“I cannot set you free, my dear.” said old Mr Spider.
“But you must! I promise you I will never touch your thread again… I’ll do anything for you if you’ll only set me free!”
“Anything?” said old Mr Spider. “You’ll do anything for me?”
“Oh, yes, I promise you! I’ll do anything for you.”
“Then, my dear, you must marry me!”
“Marry you, Mr Spider? I could never marry you; you see, you’re a big ugly spider. I’m just a poor little fly.”
“Well, my dear, I cannot set you free!” Very carefully he pulled the thread in – closer and closer came little Mrs Fly.
“But you must, you must set me free!”
“Then you must marry me!”
“But why, Mr Spider? I mean, you’re a big ugly spider and I’m just a tiny little fly. Why should you want to marry me?”
“Well, I’ll tell you, my dear, why I want to marry you. You see, you have been very naughty: you have been at my thread while I was asleep and no one told you to touch my thread. Now I have you trapped in my thread. But, if you were to promise to marry me, then I could set you free. And then, of course, you could come and live with me. And every morning when I waken up – and should I feel hungry – I would always have you beside me for my breakfast!”
So remember, boys and girls, if you’re walking around your home or your school or your play park, or visiting friends, and you should see a piece of cable or a piece of wire stretched out or hanging down – please, do not touch it! Because, just like old Mrs Fly, it could get you into a lot of trouble.
That’s the end of my story.
Lion and the Four Bulls
Now the next story I’m going to tell you is a very old story. There’s a lot o’ folk tell it in different ways, you know. But I heard this one from my father, who told it to me a long time ago.
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 of the wood. So him being an old lion, he knew fine that he wouldn’t 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 and they kept grazing beside each other. They were the best of 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 went the lion to the bull. And the bull saw the lion coming, he just stood. He didn’t worry, he wasn’t afraid of 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 and see me? Ye know lions and 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 and yer pals there,” he says.
“Oh,” he says, “ye mean my mates, the other three bulls?”
“Aye.”
“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 and 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 and that.”
“Well,” says the bull, “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 four.”
“Oh,” he says, “I am.”
“Well,” says the lion, “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, they said they were just planning, the other three,” he says. “It will soon be coming near the summertime and 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 and they were thinking about turning ye out they said. And the three o’ them was planning to do ye in; they said you were no more use and ye would never manage to go out to the spring pastures and keep up wi’ the rest and 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 and I’ll get what I want.”
Very well, back goes the bull. The other bulls are pleased to see him; they talk to him. But he’s not very friendly to them. So, he starts to the three o’ them right away, and he gets on to them.
“Us?” say 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 and what battles ye’ve took us through and 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 myself 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 is 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... the lion keeps his eye on the other three till he gets one o’ them away from the herd. And the lion tells this one the same, the same story. Back goes the bull to the other two and he gets on t
o the two. And the same thing happens: the bull splits up, he goes away, and 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 and I don’t think anyone will ever split us up.”
“I hope so,” says the other bull, and away he goes for a drink.
So, he wanders down to the shallows for a drink and the first thing – out pops from the bushes – 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.”
Lion says, “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 and tales wandering through the forest. Somebody’s been telling clypes and 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,” says the lion, “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 awfae things about ye.”
“Me?” says the bull.
“Aye,” he says, “you – just saying how...”
“Like what?” says the bull.
“Well, 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 havenae 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, “and 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 and tales.”
But he’s 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 and I enjoyed myself wi’ these four. 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!
The Twelve White Swans
Many years ago, long before your time and mine, in a faraway country there lived a king and a queen. The king had married very young, because his father had died and left him the kingdom when he was only a teenager. And they wished for a family; sure enough a family they did have.
But every time the king would go to see his queen in her chambers when a baby was born, he would say, “What is it this time?”
She would say, “Another son.” The next time another baby was born he would go in… “Another son.”
Not that the king didn’t like his sons, but he wished from his heart that some day one of them could be a little girl. And this worried him terribly.
He said, “Am I not capable of having a daughter? I must have a daughter some way!”
And lo and behold time was not good to him. Years passed by, the king grew old. He had twelve sons and there was only a year, maybe two years between them – twelve beautiful sons. All the sons ran about the palace, hunting, shooting and fishing, and the king loved his sons a lot. But he always had one longing in his heart – if he could only have a little daughter that he could take on his knee and love and tell stories to. Because once the sons grew up they didn’t have much time for him. He was only “their old father”.
Then lo and behold his wife was going to have another baby, and the king said, “It must be a daughter this time! And if it is a daughter, she will be the greatest thing that has ever come into my life. I’ll do everything within my power to see that she has the most wonderful things in her life. And I’ll tell you one thing: if it’s a girl, I’m not having these boys running about her, these sons o’ mine – they’ll have to go and find their own way in the world!”
And lo and behold it did happen. The king walked into the room the next morning – there was the queen and there in the queen’s bosom, presented to her by the nurses and women who took care of her, was the most beautiful little girl the king had ever seen in his life, long golden ringlets hanging down her neck. And the king just went crazy!
The queen said, “At last, my dearest husband, my king, we have—”
“What I longed for and what I want,” he said. The king just loved her, just couldn’t take his eyes off her after having so many, many boys.
But naturally time has a way of passing, and when she was about three years old the king wouldn’t let her out of his sight. Sons meant nothing to him any more. Till one day when she was about five years old.
The king said to the queen, “Look, these boys running about are a trouble to my little girl. We have to get rid of them. I know they’re my sons... Get rid o’ them, put them away and let them go and be knights, send them off to somewhere else, get them out o’ my sight! Because I’m needing my little girl, and I just love this girl like nothing under the earth.”
Now the queen was very sad because she was the mother of all the sons plus the girl. She said, “Please, don’t send—”
He said, “They must go! I’m not having boys, young men running about when my little daughter is here.” And he took her everywhere he went.
Then one day the queen thought, she hated to see her sons going away, because the queen loved all her family. She made up her mind; she’d go and see her old friend, her fairy godmother, who had brought her to the world, the old hen-woman who lived in a little cottage on the castle grounds. So she walked down to the old henwife.
The old wife met her and took her in, and they had a sit and a talk. She told her the story I’m telling you, said, “Look, the king wants me to get rid o’ my sons; not kill them or anything, but banish them away from the land, send them on. They’ll go somewhere, probably get killed and I’ll never see them again. Not that I don’t love my little girl too, but I want them all to grow up together.”
The henwife said, “I know what kind o’ man your husband is. What would ye like tae do?”
“Well,” she said, “I don’t want him tae send them out in the world, probably some o’ them’ll never come back. And if some come back and tell me some o’ their brothers have been killed in battl
e or been killed doing something, it’ll just break my heart.”
And the old henwife said, “What would ye like tae do with them?”
She says, “I want them all with me, but the king won’t allow it.”
“Well,” says the old henwife, “it’s a sad position ye’re in, but what can I do fir ye?”
She says, “You can work magic, I know you can work magic.”
The old henwife says, “I only work good magic.”
“Well,” she says, “this is the kind o’ magic I want – good magic. You know that I have a large garden in the palace.”
The old henwife says, “Yes, I’ve visited it very often. You’ve taken me flowers from it and I walked with you in it when you were just a wee baby.”
She says, “And you know in my garden is a large pool where I visit every day. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if my sons could be turned into swans – white snow driven swans that could float around the garden – unknown to the king? And I could feed them every day; I’d know they were safe and nobody could touch them.”
“Oh,” the old henwife says, “yes, it’s a wonderful thought.”
“Please,” said the queen, “that’s all I desire; just give me a potion o’ some kind that I can turn these boys into swans and put them in my pond in the garden. And I can visit them, feed them. I can be with them all my life till I die. And the king can have his daughter. I can have my sons, and I never want him to know.”
“Well,” says the old henwife, “if that’s what you want… I’ll give ye a potion, but you must never touch it yourself, the king or the princess. Your daughter princess must never touch it! You’ll take yir twelve boys to the pool… I’ll give ye a potion, you’ll bake a special cake and yir daughter the princess or yir husband must not know about this. You must talk to your sons secretly, take them down to the pool. I’ll give ye a potion in a special little flagon. (It was all wee stone flagons in these days.)
And the old queen said, “That would just be lovely if you could do that for me.”
The Flight of the Golden Bird Page 5
