down
among the Western Isles, and harried and wasted those lands farther than
any Norwegian monarch before him or after him. So it befell that the
Western Isles, that had belonged to the Scots, were peopled and ruled
over by the Norsemen."

Kenric listened to the girl's soft voice as it rippled in sweet music,
but he heeded little this oft-told tale.

"Now there arose a great man in Argyll, who was mightier than any of the
Scots that had so lightly allowed their lands to be torn away from them,
and this was king Somerled. He waged war against the Norsemen of the
Western Isles, and he made conquest of Bute, Arran, and Gigha, with the
Cumbraes and other smaller isles that still remain in the hands of the
Scots, for he was a most powerful warrior, and it was said that no man
ever crossed swords with him but to be slain. His enemies fell before
him like ripe grain in the swath of the mower's sickle. And his sword --"

"Yes, his sword?" said Kenric, growing interested now.

"His sword had drunk so often and so fully of men's blood, that it
seemed to take new life into itself out of the hearts of all who fell
before its sway, and men named it the Thirsty Sword, for it is never
satisfied. It was said beforetime that if a sword be the death of five
score of men, it comes to be possessed of a lust for slaying. But the
sword of Somerled had drunk the life's blood of twice five score of men,
and none might take it in his grasp and lay it down again ere it had
killed a man."

"Such a weapon were surely a great danger in the land, Aasta," said
Kenric. "I would not willingly touch it if any but my enemies were near.
But by reason of the desire for vengeance that is now upon me, gladly
would I know where that sword is to be found, that it may be ready when
the time comes to drink the blood of the falsest heart that ever beat,
and that is the heart of Earl Roderic of Gigha."

"Then, methinks it will not be long ere you have that weapon in your
hand, my lord," said Aasta, quickening her steps. "For it befell that I
had a dream vision, and I saw where long ago the men of Bute had buried
the sword, swathed in sheepskins that the blade might not be eaten by
rust. So I unearthed it, and hid it under the Rock of Solitude, where we
shall now find it."

Kenric and Aasta went onward through the forest glades, and when they
came to the rock Aasta put her white arm into a deep cavity, and drew
forth a bundle of sheepskins. Unwrapping the