The King and the Lamp

by Duncan Williamson

‘Well, if I stop making bellows you’ll no have so much to eat,’ he says, ‘or be so well off!’

  So she said, ‘I’ll go and see who it is while you finish your tea.’ Out Jack’s old mother goes to the door and she opens it.

  Standing in the door is an old, old woman with a big, long, spiky hat on her head. She said, ‘Is your son Jack in?’

  ‘Aye,’ she said.

  ‘Is this where he sorts the bellows for blowing the fire?’ the old woman said.

  ‘Aye,’ she said, ‘he is in. What do you want of him?’

  She said, ‘I’ve got a set of bellows I want him to sort.’

  ‘Well,’ says Jack’s mother, ‘don’t stand there, come on in! He’s just having a wee mouthful of tea. Come on in, sit down a wee while and get a cup of tea!’

  Now unknown to Jack and his old mother this was a witch, see! And she came from a place high up in the mountains called Blowaway Hill where the wind blew steadily day out and day in, where the wind was that strong you could hardly stand. And this old witch lived on Blowaway Hill where the wind always blew. In she comes. She sits down, and Jack’s old mother gives her a wee cup of tea. And she opens this parcel she has with her and takes out a pair of bellows. She says, ‘Jack, I think you could sort those for me!’

  ‘Aye,’ he said, ‘I could sort them.’ And Jack looked at them and he looked again. In all his days he had never seen a pair of bellows like these! They had a long, long brass point on the front, beautifully carved into the shape of a cat’s head. And the two handles were two ducks’ heads. They were made of solid brass. The leather in between them for gathering the air to blow the fire was completely finished. And Jack knew it was just the job for him, no bother at all!

  She said, ‘Do you think you could do anything with them?’

  ‘Och,’ he said, ‘it’s no bother to me to sort them.’

  ‘But I’ll tell you one thing,’ she said, ‘you’ll have to be very, very careful because they belonged to my great-great-great-great-granny and I would like you to sort them and I’ll make it worth your while.’

  ‘All right,’ says Jack. ‘But where do you stay?’

  She said, ‘Have you ever heard of a place called Blowaway Hill?’

  ‘I’ve heard my father speaking about it,’ he said. ‘It’s a long road from here.’

  ‘Well,’ she says, ‘I stay there. And if you sort the bellows and bring them up to me … I’m an old woman and I can’t walk very far – it’ll take me a long while to go home tonight – I’ll have to be going home now, and thank your mother very much for the cup of tea … I’ll make it worth your while.’

  ‘Well, well, Granny,’ he said, ‘I’ll bring them up to you when I’m finished.’

  So the old woman went away. But she got around the corner – she looked round to see if anybody was watching – she jumped on her broomstick and off she goes through the sky! Home to Blowaway Hill! She landed at the door with her broomstick – into her own house and put the broomstick in at the back of the door.

  Now Jack was left with his mother. Jack sat and took his tea. ‘Mother,’ he said, ‘I’ve mended bellows many’s the time and I’ve even mended bellows for the king, as you know. And never in my day, even when my father used to have the workshop here, have ever I seen a set of bellows look like that! That is the bonniest set of bellows that ever I have seen in my life! I wish one thing,’ he says, ‘God, that they were mine – I would never part with them!’

  ‘Well,’ said his mother, ‘you’ll have to sort them for the old woman, you can’t keep them.’

  ‘Oh no, I can’t keep them!’ he said. ‘That’s one thing I can’t do, I can’t keep them. I’ll sort them,’ because that was his trade.

  So Jack takes them into his shop, loosens them down, cuts all the old rotten leather off the two sides of the bellows, picks out all the best wee nails he could get – all the lovely wee brass nails – cuts new leather, sets the bellows on, puts the new leather in them, puts the lovely wee nails in. And then he polished them. And he polished the brass. He polished the two ducks’ heads and he polished the cat’s head on the point (this was a big cat’s head with its mouth open for the point of the bellows). And he fell in love with them when he saw them. He wished they were his own. ‘I’ve never,’ he said ‘seen bellows like that in my life!’ He was heart-sorry the next day when he had to roll them up in a wee parcel and take them back to Blowaway Hill, to the old witch’s house on the mountain. Anyway, he got his breakfast and said ‘good-bye’ to his mother.

  And his mother said, ‘What time will you be home – will you be home late tonight, Jack? It’s a long road to Blowaway Hill to where the old woman stays.’ She said, ‘I’ve heard of her – folk says she’s a witch!’

  ‘Tsst! Ach, Mother,’ he says. ‘Witch! You cry everybody a witch!’

  ‘Well, I’ll tell you one thing,’ she said, ‘she looks a civil enough old woman, but you never know about these old women, away on a hill staying in a big house away by herself up there. You never know what she’s doing, working spells, one thing and another. I’ve heard many a bad story around the village about her.’

  ‘Ah well, Mother, I’m away anyway,’ he said. ‘I’ll see you tonight.’

  Away goes Jack with the bellows in below his oxter wrapped in a bit of soft, chamois leather. His mother gave him a bit piece1 to take with him. He travels and he travels, oh, he travels a long, long time. He must have travelled for nearly half a day till he came to this wood, and a hill, and this path going up the hill right to the very top. A wee house was sitting on the top of the hill. And in the middle of the house was one chimney, and the wind was blowing on the chimney – the smoke around the chimney never went straight, it was always going zig-zag. Because there was always wind on the top of the hill where she stayed, they called it Blowaway Hill. So Jack buckles his coat round about him, gets the bellows in below his oxter, and he walks up the narrow path till he arrives … ‘God,’ he says, ‘it’s cold here! How does this old woman, this old cratur of a woman, bide up here in that cold wind? It’s no half as cold down on the flat as it is up here.’ But he knocked on the door and out came the old woman.

  ‘Oh, it’s you, son,’ she said.

  ‘Aye,’ he said, ‘it’s me, Granny.’

  ‘Come on in out of the cold wind!’ she said. ‘Ach, it’s that North Wind – he’s aye blowing in here. He never gives me peace. It’s no long since he’s been in here getting his tea, a minute ago, and he’ll be back here again. I’m fed up with him blowing into the house. I never get peace with him – the door rattling, the windows rattling and blowing my wee bits of sticks all over the place. I wish he would go away for a while and leave me at peace!’

  ‘Who are you talking about?’ said Jack.

  She said, ‘It’s the North Wind I’m talking about.’

  ‘But, Granny,’ he said, ‘the North Wind can’t bother anybody.’

  ‘Ah, but he bothers me, he comes in and bothers me,’ she said, ‘comes in here and sits down and gets his tea.’

  Jack said to himself, ‘I doubt she’s a wee bit away with the birds,’1 he was thinking that when she took him in.

  She said, ‘Are you wanting something to eat?’

  ‘Aye,’ he said, ‘I’ll have something to eat,’ and she made him a good tea.

  But the windows started to rattle and shake and the house started to shake. And the wind blew down the chimney … the fire went out. She says, ‘Jack, did you get my bellows sorted?’

  ‘Aye,’ he says.

  She says, ‘Give me them!’ He gave them to her. She caught them. She set them down at the side of the fire and she said, ‘Blow, bellows, blow!’ And the bellows started to blow by themselves. They puffed and they blew and they puffed and they blew, andup, down, and up, and down and up and down and out and in and up and down and up and down and … And Jack’s sitting watching them – his two eyes are just sticking out of his head watching these bellows! The witch had put a spell
on them: they were magic bellows! And he’s watching – the fire kindled up in two minutes! She said, ‘Stop, bellows, stop!’ The bellows stopped – lay down.

  Jack’s heart began to beat fast. ‘Dear, dear,’ he said to himself, ‘if I had that! What could I do with that, I could travel all over the country and show off to folk … take it to the king! And I would be made for life,’ he’s thinking to himself, you see!

  But anyway, the windows start to rattle and the door starts to blow and the wind comes down the chimney, ‘Bvizzzz!’ the big heavy noise comes in. And in comes the North Wind! He sits down in the chair.

  Jack has a look round about him. ‘Who’s that?’ he says to the old witch.

  ‘Ach, it’s my friend,’ she said, ‘the cold North Wind. He’s in for his tea.’

  ‘Well,’ he says, ‘folk say you can see the wind but I never saw the wind before.’

  ‘Well,’ she said, ‘you’re seeing it now!’ The North Wind’s sitting with this big long beard, long hair and a big long coat, and his feet stretched out – sitting in the chair. The old witch gave him a cup of tea sitting next to Jack in the chair, so she told him, ‘It’s Jack from the village up sorting my bellows for me.’

  The North Wind’s sitting (it could speak to the witch), ‘Oh aye,’ he said, ‘those bellows I gave you years ago.’

  She says, ‘You never gave them to me years ago, North Wind. You gave them to my great-great-great-great-granny years ago.’

  He said to her, ‘But I see they’re still working.’

  ‘Aye, they’re still working. Well anyway,’ she said, ‘Jack, it’s getting late and the North Wind and I have got a lot of things to talk about. It’s time you were getting away home.’

  ‘Aye,’ he said, ‘I’ll soon have to go home.’

  ‘But wait a minute,’ she says, ‘I’ll have to pay you, I’ll have to pay you for sorting my bellows.’ She says, ‘What would you like?’

  Jack’s sitting and he thought a wee while. He said, ‘There’s only one thing I would like from my heart – a pair of bellows like those ones.’

  ‘Ah, Jack, Jack!’ she says. ‘I couldn’t give you those bellows … they’re magic bellows. You just say, “Blow!” and they blow the fire themselves. And say, “Stop!” and they stop themselves. But,’ she says, ‘if they ever get out of hand, if they get on their own, there’s nothing but me can stop them.’

  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I don’t care. I could do with a pair like that.’

  ‘But wait a minute!’ she says. ‘I’ll tell you what I’ll do with you – I’ve an old set of bellows like that belonging to my auntie, my great-auntie, and, they’re needing sorting. If you could sort them—’

  ‘But,’ he says, ‘I like the ducks on the handles and I like the cat—’

  ‘They’re the same thing … they’re mounted the same way,’ she said, ‘but they’re a wee bittie bigger.’ ‘That would do,’ says Jack. ‘If they’re a wee bit bigger they’d be all the better.’ So, he took them. They were the same thing, looked the same but a wee bit different: instead of them being mounted with brass, they were common wood. But they had a long brass spout with a cat’s head in the front and two ducks’ heads for handles. The leather was finished inside them, but the rest was good. He looked at them, turned them all over. ‘Aye,’ he said, ‘they’re good enough bellows but they’re not like yours – there’s no magic in them.’

  ‘Na, Jack, there’s no magic in them,’ she said, ‘you’ll have to blow the fire yourself with them.’

  ‘But,’ he said, ‘could you no give me a wee spell, just a wee toy kind of a spell, a bit of one? I’m not wanting very much magic in them … you being a witch – as folk say you’re a witch and … you’re bound to be a witch when you can speak to the North Wind and bring him into the house. I had a long walk up here, you know, and I had a big job sorting them.’

  ‘Well, Jack, you make my heart run away with my head and,’ she said, ‘as long as you look after them carefully, I’ll put a wee spell on them for you and they’ll blow themselves.’

  ‘Good!’ said Jack.

  So she went in the back room, rumbled and rummaged with her hands, chanted words and things. She came out with the bellows in her hands. ‘There you are, Jack!’ she said.

  ‘But wait a minute!’ says the North Wind. ‘Can you let me look at that wee spell before you give it to Jack – and I’ll put it in the bellows for him?’ (Ah, now the North Wind was wicked, you know. He wasn’t bad – but he liked to play tricks on folk, see!) He said, ‘I’ll tell you what I’ll do, seeing as I’ve met Jack here for the first time,’ he said, ‘let me put the spell into the bellows for him!’

  ‘Well,’ says the witch, ‘I can’t see any harm in that.’

  So he caught the bellows from Jack, you see, and the North Wind said, ‘I’ll tell you what I’ll do, I’ll blow the spell in for you.’ But in his own head he was thinking, ‘I’ll make it a wee bit stronger!’ So he gave a hard blow into them and he says, ‘We’ll see the fun after this!’ He put a big spell, a strong spell of wind, into the bellows. Poor Jack didn’t know the difference!

  Jack parcelled the bellows below his oxter, and he bade the witch ‘good-bye’ and he bade the North Wind ‘good-bye’. He travelled away back home. Oh, it was near midnight when he got home to the house! His old mother was waiting up for him. In he went. She gave him his supper.

  She said, ‘You weren’t a while away!’

  ‘No wonder, Mother, I was a while away!’ he said. ‘I had miles to walk and after I got there … you weren’t far wrong – thon definitely was a witch.’

  ‘Oh, as low as my father,1 she’s a witch! She’s a real witch,’ she said.

  ‘And to make things better,’ he said, ‘the North Wind was sitting in the house with her when I went up! Well, he wasn’t there when I went up but he came in.’

  ‘Tsst,’ she said, ‘laddie, have you been drinking?’

  ‘Not me, Mother,’ he said.

  She said, ‘What kind of drink did the witch give you?’

  He said, ‘The witch never gave me anything!’

  ‘Well, she must have given you something,’ she said, ‘you’re drunk – saying things like that.’

  ‘No,’ he said, ‘Mother, I’m not drunk! I never had any drink of any kind.’

  ‘North Wind!’ she said. ‘You know fine there’s nobody can see the wind but a pig; a pig’s the only one that can see the wind.’

  Well, they argued about it anyway. ‘But, I’ll tell you one thing, Mother,’ he says: ‘I got a lovely set of bellows for my job.’

  ‘Is that all she gave you?’ said themother. ‘She must have given you a sixpence or something.’

  ‘No,’ he said, ‘she never gave me a ha’penny. I wasn’t wanting any money – I got the bellows … and they’re magic!’

  ‘You and your magic!’ she said. ‘You’re always looking for something magic.’

  ‘Well, Mother,’ he said, ‘I’ve got it this time.’

  But anyway, Jack took them down. And these bellows, when he’d sorted them up, he started to polish them, and he polished them and he polished them and he made them that bonnie that they were ten times bonnier than the other ones. The more he polished them the bonnier they got! ‘Look,’ he said, ‘Mother, did you ever see the likes of that? Those are the bonniest bellows in the world! Mother, they are fit for a king!’

  ‘You’re right, Jack, they are fit for a king,’ she said. ‘The best thing you can do now is go and take them to the king!’

  ‘Oh, Mother,’ he said, ‘I couldn’t.

  ‘Look,’ she says, ‘Jack—’

  ‘Mother, I couldn’t give my bellows to the king,’ he said, ‘they’re magic.’

  ‘Magic,’ she says, ‘there’s no magic in them. If they’re magic, prove it!’

  ‘No, no,’ he said, ‘no, no, I’m no wanting to prove it, no, no. They’re magic for me,’ he said.

  But the old mother got him coaxed and
she looked at him: she said, ‘Jack, they are bonnie bellows right enough. They’re the bonniest bellows that ever I’ve seen. Look at the cat’s head in the front and look at those ducks’ heads on the handles! Your father,’ she said, ‘God rest him, made hundreds of bellows and sorted many’s the set in this shop years before – and your grandfather before you. But, never in my days have I seen a set of bellows like that! They are fit for a king! Jack, son, the best thing you can do is go to the royal gate, to the palace and hand them into the king. And I bet any money you’ll get a good price for them.’

  But they argued. He wasn’t wanting to sell them, but anyway she got him talked into it. So the next day Jack packed the bellows below his oxter in a bit of skin and he set sail for the king’s palace to show the king his bellows, see?

  So he travelled on and travelled, he hadn’t very far to go, through the village and away out to the end of the village there was the king’s big palace and all the lovely big gardens round about. And he walked up the path leading up to the garden. At the same time who was in the garden but the queen!

  And she was cutting roses in the garden. Jack came walking up … now he has these bellows wapped in a bit of leather, bonnie soft skin. He walks up the pad.

  ‘Oh!’ the queen said, ‘Good – bonnie young man, are you the gardener?’

  ‘No, no,’ he said, ‘I’m not the gardener; I want to see the king.’

  ‘Well, I’ll tell you what to do,’ she said, ‘he’s sitting in the castle just now, the palace, and if you follow me, I’ll lead you to him.’ The queen was very nice to him. But she went to step out in front of Jack and she had a bunch of roses, flowers that she’d cut – and they fell on the ground.

  And Jack being a good lad said, ‘Wait, Your Majesty, and I’ll lift the flowers!’ He bent down to lift the flowers for the queen and didn’t the bellows fall out of his oxter onto the ground!

  ‘Oh, what a lovely set of bellows!’ said the queen. ‘It’s the very thing I want, they’re the very thing I want to blow my fire. I’ve always wanted a set of bellows in my bedroom to blow my fire, and I’ll give you anything for them!’