They ate their meal in silence, each eyeing the other with suspicious glances of mutual hatred.  Not until he had appeased his hunger did Roderic say more than a few casual words.  Elspeth felt herself in his power, for she was alone, a frail and weaponless old woman against a strong healthy man, whose sword might at any moment be flashed forth to her destruction.  She waited, anxiously hoping that Aasta would soon return with the wolf.

“And now, Elspeth Blackfell,” said he at last, as he tossed his empty bowl into a corner, “you would know my reason for coming back to Bute, eh?  Need you ask it?  It is, in the first place, that I may bring my bold nephew Kenric to his account.  I am, as you know, a poor defeated warrior.  I am tired of battling; I would rest myself awhile.  My late sovereign King Hakon of Norway is dead.  To Alexander of Scots must I now turn for protection.  ’Tis true he has made me an outlaw; but what of that?  Bute is mine, Gigha is mine, and Alexander can ill afford to keep me his enemy.  I will turn young Kenric from my lands which he usurps, and I doubt not all will yet go well with me.”

“Methinks,” said Elspeth, “that you will find it no easy matter to turn my lord Kenric from his seat, for Alexander loves him right well, and has assured him of his fullest protection.”

“I care not that much for Alexander or Kenric,” said Roderic, snapping his fingers.  “Think you that I mean to wander about, a homeless vagabond, as I have wandered these few weeks past?  Not so; Kenric shall die, and by fair means or foul I shall take his place.”

Roderic here stood up to his full height and faced the old woman.

“And now, as to my second motive in returning hither,” said he; “it is to have some words with you —­a y, you, Elspeth Blackfell —­ concerning the false prophecy you made me.  When, as I landed over at St. Ninian’s three moons ago, with my gallant warriors, I besought you in your witchery to tell me the true issue of our invasion, you told me —­ false-tongued hag that you are —­ that if the first blood that was drawn should be that of a man of Bute, then my Norsemen should be victorious; and if it was that of a Norseman, then the Scots should win the fight.  And I believed you.  Now it was a lad of Bute that gave the first blood, and yet the Scots are free and the Norsemen are utterly defeated.  Explain me this, thou harridan.”

“My lord,” said Elspeth, rising and putting the fire between them, “listen to me.  What I said at that time may indeed seem passing strange.  But though I claim no power, as you mistakenly think, to see into the future, yet nevertheless the words I spake have come true.”

“True?  How so?” cried he, handling his sword.

“The youth you slew, my lord Roderic, was not of Bute,” said Elspeth with a trembling voice.  “Ah! you look with surprise!  But wait.  You knew not what you did; you knew not who it was that you so wantonly slew.”