Kenric took old Elspeth back with him to Rothesay, and there, as she
would not agree to take up her quarters within the castle, he gave her a
little cottage, bidding her remain there in comfort for the rest of her
days. As to Aasta the Fair, he had no doubt in his mind that on being
told that she was his own cousin, she would yield to him when he asked
her to make the castle of Rothesay her home, and he at once besought his
mother to make preparations to receive her.
Late in the evening, the moon being at the full, Allan and Ailsa
Redmain, with Margery de Currie, set out, attended by two armed guards,
for the chapel of St. Blane's, where midnight mass was to be celebrated
for the dying year.
Kenric, less cheerful than his three companions, went with them but a
little distance. Leaving them to continue their way through the dingle
of Lochly, he branched off eastward towards Ascog. He wended his way
across the bare hard land, walking with rapid strides, for the night was
bitterly cold, and the wintry wind made his cheeks tingle as he bent
before it. Under his sheepskin cloak that he held close about his body,
he carried his terrible sword.
He kept to the leeward shelter of the rising ground, but at times he was
obliged to cross the ridges of the bare hills, and there the wind,
sweeping over the wide moonlit firth, was like the cutting of knife
blades upon his face. His breath, that gathered as dew upon the down of
his upper lip, was turned to beads of ice. The streams and pools of
water had shrunk into solid icy masses, and the earth was unyielding as
granite rocks.
Still keeping to the uplands, he at length entered into the woods of
Ascog, and walked among the dark trees until he stood above the steep
path leading downward to Elspeth's cave. He descended by the slippery
ground, holding on by the dry tree branches.
At the mouth of the cave he stood awhile, stamping his feet that he
might be heard. But there was no response. He drew aside the stiff hide
curtain and looked within. All was black, cold desolation.
"Aasta? Aasta?" he called. But no voice answered him.
He went inside the cave and felt about for the place where he had seen
Elspeth leave the flint and steel. He lighted a rush candle and looked
about him. Everything was as he had left it a few hours before. Aasta
had not returned. He found, here a little cap, made of gay feathers and
squirrel fur, that Aasta was wont to wear; and there a necklace of
bright-hued seashells. In a corner there was a pair of small slippers,
trimmed with odd bits of coloured silk, and lined with white hare skin,
and beside them a girdle of crimson leather.
He looked upon these objects with strange reverence, but did not dare to
touch them.
Then he went to the cave's entrance and stood with his shoulder leaning
against the rock, and looking dreamily across the Clyde towards Largs.
It was still two hours before midnight, and believing that he was soon
to encounter his enemy Roderic in a hand-to-hand combat, he felt a
gloomy, melancholy spirit come upon him. If Roderic should overcome him
in the fight, how would it be with the people of Bute? They would never
be happy under the tyrannical rule of the bold sea rover. What would
become of his mother? She would have to leave the castle of Rothesay,
and perhaps return, desolate and alone, to England. Sir Allan Redmain,
who was now the steward of Bute, would never bend before the man who had
brought so much misfortune upon the island. And Aasta, what of her?
Would she, who had nursed a hatred against Roderic more bitter even than
Kenric's, would she ever recognize this man as her father, however kind
he might be to her? No, no. Kenric knew not a man or woman in all the
land who would welcome his uncle as their king. No evil could befall
them greater than this.
But if Roderic should fall in the fight, there might follow many, many
years of peace and happiness in Bute. Kenric pictured what that
happiness might be. He pictured his people living in safe prosperity,
with thriving commerce and fruitful farms; himself ruling, with what
wisdom or justice he possessed, over a contented and law-abiding people
-- his mother living to a ripe and happy old age in Rothesay Castle. Sir
Allan Redmain, his trusty steward and loved friend, would be wedded to
Margery de Currie. Aasta would be happy too; he would love her always as
his very dear cousin, and who could tell but that some day, when all her
past troubles were forgotten, she might marry some great and good
nobleman of Scotland, who would restore her to such dignity as she deserved?
There was another of whom, deep in his heart, Kenric thought very
tenderly, and that other was Ailsa Redmain. Both he and she were yet
young to think of such matters, but he loved her right well, and in a
few years' time he might even follow the example of her brother Allan
and take unto himself a wife. And if Ailsa would yield to him -- But he
checked himself in his dreams. All this possible good fortune must
depend upon the issue of his encounter with Roderic.
Standing there at the mouth of the cave, he felt the sharp frost
penetrating his limbs, and he turned away.
Regaining the higher ground he began to run, and soon his feet grew
warm. Slackening his pace, he walked down towards Ascog Loch, listening
the while for the sounds of Aasta's footsteps. Elspeth had told him that
the maiden would surely return to the cave two hours before midnight.
But she had not come. Had some disaster overtaken her? Whither had she gone?
The story that Elspeth Blackfell had told him had sunk deep in his mind.
It explained many things that had before been mysteries to him. He saw
in it an explanation of why he had been drawn in affection towards
Aasta, and why, in spite of her having been a bondmaid, he had
recognized that she was of gentle blood. He was glad that he had given
her freedom from her thralldom. And now he thought of how she had
bestowed upon him the great sword of his noble ancestor, and reflected
that king Somerled was in truth Aasta's ancestor no less than his own.
How sweet it was to think of the journey he had gone with her over to
Gigha, the home from which as a child she had been carried off with
Lulach! It was easy now to understand how she had recognized that rock
tunnel through which the little coracle had been paddled. Aasta had
thought that she had but seen the place in a dream vision, but haply she
had many a time played among those rocky caverns in her infant days.
And now he was going forth with intent to kill Aasta's father, believing
that to be the only means by which Aasta's happiness and the welfare of
his people of Bute and Gigha could be secured. Aasta herself had tried
to slay this man; she had fought with him upon the ships at the siege of
Rothesay; she had engaged with him hand to hand in the battle of Largs.
She did not then know that Roderic was her own parent; but Roderic had
done nothing that could have power to change his daughter's hatred into
love, and even if she were now restored to him, would she ever forgive
him the injuries he had done?
Kenric turned this question over in his mind, wondering if Aasta would
blame him if it should be that he brought her father to his death
without first allowing her to speak with him, and for this reason he was
ill at ease. But Aasta was nowhere to be found, and Kenric well
understood what ills might follow if he missed this chance that Elspeth
Blackfell had afforded him of encountering his dread foe.
He was presently upon the shore of Ascog Mere, whose surface was now
frozen over with thick clear ice. The black frost of the past night and
day had taken into its firm grip the waters of every lake and torrent in
the island. Even the distant murmur of the waterfalls of Arran was
hushed into silence now, and all around was deathly still. The wind had
sunk into a whisper and the few fleecy white clouds up above glided like
ghosts across the deep-blue sky. High over the snowy peaks of the Arran
mountains the full moon shone like a great silver shield and cast its
radiance upon the glassy surface of the lake. The wintry night was
almost as light as day, and every rock and tree stood out distinct and
black.
Kenric left the uneven ground and stepped upon the thick strong ice,
which was so clear at the edge that he could even see the shadowy reeds
below. He walked outward with steady steps, and bent his course
southward in the shimmering track of the moon's light. The lake was very
deep, but Kenric had no fear, for the ice was many inches thick and his
foothold was sure.
As he reached the middle of the lake, where no sound came to him but the
regular tread of his soft hide shoes and the tinkling ring of the ice, a
feeling of awe came over him. He solemnly remembered that it was the
last hour of the passing year -- it might also be his last hour upon
earth. He was not afraid; but the deadly silence, the wan light of the
moon, the piercing cold, his lonely situation upon that shining stretch
of ice, and his knowledge that he would soon be engaged in a mortal
combat, whose results must determine so much for himself and for his
people, oppressed his mind very strangely; nor could he dismiss from his
thoughts the surprising things that he had heard that day concerning
Aasta the Fair.
Suddenly, as he looked before him towards the shore that he was
approaching, he was startled at seeing a black shadow upon the ice. It
was as though some human being were lying there. He saw the figure move.
Slowly, stealthily it crept towards him. Kenric stood still, taking off
his fur gauntlets and putting his hand to his sword. Then the figure
crept more rapidly. Nearer and yet nearer it came. He saw now that it
was a large animal. Its glistening eyes and long legs showed that it was
a wolf.
He drew his sword and went to meet it. The wolf growled as in hungry
anger, and crouched down as though preparing to spring upon him. Kenric
raised his sword to strike, the wolf bounded forward, and as his weapon
was about to descend upon its head the animal swerved. The moon's light
revealed a white patch of hair upon its breast.
Kenric staggered backward, unwilling now to strike.
"Aasta!" he cried. "Aasta? The werewolf?"
At the same moment he loosed his grip of the sword, and the weapon,
impelled by the force his arm had given it, flew from his hand, and
falling upon the slippery ice skated along for many yards, making a
noise like the chirping of a vast flock of finches.
Kenric stepped back yet further and stood ready to meet the wolf, and,
if need were, grapple with it. But the animal, startled at the sound
made by the sliding sword, ran off towards the shore and quickly
disappeared among the shadows of the trees.
What was the meaning of that wolf being there upon the ice? Kenric stood
in confused wonderment. And if, as he half supposed, this white-breasted
animal was not as other wolves, which fear to tread on ice -- if it was
in very truth the werewolf form which the wild Aasta had power to
assume, why had she not recognized him? Why had she run away? Was it
that she had now taken to the cover of the woods, that she might
presently reappear in her own maidenly figure? There was something in
all this that passed his understanding.
He followed a few paces in the direction taken by the wolf, then,
remembering his sword, he turned aside. He looked about upon the clear
icy surface for his weapon. The force that his arm had given it had sent
it far away towards the margin of the mere, to the same spot, indeed,
where the werewolf had first been seen. At last he saw the shining blade
lying in the midst of the line of light shed by the bright moon upon the
polished ice.
He went towards it and bent down to pick it up. The ice where it lay was
smooth and transparent as a sheet of glass, and it seemed to Kenric as
he bent over it that he saw in it the reflection of his own face. So
distinct were the features that he recoiled in sudden alarm. Then he
fell down upon his knees, resting upon his outstretched hands. He fixed
his astonished eyes upon the face in the ice. A wild cry escaped him.
The face was not his own!
Drawing back for a moment he looked once more at the strange image. The
rounded cheeks were white as snow; the eyes were motionless and glassy;
the beautiful bloodless lips, slightly parted, revealed a row of pearly
teeth. It was the face of Aasta the Fair.
Kenric tried to touch her, to take her in his arms. But the intervening
ice inclosed her as in a crystal casket. He saw that the stray locks of
her long hair, floating in the clear water, had been caught by the quick
frost, and that they were now held within the firm thick ice. Upon her
fair white throat there were marks as of a man's rough fingers. She held
her right hand upon her breast, and in its grasp there was a long sharp
dirk.
Kenric rose and stood looking down upon the beautiful form of the dead
girl. He was as one who had been stunned by a terrible blow. For many
minutes he stood there mute and motionless, with folded hands and bowed
head. Soon a snowy cloud passed before the moon and cast a dark shadow
upon the ice. The imprisoned image seemed to melt away. Yet Kenric knew
that what he had seen was no illusion, but that Aasta the Fair lay
lifeless in her frost-bound tomb.
Then Kenric thought of his enemy -- who was surely Aasta's enemy even
more than his own -- and he gripped his sword.
"I will come back," he murmured sadly as he cast once more a lingering
glance upon the now indistinct figure beneath the ice. "I will come
back, Aasta. And now, a truce to all fear. Let me now meet this man and
slay him, for there is no one who can now mourn for his death. It is
right that he should die, for the hour of retribution has surely come!"