CHAPTER XXIII. THE INVASION OF BUTE.

The awful words that he had heard spoken by Earl Sweyn of Colonsay impressed Kenric with a terrible fear, and his knowledge of the overwhelming force of ships and men at the command of the Norse king assured him that the threatened invasion of Bute was no idle boast. Not for his own castle of Rothesay did he fear, although he would defend his fortress to the end. The thought of the terrible vengeance that was about to fall upon Bute on account of the bad work of the wild Scots of Galloway was a matter for far graver consideration.

On his return from Gigha he passed many hours pacing the great hall of his castle, racking his brain to discover a means whereby he might protect the lives of the women and children who were under his care. He remembered how, on the day of his throning, those children had stood at the verge of the court to receive his blessing and to kiss his hand, and his heart bled at the thought that any of these little ones should be in danger.

At last, after much hard thinking, he put on his sword and ordered his pony to be bridled. Then he rode south to the abbey of St. Blane's. Calling to the good abbot he bade him open the chapel and let him enter. There the young king threw himself down before the altar and fervently prayed to God for help in his hour of need, asking for the power to save the children from the wrath of their enemies. And in the quiet of that holy place God's spirit entered into his heart and he felt strong.

So when he had finished his prayers the abbot, hearing him, said: "My son, have faith, and our Father will give you His help. And now, tell me, I beseech you, what means you foresee of saving our people from the swords of our enemies?"

And Kenric said: "Holy father, it is by your help that I hope to do this thing. This day will I send into your grange all the meal and flour that now lie in my granaries at Rothesay, and you shall store it away in secret places. Ere the sun sets this night every woman and bairn now alive in Bute shall be brought to the abbey, and they shall live here, guarded by a band of our best men-at-arms."

"But, my son," objected the abbot, "is not your own castle a far stronger and safer refuge?"

"It may well be that it is stronger, my father," said Kenric; "but since it is the first place that our enemies will make for, 'tis not more safe than the abbey, which would be the last place that Christian men would attack."

"You speak wisely there," said the father; "but still do I doubt your wisdom in seeking to gather so many women and children together in one defenceless place. How will it be if our enemies forget the sanctity of this refuge, and discovering our children assail them all in the mass? Better it were, methinks, to let each family remain in their own home, for thus distributed over the island some, if not all, must surely escape."

"Father," said Kenric, "it is not without reason that I propose this course, and the two years that I passed under the care of the holy brethren of the abbey gave me some teaching of a practical sort. Wist you not that under this very chapel there is a strong, large chamber? And wist you not also that connected with that chamber there is a long vault running a full four furlongs underground, even unto the inclosed space that the men of Bute name the Circle of Penance?"

"Even so, my lord," said the abbot; "and now do I well understand your plan. It is in that underground passage that you would have our helpless people take refuge. Send me, then, a score of your men to make timely preparation and I will gladly receive the innocents into my care. God grant that we may be able to protect them, even at the cost of our own lives."

"Amen," said Kenric, and then he rode away. Taking the green road that led westward, he stopped at every farmstead and cottage by the way and there bade all the women, from the aged crone to the young damsel, repair to the abbey of St. Blane's, taking with them all their children.

Soon he reached Kilmory Castle, where he had counsel with Sir Oscar and Allan Redmain concerning the protection of their fortress. It was probable that the enemy would land upon the western side of the island, but lest they should determine to make their first attack upon Rothesay it was deemed wise that Sir Oscar and Kenric should each defend his own castle, and that he who first descried the invaders from afar should send word of their approach to his neighbour.

Being assured that Kilmory was well guarded, and prepared to offer a strong resistance, Kenric asked to see Ailsa Redmain. Ailsa was in the fields.

"Ailsa," said he when he had found her, "you have heard of the great danger that threatens our island?"

"Who is there in all Bute that hath not already heard it, my lord?" said she. "Ah, would that I were a man that I might be of some service at this time!"

"It needs not that you should be a man, Ailsa, to be of very great service, and I will ask your help. You are no longer a child, and well do I know what wisdom there is in you. I would trust you in all things to act wisely."

Then dismounting and standing at her side he told her how the women and children were to be taken to St. Blane's.

"The Norsemen may arrive," he said, "even before another day be gone, and passing up Kilbrannan Sound they will doubtless make landing near your father's castle, where it were most unwise in you to remain. Go, therefore, to the abbey and make what womanly preparations may be needful. There will my mother join you. With her and you do I intrust the children of Bute, so that you may minister to their comforts until the danger be past. You shall not lack help, but 'tis well that there be some womanly authority whose word may be held as law in case of need. And now, Ailsa, since it may be that we shall never meet again in this world, fare you well!"

Then as he was about to remount he saw the tears gather in the girl's eyes, and he put his arms about her neck and drew her to him.

"Ailsa," he murmured, "never till this moment did I know how dear you are to me! But now when death faces me -- when another day may see me slain -- the thought of you, my playmate, my dear friend, my loved Ailsa, makes life on earth more precious. God watch between us in our danger. The holy Mother protect you, and on earth or in Heaven grant that we may meet again!"

Then holding her near him he touched her white brow with his lips and left her sadly.

Passing across the meadows of Kilmory he found Lulach the herd boy. Lulach was in great terror at knowing that the Norsemen were expected, for though he was himself by blood and nature a Norseman, and was wont to speak their tongue rather than the Gaelic, yet he looked upon the Scots as his friends and upon every Norseman as his enemy. He was not trained in the use of warlike weapons, and it seemed to Kenric that he would be of little use. But Kenric stationed him upon the heights and bade him keep constant watch upon the sea, ready to sound the alarm on the enemy's approach.

Night and day did the lad stand upon those heights overlooking Kilbrannan Sound, and on the third day he saw appearing a squadron of six ships with many gay flags flying and the armour of countless warriors glinting in the sunlight. The largest of the galleys sailed in advance, bearing the viking's flag, and having an array of knights and soldiers upon her decks and many archers at her prow.

Lulach ran in terror to Kilmory Castle, and straightway Sir Oscar Redmain prepared to meet the coming foe.

Lulach was then to have hastened to St. Blane's; but he thought he had yet time to run down and warn old Elspeth Blackfell, who had steadfastly refused to take the protection offered her in the chapel vaults, saying that she had a safe refuge of her own -- though where that refuge was none sought to know. Lulach followed her down to the little point of land that juts out into St. Ninian's Bay.

Now it chanced that it was in that same bay that the invaders landed, and before Lulach could escape, the first ship was close upon the shore.

The first man to spring into the water and wade to land was the great pirate Rudri. Seeing Elspeth standing near, leaning upon her long staff, he accosted her.

"What, ho! thou witch of Satan!" he cried in thundering voice. "Speak, crone, your life is yours if you but tell me truly, by your sooth, the thing that I shall ask."

"Thou godless man, stand back!" cried Elspeth, seeing him draw his sword as though to slay her.

"Nay, tell me of your sooth -- for I do believe you are a very witch -- tell me, what shall the issue of this invasion be? Speak, thou vile hag! lest I release your black soul over soon!"

Elspeth stretched out her shrivelled arms and dropped her staff. Then she turned to the pirate and answered him. Her voice came hard and shrill from between her withered lips.

"Since thou wouldst know," she said, "the things that shall be, hear this, oh Rudri, that he shall be defeated upon whose side the first blood drop is spilled!"

A heavy silence fell after her words. It was broken by a loud laugh from the pirate's deep throat.

"Be it as thou wilt," he cried.

But Elspeth in that moment snatched a dagger from her girdle, and gathering her strength she made a lunge with it at the man's broad chest. The weapon turned upon the strong armour that he wore, and, unhurt, he caught her by the wrist, raising his sword.

Now Elspeth had spoken in the Danish, and the chieftain, remembering her words of prophecy, and, it may be, thinking that she was of the Norse folk, lowered his weapon and flung the old woman away from him. Then seeing Lulach limping away, and taking him to be a Scot, he ran after the lad, eager that the first blood should be that of one born in Bute. Catching Lulach by the long hair he speedily slew him.

"'Tis done!" said Rudri when he saw that the lad was dead. "And now have we forestalled our enemies and assured to ourselves the victory.

"On, on, my men!" he cried, turning to his followers. "The first blood of our enemies hath been spilled! On! on! the victory is sure!"

One by one the ships dropped anchor in the bay, and from each there poured a vast number of warriors carrying bows and battle-axes, swords and spears. Behind their leaders, the terrible Rudri and the king of Man, they marched upward to the castle of Kilmory.

"Spare not!" cried Rudri, flourishing his sword.

"Death to the traitor of Bute, the slayer of our children!" cried Sweyn of Colonsay.

"On, on, men of Jura!" croaked Erland the Old.

"Down with the Scots!" thundered Magnus of Man.

From the topmost towers of his castle Sir Oscar Redmain watched the hosts advance. Nearer and yet nearer they came.

"Steady, my lads, and take good aim," he said coolly as he fixed an arrow to his bowstring. "Now!" he cried, and as the enemy came within bow shot a shower of well-aimed arrows met them, and many men fell. The shields of their companions bristled with the arrows whose flight they had stopped. But the long-haired warriors pressed on to the castle gates, behind which stood Allan Redmain with half the garrison at his back.

From the hilltop of Barone, Aasta the Fair had watched the ships approaching from afar, and at the moment of first seeing them she clashed a flint and steel and promptly lighted a bundle of dry twigs and straw. The signal fire was seen from Rothesay, and at once Earl Kenric, at the head of five score of men, marched across the island towards Kilmory. But so quickly had the invaders landed, so speedily had they stormed the stronghold, that ere Kenric and his followers appeared upon the heights, the castle of Kilmory was in flames.

The Norsemen, taking their machines to the rear, had stormed the building at its weakest point. The heavy missiles from their shot wagons soon succeeded in making a breach. Then a detachment of Rudri's men brought sheaves of new-cut corn and bundles of hay from the stackyard, and flinging them within the breach set them in flames. The stout walls of oak very soon caught fire, and Sir Oscar Redmain and his archers on the towers speedily found themselves inclosed in clouds of smoke. Their cries as they ran down the inner stairs and discovered the awful fate that awaited them were terrible to hear.

From the rear of the castle the Norsemen brought round their machines to the gates, and with their heavy battering rams they burst in the strong doors. Some of Allan Redmain's men rushed out, only to be cut down by the warriors who awaited them. Twice did Allan call to his guards to follow him and cut their way through the barrier of swords and spears, and twice were they driven back into the burning castle. A third attempt was made. Allan valiantly encountered his foes, who now gave way, for at that moment they were attacked in their rear by the men of Rothesay.

In the ranks of the Norsemen, Kenric espied Earl Sweyn of Colonsay.

"Traitor! slayer of my people's children!" cried Sweyn, pressing forward. "Let me at you that I may smite you to the earth!"

Kenric stood on guard. Sweyn raised his heavy battle-axe; but, before he could strike, Kenric so wounded him on the shoulder that he dropped his weapon. Then a crowd of men pressing in between, separated them.

For an hour's time the skirmish continued, Kenric and Allan Redmain fighting side by side. But meanwhile the Norse leader, Rudri, had called off the larger number of his men to the ships, leaving but a few score behind under Sweyn of Colonsay and another.

In the thick of the fight Duncan Graham sought his master's side.

"Back, back, my lord!" he cried, "Back to the castle of Rothesay! The ships have already left the bay. In two hours' time they will be round at Rothesay!"

Kenric then rallied his men and charged his foes most vigorously, and those who were not cut down took to flight. Earl Sweyn, retreating towards the hill of Quien with two score of his followers took ambush until the men of Rothesay had left Kilmory. Then, full of angry vengeance and intent upon slaughter, he led his small troop northward. Every cottage and farmstead that he could find he entered. But not in one of them did he discover man, woman, or child. The men were all under arms. The women and children were all in the safe refuge of the vaults of St. Blane's.

Allan Redmain, finding that it was vain to attempt to save his father's castle, remained for a time upon the scene of ruin and devastation. His father, Sir Oscar, had been slain by an arrow, and his body was devoured by the flames. When Allan had tended the wounded, both foes and friends, he took six of his best men-at-arms with him, and by devious ways marched south to St. Blane's, there to remain on guard with three hundred others, whom Kenric had stationed at various points in the vicinity of the abbey.