His companion of the flaxen hair fixed his blue eyes
upon the doorway, nervously expectant.
"Ah, my young Harald," said the King in Gaelic. "So, then, you heard the
name of Bute, eh? Are you already weary of courtly life that you so
prick up your ears at the name of an island?"
The youth blushed and looked ashamed, but still furtively watched the
door as it was reopened to admit Earl Kenric. Sir Piers de Currie
entering with him, remained within the doorway until the king should be
ready to receive him.
Kenric was attired in the same fashion as on the day of his throning,
but that he now wore no covering upon his head. He advanced towards the
king, and prostrated himself humbly before him.
"God be your guard, my lord the king," he murmured in that pure English
that his mother had taught him, and raising himself on one knee he took
King Alexander's hand in his own and pressed it to his lips.
"I, your Majesty's humble vassal of Bute," he continued, "Kenric by
name, and son of your Majesty's loyal subject, the late Earl Hamish, do
now come to pay your Majesty dutiful homage for the lands I hold of the
Scottish crown; and on your royal hand I swear to maintain fidelity to
your Majesty as my liege lord and sovereign, and not to enter into any
league with the enemies of Scotland, saving only in the case of unjust
oppression.
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