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“
Neither
men
nor
weapons
have
we
to
win
her
back
,
”
screamed
Dark
Malcolm
,
raving
mad
,
“
but
we
may
die
fighting
to
get
near
enough
to
her
to
drive
dirk
into
her
little
breast
and
save
her
from
worse
.
”
They
were
a
band
of
madmen
in
their
black
despair
.
How
they
tore
through
the
black
night
;
what
unguarded
weak
spot
they
found
in
Ian
’
s
castle
walls
;
how
they
fought
their
way
through
it
,
leaving
their
dead
bodies
in
the
path
,
none
really
ever
knew
.
By
what
strange
chance
Dark
Malcolm
came
upon
Wee
Brown
Elspeth
,
craftily
set
to
playing
hide
-
and
-
seek
with
a
child
of
Ian
’
s
so
that
she
might
not
cry
out
and
betray
her
presence
;
how
,
already
wounded
to
his
death
,
he
caught
at
and
drove
his
dirk
into
her
child
heart
,
the
story
only
offers
guesses
at
.
But
kill
and
save
her
he
did
,
falling
dead
with
her
body
held
against
his
breast
,
her
brown
hair
streaming
over
it
.
Not
one
living
man
went
back
to
the
small
,
rude
castle
on
the
Glen
—
not
one
.
I
sat
and
read
and
read
until
the
room
grew
dark
.
When
I
stopped
I
found
that
Angus
Macayre
was
standing
in
the
dimness
at
the
foot
of
the
ladder
.
He
looked
up
at
me
and
I
down
at
him
.
For
a
few
moments
we
were
both
quite
still
.
“
It
is
the
tale
of
Ian
Red
Hand
and
Dark
Malcolm
you
are
reading
?
”
he
said
,
at
last
.
“
And
Wee
Brown
Elspeth
,
who
was
fought
for
and
killed
,
”
I
added
,
slowly
.
Angus
nodded
his
head
with
a
sad
face
.
“
It
was
the
only
way
for
a
father
,
”
he
said
.
“
A
hound
of
hell
was
Ian
.
Such
men
were
savage
beasts
in
those
days
,
not
human
.
”
I
touched
the
manuscript
with
my
hand
questioningly
.
“
Did
this
fall
at
the
back
there
by
accident
,
”
I
asked
,
“
or
did
you
hide
it
?
”
“
I
did
,
”
he
answered
.
“
It
was
no
tale
for
a
young
thing
to
read
.
I
have
hidden
many
from
you
.
You
were
always
poking
about
in
corners
,
Ysobel
.
”
Then
I
sat
and
thought
over
past
memories
for
a
while
and
the
shadows
in
the
room
deepened
.
