On a day 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 exercised. 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 I 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. Alas!
had Alpin but lived I had hoped to accompany 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 subjects 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."
"'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 I 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 saw a stately company of
men-at-arms advancing, and at their head rode Kenric, mounted on a white
charger. Not now did he appear in the lowly garments of deerskin 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, crying "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 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 anything 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 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 repeated the catalogue of
Kenric's ancestors.
When these ceremonies were over, the young king swore upon his sword
that he would continue 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 who would 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 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.