‘I’m here tae guard these woods, tae see that naebodie nor nothing disturbs their peace.’
‘An was it ma father that gave ye such a job?’
‘Naw it wasnae.’
‘Weel, there ye are then. It should be you that’s asking ma permission tae set foot in these woods, because it is ma father that owns them.’
Then the young man’s face rose up intae a smile that seemed many a long year since it was last there. Hae plucked a rose o the deepest red tae match the yin she’d already plucked for herself. ‘I would pluck aw the roses o Carterhaugh tae hae yin as bonnie as yerself.’
After that time Janet continued tae meet Tam Linn in Carterhaugh Woods thoughoot the summer an intae the autumn.
Yin late October night, when Janet had returned hame tae the castle frae seeing Tam, the young ladies were aw occupied playing chess or bowls on the weel-manicured lawn. So intent on their games were they that they didnae take much notice o Fair Janet. However, frae the castle wall an auld grey-heided knight o her father’s looked doon on her. Then hae motioned her towards him. Hae cupped his hand an put it at the side o his mooth so hae could have a quiet word with her. ‘For what ye’ve done we’ll aw be blamed, but I’d be prepared tae walk ye doon the aisle tae prevent such a scandal.’
‘Hold yer tongue ye silly auld goat. That, as far as I’m concerned, would be the bigger scandal. I’ll father ma bairn on who I will, an it’ll never be cleeked wi yer sorry name.’
Janet was aghast that the auld whiskery-faced knight should notice her condition. However, she didnae have time tae think aboot what she should do because the next thing was that her father hurried up tae her, maist likely alerted by her harsh tone at the auld knight, but possibly by how long she’d been away. ‘Janet dear, Janet dear …’ then whatever the earl was going on tae say was left unsaid. Hae looked at his daughter keenly, an when hae did speak it was in a very canny like way. ‘Alas sweet Janet, Ah see ye’re wi child.’
‘What a thing tae say Fither, tae yer lovin dowter. How would ye ken such a thing?’
‘How could I fail tae miss such a thing in ma ain daughter?’
‘If I am wi bairn Father, there’s naebodie tae blame but ma ain self. There’s not a knight aboot yer hall that can put his name on the bairn. As a matter o fact nae earthly knight can, nor shall they. As it is, the fella’s o the elfin folk, an I wouldnae gie him up for any man in yer employ. The horse that ma sweetheart rides upon is lighter than the wind. The front twae hoofs o which are shod wi silver, an the twae behind wi burning gold. An I’ll nae stand here an say any mair, for I’m away back tae him as fast as ma legs will carry me.’ So off went Fair Janet, lifting up her skirts tae set off in the direction o Carterhaugh Woods, withoot giving her father a chance o another word.
When she reached the well at Carterhaugh she was oot o breath. There was Tam Linn’s milk-white steed as canny as afore. Yince again there was nae sign o Tam himself. She quickly looked aw aroond herself, but the only sign o Tam was his horse. So she sat herself doon, rearranged her skirts, then reached oot an pulled a particular long-stemmed thorny rose. Nae sooner had she plucked it than Tam Linn shimmered oot o frae atween its petals, just as afore. Immediately hae spoke. ‘What are ye doing plucking this thorny stem that holds the rose in such a bonnie green place as this, an aw tae kill the bonnie bairn that was brought forth by the love that was kindled atween us?’
At that Fair Janet flung the rose aside, an addressed the elfin knight instead. ‘Tell me, tell me elfin Tam Linn, tell me in the name o aw that’s holy. Have ye ever set foot in a chapel, or been an Earth-bound soul?’
‘Ma mother an father were taken frae life afore I kent them. So ma grandfather took me tae bide wi him. I was brought up nae kennin a want. Hae had me on riding frae a very early age, an it wasnae long till I was weel used tae chumming him on the hunt. Yin day, however, the wind was bitter an cauld, an we were on oor road back frae the hunt an I was lagging behind somewhat. Aw o a sudden a muckle tiredness fell aboot ma shoulders, as if the effects o the coarse wind had taken it oot o me. Next I kent I was fawin off ma horse. I didnae seem tae have any strength in ma body tae hang on with. But lo an behold I didnae faw so very far in the yin sense, but in another I fell a very long way indeed. For I was caught deftly by the Queen o the Fairies’ ootstretched fingers, an at yince wheeched off in her clutches an away through a door that only fairies ken up thon hill. Frae there we rode like the living wind away an beyond the back o beyond tae Elfland itself. An a very green an pleasant land it is tae. There are apple trees everywhere ye look, an unicorns graze on the grass lawns, canny as can be. There is though a vexing time coming in Elfland. Every seven year we hae tae pay a tithe tae Hell. As ye’ll nae doot ken a tithe is a tenth o yer income, weel Hell is wanting payed in souls. The queen thinks that because I’m only flesh an blood, that it’ll be me that has tae pay the tithe this time, an it’ll cost me ma very soul. I tell ye I’m gey feart.’
Fair Janet found that she could hardly speak in response, so many thoughts birled in her heid, each yin fighting for attention. At the hinderend she managed tae blurt oot just the yin word. ‘Feart?’ She never thought a fine man such as Tam Linn would be feart o anything. What with him being so feared by so many himself, an she herself so feart o so little.
‘Aye, feart.’
‘Is there nothing that can be done tae get ye away frae Elfland?’
‘Only the lass that truly loves me can get me away, through a bravery that would have tae match the power o her love. What’s mair, what must be done must be done tonight, for tonight is Halloween, an the veils atween the earth world an Elfland are at their thinnest.’
‘What is it that I have tae dae?’
Tam Linn went on tae explain that the stroke o midnight was the time when the fairy folk would be oot riding in a procession. Should Fair Janet want tae win him back frae the fairies then she needed tae hide herself by the side o the road at Miles Cross.
‘But how should I ken ye Tam Linn in the murk o midnight in among so many on horseback?’
‘The first procession o horses that will come along just let them pass for none will carry the likes o me. The next procession, let them go by as weel, for I winna be in their midst. But when ye see the third procession let the black horse go by, an then let the broon yin pass as weel, but when ye see the third yin, which will be a milk-white steed, have yer wits aboot ye, an as quick as anything grab a hold o the rider an pull him doon. For that will be me. I’ll be on the side nearest Melrose toon. It’s because I was an earthly knight that they gave me the privilege o riding a white horse.’
‘What if yin o the other folk is also on a white horse?’
‘That winna be the case, but I’ll see tae it that ye winna mistake me. I’ll wear a glove on ma right hand, but ma left hand shall be bare. I’ll put ma bonnet on at a jaunty angle an ye’ll see ma yellow hair. In that way ye’ll see me clear as day. When ye pull me tae the ground hold me doon tight through aw that happens. They’ll turn me in yer arms at yince intae an eel, an then intae an adder. But hang on tight ma dear, for I am yer bairn’s father. Then they’ll turn me intae a bear so fierce, an then a lion so wild, but hold on tight an dinnae be feart, for ye shall love yer bairn. Then they will turn me in yer arms an turn me intae a blazing ember. Then quick as ye can, throw that ember intae the spring well. Then I will be yer ain true love when I turn intae a clootless knight. Then ye must wrap me up in yer green mantle, an keep me oot o sight. That is what it’ll take tae bring me back, that is what it’ll take tae win me for yerself, that is what it’ll take for yer bairn tae have its father.’
Fair Janet looked fair peelie-wallie on hearing aw o this, an so Tam spoke again. ‘I have tae turn through aw these shapes tae bring me back, that is ma journey frae where I am through aw the realms tae the earth. If ye love me ye’ll hold on tae me for aw yer worth. Will ye dae that, Janet?’
Janet began nodding ever so slowly, an then she said, ‘Aye,’ in a voice
so sure that it left Tam in nae doot that she would succeed.
The night was dreich but dry wi thick cloud shutting oot the moon. None the less, Fair Janet stepped her way lightly ower tae Miles Cross. She settled herself in a broom bush on the Melrose toon side o the road at Miles Cross an waited. For a while aw she could hear was the notions o the wind wheeching through the trees an bushes. Then very faintly, as if starting in imagination, she thought she could hear a jingling o some sort. As she listened harder it gradually took on a rhythm. Then unmistakably it became the ring o bridles coming frae many horses. Although there was an unearthly music tae it she was mair than glad tae hear it.
Just as Tam told her, she let the first troop o horses pass an only let go her breath when the jingling grew tae its loudest. Then she waited further as the second troop passed by as weel. Then, when the last procession o horses reached her, she watched the black horse go by, an then she witnessed the broon yin follow suit. As the broon tail swished past her she was on her mettle. As soon as she saw the milk-white steed she sprang frae her hiding place an grabbed at the man with the cocked bonnet. She cleeked a hold o him an pulled him doon with aw her strength an passion. Nae sooner did she have him on the ground than she had him wrapped tightly in her arms.
Just then a voice like a craw cut through the air, ‘Tam is away, Tam Linn is away.’ An frae behind a broom bush a black horse reared up, as the Queen o Elfland brought the horse tae a halt. Her face shone wi an unearthly light an her sharp, black, bonnie eyes fell upon Fair Janet as she held Tam tightly tae herself. The elfin queen poured her scunnersome spells doon on the prone Tam. First Tam dwined doon an doon as hae became a slippery eel, tae try an slip away frae her grasp, but Janet just hugged him closer tae her chest. Then hae turned intae an adder that wriggled aroond whilst it kept nipping her aboot the neck. Then hae wrapped his coils aroond her body an her neck. At the same time hae was biting her hair an her scalp. Still Janet held on. Aw o a sudden she was smothered in the derk by the weighty fur o a broon bear. It’s roar alone seemed enough tae shoogle her tae bits as the sound o it reverberated through her body. Despite its claws, teeth an colossal strength, she hung on for aw she was worth. Then she was gripping a lion, but the teeth an claws o the lion couldnae get near her because o the way she hung on. Then aw at yince the lion was away. But afore she could take a braith a red-hot ember was burning her hands. Although the tears o pain were aw but blinding her, she somehow managed tae wrest that burning ember intae the spring well. The well waters hissed for a moment as she wiped her eyes with the backs o her hands. Then it was as if aw yon spells had done their utmost an could last nae mair, for oot frae the clouds o steam emerged Tam, returned tae his true form, though not an article o claes did hae have on. Quick as a blink, Janet cast her green mantle on tae him. Although the spells had lost their grip, the burning pain in her hands stayed with her tae show her that whit had happened was not entirely an illusion.
Then, as before, the craw-like voice o the fairy queen rose up. ‘I curse yer fair face, for ye have cleeked away ma bonniest knight. An as for you, Tam Linn, had I kent Fair Janet was coming for ye, I would’ve given ye a stane for a heart an twae wooden eyes frae a tree.’ Wi long fingers she reached oot an cleeked ahold o the reins o the milk-white steed. A faint light appeared in the distance. A weird fairy cry rose up an aw the fairy riders spurred their horse onwards an vanished intae the night.
Fair Janet had her sorely blistered hands clasped together for comfort. Tam Linn laid his right hand lightly on top. In this fashion they made their way tae her father’s castle.
10
THE SON O A TAILOR
THE SON O A GHOST
A long time ago a tailor used tae go roond the doors making claes for folk. Yin time hae cawed at a particular hoose, where it so happened that aw three brothers there were wanting a suit o claes made. What’s mair their sister was insisting that the tailor make a suit o claes for her as weel. The tailor didnae take the lassie very seriously, so she said tae him, ‘Name yer price, any price ye like.’
‘Weel,’ hae says, thinking hae’ll have a bit fun with her, ‘if that’s the way o it. Tell ye what I’ll do, if ye agree tae lie wi me for a night I’ll make ye a suit o claes.’
‘Aw right, fine, I’ll do it,’ she says fair impudent like.
So the tailor goes away an makes the three suits o claes for the brothers, an the suit o claes for the sister. Then hae comes back tae the hoose an gets the money frae each o the three brothers, but hae doesnae take a penny frae the sister for her suit o claes. An because hae wasnae exactly being serious with her, hae doesnae insist on sleeping with her either. So off hae goes fair happy with the pickle money hae’s gotten frae the brothers, an the wee bit o fun hae’s had with the sister.
Now it so happened that nae very long after this the lassie suddenly died. It was shortly after this tragic event, when the tailor was oot walking by himself, that hae felt somebody or something come up behind him. Hae had this queerest feeling aboot his shoulders. But every time hae looked roond there was nothing there. This went on for aboot ten minutes, or so the tailor thought, till hae was in a quiet bit where not another soul was aboot. It was then that the lassie appeared before him, or at least the ghost o her did. ‘I havnae fulfilled ma part o the bargain. Ye must sleep wi me tonight.’
The tailor got that much o a gliff that his mooth fell open an the slaivers started dribbling doon his chin, an his body gey near dropped tae the ground intae a lifeless heap o bones. An yet hae somehow found his tongue, an managed tae get oot, ‘I cannie dae that.’
‘Ye must, or I’ll haunt ye aw yer days.’ An so the tailor agrees tae sleep with the ghost.
In the morning she told him that after nine months hae must go tae her graveside. ‘There ye’ll find a newborn bairn. Hae is yer son, Thomas is his name.’
When nine month passes hae visits her graveside. Right enough there hae finds a newborn bairn, an it is lying half in the earth an half oot the earth. Lying next tae the wee bairn was a muckle book with a red cover on it. The tailor had a look inside the book, but couldnae make heid nor tail o neither the words nor letters. So hae took the bairn an the book hame with him an brought the laddie up himself. As for the red book hae took it tae a pickle learned fellas, but they couldnae make oot what was in there either.
When Thomas was aulder the tailor gave him the red book tae look at, tae see what hae could make o it. The laddie sat doon an was immediately captivated by it, an went through it frae cover tae cover as if hae understood every word.
When Thomas became o age the tailor brought the laddie intae the trade, an so his son started tae go roond the doors with him. Yin time the tailor was asked tae go tae a hoose where an auld man had died. When the tailor an his laddie got there the folk that were in attendance seemed neither up nor doon aboot the death o the auld man. There were nae hankies oot nor nothing. It turned oot that the auld man had been a bad-tempered scunnersome fella that nobody had a guid word for. The tailor was tae make a shroud for this auld man. However, in the middle o the tailor writing doon the particulars, Thomas started yowling an greeting an making the maist awfie stooshie. The tailor, o course, was fair embarrassed an couldnae get the laddie oot the hoose quick enough. The tailor, though, just decided tae let it lie; after aw the laddie hadnae come across a deid body before.
It so happened that a wee while after this they had tae go tae another hoose tae make a shroud for another auld man that had just died. This time there was a lot o hankies oot, an a lot o greeting an yowling, for this auld man was dearly loved an was being sorely missed. However, Thomas started tae grin frae lug tae lug an before long was in kinks o laughter. Again the embarrassed tailor couldnae get Thomas oot thon hoose quick enough.
As soon as they were roond the corner the tailor had it oot with his son. ‘That’s nae way tae carry on aroond a death. What in the world was there tae be laughing aboot?’
‘I’m awfie sorry, father, I couldnae help it. It was just see
in aw those daft ornaments an whigmaleeries the man had aboot the hoose, I just couldnae help laughin at them.’
‘Howts, away wi ye laddie. Come on now, I’m nae havin any o that, I want the truth.’
‘Father, I cannie tell ye the now. Wait till I turn sixteen an then I can tell ye aw aboot it, for if I tell ye the now ye’ll never see hide nor hair o me ever again.’
But Thomas’ father begged an pleaded with his son tae such an extent that in the hinderend the laddie went an told him.
‘In the first hoose where I saw the scunnersome auld man, I could see aw roond his bed was hunders an hunders o scunnersome devils. It was enough tae break yer heart, I tell ye. Then roond aboot the bed o the guid-hearted man was thoosans an thoosans o angels. I was that happy for the fella that I just couldnae help but burst intae laughter.’ Now Thomas started tae glower at his father. ‘Father, ye should have trusted me.’
An so it was, the tailor never seen his son Thomas again. That particular laddie was none other than Thomas Learmonth, who went on tae be kent as Thomas the Rhymer. Ye’ll hear aboot Thomas the Rhymer in the next story.
THOMAS THE RHYMER
A long time ago on a particularly warm day, Thomas Learmonth frae Ercildoune decided tae go an visit a friend who lived up the Eildon Hills. Hae fancied himself as a bit o a wandering minstrel so hae took his lute with him. It was such a hot day that, having made his way up the slope o Huntlie Bank that lay at the foot o the Eildon Hills, hae decided tae seek the shade o the hawthorn tree there as a place tae sit an rest for a while. After hae got his breath back hae picked up his lute an played a few tunes whilst gazing intae the woods before him. Hae was fascinated by aw the paths that led intae the derkness o the midst o the trees. As hae played hae could hear a trickling sound which hae thought was odd because any spring would surely have dried up because o the long hot summer. But as hae continued tae pluck the strings hae saw a milk-white horse emerging oot o the woods. Aw doon its mane was tied aroond fifty wee bells that jingled like running water. On the back o the horse was a bonnie young lass with long fair hair. She wore a long grass-green silk dress with a derker green velvet mantle on her shoulders. She rode up tae Thomas an hae took the reins an tied them roond a thorny bush. The twae o them sat doon with their backs tae the hawthorn trunk. Though her eyes were as black as coal she was the bonniest lass Thomas had ever seen.
Scottish Borders Folk Tales Page 11