The king didnae ken how tae react tae this, because hae wasnae used tae a laddie going against him. Nor was hae used tae the daggers that were drawn against him, in the form o the three swords an the princess’ piercing eyes. However, hae didnae have a chance tae say anything. The princess said tae the messenger, ‘Away an ask him if hae would like tae swap handkerchiefs for the yin hae left lying on the floor o the castle that lies on the furthest hill o the Scottish Borderland.’
This time the prince arrived at the palace in double-quick time, leaving the messenger in his wake. Hae hadnae even thought tae wash his face or change his raggedy claes.
‘Are ye able tae step on tae this handkerchief withoot toppling ower?’ asked the princess.
‘Indeed I can, an indeed I will.’
An o course hae could, an o course hae did.
‘There’s nae doot aboot it, this is the prince for me,’ grinned the princess at her prince. She then faced the king, ‘Ye can keep yer other twae sons. They’ve tricked ye yince, an they’ll dae it again nae doot.’
Then she turned tae the twae injured laddies still sprawled on the floor, ‘An you pair deserve a father that orders an executioner tae cut off the heid o yin o his sons. Hae’ll gie oot that order again before long nae doot. An the executioner might nae bother himself tae save either o ye pair o scunners.’
‘Will ye come along with me tae ma castle where we can be married an ye can rule ma lands?’ she asked o the youngest prince.
‘O course, I could want for nothing mair than that.’ With that the prince led the princess oot o his father’s castle, accompanied by her protecting knights.
They immediately set oot for the far-away woods, where the charcoal burners dwelt. They gifted the family with a great deal o money for their kindness towards the prince. The prince then washed himself thoroughly an stepped intae some fine claes o velvet an silk that the princess had brought for him.
The young prince, his princess an her three knights in shining armour rode away tae the enchanted castle that was set in the middle o a stretch o derk water on the furthest hill o the Scottish Borderland. Frae the time they reached that enchanted castle the laughter throughoot the years was carried far an wide on the gusting wind.
Whether the cheating princes an foul-fettled king paid any heed an mended their ways, who can say?
6
WHUPPITY STOORIE
A WOMAN O THAT NAME
The young widow Martha’s sow was due tae gie birth tae a litter o piglets. Now, it is weel kent that pigs make awfie clumsy mothers, so Martha was always going back an forward frae the hoose tae the pigsty tae see that everything was alright. Ye see she was feart that the sow might accidentally trample on the newborn piglets. So aw day long she was forever nipping ower tae the pigsty, an always with her wee laddie at her heels. This went on till she put the laddie tae his bed at night-time, after which she would run back an forth tae the pigsty on her ain. So anxious was she aboot the piglets that she kept up her checking weel intae the night. Ye see she was expecting a litter o aboot half a dozen pigs, an the rent was due very soon, an if anything happened tae any o the piglets she would have been very hard put indeed.
Late yin night, when tiredness was threatening tae owertake her, she decided that she would have yin final look at the pigsty afore going tae her bed. She took the lantern across the yard tae the pigsty. As soon as she clapped eyes on her sow she froze. She didnae like the look o it yin little bit. It lay slumped oot with its eyes closed, pechin away as if it was having a fit. On closer inspection she realised that there was blood dribbling oot o the corner o its mooth. Something was very wrong but she didnae ken what tae dae, as her nearest neighbour was five mile away. Then she rushed away tae fill a pail o water, an clashed the pail o water ower the pig in the hope o reviving it. But it never moved an she thought she might have killed it, for it was showing that little life. It must have eaten something poisonous, surely, but what could she dae for it? In the midst o her panic an helplessness she suddenly found that she was greetin her heart oot. How would she pay the rent? How would she feed the bairn? What could she dae, what could she dae? She lifted up her apron so that she could wipe her streaming tears on the hem. Then, through her blurry eyes she made oot a derk figure afore her. After she wiped her eyes a bit mair she saw afore her a wee auld woman, dressed in derk auld-fashioned claes.
‘What makes ye greet?’ the woman asked shortly, as if irritated by the widow’s greeting.
‘The sow,’ Martha pointed, ‘it’s due tae farrow, but it’s like it’s dyin, an the rent’s due.’
‘Wheesht wuman wheesht,’ said the auld woman, ‘it’s likely tae die right enough, but I could save it.’
‘Ye could save it?’
‘I just said so, did I nae?’
Hope started pumping through Martha like she were a muckle set o bellows. She kent that these kind o folk often had cures for things tae hand denied the likes o ordinary folk. ‘Would ye help me please, I would dae anything if ye could put that sow back on its feet again, anything.’
‘Tether yerself tae that promise an I will surely dae it,’ stated the auld woman.
Martha immediately agreed, because the health o her sow would sort oot aw her problems. Just then the lantern guttered briefly then went oot. Martha couldnae see what the wee woman was doing, but she could hear her muttering some queer words in a language she’d never heard afore. Then this queer incantation was interrupted by a scuffling sound, followed immediately by a raucous grunting. The sow got up an walked aroond a bit, then lay back doon an preceded tae gie birth tae ten wonderful piglets.
As the ten piglets were having their breakfasts, Martha said tae the wee woman, ‘How can I ever thank ye, how can I ever thank ye?’
‘Now for the bargain,’ said the auld woman, an the young widow wondered what ever could she want frae her meagre hoose.
‘I’ll take the bairn.’
‘Oh nae, ye cannie take ma laddie. I have an auld broach that ye can have …’
‘I’ll take the bairn.’
‘Ye’re welcome tae ma fine linen sheets …’
‘I’ll take the bairn, an I’ll be back for him in three days. That is unless,’ she swithered, ‘unless ye can tell me what ma name is,’ an with that off she went hirpling doon the path with neither leg better than the other.
Yince the mother got back tae the hoose she looked in tae see her sleeping son. She smiled as she always did as she watched his soft sleeping features. In such a moment aw was right with the world. But then her thoughts were tugged elsewhere. Guess the wee woman’s name? How could she? Her ain sleep proved impossible, her new problem being even greater than her worry ower the health o her pig. She soon gave up on any sort o rest, flung back the covers an took herself oot intae the night. She dandered intae the woods behind the hoose. The moon was up. A few stringy clouds scudded in front o it. Stark black shadows were causing confusion amongst the derk tree trunks, but Martha kent every stick an stane on this braeside, be her eyes open or be them shut. At least she thought she did. However, when she brought her attention tae what was in front o her she discovered that she was keeking intae a derk crevice that suggested the entrance tae a cave. She must have passed by it hunders an hunders o times, so it must have been gey weel hidden, as she had never noticed this before. She didnae dare go in, as she’d had enough o queer going-ons for yin night, but she stayed quiet an listened. First she heard the whirr o a spinning wheel. Then she heard a wee bit o laughing, an she recognised the voice. Then she heard a bit o singing frae the same voice. An this is what the voice sang:
Little kens the guid dame at hame
That Whuppity Stoorie is ma name.
Martha rushed back hame, repeating the name ‘Whuppity Stoorie’ ower an ower again as she went. Now she was almost looking forward tae seeing the auld woman again, so that she could be finished with the whole business.
Sure enough the wee woman showed up three days later. The laddie was ootsi
de the hoose playing contentedly wi some nice smooth pebbles. However, when hae caught sight o the auld woman, hae got himself up an hid behind his mother’s skirts. Martha decided tae have a wee bit o fun with the woman, an she started pleading with her tae caw off the bargain. But the auld woman was deaf tae aw Martha’s pleading. She was having none o it, she was taking the bairn, as was her right. An with that she stretched oot her auld, gnarled, skinny arm towards the wee laddie, still weel tucked behind his mother.
‘Hang on a minute,’ said the mother as her laddie started tae greet, ‘ye promised me that ye wouldnae take the laddie if I could tell ye yer name.’
The auld woman cackled derisively.
‘Yer name,’ Martha announced firmly an clearly, ‘is Whuppity Stoorie.’ The wee woman was fair flummoxed, but couldnae contradict Martha, an left, hissing whispers below her breath.
After such an ordeal aw went weel for Martha an her laddie ower the many years o their lives.
WHUPPITY STOORIE
Long ago, at the time o year when the bracken was green an bright on the hills, a fine young gentleman took it upon himself tae ride ower the brae tae woo a fair lass. By the time the bracken had turned an withered tae gold there were great celebrations, on account o the grand wedding o that particular gentleman an the bonnie lass.
After the wedding the young bride was whisked away frae her father’s hame by her man so that they could away tae bide in his ain hoose. It was a grand hoose an she wanted for nothing. She had sparkling jewels, fine velvet gowns, nothing but the best, an the love o a guid man forby. She had never been so happy in her whole life afore.
However, it wasnae very long before her man approached her on a particular matter. ‘Now then wife o mine, it’s aboot time ye were setting yer fair hand tae the spinning, for a hame is nae a hame withoot the clacking o the shuttle stotting off its walls, an a wife is nae a wife unless she can spin fine threid for her man’s shirts.’
The young wife was dooncast at this. ‘But I have never spun a threid in ma life, for in ma father’s hoose the spinning wasnae a task that was considered fitting for a gentlewoman such as masel, an so it’s nae a thing I hae a clue aboot.’
Her man though just glowered at her, an hardly were the words oot o her mooth than hae came back at her. ‘Tae spin fine threid is a task that aw guid wives should be able tae dae. Frae now on ye must spin me twelve hanks o threid every day or it will be yer ain lookoot.’
‘It’s nae that I’m ower proud tae dae yer bidding, indeed it gies me pleasure tae see tae yer slightest wish, but in spinning I am clueless, an nae a hank o threid can come frae these fingers withoot the kennin how.’ She pleaded an pleaded with him, but for aw her pleading hae would have none o it. She must find oot herself how tae spin. Withoot further ado hae had the servants bring up a spinning wheel an enough flax for her first day’s work.
Aw the following week she rose early, an she turned that wheel frae the minute the first glimpse o sun glanced the heather on the hills till the last trace o light gave oot in the gloaming. But nae one guid hank o threid did she produce frae the shining piles o flax. Each night when her man came in tae pick up her fankled an knotted threid she would be greeting sorely at her poor efforts. ‘This is nae the fine threid I’m after. This coarse stuff is hardly fit for mendin the bahookies on crofters’ breeks. Ye’d better dae better than this, for dear as ye are tae me it’ll be the worse for ye.’
On the last night o that week her man informed his young wife that hae was aboot tae away on a journey, which would keep him away for a fortnight. ‘By the time I come hame ye will need tae have spun a hunder hanks o threid. If nae, as dear as ye are tae me, I’ll be forced tae cast ye aside an find a proper wife tae spin for me.’ Back in those days if a man wasnae satisfied with his wife hae could take another yin instead. Hae kissed her farewell an then set oot on his horse.
‘Mex-tae-mey, what will I dae, oh, what will I dae. I have as much chance as fly in the air as I have o spinning a hunder hanks o fine threids. Ma man will surely kick me oot when hae comes hame.’ An so it was that the young wife found herself in a bigger fankle than her poor tangled hanks o threid. As her mind fretted with aw sorts o trauchles she left her room an went oot the hoose aw together. She strode up the braeside, tae dander aimlessly aboot the heather an bracken. She hadnae gone very far when a wave o tiredness threatened tae owertake her. She sat herself doon on a muckle flat stane next tae a rowan tree which was resplendent with red berries. Having caught her breath she started tae relax in the calm gloaming. At first she thought it was her imagination playing tricks on her, but when she held her breath so that she could hear better, there it was, clear as a bell. She was amazed tae realise that queer music seemed tae be coming frae underneath the very stane she was sitting on. ‘That is surely a fairy piper, cos I’ve never heard a mortal piper play as bonnie a tune as that.’ She reached ower tae the rowan tree an plucked a wee twig frae it tae protect herself. The rowan was often used as protection frae the fairy folk. Then she rolled aside the flat stane tae find, as she had expected, that it had sheltered the entrance tae a green cave in the braeside. Keeking inside the cave she was taken aback tae see six wee women in green gowns sitting in a circle. Yin o them was working away at a spinning wheel. As the shuttle clacked away tae an fro she sang:
Little kens ma dame at hame
That Whuppity Stoorie is ma name.
Withoot another thought the young wife stepped further intae the cave an greeted the Wee Folk with guid grace. They nodded in her direction in response. It was then that she noticed that their mooths were as lopsided as a fir tree in a gale. When she noticed the fine hanks o threids that Whuppity Stoorie was spinning it sorely reminded her o her ills, an in doing so she couldnae help but burst oot greeting. The tears were streaming doon her cheeks. Yin o the fairy ladies spoke oot sympathetically, ‘Why dae ye greet so sorely ma lass? Dae ye nae have the finest velvet gown upon yer back, an sperklin jewels that would turn the heid o many a fine lady? Whitever can be yer want?’
‘Whilst ma man is away on a journey I must spin for him a hunder hanks o threid tae prove ma proper worth tae him as his wife, but try as I might I cannae spin even yin worthy o the name. So when hae comes hame, if I havenae done his bidding, even though hae loves me truly in his heart, hae’ll throw me oot an take another wife in ma place.’
There was silence now amongst the six wee ladies. Then their eyes swivelled tae yin another in turn. Then they aw burst oot laughing in a lopsided fashion.
‘Howts, is that aw yer problem is?’ started Whuppity Stoorie. ‘Aw ye need dae on the day that yer man is due back frae his travels is tae invite us tae supper that same night, an ye’ll have nothing mair tae worry aboot.’
The young wife looked at aw their smiling faces an felt a great sense o relief. ‘Tae be sure I’ll invite ye tae supper on the day o ma husband’s return. Ye will be mair than welcome. If ye can help me oot wi this I will be very much obliged tae ye aw.’
It became apparent tae her that nae another word was needing said an that it was time that she left the fairy ladies tae their ain devices, an so after giving them a wee nod she stepped back oot o the cave. She then managed tae shunt the muckle flat stane back intae position in order tae bield the entrance tae their cave. When she got back tae the hoose she kept away frae her spinning room. She was happy now, for she kent that the fairy folk always kept their word, so her problems were at a finish.
Her man came back on the very day that hae was due. The journey seemed tae have served him weel, in that hae came back in far better fettle than hae had left with. Hae smiled broadly, wrapped his arms aroond his wife an kissed her ever so tenderly. Aw the time though the young wife was expecting him tae ask her aboot the hunder hanks o threid. Whether it was on his mind tae do so she never did find oot because afore very long the servants announced that the supper was ready in the dining room.
As they made their way through her husband couldnae help noticing the six extra place
s that had been set at the dining table. ‘Six extra places, wi six wee stools, whit’s aw this?’
‘Ach weel, I invited six wee ladies tae dine wi us tae help celebrate yer return,’ announced his wife airily.
Just then they heard a scrabbling an a shuffling in the hallway. In the very next moment the six wee ladies burst intae the dining room full o laughter an smiles. The young wife had been a bit concerned aboot how her man would take tae their six wee guests, but she need not have given it a second thought, for hae was charm itself as far as they were concerned. The room was lightened by laughter throughoot their fine supper.
Towards the end o the evening the husband turned tae the ladies yince mair, ‘But tell me ladies there is something I have been curious aboot aw night, why is it that the six o ye have the same lopsided mooths, as if they were pine trees in a gale?’
At this point the young wife didnae ken where tae put herself. This wasnae a question ye wanted tae ask o guests lest ye put their noses oot o joint. However, she need nae have fashed herself.
‘Aw weel, ye see,’ started up Whuppity Stoorie herself, ‘we’re aw great spinners. We’re never done spinnin. Spinnin is oor life an it’s the spinnin that does it. Ye cannae expect tae be a great spinner an keep a straight mooth in yer heid.’
At first it seemed as if her man might have wanted tae say mair as, o course, hae had a great appreciation for the spinning, but instead hae grew very peelie-wallie as hae looked at his bonnie young wife, an then hae keeked at the six wee ladies. Hae wore the eyes o a very trauchled man, an took very much a back seat in the rest o the evening’s conversation.
Yince the six wee ladies had said their fareweels an taken off intae the night, the husband took his young wife warmly in his arms, whilst giving strict instructions tae the servants, ‘Take thon spinin wheel frae ma wife’s room an aw the makings an see tae it that they’re aw burnt tae ashes. I will not have the fair wife o mine spin another threid in aw her days. For there is nae surer way tae get a lopsided mooth than spin, spin, spin aw day long.’
Scottish Borders Folk Tales Page 7