The Thirsty Sword | Page 2

at the murder of her mate and little one.
"And now," said Kenric, "I must hie me back to St. Blane's, for our good Abbot Godfrey bade me be with him ere nightfall. Where is your brother Allan? Say, was he of those who went with my father and Alpin to the punting in Glen More this forenoon?"
But Ailsa was again weeping over the fate of her water ouzels and did not answer him.
Ailsa was some two years younger than himself. They had been companions from the time of their infancy. Her father, Sir Oscar Redmain, of Kilmory Castle, was the steward of Earl Hamish of Bute, and Ailsa was even as a sister to the two lads of Rothesay Castle. With Kenric, the younger of the earl's sons, she had been taught what little there was to be learned in those rude times, under Godfrey Thurstan, the Abbot of St. Blane's, a wise and holy man who, next to Earl Hamish himself, was held in the highest honour of all men in Bute.
Now, just as Kenric, unable to soothe Ailsa, was turning to leave her, a shadow passed between him and the evening sunlight, and at the head of the bank there walked an aged woman, bearing upon her bent back a bundle of faggots. Ailsa raised her blue eyes, and at sight of the old woman shrank back and felt in her dark hair for the sprig of feathery rowan leaves that she wore there as a charm against witchcraft.
"Give you good e'en, my lord of Bute," said the old woman, seeing Kenric and dropping her bundle on the ground.
At these strange words Kenric's cheeks grew crimson.
"I am no lord, Elspeth Blackfell," said he, going nearer and trying to fathom her meaning in her wrinkled and grimy face, "and I know no reason for your calling me by that high name."
"Not yet," said the old crone, "not yet. But by my sooth, the time will surely come, and that full speedily, when all shall hail you lord of Bute."
"I seek no sooth from such as you," said Kenric frowning; "and you shall win naught from me by your false flatteries."
Just then he felt the hand of Ailsa drawing him back as though to keep him from the blighting touch of the old woman's bony fingers.
"Go not so near to her!" whispered the girl, making the sign of the cross. "Let her not touch you with her evil hands, lest she put her enchantments upon you."
Old Elspeth smiled grimly, and showed the one lonely tooth that was in the front of her shrunken gums.
"Heed not the child's silly fears," said she to Kenric, "and tell me, for what cause has she been weeping?"
"It was a stoat that harried an ouzel's nest and slew the birds," replied Kenric.
"Bairns weep at trifles," said Elspeth; "what matters the death of a little bird? The stoat must live by the food that the great God gives it, and the birds must die when their time comes. 'Tis alike with all God's creatures upon earth. Even the castle of Rothesay is no more free at this moment from its secret enemy than is the smallest wildfowl's nest."
"The castle of Rothesay?" repeated Kenric. "Set me none of your riddles, Elspeth, for they are harder to read even than the abbot's missals. What is your meaning? My father has not an enemy in all the isles. Who, then, would do him an injury?"
"Speed you home to Rothesay and see with your own eyes," said Elspeth, taking up her bundle of faggots again; "Earl Hamish of Bute is in great danger, I say. Go to him now, I charge you, and give him my warning against the enemy who is within his gates."
And at that she hobbled away down the hillside towards the little wooden hut that was her home. As she went the red sun sank behind the dark hills of Kintyre. Kenric stood in doubt.
"I marvel that you will dare to hold speech with that evil hag," said Ailsa. "'Tis our own good fortune if she have not already cast her eldritch spells upon us both."
"Nay, Ailsa; fear her not. She is but a poor harmless body," said Kenric. "Only the witless carls and cottar folk are so simple as to believe that she has aught of evil in her words."
"Ah, but I well know that Elspeth is a witch," declared Ailsa. "Never do I see her but I must shrink away and cross myself in dread of her. Why do all the brave men of Bute fear her more than they would fear a band of armed Norsemen? She casts her spells upon our kine so that they give no milk, and upon the fountains so that the clear drinking water is turned rank and