nour so embarrassed the youth that when her Majesty asked
him questions concerning his mother he could scarcely utter a word, but
stuttered woefully.

Daughter of Henry the Third of England, and sister of Prince Edward --
who afterwards gave such trouble to the realm of Scotland -- Queen
Margaret was at this time but one-and-twenty years of age. She was
bright eyed and well featured, with a clear fresh complexion, and her
every movement was of stately grace. She smiled upon Kenric with her
sweet rosy lips, and bade him sit near her and tell her how his mother,
accustomed to the life of the English court, contrived to live happily
in so wild and dull a place as the little island of Bute. But Kenric in
replying noticed only the coronet of pearls that the queen wore in her
glossy hair, the surpassing whiteness of her neck and hands, and the
rich splendour of her purple velvet gown.

Meanwhile the king had received Sir Piers de Currie.

"This young lord of Bute pleases us well, Ranza," said King Alexander,
addressing the knight by the name of his castle; "and we doubt not that
he will prove even as stalwart an adherent as his father, though,
indeed, we had been better pleased had he been somewhat older. Take him
under your care, Ranza, so that he may acquire some of your own skill at
arms."

"Methinks, sire," said Sir Piers, "that there is little need of that,
for since the death of Alpin, the lad's brother, there is none whom I
could teach less to than young Kenric. A little more weight and
strength, it may be, might serve him well. God alone can give him those.
But of skill he requires no more than myself."

"Such praise from you is a recommendation that any man in Scotland might
be proud of, Sir Piers," said the King. "But there is one thing more.
Know you if the lad speaks the tongue of these Norse varlets of the isles?"

"Not speaking it myself, your Majesty, I am but a poor one to question
on that matter."

The King then called Kenric to his side, and bade the young page Harald
address him in his native tongue. At this the flaxen-haired lad leapt
towards Kenric with glistening eyes.

"My good friend," said he in Norse, "be not alarmed at what I shall say.
The King knows not a word of our tongue. Tell me, is it to set me free
that you come hither? Do you come from my father?"

"Your father?" said Kenric. "I know not who your father may be. Methinks
you make some strange mistake!"

"Alas!" said the lad, cres