“’Tis none the less true, my lord,” said Elspeth.

“And Lulach —­ it was then his own father who slew him!  And it was her own father whom Aasta fought against at Largs!”

“Even so.  And pity ’tis that she did not kill him.”

“Pity indeed,” said Kenric.  “And now you say that Roderic is in Bute?”

“He is here with intent to slay you, Earl Kenric, in some such subtle way as he slew your good father.  But I have told you where he will be at midnight.  Go thither, I charge you, and take the Thirsty Sword that Aasta gave you.  And may the blood of our enemy Roderic be the last that it will drink.”

CHAPTER XXX.  THE BLACK FROST ON ASCOG MERE.

Kenric took old Elspeth back with him to Rothesay, and there, as she would not agree to take up her quarters within the castle, he gave her a little cottage, bidding her remain there in comfort for the rest of her days.  As to Aasta the Fair, he had no doubt in his mind that on being told that she was his own cousin, she would yield to him when he asked her to make the castle of Rothesay her home, and he at once besought his mother to make preparations to receive her.

Late in the evening, the moon being at the full, Allan and Ailsa Redmain, with Margery de Currie, set out, attended by two armed guards, for the chapel of St. Blane’s, where midnight mass was to be celebrated for the dying year.

Kenric, less cheerful than his three companions, went with them but a little distance.  Leaving them to continue their way through the dingle of Lochly, he branched off eastward towards Ascog.  He wended his way across the bare hard land, walking with rapid strides, for the night was bitterly cold, and the wintry wind made his cheeks tingle as he bent before it.  Under his sheepskin cloak that he held close about his body, he carried his terrible sword.

He kept to the leeward shelter of the rising ground, but at times he was obliged to cross the ridges of the bare hills, and there the wind, sweeping over the wide moonlit firth, was like the cutting of knife blades upon his face.  His breath, that gathered as dew upon the down of his upper lip, was turned to beads of ice.  The streams and pools of water had shrunk into solid icy masses, and the earth was unyielding as granite rocks.

Still keeping to the uplands, he at length entered into the woods of Ascog, and walked among the dark trees until he stood above the steep path leading downward to Elspeth’s cave.  He descended by the slippery ground, holding on by the dry tree branches.

At the mouth of the cave he stood awhile, stamping his feet that he might be heard.  But there was no response.  He drew aside the stiff hide curtain and looked within.  All was black, cold desolation.

“Aasta?  Aasta?” he called.  But no voice answered him.