The lassie sat there greeting for a long time, but eventually she got up an walked away. She walked until she reached a glass mountain an searched along the bottom o it, hoping tae find a path that would lead her up it. By an by she came tae a smiddy. When she went inside the blacksmith told her that hae would make her a pair o iron boots that would take her ower the mountain if she kept hoose for him for seven years. This she did an when the seven years were up she was given the iron boots. She then made off up the glass mountain. When she sclimmed doon the other side she came across an auld washerwoman’s hoose at the side o a loch. The auld woman said that she’d been given some white shirts by a knight tae wash, but try as they might neither she nor her daughter could wash the bloodstains oot o them. The lassie took the shirts doon tae the side o the loch an the bloodstains came oot on the first rinse.
Soon after it was announced that the washerwoman’s daughter was tae marry the knight whose bloodied shirts she’d washed, that the daughter was taking the credit for washing the shirts. It came oot that the knight had promised tae marry the woman that was able tae wash the blood frae his shirts. The youngest sister didnae turn a hair at this until the knight showed up for the wedding. Straight away she recognised him tae be her prince. Hae, in turn, had nae spark o recognition for her in his eyes. Such an absence in him gliffed her something terrible, as if they were living in twae different worlds, where she could see intae his, but hae couldnae see intae hers.
She took herself off by herself an brought oot her apple, ‘Ma life is in the balance, it is time tae open the apple.’ When the lassie opened the apple a whole lot o jewels spilled oot o it. She took aw those jewels tae the washerwoman’s daughter, an said tae her, ‘If ye put off yer wedding for yin day then aw these jewels are yours.’ The bride-tae-be was that toorled wi the jewels that she immediately agreed tae put off her wedding for a day.
Before the prince went tae bed that night the auld woman gave him a draft tae help him sleep. Some time later the lassie came intae his chamber an sang tae him, but because o the draft hae never stirred or heard a thing.
Seven long year I serred ye,
The glassy hill I sclimmed for ye,
The blood-slairgit serks I washed for ye,
Will ye nae waken an turn tae me?
In the morning the lassie looked tae her pear an when she broke it open even mair splendid jewels than before spilled oot o it. She took aw those jewels tae the washerwoman’s daughter, an said tae her, ‘If ye put off yer wedding for yin day then aw these jewels are yours.’ The bride-tae-be was that toorled wi the jewels that she immediately agreed tae put off her wedding for a day.
Before the prince went tae bed that night the auld woman gave him a draft tae help him sleep. Some time later the lassie came intae his chamber an sang tae him, but because o the draft hae never stirred or heard a thing.
Seven long year I serred ye,
The glassy hill I sclimmed for ye,
The blood-slairgit serks I washed for ye,
Will ye nae waken an turn tae me?
The following morning the lassie looked tae her plum an when she broke it open even mair splendid jewels than before spilled oot o it. She took aw those jewels tae the washerwoman’s daughter, an said tae her, ‘If ye put off yer wedding for yin day then aw these jewels are yours.’ The bride-tae-be was that toorled wi the jewels that she immediately agreed tae put off her wedding for a day.
Whilst the prince was oot hunting yin o his men came up tae him an asked him, ‘For the last twae nights I’ve heard some very sad but bonnie singing coming frae yer chambers. I thought it a very queer thing, given that ye’re just aboot tae get married.’
‘I ken nothing aboot any singing, but I’ll be sure tae listen oot for it tonight.’
That night, just before the prince went tae his bed, the auld washerwoman brought the sleeping draft as before but hae complained that it needed some honey tae sweeten it. When she went tae fetch some honey hae poured the concoction away. When the auld woman returned hae said that hae’d drunk it the way it was.
Later on, when the lassie went tae the prince’s chamber, the prince heard her song for the first time.
Seven long year I serred ye,
The glassy hill I sclimmed for ye,
The blood-slairgit serks I washed for ye,
Will ye nae waken an turn tae me?
Then, as hae looked at the lassie, hae recognised her an aw that had happened, an aw that had been put in their way. An so it came tae be, the youngest daughter married the prince, an they lived happily ever after. However, the washerwoman an her daughter were punished for interfering with the way things were meant tae be.
3
THE OOTLANDISH KNIGHT
A long time ago, when there was still magic going aboot as common as the flu, there was a king that loved his daughter almost as much as hae loved his hawk an his hounds an aw his horses in his stables. O course hae would have much preferred a son, but his wife hadnae survived very long after the birth o his daughter. However, the lassie proved tae be a great companion tae him. Frae an early age she took tae horse riding, hunting, an shooting with a bow an arrow as quick as any laddie. What’s mair she would have flung herself intae sword fighting an wrestling had the ladies o the court nae kept her away frae such manly activities.
When it came tae the time when she was o an age tae get married, word spread far an wide aboot how fair she was an how muckle the dowry that would come along with her would be. Hoards o young men were lured up at the castle tae try an win her hand.
But it wasnae tender words an fine manners that would turn the princess’ heid, though such attributes were very nice. However, when she discovered that they couldnae oot shoot her with a bow, or oot ride her on the hunt, tae be there at the kill at the end o the the day alongside herself an her father, be it for a stag, boar, fox or hare, she found she wasnae awfie impressed with them. Besides, nae such suitors liked tae find themselves bested by a bonnie princess in the hunting sports, an so they left as soon as was politely possible. Ower a time suitors came an left in the same fashion. Nae that it trauchled the king any, because hae fair liked the company o his daughter. But as the years passed the daughter began tae worry that she might nae find a man that impressed her.
The winters were always harder for the princess, when the days were cauld an short an the nights so very long, because she couldnae be oot hunting due tae the snow an mud an so she was reduced tae hanging aroond the skirts o her maids an ladies o the court. Yin day she went back tae her room, fair fed up, tae talk tae her parrot whose cage hung high in the window.
‘I am fair fed up o the company o ma maids, what with their repetitive songs as they get on with their sewing. I just want tae be oot on ma horse an shooting ma bow, an aw the things I’m guid at, nae hanging aboot the parlour waiting on springtime. Yet at the same time I fear that nae suitor can show himself as ma equal in the sports o the hunt.’
‘Maybe it’s time ye thought less aboot sport, an mair aboot yersel,’ said the parrot. ‘Caw for the tailor, caw for the seamstress, caw for the shoemaker. Tell them ye want the finest gown, the finest headdress, an the maist elegant leather slippers.’
The princess had never spent much time in front o the mirror considering colours, materials an shapes that suited her, but had only chosen what claes best suited her ootdoor pursuits. But now the parrot’s suggestion brought a spark aboot her an she rushed away tae gie orders tae her maids.
What with the choosing o colours, materials, styles, fittings an alterations the princess was fully occupied for the rest o the winter. So it was that on the first day o spring she smiled at herself in the full-length mirror. She was resplendent in her velvet gown trimmed with fur, her shimmering headdress, an her fine slippers that showed off the neat elegance o her feet. As she wafted through the chambers o the castle she was aware o the excited whispers o the knights, the ladies-in-waiting, the maids an the pages, aw o them captivated by her appearance. O course some
o those whispers she was meant tae hear as they spoke aboot how she must be the bonniest princess in aw o the land, aw o which made her very happy. As she smiled she couldnae help noticing a stranger in armour at the far end o the hall. Hae carried his helmet under his arm an the new sun o the spring made his armour shine. She couldnae help noticing how fair his hair was an how blue his eyes were. She looked at her maid, ‘Who is that man?’
‘That is the Ootlandish Knight ma lady,’ her maid responded.
Immediately hae smiled an walked proudly towards the princess. Hae bowed tae the king, then hae kissed her hand, never taking his eyes off her. Aw day the Ootlandish Knight an the princess spent in each other’s company, talking away in low voices. Nobody could make oot what they were saying tae each other, but they could see that hae never took his eyes off o her.
When she went tae her room at night she smiled at her parrot an said, ‘I am content ma bonnie parrot,’ an she paid nae heed when the parrot said nothing in response.
Ootside her window, doon in the courtyard, a cat prowled aroond, mewing quietly but with intent. The parrot cocked its lug tae this new sound, but said nothing.
The next day the excited princess was up early. As the sun was oot she invited the Ootlandish Knight tae go hunting with her for a fine stag.
‘I’d be fair delighted tae accompany ye, but after riding here ma horse is lame.’
‘Take yer pick o ma father’s horses. I’m sure there is something in the stable that takes yer fancy.’
So it was that the handsome knight picked oot a dappled grey for himself as the princess mounted her milk-white steed. Then the hounds were at the ready an the horn was blown an they were galloping through the woods.
The Ootlandish Knight proved every bit a match for the princess regarding horsemanship, never lagging behind aw day long an was there at the kill come evening.
When at last the princess retired tae her room she turned again tae her parrot in the window, ‘I am mair than content, ma bonnie parrot,’ an she didnae care that the parrot said nothing in return.
Meanwhile, ootside the window, doon in the courtyard, the unseen cat mewed loudly intae the night. The parrot shoogled an fluttered its wings an decided that it must speak oot.
‘I ken who tae fear, an hope ye ken as weel, ma mistress,’ hae squawked.
‘I have nae notion o what ye’re on aboot, but yer cage is crafted oot o solid wood, an ye’re hinging high up on ma window, so nothing can harm ye there.’
Next morning the princess was up afore the sun could brush her eyelashes. This time she took the Ootlandish Knight doon intae the castle grounds. They spent the morning shooting arrows at targets. The princess used her yard-long arrows, which were flighted with peacock feathers. She pulled back her bow o yew, held as steady as stane for a moment, before letting fly. She did this three times, an three times her arrows struck the wee centre circle o the target. When it came the Ootlandish Knight’s turn hae matched her shooting with his three arrows, by splitting the shafts o each o hers. By matching her flight the princess now kent that this knight was her match.
Yince the gloaming fell the princess an the Ootlandish Knight talked alone. ‘I have never kent a princess so adept at sports an so bonnie intae the bargain,’ hae said. ‘It is a pity I have so little tae offer a wife o such calibre. Aw I have is a bare castle an a muckle territory in the Ootlandish Country that lies atween Scotland an England. Some caw it the Debatable Lands, because its ownership has been fought ower, atween ma folk an yer folk for hunders o years.’
‘A castle wi plenty o land is aw that I could want. What with ma mother’s jewels an ma father’s gold an where-with-aw I have aw we could need tae fill it with,’ replied the princess.
‘Yer father would be looking for a better heeled husband than the likes o me for his only lassie.’
‘I’m sure ma father would be persuaded in time by ma happiness,’ she smiled.
‘Then leave with me now this very night an we will be married in ma ain country tomorrow. Take yer milk-white horse an I shall borrow yer father’s dapple grey, as ma lame horse is nae worthy o a knight such as masel. Wear yer finest claes that befits the bonniest bride, an bring yer mother’s gold an yer father’s jewels, an ye shall have ma castle as ye see fit, an hunt ma lands till yer heart’s content.’
The princess went back tae her room tae gather her things. ‘Ma bonnie parrot I have tae say fareweel tae ye.’ She then put on aw her newly acquired finery. Roond her fingers, wrists an neck she put on as much o her mother’s jewellery as she could, putting the rest in amongst her father’s gold, which in turn she took as much o as she could carry. She was that taken up with aw her preparations that she didnae hear the cat ootside yowling away an trying tae sclim up the castle wall beneath her window.
The parrot squawked an flapped aboot fair trauched in its cage, ‘Mex-tae-mey, mex-tae-mey!’ But the princess ignored the consternation o the bird an slipped swiftly oot the room, closing the door quietly behind her. She made her way rapidly tae the stables where the Ootlandish Knight was waiting for her. Hae cleeked the bag o gold on tae his saddle, an then she mounted her milk-white steed whilst the knight sclimmed on tae the borrowed dapple grey.
The stars greeted them as they took off intae the night, an they rode hard an long until they came tae the mooth o a muckle wide river, where the cauld salt water o the sea met with the fresh water o the distant hills. The banks were steep an rugged, an there they drew up their horses. ‘Lowp off yer horse an gie it ower tae me,’ the Ootlandish Knight said as hae got off his horse, his armour glinting in the moonlight.
As the princess sclimmed doon off her horse her mother’s jewels glinted with the stars in the sky.
‘Ma castle an lands, such as they are, lie ower there on the far side o this river, but ye will never set eyes on them,’ the Ootlandish Knight laughed. ‘Six maidens I have drooned in this river, an I have ye doon for the seventh. Take off yer mother’s jewellery, every last ring an pearl. Aye, an take off yer velvet gown an heid-dress as weel, for they are ower guid tae be clashed in the river alongside yerself,’ cackled the scunnersome knight.
‘Let me stand away frae the edge where the nettles grow, because I dinnae want them tangling with ma golden locks an freckling ma fair skin.’ Withoot saying another word the princess began removing aw o the precious rings, bracelets, necklaces, broaches an clasps frae her person an placing them carefully on the soft grass. Then she looked straight at the Ootlandish Knight an said in a cauld clear voice wi the nipping salt o the sea in it, ‘When ye came tae see me at ma father’s castle ye acted the knight, an ye were treated as such. Now ye act anything but. But if there’s a semblance o a knight in ye at aw, ye will turn yer back whilst I take off ma gown.’
On hearing this his eyes fell tae the ground in shame, for hae neither could face the maid now nor himself. Hae felt sorry for her an turned his back an glowered across the wide mooth o the river tae where the salt water was rushing in.
As soon as his back was turned the princess took three light an quick steps towards the daunting figure, an with a strength in her arms born oot o dealing with stubborn horses an stiff bows, she gave that Ootlandish Knight such a shove that in a moment hae was tumbling tapsalteerie ower the banking an intae the deep cauld river. Aw that armour on that muckle man served him nae guid now, for hae sank like a stane. Somehow hae managed tae thrash his way back up tae the surface. His mailed arms flapped aboot as hae fought tae keep his heid above water. ‘Grab hold o ma hand ma bonnie lassie, an I will make ye ma bride,’ hae cried oot. ‘Grab hold o ma hand ma bonnie lassie, an I will make ye ma bride,’ hae desperately repeated.
‘Just lie where ye belong ye false-hearted man. Let the weight o yer sins drag ye doon. Lie there instead o me. Six bonnie maids have drooned here, an the seventh has drooned yowe.’
The Ootlandish Knight screamed his last as the weight o his armour dragged him under. The princess laughed loudly with the gurgling o the waters. ‘The seven
th has drooned yowe,’ she said again. An then as an afterthought she said tae herself, ‘Is it nae lucky that I didnae listen ower close tae the ladies o the court. I kent that the wrestling would come in handy.’ After she put back on aw her mother’s jewellery she sclimmed back on her milk-white horse with the reins o the dapple grey in her other hand. She then aboot turned an went back the way they had come.
It was scarcely three hours before night gave way tae day before she was slipping back intae her ain bed. The parrot started up. ‘Where have ye been, where have ye been? I have been fair fashed aboot ye aw night long for fear that something had happened tae ye.’
‘Hold yer wheesht ma bonnie parrot,’ the princess whispered, ‘it’s true that I was in an awfie scrape, but it’s aw sorted now. If ye gie yer word that ye’ll nae tell a soul that I was away frae this room aw night ye will have a golden cage for yer hame.’
Just then the king shouted through frae his chamber, ‘What ails ye, what ails ye ma bonnie parrot, that ye prattle so long afore the day?’
Scottish Borders Folk Tales Page 4