Alpin scowled as he again took his place before the judge, and then when silence had been restored he proceeded to state the whole case concerning the killing of his father.

By his side stood Kenric, who helped him when he faltered in his narrative.  The two brothers might almost have been mistaken for master and serf, so much did their appearance differ.  Kenric’s face was unwashed and streaked with the traces of tears.  His brown hair, lighter than Alpin’s, was rough and tangled, and now, as always, he wore no covering on his head.  His coarse buckskin coat looked mean beside the richer apparel of his brother, and his buskins were ill-tied and his kilt was dusty and tattered.  The elder brother was taller and more lithe of body; but Kenric’s bare arms and legs were thick and strong, and despite his coarse clothing he bore himself no less nobly upright than did Alpin.

“Roderic, son of Alpin, what have you to say in defence for this grave crime whereof you are accused?” asked Sir Oscar Redmain when Alpin had told his tale.

The two lads stepped back and Roderic took their place.  His long golden hair as the sunlight fell upon it shone scarcely less bright than the well-wrought dragon that twined its scaled form upon his burnished helm of brass.  He looked towards his judge with bold defiance in his blue eyes.

“What the boy says is true,” said he.  “I slew my brother Hamish.  I slew him upon his own hearth stone.  But it was in fair fight that I did it; and I call my two friends, the lords of Jura and Colonsay, to bear me out in the truth of what I say.”

There was a loud howl of rage from the crowd as he spoke these false words, and no one tried to stifle those outbursts of popular feeling.

“’Tis a lie you tell!” cried Kenric furiously as he pushed his brother aside and confronted Earl Roderic.  “You say it was in fair fight you smote my father his death blow.  Oh, perjured villain!  Where, then, was my father’s weapon?  Had he been armed with a knife such as the one you used, methinks you would not now be here to utter your false words.  Your own arms were left in the armoury hail, where ’twas right they should be; and you took up the knife from the board, knowing full well what you meant to do with it.  Oh, Roderic MacAlpin, may your tongue shrivel in your throat ere you utter such base and wicked lies again!  You came to this island, the land of your fathers, with the evil purpose of climbing over our dead bodies to the kingship that you covet —­”

Roderic bit his lips with rage and doubled his great fists as he stepped forward to smite young Kenric to the ground.  Kenric drew back.