Erland 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 Roderic of Gigha?" repeated Kenric.
The three looked one to the other with evil smiles. Roderic drank off
what remained in his wine cup.
"I am he," he said coolly as he again folded his arms. "And who, then,
are you who demand 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 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 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 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 companions," 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 Dovenald the bard. "Heard you aught
of a dispute between them, young man?"
"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, knowing 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 herself 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 revenged
upon this traitor for his crime;" and thereupon she took up the
bloodstained weapon and forced it into her son's hand.
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, fulfill your behest. Alpin is now our
rightful king, and his life is of more value than mine."
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.