Chapter 22

On a certain morning in September, Aasta the Fair sat crouched at the door of the little cot wherein she dwelt. She was grinding oats in a small stone hand mill. Old Elspeth sat within doors spinning.

Presently Aasta raised her eyes and looked over towards the little isle of Inch Marnock, where on the green knolls some sheep were grazing. In the narrow channel that separates Inch Marnock from Bute she saw a tiny coracle with a man on board. The little boat drew to the beach of St. Ninian's Bay, where the man stepped out and began to run. Staggering in his gait, he fell; then rose again and again fell. Aasta, leaving her work, ran down towards the man, and when she got near him she saw that his clothes were torn, and his limbs bleeding from many wounds. He was lying on his back, groaning. She looked into his white face and saw that it was the face of the man whom Earl Kenric had left in Gigha as his steward and governor.

"What means all this, William MacAlpin?" asked Aasta, kneeling by his side; "and wherefore come you back to Bute thus covered with bleeding wounds?"

The man pointed westward, and with his dying breath said:

"Run you to Castle Rothesay, I beseech you; run and tell my lord Kenric that the Norsemen with their hosts have landed on Gigha, and have wrested the island from us. They tried to torture me to death, but I escaped to tell my master of this calamity --"

Then Aasta questioned him; but her words fell upon the ears of the dead; so she arose.

The swift-footed hart runs not more swiftly than Aasta ran that day across Bute. She found Kenric lounging on the little pier and throwing pebbles one by one into the green water. Near him were some fishermen unloading their herring boat.

"My lord," said she, scarcely showing by her easy breathing that she had run the distance of four miles -- "my lord, I have ill news to tell."

Kenric looked round at the tall fair maiden. She was radiant with the beauty of strength. Her long red hair streamed in the breeze, and her rosy cheeks glowed with the healthy blood that coursed under her smooth clear skin. Her eyes were limpid as the summer sky.

"What news may that be, Aasta?" asked the young king.

"It is," said she, "that your isle of Gigha has been invaded and conquered by the Norsemen, and that your kinsman William MacAlpin has but now given up his life in telling me the tale."

Kenric stood in troubled thought, a cloud upon his brow.

"Where is Lulach?" he presently asked.

"Over at Inch Marnock," she said, "and ill with his foot that he hurt in climbing the rocks two days since. He cannot walk but with pain, or I might have sent him to you."

"That is most unfortunate," said Kenric, "for saving Lulach and myself there is none in the island who can speak the Norse tongue. I would have sent him to Gigha to learn the truth of this you tell, and to discover if there be further danger."

"You forget, my lord, that it was I who taught Lulach the Norse tongue," said Aasta. "And cannot I do this mission as well as he? Give me your bidding, my lord, and though I die in fulfilling it, yet will I deem my life a small sacrifice if it be that I can serve you."

Then Kenric's eyes lighted up, and he looked admiringly upon the fearless girl.

"Aasta," said he, "I will take your service, and I will even go with you to Gigha this very day. Meet me at St. Ninian's two hours before sunset. Have ready a fishing coracle with some fish, and dress you as a fisher maid. These are my orders. Go."

At sunset that evening a little boat, paddled by a stalwart young man in the rough habit of a fisher, was crossing the waters of Loch Fyne.

He was singing a plaintive Gaelic song, and a fair maid, whose deep red hair was covered by a coarse blue cloak, joined in the wild strain with notes that were as the sweet song of the night bird of the far south. The youth was Earl Kenric of Bute; the maiden was Aasta the Fair.

Crossing from Ardlamont Point, they crept up the opposite shores of Kintyre until they came to a wide bay upon whose banks lies the little fishing village of Tarbert. In the growing darkness Kenric paddled the boat inward to the extreme end of this bay. Had he been in less hurry he might have reached the isle of Gigha by taking a larger craft and sailing down Kilbrannan Sound and so round the Mull of Kintyre, by the way he had gone with the galleys. But he now adopted a speedier way and a much safer one. The great peninsula of Kintyre, which at the north joins to Knapdale, forms at Tarbert a narrow isthmus of but a mile broad. Landing at the head of Tarbert Bay, Kenric bade Aasta carry the paddles and her basket of fish, and himself taking up the little boat in his two strong arms and raising it upon his back, he thus crossed the mile of dry land. The boat was but a light one, built of pine ribs and covered with hide, and his task was less difficult than it might seem.

In half-an-hour's time the two had arrived at another sheet of water which is called Loch Tarbert, and here launching the coracle again, they seated themselves and sailed down the narrow loch. It was now well upon midnight, and there was no moon; but there was little danger to be feared, unless, indeed, some of the Norse outposts might surprise them.

Kenric spoke little, for, in truth, he was yet doubtful of his companion, who might, he imagined, at any moment turn herself into the form of a wolf. But Aasta was very calm, and there was small need to doubt her, for Earl Kenric had done her a great service in setting her free from her thralldom, and she would have given her life for him at any moment.

When at last they emerged from the loch where it enters the open sea they paused a while by the shore to eat their bread cakes and drink the milk that Aasta had brought. They sat face to face. Once Kenric thought he saw the maid's eyes sparkle with a green flash of light and he drew back, though in sooth it was but the reflection of the planet Venus, shining in the clear mirror of her eyes.

The gentle rippling of the water against the boat alone disturbed the stillness. In that stillness Kenric looked fixedly at Aasta through the dim light. Aasta sank upon her knees, and obeying an impulse that was upon her she took his hands in her own and touched them with her warm lips.

Kenric felt a strange thrill of pity for this beautiful girl, so lonely was she, and so much despised of men, and in that moment he bent down and kissed her head. And at that the maid began to weep, and her hot tears fell upon his hands.

Neither spoke, but each felt that a new bond of sympathy had been formed between them. Presently Aasta rose to her seat, and Kenric took his paddle and drove the boat along into the deeper water.

Down the west coast of Kintyre they sailed until, out across the sea, they saw the light of a beacon fire shoot up upon the heights of Gigha. Outward then they steered until they came nigh upon the rocky shores of that island; and passing many little islets, they sailed between Gigha and the brownie-haunted island of Cara, just as the day was breaking in the east.

Here Aasta looked about her with strange bewilderment as though she were awaking from a dream. Kenric brought the boat inshore and took it through the long rock tunnel that he had seen many months before from the deck of his galley. The water was calm now and the tide high.

Aasta looked down into the clear depths where the long tangle of marine plants swayed with the motion of the light current. Upon the rocky bed below she saw many ruby-coloured sea anemones, with emerald mosses, and pearly shells, and silver-scaled fish. From the water she looked to the vaulted roof. Her eyes were restless with strange wonderment.

"My lord," she said at last, "what place is this that you have brought me to? And why seem these rocks so familiar to mine eyes? This clear green water -- the lofty vault of this cave, where the voice echoes in merry laughter! 'Tis passing strange! Methinks I must have seen them in some childish dream!"

But Kenric at that moment felt the boat grinding upon a sunken rock, and Aasta's question passed his notice.

Beyond the tunnel they searched for a safe landing place in one of the little bays. Aasta pointed to a high cliff that had many caverns hollowed out in its steep front, and she bade him steer into one of those caves. Kenric laughed and asked how she thought they could ever arrive upon the heights by that way. But when she suddenly put her finger to her lips, in token that she had heard voices upon the cliff, Kenric obeyed her and took the boat into the yawning cavern.

When they were far within Aasta said: "Heard you not voices up above us, my lord -- the voices of many men?"

"Even so," said Kenric. "But methinks it will go ill with us here if we be discovered by some passing boat. We should then be entrapped."

"Not so," said she. "Follow me and you shall see that we have chosen a better point of landing than you could have hoped for."

And stepping upon the rocks at the far end of the cave she led him up a flight of rocky steps until suddenly they saw the light of day. At once they emerged into a wide ravine that clove the cliffs and led upward to the grassy heights of the island. Then Aasta drew back and held Kenric so that he might go no farther, and she pointed across the ravine where a dip in the opposite headland revealed a wide and sheltered bay.

"Look, my lord," she whispered.

Kenric saw an unexpected sight, for in the waters of that bay there lay at anchor a hundred and fifty ships of war with the falcon flag of King Hakon flying at each masthead.

The sight of so vast an armament appalled him. How it happened that these foreign ships were riding at anchor off his own island was a thing that passed his comprehension.

Aasta was the first to break the silence of wonderment.

"My lord," said she, "there is more in this than the dying words of your kinsman William foretold. And right wise were you to bid me put on this fisher maid's disguise. Give me your dirk, Earl Kenric, lest I meet misfortune, and I will take my creel of fish and offer it for sale among the people. It may be that in speaking with the islanders I shall hear that which the mere sight of these ships cannot explain."

Then Kenric returned to the boat, bringing back the basket of fish, which he gave to Aasta together with his dirk.

"You will trust me, my lord?" she asked.

Kenric smiled. "To the end," said he. "But what is your plan, Aasta?"

"That you remain with the boat, my lord, while I journey to the village, wherever it may be found. Not long shall I be, and I beg you not to leave the cave till I return."

Taking the fish creel over her back she went away. Passing up the ravine and mounting to the heights, she had not gone far when she saw a party of warriors sitting round a camp fire. She went boldly towards them.

"So please you, my masters," she began in the Norse tongue, "I have brought you some good fresh fish if so be you would buy them from a poor body."

"Show us your fish, girl," said one of the men, rising. Then looking into the basket he added, "What want you for them?"

"Four cakes of bread," said she.

"Good," said the warrior. "Let us have them; for with so many mouths to fill all food is welcome."

Slowly Aasta took out the fish and laid them on the grass. Yet no man spoke. She touched the nearest man on the elbow.

"Lend me your knife, my master, that I may gut the fish," said she boldly.

The man took out his knife, and as he handed it to her she saw his face and recognized Earl Sweyn of Colonsay.

One by one she took up the fish and slowly trimmed them on a flat stone, waiting in the hope of hearing the warriors speak.

"When holds King Hakon his council?" one presently asked of another.

"Tonight -- on Rudri's return," was the reply.

"And where?"

"Why, here on the heath, after sundown," said another. "'Tis no time for delay. Bute and Arran have yet to be conquered ere we assail the mainland of Scotland."

"Ay," said the first speaker, "methinks there will be few Scots left in Bute for the next moon to smile upon. Bairns, women, and men, they all are doomed!"

Aasta now began to work quicker -- so quickly that in a very few minutes the fish were all ready for cooking. Then taking her four bread cakes she slung the basket over her head and sauntered away.

Suddenly she was conscious that someone was following her. Raising her wicker basket higher she half turned her head. Through the crevices of the basket she saw a youth with long flaxen hair. It was Harald of Islay. But soon he turned back, thinking no doubt that he had been mistaken in his recognition of the girl who had helped Allan Redmain to recapture him.

After an absence of less than two hours Aasta rejoined Kenric and told him all she had heard; and for the rest of that day the two remained in hiding, waiting until night should fall.

At last the dark night came. Kenric and Aasta, the one armed with his great sword, the other with her dirk, crept from their place of hiding and stole across the heath towards the campfire, round which a score of island kings were already gathered, awaiting the coming of King Hakon of Norway.

Within a hundred yards of the fire Kenric stopped and beckoned Aasta to go round the northern side, while he went the opposite way. This they did that they might discover by which approach they could best reach within hearing distance of the warriors. And they had arranged that the one who found a likely place should give signal to the other by means of the lapwing's cry.

Aasta had not well made the half circle when through the night air she heard faintly, as it were half a mile away, the cry, "Pee-wit! pee-weet!"

Quickly she returned and followed the way Kenric had gone. Soon she found herself under a high piece of ground that obscured the firelight. Then nearer to the fire she heard the cry repeated, and she replied with the same call. She went towards the fire until she saw Kenric standing on the top of a high rock, outlined against the glow of light. She knew him by his fisher's cloak. She saw him lie down flat and creep nearer and nearer to the edge of the rock.

Suddenly, between her and Kenric, she saw another figure appear and stealthily follow behind the young king with drawn sword.

Now Aasta had the faculty of being able to see in the darkness almost as well as in the daylight, and it took but a hurried glance to prove that he who followed Earl Kenric was none other than the fair-haired Harald.

Like the bird whose cry she had but lately imitated she ran along the ground, drawing her dirk as she ran, and just at the moment when Harald of Islay was preparing to smite Kenric a blow that would have killed him, Aasta threw her hand over the young viking's mouth, dragged him over, and then plunged her dagger into his heart.

So quickly did this happen that Kenric, intent upon seeing what was passing around the fire, was quite unconscious that Aasta had saved his life. And Aasta never afterwards told a living being of the thing that she had done.

Leaving the body of Harald where it had fallen she followed Kenric yet nearer to the brink of the rock, until together they lay so near to the band of Norsemen that they could see their white teeth glisten in the firelight as they spoke. The fire was built against the rock. The warriors sat about it in a half circle.

Presently the men all rose to their feet to greet the arrival of the Norwegian monarch. Kenric could now see faces that had been hidden before, and amongst them were those of Sweyn of Colonsay, Erland of Jura, and, to his surprise, even the renegade John of Islay. None of the others did he know; but there were Magnus king of Man, Sigurd king of Lewis, John of Kintyre, and Henry the bishop of Orkney, with many more of the most trusted of King Hakon's vassals.

Then came King Hakon himself, the tall, grim-visaged, despotic old monarch of the North, who, having reigned for six-and-forty years, had now determined to win for himself and his descendants the complete dominion over Scotland.

"And now, oh, noble lords and faithful friends," said he when they were all seated, "now that we are assured of the adherence of all these outer isles of Scotland, it remains for us to arrange by what means our further conquests are to be made. Our right trusty and noble Rudri is yet away. But on his great help we may confidently rely in whatsoever course we pursue. This alone does he ask, that the invasion of the isle of Bute shall be left entirely in his hands. We do therefore order that Rudri, with five stout ships, shall sail hence in two days' time and invade that island. Thence, with my lord Magnus of Man, he shall sail up the Clyde and lay waste whatever lands or castles may come in his path. Meanwhile Earl Margad shall invade Arran with five other ships. As to the rest, we shall remain in this isle of Gigha and complete our preparations for the final conquest of the mainland of Scotland. Say, now, my noble lords, does our plan meet with your favour?"

"It does, your Majesty!" they all replied.

Then Earl Sweyn the Silent opened his lips and spoke.

"Methinks," said he, "that as to the expedition against Bute, those who have most suffered by the atrocities committed by the young stripling lord of that isle should have the power to fulfil their own vengeance upon him. And I for one, your Majesty, will not rest content unless I be of those who are to invade his lands. With his own hand young Kenric of Bute slew a full score of the children of Colonsay, and in just revenge would I massacre with my own hands the children of Bute. No child shall escape our swords. We will slay every one, ay, even to the babe at the breast. We will raze every dwelling to the ground. And even their churches and their holy men shall not escape!"

On hearing these words Kenric waited not to learn more. He already knew enough, and his heart beat furiously in dread alarm. For a moment he felt impelled to take his sword and strike down the man who had last spoken; but the danger of revealing himself to those warriors was too great, and touching Aasta on the arm he drew her away.

Together they crept back to the ravine, found their difficult way into the cave, and regaining their boat returned to Bute by the same way that they had left it.

At daybreak on the following morning the fiery cross -- the Highlanders' summons to arms -- was sent round to every dwelling in Bute. Allan Redmain was despatched to Arran to warn Sir Piers de Currie. Other boatmen were sent on a like errand to Toward, Dunoon, Largs, and all other villages and castles upon the banks of the Clyde, while a special messenger was sent into Scotland to warn King Alexander.

For three days and nights there was not a man in Bute who was not occupied in some fashion in preparing to meet the expected enemy.