This stranger horseman was Thorolf the captain, who had followed his rebel guards with intent to intercept them.

“Young man,” said he to Kenric, “I know not who you are, but by the circle of dead men now lying about you, and by the prowess whereby you have saved the lives of these three children, I judge that you can be none other than the young king of Bute.”

“That, sir, is so,” said Kenric, wiping his sword upon a mossy stone and sheathing it.  “And who are you, my master?”

“The captain of these rebel scoundrels —­ Thorolf Sigurdson of Benbecula,” said the warrior, uncovering his head of ruddy curls.  “I have been left warden of the castle of Rothesay by Rudri Alpinson; and now do I swear on mine honour, my lord, that this matter that hath just befallen is none of my doings, for I would fain have prevented it.  But ’tis but an hour ago that one of your islanders was brought in a prisoner to Rothesay, and it was he who betrayed the harbourage of your people.”

“Who was that man?” asked Kenric with wrathful voice.

“His name, my lord, was David Blair.  He is now, for his betrayal, dangling at a rope’s end from the western tower of Rothesay Castle.”

“Well have you served him,” said Kenric; “and now for your courtesy I thank you, Thorolf Sigurdson.”

Then Kenric bade Ailsa Redmain return with the two children to the abbey.

“And now,” he added, turning to the captain, “since you are here I would beseech you to grant me a few days’ truce, that we may have time to bury our dead.”

“For the matter of that,” said Thorolf, “I would willingly extend the truce until the return of Rudri.  For there are, if I mistake not, many matters to attend to beyond the burial of the slain.  The men of Colonsay, as I hear, have played sad havoc with your homesteads, and it were well that these were put again into decent repair.”

“Your terms are more favourable than I had hoped for,” said Kenric, “and I well see that you are a man of honour.”

“My lord,” said Thorolf, “much do I commend and admire you for what you have done in protecting your islanders.  That protection, I do assure you, was much needed, for had your people remained in their homes not one of them would now have been alive.  But I swear that they are henceforth safe from all further peril.  And now, for my own curiosity alone, I would ask you how it happened that you were so timely warned of the danger that threatened you, my lord?”

Kenric told how William MacAlpin had come to Bute, and how he himself had spied upon the council of King Hakon in Gigha.

“Ah, then, ’twas you who slew the young son of John of Islay?” cried Thorolf, though not in anger.  “The lad was found dead on the very rock you speak of.”

“Not so,” said Kenric; “I slew him not.  And ’tis now for the first time I hear that he is dead.”

“But you had companions?”