Folk Tales of Scotland (10 page)

‘Come here, and lay down your weariness,’ she said.

He lay down beside her and soon fell asleep. When he awoke she had gone, but the byre was thatched with feathers, and no two were the same colour.

‘You’ve thatched the byre, King’s son,’ said the giant as he came in.

‘I have,’ said the Prince.

‘Someone has thatched it,’ said the giant. ‘Well now, there’s a fir tree by the loch, and on its branches a magpie’s nest with five eggs in it. Bring them to me by
this time tomorrow.’

The Prince was up before the sun. He went round and round the fir tree, trying to find a foothold, till he was blinded by sweat. Then the giant’s youngest daughter came to him.

‘You’re losing the skin off your hands,’ she said.

‘I’m no sooner up than I’m down,’ said he.

‘There’s no time to lose,’ she said, putting her fingers, like nails, one after the other into the tree, making footholds up to the magpie’s nest. He climbed the tree and
took the eggs.

‘Make haste!’ she cried. ‘I feel my father’s breath burning my neck.’ In her hurry she left the little finger of her right hand in the
tree.

‘Take the eggs to my father,’ she said. ‘Tonight he’ll give you the choice of his three daughters. We’ll be dressed alike, but choose the one whose little finger is
missing.’

So the Prince gave the eggs to the giant.

‘Now you can choose your wife,’ the giant said.

The giant presented his three daughters, dressed exactly alike, and the Prince chose the one whose little finger was missing. They were married, but when night came, she said:

‘We must fly, or my father will kill you. Go saddle the grey filly while I play a trick on him.’

She took nine apples. She put two at the head of her bed, two at the foot of her bed, two at the bedroom door, two at the house door and one in the garden. Then they mounted the grey filly, and
rode away.

The giant woke up.

‘Are you asleep?’ he called.

‘Not yet,’ said the apples at the head of the bed.

‘Are you asleep?’ he called, after a while.

‘Not yet,’ said the apples at the foot of the bed.

‘Are you asleep?’ he called again.

‘Not yet,’ said the apples at the bedroom door.

‘Are you asleep?’ the giant called later.

‘Not yet,’ said the apples at the house door.

‘You are going away,’ said the giant.

‘Not yet,’ said the apple in the garden.

At that, the giant jumped out of bed and, finding the Prince and his bride had gone, ran after them.

In the mouth of the day, the giant’s daughter said her father’s breath was burning her neck.

‘Quickly, put your hand in the grey filly’s ear!’ said she.

‘There’s a twig of blackthorn,’ said he.

‘Throw it behind you!’ said she.

No sooner had he done this than there sprang up twenty miles of blackthorn wood, so thick that a weasel could not go through.

The giant came striding headlong, and fleeced his head and neck in the thorns.

‘More of my daughter’s tricks!’ said he. ‘If I had my big axe and wood knife, I wouldn’t be long making my way through this.’

He went home for his big axe and wood knife. He was not long returning, and soon made his way through the blackthorn.

‘I’ll leave the axe and wood knife here till I return,’ said he.

‘If you leave them, we’ll steal them,’ said a hoodie in a tree.

‘Then I’ll take them home,’ said the giant, took them back to his house, and left them there.

In the heat of the day, the giant’s daughter said:

‘I feel my father’s breath burning my neck. Put your hand in the filly’s ear, and whatever you find there, throw it behind you!’

He found a splinter of grey stone, and threw it behind him. At once there sprang up twenty miles of grey rock, high and broad as a range of mountains. The giant came full pelt after them, but
past the rock he could not go.

‘My daughter’s tricks are hard to bear,’ said he, ‘but if I had my lever and my big mattock, I’d make my way through this rock in no time.’

There was no help for it. He had to return for his lever and mattock. But he was not long returning, and was through the rock in no time.

‘I’ll just leave the tools here,’ said he.

‘If you do, we’ll steal them,’ said a hoodie perched on the rock.

‘Steal them if you want to,’ said the giant. ‘There’s no time to go back with them.’

Meanwhile, the Prince and the giant’s daughter rode on.

‘I feel my father’s breath burning my neck,’ said she. ‘Put your hand in the filly’s ear, King’s son, and whatever you find there, throw behind
you!’

This time he found a thimble of water. He threw it behind him, and at once there was a fresh-water loch, twenty miles in length and breadth.

The giant came on, but was running so quickly he did not stop till he was in the middle of the loch, where he sank and did not come up.

Next day the Prince and his wife came in sight of his father’s house.

‘Before we go farther, go in to your father and tell him about me. But don’t let any man or creature kiss you. If you do, you’ll forget me.’

He was given a warm welcome at his father’s house. He asked them not to kiss him, but before he could say more, his old greyhound jumped up and licked his mouth. After that he forgot the
giant’s daughter.

She sat beside a well where the Prince had left her, but he did not return. In the mouth of night, she climbed into the fork of an oak tree by the well, and lay there.

Next day, a shoemaker, who lived near by, asked his wife to fetch him a jug of water. At the well she saw, in the water, the reflection of the giant’s daughter and thought it was herself.
She had not imagined till now that she was so beautiful, so she threw away the jug and went home.

‘Where is the water?’ said the shoemaker.

‘You stupid old man,’ said she, ‘I’ve been too long your wood-and-water slave!’

‘I’m thinking, wife, that you’ve gone crazy,’ said he. ‘Go, daughter, and fetch your father a drink.’

His daughter went, and the same thing happened to her when she saw the reflection in the water. She had not imagined till then that she was so bonny and, without fetching any water, she went
home.

‘Where’s my drink?’ said the shoemaker.

‘You homespun old man,’ said she, ‘do you think I’m fit only to be your slave?’

The poor shoemaker thought they had lost their wits, and went to the well himself. There he saw the lass’s reflection in the water. Looking up at the tree, he saw the fairest woman he had
ever seen.

‘You’ve a bonny face,’ said the shoemaker. ‘Come down, for I need you at my house.’

The shoemaker knew that this was the reflection that had driven his family crazy. He took her to his house, and gave her a share of everything.

One day, three young men came to have shoes made for the Prince, who was soon to be married. They saw the giant’s daughter.

‘You’ve a bonny daughter,’ they said.

‘She is that,’ said he, ‘but she’s no daughter of mine.’

‘By St Crispin,’ said one of them, ‘I’d give a hundred pounds to marry her.’ And his companions said the same.

‘It has nothing to do with me,’ said the shoemaker.

‘Ask her tonight,’ they said, ‘and tell us tomorrow.’

The giant’s daughter heard this.

‘Follow them,’ she said. ‘I’ll marry one of them, but tell him to bring his purse with him.’

The first young man returned, giving the shoemaker a hundred pounds for tocher.

When they went to rest, the lass lay down and asked the young man for a drink of water from the jug on the table. But his hands stuck to the jug, and the jug stuck to the table, so that he could
not move till daylight. He went away ashamed, and did not tell his friends what had happened to him.

The next evening the second young man came, bringing a hundred pounds as tocher for the shoemaker. When they went to rest, the lass said to the young man:

‘See if the latch is fastened.’

But the latch stuck to his hands, and he could not move till daylight. He too went away, and did not tell the third young man what had happened.

Then the third man came, and the same thing happened to him. His feet stuck to the ground. He could neither come nor go, and there he stayed till daybreak. That morning he went away and did not
look behind him.

‘Now,’ said the giant’s daughter, ‘the sporran of gold is yours, shoemaker. I don’t need it. It’ll help you and reward you for your
kindness.’

Now the shoemaker had finished the shoes for the Prince’s wedding and was making ready to take them to the castle.

‘I would like to peep at the King’s son,’ said the giant’s daughter.

‘Come with me then,’ said the shoemaker. ‘I know the servants at the castle and you’ll get a peep at the Prince.’

When the people at Court saw this beautiful young woman, they gave her a glass of wine. As she was about to drink, a flame sprang out of the glass, and a golden pigeon and a silver pigeon flew
out of the flame. The pigeons were flying about the hall when three grains of barley fell on the floor. The silver pigeon alighted and ate them.

‘When I cleaned the byre,’ said the golden pigeon, ‘you wouldn’t have eaten without giving me a share.’

Three other grains of barley fell. The silver pigeon alighted and ate them up.

‘When I thatched the byre,’ said the golden pigeon, ‘you wouldn’t have eaten without giving me a share.’

Three other grains of barley fell. The silver pigeon ate them up too.

‘When I harried the magpie’s nest,’ said the golden pigeon, ‘I lost my little claw in the tree.’

Then the King’s son noticed that the little finger of the young woman’s right hand was missing. At last he remembered, and kissed her from hand to mouth.

NE
night, long after her husband and family were in bed, a rich farmer’s wife was
finishing some cloth she was weaving.

‘Oh that I had some help with this cloth!’ she said aloud.

At once there was a knock on the door.

‘Inary, good housewife, open the door and I’ll help you!’

A little old woman dressed in green came in, and sat down at the spinning-wheel. There was a second knock at the door.

‘Inary, good housewife, open the door and I’ll help you!’

And another little woman dressed in green came in, and sat down at the distaff. There was a third knock on the door.

‘Inary, good housewife, open the door and I’ll help you!’

And the third little woman dressed in green came in, and sat down to card the wool. Then there was a fourth knock at the door.

‘Inary, good housewife, open the door, and I’ll help you!’

Another little woman in green came in, and sat down to tease the wool. There was a fifth knock on the door.

‘Inary, good housewife, open the door and I’ll help you!’

And the fifth little woman in green came in and sat down to pull the wool. A sixth and a seventh and an eighth and a ninth and a tenth, and many more weird little women and men came in, and went
to work with distaff, cards, spinning-wheel and loom. The house was full of fairies teasing, carding, pulling and rolling. The fulling-water was boiling over,
as they were busy
with the cloth, fulling and cleansing it with soap and fuller’s earth.

Among the whirr and rasp and rustle and thrum, the good housewife prepared a meal for all her busy little helpers. But the more they worked the hungrier they grew, till the sweat poured off the
goodwife’s face, as she cooked at the fire for them.

At midnight, she tried to waken the goodman, but he slept like a millstone. Then she thought of a wise man who might help her. So, leaving the fairies eating her newly baked loaves, she slipped
out of the house.

‘As long as you live,’ said the wise man, ‘don’t wish for anything without thinking about it well beforehand, in case your wish is granted and brings bad luck. Your
husband is under a spell, and before you can waken him, your visitors must leave the house, and then you must sprinkle some fulling-water over your goodman.’

‘How can I rid myself of my strange visitors?’ she asked.

‘Return home,’ said the wise man, ‘stand on the knowe beside your door, and shout three times: “Burg Hill’s on fire!” The fairies will all rush out to look.
As soon as they are all outside, reverse, invert, put everything topsy-turvy and mixter-maxter.’