The King and the Lamp

by Duncan Williamson

  The goat said, ‘What are you doing down there, Mr Fox?’

  And the fox said, ‘Oh, Mr Goat, you have no idea how lovely it is down here in this beautiful well beside this lovely clear water.’ The old goat’s tongue is hanging out for a drink – he’s really thirsty. ‘You have no idea how the shade is so cool,’ said the fox; ‘there is no sunshine. The well is so lovely and the water so cool, I just want to stay here for ever and ever and ever!’

  The goat said, ‘I’m so thirsty, Mr Fox. I wonder how could I get a drink?’

  And the fox said, ‘I cannae give you a drink because I am enjoying myself too much. I cannae give you a drink!’

  ‘Well,’ the goat said, ‘Mr Fox, please try to helpme – I’m thirsty! I can hardly stand it any more.’

  ‘Well,’ the fox said, ‘seeing you are a great friend of mine and you and I have never been enemies, why don’t you join me? Then both of us can sit in the well and we can talk, have a nice good crack and have a good drink!’

  ‘How can we do that?’ said the goat.

  ‘Well,’ said the fox, ‘there is no problem. All you need to do is jump in the bucket and come down beside me!’

  So the goat said, ‘Do you think I could manage it?’

  ‘Och, that is no trouble! If I can do it you can do it – you are bigger than me and heavier than me, Mr Goat. And if I can jump in the bucket …’ (because they were large wooden buckets, ye know, and they held about four or five gallons of water).

  So the goat climbs into the bucket. It is just poised above the well, and with the weight of the goat – down goes the bucket into the well. When the goat’s bucket goes into the well, up goes the fox’s because the fox is lighter than the goat. And the goat’s bucket splashes in the top of the water. The goat is no worrying – he is leaning over and licking up, drinking up this beautiful water.

  Now, when the fox’s bucket goes up the fox is so glad he jumps out when it reaches the top. He stands for a wee while; he looks down at the goat. The goat is busy drinking away. Until the goat has drunk enough the fox waits, because he knows fine he is free and has plenty time to spend. He is not even hungry. He looks down … and he never felt sorry for the goat because he knew the farmer would not touch1 the goat when he got him in the well in the bucket. So he said, ‘Are you enjoying yourself, Mr Goat?’

  ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘Mr Fox, I am enjoying myself! The water is so cool. But why did you not wait beside me? You promised you would wait beside me and we could talk about things, have a nice long talk!’

  ‘Well,’ said the fox, ‘I am really sorry. But you see, your weight was the cause of the trouble, because when you went in the bucket you were so heavy that you pulled me up. And I have no way of getting down to ye: even if I jumped back in the bucket I still couldnae come down beside ye.’

  And the goat said, ‘That is all right for you – you are up out of the well now. I’ve had my drink, now I would like to get up and get something to eat.’

  ‘Well,’ the fox said, ‘Mr Goat, I will have to get on my way. I can’t tarry any longer, because you know what happens to me if the farmer comes and finds me here – he will shoot me!’

  And then the goat said, ‘What about me, Mr Fox? I am your friend. You are not going off to leave me here all by myself in this well?’

  The fox said, ‘There is not much I can do about it.’

  ‘Please, please tell me – what can I do?’ pleaded the goat.

  So the fox looked down. He said, ‘Well, Mr Goat, there is only one thing I can tell you …’

  ‘Tell me, please!’ said the goat. ‘Tell me please!’

  The fox said, ‘Just sit in the bucket and wait till a silly old goat comes along and jumps in the other bucket! Then you will probably get up here where I am right now!’ At that the fox strutted off home to his den in the rocks. And that is the last of my story.

  1 touch – harm

  Lion and the Four Bulls

  Now the next story I’m going to tell ye is a very old story. There’s a lot o’ folk tell it in different ways, ye know. But I heard this one from my father, who told it to me a long time ago.

  NOW there was this lion. And he was out hunting in the forest when he spied four bulls grazing peacefully together in a corner of this little field in the middle o’ the wood. So him being an old lion, things were very bad wi him and he couldna catch any younger animals. He knew fine that he wouldna be able to tackle the four bulls by himself. He just sat down and said to himself, ‘Well, I’ll have to be cunning here, I’ll have to plan …’ And like any other animal lions can be cunning if they really try. So he raiked his brains. ‘There’s only one thing for it,’ he said, ‘I’ll just have to wait till I get one bull away from the others a wee bit, get a wee talk to him and see what I can do. If I can get them separated from each other, I can manage them one by one. But I’ll never manage them all together.’

  So he kept guard on the four bulls, an they kept grazing beside each other. They were the best o’ pals these four bulls, kept good company, slept beside each other at night and grazed beside each other every day. They were good friends these four bulls.

  But anyway, the lion comes down this one morning as usual and he spies three bulls, just the three. He says to himself, ‘Now’s my chance. I wonder where the other one is?’ So by sheer good luck for the lion, bad luck for the bull, it had wandered a wee bit away from the rest. Up goes the lion to the bull.

  And the bull saw the lion coming, he just stood. He didna worry, he wasna afraid o’ him.

  ‘Good morning,’ says the lion to the bull.

  ‘Good morning,’ says the bull. ‘Ye’re far off yer hunting grounds this morning.’

  ‘I am,’ he said. ‘In fact, I wouldna hae been here if I hadna come to see you!’

  ‘See me?’ says the bull. ‘Why should ye come an see me? Ye know, lions an bulls have always been enemies, down through the centuries.’

  ‘Maybe so,’ says the lion, ‘maybe so. But anyway, I hate what’s going on around here.’

  ‘And what may that be?’ says the bull.

  ‘Well, the likes o’ me,’ he says, ‘a lion being king o’ the forest and all these things … I hear many things.’

  ‘Ah, I believe that, says the bull, ‘ye hear many things.’

  ‘But,’ he says, ‘things I don’t like are when folk speak at other folk’s back!’ (As you naturally know, in these days the beasts, animals, could all speak to each other.)

  ‘Like what?’ says the bull.

  ‘Like you an yer pals there,’ he says.

  ‘Oh,’ he says, ‘ye mean my mates, the other three bulls?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘Oh,’ he says, ‘I dinna see why they should hae much to say about anybody. We graze peacefully here, we never bother anybody.’

  ‘Ah, but that’s no the thing,’ the lion says. ‘Ye maybe dinna bother anybody, but what about yersels?’

  ‘Oh,’ says the bull, ‘we get on fine, we, we’re the best o’ pals.’

  ‘Maybe,’ says the lion, ‘to you, but no to other folk an the other beasts o’ the jungle.’

  The bull begins to think, ye see! ‘Like what, Lion?’ he says.

  ‘Och well,’ he says, ‘a lion like me who wanders about hears a few stories here and there, and there may be nae truth into them or bits an that.’

  ‘Well,’ he says, ‘What did ye hear like?’

  ‘Well, I heard,’ he said, ‘the other three there, I overheard the other three the other night. And they were discussing you!’

  ‘Me?’ says the bull.

  ‘Aye.’

  He said, ‘You’re the oldest o’ the three or the four?’

  ‘Oh,’ he says, ‘I am.’

  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘they were just saying a lot o’ things about ye I didna like, so I thought ye would hear them!’

  ‘Oh?’ Now the bull begins to pay attention, ye see. ‘What were they saying about me?’ he says.

  ‘Well, th
ey said they were just planning, the other three,’ he says, ‘it will soon be coming near the summer-time, an it’s time youse is all splitting up. And they were thinking that you were getting too old, you couldna keep up wi the herd, an they were thinking about turning ye out, they said, an the three o’ them was planning to do ye in. They said you were no more use, an ye would never manage to go out to the spring pastures an keep up wi the rest an everything. In fact, for making calves they said you were past yer prime!’

  And this made the bull very very angry. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I’m no very fond o’ hearing the likes o’ that said about me! It’s no so bad if it’s tellt to my face, but when it’s tellt at my back … it’s just like the three o’ them, them being a wee bit younger than me. But we’ll soon see about that when I go back!’

  ‘Well,’ said the lion, ‘I’ll be on my way. But eh, I just thought ye ought to know.’

  ‘Well, thanks,’ said the bull, ‘for telling me. And eh, you being the king o’ the animals I know you wouldna tell me a lie!’

  ‘No,’ says the lion. ‘Well, I’ll be bidding you good-day!’ The lion waited till the bull walked away and he gave a wee laugh to himself. ‘Now,’ he says, ‘the fun will start, an I’ll get what I want.’

  Very well, back goes the bull. The other bulls were pleased to see him, they talked to him. But he wasna very friendly to them. So he starts to the three o’ them right away, and he gets on to1 them.

  ‘Us?’ says the three bulls. ‘We never said a word about ye. In fact, we were just thinking how, even how old ye are how good a fighter ye are, an what the battles ye’ve took us through an everything ye led. Ye led us through many’s a battle against wolves and everything. We thought ye’re the finest bull, ye ought to still be wir leader!’

  ‘I don’t believe ye,’ says the bull, ‘not one single word yese are saying! The lion wouldna tell me a lie.’ And in a huff he walks away. He says, ‘It’ll be a while before I bother youse any more. I’ll keep to mysel after this, and nobody needs to speak about me!’ So he wanders away to the faraway corner o’ the forest and stays by himself.

  The next morning early when the other three bulls are grazing by themselves down comes Mr Lion. When the bull’s back was turned to him, he jumps on the bull and kills it. He has a good feast and leaves the rest to the jackals. So anyway the day passes by … he keeps his eye on the other three till he gets one o’ them away from the herd. And he tells the other one the same story, the same story.

  Back goes the other bull to the other two, and he gets on to the two. And the same thing happens: he splits up, he goes away, an naturally the lion kills him just the same. Now there are only two bulls left. Now these two bulls are grazing by themselves in the field.

  One says to the other, ‘What do ye think happened to the other two?’

  ‘Well,’ he says, ‘it’s up to them. They ought to know better, that we, you and I, werena talking about them or nothing.’

  ‘Oh well,’ he says, ‘maybe they’re better off by theirsel, but I’ll tell ye one thing, we were a great team the four o’ us. And I miss them.’

  ‘Well,’ says the other ane, ‘I dinna ken. But eh, I’m feeling dry and I think I’ll go for a drink.’

  ‘But anyway,’ he says, ‘me and you hae been good pals for a long while, an I don’t think anyone will ever split us up.’

  ‘I hope so,’ says the other bull, an away he goes for a drink. So he wanders down to the shallows for a drink, and the first thing – out from the bushes pops the lion.

  ‘Well,’ says the lion, ‘it’s a fine morning!’

  ‘Aye,’ says the bull, ‘it’s no a bad morning at all.’

  ‘I see ye’re down for a drink.’

  ‘Aye.’

  He said, ‘Eh, what happened to the rest o’ yer pals that used to be up wi’ ye? I see there’s only twa o’ youse there now.’

  ‘Oh aye,’ he says. ‘Och, stories an tales wandering through the forest, somebody’s been telling clypes an tales. And the other two thought they’d be better if they went on their own.’

  ‘Oh, I believe that,’ says the lion. ‘But, ye ken, stories and tales have a way o’ spreading – they can be true sometimes.’

  ‘Ah, I believe that!’ says the bull.

  ‘Anyway,’ he says, ‘you were just the one I was wanting to see.’

  ‘Me?’ says the bull.

  ‘Aye,’ he says, ‘it’s you I was wanting to see. Eh, I was just wanting to tell ye something I think ye ought to hear.’

  ‘Like what?’ says the bull.

  ‘Well, I just overheard yer mate,’ he says, ‘the other day saying an awfae1 things about ye.’

  ‘Me?’ says the bull.

  ‘Aye,’ he says, ‘you – just saying how—’

  ‘Like what?’ says the bull.

  ‘Well,’ the lion said, ‘he said you were too young, you werena able to keep up wi them and you were a poor fighter. And when any fights took place against wolves or animals ye always made sure that ye were away behind the rest and ye were never touched. And ye have nae got a scratch nor nothing to show for it – in all yer years!’

  This made the bull very very angry and he said, ‘He did say that about me?’

  ‘That’s what he said,’ the lion said, ‘an me being the king o’ the forest I dinna like to hear naebody spoken about! So I thought ye ought to ken.’

  ‘Well,’ says the bull, ‘we’ll see about that, if I’m feart or no!’ So back he goes. And he challenges the other bull to a fight.

  The other bull said, ‘I never said a word about ye, I never spoke about ye! Somebody’s been telling ye clypes an tales.’

  But he was so angry that he says, ‘Look, I think it’s the best thing that me and you should part company. I still believe the lion – the lion wouldna tell me any tales!’

  ‘Well,’ says the bull, ‘if that’s what ye think ye can be on yer way! I’ve nae more need for yer company!’ So away he goes. And the next day the lion kills him. Till there’s only one bull left. And he’s wandering around grazing by himself, when out pops the lion and kills him.

  So after this was finished the lion says, ‘Well, that’s my job done! I got the four o’ them an I enjoyed myself wi these four. But they listened to me, but one thing they should have known: there’s always safety in numbers.’ And that’s the last o’ the story!

  1 gets on to – attacks with words, accuses

  1 an awfae – a great many

  Boy and the Snake

  There are many beautiful stories on the West Coast of Scotland, but the most beautiful, the most wonderful story of all I think is kind of sad. This story was told to me by an old crofting man who had it told to him when he was a child by his grandfather. I hope you will like it.

  AWAY back in the West Coast where I come from there’s an old derelict farm building, and it’s out on the hillside. It is ruins now and has been for many years, for over a hundred and fifty years. It all started with a shepherd and his family, his wife and his little boy. This shepherd had a little sheep farm on the hillside and he had many sheep. And he had a little boy called Iain. Because Iain was so young, just about five years old, and because it was so far to the village, Iain couldn’t go to school. His daddy said, ‘When you get a little older I will buy you a pony. Then you can ride the five miles to school. But in the meantime you must stay with your mother, help your mother around the house with her work while I tend my sheep.’ Iain was a very happy little boy. There was no one more beautiful and happier than him. And he played around the farm all day. He had plenty pets – dogs, cats, geese, hens – but he paid no attention to them.

  But one summer’s morning his father was out hunting the sheep as usual, when he fell over a rock and he hurt his leg. He barely managed to walk home. Now he could not tend his sheep.

  So Iain would always come downstairs in the morning to the kitchen table, and his mother would give him a plate of porridge and milk for breakfast. The
n he would take the plate and walk out the door, walk away up the hillside, among the heather … there Iain came to a large rock on the hillside. He took the spoon and he halft the porridge down the centre, put one half to that side o’ the plate and the other half to the other side of the plate. Then he ‘tap, tap, tapped’ on the rock with his spoon. And from out behind the rock came a large adder, a poisonous snake – there are many on the hills in the West Coast. The snake came to his plate. It started to eat the porridge off the one side of the plate, and Iain ate from the other side. If the snake dared cross to his side of the plate he tapped it with his spoon, and it pulled its head back. ‘Stay on your own side, Grey Pet!’ Iain would say. Every morning he would go out and do this.

  But this one morning the father said to his wife, ‘Why does Iain go outside with his porridge? Why doesn’t he take it at the table?’

  She said, ‘Husband, he’s not doing any harm. He’s a bright little boy an he just goes out … he likes to eat it by himself.’

  So his daddy having a sore leg said, ‘Well, why doesn’t he stay here with us? I like my son to have his breakfast with me. Where does he go anyhow with his porridge?’

  And his wife said, ‘He just goes out an eats it out on the hillside, he loves doing it outside.’

  ‘Well, why doesn’t he stay and have it at the table? I want my boy to stay and eat porridge with me at the table!’

  But the next morning, as usual, Iain comes downstairs, gets his plate of porridge and walks outside with it. And his daddy’s leg is beginning to get a little better by this time. He takes a walking stick from behind the door and he hobbles after Iain keeping a little distance behind him, among the heather. He watches Iain going to the rock. He watches Iain taking the spoon and halving the porridge in two; and he watches him ‘tap, tap, tapping’ on the rock with his spoon. He watches the snake coming out … he is terrified. He has seen so many snakes on the hill in his time hunting sheep, but he has never seen one as large as this! This one is over four feet long. Iain’s father is terrified. It comes up to the plate, it starts to eat the porridge. And when it finishes its side it tries to cross the plate, an Iain hits it with the spoon – it pulls its head back!