“What mean you?  Who then was this youth?  Of what land was he, and what was his name?”

Elspeth paused and stepped nearer.

“His name, my lord, was Lulach, and he was the son of Roderic MacAlpin and Sigrid the Fair.”

“You lie, vile witch, you lie!” cried Roderic, recoiling as he heard her words, and pressing his hands to his brow.

“Not so,” said Elspeth, “the youth you then slew was indeed your own son.”

“God forgive me!” murmured Roderic, sinking to his seat and burying his shaggy head in his hands.  “Oh, Lulach, Lulach! my son, my son!”

“Well may you weep, my lord; but methinks your punishment is full well deserved.  Better had you obeyed our good abbot, and gone upon the holy pilgrimage; better still had you remained content upon your isle of Gigha, and never sought, in your ambition, to wrest from your brother Hamish the larger inheritance that you coveted.  But you slew our good Earl Hamish; you slew his son Alpin.  Blame now yourself alone in that your folly led you to slay also your own son Lulach.  ’Twas an evil game you played, my lord, and your punishment is just.”

“Taunt me no more,” said Roderic sullenly.  “Taunt me no more.  But tell me, if it indeed be that my boy is dead —­ my dear son Lulach, whom I might have loved all these years had I but known he could be found —­ tell me, when came he into Bute?”

“Long years ago, my lord, when he was but a child, and at the time when you were roving the seas in pursuit of Rapp the Icelander.  Had you, instead of following your life of plundering, but come as a friend and brother to Earl Hamish, it may be that you might have found your boy.  ’Twas not for me to seek you out, or to send Lulach to the home of a father who was no better than a murdering pirate.  The lad was happier where he was, even though he lived the life of a poor thrall.”

“Alas! so near, so very near!” murmured Roderic.  “And I believed that the kelpie had carried off my bairns, while all the time it was but a few brief miles of sea that divided us!

“My bairns?  Ay, there were two.  And the other —­ the girl —­ what of her?  What of my sweet, blue-eyed Aasta?”

“Aasta?  She, my lord, is still in life.”

“In Bute?”

“Ay, even in Bute.”

“God be thanked for that!” sighed Roderic.  “There is yet some happiness in store for me.  Where is she?  Where may I see her?”

“This very day may you see her, my lord.  Tonight the good abbot of St. Blane’s holds the festival of the New Year.  Aasta will be within the chapel.”

“Alas! but I cannot show my face in the company of men,” said Roderic.  “I am in hiding as an outlaw, and I am alone and ill-defended.”

“Be, then, upon the headland of Garroch at the midnight hour,” said Elspeth.  “Wait there, my lord, and I will send to you either Aasta herself or else a messenger who will tell you all you may wish to know.”