He stood still a moment and beheld his weapon with a sorrowful heart.  There was a deep groan of anguish from the crowd, and Kenric, seeing the peril in which his brother was placed, would have rushed forward to Alpin’s help had not Duncan Graham held him back, fearing that he too might find himself in Earl Roderic’s power.  Then Allan Redmain was about to run in to Alpin’s aid, but his father caught his arm and bade him stand back.

“How now?” cried Roderic.  “Now have I got you at an advantage as you had me yesternight.  But it shall never be said that Roderic of Gigha would meanly slay any man who was weaponless.  And therefore take up your sword, Earl Alpin, and let us make an end of this battle.”

Roderic then drew back that Alpin might without hindrance take up his sword.  Then into Roderic’s eyes there came a look of fixed fury, and in that look Alpin read his doom.

Again they took their ground, and this time neither seemed so eager to spring at the other.  But at last young Alpin leapt wildly at his foe, with his sword upraised in the grip of his two hands.  Down came his weapon with a mighty swing, and all thought surely that blow would be Roderic’s end.  But Roderic sprang lightly aside, so that the young man’s aim was spent upon the soft ground.  Roderic’s sword flashed in a circle above his crested helm.  There was a dull crunching sound, and then a deep groan.

Kenric promptly rushed to his brother’s side and tried to raise him from the ground.  But the sword of Roderic of Gigha had done its work.  Earl Alpin was dead.

Then the men of Bute, seeing what had befallen their young king, raised a wailing cry that rent the sunny air, and they closed in their ranks around their fallen chief.

Earl Roderic looked but for a moment at Alpin, and then swinging his bloodstained sword from right to left he passed through the crowd of men.  For the islanders, having just left the court of the mooting, were none of them armed.  So when Roderic made his way into their midst they fell back beyond the range of his swinging blade.

They saw that he was making his way towards the shores of the lake, which was but a few paces from where the battle had been fought.  Many of them picked up great stones and flung them after him and struck him on the back.

“Down with the base traitor!” they cried.

But he little heeded either their missiles or their menacing cries.  On he sped until his feet were ankle deep in the mere.  Then he turned round for a moment and saw young Kenric, armed with his brother’s sword, with Sir Oscar Redmain, Allan, Duncan Graham, and many others pursuing him.

He sent up a hollow mocking laugh as he lightly sheathed his sword.  Then he waded farther into the loch and threw himself into the deeper waters, so that only his glancing helm could be seen above the surface.  As the antlered stag, pursued by men and hounds, swims swiftly over the mountain tarn to the safety of crag and fell, so swam Earl Roderic before the fury of the men of Bute.  And none dared follow him, for it is said that that loch is deeper than the hills are high.