Duncan Graham the seneschal and his guards of the castle had already gone amongst these onlookers to see that no man carried weapons, for it was held in strict custom that none should bear arms or make disturbance at such a time on pain of life and limb.

These hardy islanders, as they stood in silence, were a rugged set of men, with sunburnt faces and bushy beards.  Many of them were clothed in garments of sheepskin, others of a better condition wore a plaid or mantle of frieze.  They had buskins made of rawhide, and a knitted bonnet, though many of them wore no covering for their heads but their own shaggy hair tied back with a leathern strap.

The assize being sworn and admitted the abbot stepped forward and called upon the God of the Christians to punish the peace breaker.  Then the crowd opened and young Alpin came in, stalwart, handsome, noble, and bowed before the judge.

He wore a mantle of tartan, clasped at the shoulder by a silver buckle.  His legs were swathed in fine cloth and cross-gartered below the bare knees, and his feet were encased in brogues with silver clasps.  His long hair was well combed, and it hung about his broad shoulders in dark brown locks.  A deep hum of praise rose in greeting from many throats as he stood in the light of the noonday sun.

“Hail to Earl Alpin, king of Bute!” cried one.

“Long life to the king!” cried another; and the cries were taken up by the whole assembly, dying away in echoes among the far-off hills.

Then Alpin raised his hand and asked that the chain of silence should be shaken; and when one of the guards had shaken the rattling chains and all were listening with bated breath he took up and made his plea, demanding prompt justice on the slayer of his father.

“And whom do you charge with this foul crime?” asked Sir Oscar Redmain, though indeed none needed to be told.

“I charge Roderic MacAlpin, king of Gigha,” said Alpin, and at that there was a great yell of execration.

“Down with the traitor!  Death to him!” was the cry as the crowd opened.

And Alpin turning round saw Duncan Graham —­ taller by a head than the tallest man there present —­ leading in the criminal, followed by his two companions of Colonsay and Jura.

In a moment Alpin sprang forward at his enemy.  He raised his right hand and all saw that he held the bloodstained knife.

“Die, slayer of the just!” he cried, bringing down the weapon upon Roderic’s breast.

But Roderic of Gigha laughed a mocking laugh, and catching Alpin by the wrist he threw him backward.  Duncan Graham broke his fall and tore the weapon from his grasp.

“Oh, foolish lad!” he murmured, “to attempt such a thing within the very fences of the court!”

“Alpin of Bute,” said the judge gravely as he rose from his seat, “you have done that which no other man in this land might do without the severest punishment.  You are here to plead the cause of justice, and not to insult those whom you have summoned to this place to do justice for you.  Bear yourself discreetly, or resign your cause into the hands of those who can control their wrath.”