While 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 I fear
me that Redmain will most surely communicate 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, 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 I 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 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 keeping apart, eyeing one the other,
round and round they traversed. Then Alpin got his back to the 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 had a 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 dexterous 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.
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 yesternight. 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.
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 befallen 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
bloodstained 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 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 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 unavenged; 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.
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 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.