‘Now, William Hume, I will go easy on ye on twae conditions. The first yin is that ye allow the marriage o yer bonnie daughter tae Bill Kerr, tae who I’m granting 200 merks as a marriage portion. The other is that ye dinnae let on who yer particular guest was at the kirn. That being understood an for the defence o masel I’ll grant ye free use o the lands at Cairnkebbie.’
Aw too soon the barn was again shoogling wi joy an laughter. This time it was for the wedding o Lily an Bill. For such a happy occasion there was only yin wee thought o regret atween them aw, that Wat Watson the gaberlunzie man wasnae there among them.
DANDY JIM
In the year 1829, after the scandal o the Burke an Hare murders came oot in Edinburgh, talk aboot bodysnatching an the resurrectionists was rife far an wide, including in the Scottish Borders. It so happened that late yin night, deep intae the autumn o that year, a young Kelso fella cawed James Goodfellow was making his way back hame. Hae was also kent as Dandy Jim on account o the fantoosh claes hae was apt tae wear, as if hae was yin o the weel-tae-dae folk. Hae’d been away seeing a sweetheart in the wee village o Crailing, but had spent mair time with her than hae’d intended, which is often the way with such matters o the heart.
The moon was naewhere tae be seen an so the night was particularly derk. The young packman was just coming by Eckford kirkyard when hae noticed a queer light flashing behind the wall. Now hae wasnae yin o the superstitious type an wasnae feart o very much, so hae stopped an looked ower intae the cemetery. Although hae couldnae see much in the murk, hae reckoned that there were some men in there making their way tae the grave o a newly buried body, an that the flashing o the lights was caused by them passing atween the heidstanes wi their lanterns. As Dandy Jim stood a bit longer, hae was sure that hae could make oot a body, an if it was it had tae be o the man that had been buried just the day before. Hae decided tae creep along behind the wall till hae reached the glebe (kirk field) where the resurrectionists’ horse was hidden. Hae untied the horse frae the fence an then gave it a right skelp on the bahookie tae send it galloping away ower the fields. O course the bodysnatchers couldnae fail tae hear the whinnying o the horse an the thunder o its hoofs as it galloped away. The packman could now clearly make oot that there was just the twae o them there, as the twae gliffed men frantically sclimmed ower the wall tae get after their horse. Dandy Jim lowped ower the wall intae the kirkyard an made his way ower tae the newly dug up body. Hae then humphed the corpse oot o its coffin an hid it behind a gravestane, an put himself in its place in the coffin an just waited.
By an by, the twae bodysnatchers caught their horse an brought it back. They then came back tae the graveside an lifted the packman up an put him on tae the gig that they’d harnessed the horse tae. Then the bodysnatchers rode away tae a lonely part o the road near the village o Maxwellheugh. By the time they’d reached this place Dandy Jim had found oot that the twae men were tailors frae Greenlaw, nicknamed the Rabbit an the Hare. By the shoogling in their voices an the jerkiness o their actions, Dandy Jim could tell that the courage o the twae thieves was fading quick. It came tae the point that the Rabbit couldnae hold his wheesht any mair, such was his panic. ‘Hare, I’ll take an oath before a Justice o the Peace that I felt that body stir.’
It so happened that the Hare’s panic was even worse. ‘Rabbit, mun! Rabbit, mun!’ hae muttered, in the sore an hushed sounds o dire mental trauchle. ‘Ma mind tricks me, ma mind tricks me, for we have mistaken oor man. They must have buried this yin alive, I’m thinkin; cos, as I’m a livin sinner, the corpse is warm yit!’
This was the moment that Jim had waited so patiently for. Slowly hae lifted the cloot that had been placed aboot his face, an spoke in such a grave tone o voice, ‘Warm, did ye say? An pray, what would you be if ye’d come frae where I have been?’
The Hare saw the supposed deid body move. Tae his fankled imagination its action, as it uncovered its face, bore a scunnersome likeness tae that o a deid man rising frae the grave on the last day. Hae heard the grave sounds that addressed him by name, an hae lowped oot o the gig an straight ower the fence, an in a blink was running for his life ower the open ground o Spylaw. At the very same time the Rabbit, on his side o the gig, slid tae the ground an burst through the hedge on the other side o the road, an made for the High Wood o Springwood Park as fast as his wee legs could take him.
The body then gave oot a muckle hearty laugh, turned the horse’s heid aroond an made his way back hame tae Kelso, his ploy having worked entirely, meaning that hae was now the proud owner o the horse an gig, an had found oot plenty tae trauchle a wide network o bodysnatching. As they were never claimed, nor indeed any enquiries made aboot them, Dandy Jim used the horse an gig as the first assets o what turned oot tae be a flourishing wee business for him.
MIDSIDE MAGGIE
Up the back o Carfrae Mill there is a farm cawed Tollishill that looks oot on tae the hills. Somewhere aroond 1647 Thomas Hardie was the tenant o that farm. When hae reached the age o thirty hae settled doon an got married tae the bonnie Maggie Lyestone. Previously she helped oot at the inn at Westruther. Even though it was a nine-mile walk there an back through the hills for him, Thomas had been something o a regular there at nights. An that is how Maggie an Thomas had become acquainted. Nae long intae the marriage there were twae winters in succession that were severe with the snow, covering the fields an hills for months on end. As a result Thomas lost many sheep, an after the second o such winters was very close tae ruination. When it came roond tae Martinmas on the 1st o November the rent was due but there wasnae the money tae pay it. The Earl o Lauderdale, who was the landlord, was a notoriously hard-nosed man, so Thomas an Maggie Hardie kent they were facing eviction unless they could come up with something. Weel, Maggie being a young determined sort o woman decided tae go an see the earl, so she set oot, despite the heavy snow, tae walk the eight an a half mile through the Lammermuir hills tae Thirlestane Castle, which was the earl’s residence. The castle is a muckle sandstane building with twae circular towers.
The earl decided that hae would see Maggie, as hae was partial tae gazing at bonnie women. An because Maggie was bonnie by anybody’s standards, hae listened tae her story. However, as it became apparent that the annual rent would not be forthcoming, hae began tae lose patience. When Maggie had concluded her sorry account hae wasted nae time in launching his response. ‘Ye go on aboot how long the snaw has lain, an how long the snow is likely tae lie through this winter, but it’s nae excuse for nae coming up with the rent. Ye do realise that it’s me that’ll be ruined, an where will we aw be then?’ Then his eyes started tae glint an a mischievous smile stretched across his face. ‘But I’ll make a deal with ye. As the snow will lie weel intae next year according tae you, if ye bring me a snowball on the 1st o June that will cover yer rent.’
Maggie looked blankly at him.
‘Just yin snowball, that’s aw I’m asking.’ The earl laughed, fair amused at himself, an Maggie was dismissed withoot further ado.
What was for sure was that, after his wife had trudged aw the way back hame through the snow, her man didnae think much o the earl’s tasteless joke. However, Maggie, nae saying a word tae her man, took herself off up intae the hills when hae was oot the road seeing tae the sheep. She scrambled intae a narrow cleuch that would never see a blink o sun during the winter months. It had a wee cave at the back o it. Maggie bent doon tae make a snowball. She pressed the snow as hard as she could intae itself, heedless o the bitter cauldness in her fingers. She put the snowball deep intae the cave, then sealed the entrance with stanes an moss.
Atween that time an the 1st o June she both fretted an prayed that the snowball would survive. By the 1st o June itself the snow in the fields an hills was long gone. In atween times she hadnae checked if the snowball had survived for fear o letting warmer air intae the cave. Early on the 1st o June, before the sun had a chance tae rise, Maggie arrived at the cave with a basket in hand. She tore oot the stanes an moss an delved deep intae the
cave. There, after fumbling aroond in the derk, she felt the icy tingling o her snowball. She quickly placed it in her basket an made for Thirlestane Castle as fast as she could go. Breathlessness combined with panic, but the Earl o Lauderdale was tae witness Maggie’s snowball, as the melting water frae it dripped atween the weave o her basket. Say what ye like aboot thon earl, on seeng the snowball hae laughed guid humouredly an stuck tae his word, an not a ha’penny o rent was asked for frae Thomas an Margaret Hardie for that particular year.
Things got better for the couple money-wise after that, an in fact frae the year 1651 the fortunes o the Hardies an the fortunes o the duke reversed. Ye see the Duke o Lauderdale sided wi Charles II (an the Stuarts) in his campaign tae overthrow Oliver Cromwell an his roondheids. So the idea was that whilst the roondheids were busy wi their campaign north o the River Forth, Charles II’s forces, along wi his Scottish allies, would gallop doon tae London an retake the throne. However, Cromwell had made provision for this possibility an routed Charles’ forces at the Battle o Worcester. The Roondheid casualties numbered only a few hunder, whereas the Royalists lost 3,000 men, wi 10,000 being taken prisoner. Some 8,000 Scots were deported. The Duke o Lauderdale was arrested an jailed for life, resulting in him being snecked up in the Tower o London.
In contrast tae this, in the years that came after the ill-fated Battle o Worcester, Tollishill Farm an the Hardies prospered. They prospered tae such an extent that they had enough siller tae see tae aw their needs, an save up a fair pickle o gold coins intae the bargain. Amongst the gold was the rent that they hadnae paid for the nine years o the earl’s imprisonment. Whereas the maist o the tenants were happy nae tae pay their rent tae their absent landlord, Thomas an Maggie were intent on paying every penny. Maggie never forgot how the Earl o Lauderdale had kept his promise tae them in their time o dire need. It occurred tae Maggie that if the earl had their rent money, which was a fair pickle, hae would have the where-with-aw tae bribe his way oot o jail an escape tae France.
‘We could gie him oor rent money,’ suggested Maggie tae Thomas.
‘Aye, but where hae is we cannie reach him.’
‘We could take it tae him.’
‘What, tae London? Dinnae be daft, woman. They’d have the money off ye as soon as ye crossed the border. Besides the road is nae place for a bonnie lass like yersel.’
But Maggie was persistent, she told Thomas that she would bake a muckle bannock an hide aw the money in there. After aw, nobody would think o stealing a bannock, particularly if it was stale an hard. What’s mair she could dress up as a man, so that she wouldnae be seen as just a weak woman, an she wouldnae draw the wrong kind o attention forby. She baked a muckle thick bannock frae pease an barley meal with the richest filling imaginable.
So it was that Maggie got herself done up as a man, an her an Thomas set off for London. They got as far as Stevenage, where they happened tae meet in with General Monk, who was a supporter o Cromwell. Whatever it was, the way she moved, or a feminine curve she had failed tae sufficiently cover, the general saw through Maggie’s disguise right away. However, hae was intrigued an so hae decided tae get Maggie’s story. Now, even though hae was on the opposite side, hae was very taken by the loyalty that Maggie an Thomas were showing tae their landlord. So much so that Kind Geordie, as hae was kent, promised that hae would petition for the Earl o Lauderdale’s release.
Three weeks after, Thomas an Maggie reached London Tower. By now she was back in her mair accustomed attire. There she sang songs tae the guards, who became enchanted by her an her singing. She then asked them if she could sing under the window o the Earl o Lauderdale’s residence. She chose tae sing ‘Lauder’s Haughs’. On hearing the song the Earl o Lauderdale was owercome with emotion, as hae reckoned hae’d never set eyes on his hamelands again. When hae looked oot his window hae immediately recognised his tenant Maggie. On seeing her hae cawed upon the guards tae ask the young woman tae come an visit him.
The Earl o Lauderdale’s face lit up on seeing Maggie. ‘I have something for ye,’ she told him.
‘Not another snowball surely?’ smiled the earl, in spite o his predicament.
‘Nae,’ she lifted the muckle bannock oot o her basket an handed it tae him.
‘I doot this is stale an past its best,’ commented the earl.
‘I wouldnae say that,’ said Maggie, ‘It should serve ye very weel the way it is.’
The earl looked puzzled.
‘Break it open an ye’ll see what I mean.’
Hae broke it ower his knee an yin or twae gold coins tumbled oot tae the delight o the earl, especially when hae found oot the full extent o the money secreted in the bannock.
‘Every bannock has its match, but the bannock o Tollishill,’ announced the earl happily.
On returning hame, Maggie an Thomas soon learned that General Monk had kept his promise, an that the Earl o Lauderdale had used the money tae take himself off tae France. Also, Charles II had been crowned king at Scone. It was only a matter o time after that when it would be safe for the Earl o Lauderdale tae return hame tae Thirlestane Castle. Due tae his loyalties tae the sovereign, the earl was rewarded with a significant position. Despite his increased importance an responsibilities, it didnae stop him visiting the Hardies at his earliest opportunity. Accompanying him was an extensive retinue, so that hae was able tae show the magnitude o his appreciation for the Hardie’s loyalty tae him. Also, the Earl o Lauderdale bestowed on Maggie an her family a silver griddle. It was prized in the family an was handed doon the generations until the turn intae the twentieth century, when it was presented tae the National Museum o Antiquities in Edinburgh, where it can be seen tae this very day.
14
O LOVE AN REVELATION
THE VIGIL O LADY JEAN DOUGLAS
At the time when Neidpath Castle, near Peebles, was inhabited by the earls o March, there arose a great romance atween Lady Jean Douglas an the son o the Laird o Tushielaw. It was said that their mutual affection grew in the leafy splendour o the long-gone Ettrick Forest. That they met in secret in the forest’s cool glades, or by the banks o the broad River Tweed, undootably heightened the thrill o their meetings, but such discretion was deemed necessary by both parties. Although Jean’s sweetheart was a fine young man, an the son o a laird nae less, his station in life was still considered way beneath that o the Earl o March an his family, an therefore not at aw suitable for marriage tae his fine daughter.
So Lady Jean an the son o the Laird o Tushielaw continued tae meet in secret. However, as is so often the way, when a romance truly blossoms it cannot hide undiscovered for very long. How the affair was revealed has been long forgotten, but aw it would have taken is a simple accidental glance frae eyes o those whose interests lay not with the young couple, an who knew o the consequences o delivering news tae the Earl o March, tae say nothing o the reward that could be expected.
When Lady Jean’s sweetheart was ordered tae stay away frae her, hae could not bear it for long. Hae was not o an age tae merely pine an suffer amidst too many reminders o his great love, an so hae took himself off forthwith tae France tae fight for king an country, an in the doing so, perhaps hae would eventually find another life that hae desired.
The Earl o March was delighted that the way was now clear for suitors o quality tae advance their claims for the hand o his fair daughter. That Lady Jean was bonnie there are ballads that certainly attest, but it is unlikely that such a beauty has ever been so quick tae wither an dwine. It is likely that a fair part o such beauty, the sparkling o her eyes an the glow o her skin, can be attributed tae the guid effects o the son o the laird, for before she met him she could often be a peellie-wallie lassie. An so she took the news o her sweetheart’s departure for France as if it were a physical blow, a blow that lingered an buried itself deeper an deeper intae her chest, taking aw but a whisper o breath frae her. Within a few days she had taken tae her bed. As the days turned intae weeks her colour continued tae dwine away an her youth with it
. As the weeks became months even the Earl o March had tae concede that hae’d seen healthier ghosts. Such a man was not accustomed tae relenting, but hae finally had tae concede that tae have the son o the Laird o Tushielaw as a son-in-law was far better than tae have nae son-in-law at aw, and, mair tae the point, far better than having nae daughter at aw.
So, with reluctant guid grace, hae gave his blessing tae his daughter on her choice o husband an immediately sent word tae France for young Tushielaw tae come hame right away tae be at his betrothed’s side.
On the day that young Tushielaw was due tae pass through Peebles on his way back tae Tushielaw itself, Jean, though still very weak, persuaded her father tae have her settled on the balcony o a certain hoose in the toon. The hoose belonged tae the family, an it was beside the very road that her sweetheart would pass by. It is said that in her sheer will an desire tae make oot the merest hint o his coming, that she pushed her body’s organs tae such a pitch that she was able tae tell the sound o his horse’s hooves at a fantastic distance.
When she saw the muscular young man riding towards her, hae was everything she remembered an imagined. Hae was every inch the vibrant figure o manhood. However, although the fit young Tushielaw, the conquering hero, riding with great verve, saw quite clearly the pale woman looking frae the balcony, hae did not offer a spark o recognition. Hae had not expected tae see his Jean at that place, nor did hae expect tae see her so declined, an so hae rode on unabated, seeing nae reason tae slow his pace. Tae Lady Jean it was as if she were but a pale ghost already, such was her shock. In that moment aw hope evaporated in her. Her body, which had already been severely weakened, now finally gave oot. She died on that balcony in the arms o her nurses.
Scottish Borders Folk Tales Page 16
