He went inside the cave and felt about for the place where he had seen Elspeth leave the flint and steel.  He lighted a rush candle and looked about him.  Everything was as he had left it a few hours before.  Aasta had not returned.  He found, here a little cap, made of gay feathers and squirrel fur, that Aasta was wont to wear; and there a necklace of bright-hued seashells.  In a corner there was a pair of small slippers, trimmed with odd bits of coloured silk, and lined with white hare skin, and beside them a girdle of crimson leather.

He looked upon these objects with strange reverence, but did not dare to touch them.

Then he went to the cave’s entrance and stood with his shoulder leaning against the rock, and looking dreamily across the Clyde towards Largs.  It was still two hours before midnight, and believing that he was soon to encounter his enemy Roderic in a hand-to-hand combat, he felt a gloomy, melancholy spirit come upon him.  If Roderic should overcome him in the fight, how would it be with the people of Bute?  They would never be happy under the tyrannical rule of the bold sea rover.  What would become of his mother?  She would have to leave the castle of Rothesay, and perhaps return, desolate and alone, to England.  Sir Allan Redmain, who was now the steward of Bute, would never bend before the man who had brought so much misfortune upon the island.  And Aasta, what of her?  Would she, who had nursed a hatred against Roderic more bitter even than Kenric’s, would she ever recognize this man as her father, however kind he might be to her?  No, no.  Kenric knew not a man or woman in all the land who would welcome his uncle as their king.  No evil could befall them greater than this.

But if Roderic should fall in the fight, there might follow many, many years of peace and happiness in Bute.  Kenric pictured what that happiness might be.  He pictured his people living in safe prosperity, with thriving commerce and fruitful farms; himself ruling, with what wisdom or justice he possessed, over a contented and law-abiding people —­ his mother living to a ripe and happy old age in Rothesay Castle.  Sir Allan Redmain, his trusty steward and loved friend, would be wedded to Margery de Currie.  Aasta would be happy too; he would love her always as his very dear cousin, and who could tell but that some day, when all her past troubles were forgotten, she might marry some great and good nobleman of Scotland, who would restore her to such dignity as she deserved?

There was another of whom, deep in his heart, Kenric thought very tenderly, and that other was Ailsa Redmain.  Both he and she were yet young to think of such matters, but he loved her right well, and in a few years’ time he might even follow the example of her brother Allan and take unto himself a wife.  And if Ailsa would yield to him —­ But he checked himself in his dreams.  All this possible good fortune must depend upon the issue of his encounter with Roderic.