One day in September he was out with a hawking party upon the lands
which, fifty years afterwards, became known to the world as the field of
Bannockburn, when suddenly a most beautiful maiden with blood-red hair
threw herself before his horse.
"May it please your Majesty," said she, "to hear your servant's petition?"
"Who, then, are you, my pretty maid?" said the King.
"I am a maid of Bute, your Majesty, and a faithful vassal of my lord
Earl Kenric of that isle. And I have come to tell you that the Norsemen
have landed on your shores. They have taken our castle of Rothesay. They
have harried your lands of Lennox. They are approaching upon Stirling.
And oh, your Majesty, of your mercy I implore you to give speedy succour
to your injured subjects by driving this enemy from our midst!"
"How came you here?" asked the King.
"I was carried off as a prisoner from Rothesay by the tyrant Roderic of
Gigha, who hath been sent by King Hakon to lay waste the shores of the
Clyde. He carried me as far as Loch Long in his ship. But there I
escaped and found my way hither to inform your Majesty of these disasters."
"Roderic of Gigha?" echoed the King. "So, ho, and 'tis he who hath taken
Bute? By St. Andrew, but he shall not long enjoy his conquests.
"My lords," he added turning to his companions, "methinks the maid
speaks truth.
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