we have

ae nothing from her pen equal in dramatic energy to this book.”—Christian
eater.
BLACKIE & SON’S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 9



NEW EDITION OF THE UNIVERSE.

The Universe: OrThe Infinitely Great and the Infinitely Little.
A Sketch of Contrasts in Creation, and Marvels revealed and
explained by Natural Science. By F. A. Povcuur, mp. With
272 Engravings on wood, of which 55 are full-page size, and a
Coloured Frontispiece. Tenth Edition, medium 8vo, cloth elegant, .
gilt edges, 7s. 6d.; also morocco antique, 16s.

“We can honestly commend Professor Pouchet’s book, which is admirably, as
it is copiously illustrated.” —The Times.

“Scarcely any book in French or in English is so likely to stimulate in the
young an interest in the physical phenomena.”—Fortnightly Review.





BY ROBERT LEIGHTON.

The Thirsty Sword: A Story of the Norse Invasion of
Scotland (1262-63). By Roserr LeteHton. With 8 page IIlus-
trations by ALFRED Parse, and a Map, Crown 8vo, cloth ele-
gant, olivine edges, 5s. .

In this story of The Thirsty Sword, and the vengeance which it accom-
plishes, there is found much of the simple directness and tragic strength
of the old Scandinavian Sagas. It is laid in that period of Scottish history
which ended with the famous battle of Largs; and it tells how Roderic
MacAlpin; the sea-rover, came to the Isle of Bute; how he slew his brother
Earl Hamish in Rothesay Castle; how Alpin, the earl’s eldest son, challenged
his uncle to ordeal by battle, and was likewise slain; how young Kenrie
now became king of Bute, and vowed vengeance against the slayer of his
brother and father; and finally, it tells how this vow was kept when Kenric
and the murderous sea-rover met at midnight on Garroch Head, and ended
their feud in one last great fight.

The Pilots of Pomona: A Story of the Orkney Islands.
By Rosert Lercutron. With 8 page Tllustrations by Joun LricH-
‘ron, and a Map. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.

“A story which is quite as good in its way as Treasure Island, and is full of
adventure of a stirring yet most natural kind. Although it is primarily a boys’
book, it is a real godsend to the elderly reader who likes something fresh—some-
thing touched with the romance and magic of youth.” —Glasgow Evening Times.

“His pictures of Orcadian life and nature are charming.”—Saturday Review.



Robinson Crusoe. By Danret Duroz. Illustrated by 100
Pictures by Gorpon Brownz. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 6s.

“One of the best issues, if not absolutely the best, of Defoe’s work which has
ever appeared.” —Zhe Standard.



Gulliver’s Travels. Tlustrated by more than 100 Pictures
by Gornon Browne, Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.

“Myr. Gordon Browne is, to my thinking, incomparably the most artistic,
spirited, and brilliant of our illustrators of pooks for boys, and one of the most
humorous also, as his illustrations of ‘Gulliver’ amply testify."—Zruth,
10 BLACKIE & SON’S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.



BY GEORGE MANVILLE FENN.

aps Mr. Fenn stands in the foremost rank of writers in this department. ”_Daitly
ews.

Quicksilver: Or, A Boy with no Skid to his Wheel. By
Guorcre Manvitte Fenn. With 10 page Illustrations by Frank
Dapp. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.

“ Quicksilver is little short of an inspiration. In it that prince of story-writers
for hboys—George Manville Fenn—has surpassed himself. It is an ideal book for
a boy’s library.”— Practical Teacher.

“The story is capitally told, it abounds in graphic and well-described scenes,
and it has an excellent and manly tone throughout."—The Guardian.

Dick o’ the Fens: A Romance of the Great East Swamp. By
G. Manviniz Freyy. With 12 page Illustrations by Frank Dapp.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.

“We conscientiously believe that boys will find it capital reading. It is full
of incident and mystery, and the mystery is kept up to the last moment. It is
rich in effective local colouring; and it has a historical interest.”—Times.

“Deserves to be heartily and unreservedly praised as regards plot, incidents,
and spirit. It is its author’s masterpiece as yet.”—Spectator.

Devon Boys: A Tale of the North Shore. By G. ManviutE
Fenn. With 12 page Illustrations by Gorpon Browns. Crown
8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.

‘An admirable story, as remarkable for the individuality of its young heroes
as for the excellent descriptions of coast scenery and life in North Devon. It is
one of the best books we have seen this season.” —Athenwum.

The Golden Magnet: A Tale of the Land of the Incas. By
G. Manvittz Fenn. Illustrated by 12 page Pictures by Gorpow
Browne. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s,

“There could be no more welcome present for a boy. There is not a dull page
in the book, and many will be read with breathless interest. ‘The Golden M: ag-
net’ is, of course, the same one that attracted Raleigh and the heroes of West-
ward Ho!”—Journal of Education.

In the King’s Name: Or, The Cruise of the Kestrel. By
G. Manvittz Fenn. Illustrated by 12 page Pictures by Gorpon
Browne. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.

“A capital boys’ story, full of incident and adventure, and told in the lively
style in which Mr. Fenn is such an adept.”—Globe,

“The best of all Mr. Fenn’s productions in this field. It has the great quality
of always ‘moving on,’ adventure following adventure in constant succession. ”"—
Daily News.

Bunyip Land: The Story of a Wild Journey in New Guinea.
By G. Mayvitte Fenn. With 12 page Illustrations by Gorpoy

Browne. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.

“ Mr, Fenn deserves the thanks of everybody for Bunyip Land, and we may ven-
ture to promise that a quiet week may be reckoned on whilst the youngsters have
such fascinating literature provided for their evenings’ amusement.”—Spectator.
BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 11



BY GEORGE MANVILLE FENN.

“Wo one can find his way to the hearts of lads more readily than Mr, Fenn.”—
Nottingham Guardian.



Yussuf the Guide: Being the Strange Story of Travels in
Asia Minor. By G. Manvitte Frxy. With 8 page Illustrations
by J. Scuéxsere. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.

“The narrative will take its readers into scenes that will have great novelty
and attraction for them, and the experiences with the brigands will be especially
delightful to boys.”—Scotsman.

Menhardoe: A Story of Cornish Nets and Mines. By G.
Manvittzn Fenn. With 8 page Illustrations by C. J. STANILAND.

Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.

“They are real living boys, with their virtues and fatlts. The Cornish fisher-
men are drawn from life, they are racy of the soil, salt with the sea-water, and

they stand out from the pages in their jerseys and sea-boots all sprinkled with

silvery pilchard scales.”—Spectator.

Nat the Naturalist: A Boy’s Adventures in the Eastern
Seas. By G. Manvitte Fenn. With 8 page Pictures. Crown 8vo,
cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.

“This sort of book encourages independence of character, develops resource,
and teaches a boy to keep his eyes open.” —Saturday Review.
Brownsmith’s Boy: A Romance in a Garden. By G. Man-

vite Fenn. With 6 page Illustrations. New Edition. Crown
8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d.

Mr. Fenn’s books are among the best, if not altogether the best, of the stories
for boys. Mr. Fenn is at his best in Brownsmith’s Boy.”—Pictorial World.



BY DR. GORDON STABLES.

Twixt School and College: A Tale of Self-reliance. By
Gorpon STABLES, 6..., M.D., R.N. With 8 page Illustrations by
W. Parkinson. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.

“One of the best of a prolific writer’s books for boys, being full of practical
instructions as to keeping pets, from white mice upwards, and inculeates in a way
which a little recalls Miss Hdgeworth’s ‘Frank’ the virtue of self-reliance,
though the local colouring of the home of the Aberdeenshire boy is a good deal
more picturesque.”—Atheneum.



The Seven Wise Scholars. By Ascorr R. Hore. With
nearly 100 Illustrations by Gorpon Browne. Cloth elegant, 5s.
“Ag full of fun as a volume of Punch; with jllustrations, more laughter-
provoking than most we have seen since Leech died.”—Sheficld Independent.
Stories of Old Renown: Tales of Knights and Heroes.
By Ascort R. Horu. With 100 Dlustrations by Gorpon Browne.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d.

«A really fascinating book worthy of its telling title. There is, we venture to
say, nota dull page in the book, not a story which will not bear a second read-
ing.”—Guardian.
12 BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.



BY ANNE BEALE.

The Heiress of Courtleroy. By Awye Bratz. With 8
page Illustrations by T. C. H. Castnz. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant,
olivine edges, 5s.

Mimica, the heroine of this story, comes to England as an orphan, and
is coldly received by her uncle, who makes her feel that she is a pensioner
on his bounty. The girl has a brave nature, however, and she deals with
his indifference to herself and his selfish treatment of his tenants at Court-
leroy in a spirit of practical kindness. It is a difficult task which the girl
has set herself, but at last she succeeds in saving the estate from ruin and
reclaiming her uncle from the misanthropical disregard of his duties as a
landlord.



BY ROSA MULHOLLAND.

Giannetta: A Girl’s Story of Herself. By Rosa MutHouiann.
With 8 page Illustrations by LockHart Bociz. Crown 8vo, cloth
elegant, olivine edges, 5s.

“Giannetta is a true heroine—warm-hearted, self-sacrificing, and, as all good
women nowadays are, largely touched with the enthusiasm of humanity. One
of the most attractive gift-books of the season.”—The Academy.





BY HARRY COLLINGWOOD.





The Pirate Island: A Story of the South Pacific. By
Harry CoLLinewoop. With 8 page Pictures by C. J. Sranrianp
and J. R. Weis. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.

“A capital story of the sea; indeed in our opinion the author is superior in some
respects as a marine novelist to the better known Mr. Clark Russell.’—The Times,

The Log of the ‘Flying Fish:” A Story of Aerial and
Submarine Peril and Adventure. By Harry Cotrmnawoop, With
12 page Illustrations by Gorpon Browne. Crown 8vo, cloth
elegant, olivine edges, 6s.

“The Flying Fish actually surpasses all Jules Verne’s creations; with incred-
ible speed she flies through the air, skims over the surface of the water, and darts
along the ocean hed. We strongly recommend our school-loy friends to possess
themselves of her log.”—Athenwwm.

The Congo Rovers: A Story of the Slave Squadron. By
Harry Cottinewoop. With 8 page Illustrations by J. Scuinzerc.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.

“No better sea story has lately been written than the Congo Rovers. It is as
original as any boy could desire.”—Jforning Post.
BLACKIE & SON’S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 13



BY G. NORWAY.



Hussein the Hostage: Or, A Boy’s Adventures in Persia.
By G. Norway. With 8 page Illustrations by JoHn ScHONBERG,
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.

“ Hussein the Hostage is full of originality and vigour. The characters are life-
like, there is plenty of stirring incident, the interest is sustained throughout, and
every boy will enjoy following the fortunes of the hero.”—Journal of Education.

The Loss of John Humble: What Led to It, and what
Came of It. By G. Norway. With 8 page Illustrations by Jonn

Scuénperc. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.

“This story will place the author at once in the front rank. It is full of life
and adventure. He is equally at home in his descriptions of life in Sweden and
in the more stirring passages of wreck and disaster, and the interest of the story
js sustained without a break from first to last.”—Standard.



BY F. FRANKFORT MOORE.

Highways and High Seas: Cyril Harley’s Adventures on
both. By F. Franxrort Moors. With 8 page Illustrations by
Aurrep Prarsz. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.

“This is one of the best stories Mr. Moore has written, perhaps the very best.

The exciting adventures among highwaymen. and privateers are sure to attract

boys.” —Spectator.

Under Hatches: Or, Ned Woodthorpe’s Adventures. By rr.
Frankvort Moors. With 8 page Illustrations by A. Formsrier.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.

“The story as a story is one that will just suit boys all the world over. The
characters are well drawn and consistent; Patsy, the Irish steward, will be found
especially amusing.” —Schoolmaster.



BY ALICE CORKRAN.

Meeg’s Friend. By Aicz Corxran. With 6 page Ilustra-
tions by Ropert Fowirrr. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.

“One of Miss Corkran’s charming books for girls, narrated in that simple
and picturesque style which marks the authoress as one of the first amongst
writers for young people.”—The Spectator.

Margery Merton’s Girlhood. By Avice Corxray. With
6 page Pictures by Gorpon Browne. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.

“Another book for girls we can warmly commend. ‘There is a delightful
piquancy in the experiences and trials of a young English girl who studies
painting in Paris.”—Saturday Review.

Down the Snow Stairs: Or, From Good-night to Good-
morning. By Arion Corxran. With 60 Tllustrations by Gorpon
Browys. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 3s. 6d.

“A fascinating wonder-book for children.” —A theneum. . a.
“A gem of the first water, bearing upon every page the mark of genius. It is
indeed a Little Pilgrim’s Progress.”—Christian Leader.
14 BLACKIE & SON’S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.



BY ANNIE E. ARMSTRONG.



A Very Odd Girl: or, Life at the Gabled Farm. By Ante
E. Armstrong. With 6 page Illustrations by 8. T. Dapp. Crown
8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d.

The heroine of this story is of French and English parentage, and this
fact accounts to a great extent for her odd characteristics. Vera is a
bright, clever, lovable girl, however, and her experiences in an English
farmhouse are exceedingly interesting. No doubt she gets both herself
and her cousins into trouble, but in the end all the misunderstandings are
explained, and the character of this odd girl is deepened and chastened.

Three Bright Girls: A Story of Chance and Mischance,
By Anniz E, Armstrone. With 6 page Illustrations by W. Par-
KINSON. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d.

‘Among many good stories for girls this is undoubtedly one of the very best.
The three girls whose portraits are so admirably painted are girls of earnest,
practical, and business-like mood. Ever bright and cheerful, they influence other
lives, and at last they come out of their trials and difficulties with honour to
themselves and benefits to all about them.’—Teachers’ Aid.



BY EDGAR PICKERING.

An Old-Time Yarn: Wherein is set forth divers desperate
mischances which befell Anthony Ingram and his shipmates in the
West Indies and Mexico with Hawkins and’Drake. By Epear
Picxrrine. Illustrated with 6 page Pictures drawn by ALFRED
Prarse. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d.

The hero of this yarn sails from Plymouth for the Spanish Main in the
flag-ship of Master John Hawkins. Divers are the perils by sea and land
through which he passes. Chief of these are the destruction of the English
ships by the treacherous Spaniards, the fight round the burning vessels,
the journey of the prisoners to the city of Mexico, the horrors of the
Inquisition, the sentence to death by fire, and the final escape to the coast
and home to England.

Silas Verney: A Tale of the Time of Charles II. By Enear
Pickxzrine. With 6 page Illustrations by ALrRED Prarsn. Crown
8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d.

“Wonderful as the adventures of Silas are, it must be admitted that they are
very naturally worked out and very plausibly presented. Altogether this is an
excellent story for boys.”—Saturday Review.

Brother and Sister: Or, The Trials of the Moore Family.
By Exwasrrn J. Lysacut. With 6 page Illustrations. Crown
8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d.

“A pretty story, and well told. The plot is cleverly constructed, and the mora]
is excellent,” —Athencum,
BLACKIE & SONS BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 15



The Captured Cruiser: or, Two Years from Land. By
C.J. Hynz, With 6 page Illustrations by F. Branewrn. Crown
8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d.

The central incidents in this realistic story of modern naval warfare deal
with the capture, during the war between Chili and Peru, of an armed
cruiser. The heroes and their companions break from prison in the harbour
of Valparaiso, board this war-ship in the night, overpower the watch, escape
to sea under the fire of the forts, fight two torpedo boats, and finally, after
marvellous adventures, lose the cruiser among the icebergs near Cape
Horn.



Afloat at Last: A Sailor Boy’s Log of his Life at Sea. By
Joun C. Hurcuzson. With 6 page Illustrations by W. H.
OvEREND. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d.

“Ag healthy and breezy a book as one could wish to put into the hands of

a boy.”—Academy.

«tale of seafaring life told with fire and enthusiasm, full of spirited incident
and well-drawn character.”—Observer.

Picked up at Sea: Or, The Gold Miners of Minturne Creek.
By J. C. Hurcnzson. With 6 page Pictures. Cloth extra, 3s. 6d.

“ Phe author's success with this book is so marked that it may well encourage him
to further efforts. The description of mining life in the Far West is true and accu-
rate.”—Standard.

Sir Walter’s Ward: A Tale of the Crusades. By Witn1am
EvERARD. With 6 page Illustrations by WaLrer Pacer. Crown
8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.

“his book will prove a very acceptable present either to boys or girls. Both
alike will take an interest in the career of Dodo, in spite of his unheroic name,
and follow him through his numerous and exciting adventures.” — Academy.





The Search for the Talisman: A Story of Labrador.
By Henry Frira. With 6 page Illustrations by J. ScHONBERG.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d.

“My. Frith’s volume will be among those most read and highest valued. The
adventures among seals, whales, and icebergs in Labrador will delight many a
young reader.”—Pall Mall Gazette.



Reefer and Rifleman: A Tale of the Two Services. By
J. Purcy-Groves, late 27th Inniskillings. With 6 page Ilustra-
tions by Joun ScuinBERc. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d.

“ & good, old-fashioned, amphibious story of our fighting with the Frenchmen in
the beginning of our century, with a fair sprinkling of fun and frolic.”—Témes.





Self-Exiled: A Story of the High Seas and East Africa. By
J. A. Srevarr. With 6 page Illustrations by Joun ScHéNnBERG.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 8s. 6d.

“Tt ig eram full of thrilling situations. The number of miraculous escapes
from death in all its shapes which the hero experiences in the course of a few
months must be sufficient to satisfy the most voracious appetite,”—Schoolmaster.
16 BLACKIE & SON’S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.



BY CAROLINE AUSTIN.



Cousin Geoffrey and I. By Carotine Austin. With 6
page Illustrations by W. Parkinson. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.

‘Miss Austin’s story is bright, clever, and well developed.” Saturday Review.
“A powerfully written and realistic story of girllife.. . . The tone of the
book is pure and good.”—Practical Teacher.

Hugh Herbert’s Inheritance. By Carourme Austin.
With 6 page Illustrations by C. T. Garnanp. Crown 8vo, cloth
elegant, 3s. 6d.

“Will please by its simplicity, its tenderness, and its healthy interesting
motive. It is admirably written.”—Scotsman,



Storied Holidays: A Cycle of Red-letter Days. By E. 8.
Brooxs. With 12 page Illustrations by Howarp Pyne. Crown
8vo, cloth elegant, 3s, 6d.

“Tt is a downright good book for a senior boy, and is eminently readable from
first to last.”—Schoolmaster.

Chivalric Days: Stories of Courtesy and Courage in the
Olden Times. By E. 8 Brooks. With 20 Illustrations by
Gorpon Browne and other Artists. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.

““We have seldom come across a prettier collection of tales. These charming
stories of boys and girls of olden days are no mere fictitious or imaginary sketches,
but are real and actual records of their sayings and doings. "—Iiterary World.

Historie Boys: Their Endeavours, their Achievements, and
their Times. By E. 8. Brooks. With 12 page Illustrations by
R. B. Brrow and Joun Scuénpere. Crown 8vo, cloth extya, 33. 6d.

“A wholesome book, manly in tone, its character sketches enlivened by brisk
dialogue and high-class illustrations; altogether one that should incite boys to
further acquaintance with those rulers of men whose careers are narrated. We
advise teachers to put it on their list of prizes. ”—Knowledge.



Dr. Jolliffe’s Boys: A Tale of Weston School. By Lzwts
HovueH. With 6 page Pictures. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.

“Young people who appreciate Tom Brown’s School-days will find this story a
worthy companion to that fascinating book. There is the same manliness of tone,
truthfulness of outline, avoidance of exaggeration and caricature, and healthy
morality as characterized the masterpiece of Mr. Hughes.”—Neweastle Journal.

The Bubbling Teapot. A Wonder Story. By Mrs. L. W.
Cuampnry. With 12 page Pictures by Watrer Sarrerime.
Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.

“Very literally a ‘wonder story,’ and a wild and fanciful one. Nevertheless
it is made realistic enough, and there is a good deal of information to be gained
from it. ‘The steam from the magic teapot bubbles up into a girl, and the little
girl, when the fancy takes her, can cry herself back into a teapot. Transformed
and enchanted she makes the tour of the globe."—The Times.
BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 17



Laugh and Learn: The Easiest Book of Nursery Lessons
and Nursery Games. By Jennutrt Humeureys. Profusely Ius-
trated. Square 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.

“Laugh and Learn instructs and amuses; it is the very book for a wet day
in the nursery, for besides solid instruction, admirably given, it contains number-
less games and contrivances, with useful and amusing illustrations. The musical
drill is remarkably good.”-—Atheneum.

“One of the best books of the kind imaginable, full of practical teaching in
word and picture, and helping the little ones pleasantly-along a right royal road
to learning.” —Graphie.

“very mother of children should have Laugh and Learn, and go through
with them the excellent course it contains.”—Journal of Education.



BY MARY C. ROWSELL.

Thorndyke Manor: A Tale of Jacobite Times. By Mary
C. Rowsett. With 6 page Illustrations by L. Lestiz Brooxg.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d.

“Tt is a good story, with plenty of ‘go’ in it.’—Times.
“Miss Rowsell has never written a more attractive book than Thorndyke
Manor.”—Belfast News-Letter.

Traitor or Patriot? A Tale of the Rye-House Plot. By
Many C. Rowsett. With 6 page Pictures by C. O. Murray and
GC. J. STANILAND, R.I. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d.

“Here the Rye-House Plot serves as the groundwork for a romantic love epi-
sode, whose true characters are lifelike beings, not dry sticks as in many histori-
cal tales.” —Graphie.



Silver Mill: A Tale of the Don Valley. By Mrs. R. H. Reap.
With 6 page Illustrations by Joun Scuénpere. Crown 8vo, cloth
elegant, 3s. 6d.

“A good girl’s story-book. ‘The plot is interesting, and the heroine, Ruth, a
lady by birth, though brought up in a humble station, well deserves the more
elevated position in which the end of the book leaves her.”—Saturday Review.

Dora: Or, A Girl withouta Home. By Mrs. R. H. Reap. With
6 page Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d.

“It is no slight thing, in an age of rubbish, to get a story so pure and healthy
as this.’—The Academy.

Life’s Daily Ministry: A Story of Everyday Service for
Others. By Mrs. E. R. Prraan. With 4 page Illustrations. Crown
8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.

“Shows exquisite touches of 2 master hand. She depicts in graphic outline
the characteristics of the beautiful and the good in life.”—Christian Union.
My Governess Life: Or, Earning my Living. By Mrs. E.

R. Prrman. With 4 page Illustrations. Cloth extra, 3s. 6d.

‘Full of sound teaching and bright examples of character.”—S.S. Chronicle.
B
18 BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. ~



BLACKIE’S NEW THREE-SHILLING SERIES.
Beautifully Illustrated and Handsomely Bound.

Patience Wins: or, War in the Works. By Grorcz Man-
VILLE Fenn. With 6 page Illustrations. New Edition. Crown
8vo, cloth extra, 3s.

“Mr. Fenn has never hit upon a happier plan than in writing this story of
Yorkshire factory life. The whole book is all aglow with life, the scenes varying
continually with kaleidoscopic rapidity.”—Pall Mall Gazette.

Mother Carey’s Chicken: Her Voyage to the Unknown
Isle. By G. Manvitte Fenn. With 6 page Dlustrations by A.
Forestizr. New Edition. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s.

‘Undoubtedly one of the best Mr. Fenn has written. The incidents are of
thrilling interest, while the characters are drawn with a care and completeness
rarely found in a boys’ book, The illustrations are exceptionally good.”—Liter-
ary World.

The Missing Merchantman. By Harry Cotimewoop.
With 6 page Illustrations by W. H. Overzenp. New Edition.
Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s.

‘*One of the author’s best sea stories. The hero is as heroic as any boy could
desire, and the ending is extremely happy.”— British Weekly.

The Rover’s Secret: A Tale of the Pirate Cays and Lagoons
of Cuba. By Harry Continewoop. With 6 page Illustrations by
W.C. Sysions. New Edition. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s.

“ The Rover's Secret is by far the best sea story we have read for years, and is
certain to give unalloyed pleasure to boys. The illustrations are fresh and
vigorous.”’—Saturday Review.

The Wigwam and the War-path: Stories of the Red
Indians. By Ascorr R, Horz. With 6 page Illustrations. New

Edition. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s.

“Ts notably good. It gives a very vivid picture of life among the Indians,
which will delight the heart of many a schoolboy.”—Spectator,

Perseverance Island: or, The Robinson Crusoe of the 19th
Century. By Douctas Frazar. With 6 page Illustrations. New
Edition. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s.

“This is an interesting story, written with studied simplicity of style, much in
Defoe’s vein of apparent sincerity and scrupulous veracity; while for practical
instruction it is even better than Robinson Crusee.’—Illustrated London News.

Girl Neighbours: or, The Old Fashion and the New. By
Sara Tyrer. With 6 page Illustrations by C. T. Garvanp.

New Edition. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s.

“One of the most effective and quictly humorous of Miss Sarah Tytler’s stories.
Girl Neighbours is very healthy, very agreeable, and very well written,”—The
Spectator.
BLACKIE & SON’S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 19,



BLACKIE’S HALF-CROWN SERIES.

Tilustrated by eminent Artists. In crown 8vo, cloth elegant.



A Rough Road: or, How the Boy Made a Man of Himself.
By Mrs. G. Linnaus Bans. Lllustrated by ALrrep Prarse.

Robert Wallis suffered from the old, mistaken belief that by hard flog-
ging a boy could be made a scholar. His father, who was a schoolmaster,
carried this severe form of discipline to such lengths that the lad ran
away, and maintained himself by selling needles from place to place. It
was a rough road he had chosen, but he ultimately succeeded in making a
man of himself by honesty, industry, and perseverance.

The Two Dorothys: A Tale for Girls. By Mrs. Herperr
Martin. Illustrated by Gorpon Browne.

In this story the shy, dreamy, unselfish Dorothy Heriot comes to live
with her great-aunt, the other Dorothy, at Hampstead. This old lady
ig kind enough in her own way, but her discipline is unsympathetic, and
she has fits of harsh temper in which she is unjust to the sensitive girl.
But the younger Dorothy’s loving, unselfish nature wins upon the proud
old lady, and the end is happiness and mutual helpfulness.

Penelope and the Others: A Story of Five Country
Children. By Amy Watron. Illustrated by L. Lastm Brooks.

A pleasant narrative of the sayings, doings, and adventures of five coun-
try children. It tells how the boys found buried gold in the old Roman
camp, and how the girls discovered hid treasure in the person of little
“Kettles.” It is a charming record of the everyday affairs of lovable,
interesting, and well-mannered children.

A Cruise in Cloudland. By Heyry Fairs. Illustrated
by W. 8. Stacey.

The hero of this story is carried out to sea in a balloon, and after a time
of strange experience and terrible anxiety he comes to earth again on an
island in the Atlantic. Here the unfortunate lad lives with the inhabitants
until he is rescued by an English yacht, the owner of which sails for Con-
stantinople. Tho lad then accompanies his benefactor to Bulgaria, and
takes an exciting part in tho famous siego of Plevna.

Marian and Dorothy: or, The Abbey Grange. By Annrz
E. Armsrronc. Dlustrated by L. Lest Brooke.
“This is distinctively a book for girls. It contains a bright wholesome story,

with the useful morals of industry and forgiveness of injuries. The book is
decidedly to be commended.”—Academy.
20 BLACKIE & SON’S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.



HALF-GCROWN SERIES—Continued.

Stimson’s Reef: A Tale of Adventure. By CG. J. Hynes.
Illustrated by W. S. Stacny.

“Few stories come within hailing distance of Stimson’s Reef in the matter of
startling incidents and hairbreadth ‘scapes. In these respects it may almost vie
with Mr. R. L, Stevenson’s matchless Treasure Island.’—Guardian.

Gladys Anstruther: or, The Young Stepmother. By Lovisa
Tuomrson, Illustrated by F. H. Townsenp.

“Tt is a clever book, and some of the passages in the narrative are novel and
striking in the highest degree.”—Schoolmistress.

The Secret of the Old House. By Evenyy Evererr-
GREEN.

“Tim, the little Jacobite who asks his grandmother if she can remember
Charles I., is a charming creation. So original a child as Tim must win the
hearts of all who read the pleasant tale. "— Academy.

Hal Hungerford. By J. R. Hurcutsoy, 3.a.

“There is no question whatever as to the spirited manner in which the story is
told; the death of the mate of the smuggler by the teeth of the dog is especially
effective. Altogether, Hal Hungerford is a distinct literary success. "—_Speetator.

The Golden Weathercock. By Jut1a Gopparp.

“A cleverly conceived quaint story, in which the golden cock on the church
spire is the recipient of enchanting stories of enchanted people and places. Full of
pretty and ingenious ideas, prettily and ingeniously written.”—Saturday Review,

White Lilac: Or, The Queen of the May. By Amy Watton,
«Every here and there we are reminded of Mrs. Tulliver and Sister Pullet in
the quaint dialogue of the story. . . . Every rural parish ought to add White
Lilae to its library.”—Academy.
Miriam’s Ambition. By Everyy Evererr-Gruen.
“Miss Green’s children are real British boys and girls, not small men and
women. Babs is a charming little one.”—Liverpool Mercury.

The Brig ‘‘Audacious.” By Atay Coun.

“Bright and vivacious in style, and fresh and wholesome as a breath of sea air
in tone.”—Court Journal.

The Saucy May. By Henry Farrn.

“ Mr. Frith gives a new picture of life on the ocean wave which will be acceptable
to all young people.”—Shefield Independent.

Jasper’s Conquest. By Exizareru J. Lysacur.

“One of the best boys’ books of the season. It is full of stirring adventure and
startling episodes, and yet conveys a splendid moral throughout.”—Schoolmaster.
BLACKIE & SONS BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 21





HALF-CROWN SERIES—Continued.



Little Lady Clare. By Evetyy Everurt-Green.

“Certainly one of the prettiest, reminding us in its quaintness and tender
pathos of Mrs. Ewing’s delightful tales. This is quite one of the best stories Miss
Green’s clever pen has yet given us.”—Literary World.

The Eversley Secrets. By Evenyn Evrrert-GReen.

“ A clever and well-told story. Roy Eversley is a very touching picture of high
principle and unshrinking self-devotion in a good purpose.” — Guardian.

The Hermit Hunter of the Wilds. By G. Stazuus, R.v.

“Pirates and pumas, mutiny and merriment, a castaway and a cat, furnish
the materials for a tale that will gladden the heart of many a bright boy.”—
Methodist Recorder.

Sturdy and Strong. By G. A. Heyry.

“The history of a hero of everyday life, whose love of truth, clothing of
modesty, and innate pluck carry him, naturally, from poverty to affluence. He
stands as a good instance of chivalry in domestic life.’—The Empire.

Gutta-Percha Willie, The Working Genius. By Gurorcs
Mac Donan.

“Had we space we would fain quote page after page. All we have room to say
is, get it for your boys and girls to read for themselves.”—Practical Teacher.
The War of the Axe: Or, Adventures in South Africa. By

J. Prrcy-GRoves. ;
“The story of their final escape from the Caffres is a marvellous bit of writing.
The story is well and brilliantly told.”—Literary World.

The Lads of Little Clayton. By R. Srmap.

“A capital book for boys. They will learn from its pages what true boy cour-
age is, They will learn further to avoid all that is petty and mean if they read
the tales aright. They may be read to a class with great profit.”—Schoolmaster. _
Ten Boys who lived on the Road from Long Ago to Now.

By Janz Anprews. With 20 Illustrations.

“The idea of this book is a very happy one, and is admirably carried out. We
have followed the whole.course of the work with exquisite pleasure. ‘Teachers
should find it particularly interesting and suggestive.”—Practical Teacher.

A Waif of the Sea: Or, The Lost Found. By Karz Woop.

“Written with tenderness and grace, the story will appeal to mothers who
have felt the pain of being parted from their children, as powerfully as to the
hearts and sympathies of younger readers." —M. orning Advertiser.

Winnie’s Secret: A Story of Faith and Patience. By Kate
Woop.

“One of the best story-books we have read. Girls will be charmed with the
tale, and delighted that everything turns out so well.”—Schoolnaster.
22 BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.



HALF-CROWN SERIES—Continued.



Miss Willowburn’s Offer. By Saran Doupney.

“Patience Willowburn is one of Miss Doudney’s best creations, and is the one
personality in the story which can be said to give it the character of a book not
for young ladies but for girls.”—Sypectator.

A Garland for Girls. By Lovrsa M. Axcorr.

“The Garland will delight our girls, and show them how to make their lives
fragrant with good deeds.”—British Weekly.

“These little tales are the beau ideal of girls’ stories.”Christian World.

Hetty Gray: Or, Nobody’s Bairn. By Rosa Munonzanp.

“A charming story for young folks. Hetty is a delightful creature—piquant,
tender, and true—and her varying fortunes are perfectly realistic.”— World,

Brothers in Arms: A Story of the Crusades. By F. Bay-
FORD HARRISON.

“Full of striking incident, is very fairly illustrated, and may safely be chosen as
sure to prove interesting to young people of both sexes.” —Guardian,

The Ball of Fortune: Or, Ned Somerset’s Inheritance. By
CHARLES PEARCE.

‘A capital story for boys, It is simply and brightly written. There is plenty
of incident, and the interest is sustained throughout.”—Journal of Education.

Miss Fen W ick’s Failures : Or, “Pegs y Pepper-Pot.” By
a oS PE
Esmi Stuart.

“‘Esmé Stuart may be commended for producing a girl true to real life, who
will put no nonsense into young heads.” —Graphie.

Gytha’s Message: A Tale of Saxon England. By Emma
Lusiiz.

“This is a charmingly told story. It is the sort of book that all girls and some
boys like, and can only get good from.”—Journal of Education.

Jack o’ Lanthorn: A Tale of Adventure. By Hunry Frirn.

‘The narrative is crushed full of stirring incident, and is sure to be a prime
favourite with our boys, who will be assisted by it in mastering a sufficiently
exciting chapter in the history of England.”—Christian Leader.

The Family Failing. By Dartuy Dats.

‘At once an amusing and an interesting story, and a capital lesson on the
value of contentedness to young and old alike.”— Aberdeen Journal,

My Mistress the Queen: A Tale of the 17th Century. By
M. A. Pauw.

“The style is pure and graceful, the presentation of manners and character
has been well studied, and the story is full of interest.”--Scotsman.
BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 23



HALF-CROWN SERIES—Continued.



The Stories of Wasa and Menzikoff: The Deliverer of
Sweden, and the Favourite of Czar Peter.

“Both are stories worth telling more than once, and it is a happy thought to
have put them side by side.”— Spectator.

Stories of the Sea in Former Days.

“Next to an original sea-tale of sustained interest come well-sketched collec-
tions of maritime peril and suffering which awaken the sympathies by the realism
of fact. Stories of the Sew are a very good specimen of the kind.”—The Times.

Tales of Captivity and Exile.

“Jt would be difficult to place in the hands of young people a book which

combines interest and instruction in a higher degree.” —Manchester Courier.

Famous Discoveries by Sea and Land.

“Such a volume may providentially stir up some youths by the divine fire
kindled by these ‘great of old’ to lay open other Jands.”—Perth Advertiser.

Stirring Events of History.

“The yolume will fairly hold its place among those which make the smaller
ways of history pleasant and attractive.’—Guardian.
Adventures in Field, Flood, and Forest.

“The editor has beyond all question succeeded admirably. The present book
cannot fail to be read with interest and advantage.”—Academy.



BLACKIE’S TWO-SHILLING SERIES.

Illustrated by eminent Artists. In crown 8vo, cloth elegant.

An Unexpected Hero. By Exiz. J. Lysacur. Ilustra-
tions by 8. T. Dapp.

There is a boy in this story who has been sent from home in disgrace
because of his troublesome practical jokes. He is a good-hearted lad,
however, and unexpectedly proves himself a hero by rescuing his sister
from a burning house. The girl who tells the story is herself a most in-
teresting character.

The Bushranger’s Secret. By Mrs. Hryry Crarxe, M.A.
Illustrated by W. S. Sracry.

Thi this story of Australian life the hero is tempted to appropriate the
hidden booty of a bushranger, who has died and left the youth with the
secret of its whereabouts. In searching for this buried gold retribution
overtakes him, and after terrible misadventures in the bush he restores the
booty to its rightful owners.
24 BLACKIE & SON’S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.

TWO-SHILLING SERIES—Continued.



The White Squall: a Story of the Sargasso Sea. By Jonw
C. Hurcuuson. With 3 page Illustrations. Mew Edition.

“This is a capital story. The descriptions of scenery and places, and especially
of the changes of calm and tempest, are lifelike and vivid. Boys will find it
difficult to lay down the book till they have got to the end.”—Standard.

The Wreck of the ‘‘Nancy Bell:” or, Cast Away on
Kerguelen Land. By Joun C. Hurcurson. With 3 page Illus-
trations. New Edition.

“Well deserves popularity, for while the narrative is full of excitement and in-
terest, it cannot fail to Stimulate a love of enterprise and adventure, develop
resource, and encourage independence and manliness of character.”—Academy.

The Joyous Story of Toto. By Lavra E. Rronarps,
With 30 Humorous Illustrations by E, H. Garrerr.

‘A very delightful book for children, which deserves to find a place in every
nursery.” —Lady’s Pictorial.

“It should take its place beside Lewis Carroll’s unique works, and find a special
place in the affections of boys and girls,” — Birmingham Gazette,

The Lonely Pyramid. By J. H. Yoxatu.

“There is only the record of one week's wanderings ; but it is an exceedingly full
week—full of wild surprises and marvels. The Pyramid alone is a fascinating
invention, and the ‘lost oasis of the vision on the sand’ is even more delightful.”
—Saturday Review,

Bab: or, The Triumph of Unselfishness. By Ismay Tuorn.

“Bab is a capital story for children, who will be much aniused by the picture
on the cover of the worthy doll Jocasta.”"—A theneum.

Climbing the Hill, and other Stories. By Anwie §, Sway.

“Miss Annie Swan’s children are children, and not old people masquerading in
children’s attire. This volume of tales is made up of just the kind of incidents
of which children love to read.”—Christian Leader.

Brave and True, and other Stories, By Grreson Gow.

‘This is one of those very few volumes which are adapted for reading aloud to
children in the nursery.”—Sypectator.

The Light Princess. By Groraz Mac Donatp.

Graceful, fantastic, delicately didactic in its playfulness, this volume is likely
to give as much pleasure to the elder folk as to the younger.”—Daily News.

Nutbrown Roger and I. By J. H. Yoxazn.

“The pictures of manners is perfect, the excitement, of the healthiest kind,
goes on increasing to the last. It is one of the very best and most delightful
story-books of the season.’—T'ablet.

Warner’s Chase: Or, The Gentle Heart. By Annie 8. Swan.

“Tn Milly Warren, the heroine, who softens the hard heart of her rich uncle,
and thus unwittingly restores the family fortunes, we have a fine ideal of real
womanly goodness.” —Schoolmaster.
BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 25



TWO-SHILLING SERIES—Continued.

Sam Silvan’s Sacrifice. By Jussz Conmay.

“There is a spirit of gentleness, kindliness, and tenderness manifest in every
page of this volume, which will make it an influence for good,” —Christian Union.

Insect Ways on Summer Days in Garden, Forest, Field,

and Stream. By Jennerr Humpureys. With 70 Illustrations.
“This book will prove not only instructive but delightful to every child whose
mind is beginning to inquire and reflect upon the wonders of nature. It is
capitally illustrated and very tastefully bound.”—Academy.
Susan. By Auy Watton.

“ A clever little story, written with some humour. The authoress shows a
great deal of insight into children’s feelings and motives.”"—Pall Mall Gazette.

A Pair of Clogs. By Amy Watton.

“Decidedly interesting, and unusually true to nature. For children between
nine and fourteen this book can be thoroughly commended.”—Academy.

The Hawthorns. By Amy Watton.

“A remarkably vivid and clever study of child-life. At this species of work
Amy Walton has no superior.”—Christian Leader.

Dorothy’s Dilemma. By Carozinz Avstry.

“An exceptionally well-told story, and will be warmly welcomed by children.
The little heroine, Dorothy, is a charming creation.”— Court Journal.
Marie’s Home. By Carotmne Austin.

“An exquisitely told story. The heroine is as fine a type of girlhood as one
could wish to set before our little British damsels of to-day.” —Christian Leader.
A Warrior King. By J. Everry.

«The friendship formed between the African Prince and Adrian Englefield will
remind the reader of the old story of the ‘ wonderful love’ which existed long ago
when Jonathan and David made a covenant.”—Dundee Advertiser.

Aboard the ‘‘ Atalanta.” By Heyry Frits.

“The story is very interesting and the descriptions most graphic. We doubt
if any boy after reading it would be tempted to the great mistake of running
away from school under almost any pretext whatever.”—Practical Teacher.

The Penang Pirate. By Joun C. Hurcuzson.

«A book which boys will thoroughly enjoy: rattling, adventurous, and romantic,
and the stories are thoroughly healthy in tone.”— Teddy: The Story of a “Little Pickle.” By Joun C, Hurcurson.

«Te is an amusing little fellow with a rich fund of animal spirits, and when at
length he goes to sea with Uncle Jack he speedily sobers down under the discip-
line of life.”—Saturday Review.

A Rash Promise. By Cxecrr1a Setpy Lownpzs.

“ A carefully told story; and Meg Clifford isa delightful and natural little girl.”
—Spectator.
26 BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE



TWO-SHILLING SERIES—Continued.



Linda and the Boys. By Crcit1a Szxpy Lownpzs.

The book is essentially a child’s book, and will be heartily appreciated by the
young folk.”—The Academ y.

Swiss Stories for Children. From the German of Mapam
Jouanwa Spyrr. By Lucy Wuuzntocx.

“Charming stories. They are rich in local colouring, and, what is better, in
genuine pathos."—The Times.

The Squire’s Grandson: A Devonshire Story. By J. M.
CALLWELL,

“The lessons of courage, filial affection, and devotion to duty on the part of the
young hero cannot fail to favourably impress all young readers.” —Schoolmaster,

Magna Charta Stories. Edited by ARnruur GILMAN, a.m.

y

“A book of special excellence, which ought to be in the hands of all boys.”—
Educational News.

The Wings of Courage; ayp Tux Croup -Sprnwer.
Translated from the French of Groner Sawp, by Mrs. Corxran.

“Mrs, Corkran has earned our gratitude by translating into readable English these
two charming little stories.” Atheneum.

Chirp and Chatter: Or, Lussons From Fietp ann Tren,
By Avice Banxs. With 54 Illustrations by Gorpow Browns.

“We see the humbling influence of love on the haughty harvest-mouse, we are
touched by the sensibility of the tender-hearted ant, and may profit by the moral

of ‘the disobedient maggot.’ The drawings are spirited and funny.”—The Times,

Four Little Mischiefs. By Rosa MutHonuanp.

“Graphically written, and abounds in touches of genuine humour and innocent
fun.”—Freeman. “A charming bright story about real children.”— Watchman.

New Light through Old Windows. By Grueson Gow.

“The most delightfully-written little stories one can easily find in the literature
of the season, Well constructed and brightly told.”—Glasgow Herald,

Little Tottie, and Two Other Stories, By Tuomas Arcumr.

“We can warmly commend all three stories; the book is a most alluring prize
for the younger ones.” —Schoolmaster,

Naughty Miss Bunny. By Cuara Mutnonzanp.

“This naughty child is positively delightful. Papas should not omit Naughty
Afiss Bunny from their list of juvenile presents.”—Land and Water,

Adventures of Mrs. Wishing-to-be. By Axice Corxran,

“Simply a charming book for little girls.”—Saturday Review.
“Just in the style and spirit to win the hearts of children.” — Daily, News.
BLACKIE & SONS BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 27



Our Dolly: Her Words and Ways. By Mrs.R.H. Reap. 2s.
“ Prettily told and prettily illustrated.” Guardian,

Fairy Fancy: What she Heard and Saw. By Mrs. Ruan. 2s.

“ All is pleasant, nice reading, with a little knowledge of natural history and
other matters gently introduced.”—Practical Teacher.



BLACKIE’S EIGHTEENPENNY SERIES.

With Illustrations. In crown 8vo, cloth elegant.

Phil and his Father. By Ismay Tuorn.

The father of Phil is a widower, who proposes to marry a second time.
The boy, however, resents this arrangement at first, but by the kindness
and forbearance of his proposed stepmother all his ill-natured displeasure
is dispelled, and the former comfortless home is rade happy.

Prim’s Story. By L. E. Trpprman,
In her story Miss Prim tells what a foolish little girl she used to be.
Her chief fault was to insist on always having her own way, and this caused

trouble with her playmates and unhappiness to herself. In the end she
was cured of this fault by a sad accident which befell her little brother.

Littlebourne Lock. By F. Bayrorp Harrison.

“J would like you all, big and little, to read the story of Juliet, the London
waif, out of whose life poverty and want had pinched all sweetness and bright-
ness, who was taken to a little lock-house by the side of our beautiful river, the
Thames, and turned out to be a regular ‘brick of a girl.’”—Pall Mall Budget.

Wild Meg and Wee Dickie. By Mary E. Rorss.

“ A study of life in the slums, vivid, powerful, and unutterably sad, yet not
without hope. Meg’s keen sense of humour helps her greatly, and her indomit-
able spirit enables her to raise herself and the little lad she has saved out of the
depths into pleasant and honourable ways.” —Atheneun.

Grannie. A Story by Exizaprra J. Lysacur.

“The tale is prettily told, and the contrast drawn between the two girls who
are thrown together is very effective. The story, pathetic though it be, is true to
life."—_ Nottingham Guardian.

The Seed She Sowed: A Tale of the Great Dock Strike. By
Emma Lrsie.

“A very true picture of the life and pain and pathos of outcast London,”—Pall
Mall Gazette.

Unlucky: A Fragment of a Girl’s Life. By Canorinz Austin.

“Phe heroine is a finely-drawn character. ‘Through much domestic difficulty
at the hands of a stepmother, she holds on in the right path, and exhibits a self-
sacrificing nature that all would do well to copy.”—Teachers’ Aid.

Everybody’s Business. By Ismay Torn.

“One of Ismay Thorn’s delightful children’s books, The story is simply and
cleverly written, and doubly attractive by ending so happily.”—Saturday Review.
28 BLACKIE & SON’S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PHOPLE.





BLACKIE’S EIGHTEENPENNY SERIES—Continued.



Tales of Daring and Danger. By G. A. Henry,

“‘Mr. Henty’s heroes are brave and upright, quick and keen, and their doings
make capital reading for boys.”— Atheneum.

“ White-Faced Dick’ is a sketch worthy of Bret Harte at his best. Just the
sort of tales to read aloud by the fireside on a winter's night.” —Pract. Teacher.
Yarns on the Beach. By G. A. Henry.

“Should find special favour among boys. The yarns are full of romance and
adventure, and are admirably calculated to foster a manly spirit.”—The Echo.

The Seven Golden Keys. By Jamzs EB. Arnoxp.

“No better fairy book than this has come our way fora long time. Itis written
with singular grace and skill; so perfect is the illusion, no child will doubt for
a moment that it is all a true story.”—-Christian Leader.

The Story of a Queen. By Many C. Rowsziu.

‘Miss Rowsell is an excellent story-teller; she is especially successful in
historical tales; her chronicle of Marie and her trials is thrilling.”—Guardian.

Joan’s Adventures, At the North Pole and Elsewhere, By Aticz
CoRERAN.

“This is a most delightful fairy story. The charming style and easy prose
narrative makes its resemblance striking to Hans Andersen’s.”—Spectator,

Edwy: Or, Was He a Coward? By Annerre Lysrer.

“This is a charming story, and sufficiently varied to suit children of all ages.”
—The Academy.

Filled with Gold. By Jennie Pzrrerr,

“The tale is interesting, and gracefully told. Miss Perrett's description of life
on the quiet Jersey farm will have a great charm,”—Spectator. Z

The Battlefield Treasure. By F. Bayrorp Hanntson.

“Jack Warren is a lad of the Tom Brown type, and his search for treasure and
the sequel are sure to prove interesting to boys.”—English Teacher.

By Order of Queen Maude. By Louisa Crow.

“The tale is brightly and cleverly told, and forms one of the best children’s
books which the season has produced.”—
Our General: A Story for Girls. By Euizapern J. Lysacur,

“A young girl of indomitable spirit, to whom all instinctively turn for guid-
ance—a noble pattern for girls.”—Guardian.

Aunt Hesba’s Charge. By Exiapera J. Lysacur,

“This well-written book tells how a maiden aunt is softened by the influence
of two Indian children who are unexpectedly left upon her hands.”—Academy.

Into the Haven, By Annie 8. Swan.

“No story more attractive, by reason of its breezy freshness, as well as for the
practical lessons it conveys.”—Christian Leader.
BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 29



BLACKIE’S EIGHTEENPENNY SERIES—Continued.

Our Frank: and other Stories. By Amy Watton.

“These stories are of the sort that children of the clever kind are sure to like.”
—Academy.

The Late Miss Hollingford. By Rosa Munsonianp.

“No book for girls published this season approaches this in the charm of its
telling, which will be equally appreciated by persons of all ages.” —Standard.
The Pedlar and His Dog. By Mary C. Rowsett.

“The opening chapter, with its description of Necton Fair, will forcibly remind
many readers of George Eliot. Taken altogether it is a delightful story.”—
Western Morning News.

A Terrible Coward. By G@ Manvitie Fenn.

“Just such a tale as boys will delight to read, and as they are certain to profit
by.”—Aberdeen Journal.

Tom Finch’s Monkey: and other Yarns. By J. C. Hurcuxson.

“Stories of an altogether unexceptionable character, with adventures sufficient
for a dozen books of its size.” U. Service Gazette.

Miss Grantley’s Girls. By Tuomas Ancuer.

«For fireside reading more wholesome and highly entertaining reading for young
people could not be found.”—Northern Chronicle.
Down and Up Again. By Grueson Gow.

“The story is very neatly told, with some fairly dramatic incidents, and cal-
culated altogether to please young people.”—Scotsman.

The Troubles and Triumphs of Little Tim. A City Story,
By Grecson Gow.

“ An undercurrent of sympathy with the struggles of the poor, and an ability
to describe their feelings, eminently characteristic of Dickens, are marked fea.
tures in Mr. Gow’s story.”—-.V. B. Mail.

The Happy Lad: A Story of Peasant Life in Norway. From the
Norwegian of Bjérnson,

“This pretty story has natural eloquence which seems to carry us back to some
of the love stories of the Bible.’—Aberdeen Free Press.

The Patriot Martyr: and other Narratives of Female Heroism.

“Tt should be read with interest by every girl who loves to learn what her sex
can accomplish in times of danger.”—Bristol Times.

Madge’s Mistake. By Anni E. ArmstRone.

“We cannot speak too highly of this delightful little tale. It abounds in
interesting and laughable incidents,’—Bristol Times.

Box of Stories. Packed for Young Folk by Horace Happyman.

When I was a Boy in China, By Yan Prov Les.

“Has been written not only by a Chinaman, but by a man of culture. His
book is as interesting to adults as it is to children." —The Guardian.
30 BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.



THE SHILLING SERIES OF BOOKS
FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.

Square 16mo, Illustrated, and neatly bound in cloth extra.



The Lost Dog, and other Stories.
By Ascorr RK. Hopr.

The Rambles of Three Children.
By GERALDINE MockLEr.

A Council of Courtiers. By Cora
LANGTON.



A Parliament of Pickles. By Cora
LANGTON.

Sharp Tommy: A Story for Boys and
Girls. By E. J. Lysagur.

The Strange Adventures of Nell,
Eddie, and Toby. By GERALDINE
MOocKLER.

Freda’s Folly. By M. 8. Hayorart.

Philip Danford: A Story of School
Life. By JULIA GODDARD.

The Youngest Princess, By JENNIE
CHAPPELL.

Arthur’s Temptation.
LESLIE,

A Change for the Worse. By M.
HARRIET M. CApEs.

Our Two Starlings. By CHristran
REDFORD.

Mr. Lipscombe’s Apples. By Junia
GODDARD.

Gladys: Or, The Sister's Charge. By
E. O'BYRNE.

A Gypsy against Her Will. By
Euua LESLIE.

The Castle on the Shore. By Isa-
BEL HORNIBROOK.

An Emigrant Boy’s Story. By
Ascorr R, Hoprg.

Jock and his Friend. By Cora
LANGTON.

John a’ Dale. By Mary C. RowsEtu.

In the Summer Holidays. By Jun-
NETT HUMPHREYS.

How the Strike Began.
LESLIE.

Tales from the Russian of Madame
Kubalensky. By G. JENNER.

Cinderella’s Cousin. By PENELOPE.
Their New Home. By A. 8. FENN.
Janie’s Holiday. By C. Reprorp.

By EMMA

By EMMA



A Boy Musician: or, The Young Days
of Mozart.

Hatto’s Tower. By M. C. RowsELt.
Fairy Lovebairn’s Favourites.
Alf Jetsam. By Mrs. Gro. CUPPLES.
The Redfords. By Mrs. G. Cuprrizs.
Missy. By F. BAayrorD Harrison.
Hidden Seed. By Emma Lesuin.
Ursula’s Aunt. By ANNIE S. FENN.

Jack’s Two Sovereigns, By ANNIE
S. FENN.

A Little Adventurer,
Gow.

Olive Mount. By ANNIn 8. FENN.
Three Little Ones. By C. Lanoton.

By GREGSON

Tom Watkins’ Mistake. By Emara
LEsuIn.
Two Little Brothers. By M. Har-

RIET M. Capgs.

The New Boy at Merriton. By
JULIA GODDARD.

The Children of Haycombe. By
ANNIE 8, FENN.

The Cruise of the ‘‘Petrel.” By
F. M. Hours.

The Wise Princess. By M. Harriet
M. Carus,

The Blind Boy of Dresden and
his Sister.

Jon_of Iceland: A Story of the Far
North.

Stories from Shakespeare.
Every Man in his Place.

Fireside Fairies and Flower
Fancies.

To the Sea in Ships.
Jack’s Victory: Stories about Dogs.

Story of a King. By one of his Sol-
diers.
Prince Alexis: or, Old Russia.

Little Daniel: A Story of a Flood on
the Rhine.

Sasha the Serf: Stories of Russian
Life.

True Stories of Foreign History.
BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR CHILDREN. 31



THE NINEPENNY SERIES OF BOOKS FOR
CHILDREN.

Feap 8vo, Illustrated, and neatly bound in cloth extra.



Little Miss Masterful.
‘TIDDEMAN,

A Sprig of Honeysuckle: A Story
of Epping Forest. By GEORGINA
M, SQUIRE.

An Australian Childhood. By ELLEN
CAMPBELL.

By L. B, TIDDEMAN.
By W. L.

By L. E.

Kitty Carroll.

A Joke for a Pienic.
ROOPER.

Cross Purposes, and The Sha-
dows. By GEorGE Mac DONALD. ,

Patty’s Ideas, and What Came of
Them, By L. EK. LIDDEMAN.

Daphne: A Story of Self-conquest.
By E. O'BYRNE.

Lily and Rose in One. By CECILIA
8. LowNnpDz&ES.

Crowded Out: or, The Story of Lil's
Patience. By M. B. MANWELL.

Tom in a Tangle. By IT. Sparrow.

Things will Take a Turn. By
BEATRICH TARRADEN.

Max or Baby. By Ismay THORN.

The Lost Thimble. By Mrs. Mus-
GRAVE. ‘

Jack-a-Dandy.
A Day of Adventures.
LOTEE WYATT.

The Golden Plums.
CLARE.

By E. J. LYSAGHT.
By CHAR-

By FRANCIS

“The same good character pervades all these books.
The lessons deduced are such as to mould children’s
We cannot too highly commend them for their excel-

adapted for the young.
minds in a good groove.
lence.” —Schoolmistress.



The Queen of Squats. By Isanen
HoRNIBROOK.

Shueks.

Sylvia Brooke. By M. Harrier M.
CAPES.

The Little Cousin. By A. S. FENN.
In Cloudland. By Mrs. MusGRAVE.

By EMMA LESLIE.

Jack and the Gypsies, By KATE
Woop.

Hans the Painter. By Mary C.
ROWSELL.

Little Troublesome. By ISABEL
HORNIBROOK.

My Lady May: and One Other Story.
By HARRIET BOULTWOOD.

A Little Hero. By Mrs. MUSGRAVE.

Prince Jon’s Pilgrimage. By
JESSIE FLEMING.

Harold’s Ambition: or, A Dream of
Fame. By JENNIE PERRETT.

Sepperl the Drummer Boy. By
Mary C. RowsEun.

Aboard the Mersey. By
GEORGE CUPPLES.

A Blind Pupil. By ANNIn 8. FENN.

Lost and Found. By Mrs. Carb
ROTHER.

Mrs.

Fisherman Grim. By Mary C.

ROWSELL.

They are admirably

pe Se

SOMETHING FOR THE VERY LITTLE ONES.

Fully Mlustrated.

Tales Easy and Small for the Young-
est of All. In no word will you see
more letters than three. By J.
IIUMPHREYS.

Old Dick Grey and Aunt Kate's Way.
Stories in words of not more than
four letters. By J. HUMPHREYS.

64 pp., cloth.

Sixpence each.

Maud’s Doll and Her Walk. In
Words of not more than four let-
ters. By J. IUMPHREYS.

In Holiday Time. In words of not
more than five letters. By J.
HUMPHREYS.

Whisk and Buzz.
GARLICK,

By Mrs, A. EH.
82 ; BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR CHILDREN.



THE SIXPENNY SERIES FOR CHILDREN,
‘Neatly bound in cloth extra, Each contains 64 pages and a Coloured Cut.

From over the Sea. By L. E. TrppE-
MAN,

The Kitchen Cat. By Amy Waurton.
The Royal Eagle. ByLovisa THomp-
SON.

Two Little Mice. By Mrs. Garzick.

A Little Man of War. By L. &.
TIDDEMAN.

Lady Daisy. By CARroLine Stewarn.
Dew. By H. Mary Witson.

Chris’s Old Violin. By J. Lockarr.
Mischievous Jack, By A. CorkRan.
The Twins. By L. E. Tippeman.
Pet’s Project. By Cora Lancton.
The Chosen Treat. By 0. Wyart,
Little Neighbours. By A. S. Fenn.

Jim: A Story of Child Life. By Curis-
TIAN BURKE.

Little Curiosity: or, A German Christ-
mas. By J. M. CALLWELL.

Sara the Wool-gatherer. By W.
L. Rooper.

Fairy Stories: told by PrNELOPE.
A New Year’s Tale, By M. A.CurRIE.
Little Mop. By Mrs. CHARLES BRAY.

‘A very praiseworthy series of Prize Books.



The Tree Cake, and other Stories.
By W. L. Rooper.

Nurse Peggy, and Little Dog Trip.

Fanny’s King. By DARLEY DALE.

Wild Marsh Marigolds. By D. DALE. .

Kitty’s Cousin. By Hannan B.
MACKENZIE.

Cleared at Last.
DARD.

Little Dolly Forbes. By ANNIn S.
FENN.

By Junta Gop-

A Year with Nellie. By A. 8. Fenn.

The Little Brown Bird.

ane, Mold of Domremy, and other
ales.

Little Eric: a Story of Honesty.

Unele Ben the Whaler.

The Palace of Luxury.

The Charcoal Burner.

Willy Black: A Story of Doing Right,

The Horse and His Ways.

The Shoemaker’s Present.

Lights to Walk by.

The Little Merchant.

Nicholina: A Story about an Iceberg

Most of the stories are designed

to enforce some important moral lesson, such as honesty, industry, kindness,

helpfulness.”—School Guardian.



A SERIES OF FOURPENNY REWARD BOOKS.
Each 64 pages, 18mo, Illustrated, in Picture Boards.

A Start in Life. By J. Lockwant.

Happy Childhood. By Amun DE
VENOIX DAWsoN.

Dorothy’s Clock. By Do.
Toddy. By L. E. Tippeman.
Stories about myDolls. By FELICIA
MELANCTHON.
Stories about my Cat Timothy.
Delia’s Boots. By W. L. Rooprr.
Lost on the Rocks. By R. Scorrmr.
A Kitten’s Adventures. By Cano-
LINE STEWART.
Climbing the Hill.
SWAN.

A Year at Coverley. By ANNiIn S.
SWAN.

By ANNIE S.

Phil Foster. By J. Lookwarm,
Papa’s Birthday. By W. L. Rooper.
The Charm Fairy. By Punnioprn.
Little Tales for Little Children.
By M. A. CURRIE.
Worthy of Trust.
KENZIE.
Brave and True, By Grecson Gow.
Johnnie Tupper’s Temptation. Do.
Maudie and Bertie. Do.

The Children and the Water-Lily.
By JuLIA Gopparp.

Poor Tom Olliver.

Fritz’s Experiment.
M‘LINTock.,

Lucy’s Christmas-Box,

By H. B. Mac-

By Do.
By Levitra



BLACKIE & SON, Lrmirzp,
LONDON, GLASGOW, EDINBURGH, AND DUBLIN,