"It was your own brother Alpin who is dead, my lord," said David Blair.
"What! and you would have me punish one who so defended my own brother?" cried Kenric. "No, David Blair, I cannot do it."
But at that the farmer protested warmly, and declared that he would have justice done him, and that it was his lord's duty to deal fairly by all men, notwithstanding that Allan Redmain was the son of the steward. So there was nothing for it but for Kenric to pronounce the penalty.
"It is an old law, held sacred by custom," he falteringly said, "that if one slays another man's watchdog, the slayer must himself protect for a year and a day the unwatched homestead. And he is accountable to the owner for any scathe that may befall within that period after the slaying of the dog. This, Allan Redmain, is the penalty you must pay, and less than this it is not in my power to impose, for law is law, and I am but its instrument."
Then after the assize was over, Allan went to Kenric and asked him what was now to be done concerning their projected journey into Scotland, for that now he was condemned to act for twelve long months as a miserable watchdog, it was no longer possible for him to leave the island, and be absent for a night.
The same difficulty had already presented itself to Kenric, who felt indeed that he would rather have cut off his own hand than pass that sentence upon his friend. He looked at Allan with pleading eyes.
"Allan," he said, "how can you forgive me for this that I have done? And how can I now help you out of this miserable dog's work? Methinks that on the cold frosty nights when you are out there, minding this churlish farmer's sheep, it will not be easily that I shall lie in my warm bed. But how to help it, I do not know. Haply the law was made for vagabond thieves and cattle lifters, but it still is law, and in my place I could not well evade the judgment."
"Think not that I blame you, my lord," said Allan cheerily. "I am not the steward's son without knowing somewhat of a judge's difficulties in punishing his own friends. But, alas! I had set my heart upon being your attendant on this journey of homage."
"As to that," said Kenric, "you need not concern yourself. I will not break my promise to take you. As to Blair's flocks and his good wife's chickens, we can send the lad Lulach to watch them, and I warrant me they will be safe. So come you over to Rothesay at the time of the flood tide two days hence, and we will then set sail for Dumbarton."