The very next day de Soulis went off riding with twenty o his men. Doon by the side o the Teviot Water they came across Marion oot riding with her maidens an a few men, who were close by hunting red deer. De Soulis led his men towards the group o women. As hae drew up tae Marion hae lifted her clean oot o her saddle an on tae his ain horse. The breath was knocked oot o her because de Soulis had her in such a powerful grip. Hae then took his whip an scudded the flank o her horse tae chase it away. Laughing in delight, hae said tae her, ‘I have ye at last ma sweet wee bird. Nae mortal man can take ye frae me now, let alone yer young beardless wonder. Now ye have a proper man.’ Then hae pressed his lips tae her’s, an kissed her long an hard, whilst she screamed, scratched an tried tae wriggle oot o his grasp.
They rode rapidly back tae Hermitage Castle an de Soulis snecked her in barred but comfortable chambers, that only had a view o the moat. She wept an pleaded wi de Soulis tae have mercy an set her free but tae nae avail. An when she was left on her ain she prayed an prayed for aw she was worth. Finally she swore that the Heavens would have their vengence on him for what hae was doing tae her. As de Soulis gazed upon her it was as if her guidness shoogled an fankled him in some unfathomable way. Her purity, her sweetness, she was, after aw, little mair than a bairn. Perhaps it was the feelings that she evoked in him, hae was ill prepared for their full implications.
On the third night hae took a hold o her an carried her doon tae the deepest derkest dungeon. Whilst hae reached for the muckle key on his belt the dying whimpers o the poor beasts could still be heard echoing roond the chambers. On unsnecking the barred door hae dragged the petrified Marion intae the cell. She’d heard o his familiar an plenty o stories o his sorcery an his wickedness, so she was at her wits end on thinking o what was going tae happen tae her next. Hae stood atween the twae graves an dunted three times with his mailed fist on the lid o the kist. ‘Spirit waken.’ The sense o terror was aw too much for Marion, she foondered an passed oot. The Black Lord dunted thee times on the lid o the kist, but the entity never stirred. Marion was oblivious tae the rest o this an woke up in her barred chamber.
It was shortly after daybreak the next day that young Sir Walter Scott arrived at the gates o Hermitage with twenty o his men in tow. Yin o his men blew his horn tae herald the arrival. De Soulis shouted frae the battlements, ‘What has shoogled ye up so early today ma young hairless chin?’
‘I’m here in the guid name o the king,’ replied Sir Walter in a fair gallus fashion. ‘In the king’s giuid name I demand that ye immediately hand ower ma bride-tae-be, or ye shall pay for yer despicable act.’
‘It is you that will pay for aw yer empty boasting laddie. An who is it that ye caw king? The crown is mine. An ye’ll die like a stray dog for yer impudence.’ Then de Soulis turned tae address his men, ‘Take arms men.’
A few minutes later a hunder men rode oot the gate along with de Soulis. They descended on young Sir Walter’s men like wolves upon sheep. De Soulis himself cut through them left an right like a scythe through ripened corn. Aw too soon Sir Walter’s troops were scattered intae the trees, with aw but de Soulis an three o his men remaining tae deal with the determined Sir Walter himself. Quickly they had him surrounded an were moving in for the kill. ‘Keep back men. Leave this young pup tae me. I’ll take his heid on a plate as a wee present for ma sweet bride.’
‘Ye might have her in chains, but she’ll never be yer bride.’ The younger man then launched a furious sword attack at de Soulis. So intense was it that for a while de Soulis completely forgot that hae couldnae be harmed by the weapon o a mortal man. When hae did recover his composure hae laughed an retorted, ‘Ye’d be as weel waggling a stick instead o a sword for the amount o guid it will dae ye.’
‘Sorcerer ye might be, but mortal harm will claim ye in the end.’
De Soulis laughed again in the knowledge that hae couldnae be harmed. However, as the twae fought on de Soulis realised that young Sir Walter’s strength was equal tae his ain. Hae was just wondering how hae might finish off the younger man when yin o his men flung a spear at Sir Walter’s horse. As the spear entered the horse’s flank the creature fell tae the ground, sending the young man sprawling. De Soulis immediately jumped off his horse, stamped with his boot firmly on Sir Walter’s chest an placed the tip o his sword blade under Sir Walter’s chin at the exposed thrapple. ‘Ye’ll nae die just yet,’ de Soulis said an hae turned tae his men. ‘Tie him up.’
‘So ye’re a coward as weel as a treacherous swine. Ye’ll pay for yer ill-deeds in the end,’ Sir Walter shouted as hae was trussed up an dragged through the castle gates. ‘Ye will rue this dirty business de Soulis, mark ma words.’
Sir Walter Scott was taken an tied tae the opposite wall o the chambers where Marion was tethered. De Soulis drew his sword an, yince mair, placed the tip o it at Sir Walter’s exposed thrapple. Then hae turned tae address Marion. ‘Marry me or ye’ll find yer sweetheart’s heid rolling by yer feet. If ye agree tae marry me, I’ll let the laddie go free.’
‘Ye scunnersome beast, ye’re nae even human,’ railed Marion. ‘Ye leave ma Walter be.’
‘Marion, ma dearest Marion,’ said Sir Walter. ‘Dae what ye like tae me ye devil, but leave Marion alone.’
‘Ye’ve heard what I have tae say on the matter. I’ll gie ye till midnight tae think it ower, then I’ll have yer answer. Agree tae marry me an ye’ll have a man for a husband, instead o this beardless laddie.’ Before leaving, de Soulis gave her due warning as tae what she could expect if she didnae agree tae his proposal.
Yince they were on their ain, Marion broke doon greeting at their dire predicament. ‘Dinnae fret ma dear Marion. It is nae long now till oor friends get here tae rescue us. It’s aw been arranged. An if I should die in the process, far better that I be yer bridegroom in memory than ye submit tae that devil.’
‘I would sooner die along with ye than be with him,’ said Marion with renewed spirit.
Throughoot the rest o the day de Soulis was trauchled. Hae had some vague sense that things were wrong. Adding tae this sense was the fact that his men still hadnae come back frae their pursuit o young Braxholm’s men. De Soulis couldnae understand it, what could have happened? Hae found himself walking tae an fro along the battlements till long after sunset. The gloom o the night did nothing tae enhance his fettle. Then, just before midnight, the sound o hooves approaching filled the derk ootlook. De Soulis, anxious for news o his men, rushed doon frae the battlements an opened the courtyard gates himself. ‘Yer news, yer news, oot with it man. Where are the rest o ma men?’
‘The chase took us intae the wilds o Tarras Moss, an we were right in the middle o it afore any o us realised. I was lucky masel tae find ma way oot, as maist o oor men an horses lie buried in thon treacherous bog. An those that werenae claimed by the bog were put tae the sword by Sir Walter’s men. I tell ye I was the only yin tae get oot alive.’
‘An ye come back here tae tell this sorry tale that brings shame on tae the hoose o de Soulis, whilst young Sir Walter’s men are free tae roam wherever hae likes? I’ve a mind tae horsewhip ye for such a story. Get oot o ma sight ye miserable wretch.’
De Soulis aboot turned an quickly descended yince mair tae his deepest dungeon. Yince mair hae repeated his dunting on the kist lid with his meaty fist, in atween the casting o salt an ash an trampling aw ower the twae animal graves. ‘Spirit rise up an speak tae me.’
The iron bound lid creaked slowly open. However, this time the unholy figure did not show itself but sent its deep ominous voice forth, ‘Flesh-bound creature, why do ye wake me before the time I asked o ye? Do ye not have aw that ye wish? Man’s blades cannot harm ye, man’s ropes can neither hold nor hang ye, nor even water droon ye. Away with ye.’
‘Wait,’ pleaded de Soulis. ‘If ye could only add, nor fire burn me.’
But the entity would only gie oot a terrible booming laugh in answer, before adding as previously, ‘Beware o a coming wood’. There was a clatter as the heavy lid f
ell shut again. The ominous thunder plumps were repeated deep in the bowels o the earth, causing the stoor o the cell tae rise intae clouds.
De Soulis raged an muttered tae himself, ‘Damn yer riddles.’ Hae stormed oot o the cell, but instead o snecking the door with his muckle key hae threw the key atween the bars intae the cell. ‘Keep it, I’ve had enough o yer riddles.’ An with that de Soulis marched off.
Despite his actions the riddle trauchled him for the rest o the night. Such was his unrest that hae kept tae his ain chamber. As weel as trying tae fathom the meaning o the riddle, hae pondered the death o his men. That wasnae supposed tae happen. Hae hardly had thought aboot Marion at aw, an Sir Walter even less until the sun arose the following morning. So when hae entered their prison it was with an expression o rage that barely concealed the trauchled feelings behind.
‘Weel now, have ye seen sense yet Marion? Will ye be ma bride an let young Scott keep his heid aboot him? Or dae ye turn me doon tae see his heid on the end o ma spear?’
‘I’d rather ye cut me up an threw me as dog-meat tae yer hoonds, than see Marion be a bride for ye.’
‘That’s nae a bad idea, nae a bad idea at aw,’ de Soulis smiled with relish, ‘but I want ye tae see that I have a bit o mercy aboot me. If the positions were reversed what fate would ye serve oot tae me?’
‘Oh, that’s easy,’ replied Sir Walter, ‘I would hang ye frae the highest tree ower thonder in Branxholm Woods.’
‘Weel said, weel said,’ responded de Soulis with a certain amount o malicious glee. ‘Weel I’ll show ye that I have a wee bit mair mercy aboot me than ye have aboot yerself. I will let ye choose the tree I’ll hang ye frae. Although the same ravens will feast on ye an peck oot yer eyes. An what’s mair, tae show that I’m nae such a sore loser,’ an hae turned tae Marion, ‘since ye didnae choose tae gie me yer hand, I’ll bind yer hand tae his an hang ye frae the very next tree.’
‘I thank ye for that mercy at least,’ said the lassie boldly.
De Soulis then instructed his four remaining men tae place a noose roond each o the twae prisoners’ necks. The twae victims were then led oot o the castle in the direction o the woods. However, they had hardly walked fifty yards frae Hermitage when they found themselves immersed in mist. The men stared in astonishment. ‘Look ma lord,’ said yin o them, pointing in the direction o the wood.
‘What, what dae ye see?’ snarled de Soulis.
‘The wood, dae ye nae see, ma lord, the wood comes towards us,’ the man stammered.
‘What is happening?’ cried de Soulis, the colour immediately dwining frae his face as hae minded the words o the demon, ‘Beware o a coming wood.’
Before de Soulis could recover his wits young Sir Walter’s men had dropped the branches they had been carrying in front o their faces, drawn their swords an had the evil wizard surrounded. De Soulis’ men were soon either captured or killed, but nae sword could lay a mark on the Black Lord. Hae managed tae charge through the flailing swords an flee tae the safety o Hermitage. The ropes that tied Marion an Sir Walter were immediately cut an the young couple freed.
The reunited sweethearts returned tae Branxholm withoot further ado, where they were immediately wed. De Soulis, however, continued tae be a scourge on his neighbours an the surrounding countryside. King Robert the Bruce received that many complaints frae folk that in the hinderend, in complete exasperation, hae carelessly said, ‘Ach, boil the scunner in oil, an we’ll hear nae mair aboot him.’ When those petitioners came back tae Hermitage Castle they found young Sir Walter’s men fighting with de Soulis yet again. Despite being greatly oot-numbered an having nae men now tae fight alongside him, swords an spears glanced off his body as if they were grass, an nae rope could bind or hold him. However, it was fortunate that in the party o new arrivals there was a man wise in the ways o unfankling the spells an effects o witchcraft.
‘Wrap him in lead, that is the only way tae hold him. Then boil him as the king himself has ordered, for sword, spear or rope have nae power ower his spells; nor do fire an water on their ain have any power ower him, but working together they may defeat him.’
On hearing this, many ran intae the castle tae tear the lead frae the roof. They held the evil lord doon by their sheer weight o numbers an preceded tae wrap him up in the lead, folding it roond his muckle frame till aw hae could dae was curse an seethe. They managed tae find a muckle black cauldron, which hae’d used for concocting many o his hellish spells an brews. A roar o excitement an approval went up when someone suggested that they boil him on Ninestane Rig. So they lifted him an the cauldron up the hill tae where the Druid stanes are. They hung the cauldron frae the stane an quickly built a muckle fire underneath. Then they thrust the lord’s body intae the cauldron. As the flames grew higher an heated the pot, the lead started tae melt an bubble. An so the bones o the Black Lord were consumed by the boiling lead. Such was the fate o de Soulis.
Many who visit Hermitage Castle experience an eerie feeling roond that lonely an desolate place. Indeed, on that hill where the Druid stanes can still be seen today, where de Soulis performed so many o his evil deeds, an where hae ultimately met his demise, it is said that each year on the anniversary o his death that the pitiful yowling o the Black Lord can be heard piercing through the unruly winds tae echo through the hills.
Hermitage Castle has the reputation o being the maist evil place in the Borders. Ower the centuries the castle has sunk six feet intae the ground. There are some that say that this is doon tae the sheer weight o evil deeds perpetrated there.
AIRCHIE ARMSTRONG’S OATH
As Airchie Armstrong dandered along the line o the border, as hae often did, watching the tempting fat English sheep ower the other side, hae must have thought that hae’d been born far too late. Though the fierce blood o his reiving ancestors nae doot surged through his veins, tae caw yersel a reiver was nae longer a thing o honour. This was after the Union o the Crowns, in the reign o Charles I, an so Airchie couldnae claim tae be a Border soldier fighting the auld enemy. An though hae might relish the adventures o his ancestors, none o the powerful Border families would help him oot if hae got himself in a tight corner. The only help hae would get was the wits hae had within his ain self.
Now Airchie lived near Eskdale, close at hand tae where the bonnie toon o Langholm now stands, at a hoose at Stubholm, where Wauchope Burn runs intae the River Esk, which is only eight mile frae the border itself. In spite o the risks involved, if Airchie deemed it safe enough hae would slip ower the border an help himself tae the odd fat yowe.
It was yin particular night when Airchie Armstrong had helped himself tae another yowe that an English shepherd saw him. Very quickly the shepherd raised the alarm. Now Airchie had a guid start, but hae could only go so fast with a muckle woolly yowe in his arms. Halfway hame, when Airchie was passing by Gilnockie Tower, hae started thinking aboot his infamous ancestor Johnnie Armstrong, how hae’d lived a fine an happy life, an had experienced hunders o adventures. But then Airchie reflected, ‘Aye, but they catched him at the hinderend an hanged him by the neck.’ An what’s mair Airchie’s English pursuers were breathing doon his ain neck.
Despite the weight o the sheep, Airchie managed tae get back hame before his pursuers could catch up with him. Hae had nae sooner got the door shut behind him than his wife unceremoniously told him, ‘Ye’ll be tain this night an hanged in the mornin.’
Airchie being the larger-than-life character that hae was just laughed this off an said tae his wife, ‘I’ll nae hang for just yin daft sheep.’ Then hae set aboot skinning that yowe as quick as anything, an wi mair skill than any kent butcher. Hae then rowed up the skin an aw the parts o the sheep that werenae wanted, an took them oot an flung them in the burn, the fast flow o which soon scattered the incriminating evidence. Nae sooner had hae done this than hae came back tae the hoose, thinking that it was nice an handy that the bairn was away biding elsewhere the night. Hae put that sheep carcass in the bairn’s cradle, covering it up with the c
overs. Then hae sat doon aside it an rocked the cot wi his foot an preceded tae sing the skinned yowe a lullaby.
When the Englishmen barged through the door Airchie Armstrong was still singing his lullaby an gently shoogling the cot, as if hae was the finest father in aw o the isles. The intruders immediately accused Airchie as the sheep-stealer. Airchie in turn was fair affronted by this accusation, ‘If I have stolen this yowe as ye claim I have then I ask tae be doomed tae eat the flesh that this very cradle holds.’
It was a very serious matter tae swear an oath in the Borders in those days, an the English pursuers were very impressed by what Airchie Armstrong had said. That they believed him was another thing aw together. However, they searched the hoose an the garden frae top tae bottom, but could find nae sign o their missing yowe. At the hinderend they had tae gie up an away back hame tae where they came frae. Before they left though, the shepherd that had accused Airchie conceded that hae must have been deluded by witches, an when hae got back hae would see tae it that a branch o a rowan tree (otherwise kent as the mountain ash) was hung ower his sheepfold tae keep away any witches.
As for Airchie Armstrong, hae fair enjoyed eating the subject o his oath, as did the rest o his family.
MUCKLE-MOU’D MEG
Late in the reign o Queen Elizabeth I o England, King James VI o Scotland was very keen tae keep in with the English, as hae was expecting tae succeed the auld queen on her death an become the king o both countries.
At the time there was a lot o reiving going on an certain Border Scots were making wild raids intae England tae steal cattle. The king instructed his Warden, the bold Lord o Buccleuch, tae put a stop tae such raids.
Now, in his day, auld Wat Scott o Harden, which is three miles south o Hawick, had been as bad as anybody for making cattle raids intae England. Hae an his men would drive the cattle ower the border intae Scotland then back tae Harden House an hide them in the deep glen there. An did not auld Wat say yince, as hae was looking longingly at a fine English haystack, ‘Howts, if only ye had some legs ye wouldnae be standin there.’
Scottish Borders Folk Tales Page 13
