Two weeks of gloomy weather passed, with clouded skies and fitful winds.
During that time nothing was heard in Bute of either Roderic the Rover
or King Hakon of Norway. Kenric and his men, with the priests of St.
Blane's, made busy work in burying the dead. Also, they got all their
shipmen and fishers, farm workers and shepherds, to build up the
devastated cottages and farmsteads, and one by one these dwellings again
received their wonted inmates. The villages of Rothesay, Ardbeg, Kames,
Ascog, and other settlements in the island had been roughly handled by
the invaders, and many farms had been despoiled. But for the greater
part the shells of the houses had been left standing, and there were
many hands to make light work of restoring them.
The Lady Adela of Rothesay, Lady Grace de Currie, Ailsa Redmain, and the
women of Rothesay Castle took up their quarters in the nunnery attached
to the barony of St. Blane's, for none would return to the castle while
yet a Norseman remained therein; and Kenric had passed his word that he
would not attempt to regain possession of his stronghold until the kings
of Norway and Scotland had settled their dispute.
On the last day of September Sir Piers de Currie, Kenric, and Allan --
now Sir Allan Redmain, for the knighthood of Scotland was hereditary --
were walking over from Ascog, when, looking towards the seaboard between
Arran and the Cumbraes, they observed a great fleet of ships, with many
flags flying from their masts, making across the Clyde. A hundred and
fifty war galleys there were in all.
"The saints protect us!" cried Allan. "What means all this?"
"'Tis even as I expected," said Kenric. "They are the ships of Hakon of
Norway, who now intends to invade the mainland."
"Then, if this be indeed so," said Sir Piers, "methinks it is now our
place to be following under the banner of our sovereign. Too long have
we already delayed. To your ships, Kenric! To your ships this very hour!
Muster your men and let us at once hasten over to Cunningham, for, if I
mistake not, King Alexander must even now be marching to the coast. 'Tis
but small help that we can offer, but let it not be said that we shirked
our duty in the hour of Scotland's need."
"Go, Sir Allan," said Kenric, "hasten to the headland of Garroch and
there blow me on your horn the call to arms. Not long will our men be in
answering that summons.
"And now, Sir Piers, to you do I resign the command of our forces. Give
us your directions and we will promptly obey."
"Let every man who can draw a longbow, or wield pike or sword, be sent
upon the ships," said the knight. "At noon, when the tide is at the half
flood, we set sail for Gourock."
"Gourock?"
"Even so. The bay of Gourock is our best shelter, and thence we can
march southward towards Largs, or to whatsoever spot the enemy determine
to make their landing place."
"'Tis well," said Kenric.
"And furnish me with the best horse you can find," added Sir Piers, "for
'tis on horseback that I would fight."
So at noon that day seven galleys hove anchor in the bay of Kilchattan,
with each a company of seven score men; in all a thousand gallant
islanders sailed that day from Bute. Creeping up the shores of the
island, past Kerrycroy and Ascog, they steered across by Toward Point.
And by this time the fleet of King Hakon had disappeared into the
channel that flows between the two Cumbrae islands.
As Kenric's ships crossed the Clyde a drizzling rain came on, and the
wind began to blow in fitful gusts from the southwest. But they reached
the safe harbour of Gourock without mishap, and there cast anchor.
That night the half moon that shone dimly through the scudding clouds
lay on her back, with a great circle of light around her, betokening
stormy weather.
The next morning, which was the 1st of October, was cold and windy. Sir
Piers ordered his troops ashore, leaving but a few shipmen to watch the
galleys. Landing amidst a shower of heavy hail he was met by a party of
mounted Scots clad in complete mail, who told him that King Alexander
had already started from Lanark with fifteen hundred mounted men-at-arms.
Sir Piers marshalled his islanders in order and gave the word to march,
and ever as they moved southward they were joined by the villagers and
parties of sturdy fighting men.
Kenric and Allan, with Duncan Graham at their side, marched afoot, for
both were wont to feel ill at ease in the saddle. Nevertheless Allan
cast many an envious glance at the gallant knight who led them. Sir
Piers was clothed in the most beautiful suit of armour that had ever
been seen in that time. His horse was a powerful Spanish jennet that had
belonged to Earl Hamish of Bute, and it was protected by a heavy
breastplate and flank armour. The rider was splendidly armed from head
to foot, his helm and coat of mail being inlaid with gold. At his left
side there hung a long claymore, longer by three inches than Kenric's
great sword. In his right hand he held a ponderous battle-axe of solid
brass, and from his pommel there hung a spiked mace whose head was as
large as the head of a man. His belt was studded with precious stones.
Not in all his army had King Alexander a stronger or nobler warrior than
Sir Piers de Currie; nor had he one, either strong or weak, who had a
deeper hatred against the Norse invaders, for they had burnt down his
castle of Ranza, and by them had his own uncle's castle of Brodick been
razed to the ground and his uncle slain. He was to fight that day for
his beautiful wife and his children, for the possession of his estates,
for his revenge against his enemies, and for his King and country; and
none who saw him could have doubted that he would prove a most valiant
and powerful antagonist.
Kenric had on his crested helm of brass, and wore a shirt of steel mail.
His knees and arms were bare, showing his firm muscles and the suntanned
skin; on his feet he wore buskins of double hide, and his legs were
protected by brass greaves. Over his back his longbow was slung beside
his full arrow sheaf. At his right side was his dirk, at his left the
sword of Somerled. On his arm he carried a small round shield studded
with nails, though this was more an encumbrance than a defence, since
his sword required the use of his two hands, and the shield might only
be employed as a protection against arrows fired from a distance.
Sir Allan Redmain was attired in like manner. As to their islanders,
some few of them of the better condition -- as Duncan Graham and Ronald
Gray -- wore shirts of mail, but the larger number, so far from desiring
armour when they came to close quarters with the enemy, even threw their
plaids aside and fought in their shirts, bare legged, bare armed, bare
headed. Many of them carried bows and arrows; all had either claymores
or pole-axes, with daggers and targets.
They had marched some ten miles southward through the sheltered glens of
Noddsdale when, mounting to the ridge of the range of hills that rise
above the shores of Cunningham, they were met by a keen icy wind from
the southwest. Below them stretched the wide Firth of Clyde, turbulent,
angry with foam-capped waves. Far across the water rose the giant
mountains of Arran, with their tattered peaks frowning in dark-blue
blackness against the leaden sky, and through a rent in the clouds a
long beam of sunshine shot, slanting down for a moment upon the soft
green hills of Bute. On the nearer side were the two islands of Cumbrae,
with a strip of gray sea between them, where lay the storm-tossed
galleys of King Hakon the Old.
These ships, which during the night had taken shelter in the harbour
that is now named Millport Bay, were already making for the shores of
the mainland below the village of Largs, for it was at this point that
the Norse king had determined to land his invading forces.
Largs was not a spot which a modern general would have chosen for an
invasion. It was ill suited for troops forming in strength after
landing. There is a narrow strip of level ground, with bluffs rising
right up from it. Troops marching along this strip, either north or
south, would be flanked by the higher ground for many miles. To attempt
to pass through any of the ravines which pierce the range of hills would
have been perilous. Nevertheless Hakon had chosen this landing place.
"Methinks," said Sir Piers de Currie, as he watched the Norse galleys
battling with the waves, "that our work is already half accomplished.
Should the wind rise yet higher no easy task will Hakon find it to land
his men on that lee shore."
"Had I been he," said Kenric, "it is not thus that I would have lingered
among the isles ere I made a descent upon the mainland. Had Hakon
pressed onward with all his forces, instead of despatching a squadron
here and a squadron there for useless plundering, had he made straight
for Scotland while yet the fair weather continued, and while yet King
Alexander was unaware of his approach, he might even have made a
successful conquest.
"But look eastward yonder across the hills at the fair troop of Scots
advancing in battle array. Look down upon the plain of Largs, where a
good two thousand men are waiting ready. Soon will King Alexander
himself be here with his cavalry from Lanark. By my faith, the Norseman
will have a warmer welcome than he looks for!"
"Let us then hasten downward," said Sir Piers, "that we may have a taste
of the battle before the elements have entirely robbed us of our foe."
Troop after troop of Scots marched onward toward Largs. From Ayr they
came, from Renfrew, Dumbarton, Stirling, Turnberry, and many another
stronghold that had been warned of the enemy's nearness by means of
beacon fires on the highest hilltops.
But of the forces that were making ready to meet them the Norsemen knew
little. They were at present too much engaged in attending to the safety
of their ships, and not any of them could make a landing that day. The
wind rose higher, the tempest increased in fury, and at nightfall there
came a deluging storm of hail and rain which continued until late next
morning.
For this the Scots cared little. Curling themselves up with their plaids
about them they slept soundly upon the heather, undisturbed by the
howling of the wind and the raging of the waves upon the rocky shore.
But with the invaders it was far from being such an easy matter. Their
anchors dragged. Many vessels had to have their masts cut away. King
Hakon's own gallant ship, although secured by seven anchors, was driven
from her moorings, and five galleys were cast ashore.
And now when the tempest seemed to threaten the total destruction of
their enemies, a mixed multitude of armed Scots on the surrounding
heights watched every movement of the Norwegian fleet, ready to take
instant advantage of its distress. So, when the five galleys with their
armed shipmen were driven ashore, Sir Piers de Currie and the men of
Bute rushed down from the heights and attacked the stranded vessels.
Whereupon the Norsemen defended themselves with great gallantry.
The rest of the fleet were presently seen beating up the channel towards
Largs, and, as the tempest had lulled, reinforcements soon landed in
such numbers that the Scots were forced to retire towards the heights.
At sunrise King Hakon himself came ashore with a force of three thousand
men, ordering an advance towards the higher ground. At the moment when
the marching order was given the army of King Alexander appeared upon
the hilltop. The sun's rays breaking through the ragged clouds sparkled
upon spears and cuirasses. The cavalry made a noble appearance. Most of
them were knights and barons from the neighbouring counties, armed from
head to heel, and mounted on Spanish horses which were clothed in
complete armour. With this troop of fifteen hundred horsemen was a vast
body of foot soldiers.
Seeing all this, Sir Piers de Currie no longer hesitated to renew his
engagement. Rallying his men he began to skirmish with the advance of
the Danes and Norwegians. He pressed on both flanks with so much fury
that, fearing they would be cut to pieces -- as many were -- the enemy
began a retreat which soon changed into a flight. King Hakon and many of
his best fighting men scrambled into the boats and pushed off into the
safety of the deeper water, regaining their ships.
Everything now depended upon the landing of reinforcements. But at this
critical moment a violent storm of hail came on; the wind rose again
with such strength that it completed the ruin of many of the ships. In
the midst of the fighting on land there was a still more furious battle
upon the waves. Galley after galley was driven upon the rocks, and their
crews had little spirit for meeting their overpowering enemies.
Between the anger of the elements and the ceaseless showers of arrows
from the Scots, their army was greatly distressed. Their leaders, too,
began to desert them, and in their frantic efforts to escape they
overcrowded the boats, many of which went down.
Sir Piers de Currie now drew up his men in line on the hillside, and
left them in charge of Allan Redmain and Kenric. Then he rode to meet
the King, whose troops had by this time descended to the level ground.
"So, then, Sir Piers," said Alexander, whose tall figure, as he sat on
his brown jennet, was almost wholly covered by a great cloak -- "so you
have arrived before us? And are we then to have no share in this
adventure? 'Tis passing unfriendly in you thus to dismiss our enemy ere
we have seen his face. Tarry awhile and let them land again. Our
horsemen here are like hounds straining at the leash. What men have you,
Sir Piers?"
"A few hundred peasant lads, your Majesty, and some eight hundred men of
Bute," said the knight.
"And are there then none cf your own men of Arran?"
"Alas, sire, these Norse dogs have left me but a handful of followers,
for my uncle has been slain, and our four castles have been taken. Our
islanders have taken refuge among the mountains. I and my family, who,
by God's grace, escaped, have been these two weeks past in Bute, where
Earl Kenric has most heroically saved the lives of many hundreds of your
loyal subjects. 'Tis true he has lost his castles of Rothesay and
Kilmory, but --"
"Kenric of Bute has done well," said the King. "We have already heard of
all that he has done for the people of Bute. It was from one of his own
messengers that we first heard of Hakon's arrival on our coasts. Kenric
shall not be forgotten. Our only regret is that he did not put an end to
that villainous outlaw his uncle. But there may yet be hope that Roderic
is in the field this day. So we pray you, Sir Piers, should you
encounter him, deal him his death blow, and you shall have our eternal
gratitude. And now to your work, and God defend the right."
Then as Sir Piers rode off to rejoin his troops, the King turned to a
stalwart warrior at his side and bade him show King Hakon a lesson in
defence. This warrior was Alexander the high steward of Scotland, a man
bred in the use of arms, and, next to Sir Piers de Currie, the most
valiant soldier that fought in that field. And with him rode three good
English knights who were of the court of Alexander. With a full company
of cavalry he rode across the plain and took up his position with Sir
Piers de Currie.
During this interval the hailstorm had abated, and the Norsemen had
again effected a landing in great numbers under the chiefs Ogmund
Kraekidantz and Haffling of Orkney.
Sir Piers de Currie and the steward rode forward side by side,
attempting in the chivalrous style of the time to provoke an encounter.
But none would take this challenge, so Sir Piers rode back. Then the
steward, riding in front of the ranks of the enemy who were drawn up
along the beach, was speedily surrounded. Spurring his charger, he
dashed forward, and wielding his great battle-axe he struck down the
opposing Norsemen as the waving wheat falls before the sickle, leaving a
row of slain men in his track.
The Norsemen then rushed forward with loud cries to meet the troops of
peasants and men of Bute who charged them. But the horsemen galloped in
between and drove the enemy along the shore. The fair-haired warriors of
the North again and again rallied and behaved with the accustomed
bravery of their viking ancestors, fearless of wounds and glorying in
warlike death.
Many galleys were then brought nearer inshore, and though assailed by
heavy stones from the Scots' machines and ceaseless showers of arrows,
their men scrambled upon the beach. And now Sir Piers de Currie again
rode forward, followed by Kenric, Allan Redmain, Duncan Graham, many men
of Bute, and others of Lanark and Ayr. This was the one sortie of the
engagement that was in the nature of a real battle. In numbers the two
sides were almost equal.
Sir Piers was met by five Norse chiefs, and he encountered them with
fierce courage. One by one he felled them to the ground, cleaving their
brass helms with his heavy axe. And ever as they fell their places were
taken by as many others. At his horse's left side fought Kenric, Allan,
and Duncan; Kenric swinging his great sword and smiting right and left
at those who tried to reach the horseman, Allan and Duncan in like
manner fighting with steady blows. And thus they pressed their way ever
farther into the ranks of the enemy, moving with Sir Piers, backward or
forward, and defending his left side as he slew his assailants on his right.
Kenric heard the gallant knight's panting breath growing weaker.
"To the other side, Duncan," he cried. And Duncan Graham worked round
behind the horse's tail to relieve Sir Piers of some of his foes who
pressed upon him. Not long had he changed his position when Kenric saw
the horse swerve and fall. A deep groan from Sir Piers was all that told
of the terrible wounds he had received.
The Norwegian chronicle recording this fight says that Sir Piers de
Currie was killed by a blow which severed his thigh from his body, the
sword cutting through the greaves of his armour and penetrating to the
saddle. Howbeit the brave Sir Piers was slain, and the man who slew him
was the outlaw Roderic MacAlpin.
Duncan Graham, seeing who had done this thing, at once closed with
Roderic, and the two fought with terrible vigour.
Now Duncan, ever since he had received that wound in his chest over at
Coll, had lost the power to raise his right arm above his head, and it
went ill with him. When Kenric, rushing to Sir Piers de Currie's right
side, first saw his enemy, Roderic was in the act of smiting a fearful
blow upon Duncan's bare and outstretched neck. Duncan fell, not even
uttering a groan, so speedily fatal was the blow he had received.
But above the clang of the battle and the thunderous surging of the
waves, there rose at this moment into the air a woman's cry of anguish.
It was the cry of Aasta the Fair.
Wearing the same coat of mail and helmet that she had worn at the siege
of Rothesay, and wielding a light broadsword, she had been fighting with
as fearless bravery as any man there present. She had cloven her way
through the battling men to the place where rose the towering head of
her lover Duncan, and arrived at his side at the very moment when the
sword of Roderic smote him down. Splashed with her lover's blood she
gripped her sword, nor paused to see if Duncan were indeed dead. She
leapt with a wolf-like howl upon Roderic MacAlpin, and so pressed him
with her blows that he stepped back and back.
The maid, though strong, was ill-trained in the use of the sword, and
her every blow was skilfully parried. But to Aasta's side came Kenric,
his eyes gleaming with fierce hatred of his foe. They were now at the
very verge of the sea, and the spray from the surging billows fell upon
them like heavy rain. Roderic struck at Aasta, muttering a curse, and
Kenric in parrying that blow missed his chance. He saved Aasta's life,
but before he could recover his weapon, Roderic had quickly turned round
and plunged into the foaming waves.
Promptly did Kenric thrust his sword between his knees and take his
longbow from over his shoulder. Aasta as promptly handed him an arrow.
He saw Roderic standing waist deep in the breakers sheathing his sword.
He levelled an arrow at his throat, but quickly as the arrow flew
Roderic raised his shield. The dart plunged into the hard board. Another
and another arrow followed with the same result. Then Roderic, throwing
himself into the deeper water, and holding his shield to defend his bare
neck, swam outward towards the ships.
No other man in all that host could have breasted those great waves
without being dashed to pieces on the rocks. But Roderic MacAlpin was as
much at home in the water as upon the dry land, and though Kenric
believed that he had but preferred a watery grave to being hacked to
death by sword or axe, yet Roderic reached his ship in safety and lived
to fight another day.
Kenric, returning with Aasta from the beach, found Allan Redmain,
surrounded by many men of Bute, fighting still. There was a great sword
cut across his cheek, but his strong arms waved about him unceasingly,
smiting down at every blow one of the fair-haired warriors of the North.
Then Kenric joined in the fray, swinging his trusty blade to right, to
left, and forcing his way to Allan's side, where he stood his ground
over the dead body of Sir Piers de Currie.
That good knight's splendid armour had caught the eyes of his covetous
foes, who were also enraged at the thought of the many doughty Norsemen
who had fallen under his mighty blows. Twelve of their best men were
victims of his well-wielded battle-axe, and of the twelve were the Norse
barons Ogmund Kraekidantz, Thorlang Bosi, Paul Soor, Andrew Nicholson,
and King Hakon's own nephew, Hakon of Steini, all of them most gallant
and brave warriors.
But not less enraged were the Scots on their side at the death of Sir
Piers, whose body now became the centre point of battle. The Norsemen
strove to gain possession of his armour, and piece by piece they carried
it away. But ever the Scots bore down upon their foes. Swords, pikes,
and axes dripped with the crimson drops of battle, arrows and heavy
stones fell in the midst of the contending forces; the groans of the
wounded, the lusty shouts of the deep-throated combatants sounded loud
above the raging of the wind and the thunderous beating of the waves.
Very soon the foemen shrank away, leaving a great gap in their lines
through which the Scots cavalry charged, driving the Norsemen to their
ships, or forcing them into the turbulent sea.
At the head of the cavalry rode the Scottish King with his valiant
steward at his side. But little did the horsemen do, for the enemy,
already routed by the defenders, and further dispersed by the tempest of
wind and hail, gave up the fight. Many scrambled upon their boats and
pushed off from land, and very soon there was scarce a living Norseman
to be seen upon the strand.
The steward of Scotland then drew up his forces to the heights, where
they formed anew. There they remained for many hours in the shelter of
the woods, for the storming of the elements was terrible to behold.
Towards evening the tempest lulled and the Norsemen, still undaunted,
again ventured ashore in vast numbers, landing their boats through a
tremendous surf. These new troops, led by Roderic MacAlpin and Haffling
of Orkney, attacked the Scots upon two points, making a desperate
charge, and with such success that they killed many and drove the whole
army back into the farther valley. But here the Scots suddenly halted.
Their left wing wheeled round, and taking the invaders in their rear
they speedily brought to an end that battle of Largs.
The relics of this brave body of invaders, with their two leaders, again
embarked in their boats, and although the storm continued, safely
arrived at the fleet. The remaining ships of Hakon were woefully
shattered; they drove from their anchors, many were stranded on the
shore, others struck against shallows and rocks, or found equal disaster
by running foul of each other.
The next morning presented a beach covered with dead bodies and a sea
strewn with wreckage.
King Hakon himself had never so much as drawn his sword. His barons and
officers had urged him to remain on board his ship. Defeated, and
dismayed at his manifold disasters, he called for a truce for the burial
of his dead, and five days were spent by friend and foe in consort in
raising above the graves of the fallen warriors those rude memorials the
traces of which still remain to mark the field of battle.
Of the twenty thousand followers of the Norse king scarcely as many
hundreds remained alive, and of his splendid fleet but a score of
dismantled galleys were left afloat to carry back the defeated invaders
to their several homes.
Crossing to the outer seas, Hakon gathered about him the few pirate
chiefs who had joined him in the hope of plunder, and upon them he
bestowed as rewards for their service the islands of which he had made
imaginary conquest. He gave the isle of Arran to Earl Margad, who had
invaded it, and upon Roderic MacAlpin he bestowed the isle of Bute.
These chiefs, however, did not at once take possession of their estates,
but remained on the ships that they might help to replenish the
exhausted provisions of the fleet by forcible contribution from the isles.
King Hakon now felt the vast change that had come over his armament
during the few weeks since he sailed down among the Western Isles,
conquering and winning to his side the island princes as vassals of his
flag. He returned as a baffled invader, and encountered many severe
rebuffs from the islanders as well as further disasters from the winter
storms. The fatigues of that expedition and his bitter disappointments
sank deep into his old heart, and never again did he see the home that
he had left. Landing in Orkney on the 29th of October, he remained in
the palace of Kirkwall, and there died a broken-hearted man.
So concluded this memorable expedition against Scotland, which began
with high hopes, but ended only with disaster and the death of its royal
leader. No more did the sons of the vikings attempt to take their stand
upon the Western Isles.
Alexander III, freed from a restless and powerful enemy, could look
forward to a continuance of peace and prosperity. But he lost no time in
following up the advantages he had gained from the engagement at Largs.
In the following year he sent a strong military force against those
unfortunate chiefs who during the late expedition had remained faithful
to Hakon. Some of the island kings were executed; all were reduced.
Three years afterwards, in 1266, the disputes with Norway were finally
settled by a formal treaty with Magnus IV, Hakon's son, who agreed to
yield to Scotland for ever after, all right and sovereignty over the
Isle of Man and the Western Isles, specially reserving Orkney and
Shetland to the crown of Norway.
In the year 1281 a bond of friendship was established between the two
nations by the marriage of the Scottish princess Margaret, daughter of
Alexander III, to Eric of Norway, the grandson of Hakon the Old. It was
the daughter of this marriage, Margaret the Maid of Norway, whose sad
death in 1290 brought about the disputes of Bruce and Baliol, and led to
the great war of Scottish Independence.