It 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 preconcerted 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 seventeen, 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 engagement. The
abbot was sufficiently occupied 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 stationing 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 Glencallum, 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 midway
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 building in the Norman style,
inclosed by a high 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 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.
"It 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 to a 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."
"I will adventure it, my son," said the abbot solemnly.
"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 seagulls floated in mid-air above the sea, and the
autumn trees waved their golden clusters in the breeze. From the
chimneys 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.
"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!"
"I will stay you!" cried Elspeth. "Your right arm shall wither, your
eyes shall grow 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 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.
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 turning
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 expedition of plunder on the
banks of the Clyde.
Being joined by other ships from Kintyre, Islay, and Jura, together with
the forces of Margad who had invaded and conquered the isle of Arran,
his armament now numbered sixty galleys. 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.
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
beautiful lake were completely ravaged, and the houses on its borders
burnt to the ground.
After this, Roderic and Magnus made an extended expedition into the rich
county of Stirling, in which they massacred great numbers of
inhabitants, and returned 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. 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 conquered; 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 received Kenric's early warning
of the coming of the Norsemen, had with many Scots and English 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 afterwards, became known to the world as the field of
Bannockburn, when suddenly a most beautiful maiden with blood-red hair
threw herself 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.
"I am a maid of Bute, your Majesty, and a faithful vassal of my lord
Earl Kenric of that isle. And I 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 approaching upon Stirling.
And oh, your Majesty, of your mercy I implore you to give speedy succour
to your injured subjects by driving this enemy from our midst!"
"How came you here?" asked the King.
"I was carried off as a prisoner from Rothesay 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 conquests.
"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 messages 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 islands inclosed by it -- Arran, Bute, and
the two 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, rejected. 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
overlooking 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 negotiation
failed, then he would throw down the gauntlet 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.