‘But, Murchadh mac Brian,’ said he – the Man in the Cassock – ‘when I heard myself being described, I felt around all over the place and found an old red rusted sword that had not struck a blow for goodness knows how long, and I did not leave a head on a neck there except the Macan Òg of Greece and his father and mother and that woman there.
‘And the Macan Òg of Greece was glad enough then to spend whatever he had left after paying for the wedding, to pay for a wedding for me. And he did it, too.
‘And I brought the woman back home,’ said he, ‘next day, and a wedding and a great marriage were held for me here, again,’ said he. ‘And now you know it all,’ said he, ‘what hardships I suffered because of that woman you see there.’
And however long or short a time Murchadh mac Brian stayed with him after that, he went on his way and said farewell to the Man in the Cassock and the woman and the Gruagach of the Stag and the Hound. And . . . he got back to the hunting-knoll where he had first met them. And he waited there some time before the hunters came back from the deer forest, such was the power of the magic that had been worked on them.
And Murchadh mac Brian and his men went home together then. And I parted from them.
* Storyteller was confused at this point owing to breakdowns in recording.
19 Alasdair (‘Brian’) Stewart
THE STORY OF OSSIAN
OH WELL, OSSIAN, that was in the days of the Féinn, as they used to say, and there were three brothers and they lived in three bothies, as they called it at that time, three shieling bothies. And Ossian was the eldest brother.
This happened one stormy night. A crow came in to . . . a black crow, to the youngest one, the youngest brother, and the crow asked, she asked him if she could get a night’s lodging, and the youngest one, the youngest brother, said to it, ‘Oh, get out of here, Black Crow, or I’ll knock off your head with my finger.’
Then the crow went in to the second brother, and asked him if she could have a night’s lodging with him, and the youngest [sic] brother said to it, ‘Oh, get out of here, Black Crow, or I’ll knock off your head with my finger.’
But then she came to Ossian’s house, and Ossian said, when she came in and asked Ossian if she could have a night’s lodgings, oh, said Ossian, she was welcome to a night’s lodgings. [? After that,] Ossian, he was cooking his meal, ‘Och well,’ said she to him, ‘when you’ve given me a night’s lodging I dare say I can get my supper.’
‘Och, for all you’ll eat,’ said Ossian, ‘that’s all right. You’re welcome.’
Now the crow ate her share of the meal from the table, ate her fill, and then bedtime came and Ossian went to bed, and when he got up in the morning and looked, there was a woman there as beautiful as he had ever seen. And Ossian said to her, ‘How do you come to be such a beautiful woman today when you came in last night as a crow?’
‘Oh well,’ said the woman to him, ‘I’ve been enchanted, and till someone like you would take me in and give me a bed and food I would have to be a crow. But now,’ said she, ‘I’m your wife as long as we both live, unless you cast up at me in any quarrel the shape in which I arrived here, and if you do that to me,’ said she, ‘I’ll go off as a crow again.’
‘Oh well,’ said Ossian, ‘that’s all right. And I won’t mention that to you ever again.’
Now when morning came and his brothers, his two brothers came in, he was getting ready for when the Féinn left for the hills [to hunt], and when they came in and saw the woman, then they were kicking themselves for not taking her in. But she was Ossian’s now.
And now, many years passed now and Ossian and his wife were together, and this day he was going to the hills and he said – it was stag-hounds they had for the deer and to bring down the deer – and Ossian said to her, ‘Now,’ said he, ‘this bitch should have puppies today,’ and Ossian told her: ‘Put a string round the neck of the first puppy.’ And his wife did that when the bitch had her first puppy: she put a string round its neck. And there came . . . Ossian hadn’t been long gone and the bitch hadn’t long had her puppies when a man came to the door. He knocked at the door and he asked the woman if the bitch had had her puppies, and she said yes.
‘Well,’ said he, ‘I want the first puppy.’
The woman went in and brought out one of the puppies, but she didn’t bring out the firstborn. She brought out one of them and gave it to him. He took the puppy and took hold of its ear and lifted it and shook it, and the puppy started to yelp and, ‘Oh,’ said he, ‘that wasn’t the first puppy.’
But she brought him [all of them] until she had brought him the last of them, and she had to . . . she wasn’t going to give him the one . . . the first puppy, but he told her that if she didn’t give him the first puppy he would cut off her head. Then with fear and everything she went and gave him the puppy, and he took hold of this puppy’s ear and he shook it, and shook it, and shook it. Though he shook it for ever it wouldn’t make a sound. And he put the puppy under his arm and went on his way.
Then Ossian came back, hurrying home from the hill, and he asked where the puppies were. Now when the first puppy had gone his wife had put a string on another one. And Ossian did just the same as the man who came to the door had done: he started shaking them by the ear, and when he shook them and they whimpered until he . . .
‘Well,’ said she – she told him that – that a man had come to the door, and that he had been going to cut off her head unless she gave him the puppy.
Oh, then Ossian lost the head and he said to her, ‘Oh, you black crow,’ said he, ‘who would have expected any better from you?’ And as soon as he said that she turned into a crow and went out, and Ossian rushed after her. And Ossian followed her and followed her, but at last the crow settled on a rock. And Ossian came up with her and begged her to forgive him and come back. ‘Come back.’
‘Oh,’ said she, ‘I can never go back again. I told you the first morning you saw me that if you cast up to me the shape in which I arrived that I couldn’t leave – that I couldn’t stay, that I would have to leave.’ And, ‘But here,’ said she, ‘here’s a ring for you, and put the ring on your finger, and as long as you have this ring you will live. But whatever you do don’t give away the ring. Keep the ring on your finger.’
Then Ossian came back to his shieling, and he was there [until he was] an old man. And he wasn’t able to do much. And then another man came along whom they called Para Naomh-cléireach [Patrick Holyclerk – i.e. St. Patrick], and he was writing books about the story of Ossian, about places Ossian knew. And Ossian was there – he was in bed: he wasn’t able to get out of bed. And this day Para Naomh-cléireach came in and he had a deer and he asked Ossian, ‘Did you ever get a deer among your Féinn that was as big as that?’
Ossian was blind and he was deaf, and Ossian said to him, ‘Lay it [?its leg] on the palm of my hand.’
He laid it on the palm of his hand and Ossian balanced it up and down, and Ossian said to him, ‘Hah,’ said Ossian, ‘many a time have I seen the leg of a fledgling blackbird bigger than that.’
And with the rage that Ossian put Para Naomh-cléireach into he went back to his house, and the books he was writing with Ossian’s help, he started – he was throwing them into the fire. And he had a little girl, and the child started – she was taking some of the books out of the fire again and keeping them.
Ach, now Ossian had a lad who used to work for him, and he said to the lad, ‘Can you,’ said he, ‘carry me outside?’
‘Oh yes,’ said the boy. Then the lad carried him outside.
‘Now,’ said Ossian, ‘we’re going to such and such a place in the moor.’
They got to this place anyhow. There was a birch wood and rushes. And Ossian said to the lad, ‘What can you see?’
‘Oh, I can see a birch wood,’ said the lad, ‘and rushes . . . they’re tall rushes.’
‘Well, just you make for the birch wood and the rushes,’ said Ossian. When they reached the rushes Ossian sa
id to him, ‘Can you see the biggest clump of rushes?’
‘Yes,’ said the lad.
‘Well, climb up it, and when you get to the top of it’ – the rushes would come away. And the boy did that, and when the rushes came away and the turf with them he asked the lad, ‘What can you see?’
‘Oh, I can see,’ said he, ‘dogs here as fine as I have ever seen and there’s one yellow one,’ said he, ‘among them there and I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than her.’
‘Ah, poor Biorach a’ Bhuidheag [“The Sharp Yellow One”],’ said Ossian, ‘the most prized dog the Féinn ever had. Let her out.’ And Biorach a’ Bhuidheag came out, and when she came out she just about ate up Ossian, she was so pleased to see him.
‘Now,’ Ossian told him, ‘make a hole in the ground.’ The lad made a hole in the ground, and, ‘Have you made the hole?’ said Ossian.
‘Yes.’
‘Well, put your head down into it.’ The lad put his head down into the hole. ‘Now,’ said Ossian to him, ‘keep your head in the hole.’ And Ossian let out one yell – ‘Halloo!’ – and the cliffs and the hills, they just about shattered in pieces at Ossian’s cry. And he said to the lad, ‘Raise your head and see what you can see.’
‘Oh,’ said the lad, ‘I can see,’ said he, ‘deer,’ said he. ‘I’ve never seen anything . . . quite as big as them.’
‘Ach,’ said Ossian to him, ‘the . . .?’ said he. ‘Let them pass. Put down your head again.’
The lad put down his head again then, and Ossian let out another cry, and he told the lad to lift his head, and, ‘Oh,’ said the lad, ‘I can’t lift my head. It . . . it’s been just about split in pieces by you.’
‘Och, lift it up. Raise your head.’
The lad lifted his head then, and when he had lifted his head: ‘Oh,’ said the lad, ‘if the first lot were big, I’ve never seen anything,’ said he, ‘bigger than this, and there’s one enormous one at the head of them.’
‘Och well,’ said Ossian, ‘perhaps that will do all right. Let go Biorach a’ Bhuidheag.’ Biorach a’ Bhuidheag went after the deer, and Ossian gave a shout, ‘Has she caught it?’
‘Oh yes,’ said the lad, ‘she has it down.’ She brought down the stag then.
‘Now,’ said Ossian to the lad, ‘take the deer and kindle a fire and cook the deer in its entrails. And give it to me.’
The lad did as Ossian told him. He made the fire and roasted the deer in . . . its entrails. And when he was looking to see if the meat was cooked, ready to give to Ossian; he took a little bit of it and put it in his mouth, and then Ossian ate the food just as it was. And when he had eaten the food Ossian grew strong, and he could see. He had his sight again and he wasn’t deaf. ‘Now,’ said he to the lad, ‘I’m as good as I used to be.’
‘But there’s one thing,’ said he – the lad to him. ‘I can see a little mark on one of your eyes.’
‘Yes,’ he answered, ‘you took a little bit of the deer before you gave it to me, and that’s what put the mark on my eye. But never mind,’ said he to the lad, ‘I’m fit enough again now. Now,’ said he to the lad, ‘I expect you’re wanting something to eat?’
And he took a bow and arrow and went down to the birch wood, and shot a blackbird, and the lad who was along with Ossian, he ate all he could of the blackbird, and Ossian took the blackbird’s leg home with him. And he came to Para Naomh-cléireach and went to his door, and there was a table standing in the middle of the room, and he threw the leg of the fledgling blackbird on to the table, and when he threw it on to the table the four legs of the table broke under it with the weight of the leg. ‘Now,’ said he to him, ‘were those lies I told you now?’
But now, when he [Para Naomh-cléireach] saw the fragments of the papers and the books there . . . these books, then he started gathering them up and putting them together and . . ., until he had made up as much as he could of them again, but he didn’t get half as many books as he had had.
But now time passed and Ossian, he took to his bed again. Well, there wasn’t any food that could do him any good. And one day he gave a shout to the lad who stayed with him: ‘Carry me out,’ said he, ‘to the burn.’ The lad took him out to the burn, and he brought soap and a towel with him too. And the boy was washing Ossian in the bum. And as he was washing him he took the ring off his finger and laid it on a stone. And when he laid the ring on a stone a crow came along and picked up the ring and went off with it.
And Ossian felt something happening to him, as if death were approaching, and he said to the lad, ‘Is the ring . . .?’
‘No,’ said the lad, ‘the . . . a crow carried it off.’
‘Oh, I can believe it did that,’ said he.
‘Oh well,’ said the lad . . .
Said he to the lad, ‘You have seen something no living person but yourself has seen, and you shall not tell what you’ve seen to anyone again.’ And as the boy was washing him he put his hand on the back of this boy’s neck and broke his neck, and the lad fell into the burn, dead.
And Ossian came home to his shieling and . . . he never got up again. He died. And as far as I know that’s the end of the story – that finishes the story – the story of Ossian.
20 Betsy Whyte
THE PRINCESS AND THE PUPS
WELL IT WIS THIS YOUNG king an queen, ye see, an they were as happy as happy could be, they’d everything to make life happy fir them, an a bonnie wee princess an everything, and they were livin just fine. But in a country miles an hundreds o miles awa, there wis this big giant, and he took a notion to this bairn, ye see: he’d haerd aboot this folk, and haerd aboot this wee princess, and he came and stole the bairn awa. Now this young king and queen they were haertbroken aboot their bairn, an thocht they would never get it back, the size o this man. Noo, he says to his queen, he says, ‘You content yirsel an,’ he says, ‘by hook or by crook I’ll get the bairn back,’ he says, ‘tae ye.’
An she was greetin an cairryin on an she says, ‘You’ll gang awaa an maybe you’ll never come back tae.’
He says, ‘A’ll come back, dinna you worry.’ He says, ‘You try an content yirsel tae I come back.’ So away he goes in saerch o his bairn, an he’s hey tae the road and ho tae the road, through hills an dales an every place. An as he wis gaen awaa, there’s an aald man goin alang the road, an he walked alang the road wi this aald man fir a bit, an they met anither man on the road, a younger kin o man. They were aa traivellin on thegither, but nane o them kent wha he wis, ye see, he wis jist anither man tae them, lookin for work, an they thocht he wis lookin for work tae. An he says to this yin, ‘Whit do you dae?’
He says, ‘A mak boats,’ he says, ‘A’m a boatbuilder.’ He says, ‘That’s what I dae,’ he says, ‘an A’m jist lookin for work.’
He says, ‘Will you come wi me,’ he says, ‘an A’ll maybe get ye something tae dae.’
He says, ‘Aa rycht then.’ But the other aald man, he left them, an he went awaa some other wey. But they twa, they kept marchin on and on, an danderin on an on, an jist a drink o water here an there an sometimes they’d beg a wee bit breid tae theirsels in some hoose and some fairmer would let them lie in their barn, an they kept goin on an on an on. And as they were walkin on they met anither man, an he wis lookin for work tae. An this young king says tae him, ‘Whit dae ye dae?’
He says, ‘Oh me,’ he says, ‘dinnae ask me whit . . . I dae,’ he says. ‘I shouldnae be nae company for naebody.’
He says, ‘Whit wey that?’
He says, ‘Well, tae tell ye the truth,’ he says, ‘aa ma life,’ he says, ‘A’ve jist lived wi thievin an roguin,’ he says. ‘There’s naebody in the world ’ll thieve an steal better ’n me,’ he says. ‘A’ve had tae dae it tae keep mysel livin.’
‘Ah,’ the keeng says tae him, ‘but there’s aye room for everybody in this world,’ he said, ‘an we micht find something for you tae dae an aa. You come wi me tae,’ he says, ‘A’ve an idea A micht find something for you tae dae an aa.’ He s
ays, ‘An ye’re good at it?’
He says, ‘Oh, the world’s best.’ He says, ‘There nobody ’ll hear me or see me,’ he says: ‘I could steal onything.’
So as they went alang, he proved he wis as good as his word, fir he used tae go oot an in tae places an chore gaanies [steal chickens] an eggs an things, an kept them livin as they were gaan alang the road. Noo they’re walkin alang an they seen this ither man: he wis lookin fir work tae. (They were aa – nae work tae be gotten, ye see, or nae money or nothin.) An the keeng says, ‘What dae you dae?’
He says, ‘Well, I wis a marksman,’ he said, ‘actually earn’t ma livin as a marksman,’ he said. ‘You can set up any target,’ he says, ‘up tae a . . . two hundred yards,’ he says, ‘an A’ll hit it dead on, supposin it’s no the size of a midge.’
He says, ‘Oh well,’ he says, ‘there bound tae be something that you can dae an aa,’ he says, ‘you come alang wi me.’ So on they goes an on they goes tae they came tae this big sea that they had – the king kent he hid tae cross this sea tae get tae whar this giant wis, ye see? So when he came tae the sea he says, ‘Well, boatman,’ he says, ‘it’s your turn,’ he says. ‘We need a boat.’
So this boatman, he went away an he got the ither yin that wis the thief tae kill twa big ox fir him, an he got the skins an he made a smashin boat fir him. An they got intae the boat an away they go, across the water and across the water an across the water, tae they came tae the land ’at this big giant lived in. An when they got there, they come ashore and walked tae they come near this big castle whar the giant lived. Now this young keeng said tae this yin that wis the thief, he says, ‘You,’ he says, ‘A’ve tae depend on now.’ He says, ‘You go up tae that huge castel,’ he says, ‘and see if ye can see hycht or hair o a wee young infant lassie,’ he says, ‘a wee princess: it’s my bairn ’at they stole, an,’ he says, ‘A want her back. An,’ he says, ‘ye’ll come back an tell me if ye see or hear onything aboot her.’
Scottish Traditional Tales Page 19
