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Folk Tales of Scotland

Page 17

by William Montgomerie


  ‘Stop taking our kale!’

  ‘Hold your tongue, lass, or I’ll take you too!’ cried the Giant.

  ‘You’ll do no such thing!’ said she.

  But, without a word, the Giant picked her up and threw her into the basket, on top of the kale. And away he went, over the hills, till he came to his house. He bumped the basket down on the stone floor.

  ‘Come on, out you get!’ he roared. ‘It’s past sunrise and there’s work to be done. I’ll not have an idle lass about my house.’

  ‘What will you have me do?’ asked the Princess.

  ‘First, you must milk the cow and drive her on to the hill to graze. Then you must work that wool, wash it, comb it, and spin it. When you’ve spun it, you must weave it into cloth. And mind it’s ready when I come back tonight.’

  The Princess milked the cow and drove her on to the hill to graze, but when she saw the great heap of wool, she was at her wits’ end, and didn’t know where to begin. So she made herself a bowl of porridge.

  She was sitting supping the porridge, when in ran a crowd of Wee Folk with yellow hair and wee pointed faces. They gathered round singing:

  ‘If you’re kind, you’ll give us a sup,

  A greedy one will send us off!

  Kind or greedy? Kind or greedy?

  Which are you? Which are you?’

  The eldest Princess was greedy, so she said:

  ‘Little for one, less for two,

  Never a grain have I for you!’

  The Wee Folk ran off crying: ‘Greedy! Greedy! Greedy!’ When the Giant came home that night and found that the Princess had not finished her work, he roared until the roof cracked, seized her by the hair and flung her into the hen-house.

  Next night the Giant went to the widow Queen’s garden to get a basketful of kale. This time the second Princess was waiting and watching for him, but like her elder sister, she was unlucky. By the following night, she too was locked up in the hen-house, for everything that had happened to her elder sister happened to her.

  The widow Queen was worried when her two daughters did not return.

  ‘It’s my turn to watch for the thief tonight,’ said the youngest Princess, ‘and find out what has happened to my sisters.’

  ‘Stay with me,’ said her mother. ‘I don’t want to lose three bonny daughters for the sake of some kale.’

  But the youngest Princess refused to listen, and that night, she too was tossed into the Giant’s basket and taken to his house. She too was told to milk the cow and drive her on to the hill to graze, and then to wash, comb, spin and weave a heap of wool.

  Well, she milked the cow and drove her up the hill to graze, but when she saw the great heap of wool to be worked, she was at her wits’ end, and didn’t know where to begin.

  So she made herself a bowl of porridge. She was sitting, supping it, when in ran a crowd of Wee Folk with yellow hair and wee pointed faces. The Princess was delighted to have someone to talk to.

  ‘Good day to you, Wee Folk,’ she said. And they sang:

  ‘If you’re kind, you’ll give its a sup,

  A greedy one will send us off!

  Kind or greedy? Kind or greedy?

  Which are you? Which are you?’

  The youngest Princess was kind, so she said:

  ‘Go and get your spoons. There’s plenty for us all!’

  ‘Kind, kind, this one is kind!’ cried the Wee Folk, taking out their horn spoons.

  When the porridge was finished, they thanked the Princess and ran off, all except one wee lad, who stood and bowed.

  ‘Have you any work for me?’ he said.

  ‘That I have and more,’ said the Princess. She showed him the wool and told him it had to be washed, combed, spun and woven into cloth before the Giant returned that night. ‘Even if you can do all that, I’ve nothing to give you in return.’

  ‘Don’t be worrying yourself about that,’ said he. ‘All I ask is that, when I bring back the wool, woven into cloth, you’ll guess my name.’

  The Princess agreed, so he took the wool and away he went.

  Now, the Princess was not one to meet trouble half-way, so without another thought about the wee lad’s name, she set to and prepared the Giant’s supper for him. She was busy doing this, when there was a knock on the door. She opened it and there was an old wife begging for a night’s shelter.

  ‘Come in, old wife,’ said the Princess. ‘This is the Giant’s house and no place to take shelter, but if you can answer my riddle, there’ll be shelter and food for you, right enough.’

  ‘Tell away, bonny lass, tell away,’ said the old wife.

  ‘Riddle me ree, riddle me ree!

  Riddle me, riddle me, one two three!

  Riddle me here, riddle me there,

  The name of the lad with the yellow hair!’

  ‘Ah, now, let me see, there was a wee lad with yellow hair on the hillside as I came by,’ said the old wife. ‘Maybe he can help me.’

  So off she went to the hillside. It was growing dark, and she saw a shaft of light shining faintly from behind rocks. The old wife crept up and peered round. There was an entrance to a cave and inside she could see a crowd of Wee Folk busy working with a heap of wool. Some were washing it, some combing and spinning it, while others were weaving it into cloth. Running here and there, among them, was a wee lad with yellow hair, singing:

  ‘Tease, teasers, tease!

  Card, carders, card!

  Spin, spinners, spin!

  Weave, weavers, weave!

  For PEERIE FOOL is my name!’

  ‘Well now, there’s a good piece of news worth a night’s shelter and a bite of food,’ said the old wife to herself, as she hurried back to the Giant’s house.

  When the Princess heard what the old wife had to tell her, she opened the door wide, gave her a large bowl of porridge and a soft bed in a safe place, well out of sight.

  When the wee lad arrived with a roll of woollen cloth over his shoulder, he refused to leave it before the Princess guessed his name.

  ‘You can have three guesses,’ said he.

  ‘Grey Whaup,’ said she.

  ‘It is not,’ said he.

  ‘Willie Buck,’ said she.

  ‘Willie Buck, me! That’s a good one! No, you’re wrong, bonny lass, you’re wrong, and you’ve only one guess left!’

  And he rocked with laughter.

  ‘Peerie Fool,’ said the Princess. ‘PEERIE FOOL!’

  At this, the wee lad threw down the roll of cloth, and ran off into the darkness.

  The Giant was pleased to see his supper ready on the table when he returned that night.

  ‘Have you milked the cow and taken her to graze?’ he asked.

  ‘I have,’ said the Princess, ‘and here’s the cloth from the heap of wool you left for me.’

  ‘Well, I have found a bonny lass,’ said the Giant, and gave her a chuck under the chin with his forefinger that knocked her over, although he meant it kindly enough. ‘You must stay with me always and in return, I’ll grant you three wishes.’

  Next day, while the Giant was away, the Princess looked for her sisters. She searched every room, cupboard and corner but they were nowhere to be found. She was about to give up in despair when she heard a great commotion and clatter coming from the hen-house outside. She thought a fox must have got in and was worrying the hens, so she ran out and unlocked the hen-house and there she found her two miserable sisters. They were frozen and very, very hungry. The Princess took them into the house, sat them by the fire and gave each of them a bowl of hot porridge. They told her all that had happened to them and begged her to help them escape.

  ‘We’ll find a way,’ said the youngest Princess.

  ‘The Giant will see us and with two strides, he’ll catch us,’ said her sisters.

  ‘Then he’ll have to carry you home himself!’ said the youngest. ‘You, elder sister shall go first. You must hide in the bottom of this basket and I’ll cover you with grass. This ni
ght I’ll ask the Giant to take the basket of grass and leave it at our mother’s door. He’ll do this for me.’

  ‘What shall I do?’ asked the second sister.

  ‘I’ll hide you in this other basket,’ said the Princess, ‘and the Giant will carry you home tomorrow night.’

  The two sisters curled themselves up in the bottom of the baskets and the Princess covered them with grass. Then she prepared the Giant’s supper, but before it was cooked he came in and said:

  ‘Well, bonny lass, what’s the first of your three wishes?’

  ‘I wish you would carry this basket over the hills and leave it outside my mother’s door. It’s grass to feed her cow. But haste you back, for your supper’s nearly ready.’

  ‘I’ll do that,’ said the Giant, and off he went.

  Seven strides and he was at the cottage door, where he left the basket. Seven strides more and he was back again, ready for his supper.

  Next day, the Princess said that her second wish was the same as her first. So the Giant took the second basket over the hills and left it at the mother’s door, and strode seven steps home again, and the supper the Princess had ready for him was tastier than ever.

  The following day, before the Giant went off, the Princess told him that she would have another basket full of grass for the cow ready for him to carry to her mother.

  ‘It’s my third and last wish, so please take it for me,’ she said. ‘I’ll not be here myself for I’ll be gathering fresh herbs for your supper, which will be ready when you return.’

  ‘I’ll do that,’ said the Giant.

  That evening there was a basket ready for the Giant to carry to the cottage door. Seven strides and he put it down beside the door. But this time the widow Queen was at the door waiting for him.

  ‘It’s kind of you to bring grass for my cow,’ said she, ‘but how are my daughters and when shall I see them?’

  ‘Well, that depends! As for your youngest daughter,’ said the Giant, ‘she’s a grand wee cook. I’ll not part with her.’

  ‘A grand cook is she,’ said the widow Queen. ‘She’s not as good as I am. Wait till you taste the stew I’m cooking.’

  ‘Let me try it, old wife,’ said the Giant. ‘I’m hungry enough for two suppers.’

  The widow Queen brought out a pot of steaming stew and handed a ladleful to the Giant.

  ‘Taste that,’ she said. He tasted it and asked for more.

  ‘You’re a good cook,’ said the Giant, ‘but not as good as your youngest daughter!’ And away he went.

  He had only taken three strides, when the Giant fell down dead, for the deadly death-cap toadstools had been cooked in that stew. So that was the end of the Giant and the beginning of happiness for the widow Queen and her three bonny daughters.

  THE HEN

  HERE was once a poor woman who gave birth to a hen instead of a baby. The Hen grew big and looked after her mother. Every day she went to the King’s house to beg for left-over food. One day the King came to the door, and when he saw the Hen there, he said:

  ‘What do you want, you nasty little creature? Go away!’

  ‘I may be a nasty little creature,’ said the Hen, ‘but I can do something your wife, the Queen, can’t do.’

  ‘And what may that be?’ asked the King.

  ‘I can spring from rafter to rafter, with a pot-hook tied to one leg and tongs tied to the other.’

  The King fetched the Queen, and when she saw the Hen, she said:

  ‘I’d like to see anything that little creature can do that I can’t!’

  So the Hen, with a pot-hook tied to one leg and tongs to the other, without any bother sprang from one rafter in the roof to another. Then the Queen with a pot-hook tied to one leg and tongs tied to the other, clambered on to the rafters. She stood there, wobbling, then sprang with all her might. But she slipped. The pot-hook caught on the rafter, the tongs cut her legs, and she fell to the ground, breaking her head.

  The King had four more wives and the Hen got rid of them all in this way.

  ‘You’d be better off if you married my mother,’ she said to the King. ‘She’s a very fine woman.’

  ‘Avoid me, you nasty little creature!’ said the King. ‘You’ve caused me enough trouble already.’

  ‘You’d better marry her,’ insisted the Hen.

  ‘Send your mother here!’ said the King.

  So the Hen fetched her mother and the King married her.

  Now, one day, when the King and the Queen were out, the Hen was left alone in the house with the King’s eldest son, who spied on her and saw her remove her hen disguise. He was amazed to see that she was really a beautiful young woman and, when she was out of the room, he took her hen disguise and flung it on the fire. It blazed up and in a few minutes was a little pile of white ashes.

  When she saw that her disguise had disappeared, the young woman was furious. She seized a sword and threatened the Prince with it.

  ‘Give me back my hen disguise, or I’ll cut off your head,’ said she.

  The Prince was afraid when he saw the sword, but there was nothing he could do, for he’d burnt the skin. It had gone for ever.

  ‘I don’t really want to kill you,’ said she, ‘but I don’t know what will become of me without my hen disguise. If I make another for myself, you’ll burn me as a witch, so I must stay as I am.’

  When the King came home and saw the fine young woman going about his house, he wanted to know who she was, where she had come from and what sort of woman she was. She told him all that had happened to her and that she was indeed his new Queen’s daughter, who had been under a spell from the moment she was born.

  ‘I feel strange as a woman,’ she said, ‘and I love my mother who did not abandon me.’

  The beautiful young woman was welcome in the King’s house, and they all were happy together. After a while she married the King’s son who had burned her hen disguise. There were great wedding feasts and celebrations that went on for a year and a day in the King’s house.

  THE YOUNG KING

  OON after the young King of Easaidh Ruadh had ascended the throne, he decided to gamble with the Gruagach, the long-haired, bearded Brownie who lived near by. So he went to the soothsayer.

  ‘I’ve made up my mind to gamble with the Gruagach,’ he said.

  ‘Are you that kind of man?’ said the soothsayer. ‘Are you rash enough to gamble with the Gruagach? My advice to you is to change your mind, and not go at all.’

  ‘I’ll not do that,’ said the young King.

  ‘Then my advice to you, if you win against the Gruagach, is to ask as your winnings the maid with the rough skin and the cropped hair who stands behind the door.’

  If the sun rose early, the young King rose earlier still to gamble with the Gruagach. When they met, they blessed each other.

  ‘Oh, young King of Easaidh Ruadh, what has brought you here? Do you want to gamble with me?’

  ‘I do,’ said the young King.

  So they played, and the young King won.

  ‘Name your stake,’ said the Gruagach.

  ‘My stake is the girl with the rough skin and the cropped hair who stands behind the door.’

  ‘I’ve fairer women than she,’ said the Gruagach.

  ‘I’ll take no other,’ said the King.

  The Gruagach showed the young King twenty bonny girls.

  ‘Choose one of these,’ he said.

  And they came out, one after the other, and each one said:

  ‘I am she. You are foolish not to take me with you.’

  But the soothsayer had advised him to take none but the last one. When the last girl came, he said:

  ‘That one is mine!’

  She went with him, and when they were some distance from the house of the Gruagach, she changed into the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. They went together to the castle, and were married.

  If it was early when the sun rose, the King rose earlier still to gamble with the Gruagach.<
br />
  ‘I must gamble with the Gruagach today,’ he said to his wife.

  ‘He is my father,’ said she. ‘If you gamble with him, take nothing for your winnings but the shaggy filly with the wooden saddle.’

  The young King went to meet the Gruagach.

  ‘Well,’ said the Gruagach, ‘how did your young bride please you?’

  ‘She pleased me very well.’

  ‘Have you come to gamble with me again today?’

  ‘I have,’ said the young King.

  They gambled and the King won.

  ‘Name your stake, and be sharp about it!’

  ‘My stake is the shaggy filly with the wooden saddle,’ said the young King.

  The Gruagach took the shaggy filly out of the stable. The young King mounted her, and how swift she was! His wife welcomed him home, and how merry they were together that night.

  ‘I would rather you did not gamble with the Gruagach any more,’ said his young wife, ‘for if he wins he will bring you trouble.’

  ‘I’ll play with him once more,’ said the King.

  If the sun rose early, the young King rose earlier still to gamble with the Gruagach, and the Gruagach was pleased to see him. They played, and this time the Gruagach won.

  ‘Name your stake,’ said the young King, ‘and don’t be too hard on me.’

  ‘What you owe me is the Sword of Light that belongs to the King of the Oak Windows, otherwise the girl with the rough skin and the cropped hair will have to kill you.’

  The King went home heavy-hearted. The young Queen met him as he came home.

  ‘You’ve brought nothing with you tonight?’

  The King sat down and drew her toward him, and his heart was so heavy that the chair broke under him.

  ‘What is the matter?’ said the Queen. The King told her what had happened.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘You have the best wife in Erin, and the second-best horse. You will come out of it well.’

  The Queen rose before dawn, and set everything in order. She groomed the shaggy filly with the wooden saddle. The King mounted and the Queen kissed him and wished him luck.

 

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