Hoy, one of the Orkney Islands

Far up in a green valley in the Island of Hoy stands an immense boulder. It is hollow inside, and the people of these northern islands call it the Dwarfie Stone, because long centuries ago, Snorro the Dwarf lived there; so the legend has it.

Nobody knew where Snorro came from, or how long he had dwelt in the dark chamber inside the Dwarfie Stone. All that they knew about him was that he was a little man with a queer, twisted, deformed body and a face of marvellous beauty, which never seemed to look any older, but was always smiling and young.

Men said that this was because Snorro's father had been a fairy, and not a human, and had given the gift of perpetual youth to his son, but nobody knew whether this were true or not, for the dwarf had lived in the Dwarfie Stone long before the oldest man or woman in Hoy had been born.

But one thing was sure. He had inherited from his mother, whom all men agreed had been mortal, the dangerous qualities of vanity and ambition. And the longer he lived the more vain and ambitious he became, until at last he always carried a mirror of polished steel round his neck and constantly looked into the mirror to see his handsome face.

And he would not attend to the country people who came to seek his help, unless they bowed humbly before him and spoke to him as if he were a king.

People sought his help because he seemed to spend his time in collecting herbs and other medical plants on the hillsides. After carrying them home to his dark abode, he distilled medicines and potions from them and sold them to his neighbours at high prices.

He also owned of a leather-covered book, clasped with clasps of brass, and would pore for hours over it. Afterwards he could tell the Islanders their fortunes, if they would.

They feared the book almost as much as they feared Snorro himself, for it was whispered that it had once belonged to Odin, the mighty Enchanter. But they never guessed the real reason why Snorro chose to live in the Dwarfie Stone.

Not very far from the stone there was a curious hill, shaped exactly like a wart. It was known as the Wart Hill of Hoy, and men said that somewhere in the side of it was hidden a wonderful red, precious stone, which, when it was found, would bestow on its finder marvellous magic gifts health, wealth, and happiness - everything that a human being could desire. It was also said that the precious stone could be seen at certain times when the people who were looking for it were at the right spot at the right moment.

Snorro had made up his mind that he would find this wonderful stone, so, while he walked around in the hillsides, he was noting every tuft of grass or piece of rock it might be hidden beneath. And at night, when everyone else was asleep, he would creep out, with pickaxe and spade, to turn over the rocks or dig over the turf, in the hope of finding the treasure underneath them.

He was always accompanied on these occasions by an enormous grey-headed raven who lived in the cave with him, and who was his bosom friend and companion. The islanders feared this bird perhaps as much as they feared its master. For although they went to consult Snorro in all their difficulties and perplexities, they always looked on him with a certain dread, feeling that there was something weird and uncanny about him.

At that time, Orkney was governed by two earls who were half-brothers. Paul, the elder, was a tall, handsome man with dark hair, and eyes like sloes. He was so skilled in knightly exercises and had such a sweet and loving nature that all were fond of him. However, he spoke so little that men called him Paul the Silent, or Paul the Taciturn.

Harold, on the other hand, was fair-haired and blue-eyed, and was always free of speech and ready with his tongue. But he was haughty, jealous, and quick-tempered, and the old folks' eyes did not brighten at the sight of him, and the babes hid their faces in their mothers' skirts when they saw him coming, instead of toddling out to greet him.

Harold could not help knowing that the people liked his silent brother best, and this made him jealous of him.

Now it chanced that Earl Harold one summer went on a visit to the king of Scotland. His mother, the countess Helga, and her sister, the countess Fraukirk, accompanied him.

And while he was at court, he met a charming young Irish lady, the lady Morna. She had come from Ireland to Scotland to attend on the Scottish queen. She was so sweet, good, and gentle that Earl Harold made up his mind that she was the one to be his bride.

But even though he had paid her much attention, Lady Morna had no wish to marry him. To his great amazement, she refused the honour that he offered her.

Earl Harold ground his teeth in silent rage, but it was no use pressing further at that moment. What he could not get by his own merits he determined to get by guile. He therefore begged his mother to persuade Lady Morna to go back with them on a visit. He hoped that when she was alone with him in Orkney, he could induce her to become his wife. He never thought his taciturn brother could be his rival there. But that was just what happened.

Lady Morna accepted the invitation of his mother, and no sooner had the party got back in Orkney than Paul fell head over ears in love with the fair Irish woman. And Morna loved him back from the very first hour she saw him.

They could not hide their love for long, and when Harold realised what had happened, his anger and jealousy knew no bounds. Seizing a dagger, he rushed up to the small tower where his brother was sitting in his private rooms, and threatened to stab him to the heart if he did not promise to give up all thoughts of winning the Irish woman.

But Paul met him with pleasant words. "Calm down, brother," he said. "I love the lady, but that is no proof that I shall win her. Is it likely that she will choose me, whom all men name Paul the Silent, when she has the chance of marrying you, whose tongue moves so swiftly that you are called Harold the Orator?"

At these words Harold was flattered, and he thought that after all his step-brother was right, and that Paul had a very small chance of being successful with his meagre gift of speech. So he threw down his dagger, and shaking hands with Paul, begged him to pardon his unkind thoughts. Then he went down the winding stair again in a good mood.

By this time it was coming near to the feast of Yule, and at that festival it was the custom for the earl and his court to leave Kirkwell for some weeks and go to the great castle of Orphir [1], nine miles away from there. And in order to see that everything was ready, Earl Paul left some days before the others.

The evening before he left, he chanced to find the lady Morna sitting alone in one of the deep windows of the great hall. She had been weeping, for she was full of sadness at the thought that he should leave. At the sight of her distress, the kind-hearted young earl could no longer contain himself. He took her in his arms and whispered to her how much he loved her, and begged her to be his wife.

She agreed willingly. Hiding her rosy face on his shoulder, she confessed that she had loved him from the very first day that she had seen him. That moment she had determined that if she could not wed him, she would wed no other man.

For a little time they sat together, rejoicing in their new-found happiness. Then Earl Paul sprang to his feet. "Let us go and tell the good news to my mother and my brother," he said. "Harold may be disappointed at first, for I know he would rather have had you for his own, sweetheart. But his good heart will soon overcome all that, and he will rejoice with us, he too."

But Morna shook her head. She knew better Paul, what Harold's feeling would be; and she would rather put off that evil hour. "Let us keep quiet about it till after Yule," she pleaded. "It will be a joy to keep our secret to ourselves for a little space; there will be time enough then to let all the world know."

Rather reluctantly, Paul agreed; and next day he set off for the Palace at Orphir, leaving his ladylove behind him. However, all unknown to him, his step-aunt, Countess Fraukirk, had chanced to be in the hall the evening before, hidden behind a curtain, and she had overheard every word that Morna and he had spoken, and her heart was filled with black rage. For she was a hard, ambitious woman, and she had always hated the young earl. He was no blood-relation to her, and stood in the way of her own nephew to be the sole earl of Orkney.

And now that Silent Paul had stolen the heart of Lady Morna, who was loved by her own nephew, her hate and anger knew no bounds. She had hastened off to her sister's chamber as soon as the lovers had parted, and the two women had been talking together there until the chilly dawn broke in the sky.

Next day a, boat went speeding over the narrow channel of water that separates the mainland from Hoy. In it sat a woman who had covered hear head from head to foot with a black cloak, and her face was hidden behind a thick, dark veil.

The dwarf saw at once who it was who came visiting him, for it was not the first time she did. Countess Fraukirk had often sought his aid to help her in her evil deeds, and she had always paid him well in yellow gold for his services. He therefore welcomed her gladly. However, when he heard why she came, his smiling face grew grave and he shook his head.

"Lady, I have served you well in the past," he said, "but to scheme and cause the death of an earl is more than I dare to do.

"You know I live in this lonely spot in the hope of coming across the magic precious stone. You know also how people fear and hate me. If the young earl died and suspicion fell on me, I would have to fly the island, for my life would not be worth a grain of sand after that. So I cannot do it."

But the wily countess offered him much gold and lastly promised to get him a high post at the court of the king of Scotland. His ambition was stirred at that till he agreed to do what she asked.

"I will get my magic loom," he said, "and weave a piece of cloth. And I will poison the thread with a magic potion, so that whoever puts on the garment made from it, will die before he has worn it many minutes."

"You are clever in your ways," answered the countess, "and you shall be rewarded. Let me have a couple of yards of that wonderful cloth, and then I will make an attractive waistcoat for my fine young earl and give it to him as a Yuletide gift. Then I reckon that he will not see the year out."

The two parted after arranging that the piece of cloth was to be delivered at the castle of Orphir on the day before Christmas Eve.

Now, when the countess Fraukirk had been away on her alarming errand, strange things were happening at the castle at Kirkwall. For during his brother's absence, Harold had offered his heart and hand once more to Morna. Once more she refused him, and in order to make sure that the scene should not be repeated, she told him that she had promised herself to his brother. When Harold heard that, rage and fury were like to devour him. Mad with anger, he rushed away from her, flung himself upon his horse, and rode away toward the sea shore.

While he was galloping wildly along, his eyes fell on the snow-clad hills of Hoy rising up across the strip of sea that divided the one island from the other. He was at once reminded of the dwarf, for Harold too had occasionally visited him over the years.

"I have got it!" he cried. "I will go to Snorro and buy from him a love-potion that will make Lady Morna hate my precious brother and turn her mind kindly toward me."

So he made haste to hire a boat, and soon he was speeding over the tossing waters on his way to the Island of Hoy. When he arrived there, he hurried up the lonely valley to where the Dwarfie Stone stood, and he had no difficulty in finding the uncanny Snorro, who was standing at the hole that served as a door, his raven on his shoulder, gazing at the setting sun.

A curious smile crossed his face when he turned round and his eyes fell on the young noble.

"What brings you here, sir?" he asked gaily, for he scented more gold.

"I come for a love-potion," said Harold, and without more ado he told the whole story to the dwarf. "I will pay you for it," he added, "if you will give it to me quickly."

Snorro looked at him from head to foot. "The maiden must be blind," he said, "who needs a love potion to fancy such a gallant knight."

Earl Harold laughed angrily. "I have no time for jesting. There is a proverb that says, "Time and tide wait for no man." I must have the potion at once."

Snorro saw that he was in earnest, so without a word he entered his dwelling, and in a few minutes returned with a small phial in his hand. The little flask was full of a rosy liquid.

"Pour the contents of this into the lady's wine-cup," he said, "and I guarantee that before twenty-four hours have passed she will love you better than you love her now."

Then he waved his hand as if to dismiss his visitor, and disappeared into his dwelling-place.

Earl Harold hurried back to the castle, but it was not until one or two days later that he found a chance to pour the love-potion into Morna's wine-cup. But one night at supper he waved away the little pageboy and handed the potion to her himself.

She raised it to her lips, but she only pretended to drink, for she had seen the earl had been fingering the cup, and she feared some deed of treachery. When he had gone back to his seat, she managed to pour all the wine of her glass on the stone floor, and smiled to herself at the look of satisfaction that came over Harold's face as she put down the empty cup.

From that moment she felt so afraid of him that she treated him with great kindness, hoping that by doing so she would keep in his good graces until the court moved to Orphir, and her own true love could protect her.

Harold, on his side, was delighted with her graciousness, for he felt certain that the charm was beginning to work, and that his hopes would soon be fulfilled.

A week later the court removed to the Royal Palace at Orphir, where Earl Paul had everything ready to receive his guests. He was overjoyed to meet Morna again, and she was overjoyed to meet him. She felt that now she was safe from the unwelcome attentions of Earl Harold.

But to Earl Harold the sight of their joy was as gall and bitterness, and he could scarcely contain himself, although he still trusted in the love potion.

As for Countess Fraukirk and Countess Helga, they looked forward eagerly to the time when the magic cloth would arrive, the cloth they hoped to fashion a fatal gift for Earl Paul from.

At last, the day before Christmas Eve, the two wicked women were sitting in Countess Helga's chamber talking of the time when Earl Harold would rule alone in Orkney, when a tap came to the window. On looking round they saw the dwarf's grey-headed raven perched on the sill. A sealed packet was in its beak.

They opened the casement, and with a hoarse croak the bird let the packet drop on to the floor. Then it flapped its large wings and rose slowly into the air again, heading toward Hoy.

The packet contained a piece of the most beautiful material that anyone could possibly imagine, woven in all the colours of the rainbow, and sparkling with gold and jewels.

"It will make a pretty waistcoat," exclaimed Countess Fraukirk. "The silent earl will be splendidly dressed when he gets it on."

Then they set to work to cut out and sew the garment. All night they worked, and all next day. Late in the afternoon, when they were putting in the last stitches, and Earl Harold burst open the door in a hurry.

His cheeks were red with passion, and his eyes were bright, for he could not but notice that, now that Lady Morna was safe at Orphir under her true love's protection, she had grown cold and distant toward him again, and he was beginning to lose faith in the love-potion.

Angry and disappointed, he wanted to pour out his story of vexation to his mother. He stopped short, however, when he saw the wonderful waistcoat lying on the table, all gold and silver and shining colours. It astounded him.

"Who is going to get that?" he asked, hoping to hear that it was meant for him.

"It's a Christmas gift for your brother Paul," his mother answered, and she would have gone on to tell him how deadly a thing it was, had he given her time to speak. But her words made him cry, "Everything is for Paul! I am sick of his very name," he cried. "He shall not have this!" and he snatched the vest from the table.

In vain his mother and aunt threw themselves at his feet, begging him to lay it down and trying to warn him that it was poisoned. The angry man paid no heed to what they wanted said, but rushed from the room, and drawing it on, ran downstairs to show Lady Morna how fine he was. But he had hardly reached the hall than he fell to the ground in great pain. Everyone crowded round him, and the two countesses tried in vain to tear the magic vest from his body. They were terrified now by what they had done.

But he felt that it was too late, the deadly poison had done its work, and waving them aside, he turned to his brother, who in great distress had knelt down and taken him tenderly in his arms.

"I wronged you, Paul," he gasped, "for you have ever been true and kind. Forgive me, and,"he added, gathering up his strength for one last effort, and pointing to the two women who had caused all this misery, "Beware of those two women, for they seek to take your life." Then his head sank back on his brother's shoulder, and with one long sigh, he died.

When Paul learned what had happened, and understood where the waistcoat came from and that it had been devised for himself, he got very angry and wanted to revenge himself on the dwarf, his wicked stepmother and her cruel sister.

However, in the panic and confusion that followed Harold's death, the two countesses slipped out of the castle and fled to the coast and took boat in haste to Scotland, where they had great properties, and where they were much looked up to, and where no one would believe a word against them. But retribution fell on them in the end, for the Norsemen invaded the land, and their castle in Scotland was set on fire, and they perished in the flames,

When Earl Paul found that they had escaped, he hasted for the Island of Hoy to get the dwarf, at least. But when he came to the Dwarfie Stone he found it silent and deserted. There was no trace of the dwarf and raven any more. No one knew what had become of them - he lost all chance of finding the magic precious stone.

As for the silent earl and his sweetheart, they were married as soon as Earl Harold's funeral was over. And for hundreds of years afterwards, when people on the Orkney Isles wanted to express great happiness, they said, "As happy as Earl Paul and Countess Morna."

Ruins of the Earl's Palace lie in the centre of Kirkwall. Two of the most tyrannical noblemen in Scotland's history used forced labour to have it built. The building work began in 1607, and the two noblemen were later executed. The palace fell into ruin in the 1700s. The roofless ruins reveal their French Renaissance influence. [▾More]

Words

1. Orphir is from Jorfjara/Orfjara in Old Norse. The settlement lies about nine miles south west of Kirkwall. The antiquities there include the ruins of Earl Paul's Palace near St Magnus Cathedral.

~ೞ⬯ೞ~

Assipattle and the Muckle-great Mester Stoor Worm

There was a dangerous creature in the deep sea. He was known as the Mester Stoor Worm. If the earth shook and the sea swept over the fields, it was Stoor Worm yawning. He was so long that there was no place for his body until he coiled it around the earth. His breath was so venomous that when he was angry and blew out a great blast of it every living thing within reach was destroyed and all the crops were withered. With his forked tongue he would sweep hills and villages into the sea, or seize and crush a house or ship so that he could devour the people inside.

When he came close to the country where Assipattle lived, and began to yawn, the people knew that he must be fed, otherwise he would get into a rage and destroy the whole land. The news was that the king had consulted a wise man, a spaeman, about what must be done. After thinking a while, the spaeman said that the only way to keep the Stoor Worm happy was to feed him on young virgins, seven of them each week. The people were horrified by this, but the danger was so appalling that they consented.

Every Saturday morning seven terrified girls were bound hand and foot and laid on a rock beside the shore. Then the monster raised his head from the sea and seized them in the fork of his tongue and they were seen no more.

As they listened to what the king's messenger, who had brought the news, had to tell, the faces of Assipattle's father and brothers grew grey and they trembled, but Assipattle declared he was ready to fight the monster. All through the years, he bragged, he had been saving his strength just for this. His brothers were furious and pelted him with stones, but his father said sadly, "It's likely you'll fight the Stoor Worm when I make spoons from the horns of the moon." [Babylonsk astrology - ]

There were even more dreadful things for the messenger to relate. He said that the people of the country were so horrified by the deaths of the loveliest and most innocent girls that they demanded some other remedy. Once again the king consulted the spaeman, who declared at long last, with terror in his eyes, that the only way to persuade the monster to depart was to offer him the most beautiful girl in the land, the Princess Gem-de-lovely, the king's only child.

Gem-de-lovely was the king's heir and he loved her more than anyone else. But the people were so frantic with grief at the loss of their own children, that the king said with tears rolling down his cheeks, "It is surely a wonderful thing that the last of the oldest race in the land, who is descended from the great god Odin, should die for her folk."

There was only one possible way of saving the princess, so the king asked for sufficient time to send messengers to every part of his realm. They were to announce that the princess would become the wife of any man who was strong enough and brave enough to fight the monster and overcome him. The wedding gift to the champion would be the kingdom itself and the famous sword Sikkersnapper that the king had inherited from Odin.

Thirty champions had come to the palace [said the messenger; who had halted his weary horse at Assipattle's farm], but only 12 of them remained after they had seen the Stoor Worm. Even they were sick with fear. It was certain that the king had no faith in them. Old and feeble as he was, he had taken the sword Sikkersnapper out of the chest behind the high table, and had sworn that he would fight the monster himself rather than let his daughter be destroyed. His boat was pulled down from its noust [a sheltered stance above the reach of the tide] and was anchored near the shore, so as to be ready when he needed it.

Assipattle listened eagerly to all this, but no one heeded him. The messenger mounted his horse and slowly rode away. Soon the father and mother went to bed. From where he lay in the ashes beside the flickering fire, Assipattle heard them saying that they would go next day to see the fight between the king and the monster. They would ride Teetgong, who was the swiftest horse in the land.

How was it that Teetgong could be made to gallop faster than any other horse? asked the mother. It was a long time before Assipattle's father would tell her, but at last, worn out by her questions, he said, "When I want Teetgong to stand I give him a clap on the left shoulder; when I want him to run quickly I give him two claps on the right shoulder; and when I want him to gallop as fast as he can go I blow through the thrapple [windpipe] of a goose that I always keep in my pocket. He has only to hear that and he goes like the wind."

After a while there was silence and Assipattle knew that they were asleep. Very quietly he pulled the goose thrapple out of his father's pocket. He found his way to the stable, where he tried to bridle Teetgong. At first the horse kicked and reared, but when Assipattle patted him on his left shoulder he was as still as a mouse. When Assipattle got on his back and patted his right shoulder he started off with a loud neigh. The noise wakened the father, who sprang up and called his sons. All of them mounted the best horses they could find and set off in pursuit of the thief, little knowing that it was Assipattle.

The father, who rode fastest, almost overtook Teetgong, and he shouted to him,

"Hi, hi, ho! Teitgong wo."

At that, Teetgong came at once to a halt. Assipattle put the goose thrapple to his mouth and blew as hard as he could. When Teetgong heard the sound he galloped away like the wind, leaving his master and the six sons far behind. The speed was such that Assipattle could hardly breathe.

It was almost dawn when Assipattle reached the coast where the Stoor Worm was lying. There was a dale between the hills. In the dale was a small croft house. Assipattle tethered his horse and slipped into the croft. An old woman lay in bed, snoring loudly. The fire had been rested [banked], and an iron pot stood beside it. Assipattle seized the pot. In it he placed a glowing peat from the fire. The woman did not waken as he crept quietly out of the house, but the grey cat which lay at the bottom of her bed yawned and stretched itself.

Down to the shore Assipattle hurried. Far out from the land there was a dark high island, which was really the top of the Stoor Worm's head. But close to the shore a boat was rocking at anchor. A man stood up in the boat beating flukes [swinging his arms across his chest to warm himself], for it was a cold morning. Assipattle shouted to the man, "Why don't you come on shore to warm yourself?"

"I would if I could", replied the man, "but the king's kamperman [seneschal} would thrash me black and blue if I left the boat."

"You had better stay then," said Assipattle, "a whole skin is better than a sarkful of sore bones. As for myself, I am going to light a fire to cook limpets for my breakfast." And he began to dig a hollow in the ground for a fireplace.

He dug for a minute or two, then he jumped up crying, "Gold! It must be gold! It's yellower than the corn and brighter than the sun!"

When the man in the boat heard this he jumped into the water and waded ashore. He almost knocked Assipattle down, so anxious was he to see the gold. With his bare hands he scratched the earth where Assipattle had been digging.

Meanwhile, Assipattle untied the painter and sprang into the boat with the pot in his hand. He was well out to sea when the man looked up from his digging and began to roar with madram [rage]. The sun appeared like a red ball over the end of the valley as Assipattle hoisted his sail and steered towards the head of the monster. When he looked behind, he could see that the king and all his men had gathered on the shore. Some of them were dancing with fury, bawling at him to come back. He paid no heed, knowing that he must reach the Stoor Worm before the creature gave his seventh yawn.

The Stoor Worm's head was like a mountain and his eyes like round lochs, very deep and dark. When the sun shone in his eyes the monster wakened and began to yawn. He always gave seven long yawns, then his dreadful forked tongue shot out and seized any living thing that happened to be near. Assipattle steered close to the monster's mouth as he yawned a second time. With each yawn a vast tide of water was swept down the Stoor Worm's gullet. Assipattle and his boat were carried with it into the mighty cavern of a mouth, then down the throat, then along twisting passages like tremendous tunnels. Mile after mile he was whirled, with the water gurgling around him. At last the force of the current grew less, the water got shallower, and the boat grounded.

Assipattle knew that he had only a short while before the next yawn, so he ran, as he had never run in his life, around one corner after another until he came to the Stoor Worm's liver. He could see what he was about because all the inside of the monster was lit up by meeracles [phosphorescence].

He pulled out a muckle ragger [large knife] and cut a hole in the liver. Then he took the peat out of the pail and pushed it into the hole, blowing for all he was worth to make it burst into flame. He thought the fire would never take, and had almost given up hope, when there was a tremendous blaze and the liver began to burn and sputter like a Johnsmas bonfire. When he was sure that the whole liver would soon be burning, Assipattle ran back to his boat. He ran even faster than he had done before, and he reached it just in time, for the burning liver made the Stoor Worm so ill that he retched and retched. A flood of water from the stomach caught the boat and carried it up to the monster's throat, and out of his mouth, and right to the shore, where it landed high and dry.

Although Assipattle was safe and sound, no one had any thought for him, for it seemed that the end of the world had come. The king and his men, and Assipattle, and the man who had been in the boat, and the old woman, who had been wakened by the noise, and her cat, all scrambled up the hill to escape from the floods that rushed from the Stour Worm's mouth.

Bigger and bigger grew the fire. Black clouds of smoke swirled from the monster's nostrils, so that the sky was filled with darkness. In his agony he shot out his forked tongue until it laid hold of a horn of the moon. But it slipped off and fell with such a tredad [violent impact] that it made a deep rift in the earth. The tide rushed into the rift between the Dane's land and Norrowa. The place where the end of the tongue fell is the Baltic Sea. The Stoor Worm twisted and turned in torment. He flung his head up to the sky, and every time it fell the whole world shook and groaned. With each fall, teeth dropped out of the vile spewing mouth. The first lot became the Orkney Islands; the next lot became the Shetland Islands; and last of all, when the Stoor Worm was nearly dead, the Faroe Islands fell with an almighty splash into the sea. In the end the monster coiled himself tightly together into a huge mass. Old folk say that the far country of Iceland is the dead body of the Stoor Worm, with the liver still blazing beneath its burning mountains.

After a long while the sky cleared and the sun shone, and the people came to themselves again. On the top of the hill the king took Assipattle into his arms and called him his son. He dressed Assipattle in a crimson robe, and put the fair white hand of Gem-de-lovely into the hand of Assipattle. Then he girded the sword Sikkersnapper on Assipattle. And he said that as far as his kingdom stretched, north, south, east and west, everything belonged to the hero who had saved the land and people.

A week later, Assipattle and Gem-de-lovely were married in the royal palace. Never was there such a wedding, for everyone in the kingdom was happy that the Stoor Worm would never trouble them again. All over the country there was singing and dancing. King Assipattle and Queen Gem-de-lovely were full of joy, for they loved each other so much. They had ever so many fine children; and if they are not dead, they are living yet.

The Fine Field of Flax

A long, long time ago, in the island of South Ronaldsay, there lived a lass who at a very early age gave birth to a child. The child was a lass too, as bonnie and winsome as her mother.

The mother was young and innocent. When her folk asked her how it had come to pass that she had borne a child, she said she could not tell. And when they asked who the child's father was, she declared that she had never known anyone who it could possibly be. They tried to make her say more, but the lass maintained in her quiet way that there was nothing she could say.

Her folk were puzzled, yet they might have believed her; but the kirk and the kirk session would not let them be. The lass was questioned and questioned again, by the minister and the elders, but she could only say that she did not know how she had got the child. But they would not believe her. And none in the township would believe her. The people were hard and bigoted, and they could not understand her silence and her innocent look.

That poor lass and her child were ill-used. Everybody's hand seemed against them. As the years went by they had to struggle hard for their food and clothes. They could not sow their corn nor grow their lint [flax] in the in-grand [in-field] like other folk did; and they had to bear meekly the taunts of people who seemed to think it a duty to be cruel to them.

At last the child became a fine young woman. Her mother watched her with pride. She was sad that such a bonnie lass should be so badly clad. But she could do nothing to replace the rags her daughter wore.

Often the girl went for walks by herself along the seashore.

There is a place on the east shore near Halcro Head that is called the Gloup of Root. The gloup is a great chasm some way from the cliff edge, and the chasm is connected with the sea by a long cave. The ground at the seaward side of the chasm is untilled, but it has the marks of ancient fields.

One day the girl was wandering along at this place when she discovered a fine field of lint which had sprung up between the gloup and the sea. It was far finer lint than any that grew inside the townships of South Ronaldsay, and it waved beautifully in the breeze. She went to tell her mother; and they both carried away armfuls of this grand lint, which seemed to belong to nobody.

The mother prepared the lint, then she made it into a dress for her daughter. It was a lovely dress. When it was made, it was dyed a bright colour with dyes that the mother made from some moorland plant. The daughter thought she had never seen such a fine dress. When the girl wore it, the mother declared that both she and her dress just fitted each other – they were both so beautiful.

The girl was wearing the dress when the laird came by. He could not take his eyes off her; and he must have told his son about her; for the story says that the young man came, and fell in love with her, and married her. And here is the song that the old folk used to sing about it. Some of the words are lost, and so is the bonnie lilting tune, but this is what is remembered:

On the large fields, two three,
Between the chasm and the sea,
Flax grew there
For my mother and me.

When we plucked the flax
On a fair, pretty day,
We jumped with glee,
My mother and me,

The lint we spun,
We weaved and all;

Mother made me a gown
So fair and beautiful.
And the Laird, when he saw me,
Thought I would do
For a wife to his son,
Who was young and glad;
So we both fell in love
And got married one day.

And it's all because of the fields two three,
Where the flax grew so well
Between the chasm and the sea.

I bore him two sons
Who travelled afar . . .
Yet they never forgot
The fields, two, three,
Where the flax grew so fine
Between the chasm and the sea.

~ೞ⬯ೞ~

The Mermaid's Skin

There was an old and grey-haired woman sitting by the fire-side with a blanket over her knees and the left foot stretched on the pleasantly warm hearth-stone, She was busy darning a stocking she had pulled off for that purpose. At the same time she was telling of the mermaids to a group of youngsters. She seemed wholly absorbed by the beauty of the being she described. Her eyes glowed as she described her, while the youngsters, with eyes wide open and gaping mouths, sat around her, spell-bound, believing every word she said.

"How did the mermaids come to get these fishlike skins or so-called tails, grandma?" asked one of the youngsters.

"Nowadays some think the mermaid wears skins of seals beneath her waist, fastened with a belt, and that se can take off as well. However, only a few generations ago, people believed she really has a fishlike tail, and not feet covered in sealskins. The mermaids were believed to marry their own kind, as human women do too. But it so happened that the marriage of a mermaid to merman man doomed her to lose her astounding beauty she had from birth. During the first seven years of married life she lost her exquisite loveliness little by litte. During the next seven years she was about as fair as women on earth; and in the third seven years of married life she became ugly and repulsive.

However, the mermaid could escape losing her charms and beauty by having sexual intercourse with a human and marrying him. Therefore she often tried to show her beauty on the seashore and seduce men by enchanting music, to lure a man into marriage."

The old woman added, "The mermaid is the loveliest creature in the wide sea. Her face is most lovely, and her form perfect in shape and proportion. Her golden hair descends below her waist, and, furthermore, adorns her head and falls over her delicate skin in golden wreaths.

"When in the water, she had a tail. The menfolk tell the tale is part of her body while the old woman say this tail is be a skirt, and fastened at the mermaid's waist. When the mermaid is on land, the skirt shows up as a beautiful petticoat embroidered with silver and gold, but when the mermaid is in the sea her petticoat iss gathered together and shut up at its lower end so that it hides her feet and looks like what foolish men call a tail."