Scottish Traditional Tales

by A. J. Bruford

Riobaidh nudged Robaidh and Robaidh nudged Riobaidh. Off they went to meet Brionnaidh and they greeted Brionnaidh:

  ‘Well, Brionnaidh, here you are.’

  ‘Yes,’ said he – Brionnaidh.

  ‘And how did you get on?’

  ‘I got on very well,’ said he. ‘See how much money I got for the hide.’

  ‘Yes indeed!’ said they. ‘Hadn’t we better kill our own cow now,’ said they, ‘and take her hide.’

  ‘Well indeed you’d better,’ said he – Brionnaidh.

  This is what they did. They made for the byre. They set about the cow until they had killed it, and when they had killed the cow they took it out and skinned it, and when they had skinned it and folded up the hide they set out for the city to sell it.

  Anyway, when they reached the city they began to shout:

  ‘Who will buy a cow hide?’

  And, my goodness, not a soul would have anything to do with them. At last the police threatened them that unless they cleared out of the town they would be put in prison. My goodness, they made for home.

  Brionnaidh knew now that they really had their knife in him and that they would stop at nothing if they got a chance at him. So this night what he did was, he said to his mother:

  ‘Mother,’ said he, ‘tonight you’d better go to my room,’ said he, ‘and I’ll go to your room,’ said he.

  ‘Yes,’ said she – his mother.

  This was what happened. He went to his mother’s room and his mother went to his room to sleep.

  When Riobaidh and Robaidh thought Brionnaidh was asleep they made for his house and they went in and set about Brionnaidh’s mother till they had killed her, and when they had done this they made for the door.

  Brionnaidh rose in the morning. He went in to see his mother: his mother was dead.

  Oh well, it couldn’t be helped. He knew fine who had done it.

  Anyway, when he saw this he went and set his mother standing up and dressed her in all the best clothes she had and set off with her on his back to the city.

  He reached the city – well, the outskirts of the city anyway – and he came upon a big well there and he put down his mother and set her standing above the well and put a walking-stick to keep her upright; and there was a big house a short way beyond the well and he went over to the big house and knocked at the door and the lady of the house came to the door and asked him what he wanted.

  ‘Well,’ said he, ‘I would like a drink. I’ve come a long way,’ said he, ‘and I’m thirsty.’

  ‘All right,’ said she, ‘you’ll get that,’ said she. ‘Come in,’ said she.

  And she made him sit down at the table and spread out all sorts of food on the table.

  ‘Go on then,’ said she, ‘and take your food there,’ said she.

  ‘Well,’ said he, ‘I left my mother over at the well,’ said he, ‘and I know that she’d take something too,’ said he, ‘if she could get it, and I’d better go and fetch her,’ said he.

  ‘Not at all,’ said she. ‘You have your meal and the girl can go,’ said she.

  ‘Well, if the girl goes,’ said he, ‘my mother’s rather deaf. If you shout at her and she can’t hear you, you’ll have to go up and give her a little shake.’

  And this is what happened. The girl went and started shouting to the old woman who was standing over the well and the old woman paid no attention whatever. Anyway, she went up and shook the old woman and the old woman went head first into the well.

  Och, the girl came back to the house in a mortal panic and told them that the old woman had fallen head first into the well.

  ‘And I believe,’ said she, ‘that she’s been drowned.’

  And, my goodness, out rushed the lady of the house and out rushed the man himself and out rushed Brionnaidh. So then:

  ‘You’d better not say a word about it,’ said he, the gentleman. He was a gentleman, it seems.

  ‘We shall bury your mother,’ said he, ‘since things have turned out as they have, and a great wake will be held for her,’ said he, ‘and you will get a good sum over and above that,’ said he, ‘if you don’t say a word about what has happened,’ said he.

  ‘Oh no, I won’t,’ said he – Brionnaidh.

  My goodness, the old woman was taken over to the duke’s house and a coffin and shroud provided for her and a great funeral arranged for her, and when this was done, the duke – if he was a duke: he was a gentleman anyway – handed over a great sum to Brionnaidh, and not a word to be said about what had happened.

  And Brionnaidh made for home and the others were at their house watching for him till he came and when they saw him and he was getting near the house, then Riobaidh nudged Robaidh and Robaidh nudged Riobaidh and off they went to meet Brionnaidh.

  ‘Well, Brionnaidh, here you are.’

  ‘Yes,’ said he – Brionnaidh.

  ‘And how did you get on?’

  ‘Very well,’ said he. ‘I sold my mother, and I got all that money for her,’ said he – showing them the bag.

  ‘Did you indeed?’ said they.

  ‘I did,’ said he.

  ‘And hadn’t we better kill our own mother and go off with her?’

  ‘Yes, indeed, you’d better,’ said he – Brionnaidh.

  And that’s how it was: they went off home. They set about their mother till they had killed her, and when they had done that, they set off for the city with her. And when they reached the city they were shouting:

  ‘Who will buy a dead old woman? Who will buy a dead old woman?’

  And, my goodness, the police swooped on them – they were to clear out of the city with the old woman or they would be put in prison and never get out as long as they lived.

  Riobaidh and Robaidh just had to go back home with their mother, relieved to have got away with it, and Brionnaidh knew now that they would be out to get him again – that they would do anything to him to finish him off. And when Brionnaidh saw them coming he made for the hills and off they went after him – Riobaidh and Robaidh. But Brionnaidh was faster than them and was getting the better of them.

  Anyway, when he had gone some distance into the hills, whom should he meet but a shepherd with a number of sheep and a dog. He made straight for the shepherd.

  ‘You’d better take off your clothes,’ said he, ‘so that I can put them on,’ said he, ‘and I’ll take off my own clothes and you can put them on,’ said he, ‘and I’m only asking you to do this for a short time,’ said he, ‘and you’ll get that bag of money if you’ll do it,’ said he – Brionnaidh.

  ‘Yes,’ said he – the shepherd. ‘I will,’ said he.

  And he did that: the shepherd took off his clothes and Brionnaidh took off his own clothes and the shepherd put on Brionnaidh’s clothes, and he put on the shepherd’s clothes.

  ‘Well, now,’ said he. ‘Carry on now in the direction I was going in,’ said he, ‘and I’ll go the way you were going,’ said he, ‘with the sheep and with the dog,’ said he.

  The others appeared, Riobaidh and Robaidh and they followed [the shepherd], thinking it was Brionnaidh. They set upon him with stones and clods till they had driven him into a big loch that was there and when they had done that the man was drowned in the loch and they went home. And Brionnaidh had hidden; there was no sign of Brionnaidh.

  Anyway, Brionnaidh went and made for home with the sheep and the dog, and wearing the shepherd’s clothes. My goodness, they noticed him coming.

  ‘God bless my soul, is this you, Brionnaidh?’

  ‘It is,’ said he, ‘I’m home.’

  ‘But I thought,’ said he [sic], ‘that you had been drowned in the loch.’

  ‘Oh no, I wasn’t,’ said he. ‘When I reached the bottom of the loch,’ said he, ‘this good man was there before me,’ said he, ‘and he told me to go back as quickly as ever I could,’ said he, ‘and that he would give me the dog and the sheep and shepherd’s clothes: and that was what I did,’ said he. ‘The shepherd gave me his own clothes,’ sai
d he, ‘and I put them on and he gave me the sheep,’ said he, ‘and the dog.’

  ‘Well then, hadn’t you better drive us into the loch, and who knows but we may find him too.’

  ‘Well indeed I’d better,’ said he – Brionnaidh.

  This was what happened. Brionnaidh went after them and set upon them with stones and with clods till he had driven them into the loch. And when he had done that he went home, and they never troubled Brionnaidh again.

  That’s how I heard it.

  23 Samuel Thorburn

  THE BUTLER’S SON

  A LONG TIME AGO, there was a laird in the Highlands – I cannot tell you where he was – but the butler he had had been with him for a very long time. He was a fine honourable man and his master was very pleased with him. But the butler had a son and when he grew up to the age at which he could be useful for service in the big house, he was brought in there.

  He had not been very long there when a lot of gold and silver articles went missing and nobody knew where they were. But it was found out that it was the young boy who had taken them – he’d stolen them. And the laird spoke to his father and said to him that he must send the boy away, otherwise, if he didn’t send him away, they’d both have to go together with their whole family, and he would have to get a new man in his place.

  The father agreed to send the boy away, and he went with him himself in order to apprentice him to a trade in some place. And he reached the town of Glasgow with him, and on the night he arrived, a man came to speak to both of them in the street, realising that they were strangers that he didn’t normally see. They got into conversation and he asked him what business brought him to the town.

  ‘I came with this boy,’ said he, ‘so that I could put him where he could learn a trade.’

  ‘Well then,’ said the man, ‘I will teach him a trade.’

  ‘What trade will you teach him?’ said the father to him.

  ‘Robbing,’ said he.

  ‘Well, indeed,’ said the father, ‘I don’t think that will be very difficult for you since it is something like that that has put him here.’ And he told the man what he had done.

  ‘That makes him all the better,’ said he.

  The father handed the boy over to the robber. And he went with him, and the robbers had a queer place where they lived – this one wasn’t alone at all, there was a gang of them.

  When the boy had had a rest, one of them took him out one night to show him how to work things, and let him get to know the town. He went to a big watchmaker’s shop there. And they went in together and the robber said to the man on the other side of the counter that he had come to buy a watch. And he gave a brief description of the kind he wanted – he wanted a gold watch. The man set a box of watches over in front of him, and he looked at them, and ‘Have you got another kind?’ said he.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said the man.

  ‘Show me some more,’ said he.

  While the man turned his back, he was looking at the watches and he put one of them down his sleeve. And the man came over with the other box and he looked among them.

  ‘Oh,’ said he, ‘none of these will do, they’re not what I’m looking for.’

  ‘Oh, if they aren’t,’ said the man, ‘it cannot be helped.’

  He went away and the young boy stayed. And when the robber had gone off with the watch he said to the man who was over behind the counter:

  ‘Did you see,’ said he, ‘the thing that that man did?’

  ‘What did he do?’ said the man.

  ‘Dash it,’ said he, ‘he put one of your watches in his sleeve and went off with it.’

  The man counted the watches, and wasn’t he short of a watch right enough? He ran out to get a policeman – to chase the man, but the man wasn’t to be seen. And when the young boy got him out of the way he put the lid on one of the boxes and he put it under his jacket and he himself went and took another road; it was not the road he thought the man who had gone after the robber had taken that he took.

  He arrived at the place where the robbers were staying and he went in.

  ‘Dash it,’ said the robber to him, ‘did you see now how neatly I worked that? Do you think you would be able to do such a thing?’

  ‘Aye, it was very good,’ said the young boy, ‘but I think I have done every bit as well as you,’ and he took the box out from under his oxter and he put it on the table, full of watches.

  That was that. It was a night or two later that they left again and went out to the country to rob a house there in which there were riches. And they got in without anyone hearing them. They were going about and there was a cellar in the house and they lowered the young boy down into that cellar on a rope to see if he found valuables there. He wasn’t long down when the people of the house heard something and they got up and the robbers fled and got clean away without being caught. The young one didn’t know what to do. It didn’t seem that there was anyone up there who could haul him up on the rope, nor indeed was there a rope to be seen. But it seems that he had something – he lit a match or something and looked around. In a corner of the cellar he saw the hide of an ox or a cow that had been skinned and the horns and everything on it and the legs. And he couldn’t see a better way than to wrap it around himself. And he took one of the legs of the beast in each hand and he began to knock and strike everything around him, and he made a dreadful noise and din. And it seems that somebody came above him and shouted to him, ‘Who is that?’

  ‘It is I,’ said he.

  ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Oh,’ said he, naming the Evil One by name, ‘I am he, and if you do not give me the keys of the house so that I can get out of here I will take you and the house along with me on my horns.’

  The man looked down. Evidently he had some light and down there he saw the most awful apparition that he had ever seen. There was nothing for it but to throw the keys to him, and he began to open doors until he got outside.

  When he got outside, I believe he threw the keys away, but he kept the hide – he took it with him. He arrived at the robbers’ hideout and what were they doing – they had sold a lot of the loot they had got, and what were they doing but quarrelling about sharing it. And he put his head with the horns in through some hole, and he banged with the legs on something and he shouted to them very loudly. ‘Leave it for me,’ said he; ‘you have been working for me a long time earning it.’ Everybody fled, the one who couldn’t grab a bow would grab a sword, and they went in all directions and before he could blink an eye there was not a living soul in the place, and the money was there for him in heaps. He went in and gathered up every last brass farthing of it and took it with him.

  He left then and made for his father’s house. He got home. ‘Oh, you wretched wrecker,’ said his father, ‘what sent you home here? I will lose my job and we shall all have to go.’ But anyway it came to the laird’s ears that he had come, or else he himself saw him, I don’t know which, and he sent for his father.

  ‘Did I not understand,’ said he, ‘that your son was sent away to learn a trade?’

  ‘Oh, I did that,’ said the other, ‘but he wasn’t long away when he came home.’

  ‘Well, he couldn’t learn a trade,’ said he, ‘in the time that he was away.’

  ‘Oh well, I think he learnt it very well,’ said his father, ‘it seems that he did very well while he was away.’

  ‘And what trade was it?’

  ‘Robbing,’ said he.

  ‘Oh well, if he learnt his trade as well as that,’ said he, ‘go home and say to him,’ said he, ‘that I will put a bullet through his head tomorrow,’ said he, ‘if he doesn’t steal the sheet that will be under myself and my wife as we sleep in the bed tonight.’

  ‘Oh well,’ said the father to him, ‘you might just as well go and do it now,’ said he, ‘because he hasn’t got the ability to do that.’

  ‘I won’t do it just now,’ said he, ‘until he fails to do that. But if he fails I will do it.’<
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  When his father went home he told this to the boy and the boy was not put out in the least. He went off when night came and there was a body in the churchyard which had been buried a day or two before. And he went and dug it up and he got clothing belonging to himself and dressed the body up with it. He put it on his shoulder and he went to the laird’s house during the night when everyone had gone to bed. He got a ladder and placed it against the window of the bedroom of the laird and his wife. And when he put it to the window he had a rope and he tied it to the body down below and went up the ladder dragging the body with him. And he managed to raise the laird’s bedroom window and he put its head against the window.

  ‘Here he comes,’ said the laird, ‘but if he has come he will not go as he came.’ He had a gun by his side in the bed, and the one who was outside [was] putting the head of the body in, bit by bit, and when the laird made out the side of its head coming in at the window he fired a shot. And as he did, the man outside threw – gave the body a little push inside and it made a thump on the floor below the window. And the laird jumped out of bed. ‘I must go,’ said he, ‘and put him out of sight somewhere,’ said he, ‘and we won’t let on that he ever came; no matter what people say we won’t let on that we ever saw him and there won’t be many questions asked about him.’

  That is how it was. He got up and went away with the body. And it seems that when the young lad who was outside had got the laird away carrying the body, he went running inside, and he knew which way to go with the previous knowledge he had of the house. And he reached the bedroom of the laird and his wife and, ‘Oh,’ said he, ‘that brute is awfully heavy to carry,’ said he. ‘I don’t know what to get to put him in. Give me,’ he said, ‘this sheet on the bed,’ said he, ‘and I will put him in it and go with him.’ He got the sheet and he left. The wife thought that it was her husband right enough, but it was not long till her husband came and she was looking for another sheet to put on the bed. She didn’t like to waken the household, the servants, and again she didn’t want what had happened to be discovered, and she was looking for something to put on the bed. ‘Dash it,’ said her husband, the laird to her, ‘why are you up at this time?’