Collected Folk Tales

by Alan Garner

  At Cromer, the Dog is called Black Shuck. Elsewhere, it is the Swooning Shadow, the Snarleyow, the Skriker, and the Moddy Dhoo. In Yorkshire, Durham and Northumberland it is known as the Bargeist.

  The villages around Leeds have a supernatural dog called Padfoot. “It is sometimes visible, sometimes invisible, but ever and anon padding lightly in the rear of people, then again before them, or at their side. In size it is somewhat larger than a sheep, with long, smooth hair. It is certainly safer to leave the creature alone.”

  A story is told of a man, whose way was being obstructed by the Padfoot. He kicked the thing, and was immediately dragged along through hedge and ditch to his home and left under his own window.

  Of all the creatures of folk-lore, belief in the Dog has survived most strongly to the present day. And, as with the wild worms, the legends are grouped most thickly in the areas of Viking penetration – all along the east coast, from Northumberland to Kent; the Isle of Man; and the coastal parishes of North Wales.

  Odin, the chief god of the Vikings, had two hunting hounds, Geri and Freki. They went with him at all times.

  That is true. But so is this:

  “Should you never set eyes on our Norfolk Snarleyow, you may perhaps doubt his existence, and, like other learned folks, tell us that his story is nothing but the old myth of the black hounds of Odin, brought to us by the Vikings who long ago settled down on the Norfolk coast.

  “Scoffers at Black Shuck there have been in plenty. But now and again one of them has come home late on a dark, stormy night, with terror written large on his face, and after that night he has scoffed no more.”

  And here is a transcript of a tape recording that I made. The words are exactly as they were spoken:

  “Well this thing happened eight or nine years ago, when I was doing my National Service on a radar station in East Anglia.

  I say ‘in’ East Anglia; actually we were right on the edge of it, surrounded by sea, river and marsh; just this one road connecting us with the mainland.

  Well, the camp was divided into two main areas; the first place you came to was the actual work-site, and then beyond it, at the very end of the road, were the living quarters.

  Now these centred round a large manor house, which had either been bought, or leased, or pinched or something from a very well-known Suffolk family, who’d lived there.

  The main drive that went down from the manor house to the work-site had been laid out with particular care. And I remember, there was one night in late spring or early summer that I was going down from the living quarters to do a late shift. It was a very still, clear night, and rather warm, I think.

  Well now; this drive was lined by tall trees. And I remember there was a pretty full moon that night. I’d been doing fire-picket, or special duty, or something – I don’t know. Anyway, it was about one o’clock in the morning, and I was all by myself.

  Well, just before you get to the work-site, there’s a couple of gates that lead out on to the public road. There’s a big gate, for road traffic; and a smaller one at the side for pedestrians.

  Anyway, I’d got, I suppose, just over a hundred yards away from the gates, when I heard the sound of the smaller one being shut. Nothing very unusual about that.

  But as I got a bit nearer, it occurred to me that it must have been someone going up to the work-site, like I was, because there was no one coming towards me. Then I also began to hear what sounded like footsteps. It was odd, because, as I say, I couldn’t see anyone, but at least it was still a fairly indistinct sound.

  Well, by now I was only sixty or seventy yards away from this gate, and I could still hear this sound. And then, suddenly, I realised they weren’t a human being’s footsteps. They were an animal’s. Something like a very big dog. Pit-pat, pit-pat, pit-pat-sort-of-thing. And they were coming towards me. And I couldn’t see a sign of the thing.

  And then suddenly, you know, crack! this cold fear suddenly hits you. You feel absolutely trapped.

  I stood dead still. And this pit-pat, pit-pat, pit-pat comes right up to within inches of me; and goes on past me up the drive; and there’s not a thing to be seen; not a thing. It’s an absolutely dead still night. You could hardly even hear any wind in the trees; and I was absolutely rooted to the spot.

  And then, wham! I took off like a rocket.

  I raced down the drive, through the gate and up to the worksite. I asked the policeman on duty, has anyone come down from here during the last half-hour?

  ‘No,’ he says. ‘You’re the first that’s been or come for three quarters of an hour.’”

  That was Peter Plummer, the director and producer of the film of The Owl Service. He might have been a scoffer – if he had known that there was anything to scoff at. But he has never heard of Black Shuck.

  he goodman of Leegarth was well-to-do, and lived on his land. His farm lay in a valley, watered by a burn and sheltered by hills. His goodwife was thrifty and active, and she bore him seven sons and one daughter. The youngest son was called Assipattle.

  Now his brothers looked down on Assipattle, and treated him with contempt; and perhaps this was natural, for he did little work on the farm. He ran about the doors and over the bridge-stones all day, in ragged clothes and uncombed hair, from which every breath of wind blew a puff of dust. And in the evenings he would lie wallowing in the ashes.

  Assipattle had to sweep the floor, bring peats to the fire, and do any other little job too mean for his brothers, who cuffed and kicked him, while the women laughed at him, so that he had but a dog’s life. Yet his sister was kind to him. She would listen to his stories about trolls and giants, when his brothers would throw clods at him and tell him to stop his lying tales. What made his stories the more provoking to his brothers was that he himself was always the great man in them, and was sure to come off on the winning side.

  It fell on a day that the king’s messengers came to Leegarth with a message to the goodman from the king. The king asked the goodman to send his daughter to live in the king’s house and be maid to the princess, the king’s only child. So the girl was dressed in her best; and with his own hands her father made her a pair of shoes to wear in the king’s house; and of them she was proud, because she had always gone bare-footed before. Then she was set on a pony and sent to the princess. After that, Assipattle was more silent and dull than ever.

  Now it fell out that doleful tidings were brought to that part of the country.

  It was said that the Stoorworm was drawing near; and this news made the boldest heart beat fast. And, truly, the Stoorworm came, and set up his head to the land. He turned his awful mouth, and yawned horridly, so that when his jaws smacked together they made a noise that shook the earth and the sea. This he did to show that if not fed he would consume the land.

  Now you must know that this was the largest, the first and the father of all the Stoorworms, and for that he was well called the Mester Stoorworm. With his breath he could kill every living creature, and could wither up everything that grew.

  Now there was a sorcerer in the kingdom, who was said to know all magic; but the king thought he was a deceitful man.

  The king and his court met in counsel for three days, but could find no plan by which they might escape the Stoorworm; and when they were at their wits’ end, the queen came into the chamber. She was a stern, bold wife, and very big and manlike, and she said to them, “You are all great and brave warriors when you have only men to face, but now you deal with a foe that laughs at your strength, and before him your weapons are straw. It is not by sword and spear, but by the power of sorcery, that this monster can be overcome. Take counsel with the great sorcerer, who knows all things. Wisdom wins where might fails.”

  So the sorcerer was called and asked to give counsel. He said, “The question is a great one, and hard to be answered. The only way to keep off the Stoorworm and to save the land is to feed him every week with the flesh of seven maidens. If this does not work, there is only one other remedy to save
us; but that is so horrid that it may not be told until the first plan fails.”

  So he spoke, and so they did. Every Saturday seven maidens were bound and laid on a rock in front of the Stoorworm; and he would stretch out his tongue and sweep the maidens into his mouth. It was a pitiful and heart-grieving sight to see.

  Now it fell on a day that the people about Leegarth went to the top of the hill where they might see the Stoorworm; and they watched him take his feast. Women wept and screamed, and strong men groaned, and their faces grew as grey as dead coals. While all lamented and wondered, Assipattle stood up, staring at the monster with both eyes, and, said he, “I’m not afraid. I would fight the Stoorworm.”

  With that, his eldest brother gave Assipattle a kick and bade him go home to the ash-hole. Then his other brothers pelted him with stones for his bragging, till he ran away.

  At night, the goodwife of Leegarth sent Assipattle into the barn with a message for his brothers to come to supper. The brothers were threshing the supper straw for the cattle. They threw Assipattle on the barn floor, heaped straw on top of him, and would have smothered him had not his father come and rescued him from their hands.

  Assipattle said to his father, “You did not need to come to my help. I could have fought them all; and I’d have beaten every one of them.”

  Then they all laughed, and said, “Why didn’t you try?”

  “I wanted to save my strength,” said Assipattle, “until I fight the Stoorworm.”

  “You’ll fight the Stoorworm,” said his father, “when I make spoons from the horns of the moon.”

  Next there arose great murmuring over all the land about the deaths of so many young maidens. People said there would soon not be enough women to bring forth men. So the court met in counsel, and called for the sorcerer, and demanded to know what was his second remedy.

  The sorcerer raised his ill-favoured form, his beard hanging down to his knees, his hair around him like a cloak, and he said, “With cruel sorrow there is only one way. The king’s daughter must be given to the worm. Then the monster will leave our land.”

  The king arose, tall, grim and sorrowful. He said, “The princess Gemdelovely is my only child. She is my dearest on earth. Yet let her die. It is well that the last of the oldest race should die for her people.”

  The king’s Kemperman spoke up and said, “This doom, like other beasts, should have a tail. And let the tail be this. If the Stoorworm should eat and not depart, then its food shall be the sorcerer next.”

  It was agreed. And it was agreed that there should be respite of three weeks to try to find some champion or any that would fight the Stoorworm. The king sent messengers to tell all men that whosoever by war or craft would remove the Stoorworm from the land should have Gemdelovely for his wife, and with her the kingdom and the sword Sickersnapper. Many a prince and great warrior thought the threefold prize the three greatest blessings on earth: a wife, a kingdom and a sword. But the winning of them made the heart of the boldest stand still.

  When the goodman of Leegarth came from the court with his news that the beautiful Gemdelovely was to be fed to the Stoorworm there was grief in all the house. But Assipattle, whatever he thought, said nothing.

  Now thirty-six great champions came to the king’s house, hoping to win the prize. But when they looked on the Stoorworm, twelve of them fell sick, and were carried home. Twelve were so terrified that they ran to their own countries. And twelve stayed at the king’s house with their hearts in their stomachs.

  On the evening before the great day, the king made to his men and the twelve champions a great supper. It was a dreary feast: little eaten and less said. And though the men drank deep they had no spirit to make fun; for, the dool of the morrow lay on their hearts. And the king turned the back of the lamp to himself that night.

  When all but the king and his Kemperman had gone to bed, the king opened the great chest on which he sat. It was the high seat in the hall, in which his precious things were kept. The king took out the great sword Sickersnapper.

  “Why do you take out Sickersnapper?” said the Kemperman. “My lord, four-score and sixteen years will be in the morrow since you came into the world. Your day for fight is gone. You are too old to wield her now.”

  “Do you think,” said the king, “that I would abide to see my only child fed to a monster? I tell you, and with my thumbs crossed on the edge of Sickersnapper, that I and this sword shall break before I see my daughter die. So get you to the shore by cock-crow, Kemperman. Prepare my boat, with mast up, and guard her till I come. It is the last service you will do me, my Kemper.”

  At this, the king’s harper leapt from his sleep and ran to the door. He turned, and sang this song:

  “Where fire burnt is embers cold;

  The man that once was bright and bold

  Is now unfeerdie, duff and old,

  And cannot Sickersnapper hold.

  A slockid cinder and dead ash

  Can never save the bonnie lass.”

  The king threw a cog of ale at his head, but he was too quick for the cog. So that was the way the supper ended.

  Now at Leegarth that night there was great preparation, for all were to go in the morning to the death of Gemdelovely. All were to go but Assipattle, who had to stay at home and herd the geese. And as he lay that night at the smoored fire he could not sleep, being troubled with thought, and he heard his father and mother talking to each other in bed.

  The goodwife said, “You are all going to see the princess eaten tomorrow.”

  “Indeed you will come with us,” said the goodman.

  “I do not think I will,” she said. “I’m not able to go on my feet, and I do not care now to ride alone.”

  “You need not ride alone,” said the goodman. “I’ll take you behind me, and we’ll both ride on Teetgong; and I’ll be bound there will be none go before us while we ride on him.”

  Now Teetgong was the fastest horse in the land.

  The goodwife said, “Why would you care to take an old woman like me behind you for all the folk to see?”

  “What havers!” he said. “Do you think there is anyone in the world I would like better to sit behind me than my own goodwife?”

  “I do not know,” she said. “But I have sometimes thought you did not love me as a husband should love his wife.”

  “What puts such a notion into your head?” said the goodman. “You know I love you better than any woman on earth. What did I ever do or say to make you think I did not love you?”

  “It is not what you say,” she said, “it is what you will not say, that makes me doubt you. For five years I have been at you to tell me how you make Teetgong run so fast that he beats every other horse in the land; but I might as well ask the stone in the wall. Is that a sign of true love?”

  “Indeed, goodwife,” said the goodman, “maybe it was want of trust, but not want of love. For, you see, we men think the women have a leak in their mind somewhere, perhaps in the tongue; so I thought best to keep to myself what might hurt me in telling, but could not hurt you by not knowing. But I shall tell you the whole secret. When I want Teetgong to stand, I give him a clap on the left shoulder; when I want him to ride fast, I give him two claps on the right. And when I want him to run full speed, I blow through a goose throttle. I keep the throttle in the pouch of my coat, to be handy. And when Teetgong hears that, he goes swift as a storm of wind. So, now you know all, keep your mind at ease, and let us sleep.”

  Assipittle heard all this, and lay quiet till he heard the old people snoring. He did not rest long then, I can tell you. He pulled the goose throttle out of his father’s pocket, and slipped to the stable like a thief. He bridled Teetgong and led him out. There the horse pranced and reared, knowing he was not held by his master. Assipattle clapped his hand on Teetgong’s left shoulder; then the horse stood like a rock. Assipattle jumped on his back and clapped his right shoulder. So away they went. But, when starting, the horse gave a loud, loud neigh. The neig
h awoke the goodman, for he knew the cry of his horse; he sprang up, aroused his sons, and all mounted and galloped after Teetgong, crying thief.

  The goodman was at the front of the pursuit, and he shouted:

  “Hie, hie! Ho!

  Teetgong, wo!”

  And when Teetgong heard that, he stood still. Assipattle out with the goose throttle and blew with all his might. When Teetgong heard that, he went off like the wind, so that Assipattle could scarcely hold his breath. And the goodman and his sons returned home in doleful dumps for the loss of Teetgong.

  Assipattle came near the shore as day began to light in the east. He came to a valley, and there tethered his horse. He walked till he came to a little house, where an old woman lay asleep. Here he found an old pot, in which he placed a live peat from the rested fire. And with pot and peat he went to the shore. There he saw the king’s boat on the water, fastened to a stone on the beach. In the boat sat the man whose duty it was to watch until the king came.

  “A nippy morning,” said Assipattle to the man.

  “I think I may know that,” said the man. “I have sitten here all night.”

  “Why don’t you come on shore for a run to warm yourself?” said Assipattle.

  “Because,” said the man, “if the Kemperman found me out of the boat, he would half kill me.”

  “Wise enough,” said Assipattle; “you like a cold skin better than a hot. But I must kindle a fire to roast a few limpets, for hunger is about to eat a hole in my belly.”

  And with that, he began to scrape a hole in the ground, to make a fire there. Yet in a minute he cried out, “My stars! Gold! Gold! As sure as I am the son of my mother, there’s gold in this earth!”

  When the man in the boat heard this, he jumped on shore and pushed Assipattle aside. And while the man scratched in the earth, Assipattle seized his pot, loosened the boat-rope, jumped into the boat and pushed out to sea, while the man roared to, and banned him from the land.