Jack and the Devil's Purse (5 page)

And neither the boy ever did. And that castle is called ‘Woe be tae ye’. It means
no one enter
– in Gaelic.

And that is a true story.

Now my story takes you back a long time ago to a village in the north of Scotland. It was served by the local community, all farming folk, who came from outlying regions and hill farms. And in this small village there was only one inn where the farmers and shepherds and ploughmen came for a drink on a Saturday evening. At the end of the village was the churchyard that served the whole community. Not only were the people who died in the village buried in the churchyard, but also the farmers of the outlying regions were buried in this cemetery.

So they gathered one evening in the inn. Farmers, shepherds, hill workers, peat cutters came in for their usual weekend at the pub. And they stood there and they had their drinks, they had their talks and they discussed many wonderful things. One by one they all finally moved away to go back to their homes.

But there were about a dozen of them left. And the subject they were discussing was the graveyard outside the village, how many people were buried in the cemetery, how long had the people been buried in it, how old it really was.

And then someone spoke up and said, ‘How about the ghost?’

And they said, ‘The ghost!’

Oh, everyone knew of the ghost. Many people in the village had reported seeing a ghost at the gate of the graveyard many nights. Many people had seen it, but nobody would believe them.

But in the bar was a girl named Margaret. Now, Margaret was a shepherdess who worked for a local farmer. And she was as good as any man – she could clip a sheep as quick as any man, cowp a sheep on its back and clip it, she could cut peats, she could do anything. She was neither feart o’ God, man or the Devil! And they respected her. She was just a young unmarried woman. She was as strong as any man. And she was one of the last ones left in the pub discussing with the men about the local cemetery.

So the subject got around about the ghost. And it was the owner of the inn who spoke up:

‘I bet ye there’s not one among yese would even go to the graveyard at twelve o’clock! Yese are all standing there talking about it. But there not one among yese who would go up to the graveyard and even view the ghost close up!’

Then up spoke Maggie: ‘Look, mister,’ she said to the pub owner, ‘I’m not feart o’ neither ghost, man or the Devil. And I’ll go to the graveyard, and if there is a ghost there I’ll wait. And if it comes I’ll tell ye what I’ll do wi ye: I’ll bring ye back his shroud or his cloth that he keeps himself white with – we all ken a spirit or a ghost needs something to cover him to keep white – it’s no his skeleton folk sees! I’ll go up and I’ll bring it back to ye. I’ll put it on the bar, then will you believe it?’

‘No,’ he says, ‘no, Maggie, no way. Please don’t do it! We’re only makin fun.’

She says, ‘Look, yese are all supposed to be brave men. Ye’re all supposed to be great heroes, among the whole crowd o’ yese while yese hae got a drink in yese. But I’m no
a man, but I’m no feart o’ God, man or the Devil. And I’ll go tonight providin you keep the pub open till after twelve o’clock. And if there’s a ghost there, if he’s standing at the gate and if he has a shroud or a sheet on him – I’ll bring it back to ye – and fling it ower yer bar!’

‘Well,’ he said, ‘Maggie, if that’s the way ye want it. I’ll tell ye, I’ll mak it better for ye: I’ll mak a wager wi ye. If there’s such a thing as men hae been reportin about, and if you see a ghost and you bring it back – his shroud to me and put it on the bar – I’ll mak it worth your while. I’ll give ye five guineas and a bottle o’ whisky to yersel!’

She says, ‘Done!’

So they sat there and they drank and the clock on the wall said a quarter to twelve. Now in these bygone times the inn owners could keep their pubs open the whole night through, as long as there were people standing to drink.

So she said goodbye to them at the bar and she walked up to the graveyard gate. She stood. She heard the clock in the village striking twelve o’clock as she stood at the gate.

And then across from the gate she saw something white standing with a long shroud on it. And being Maggie, who was neither feart o’ God, man, beast or the Devil, she walked up and said, ‘Ye’re the ghost that’s frightening everybody, aren’t ye? Well, ye canna frighten me!’

And she catcht the cloot that was ower him, a white shroud, and she pulled it off him. And she put it under her oxter.

There he stood in front o’ her, a naked skeleton, nothing but the bones.

And she turned her back on him, she walked onwards. As she’s walking on he’s coming behind her step after step saying, ‘
Thoir dhomh air ais mo léine
–
give me my sheet, I’m cold!
She said, ‘Ye’ll get nae sheet from me.’ And on she walked.

And he walked on after her. ‘Oh, give me my sheet,’ he was crying. ‘
Thoir dhomh air ais mo léine
–
give me my sheet, I’m cold, I’m cold, give me back my sheet
.’

So they walked on till they came to the inn. And the door of the inn was open. He was coming closer and closer to her . . . by this time she began to get kind o’ feart that there was really something behind her terrible. And she couldna stand his voice any longer.

He was saying, ‘
Thoir dhomh air ais mo léine
–
give me my sheet, I’m cold
!

And she could see the lights. Now by this time she was feart! Really feart, terrified. But she still kept the sheet under her oxter. And she came up to the door of the inn. And she couldna stand it any longer:

‘Well,’ she says, ‘ye’ve followed me far enough – there’s yer sheet!’

Now, he had no power to touch her till he got his sheet back. But as quick as you could draw a breath he picked up that sheet, wrapped it round him and as she was disappearing inside the door of the inn – and the last part of her was her foot going in through the door – he came down on her foot with his hand! He cut her heel, the last part to disappear into the light, and cut the heel off her.

She staggered into the inn and collapsed before all the people in the inn. And they rushed round her. There was her heel cut completely off as if it had been done with a knife. This woman was Maggie, she was a herdswoman, a powerful woman, who was as powerful as any man. She sat there in silent agony with her heel gone.

So they asked her what happened, and she told them the story. She’d pulled the sheet from the wreft, or the skeleton. And she told them it had followed her to the inn. She couldna withstand it any longer, she had to throw him the sheet.

And they said, ‘Why didn’t you bring the sheet in, and he would never hae touched ye.’

But that was her mistake. Anyhow, she got her five guineas and the bottle of whisky. A cart and horse came to take her back to the farm where she lived.

But after that, that great Maggie, the woman who was as powerful as any man, who could clip sheep, dig drains, do anything, who was neither feart o’ God or man or the Devil, just sat there in her chair, a cripple for three months. Never able to do another thing.

And then three months later she was found hanged by the neck in the farmer’s barn. She hanged herself on a rope. And the story went on . . .

When people reported later, when they came to the pub, let it be true or a lie, that sometimes when they were passing by the gate of the graveyard coming home, let them be drunk or sober, they saw the reflection of not one white thing standing at the gate of the graveyard, but
two
.

A long time ago, long before your time and mine, there wonst lived a rich farmer. This farmer was very well off. He had worked hard all his life and had everything his heart desired. But he had also three grown-up sons. There was Willie and Sandy and the youngest laddie, Jack. Now, the three sons had worked for their father all their lives. Even Jack. Jack wasn’t lazy; Jack was very clever. In fact, the father had great respect for them all. But because there were three sons, one night he and his wife were sitting talking things over.

‘Look, I’m getting too old for running this place,’ he said. ‘Me and you could get a wee house in the village. We could give the farm to the laddies. They could run it for themselves.’

And the mother says, ‘Aye, that’ll be fine, husband. But what about the fighting, the squabbling and arguing that’ll go on between them if you give it to the three of them?’

‘Well, I can’t give it to one of them and leave the other two with nothing.’ So he thought it over for a wee while and he said, ‘I’ve got a better idea. The three of them are single. None of them’s got a wife. And none of them’s courting any lassies in the village that I ken about. So I’ll tell you what I’ll do, wife. I’ll call them before me in the morning and I’ll make it plain. I’m going to send them into the world, each in
a different direction. And I want them to go and seek their own fortunes for one year. I’m sending them out to seek wives for themselves. And the one that brings the most handsome young woman back for their wife will get the farm! And then there’ll be no squabbling.’

Oh, the old woman was overjoyed. She thought this was a wonderful idea. So they went to their bed. The old man and woman chatted away all night and thought it was a good idea.

She was ay thinking, ‘What about Jack? Jack’s kind o’ bashful and he’s kind o’ young.’ Jack would be about eighteen at the time.

‘Ah well,’ he said, ‘Jack’ll just have to take his chance along with the rest.’

So the next morning when the old woman got up she put breakfast, ham and eggs and stuff down for the laddies. They were all sitting round the old wooden table in the kitchen. And after the farmer had finished his breakfast and leaned back: ‘Laddies,’ he said, ‘I want to tell you something this morning.’

So the laddies were waiting to get their jobs, what their father wanted done.

He said: ‘Me and your mother’s been thinking. I’m getting kind o’ old for this farm and we want to take a wee cottage in the village. And we want to leave the farm to youse. But we can’t leave it to the three o’ youse. Because I ken what like it will be; there’ll be two or more arguing. You’ll be wanting to do this and you’ll be wanting to do that. And things will never work out. So me and your mother have thought o’ a plan. We’re going to give you each a bit o’ money to keep you going, and send you each out into the world. Now I want youse each to go in a different direction. One go east, one go west, one go north
or south, I don’t care. But youse are no’ all going the same way. And to make sure, I’m going to send youse out a day after each other, ahind each other. Now the one who brings back the most beautiful young woman to be their wife in the one year to the day that you leave this house, the one that brings back the bonniest and handsomest young woman to this house before me and your mother will get the whole farm to themselves for the rest of their life! And I’ll pay for all the arrangements for a good wedding day. I’ll give you all everything you require. We’ll have a great session, a great get-together when youse all return. But youse must all return a year from the day, because I must have only one wedding day. So will you do that for me? Do youse agree to that?’

‘Oh, Father!’ they said, and they thought it was a wonderful idea.

‘Now all come on,’ he says, ‘before me and your mother, shake hands on it!’

So the three laddies shook hands across the table. The agreement was made.

‘Now,’ he says ‘remember, if one o’ youse comes back with a bonnie wife and the other two come back with nothing, there’ll be no squabbling!’

They made their promise to their father.

So that day the old farmer went up and got a puckle money. And it was Sandy, the oldest brother.

‘Right, Sandy,’ he says, ‘there’s your money. Take as many clothes with you as you want. Now off you go! I’ll send Willie off the morn. What direction are you going, son?’

‘Ach, Father,’ he says, ‘I’ll go north.’

So they bade him goodbye at the door and away he went.

The next day it was Willie’s turn. So Willie stood at the door. The old farmer gave him money. And he took a wee
puckle clothes with him, whatever he wanted, a few things he got from his mother to keep him along the road.

‘What way are you going now, Willie?’ the old farmer says.

‘Ach,’ Willie says, ‘I’ll go east.’

‘All right,’ the farmer says, ‘mind you go! Remember, a year and a day you’d better be back here, wife or no wife!’

So off Willie went.

Now the third day it was Jack’s turn. The old man and woman came to the door. You ken, the old woman was near in tears because this was her youngest laddie!

‘God knows what’ll happen to them,’ she says. ‘They could get into trouble and they could spend all their money . . . God knows what’ll happen to them!’

But the old farmer says, ‘We made the plan, didn’t we? Well, you agreed with it as much as I did.’

So he gave Jack his money. Jack kissed his mother, shook hands with his father.

‘Where are you going, brother?’ he says to Jack.

‘Ach, Father, I’ll go west. I’ll follow the wind.’

So anyway, we’ll have to start with Sandy, the eldest brother. Sandy travels on and on he goes. A couple of days going here and going there. And Sandy was a good worker. He came to this farm and he asked for lodgings.

‘Oh,’ the farmer said, ‘I’ll give you lodgings, laddie.’

He had travelled for two days. He was well away from where his father and mother were. ‘I’ll give you lodgings, fine. But you’ll have to do me a wee bit work first.’

‘Oh,’ Sandy said, ‘I’m willing to work!’

‘You’d better come in,’ he said, ‘and have something to eat then.’

So he brought him in to the table. And the first thing
turned in was this young woman, a bonnie-looking young lassie. And she’s serving. She’s looking at Sandy and putting all these tasty things in front o’ him. Sandy looked and eyed her up and down.

‘Aye,’ he says, ‘she’s no bad. She’s no bad at all! That would suit me fine!’ So he sat and cracked to the old farmer. He told him, ‘I’ll do all the work you want. In fact, I’m looking for a job.’ The farmer was so pleased with Sandy’s work, within a week Sandy stayed there. He bade with the old farmer.