“Enough!” cried the captain sternly, “and now for your reward.”

Then turning to one of the men who had brought in the captive, he added: 

“Hundi, this man is a traitor, and as a traitor he must now be served.  You will therefore conduct him to the topmost towers of the castle, and taking the rope that now binds him, you will tie a shipman’s noose about his neck and let him hang in mid-air, that the carrion crows may taste the flesh of one of the meanest cowards in the isles.”

Then, as the farmer was taken away to his death, Thorolf the captain paced the floor moodily, speaking not a word.

“What said this man, Thorolf?” asked one of his comrades.  “Come, tell us where we may find these people.”

“That will I tell to no man!” said Thorolf firmly, “and as I am captain here, these are my orders:  that if any man seek to discover where these families are now harboured, or if any man does aught to further molest the people of Bute, he may expect a reward equal to that of the traitor who has now gone to meet his deserved death.  There are ropes in Rothesay for all who dare to disobey me!”

“Coward!” muttered one of the men of Colonsay, rising and passing out of the hall, “think you that you alone could understand that man?  I heard his answer, and by my sword, I mean to act upon it;” and thereupon they all stood up and followed, taking their arms and leaving Thorolf alone beside the fire.

Later on that evening, when Sir Piers de Currie with the friars of St. Blane’s were sitting quiet in the abbey refectory, when the Lady Adela and the mothers of Bute were busy putting the little ones to sleep, Earl Kenric was walking to and fro in front of the gate of the Circle of Penance.  He carried his naked sword in his arms, and he wore the heavy chain armour that had not been put aside for four long days.  He was very weary, for he had had a long day’s fighting, and no sleep had he known since the night of his adventure in Gigha.

He was thinking now of all that had passed, and of the many men, his companions and faithful vassals, who now lay dead.  Also he was wondering what had become of the wild girl Aasta.  She had done many things for which he owed her deep gratitude.  Not only had she given him the great sword of Somerled, with which he had done so much in defence of his people; but it was she who had warned him of the coming of the enemy; it was she who had gone over with him to Gigha, and made it possible for him to learn the plans of the Norsemen. (She had there saved his life, though Kenric knew it not.) It was she who had told him that the great pirate Rudri was his own evil uncle Roderic.  He was accordingly much concerned for her safety, and much troubled in his fear of what had happened to her.

Suddenly, in the midst of his musing, someone passed him like a rush of wind.  In the dim evening light he saw Ailsa Redmain.

“Ailsa!” he cried, “where go you?  Why do you thus come out here where you know full well that none but men may come?”