foretold that it would be so."

Not long had the people waited when they saw a stately company of
men-at-arms advancing, and at their head rode Kenric, mounted on a white
charger. Not now did he appear in the lowly garments of deerskin or with
ill-strung buskins or tangled hair. He wore a helm of burnished brass,
crested with a pair of golden wings; his well-combed brown hair
fluttered in the breeze. Thrown over his shoulder, and half concealing
his bright shirt of scale mail, was a plaid of silk. There were silver
buckles on his tanned shoes, and below his bare knees his legs were
swathed in fine lawn, cross-gartered with red silk bands.

A great cheer rose in the calm air and echoed and re-echoed far away
among the crags of Loch Striven as Kenric sprang lightly from his steed.
The crowd opened a place for him, crying "All hail to Kenric!" and he
took his stand in their midst at the eastern side of the court. No
farther did he venture, but stood there with bent head and sober,
sunburnt face, resting his left hand upon his sword.

Then when the abbot had spoken a few holy words, Sir Oscar Redmain
raised his voice and told what they had all come for to that place, and
he asked the counsellors to name the man whom they would choose for
their lord.

"Kenric, son of Hamish!" they all cried.

Kenric then stepped forward as though he were unwilling thus to be made
ruler over the people of Bute, for the high honour had come suddenly
upon him and he had never dreamed of being king, but only a faithful
priest of St. Blane's, serving the Lord and His people.