‘I been rowin all day,’ said the old man; ‘please, take a little shot of the oars an row us across tae the island!’
‘Sure enough!’ said the king and he spat on his hands. He jumped up in the front o’ the boat and he took the oars in his hands. And the minute he took the oars in his hands, the old boatman jumped out and walked away, left the king. And the king was left there for evermore, he rowed back and he rowed forward and he rowed back and he rowed forward, but he could never, never never get his hands away from the oars or he could never leave the boat.
The young fisherman’s son had his young queen, he became king after the queen had died, and he and his princess lived happy in their palace, they had many children. But the king still rowed on from time to time and of course, as the story says, he’s still rowing yet! And that is the end o’ my story.
1 most – entirely
The Thorn in the King’s Foot
This is a story for a winter’s evening, when you want to sit round and listen to a story. I heard it from my father when I was about five or six years old, and also from my mother’s brother Duncan Townsley. But apart from the West Coast travellers and after I left Argyllshire at the age of fifteen, I never heard it. Knowledge of the disease ‘King’s Evil’ was widespread among the travelling people, but this particular narrative was not.
MANY many years ago long before your time and mine, in a faraway country there once lived a king. He ruled his kingdom with a stern stern hand, he was a very strong king, very powerful. And he and his wife lived in this large palace, they had many farms and many people in their land. He said to his queen, ‘These people – my bees – they have to wurk fir me, they’re jist my bees; without bees you wouldna hev any honey, an they’ll work hard. Whatever they do an whatever they make is half mine, because I am their king.’ He was severe. The queen had to agree with him because he was her husband, but she knew that he had many faults in his life. And the one fault that she never forgave him for, they never had any children.
So many many late evenings he would go home when he would say to the queen, ‘Isn’t it wonderful we had a great harvest today! Tomorrow the horses’ll come in, the donkeys’ll come in, they’ll bring hus all this harvest to my stores an we’ll become richer an richer.’
And the queen turned round, she said, ‘Husbant, all yir riches in the world you may fetch fir me’ll never make me happy.’
And he said, ‘Wumman, what is it you really want? What will make ye happy?’
She says, ‘Husband, I know you enjoy riches. But the only riches that ever I’ll enjoy is a baby, a baby son or a baby daughter fir me to love an cuddle an caress, an fir you – to follow after you an be the next king!’
‘Oh,’ he said, ‘I am strong, a real man, I’ll go on fir many many years!’
‘Well,’ she says, ‘husbant, you go on yir hunt, you shoot an you fight, you go among yir people. But what’s about me – I’m left all alone – husband, I want a baby.’
‘Well,’ he said, ‘we’ve tried many times, but life hes been unkind to us. But prob’ly something will turn up.’ And lo and behold something did happen, she had a baby.
And he was born, a little boy with a hump on his back, not a humped shoulder, but a hump right in the centre of his back! And he was beautiful but completely ugly, because his knees and his chin seemed to meet when he was born. The queen called for the king to come and see the new baby. And when the king saw the baby he was so upset, because he was a big strong powerful man himself. She said, ‘Look, husband, we have a baby, a beautiful boy – isn’t he lovely!’
And the king took him, he stretched his legs out, he looked at him, saw this hump right in the middle of his back, and the king got so upset, said, ‘A baby prince – a humpy prince – who in the world is ever wantin a humpy prince! Wumman, you longed fir something … in yir life you been curst with this baby!’
‘Oh,’ she says, ‘husband, I love him!’
‘Well,’ he said, ‘you might, but I don’t; I’m disgraced! That can’t walk before me, down through the courtroom an walk among the people … show off my son who’s gaunna be the next king – with a hump on his back! It wouldn’t be bad if it was jist his shoulder at was out o’ place, but it’s right in the centre o’ his back, he is a born hunchback – he’ll never be my son in no way!’
The queen loved him like nothing on this earth because he was a beautiful little boy – long golden hair – the only thing that was wrong with him was the hump on his back. And the queen used to pet it, try and shove it down with her hand and … she was pleased that God had given her a baby, even suppose it was a hunchback! She didn’t care, suppose it was like a gnome, suppose it was the ugliest thing in the world, she just wanted something to cuddle and kiss and talk to while the king was off on his own. Someone to be with her, someone she could love, something from her own body. But a year passed by and the boy grew up!
He grew up a nice wee boy and he started to walk, but he had a hump on his back. But other ways he was perfect – quite intelligent, quite happy, quite kind – and he loved his mother like nothing on the earth. But the king couldn’t look at him. As far as the king’s concerned he didn’t exist, he was no good to the king in any way. Truth was, the king was ashamed of him: he wouldn’t take him in his hand, wouldn’t walk him through the courtroom, wouldn’t take him down to a meeting or to anything. And everybody wanted to see the king’s son. The king made many excuses, ‘Oh, the queen is busy, an the queen’s doing this, the queen’s doin that, the queen’s givin him a bath’; but he would never show him to the court.
Till the people got fed up with this and they all said, ‘Where is the prince? Where is the prince, we want to see the prince!’
And this upset the king greatly, he said to the queen, ‘I can’t stand it anymore. I can’t stand it, I can’t go on like this. We hev tae tell em “the prince is dead”!’
‘But,’ she said, ‘husbant, it’s my baby, I love him! He’s my child!’
He said, ‘He has tae die! Because it’s either him or me – I can’t stand to go fore all my couriers an all my people, show off a hunchback son that will disgrace me in my kingdom.’
The queen was so upset, she cried, she cried and cried. But the king finally made up his mind that the baby had to go. She says, ‘Husbant, what are you gaunna do with him?’
He says, ‘Look, I’ll not kill him an make you sad.’ Now he had the power to; he said, ‘I’ll take him into the forest, leave him fir the wild beasts tae get him an you’ll never know if he lives or dies.’
And the queen was broken-hearted! She says, ‘Please!’ and she begged and she prayed, she begged for the world to the king not to take her baby from her. But no, the king was stubborn.
He said, ‘Ye’re not gaun to shame me, I’m the king!’ And he was the head o’ the court, the head of the land – his word was law – ‘He must go! There’s no way in the world I’m gaunna have a hunchback son walk … if he wasna a hunchback,’ he said, ‘I’d be proud to show him to the people. I would love him, I would carry him, show him to the people, I’d be happy. But I’m not takin a hunchback in anyway before my people an before my court; neither are you! He has to go.’
So very quietly, after he’d settled with his wife, he talked to two of his finest huntsmen who were his dearest friends, told them, ‘You must take this child to the forest an destroy it, but don’t tell the queen! You must destroy it immediately. Take it to the forest as far away from the palace as possible, kill it, don’t ever bring hit back before me! An then I will tell the whole world, we’ll have a funeral, we’ll bury his remains in a cask in the castle gardens and everyone’ll come, they’ll feel sorry for me. An once more I’ll be the king an I’ll feel very happy.’ So true to his words the next evening very quietly he arranged with the queen who was very sad – they took the queen’s baby who was only one year old – wrapped him in a shawl.
The huntsmen took him away and quietly slipped into the forest. And
no one ever knew a thing. Now these two huntsmen went for many miles into the forest. They were family men of their own, and the baby was so beautiful a child, lovely little boy! Because he’d a hump on his back … and they talked about it.
One says, ‘You kill him.’
The other says, ‘No, I cuidna kill him, I’ve two babies o’ my own. If I killed him, I cuidna go home then to my wife tonight. You kill him!’
‘Well,’ he said, ‘look, I can’t do it.’
The other one said, ‘Aye, neither can I.’
‘Well,’ he said, ‘luik, the’re many animals roamin in the forest tonight, wolfs an foxes an bears! Why don’t we jist place him against a tree, quietly fade away an go back, tell the king that we destroyed him. An the king’ll never know any better. Now we’ve rode many many miles from the palace, and a little infant of a year auld won’t last very long in the forest.’ So they finally made up their mind, they would leave the baby beside a tree. None o’ them had the heart to kill it, it was so beautiful.
And they took this little bundle, they placed it beside a tree and they blessed themselves. They walked away, they left it to the mercies of the earth. The baby lay beside the tree, and the owls called and the birds went to sleep, and he lay there all night … and fell asleep.
But lo and behold, unknown to them in the forest lived an old woman, a very very old woman who was suffering from a terrible disease known as ‘King’s Evil’. And her face was in a terrible mess, it’s a cancer o’ skin disease. People believed in these olden days … it was like a leper … it jist travelled in the skin an when one bit healed another bit startit over. And when the bit that healed – it left terrible holes, terrible places in their face. And she lived in the forest, she was ashamed to show her face before anybody. Always in the early morning when she knew no one was around she would go into the forest, gather sticks for her fire. And she had this little house in the forest, she never came in contact with a human soul. She was self-sufficient, she gathered berries, made her own food, kept a lot o’ hens and things, lived herself in the forest and took care of herself. She didn’t want contact with anybody because she was so deformed. Very very rarely she ever came to the town, and when she did come for any rations or any food she needed, she always kept her face covered with a veil.
So this particular morning – she always rose early – she needed sticks for her fire and she walked into the forest. And she’s picking bits here, picking bits there in her apron … when lo and behold she came to this large oak tree, and there sitting below the oak tree was the little bundle. She stopped and she looked, when she saw this, ‘Upon my soul,’ she says, ‘a baby, a beautiful little baby!’ And she picked it up, it smiled in her face, didn’t even cry. And she carried it back to her little cottage in the forest, she cuddled it to her bosom, says, ‘I wonder where you came from, little one?’ Now she kept some goats in her little place in the forest, she milked the goats and fed the baby goats’ milk. The baby laughed and giggled, never cried a minute. She says, ‘I wonder where you cam from, little one; someone must hae left you here, they couldn’t take care of ye. But I’m going to take care o’ ye and you’ll never want fir nothing as long as you live!’ Now the little child was with the old woman, and he was quite happy. She did everything for him under the sun, she loved him dearly from her heart and he was a gift to her because she was a lonely old person.
Now the queen back many many miles away in the large town in the palace was sad, and sadder and sadder. She lay in bed, wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t drink, she would do nothing, and she pined away and she pined away. The king went up and tried to coax her to eat, but no, it was no use.
He says, ‘Please, have something to eat!’
She says, ‘I don’t want nothin to eat, I don’t want nothing, I want my baby.’
‘You know it’s impossible,’ he said, ‘you can’t have yir baby.’
‘Well,’ she said, ‘if I can’t have ma baby, life is no good to me anymore.’ And she pined away and pined away till finally she died.
Now days before that the king had had a funeral for his baby son, he’d made a mock coffin and buried it in the palace churchyard. They came from all over … the king’s son had died, the baby prince had died. King made up his mind, he’d kid on he was being very sad, but in his own mind he wasn’t sad at all, it was just a formality. But when the queen died, the king was really sad, he knew in his own heart that he was the cause of his own wife’s death – his queen died because he had sent her little baby to his death. And he thought, took second thought, ‘If only, if I could overcome the thought of having a hunchback son my wife wad be alive today.’ He really loved his queen, he really did. But the queen was dead and there was nothing he could do about it. They had their funeral for the queen, the queen was buried in a little churchyard within the palace. And the king was very upset, very very upset! Very sad – now he’d lost his baby and he’d lost his queen – all through his own fault. So he thought to his ownself, ‘The best thing I can do is tae walk down to the village, walk among ma people an talk to them. It’ll keep the worry off ma mind.’
He walked down to the town and walked among the people, and everyone said, ‘Ir Majesty … sorry’ here and ‘sorry’ there. When lo and behold who should he see come walking up the street but an old woman – with a veil over her face and a hood on her head, carrying a basket. And she’s hurrying on. She’s walking along the pathway and when she came to the king she stopped. She stepped off when she saw the king, off the path leading to the village.
And she said, ‘On your way, Your Majesty, curse upon you!’
The king said, ‘What did you say, auld wumman?’ And the old woman never said anything, the old woman hurried on.
But the king was walking down towards the path and he thought it queer, he wondered to himself, ‘What did that auld woman say?’ He thought he’d heard her saying ‘curse upon you’ but he wasn’t sure he ever heard a word atall. And he looked back – and all in a minute something jagged his foot – right there in the path something jagged his foot when he looked round after the old woman. He saw the old woman disappear in the distance. (In these days they wore shoes made of skin, and between the foot and the skin wasn’t very much – like moccasins – and it was easy for a thorn or anything that was sharp on the ground to jag your foot!) And the king, it was his toe, his big toe was pierced with some kind o’ thorn or something the king felt in his foot.
But he walked on to the village, talked among the people and everyone said how they were sad, how they were so sorry for the king. In their own minds they weren’t really sorry, but they talked about this and talked about that. The king walked round to try and find some comfort among his people, but he could find no comfort. Deep in his mind he had this worry about his queen and his little son whom he’d destroyed, all because of his own fault. But the more he walked, the sorer his toe began to come. And it got sorer and sorer. By the time he’d walked through the little village where his pals were, by the time he got home he could barely move his foot, it was in such a sorry state. He came into his room, had his meal and went to his chamber to lie down. And he ordered for his people to come, to look at his foot.
Now in these days they didn’t have any doctors; they had court magicians, and they came, took off the king’s boot just made of skin. They washed his foot and bathed his foot, they anointed it with oil and did everything. But it was throb-throb-throb-throb-throb-throb, and the king was annoyed, he was in pain. He said, ‘You must do something for this, it’s terrible sore. Youse people who are learned people, I pay youse so much money, youse must do something, I’m in terrible pain!’ But from that day on and days after and days after, the king’s foot got worse and worse and worse.
All round the country, they came from all places to try and cure the king’s foot, but no way, he never got any better! And the king got a rest for his foot, he got pillows under his foot and he stuck it out the window! Just lay beside the window and he stuck his foot
out the window. But all the time the days were passing and the months were passing, the king was getting older, the thorn in his foot was getting bigger and bigger! And it grew and it grew till a branch came from it! They sent for couriers from all over, wise men from all over the country to come and cure the king’s foot, but there was no way in the world – if they pulled the leaves off – the next morning they were back again. And the king was in agony. The thorn in the king’s foot grew and grew, and nobody seemed to help him, no way. The king offered rewards, he offered everything, he was in agony. People came from different countries, wise men came and examined it, they cut the thorn off his foot, shaved it, bathed it, anointed it with oil – next day it was back as far as ever – there’s no way in the world that the king could get any peace or any rest. He never slept, he never slept in any way.
By the first year the king was annoyed, by the second year the king was terrified, by the third year the king had made many promises and he’d suffered all this pain. And he promised anything to anybody that would come and rid him of this disease in his foot. But no way could the king get any peace, he had two–three cat-naps, but always this nagging pain in his toe! And the more they came and cut it, every time they cut it, it always came again. The king said he was ‘curst fir evermore’, and he knew that his life was fading away. And the only consolation the king had was to lie by the window, hold his foot out in the cold wind, and lo and behold the only time that the king got any peace – when the wind was blowing from the forest – when the wind changed and was blowing from the forest, it blew a cooler breeze on the king’s foot, the king would go to sleep. But the minute the wind changed, the pain was so bad the king woke up once more!
Now, through the king’s suffering for many many years, the little boy and the old woman lived in the forest all together. And she taught him everything, she learned him to hunt, learnt him to shoot, and she schooled him, learned him everything under the sun till he became the age o’ fifteen years old. He never was away from the forest in his life, and he called her his ‘mother’. And as she got older, she got uglier. When one piece of her face healed, the other piece got broken out, till her face was just a heap of marks like potwarts. But the young boy loved this old woman like nothing on the earth. And he went on loving her.
The King and the Lamp Page 28