Seeing as people have really enjoyed my first two blogs about Scottish Folk Tales, here’s another one. There’s a tale about witches, one about the Devil, but the first one is a tale set at the time my books are set in. I hope you enjoy them!
A TALE FROM ANNANDALE, DUMFRIESSHIRE
This is a story which dates back to the time of my Jacobite Chronicles, which took place in the autumn of 1745. In Annandale there was a man called Adam Bell, who was a landowner. He was handsome, muscular, an excellent horseman and very proud of his skill as a swordsman, about which he used to boast to anyone who would listen.
In the autumn of 1745 he decided to go on a trip to Edinburgh, intending to stay there for a good time, leaving his housekeeper to take care of his house while he was away. A few days later, to her surprise he returned, dressed in the same clothes he’d left in, but when she asked him why he’d returned, and then if he wanted anything to eat or drink, he didn’t answer her. A few minutes later he left the house, and walked across the grounds, disappearing into the woods. When the housekeeper reported this strange behaviour, a search was made, but no one was found. Adam never returned to the house, and nothing more was ever heard of him, and eventually a relative took over his house and business.
At the same time the housekeeper was wondering why her master had returned, a farmer, who was staying on the Royal Mile in Edinburgh, near Holyrood House, was feeling quite ill, so he got up in the night, intending to get some fresh air, and went for a walk in the garden at the back of the house. All of a sudden he saw a tall man come into the garden, then walk up and down for a time, clearly impatient. After a while another, smaller man came into the garden, and the two proceeded to have an argument, which quickly turned into a fight. At first the tall man seemed to be winning, but then the moon suddenly went behind a cloud and he tripped and fell forward, upon which the shorter man ran him through immediately, killing him. After that he quickly left the garden.
The farmer decided not to say anything about what he’d seen, worrying that he might be accused of having a role in the murder, but the next day heard all about the dreadful deed, and that the dead man could not be identified, as he had no papers on him, and no one had seen him before.
Several years passed before the farmer heard about Adam’s mysterious disappearance, and convinced that he could solve the mystery, he finally revealed what he’d seen in Edinburgh. The identity of the murderer was never discovered, though.
Stories like this, of a person appearing elsewhere at the time of their death are quite common, and there is in fact such a story in my own family, which caused a pretty nasty family feud!
WITCHES
The last witch to be executed in Scotland was Janet Horne, an old woman who lived in Loth, in Sutherland. When younger she’d been a ladies’ maid, but when she grew old she became somewhat senile, and was looked after by her daughter, who had deformed hands and feet (possibly due to arthritis). As was the case with a number of senile or lonely old ladies at this time, her neighbours became suspicious of her, and she was accused of riding her daughter, who had been turned into a pony by the Devil. It was said that the daughter had not been turned back into a human properly, which was the reason why her hands and feet were so deformed.
Both women were arrested and pronounced guilty after a hasty trial. The daughter managed to escape, but when Janet was taken to the fire in Dornoch where she was to be burnt, it’s said that, it being a cold day, she warmed her hands by the fire, commenting that it was a bonny blaze, and cheerful to see so many neighbours gathered around. In Scotland witches were burned, but were usually strangled first. However this poor old lady was burned alive, having been placed in a barrel of pitch.
It seems really obvious to us now that she was clearly suffering from dementia, and was killed due to the ignorance and superstition of the local people (including the magistrate, who was later censured for his part in the proceedings), but humans always look for explanations for strange events, and didn’t have the medical or anatomical knowledge we now have. Many still thought of deformity or illness as a sign of evil, or of God’s punishment for sin.
Stories of witches riding people who’ve been turned into horses or donkeys go back at least to the 2nd century. Usually the victim accepts a gift of a magic bridle from the witch, or in some cases gifts of cheese and eggs. Witches were known to ride real horses as well as bewitched people on their nightly trips, and the sensation of pressure on the chest that people sometimes get when they’re having a nightmare was believed to be due to a witch sitting on their chest, which caused terrible dreams and left the victim tired.
Following the passing of the Witchcraft Act in 1563, during sixteenth century and until Janet Horne’s death in 1727, over 4000 people were tried for witchcraft in Scotland, about half that number being sentenced to death. Anyone could be a witch, but the most common people accused were old ladies living alone, who had incurred the dislike of the community for some reason. They would then be suspected of causing any unexplained or sudden misfortune. Under torture many would confess to all sorts of outlandish crimes, and would sometimes name others in an attempt to escape the torture. The Act was finally repealed in 1736 (as I mention in The Ladies’ Tale).
It must have been a horrific experience for the victims, who were no doubt guilty of nothing more than being eccentric, cantankerous or possibly suffering from dementia. A very sad part of our past, but one that should be remembered, if only to show how cruel it is to condemn others merely for being different.
A DEAL WITH THE DEVIL
This story comes from Changue Forest, in Ayrshire. In the eighteenth century there used to be a fair held there every year, which drew country people from all over the country. In those days there were not many rural entertainments, and people lived more isolated lives, so an opportunity for a mass gathering was always welcomed. At the fair would be food and drink, entertainers, including singers and fortune-tellers, traders selling all manner of things, and there would also be music, and at the end of the evening, organised fights.
The Laird of Changue was renowned for his courage and strength, and his performance in the fights at the fairs was remembered for years afterwards, because he was so formidable. He was also a brewer, and a smuggler of whisky, and hid his still in the hills where no one could find it.
People said that at some point he sold his soul to the Devil, and after that he always had good luck. He was never apprehended by the excisemen, all his smuggling ventures went well, and he became very rich and prosperous. In time the laird all but forgot about his bond with the Devil, and was just enjoying his wonderful life.
However, the Devil never forgets, and so it was that one night he came upon the laird in a lonely place and told him that it was time for him to pay his debt. The laird might have forgotten his pact, but he had not forgotten how to fight, so he drew his sword and challenged the Devil to a duel, first of all drawing a circle round the spot where they stood with his sword. The Devil did everything he could to drive the laird out of the circle, because he knew that it was a protective circle, and if he could throw the laird out of it, he could claim the soul. But if the laird threw the Devil out of the circle, he would have to return to Hell without the soul.
The two of them fought for a long time, both of them determined to win, but in spite of all his tricks, the laird could not be pushed out of the circle. In the end the Devil lost his temper, and spreading his enormous wings and breathing fire he flew at the laird, sure he would now win. But at that moment the laird brought his sword down in a mighty blow, severing one of the Devil’s wings at the joint where it met the shoulder. Then he hit the Devil so hard in the mouth that he was knocked right out of the circle. At this, realising that he had met his match, the Devil gave in and returned to Hell, leaving the laird still in possession of his soul.
My next folk tales blog will include a tale from a very haunted place – Greyfriars Kirkyard in Edinburgh!