When 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?"
"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 suntanned face.
"And were they men of peace?"
"I 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 uneasy at the thought.
"And now," added he, 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 Rothesay.
"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.
All was calm and still, but through the stillness 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 treetops
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 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 turned
round. The moon's beams pierced the trees and fell upon a glistening
pool of water where a wildcat 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 bowstring; but at the sound of the
creaking bow the wolf gave a sharp yelp and disappeared 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 moonlight. 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.
Now whether this figure appearing so mysteriously 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.