Early on the following morning, which was the last of the year, Elspeth
Blackfell awoke to find herself alone in the cave. Aasta was gone; even
the wolf Lufa was no longer there, and the fire was dead out. Elspeth
with some difficulty kindled the hard dry peats, and went to put some
water into the pot to make porridge. The water in the well at the far
end of the cave was turned to solid ice. At the cave's entrance there
was a fringe of long icicles hanging like sword blades from the bare
rock. All was cold and desolate. The black frost had penetrated
everywhere, even, it seemed, to the old woman's bones, for she moved
slowly and bent for many minutes over the little fire vainly trying to
bring warmth into her shrivelled limbs.
When at last she was able to put some broken ice into her pot, she went
out into the chill open air, climbed the slippery bank, and stood upon
the height looking abroad for Aasta. She heard the tread of footsteps
crunching upon the hard ground among the neighbouring trees; but the
tread was strangely heavy. It was not that of the light-footed maiden.
Elspeth returned into the cave and began to prepare her meal. The sound
of the footsteps continued to fall upon her ears; they came nearer. She
went to the entrance and drew aside the deerskin curtain. She started
back at sight of Roderic the Outlaw.
"You!" she cried, scowling. "What devil's work now brings you back to
Bute? for evil it must surely be that tempts you hither."
"Cease your croaking, Elspeth Blackfell," said he, "and give me food.
This cold has crept into my very marrow. Quick, give me food."
Elspeth stood aside and allowed him to enter. He went to the fire and
snatched up a burning peat, moving it rapidly from hand to hand, and
blowing it into a red glow with his misty breath. Then when he had
warmed himself, he took out his dirk and cut up some wood for the fire,
making the flames rise high about the pot until the water began to simmer.
Elspeth, without speaking, brought him an oaten cake, which he
ravenously devoured. By the time that he had eaten it the water was
boiling. He thrust his strong red hand into the bag of oatmeal, and then
proceeded to stir the porridge, while the old woman brought wooden bowls
and a dish of goat's milk.
They ate their meal in silence, each eyeing the other with suspicious
glances of mutual hatred. Not until he had appeased his hunger did
Roderic say more than a few casual words. Elspeth felt herself in his
power, for she was alone, a frail and weaponless old woman against a
strong healthy man, whose sword might at any moment be flashed forth to
her destruction. She waited, anxiously hoping that Aasta would soon
return with the wolf.
"And now, Elspeth Blackfell," said he at last, as he tossed his empty
bowl into a corner, "you would know my reason for coming back to Bute,
eh? Need you ask it? It is, in the first place, that I may bring my bold
nephew Kenric to his account. I am, as you know, a poor defeated
warrior. I am tired of battling; I would rest myself awhile. My late
sovereign King Hakon of Norway is dead. To Alexander of Scots must I now
turn for protection. 'Tis true he has made me an outlaw; but what of
that? Bute is mine, Gigha is mine, and Alexander can ill afford to keep
me his enemy. I will turn young Kenric from my lands which he usurps,
and I doubt not all will yet go well with me."
"Methinks," said Elspeth, "that you will find it no easy matter to turn
my lord Kenric from his seat, for Alexander loves him right well, and
has assured him of his fullest protection."
"I care not that much for Alexander or Kenric," said Roderic, snapping
his fingers. "Think you that I mean to wander about, a homeless
vagabond, as I have wandered these few weeks past? Not so; Kenric shall
die, and by fair means or foul I shall take his place."
Roderic here stood up to his full height and faced the old woman.
"And now, as to my second motive in returning hither," said he; "it is
to have some words with you --a y, you, Elspeth Blackfell -- concerning
the false prophecy you made me. When, as I landed over at St. Ninian's
three moons ago, with my gallant warriors, I besought you in your
witchery to tell me the true issue of our invasion, you told me --
false-tongued hag that you are -- that if the first blood that was drawn
should be that of a man of Bute, then my Norsemen should be victorious;
and if it was that of a Norseman, then the Scots should win the fight.
And I believed you. Now it was a lad of Bute that gave the first blood,
and yet the Scots are free and the Norsemen are utterly defeated.
Explain me this, thou harridan."
"My lord," said Elspeth, rising and putting the fire between them,
"listen to me. What I said at that time may indeed seem passing strange.
But though I claim no power, as you mistakenly think, to see into the
future, yet nevertheless the words I spake have come true."
"True? How so?" cried he, handling his sword.
"The youth you slew, my lord Roderic, was not of Bute," said Elspeth
with a trembling voice. "Ah! you look with surprise! But wait. You knew
not what you did; you knew not who it was that you so wantonly slew."
"What mean you? Who then was this youth? Of what land was he, and what
was his name?"
Elspeth paused and stepped nearer.
"His name, my lord, was Lulach, and he was the son of Roderic MacAlpin
and Sigrid the Fair."
"You lie, vile witch, you lie!" cried Roderic, recoiling as he heard her
words, and pressing his hands to his brow.
"Not so," said Elspeth, "the youth you then slew was indeed your own son."
"God forgive me!" murmured Roderic, sinking to his seat and burying his
shaggy head in his hands. "Oh, Lulach, Lulach! my son, my son!"
"Well may you weep, my lord; but methinks your punishment is full well
deserved. Better had you obeyed our good abbot, and gone upon the holy
pilgrimage; better still had you remained content upon your isle of
Gigha, and never sought, in your ambition, to wrest from your brother
Hamish the larger inheritance that you coveted. But you slew our good
Earl Hamish; you slew his son Alpin. Blame now yourself alone in that
your folly led you to slay also your own son Lulach. 'Twas an evil game
you played, my lord, and your punishment is just."
"Taunt me no more," said Roderic sullenly. "Taunt me no more. But tell
me, if it indeed be that my boy is dead -- my dear son Lulach, whom I
might have loved all these years had I but known he could be found --
tell me, when came he into Bute?"
"Long years ago, my lord, when he was but a child, and at the time when
you were roving the seas in pursuit of Rapp the Icelander. Had you,
instead of following your life of plundering, but come as a friend and
brother to Earl Hamish, it may be that you might have found your boy.
'Twas not for me to seek you out, or to send Lulach to the home of a
father who was no better than a murdering pirate. The lad was happier
where he was, even though he lived the life of a poor thrall."
"Alas! so near, so very near!" murmured Roderic. "And I believed that
the kelpie had carried off my bairns, while all the time it was but a
few brief miles of sea that divided us!
"My bairns? Ay, there were two. And the other -- the girl -- what of
her? What of my sweet, blue-eyed Aasta?"
"Aasta? She, my lord, is still in life."
"In Bute?"
"Ay, even in Bute."
"God be thanked for that!" sighed Roderic. "There is yet some happiness
in store for me. Where is she? Where may I see her?"
"This very day may you see her, my lord. Tonight the good abbot of St.
Blane's holds the festival of the New Year. Aasta will be within the
chapel."
"Alas! but I cannot show my face in the company of men," said Roderic.
"I am in hiding as an outlaw, and I am alone and ill-defended."
"Be, then, upon the headland of Garroch at the midnight hour," said
Elspeth. "Wait there, my lord, and I will send to you either Aasta
herself or else a messenger who will tell you all you may wish to know."
"Right so," said Roderic; "at midnight on the Garroch Head."
"And now I beg you, Earl Roderic, go hence from this cave. Go hence to
your boat and remain there in hiding; for if it be that the maid, who
knows you not as her father, should learn of your presence in Bute, your
plans will most surely be frustrated."
"I will obey you, Elspeth," said the outlaw, rising.
And forthwith he left the cave.
Elspeth followed him to the heights and watched him journeying southward
through the trees. Then when he was out of sight, she went back to the
cave and sat down, meditating how she might prevent the meeting she had
planned and turn the appointment to a very different account.
She waited for Aasta to return, intending to send the maid at once to
Rothesay to warn Earl Kenric that his outlawed uncle was in the island.
But as Aasta did not appear before midday, Elspeth took her cloak and
staff and prepared to go herself to the castle.
She was putting some new fuel upon the fire, when the curtain at the
cave's entrance was drawn aside, and there she saw Kenric himself. He
wore an otter skin cap that covered his ears, and a great cloak of
sheepskins.
"Give you good day, my lord," said the old woman, her eyes brightening
as she offered him a seat beside the fire.
"Knew you ever so cold a day as this, Elspeth? By the rood, but the
frost bites keenly! And you, how can you live in this cold cell? It
grieves me to see you here. Better it were that you came to bide in our
castle -- you and Aasta. This is no place for a dog to live in in frosty
weather. Where is Aasta? 'Twas her I came to see, for I hear that she
has news from Gigha."
"News indeed, Earl Kenric. But not alone from Gigha. Roderic is even in
Bute."
"In Bute! When came he?"
"Even this morning he was here in this cave. And he has come hither to
do you injury, my lord."
"Doubtless; for when came he to Bute with other intent? Where can I find
him?"
"That will I soon tell," said Elspeth, "and glad I am that so little
time has been lost. You will find him, my lord, at midnight on the
Garroch Head. Take with you your sword of Somerled, and meeting him,
send him speedily to his deserved death. You will not fail. If what I
hear of your increased prowess with your weapon be true, assuredly you
are now a match even for Roderic MacAlpin."
"What takes him to Garroch at that dread hour?"
"It is that he expects to meet Aasta."
"Aasta?"
"Even so, my lord."
"And wherefore should Roderic have aught to do with the maid?"
"You well may ask," said Elspeth, "and it is not willingly that I would
have them meet. But 'twas the only plan I could devise for getting him
from my presence and bringing him to a place where you, my lord, may
encounter him. As to Aasta, of her and of Roderic I have something
strange to tell."
Kenric looked up at Elspeth in surprise.
"You are young, my lord," she continued, and you know not the things
that have been. But I am old. Not always has it been with me as you see
me now. Time was, my lord, when I, who am now a poor infirm woman,
decried as a witch, despised of men, was a fair and joyous young maid.
My father was a king --"
"A king?" echoed Kenric.
"Even so. And he had his castle under the Black Fell that is in far-off
Iceland. Men named me Elspeth White Arm, and my lord and husband was
also a king. He was the noblest and truest of all the monarchs of the
North, and he was the lord over the Westermann Islands. We had one
child, and we named her Sigrid the Fair."
"Elspeth, Elspeth, What is this that you are saying?" cried Kenric,
partly guessing what was to come.
"Sigrid was a wild and self-willed child," the old woman continued,
fixing her blue eyes on Kenric, "but I loved her well. And on a time --
'tis a full score and four years ago -- she disappeared, and we could
find her nowhere, until my lord went out upon his ship and boarded the
galley of a bold viking of the south whose name was Rudri Alpinson, or,
as the Scots called him, Roderic MacAlpin. On Roderic's galley was
Sigrid found; but she would not return, for she loved this man Roderic
passing well, knowing little of his evil heart. My lord, in trying to
win her back, was slain by Roderic's hand, and thereupon Roderic carried
away my child as his willing captive to his island home in Gigha. There
he made her his wedded wife. But not long had my lord been dead, not
long had his younger brother taken his place as ruler in our land, when
my heart so yearned for my fair Sigrid that I took ship and came south
in search of her. By chance I landed upon your father's isle of Bute,
for it was of Bute that Roderic had spoken as the home of his fathers.
"The ship that brought me hither was the ship of my brother, Rapp the
Icelander. Him I bade go over to Gigha and fulfil for me my vengeance
upon my enemy Roderic, and rescue my daughter. But the people secretly
told him that Roderic had been cruel to Sigrid, and that her love for
him had vanished as the morning mist. My child had lost her reason, and
in her mad despair she had gone out one day and cast herself from the
cliffs into the sea. Now Sigrid had left two children, and it was said
that they were unhappy. So Rapp, searching for them, with intent to
carry them off and bring them to me that I might be revenged upon their
father, found them one day playing in a great rock tunnel in Gigha."
"I know the place," said Kenric; "'twas there that Aasta --"
"'Twas there that Rapp the Icelander found Earl Roderic's bairns, and
from thence he carried them off. Those bairns, my lord, were Aasta the
Fair and the boy Lulach."
"Aasta? Lulach?" cried Kenric in astonishment, as he rose and began to
pace the rocky floor. "And they were brother and sister? And they were
the children of Roderic -- my own cousins? This is a strange thing that
you are telling me, Elspeth, and I can scarce believe it!"
"'Tis none the less true, my lord," said Elspeth.
"And Lulach -- it was then his own father who slew him! And it was her
own father whom Aasta fought against at Largs!"
"Even so. And pity 'tis that she did not kill him."
"Pity indeed," said Kenric. "And now you say that Roderic is in Bute?"
"He is here with intent to slay you, Earl Kenric, in some such subtle
way as he slew your good father. But I have told you where he will be at
midnight. Go thither, I charge you, and take the Thirsty Sword that
Aasta gave you. And may the blood of our enemy Roderic be the last that
it will drink."