CHAPTER XXVIII. AASTA'S SECRET MISSION.

Since the invasion of Bute, when Elspeth Blackfell's cottage had been laid in ruins, Aasta the Fair had taken up her abode with the old woman in a little cave that may still be seen opening out upon the wooded heights above Ascog Bay.

On an evening in late December the maiden sat in this cave. Her fair head, with its long flowing hair, was resting in her hands, and her deep blue eyes were fixed upon the glow of a peat fire that burned in the middle of the chamber, and reflected its warm light upon the deerskin curtain at the entrance. From without came the soughing of a bitter east wind that blew in biting gusts across the Clyde.

The three months that had passed since the battle of Largs had brought but little joy into Aasta's lonely heart. The destruction of the castle of Kilmory, and the coming of winter, had deprived her of her daily occupations upon the farm lands, and her work would not be renewed until Allan Redmain had rebuilt his castle and spring had softened the frozen fields. The frosts and snows had brought many hardships; food was scarce, and life in that rocky cave had few comforts. More than all, Duncan Graham, whom she had hoped to wed, was dead -- slain in battle by the sword of the outlaw Roderic. Aasta almost felt that she had rather have been slain at her lover's side than live longer without him in a world that offered her so little joy.

But in her despair for herself she yet was comforted by the knowledge that the Earl Kenric had been spared to his people, and that the Norsemen had finally left him in possession of his castle and lands. It was of Kenric that she was now thinking as she sat before the fire. Ever since that night in September, when she had journeyed with him to Gigha, she had felt a strange, close sympathy with him, an affection for him that was stronger than any other feeling she had ever known. Kenric's peaceful happiness was the one thing that she yearned for.

But now, when she had thought such happiness was surely before him, an unexpected danger had suddenly arisen. Roderic the Rover was still alive. The battle which had brought about the death of so many of his companions had spared him. The raging elements that had destroyed so many of the ships had left Roderic's galley unharmed. He had voyaged into the far north with the defeated King Hakon, and after Hakon's death he had returned to Gigha. On any day he might be expected again in Bute.

Aasta had just heard this unwelcome news from a fisherman who had come ashore at Ascog, and she was questioning in her mind how she might profit by the occasion and, unknown to Kenric, go secretly over to Gigha and compass the death of this powerful enemy of Bute. She hated Earl Roderic as the cushat hates the nighthawk, and if by some subtle means she could bring him to his death, then might she deem herself fortunate indeed, and her own life not wholly thrown away by a sacrifice that would be the means of ensuring lasting happiness to the lord of Bute.

A new light beamed in her large eyes as she determined at all hazards to attempt this thing.

Presently she rose from her little wooden stool and took down a heavy cloak that she threw about her shoulders. Then from under a sheepskin mat she drew forth a long sharp dirk, which she placed in her leathern belt. She went further into the cave and put some bread cakes into her wallet. Then drawing aside a curtain that shut off a side chamber in the rocky walls, she held up a lighted cruse lamp and looked for a few silent moments upon the sleeping form of Elspeth Blackfell.

"Fare you well, Elspeth," she murmured softly. "It may be that I shall never see you again -- no, never again. But God will reward you for the great goodness you have shown to your poor Aasta. Fare you well."

As she sighed and dropped the curtain she turned to leave the cave, and there crept towards her the gaunt form of a great dog wolf, upon whose breast there was a patch of pure white hair. The animal lazily stretched himself and yawned, showing his long red tongue and his white fangs. Aasta bent down and patted his shaggy coat.

"No, Lufa, it is alone I go. Get back to your corner," she said coaxingly.

The animal turned tail, and with the obedience of a tame dog went back into the darkness and lay down on his mat of sheepskin, while Aasta, drawing her cloak about her, slipped silently out into the clear twilight and faced the keen east wind.

Turning along a narrow path that led upward to the head of the bank, she followed the course of a little stream whose pure water was now turned into icy crystals. As she gained the level height the wind blew her hair about her pale and beautiful face. She drew her hood over her head and turned inland. To the south the giant fells of Arran, shrouded in snow, stood out white and distinct against a steel-blue sky, with the wan moon above them. But the ground that Aasta trod was bare and hard, and the drifted snow lay only in the deeper hollows crisp as ice. She crossed the Great Plain beside the Seat of Law, until she came to the wooded shores of Loch Ascog. She observed that the ruffled water of the little lake was of a deep blue, and she thought of the weird belief of that time which held that those waters claimed once every year a new victim, and that they only assumed that dark-blue colour in token of a coming death.

She looked upon Ascog Mere with a superstitious dread, for the people of Bute believed that it was a place of punishment for unhappy spirits, who might often be heard wailing in the dismal morass about its margin. She heard such a wailing even now, though perhaps it was but the whistling of the wintry wind among the frozen reeds, or the tinkling of the ice that was gathering in a film at the water's verge.

Hastening her steps, she sought the shelter of the tall fir trees, and made her way to the southern point of the lake that she might reach the western shores of the island, and so take a fisher's boat across to Gigha by the same easy course that Kenric had taken with her three months before. The journey must now be taken alone, for she meant that the vengeful work she contemplated should be secret, and that Earl Kenric should be rid of his dangerous enemy without knowing by whom or by what means Roderic had been slain.

Scarcely had Aasta emerged from among the trees and crossed towards the lake when she heard the beating of footsteps upon the hard ground. She stood still and listened. Nearer and nearer the footsteps advanced, and presently at the top of a bald knoll in front of her there appeared the tall figure of a man. He was covered by a seaman's great cloak, which he held partly over his face to shield him from the cutting wind. He came rapidly towards her, and when they were but a few paces apart he drew back his cloak, revealing his long red beard.

"Roderic of Gigha!" cried Aasta recoiling a step and feeling for her dirk, as she recognized the man she had set out to slay.

"Ay, Roderic it is," said he smiling grimly. "And methinks, fair damsel, that you are the very same who so cunningly escaped from my ship over at Arrochar -- the same also who fought so bravely against me at Largs. By the saints, my pretty one, but you are a most courageous maiden; much do I admire you, and fain would I know you better.

"Nay, be not afraid of me," he added as he saw her draw back from him, "I will not hurt you.

"What wicked schemes, my lord, have brought you yet again to Bute?" asked Aasta, making pretence to be very calm, and thinking that by seeming to yield to his humour she might be the better able presently to use her dirk.

"If you must know," said he as he stepped aside to the leeward of a great rock, "I come hither to see the old witch Elspeth Blackfell, to reproach her for her false prophecy. Where lives the old hag these wintry days?"

"In the cave of Ascog, if you know that place," said Aasta, promptly deciding how she might entrap him there, and knowing full well that the wolf Lufa would be a sufficient protection for Elspeth.

"I know it well," said Roderic, "and there will I go. And now, how fares the young lord of Bute since he has lost his castles and lands?"

"My lord Kenric's castles and lands are in no wise lost to him," said Aasta more boldly.

"How so? Not lost?" cried Roderic in surprise. "Where, then, is Thorolf Sigurdson, whom I left as warden over my isle of Bute?"

"Thorolf Sigurdson, Heaven bless his honest heart! has gone home these many weeks past to Benbecula, and taken his cowardly Norsemen with him."

"The traitor!" gasped Roderic. "And is the young Kenric again in possession of my castle of Rothesay?"

"The castle of Rothesay was never yours, Earl Roderic, and never shall be," returned Aasta firmly. "His Majesty of Scots hath given us full protection, and for you to seek to remove Earl Kenric from his rightful lordship were vain. If you value your life, my lord, go not near to Rothesay."

"Your warnings are useless, bold maiden," said Roderic with a sneer. "To Rothesay I will surely go, and Kenric, were he the strongest man in all the isles, shall not prevent me from taking my own. I have sworn to bring that whelp to his death, and by St. Olaf he shall die this very night!"

Aasta drew nearer until she stood close enough to touch him. The light of the moon shone upon her beautiful face, and Roderic, standing with his back against the rock, thought that surely she was the fairest woman his eyes had ever beheld.

"My lord," said she softly, as though she meant to help him to his coveted power, "if this be indeed your intention, methinks 'twere well that you should first reckon with me."

Her right hand now grasped the haft of her dirk, her left hand was ready to fly at the man's bare throat.

"Haply I am but a weak woman; yet a woman can ofttimes do that which men would shrink from."

"Even so," said he calmly. "And now if you would but help me in this project, I swear to you that I will love you always, and when I am in possession of my lands and castles, I will even make you my wedded wife, and you shall be right happy."

"Villain!" cried Aasta. Then she flung back her cloak and sprang upon him, seizing his throat and raising her knife to strike it to his heart.

Roderic saw her eyes flash like two fierce fires. He saw her weapon gleaming in the moon's pale light. With a wild cry of rage he caught her uplifted arm and arrested it.

"Deceitful witch," he cried, "is it thus that you would help me?"

"Even so," said Aasta the Fair. "For now your last hour has come. No mercy will I show you, base villain that you are!"

And then they struggled together in each other's arms, swaying and panting, gripping and twisting, like two furious animals. Aasta held him firmly with her left hand, burying her strong fingers in his thick throat. But at last he freed himself and forced her back. Then with fierce anger he caught her up in his arms and raised her from her feet, and carried her away.

Thereupon Aasta gave forth a loud and piercing cry that sounded far away in the keen winter air.

That cry was heard at the farther side of Loch Ascog, where, in the dingle of Lochly, Allan Redmain was walking northward towards Rothesay. Allan thought at first that it was the cry of some imprisoned spirit in the mere; but again he heard it, and no longer doubted that it was a woman's voice calling for help. He ran back to the southern point of the lake, and searched in the growing darkness for a sign that might tell him what had happened. Nothing could he see but the bare bleak land with its patches of frozen snow, the dark trees waving in the wind, and the still blue surface of the mere where the frost was swiftly congealing the water into transparent ice. And then he thought that his ears had deceived him.

He went onward to Rothesay over the ever-hardening land. The frost bit sharply. Every stream of water shrank into itself in firm clear ice and grew silent. Allan was full-blooded in his strong manhood, but when he reached the castle gates his fingers, toes, and ears were numb with the intense cold.

Before the blazing fire in the great hall he found Kenric with the Lady Adela and his own sister Ailsa.

Another also was there whose presence made Allan forget the cold. This other was sweet Margery de Currie, the eldest daughter of brave Sir Piers. She blushed as Allan entered, and made room beside her for him to sit down. She took his hands in hers and chafed them into warmth, at which the Lady Adela smiled approval, thinking how brave a pair they made.

Presently the servitors entered and made ready the evening meal. Allan rose and drew Kenric aside.

"Over at Kilmory two hours ago," said he, "I learned bad news, my lord."

"What news is that, Sir Allan?" asked Kenric. "Is it that your builders refuse to work in this cold weather? What matters it? Have you not a good home here, where you can see your lady love every day? Have patience, Allan; Margery will wait, and you will be wedded when the springtime comes, and when your castle will be better fitted to receive you --"

"Nay, Kenric, 'tis not such matters as these that trouble me," said Allan gravely. "The news I speak of is that the rascal Roderic the Outlaw, has, as I believe, returned to Gigha."

"Roderic in Gigha!" cried Kenric in alarm. "Alas! and I thought him dead. Who told you this thing?"

"A fisherman of Gigha," said Allan. "But I understood him ill. Methinks we had better inquire of the maid Aasta the Fair, for the fisher spoke with her, and well I wot he told her all."

"Doubtless," said Kenric. "And on the morrow I will even seek Aasta and learn from her if this be true. It may be that there still is work for my sword to perform. Well is it that I have not already fulfilled my intention of casting the brave weapon into the sea."