Scottish Traditional Tales

by A. J. Bruford

  So the next mornin, he gits up after havin a good night’s rest and everything thit he wantit an plenty to eat, an he gits up, and he mountit a beautiful horse, an . . . good sword, an he goes to face this giant wi the three heids. So when he comes into this wuid where this giant wes bidin, the same thing happens . . . the giant gives three roars ’at was like three roars of thunder, and he roar’t the same thing:

  ‘Vee, vye, vum!

  I feel the smell of an English man.

  Let him be dead,’ he says, ‘or let him be alive,

  A’ll crunge his bonns to meal.’

  Now, poor John, he was frighten’t, but still . . . he was goin to face the giant, because it was a big temptation, the money and this beautiful young wummin to marry. So he bravely went in, an he fought the giant, but the giant killed poor John, and when the great lord knew thit John wes killed, he took he’s head off; an he put it at the other side of the gate.

  But a year an a day passes, an poor Silly Jack now . . . this is all that the old wummin had left. He says, ‘God!’ he says, ‘Mither,’ he says, ‘it’s a year ’n a day,’ he says, ‘since my brither John went away,’ he says, ‘and,’ he says, ‘I wad like to ging an push my fortune tae,’ he says, ‘but I dinnae like to leave you, Mither, an it’s nae fir aa thit you hiv,’ he says. ‘Thir nae much,’ he says, ‘aboot this place, thir nae much to eat. Bit whatever,’ he says, ‘if I ging awa,’ he says, ‘Mither,’ he says, ‘it’ll leave,’ he says, ‘mair fir you,’ he says, ‘fir tae eat,’ he says. ‘And,’ he says, ‘A’ll ging awa,’ he says, ‘and A’ll try my best. An if I can mak onything,’ he says, ‘through time,’ he says, ‘A’ll send fir you. A’ll get you,’ he says. ‘And then,’ he says, ‘A’ll tak ye tae bide wi me an A’ll maybe be able to look eftir ye,’ he says, ‘when ye’re owld an done.’

  ‘Well, well, laddie,’ she says, ‘it’s aa right,’ she says, ‘you ging and try an push yir fortune,’ she says, ‘and look eftir yirsel, fir we’ve never got no word,’ she says, ‘from James or John,’ she says. ‘They’ve niver come back to let us know whether they got on or not.’

  So poor Jack says tae his mither, ‘Well,’ he says, ‘Mither, bake me a bannock,’ he says, ‘and rost me a collop.’

  She says, ‘Well, Jack,’ she says, ‘dae ye want a big bannock with a curse or a wee bannockie wi a blessin?’

  ‘Och, Goad help us!’ he says, ‘Mither, ye havenae very much . . . A’m nae greedy,’ he says, ‘I wouldna like to think,’ he says, ‘A left you,’ he says, ‘wi little. Naw, naw,’ he says, ‘bake me . . . a wee bannockie,’ he says, ‘wi a blessin, an rost me a wee collopie.’

  So, the next day he sets oot to push his fortune, an when he goes away, his poor auld mither wes broken-hertit ootowre her youngest son, and of course she wad kent she wes gaen to miss him, and she said, ‘Well, bless ye, bless ye wherever ye go.’ So away he went to push his fortune.

  So he gaes on the rodd and on the rodd, there wes rest fir the wee birds, but none fir poor Jack. He wes hungry, tire’t and wearied. But he comes to this wee wallie, and he sits doon. He saa it wes bonny waater, and he says, ‘A’ll get a fine, clean, refreshin drink here, when I eat a wee bit o ma bannock an a bit o ma collop.’ Soon as when he sits doon, eatin his bit of bannock, and eatin his bit o collop, up jump’t this wee mannie. An he says, ‘Oh, Jack,’ he says, ‘wad ye gie me the crumbs,’ he says, ’at faas fae yir mooth?’

  ‘Goad bliss us!’ he says, ‘it’s nae much to gie naebody,’ he says, ‘the crumbs that faas fae their mooth. Sit up beside me,’ he says, ‘wee mannie, an,’ he says, ‘A’ll gie you a bit of ma bannock an a bit of my collop.’ And of course he liftit up the wee mannie, set him doon beside him, an the two o them ate a bit o the collop and a bit o the bannock. It wesnae much, bit nivertheless he share’t it. So the wee mannie disappears now fir a whilie. So whan Jack lookit, insteid o watter intae the wal, as whit he saa at first, it wes the bonniest wine that iver he saa in his life, rich, very, very rich – the wal wes full o wine. So, Jack bent doon, an jist took his two hans an cupped them thegether, and drunk his bellyful o this wine an it refreshed him in many ways.

  So Jack wes goin to go away when the wee mannie appears again. So he says, ‘Jack,’ he says, ‘here’s a sword tae ye,’ he says, ‘take it and fasten it on ye,’ he says, ‘and when,’ he says, ‘when you’re tired and weariet,’ he says, ‘just put your hand upon your sword,’ he says, ‘and wish. An whitever ye wish for,’ he says, ‘you’ll get it.’ (Ye see.) So of course Jack lauched at him, an first he didnae believe it, and he’s put it roon his middle – he faistened it roon his middle, this sword, an he put it on. ‘Now,’ he says, ‘that sword’ll protect ye wherever ye go, though ye go tae other side o the world,’ he says, ‘it’ll pirtect ye. Just anything ye want,’ he says, ‘put yir hand upon yir sword an wish,’ he says, ‘an whitever ye wish fir,’ he says, ‘ye’ll get it.’ So Jack wesnae believin it, bit he faisten’t it on him, an away he goes, on the rodd.

  Bit Jack gaes on fir days and days, he’s tired an he’s weariet, an, aw, he wes jist feelin aa wrang. And he sits doon, an he wes really hungry. He had nothing now. And jist as he wes restin, his hand accidentally went on til his sword, and he thought nothing of it. Bit he wes that hungry he couldnae stick it nae langer, and he says, ‘Aw, A wish, A wish,’ he says, ‘that I had something tae eat.’ Nae sooner did Jack say that, whan up jumpit a table afront him: up in front of Jack jumpit a table. And on this table was everything thit the finest gentleman could sit down til an eat an drink, wine of every kind. Jack rubbit his eyes, he couldnae believe it. Then he remember’t his haund was on the sword. And he also remember’t what the wee mannie said til him. And he said, ‘God bless me!’ he says, ‘it is true,’ he says, ‘A didnae believe it at first. Bit there,’ he says, ‘it is true. It’s happen’t. A wished fir something tae eat,’ he says, ‘an A’ve got the best of everything.’ So he sat down an he fillt his belly. So after he was . . . his belly wes full, he took a good rest, and then he says, ‘Now, I’ve a long road to go on,’ he says, so he put his hand upon his sword, ‘I wish,’ he says, ‘that I had one o the finest horses,’ he says, ‘that ever,’ he says, ‘a man,’ he says, ‘throw’t his legs over.’ (See?) And there appeared the loveliest cray horse that ever he saw in his life, ready fir tae jump on. So Jack jumpit on this horse’s back, an he set off.

  But he come tae this castel, and he ties up his horse at the gate, an he goes right to the front door, an he asks if they could give him anything to eat. So this great lord told the fitman, ‘Take him in,’ he says, ‘I want to see him.’ So he takes him in, and he says to Jack, ‘Jack,’ he says, ‘I can give ye something to do. I’ll give ye three tasks to do, and if you can do this three tasks,’ he says, ‘fir me, I’ll give you my beautiful daughter to marry,’ he says, ‘and three bushels of gold, an,’ he says, ‘a fine castel to live in. And,’ he says, – ‘but ye’ve thir three tasks,’ he says, ‘of course. One is,’ he says, ‘to kill the giant wi the three heads, and the other one,’ he says, ‘is,’ he says, ‘to kill the fiery dragon that guards,’ he says, ‘the house thit my daughter,’ he says, ‘is intil. She’s guardit there,’ he says, ‘with a monstrous snake also,’ he says, ‘which,’ he says, ‘is a witch. And,’ he says, ‘she’s keeping my daughter,’ he says, ‘a prisoner in this house, and,’ he says, ‘ye’ve the fiery dragon to kill as well as the giant, and also,’ he says, ‘this monstrous snake. And then,’ he says, ‘when ye do that three tasks,’ he says, ‘you can free my daughter. And,’ he says, ‘you can get her to marry,’ he says. ‘She’s the beautifullest wumman in the land. And,’ he says, ‘the three bushels of gold, an,’ he says, ‘this castel to live in.’ So this wes a big temptation to Jack.

  So of course he has a good night’s rest, he feeds on the best of everything, and in the mornin he rises up fine, refresh’t an feelin good. So he mounts his horse, and of course he goes away, and he comes to this wuid and the same thing happens. The
giant gied three roars, guiders as my grandfather used to cry it, three guiders. And the very wuid shook. An he says,

  ‘Vee, vye, vum!

  I feel the smell of an English man.

  Let him be dead,’ he says, ‘or let him be alive,

  A’ll crunge his bonns tae meal.’

  Bit Jack wes brave, and he had faith now, in his sword, he knew his sword would carry him through. So he put his hand upon his sword, and he asked his sword to protect him, and he faces up tae the giant as the giant comes til ’m fir tae kill him. His sword jumpit from his side, out of its scabbart, his sword jumpit out, an his sword fought the giant an it – they fought an fought an fought, his sword and the giant – remember it wes his sword that wes fightin – and his sword first cut off one of the giant’s heads, then he cut off the next head off the giant, then the next head, an the giant wes lyin dead now.

  So of course Jack took the three heads and he put them intil a graet big bag-thing, an he carries them down to this lord’s house – this lord’s castel, should I say? And when the lord saw this, he wes pleased. So that night he had a graet feast. He wes highly pleased that this giant wes killed . . . as they were all terrified of this giant. Through time he would have destroy’t them all, you see.

  So next mornin Jack rises up. He wes feelin fine again. He mounted his cray, an he went to do his other task. But just as he came to this big mountain where the fiery dragon was, had guardit a way through this mountains, to where this young wumman wes hidden into this – I don’t know, wes’t a cave, or – it wes a cave or som’n like that, but made like a house – and he came to this fiery dragon, and it meets him as he’s comin, an the flemms of fire wes flyin from its mouth, bit Jack – Jack wes frightened when he saw it – but he put his hand upon his sword, and he says, ‘Pirtect me,’ he says, ‘fir God’s sake, protect me!’ But just as the fiery dragon wes comin, his sword jumpit out from its scabbart and hit fought the fiery dragon. So thit wes a fierce, a very, very fierce battle. But the fiery dragon was killed. So Jack took home parts of it to let the lord see that it wes killed. So that night they had a graet feast. The lord was very well pleased as it wes now – Jack wes gettin nearer to savin his lovely daughter.

  So the next mornin Jack gets up feelin good, an he mountit his cray again, an off he went fur tae meet now the monstrous snake that guardit the cave, which was turnt intil a place like a house, thit held this beautiful young lady. So Jack cam near it. An when Jack was comin near – it wes a fierce brute wi two heads upon it – it tried to attack Jack. Jack was frighten’t again, very frightened, as this wes a monstrous brute. And he put his hand on his sword, an he says, ‘Fir God’s sake,’ he says, ‘protect me!’ Just as he said that, his sword jumpit out of its scabbart and it met the snake as it riz in mid-air. And they fought and fought and fought for ages, maybe about an hour, but whitever, the sword killed the snake.

  And now Jack could go freely into this place, and free this young wumman thit wes hidden in there. And he did go intae the cave, an here was this beautiful young wumman . . . livin intil a thing like a trance – she wes intil a thing like a trance. Bit Jack got til her, an he took her til hersel. So she didnae remember anything, why she’d come to be there or what happened. She wes actually under the spell of a bad witch. You see, the snake actually wes the witch ’at guardit the place where she wes hidden. So Jack took her and he put her on his horse’s back along with hisself. So he took her right back til her father.

  So this great lord wes that pleased, they wir nothing too good fir Jack. So he says, ‘Now,’ he says, ‘you did your three tasks, and,’ he says, ‘you’ve won my beautiful daughter. And the three bushels of gold,’ he says, ‘and the castel to live in.’ So he says, ‘You an my daughter can be marriet now, any time.’

  So Jack marriet the beautiful lady an got his castel to live in. So he went an fetched to the castel his poor old mother, thit wes dressed in rags and had very, very little tae eat. So he took her home an made her like a lady, and she lived in the castel with Jack till she died.

  So, ye see, it wis nut the poor simple son thit wis really supposed to be silly, thit wis silly. The simple son thit could ’live’t on little fir the sake o helpin his poor mither, and he gain’t everything, where the ither two brithers, that wis greedy and only live’t fir theirsel, lost their lifes an got their heids put at each side o the lord’s gate of his castel.

  So that’s the story as we used to get tell’t it whan ma grandfather told it til us children.

  8 Elizabeth MacKinnon Annie Johnston

  THE TALE OF THE BROWN CALF

  ONCE UPON A TIME there was a nobleman, and he married a beautiful, elegant woman who had no equal in the country. When she put on her finery he thought she was as beautiful as the bright summer sun, and one to be envied by every woman in the place. Her husband was so proud of her that he thought nothing on earth was beautiful enough for her, and he gave her a dress of starlight, a dress of the down of birds and a dress of moss cotton. He also gave her a gold shoe and a silver shoe, and a comb which left one side of her head gold and one side silver when she combed her hair. They had three daughters, and they were as happy as the day is long.

  At last it came about that the lady died, and melancholy and grief fell upon the nobleman. He bound himself by oaths and vows that he would never marry another woman but the one whom his wife’s golden shoe would fit. He gathered together every woman in the country, young and old, and he tried the gold shoe on every one of them, but it fitted none of them. In the end he brought in his own three daughters to the room to try the shoe on them. He tried it on the eldest daughter, but it would not go over the tips of her toes. He tried it on the second daughter, but it would not go on her big toe. He tried it on the youngest, and her foot was as if it had grown inside it. He was bound by oaths and vows, and he had to marry his own daughter.

  She was quite prostrated when she heard that she must do this. She took to her bed in sorrow, saying to herself that she would rather death itself than yield to her father’s will. Night came, and she was on her own in the dark room, when she heard something moving under her window. She looked out, and what was there but a brown calf.

  ‘There are you, poor lassie,’ said the brown calf, ‘sad and sorrowful, and here am I to help you. Make ready and prepare to go along with me. Your mother’s chest is in the corner of the room, with all her finery in it. Bring it with you and come outside, and I shall carry you to a place where you will be free from your father’s vows.’

  When the girl heard this, she gathered up her own belongings and her mother’s chest, and she was out through the window in a flash. She put the chest on the brown calf’s back and sat beside it herself, and they made off.

  The brown calf travelled and travelled for three days and three nights over mountain, hill and moor, till they came close to a fine big city with a king’s castle right in the middle of it. The brown calf halted on a little green hillock near the town and said, ‘Now, you must come down from my back here and lift down the chest, and we’ll bury it in this hillock. You must go in to the king’s castle and ask for work there, and don’t refuse any work that they give you to do.’

  The girl did as the calf asked her, and she got work in the king’s scullery, where she stayed from dawn to dusk washing the pots and dishes.

  One day word went round the town that the king’s son was going to hold a grand glittering gathering, and every girl in the town got an invitation. The night of the great gathering came, and what a fuss the young women of the town made as they got themselves ready to go to the palace. After all the guests had assembled, the girl was on her own in the scullery, when she heard something moving under the window, and who was there but the brown calf. ‘Why are you not at the gathering tonight?’ said he.

  ‘Because,’ she replied, ‘I never got an invitation. I’m only the poor servant-girl who works in the scullery.’

  ‘You come with me,’ said he, ‘and I’ll take you to the gathering.�
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  She went with the brown calf, and they got to the hillock where the chest was buried. They dug up the chest and the brown calf took out the dress of birds’ down which had belonged to her mother, and he put it on the girl, together with the gold shoe and the silver shoe, and when she had combed her head with the comb which left one side of it gold and one silver, there was none in the hall who could surpass her.

  ‘Now,’ said the brown calf, ‘go into the ballroom, and I warrant you no-one to match you will set foot on the floor tonight. And when you are tired of dancing, come out, and I’ll be waiting for you.’

  The girl went in, and when she did every eye below the roof of the building stood still to gaze on her beauty. The king’s son himself came to ask the favour of a dance with her, and he never let her quit the floor all night. A little before the gathering was due to finish, she took her chance while no-one was looking, and slipped out without anyone noticing. The brown calf was waiting for her at the main door. He carried her off to the hillock where the chest was hidden, the fine clothes were put back in the chest and it was buried where it had been before, and the girl was back in her rags in the scullery when the ball broke up.

  The king’s son was vexed that he had lost sight of her, because he had fallen so deeply in love with her that he would get neither sleep by night nor peace by day until he saw her again. He sent out a proclamation that he would hold another great gathering the next evening, and he wanted everyone who had been at the first gathering to come to the second one. It was rumoured that the king’s son had fallen in love with one of the girls, and every girl hoped and wished that it was herself.

  The servant in the scullery was washing and scraping the pots as usual when she heard something moving under the window, and who was there but the brown calf. “Here, here,” said he, “get ready and let’s go to the gathering.”