for she felt that her rent was safe; and in her relief and gratitude she
would have kissed the hem of the strange Lady's green gown, if she
would have allowed it, but she would not.
"No, no," said she, and her voice sounded harsher than ever. "Let us
have no fine meanderings, but let us stick to our bargain. I have done
my part, and mended the pig; now ye must do yours, and give me what I
like to ask--your son."
Then the poor widow gave a piteous cry, for she knew now what she had
not guessed before--that the Green-clad Lady was a Fairy, and a Wicked
Fairy too, else had she not asked such a terrible thing.
It was too late now, however, to pray, and beseech, and beg for mercy;
the Fairy stood her ground, hard and cruel.
"Ye promised me what I liked to ask, and I have asked your son; and your
son I will have," she replied, "so it is useless making such a din about
it. But one thing I may tell you, for I know well that the knowledge
will not help you. By the laws of Fairy-land, I cannot take the bairn
till the third day after this, and if by that time you have found out my
name I cannot take him even then. But ye will not be able to find it
out, of that I am certain. So I will call back for the boy in three
days."
And with that she disappeared round the back of the pig-sty, and the
poor mother fell down in a dead faint beside the stone.
All that day, and all the next, she did nothing but sit in her kitchen
and cry, and hug her baby tighter in her arms; but on the day before
that on which the Fairy said that she was coming back, she felt as if
she must get a little breath of fresh air, so she went for a walk in the
fir wood behind the house.
Now in this fir wood there was an old quarry hole, in the bottom of
which was a bonnie spring well, the water of which was always sweet and
pure. The young widow was walking near this quarry hole, when, to her
astonishment, she heard the whirr of a spinning-wheel and the sound of a
voice lilting a song. At first she could not think where the sound came
from; then, remembering the quarry, she laid down her child at a tree
root, and crept noiselessly through the bushes on her hands and knees to
the edge of the hole and peeped over.
She could hardly believe her eyes! For there, far below her, at the
bottom of the quarry, beside the spring well, sat the cruel Fairy,
dressed in her green frock and tall felt hat, spinning away as fast as
she could at a tiny spinning-wheel.
And what should she be singing but--
"Little kens our guid dame at hame,
Whippety-Stourie is my name."
The widow woman almost cried aloud for joy, for now she had learned the
Fairy's secret, and her child was safe. But she dare not, in case the
wicked old Dame heard her and threw some other spell over her.
So she crept softly back to the place where she had left her child;
then, catching him up in her arms, she ran through the wood to her
house, laughing, and singing, and tossing him in the air in such a state
of delight that, if anyone had met her, they would have been in danger
of thinking that she was mad.
Now this young woman had been a merry-hearted maiden, and would have
been merry-hearted still, if, since her marriage, she had not had so
much trouble that it had made her grow old and sober-minded before her
time; and she began to think what fun it would be to tease the Fairy for
a few minutes before she let her know that she had found out her name.
So next day, at the appointed time, she went out with her boy in her
arms, and seated herself on the big stone where she had sat before; and
when she saw the old Dame coming up the hill, she crumpled up her nice
clean cap, and screwed up her face, and pretended to be in great
distress and to be crying bitterly.
The Fairy took no notice of this, however, but came close up to her, and
said, in her harsh, merciless voice, "Good wife of Kittlerumpit, ye ken
the reason of my coming; give me the bairn."
Then the young mother pretended to be in sorer distress than ever, and
fell on her knees before the wicked old woman and begged for mercy.
"Oh, sweet Madam Mistress," she cried, "spare me my bairn, and take, an'
thou wilt, the pig instead."
"We have no need of bacon where I come from," answered the Fairy coldly;
"so give me the laddie and let me begone--I have no time to waste in
this wise."
"Oh, dear Lady mine," pleaded the Goodwife, "if thou wilt not have the
pig, wilt thou not spare my poor bairn and take me myself?"
The Fairy stepped back a little, as if in astonishment. "Art thou mad,
woman," she cried contemptuously, "that thou proposest such a thing? Who
in all the world would care to take a plain-looking, red-eyed, dowdy
wife like thee with them?"
Now the young Mistress of Kittlerumpit knew that she was no beauty, and
the knowledge had never vexed her; but something in the Fairy's tone
made her feel so angry that she could contain herself no longer.
"In troth, fair Madam, I might have had the wit to know that the like of
me is not fit to tie the shoe-string of the High and Mighty Princess,
WHIPPETY-STOURIE!"
If there had been a charge of gunpowder buried in the ground, and if it
had suddenly exploded beneath her feet, the Wicked Fairy could not have
jumped higher into air.
And when she came down again she simply turned round and ran down the
brae, shrieking with rage and disappointment, for all the world, as an
old book says, "like an owl chased by witches."
[Illustration]
THE RED-ETIN
There were once two widows who lived in two cottages which stood not
very far from one another. And each of those widows possessed a piece of
land on which she grazed a cow and a few sheep, and in this way she made
her living.
One of these poor widows had two sons, the other had one; and as these
three boys were always together, it was natural that they should become
great friends.
At last the time arrived when the eldest son of the widow who had two
sons, must leave home and go out into the world to seek his fortune. And
the night before he went away his mother told him to take a can and go
to the well and bring back some water, and she would bake a cake for him
to carry with him.
"But remember," she added, "the size of the cake will depend on the
quantity of water that thou bringest back. If thou bringest much, then
will it be large; and, if thou bringest little, then will it be small.
But, big or little, it is all that I have to give thee."
The lad took the can and went off to the well, and filled it with
water, and came home again. But he never noticed that the can had a hole
in it, and was running out; so that, by the time that he arrived at
home, there was very little water left. So his mother could only bake
him a very little cake.
But, small as it was, she asked him, as she gave it to him, to choose
one of two things. Either to take the half of it with her blessing, or
the whole of it with her malison. "For," said she, "thou canst not have
both the whole cake and a blessing along with it."
The lad looked at the cake and hesitated. It would have been pleasant to
have left home with his mother's blessing upon him; but he had far to
go, and the cake was little; the half of it would be a mere mouthful,
and he did not know when he would get any more food. So at last he made
up his mind to take the whole of it, even if he had to bear his mother's
malison.
Then he took his younger brother aside, and gave him his hunting-knife,
saying, "Keep this by thee, and look at it every morning. For as long as
the blade remains clear and bright, thou wilt know that it is well with
me; but should it grow dim and rusty, then know thou that some evil hath
befallen me."
After this he embraced them both and set out on his travels. He
journeyed all that day, and all the next, and on the afternoon of the
third day he came to where an old shepherd was sitting beside a flock of
sheep.
"I will ask the old man whose sheep they are," he said to himself, "for
mayhap his master might engage me also as a shepherd." So he went up to
the old man, and asked him to whom the sheep belonged. And this was all
the answer he got:
"The Red-Etin of Ireland
Ance lived in Ballygan,
And stole King Malcolm's daughter,
The King of fair Scotland.
He beats her, he binds her,
He lays her on a band,
And every day he dings her
With a bright silver wand.
Like Julian the Roman,
He's one that fears no man.
"It's said there's ane predestinate
To be his mortal foe,
But that man is yet unborn,
And lang may it be so."
"That does not tell me much; but somehow I do not fancy this Red-Etin
for a master," thought the youth, and he went on his way.
He had not gone very far, however, when he saw another old man, with
snow-white hair, herding a flock of swine; and as he wondered to whom
the swine belonged, and if there was any chance of him getting a
situation as a swineherd, he went up to the countryman, and asked who
was the owner of the animals.
He got the same answer from the swineherd that he had got from the
shepherd:
"The Red-Etin of Ireland
Ance lived in Ballygan,
And stole King Malcolm's daughter,
The King of fair Scotland.
He beats her, he binds her,
He lays her on a band,
And every day he dings her
With a bright silver wand.
Like Julian the Roman,
He's one that fears no man.
"It's said there's ane predestinate
To be his mortal foe,
But that man is yet unborn,
And lang may it be so."
"Plague on this old Red-Etin; I wonder when I will get out of his
domains," he muttered to himself; and he journeyed still further.
Presently he came to a very, very old man--so old, indeed, that he was
quite bent with age--and he was herding a flock of goats.
Once more the traveller asked to whom the animals belonged, and once
more he got the same answer:
"The Red-Etin of Ireland
Ance lived in Ballygan,
And stole King Malcolm's daughter,
The King of fair Scotland.
He beats her, he binds her,
He lays her on a band,
And every day he dings her
With a bright silver wand.
Like Julian the Roman,
He's one that fears no man.
"It's said there's ane predestinate
To be his mortal foe,
But that man is yet unborn,
And lang may it be so."
But this ancient goatherd added a piece of advice at the end of his
rhyme. "Beware, stranger," he said, "of the next herd of beasts that ye
shall meet. Sheep, and swine, and goats will harm nobody; but the
creatures ye shall now encounter are of a sort that ye have never met
before, and _they_ are not harmless."
The young man thanked him for his counsel, and went on his way, and he
had not gone very far before he met a herd of very dreadful creatures,
unlike anything that he had ever dreamed of in all his life.
For each of them had three heads, and on each of its three heads it had
four horns; and when he saw them he was so frightened that he turned and
ran away from them as fast as he could.
Up hill and down dale he ran, until he was well-nigh exhausted; and,
just when he was beginning to feel that his legs would not carry him any
further, he saw a great Castle in front of him, the door of which was
standing wide open.
He was so tired that he went straight in, and after wandering through
some magnificent halls, which appeared to be quite deserted, he reached
the kitchen, where an old woman was sitting by the fire.
He asked her if he might have a night's lodging, as he had come a long
and weary journey, and would be glad of somewhere to rest.
"You can rest here, and welcome, for me," said the old Dame, "but for
your own sake I warn you that this is an ill house to bide in; for it is
the Castle of the Red-Etin, who is a fierce and terrible Monster with
three heads, and he spareth neither man nor woman, if he can get hold of
them."
Tired as he was, the young man would have made an effort to escape from
such a dangerous abode had he not remembered the strange and awful
beasts from which he had just been fleeing, and he was afraid that, as
it was growing dark, if he set out again he might chance to walk right
into their midst. So he begged the old woman to hide him in some dark
corner, and not to tell the Red-Etin that he was in the Castle.
"For," thought he, "if I can only get shelter until the morning, I will
then be able to avoid these terrible creatures and go on my way in
peace."
So the old Dame hid him in a press under the back stairs, and, as there
was plenty of room in it, he settled down quite comfortably for the
night.
But just as he was going off to sleep he heard an awful roaring and
trampling overhead. The Red-Etin had come home, and it was plain that he
was searching for something.
And the terrified youth soon found out what the "Something" was, for
very soon the horrible Monster came into the kitchen, crying out in a
voice like thunder:
"Seek but, and seek ben,
I smell the smell of an earthly man!
Be he living, or be he dead,
His heart this night I shall eat with my bread."
And it was not very long before he discovered the poor young man's
hiding-place and pulled him roughly out of it.
Of course, the lad begged that his life might be spared, but the Monster
only laughed at him.
"It will be spared if thou canst answer three questions," he said; "if
not, it is forfeited."
The first of these three questions was, "Whether Ireland or Scotland was
first inhabited?"
The second, "How old was the world when Adam was made?"
And the third, "Whether men or beasts were created first?"
The lad was not skilled in such matters, having had but little
book-learning, and he could not answer the questions. So the Monster
struck him on the head with a queer little hammer which he carried, and
turned him into a piece of stone.
Now every morning since he had left home his younger brother had done as
he had promised, and had carefully examined his hunting-knife.
On the first two mornings it was bright and clear, but on the third
morning he was very much distressed to find that it was dull and rusty.
He looked at it for a few moments in great dismay; then he ran straight
to his mother, and held it out to her.
"By this token I know that some mischief hath befallen my brother," he
said, "so I must set out at once to see what evil hath come upon him."
"First must thou go to the well and fetch me some water," said his
mother, "that I may bake thee a cake to carry with thee, as I baked a
cake for him who is gone. And I will say to thee what I said to him.
That the cake will be large or small according as thou bringest much or
little water back with thee."
So the lad took the can, as his brother had done, and went off to the
well, and it seemed as if some evil spirit directed him to follow his
example in all things, for he brought home little water, and he chose
the whole cake and his mother's malison, instead of the half and her
blessing, and he set out and met the shepherd, and the swineherd, and
the goatherd, and they all gave the same answers to him which they had
given to his brother. And he also encountered the same fierce beasts,
and ran from them in terror, and took shelter from them in the Castle;
and the old woman hid him, and the Red-Etin found him, and, because he
could not answer the three questions, he, too, was turned into a pillar
of stone.
And no more would ever have been heard of these two youths had not a
kind Fairy, who had seen all that had happened, appeared to the other
widow and her son, as they were sitting at supper one night in the
gloaming, and told them the whole story, and how their two poor young
neighbours had been turned into pillars of stone by a cruel enchanter
called Red-Etin.
Now the third young man was both brave and strong, and he determined to
set out to see if he could in anywise help his two friends. And, from
the very first moment that he had made up his mind to do so, things went
differently with him than they had with them. I think, perhaps, that
this was because he was much more loving and thoughtful than they were.
For, when his mother sent him to fetch water from the well so that she
might bake a cake for him, just as the other mother had done for her
sons, a raven, flying above his head, croaked out that his can was
leaking, and he, wishing to please his mother by bringing her a good
supply of water, patched up the hole with clay, and so came home with
the can quite full.
Then, when his mother had baked a big bannock for him, and giving him
his choice between the whole cake and her malison, or half of it and her
blessing, he chose the latter, "for," said he, throwing his arms round
her neck, "I may light on other cakes to eat, but I will never light on
another blessing such as thine."
And the curious thing was, that, after he had said this, the half cake
which he had chosen seemed to spread itself out, and widen, and broaden,
till it was bigger by far than it had been at first.
Then he started on his journey, and, after he had gone a good way he
began to feel hungry. So he pulled it out of his pocket and began to eat
it.
Just then he met an old woman, who seemed to be very poor, for her
clothing was thin, and worn, and old, and she stopped and spoke to him.
"Of thy charity, kind Master," she said, stretching out one of her
withered hands, "spare me a bit of the cake that thou art eating."
Now the youth was very hungry, and he could have eaten it all himself,
but his kind heart was touched by the woman's pinched face, so he broke
it in two, and gave her half of it.
Instantly she was changed into the Fairy who had appeared to his mother
and himself as they had sat at supper the night before, and she smiled
graciously at the generous lad, and held out a little wand to him.
"Though thou knowest it not, thy mother's blessing and thy kindness to
an old and poor woman hath gained thee many blessings, brave boy," he
said. "Keep that as thy reward; thou wilt need it ere thy errand be
done." Then, bidding him sit down on the grass beside her, she told him
all the dangers that he would meet on his travels, and the way in which
he could overcome them, and then, in a moment, before he could thank
her, she vanished out of his sight.
But with the little wand, and all the instructions that she had given
him, he felt that he could face fearlessly any danger that he might be
called on to meet, so he rose from the grass and went his way, full of a
cheerful courage.
After he had walked for many miles further, he came, as each of his
friends had done, to the old shepherd herding his sheep. And, like them,
he asked to whom the sheep belonged. And this time the old man answered:
"The Red-Etin of Ireland
Ance lived in Ballygan,
And stole King Malcolm's daughter,
The King of fair Scotland.
He beats her, he binds her,
He lays her on a band,
And every day he dings her
With a bright silver wand.
Like Julian the Roman,
He's one that fears no man.
"But now I fear his end is near,
And destiny at hand;
And you're to be, I plainly see,
The heir of all his land."
Then the young man went on, and he came to the swineherd, and to the
goatherd; and each of them in turn repeated the same words to him.
And, when he came to where the droves of monstrous beasts were, he was
not afraid of them, and when one came running up to him with its mouth
wide open to devour him, he just struck it with his wand, and it dropped
down dead at his feet.
At last he arrived at the Red-Etin's Castle, and he knocked boldly at
the door. The old woman answered his knock, and, when he had told her
his errand, warned him gravely not to enter.
"Thy two friends came here before thee," she said, "and they are now
turned into two pillars of stone; what advantage is it to thee to lose
thy life also?"
But the young man only laughed. "I have knowledge of an art of which
they knew nothing," he said. "And methinks I can fight the Red-Etin with
his own weapons."
So, much against her will, the old woman let him in, and hid him where
she had hid his friends.
It was not long before the Monster arrived, and, as on former occasions,
he came into the kitchen in a furious rage, crying:
"Seek but, and seek ben,
I smell the smell of an earthly man!
Be he living, or be he dead,
His heart this night I shall eat with my bread."
Then he peered into the young man's hiding-place, and called to him to
come out. And after he had come out, he put to him the three questions,
never dreaming that he could answer them; but the Fairy had told the
youth what to say, and he gave the answers as pat as any book.
Then the Red-Etin's heart sank within him for fear, for he knew that
someone had betrayed him, and that his power was gone.
And gone in very truth it was. For when the youth took an axe and began
to fight with him, he had no strength to resist, and, before he knew
where he was, his heads were cut off. And that was the end of the
Red-Etin.
As soon as he saw that his enemy was really dead, the young man asked
the old woman if what the shepherd, and the swineherd, and the goatherd
had told him were true, and if King Malcolm's daughter were really a
prisoner in the Castle.
The old woman nodded. "Even with the Monster lying dead at my feet, I am
almost afraid to speak of it," she said. "But come with me, my gallant
gentleman, and thou wilt see what dule and misery the Red-Etin hath
caused to many a home."
She took a huge bunch of keys, and led him up a long flight of stairs,
which ended in a passage with a great many doors on each side of it. She
unlocked these doors with her keys, and, as she opened them, she put her
head into every room and said, "Ye have naught to fear now, Madam, the
Predestinated Deliverer hath come, and the Red-Etin is dead."
[Illustration: And that was the end of the Red-Etin]
And behold, with a cry of joy, out of every room came a beautiful lady
who had been stolen from her home, and shut up there, by the Red-Etin.
Among them was one who was more beautiful and stately than the rest, and
all the others bowed down to her and treated her with such great
reverence that it was clear to see that she was the Royal Princess, King
Malcolm's daughter.
And when the youth stepped forward and did reverence to her also, she
spoke so sweetly to him, and greeted him so gladly, and called him her
Deliverer, in such a low, clear voice, that his heart was taken captive
at once.
But, for all that, he did not forget his friends. He asked the old woman
where they were, and she took him into a room at the end of the passage,
which was so dark that one could scarcely see in it, and so low that one
could scarcely stand upright.
In this dismal chamber stood two blocks of stone.
"One can unlock doors, young Master," said the old woman, shaking her
head forebodingly, "but 'tis hard work to try to turn cauld stane back
to flesh and blood."
"Nevertheless, I will do it," said the youth, and, lifting his little
wand, he touched each of the stone pillars lightly on the top.
Instantly the hard stone seemed to soften and melt away, and the two
brothers started into life and form again. Their gratitude to their
friend, who had risked so much to save them, knew no bounds, while he,
on his part, was delighted to think that his efforts had been
successful.
The next thing to do was to convey the Princess and the other ladies
(who were all noblemen's daughters) back to the King's Court, and this
they did next day.
King Malcolm was so overjoyed to see his dearly loved daughter, whom he
had given up for dead, safe and sound, and so grateful to her deliverer,
that he said that he should become his son-in-law and marry the
Princess, and come and live with them at Court. Which all came to pass
in due time; while as for the two other young men, they married
noblemen's daughters, and the two old mothers came to live near their
sons, and everyone was as happy as they could possibly be.
[Illustration]
THE SEAL CATCHER AND THE MERMAN
Once upon a time there was a man who lived not very far from John o'
Groat's house, which, as everyone knows, is in the very north of
Scotland. He lived in a little cottage by the sea-shore, and made his
living by catching seals and selling their fur, which is very valuable.
He earned a good deal of money in this way, for these creatures used to
come out of the sea in large numbers, and lie on the rocks near his
house basking in the sunshine, so that it was not difficult to creep up
behind them and kill them.
Some of those seals were larger than others, and the country people used
to call them "Roane," and whisper that they were not seals at all, but
Mermen and Merwomen, who came from a country of their own, far down
under the ocean, who assumed this strange disguise in order that they
might pass through the water, and come up to breathe the air of this
earth of ours.
But the seal catcher only laughed at them, and said that those seals
were most worth killing, for their skins were so big that he got an
extra price for them.
Now it chanced one day, when he was pursuing his calling, that he
stabbed a seal with his hunting-knife, and whether the stroke had not
been sure enough or not, I cannot say, but with a loud cry of pain the
creature slipped off the rock into the sea, and disappeared under the
water, carrying the knife along with it.