“Wait, my lord,” said she, holding him back.  “Methinks you do not know this Rudri.  But Elspeth Blackfell took little time to discover that much.  The man Rudri is none other than he who so basely slew your father and overcame my lord Alpin in combat.  Rudri the Rover is none other than Roderic MacAlpin!”

Kenric drew back amazed.  “Roderic MacAlpin!” he exclaimed.  “The saints protect us!  Ah, simpleton that I have been to have faith that that villain ever meant to keep to his vows!  And this is how he went on the pilgrimage! and all these months, while we have fondly believed that he was serving the Cross, he has but been serving his own ambitious ends!  It was he, then, who led the Norsemen to Gigha!  It was he who besought King Hakon to let him make the invasion of Bute, that he might murder our children and lay waste our lands —­ that he might claim the dominion he covets!  But by my father’s soul he shall yet fail!”

Then Kenric unsheathed his sword, and solemnly swore upon the cross of its hilt that never should that weapon leave him until either himself or Roderic the Outlaw lay dead.

The story of Roderic since the time of his quitting the isle of Bute may soon be told.

Scarce had he passed the rock of Ailsa Craig ere he had resolved to break his vows of penance and go his own chosen ways.  Sailing southward in the English salt ship, he was still upon familiar waters.  He lay quiet for three days, recovering from his wounds; then, when the vessel was abreast of the Isle of Man, he forcibly took the helm, and drawing his sword, threatened the life of any man who dared approach him, and he steered the ship into the haven of Peeltown.  There he landed among the descendants of the Norse King Orry, and seeking out his friend Magnus, who was the lord and monarch of that land, with him he lived for many months, until on a time there came a message from Hakon of Norway, bidding King Magnus set forth with his ships of war to the Western Isles.  When the Manx ships joined Hakon’s navy at Skye, Roderic the Rover was welcomed above all other chiefs, and he offered that the isle of Gigha should be made the headquarters of the forces, from which they might easily swoop down upon Bute and Arran, and thence invade the mainland of Scotland.

“Methinks, my lord,” said old Dovenald, as he stood with Kenric and Aasta, “that this outlaw will not now be satisfied until he bath compassed your death.  Forget not, I implore you, that you alone stand between him and his ambitions.  It would go ill with us all if he should succeed, and methinks ’twere well that you took timely refuge where he could not find you.”

“My lord,” said Aasta, “what Dovenald says is but wisdom; and now, if you would take safe hiding, I know of a little cave above the shores of Ascog Bay wherein you might be secure from all discovery.”

“What? and would you counsel me to shrink from meeting this man?  No, no, my friends.  I am no craven, and it is not thus that I will desert my post.  Here do I stand to defend our stronghold; and while I have a drop of blood in my body so long will I fight.”