The Coming of the Unicorn (8 page)

Mary and the wee black bull, they’re going and going and going. They’re running fast, when they came to a lake. There was no more land, only a lake. And the bull said to Mary, “Hold on,
Mary, hold on. Don’t be afraid. Hold on to my neck!” And Mary held on to his neck.

And the bull – into the water – he swam and he swam and he swam. And Mary looked back. She saw this evil ogre coming. He’s coming paddling as fast as he could be. He’s fw-wooph,
fwi-i-iphf
sucking the water as he’s coming. As fast as he sucks, the faster they go. The more he sucks the closer they’re getting to him.

And the bull said, “Mary, throw in the salt, throw in the salt!”

And Mary took the bag o’ salt. She couped it in the water. And lo and behold, the minute she put the salt in the water, there came an iceberg of salt. A mountain, a mountain o’ salt.

And the ogre came and he’s whoooo-opf sucking, and he’s spitting and he’s whooochk sucking and he’s spitting all the salt out. Because he couldn’t take the salt! And he ran, and he ran, he’s sucking the salt and he’s spitting the salt. By the time he spits the salt, Mary and the bull are getting farther and farther away. And he’s spitting the salt and he’s sucking the salt – trying to get after them.

Then lo and behold they came to the end of the water. Mary and the black bull came to the land once more. And when they came to the land it was a long narrow valley, cliffs and high sides, as high as the cliffs could be.

But, after he spat out the water the ogre still made his way. The evil ogre made his way as fast as he could after them. After he spat all the salt from his mouth he managed to scramble out of the lake. And he’s crawled on his hands and knees.

He spat the last mouthful out, said, “I’ll get them before the day is out!” And he came through the valley.

The bull says to Mary, “Hang on, Mary, hang on. It’s not much further now!” They rode through this narrow cliff, high precipice on each side, narrow cliff for as far as the eye could see. And then the ogre’s coming as fast as he could, hurrying as fast as he could.

He said, “I’ll get them before the night is out!”

They reached the middle of the valley, this high-cliff valley, and Mary said to the bull, “We’re not going to make it. The ogre’s going to get us!”

“Don’t worry, Mary,” said the bull. He turned round and he said, “Don’t worry, Mary. Look in my ear, my other ear, and see what you see!”

And Mary looked in his ear. She picked out a pea, a wee green pea.

He says, “Throw it behind you, throw it behind you, Mary!” And Mary took the wee green pea. She threw it behind – in the passage that they went through – and there, when the pea hit the land there was a magnificent explosion. The whole valley seemed to explode in fire and flame. The rocks came tumbling down behind them. And the bull stopped.

And he said, “Now, Mary, this is it. You don’t need to worry any more. This is it!”

“Tell me,” said Mary, “tell me, little bull, what’s going on?”

“Mary,” he said, “don’t worry. We must turn and go back.”

“Go back?” she said. “No way am I going to go back!”

“We’ll go back now, Mary,” he said. “Get off my back and lead me back!”

Mary got off his back. And when she led him back, there was the ogre buried to the neck in boulders and rocks. Only his head showing, his ugly head. And Mary and the bull walked up. The bull stopped beside the ogre.

He said, “Look, Ogre, this is the final end for you. Ye know what ye’ve done to me!”

And the ogre said, “Please, please, set me free, set me free!”

And the bull said, “You set me free first –
before
I set you free – you set me free!”

And the ogre said, “All right, I’ll set you free if you set
me
free.”

“No!” said the bull. “I’ll not – till you set me free –
you set me
free first,
” said the bull.

And the ogre spoke some words from his mouth.

Lo and behold, after the ogre spoke these words, there was a great change… The bull was gone for evermore. And there stood the most young, handsome man you ever saw in your life! He stood there before Mary. Mary was upset! She didn’t know what to say. The most handsome young man in the world you ever saw stood there dressed in green and a sword by his side.

“Now,” said the ogre, “I’ve set you free – set me free!”

“I’ll set you free,” said the young man, and he took his sword. He whipped the head off the ogre! The ogre’s head fell over and rolled down in among the rocks.

Mary hid her eyes. She says, “What’s happened?”

And the young man put his arms round Mary. He says, “Look, Mary, little Mary Rushiecoats, it’s a story I have to tell you: I was the apprentice to that ogre and he had magical powers. You see, he reared me up and taught me all these wonderful things. But all these things were evil – I didn’t want any more. And I tried to escape. He turned me into a calf and sent me to the market to get slaughtered, so that I could never indulge in his powers and tell anyone. But you, Mary, have saved me from disaster.”

He put his arms round Mary and he said, “Mary, the ogre’s castle is mine because it was mine before. It’ll be mine again – and you must come with me and be my wife for evermore!”

“But,” she says, “what about poor Grandmother?”

“Don’t worry about Grandmother, Mary,” he said. “Well find her, and we’ll bring her here with us. She’ll live here happy ever after.” And so they did.

And that is the end o’ my story.

Now there are many wonderful things you can learn about the fairies, and things connected with fairy stories. According to the Travelling folk’s idea, all the different beings have their own places: witches, for instance, are connected to old houses in forests; kelpies are in waterfalls; the Broonie in old mills and old buildings, and fairies have their fairy hills. And the Travellers say in their cracks and tales and stories that the fairies are shut up under the hills all winter, for nine months of the year.

When it comes to the first of May, the King of the Fairies lets them loose, sets them free for three months to do as they please. And they do plenty, you believe me! Nobody hardly ever sees any fairies, but the proof is there. They work among flowers and work among plants, helping Mother Nature. And at the end of July the fairies are gone. But they are so excited when they are set free at the beginning of summer. They have their party, their ceilidh, and lucky is the person who is in this very place on the first of May!

The old tramp was weary and tired, for he had walked all morning along the dusty highway, which in these days was just a track across the country. He had travelled for many days and come across very few places where he could find any food. All he’d had for the last two days was a rabbit he’d found by the roadside, roasted over a fire.

He said to himself, “If I don’t find some habitation, a farm or a croft or something along the highway before nightfall, I’m sure
I’m going to be very hungry.” Because these old tramps begged whatever they could, whatever they needed to eat. It was only by the kindliness of the local people along the way that these tramps managed to survive. And he’d travelled for so many miles his feet were sore… the day was hot and the sun was shining. It was a beautiful summer day. Even suppose he was so hungry, tiredness began to overcome the hunger.

And then he came down by this little hill. Beside the roadside he looked across the moor and there was the most beautiful little hill he’d ever seen, covered in daisies and flowers. He said to himself, “Wouldn’t that be a nice place to have a rest if I could afford to rest!” The hunger pains in his stomach were bothering him, but the soreness of his feet overcame them.

He walked over to the little hill and he sat down. He stretched himself out to rest and thought, in such a lovely place, if a person wasn’t so hungry…

He’d rested for a long while, three-quarters of an hour or so, when all in a moment he heard a little voice saying, “Old man, you’ll have to be gone from this place.”

And the tramp looked around saying to himself, “Am I hearing right? Is there someone talking?” He looked all around – he could see nothing because the grass was high and the flowers were beautiful.

Then the voice spoke again, “Old man, you’ll have to leave here!”

And the tramp looked again… Sure enough, there stood aside him a little man – not very big, maybe, say, twelve inches high with a long white beard and a peaked cap and peaked shoes. The tramp was amazed because he had never seen anybody… he’d heard of people so small as that many, many years before, but he’d never experienced meeting one. He couldn’t hardly speak for a moment or two, he was so amazed.

Then he found his voice. “Little man,” he said, “I am tired!”

And the little man said, “Old man, look, you must move from
this place immediately!”

And the old tramp man said, “But who are you, little man? I have never seen anyone like you before.”

The little man said, “Never mind who I am,” and he came closer to the old tramp man.

When he came a little closer the old tramp man had to bend over and look down. The old tramp had pulled up his knees to himself and the little man hardly came as high as his knee… there he stood with his long white beard and his wee cap and curled shoes. And the tramp thought in his mind, this is queer, this is very funny. He was so tired and weary, but with the excitement of seeing this little creature the hunger in his belly was forgotten about.

And the little man said, “Old man, you’ll have to move!”

The old tramp said, “Look, I am an old tramp. I am weary. I have come a long, long way and I am hungry. I have come here to rest.” Now in these days a long time ago there were no fences along the way, no hedges; there were no roads. A person could walk off the track and sit down, rest theirself anywhere. So this is what the old tramp had done. He said to the little man, “Look, there’s no reason why – that I can’t rest here – because this is a free place. I’m enjoying myself on this little hill resting myself!”

And the little man said, “You must go!”

The tramp said, “Not tonight, I can’t go another step!”

Then the little man saw he couldn’t persuade him in any way. He said to the tramp, “What would you take to move on? Is it food you want?”

And the tramp said, “Not exactly food. My feet are sore, and food wouldn’t make my feet any better.”

The wee man looked down and saw the poor old tramp’s boots were worn right through to the soles, with his toes sticking out. And the little man said, “I see your feet really are in a sorry state.”

“Yes,” said the old tramp, “my feet are in a sorry state and they’re really sore.”

So, the little man felt sorry for the tramp. He didn’t argue or command him any more. He asked, “Old man, what would you really take to move from here?”

And the old tramp said, “Why is it so important I should move from here at this very moment?”

But the little man did not answer. “Well,” he said, “what would you really take to move from this hill?”

And the tramp said, “Well, I am hungry, the pains are bothering my stomach at this moment. And I would like to go on to the next village or the next house or farm where I could find something to eat. But my feet are so sore and my boots are so worn the pain overcomes my hunger.”

So the little man said, “If you had a nice pair of boots that made your feet comfortable, would you move on?”

The tramp said, “If I had some nice comfortable boots for my feet, I would surely be gone!”

The little man said, “Just wait a minute – I will find you some boots.”

Now the old tramp in his hunger thought he was dreaming. He thought he had fallen asleep. He looked around and the little man was gone, completely disappeared. He rubbed his eyes with his hands and thought, I must have dozed over, I must have been dreaming. And he looked around the little hill; all the flowers were blooming so beautifully. He thought to himself, I’ll just spend the night here, relax and have a sleep. Because these old tramps always slept out in the open. They had no home or no place to go.

But he hadn’t waited more than three to four minutes, when back comes the little man. And over his back he had a pair of boots. The tramp looked, saw the little man with the boots and said, “I am not dreaming, I have not been asleep!”

And lo and behold, the little man came up beside his knee. But the boots were just small things. The little man said to the tramp, “I have brought you some boots and I hope you will keep to your promise.”

But the tramp said, “Little man, I don’t know where you came from, but do you realise that these boots would never fit my feet in any way – they wouldn’t even fit my little toe!”

And the little man said, “Wait, just wait and watch!” The little man looked at the tramp’s feet, saw his old boots with holes in them and his toes sticking through. He measured the size that the old tramp’s feet really were, and he placed the boots down on the ground. He waited.

And the tramp watched. The boots got bigger and bigger and bigger – till they came about the size that the tramp really needed – and then they stopped. The tramp looked.

There before him were the most beautiful boots he had ever seen in his life. Many’s the time the tramp had seen gentlemen and lairds and people of high degree with beautiful boots which he admired, but he had never owned a pair in his life. His one ambition in life was to own a beautiful pair of boots, because these tramps walked many, many miles.

Then the tramp said, “I just can’t believe it! Are these for me?”

And the little man said, “Yes, they’re for you! Old man, they’re for you. You can have them with good heart and good will,” he said, “providing that you try them on your feet and move on from this little hill immediately!”

The tramp bent down and took off his old boots, which were worn and dusty, no laces – a piece of lace tied across the centre – and his toes sticking out at the front, holes in the soles. He put them down. Then he stretched out his feet and picked up one boot that the little man had brought. He put it on his foot and it just fit perfectly! Then he picked up the other one, put it on, and it fit perfectly.

And the tramp stood up. When he stood up, the pain of his feet were gone. He wanted to be on his way, he felt so free! His hunger pains were gone, he just wanted to walk on.

But he could not walk away. He bent down, as close as he could above the little man and said, “Little man, I am thankful for what you’ve done for me.”

And the little man said, “Do your feet feel good now?”

He said, “They feel wonderful. They feel wonderful!”

And the little man said, “Could you walk now, old man?”

He said, “Walk? I could walk for miles! I’ll be on my way and leave you in peace.”

But the little man said, “Stop!”

And the tramp said, “Why?”

“Oh, don’t go away right now,” said the little man.

The tramp was a wee bit worried because he thought the little man was going to take the boots back from him.

And the little man said, “Before you go, I want you to make me a promise!”

The tramp thought, make a promise? “I’ll make you a promise,” said the tramp. “What is your promise?”

The little man said, “Listen very carefully, because I’m going to tell you something.”

And the tramp listened.

The little man said, “Now, you have got some boots.”

The tramp said, “Yes, I have got some boots, some beautiful boots like I never had before in my life. I’ve seen people with boots but not anything like this! And I’ve admired people’s beautiful boots along the way but I never saw boots like this before in my life. And are they really mine?”

And the little man said, “Yes, they’re yours. But make me one promise! These boots will carry you on your journey for evermore, till the end of your life. They’ll never need to be cleaned, they’ll never wear, they’ll never be worn out. You’ll
never have sore feet any more – providing on one thing…

“And what is that?” said the old tramp.

“
That you never tell a soul where you got them!
Will you promise me that?”

The old tramp turned round to the little man and he said, “I make you my promise.”

And the little man held out his hand. The tramp took the little man’s hand – just a wee, wee hand in his – and he shook hands with the little man.

“Now,” said the tramp, “I’ll be on my way. Can I go?”

“Well,” said the little man, “you can go.”

And the old tramp walked on the road, never even looked back, left the little man on the little hill by himself. The tramp went on his way. He felt no pain in his feet and no hunger pains. He just wanted to walk on and on, for ever! He travelled on for miles and miles and he travelled for a year, he travelled for two years… And wherever the old tramp went every night he took off his boots, and placed them beside his head when he went to sleep. And when he woke up in the morning his beautiful boots were there beside him as clean and polished like they had never ever walked a single step! And the tramp loved these boots like he had never loved anything in his life. Although he had walked many, many miles, the tramp never felt tired.

So, one day the summer came again. He came to this river. And the sun was shining; the day was so beautiful. The old tramp thought – he wasn’t tired and his feet weren’t sore – but he thought his boots were so beautiful, he was ashamed when he put his dirty feet in them. So he thought he’d walk down to the river and wash his feet – to fit his boots! He walked down to the river, took off his beautiful boots and placed them by his side.

He was washing his old feet in the river, cleaning his toenails so’s he could put them back into his beautiful boots and feel no shame… when who should come walking up the river but
a fisherman, who was fishing the river from pool to pool, from pool to pool. He came to the pool where the old tramp was sitting. And the fisherman was amazed when he came up and saw the old tramp washing his feet.

But he stopped and said, “Hello, old man!”

The old tramp looked round: there was the fisherman with his fishing bag on his back and his fishing rod. He said, “Hello!”

“You’re washing your feet?” said the fisherman.

“Yes,” said the tramp, “I’m washing my feet. Because the day is hot.”

And then the fisherman looked. Beside the old tramp sitting was a pair of boots, the most beautiful boots that the fisherman had ever seen in his life! Then he looked at the tramp in rags, torn coat, long beard, straggly hair – and beside him sat the most beautiful boots he’d ever seen.

“Tell me,” said the fisherman, “are you a tramp?”

“Well,” said the old man, “people call me that. I have walked many, many miles – I am a tramp.”

“I suppose,” said the fisherman, “you’ve been many places?”

“Yes,” said the old man, “I’ve been many places.”

“And you’ve seen many sights?”

“Yes,” said the old tramp, “I’ve seen many sights.”

“But, tell me truthfully,” said the fisherman, “how in the world could an old tramp like you own such beautiful boots?”

And the tramp turned round and smiled. “These boots,” he said, “they be mine.”

“But,” the fisherman said, “you’ve after told me you’re a tramp!”

“Yes,” said the old man, “I’m a tramp.”

“But, how,” said the fisherman, “could a tramp own these boots, so beautiful like that? Did you steal them?”

“No,” said the tramp, “I never stole them. They’re mine!”

“Did you buy them?” said the fisherman.

“No,” he said, “I never bought them. These were given to me
as a present.”