“So please you, my masters,” she began in the Norse tongue, “I have brought you some good fresh fish if so be you would buy them from a poor body.”

“Show us your fish, girl,” said one of the men, rising.  Then looking into the basket he added, “What want you for them?”

“Four cakes of bread,” said she.

“Good,” said the warrior.  “Let us have them; for with so many mouths to fill all food is welcome.”

Slowly Aasta took out the fish and laid them on the grass.  Yet no man spoke.  She touched the nearest man on the elbow.

“Lend me your knife, my master, that I may gut the fish,” said she boldly.

The man took out his knife, and as he handed it to her she saw his face and recognized Earl Sweyn of Colonsay.

One by one she took up the fish and slowly trimmed them on a flat stone, waiting in the hope of hearing the warriors speak.

“When holds King Hakon his council?” one presently asked of another.

“Tonight —­ on Rudri’s return,” was the reply.

“And where?”

“Why, here on the heath, after sundown,” said another. “’Tis no time for delay.  Bute and Arran have yet to be conquered ere we assail the mainland of Scotland.”

“Ay,” said the first speaker, “methinks there will be few Scots left in Bute for the next moon to smile upon.  Bairns, women, and men, they all are doomed!”

Aasta now began to work quicker —­ so quickly that in a very few minutes the fish were all ready for cooking.  Then taking her four bread cakes she slung the basket over her head and sauntered away.

Suddenly she was conscious that someone was following her.  Raising her wicker basket higher she half turned her head.  Through the crevices of the basket she saw a youth with long flaxen hair.  It was Harald of Islay.  But soon he turned back, thinking no doubt that he had been mistaken in his recognition of the girl who had helped Allan Redmain to recapture him.

After an absence of less than two hours Aasta rejoined Kenric and told him all she had heard; and for the rest of that day the two remained in hiding, waiting until night should fall.

At last the dark night came.  Kenric and Aasta, the one armed with his great sword, the other with her dirk, crept from their place of hiding and stole across the heath towards the campfire, round which a score of island kings were already gathered, awaiting the coming of King Hakon of Norway.

Within a hundred yards of the fire Kenric stopped and beckoned Aasta to go round the northern side, while he went the opposite way.  This they did that they might discover by which approach they could best reach within hearing distance of the warriors.  And they had arranged that the one who found a likely place should give signal to the other by means of the lapwing’s cry.

Aasta had not well made the half circle when through the night air she heard faintly, as it were half a mile away, the cry, “Pee-wit! pee-weet!”