Jack and the Devil's Purse (3 page)

Then up to her palace came an old shepherd with a little bag on his back and a little bag under his arm and a long grey beard and a ragged coat. He stepped up the stairs. He was stopped immediately by the guards.

And they said, ‘Where are you going, old man?’

‘Well, I am just an old shepherd and I have come to help the queen.’

So everybody was interested. Anyone who could give help to the queen would be acceptable. So the old shepherd was led up to the queen’s chamber. And there sat the queen in great grief, knowing that within a week the Devil was coming to take her.

And the old shepherd stepped up and said, ‘Your Majesty,
I am believing you have been in touch with the Devil. And he has challenged you to a great duel, that you could do something that he could not do.’

She said, ‘Of course, you have heard, my friend.’

‘Well, I am just an old shepherd, my dear, my majesty, and I have come to help you.’

She said, ‘No one can help me. I’ve heard many things from all of my subjects all over the land and nothing that they’ve said can help me.’

‘But,’ he said, ‘my dear, I can help you.’

And from under his arm he took a very small sheepskin bag, and he held it up to her. He said to her: ‘In this little bag, my dear, is something that will help you.’

And the queen took it, the small sheepskin bag. She shaked it. It was full of water. She said to him:

‘And what can I do with this, old shepherd?’

He said, ‘All you can do with it, my dear, is take it and put it in two halves between two little measures. And wait till the Devil comes back to you again. Ask him to take one drink, and you take the other.’

So the queen thanked the old shepherd and she said, ‘If this works, my friend, I will repay you for everything you have done for me. You are only a shepherd, but if this works for me you will never be a shepherd again.’

‘Don’t worry,’ said the old man, ‘don’t worry about it. Just forget it. But remember what I told you.’

So the old shepherd went on his way. And the queen stood with the little bag. She then kept it within her bedroom, she pressed it to her heart and she blessed it. And soon the time passed. It was time for the Devil to return once again.

She went into the room and she took two little silver glasses, silver drinking glasses, and she halved the water of the little bag in two. She placed them on the table and there
she waited. She sat and she waited and soon it was twelve o’clock on the very day that the Devil said he was coming back.

Then there was a
flash
in the room! There he stood once again with his long, dark cloak beside her. He said, ‘My dear, I have come back.’

‘Oh yes,’ she said, ‘I know you’ve come back.’

He said, ‘Do you remember what I told you?’

‘Yes, I do.’

‘Now,’ he said, ‘you asked for a second chance and I gave it to you. Can you do something I can’t do?’

And she said, ‘Well, I think I can.’

And she picked up the glasses, the little silver drinking glasses. She passed one to him and she said: ‘You drink that one and I’ll drink the other.’

The queen lifted it up and she drank it down, and placed the glass on the table. ‘Now,’ she said, ‘Devil, you drink the other half.’

And the Devil put it to his mouth. He tasted it: ‘Sppst!’ he spat it out.

‘Queen, there’s no one can make the Devil drink Holy Water!’ he said.

And that is the end of my story.

There was once this old Traveller man and his wife; they travelled, walking mostly round Perthshire. Their two children had grown up and left them and got married. But this old man and his old wife always came back to the same wee place every winter to stay. And they camped in this wee wood by the side of the road. Now, he was a very nice easygoing man and so was the woman. The folk of the district knew them very well and respected them for what they were.

So this year the old man and woman had been away all summer wandering here and there, and the wife had sold stuff from her basket. He’d made baskets and tinware. They’d made their way back once more to their winter camping place. The old wife was hawking the houses with her basket round the doors that she knew and everybody welcomed her, glad to see her back again.

Now this man was an awful nice old man, he was really good. And his old wife really thought the world of him. At the weekend on a Saturday he would walk to the nearby village to the wee bar and have a couple pints of beer. His old wife would sit and do something at home at the camp till he came back. But they’d only been at this place for about a week when it came Saturday, and it landed on Hallowe’en night.

‘Maggie,’ he said to her, ‘I think I’ll dander awa along the length o’ the town to the pub and hae a couple o’ pints, pass the night awa.’

‘Well,’ she said, ‘John, as long as ye dinna be too late. Because I’m kind o’ feart when it gets dark at night-time to sit here myself, and especially when it’s Hallowe’en. And it bein Hallowe’en night ye ken the Devil’s loosed, supposed tae be on Hallowe’en night!’

‘You and your Devil,’ the old man says, ‘ye’re awfa superstitious. Ye ken fine there no such a thing as the Devil!’

‘Well never mind,’ she says, ‘I’ve got my beliefs and you’ve got yours. But try and get hame as soon as ye can.’

‘All right,’ says the old man, ‘I’ll no wait long. I havena much money to spend, a couple o’ shillings.’ So he says cheerio to his old wife and away he goes.

Now from where they stayed in this wee wood at the roadside he had about a mile to go. But before he came to the wee village there was a burn and a bad bend, and a bridge to cross. So the old man lighted his pipe and walked away to the village and landed at the pub.

He spent his couple o’ bob and had a few pints to himself. But he met in with two or three other folk he had known, country folk from about the district that he used to work for and they kept him later than he really thought it was. But it must have been near closing time – he clean forgot about his old wife – it was near about half past ten at night when he finally left the pub. And he wasn’t really drunk.

So he dandered home till he came to the bridge, and it was a dark, dark night. Barely a star shining. Just as he came to the bridge before the bad bend he said, ‘Everybody says this bridge is haunted, haunted by the Devil. But I dinnae believe in nae devils!’

But just when he came over the bridge and round the bend he seen this thing lying across the middle o’ the road in front o’ him.

‘God bless me,’ said the man, ‘somebody must be drunk and fell in the road.’ But he came up closer to it . . . he seen it was a coat. And the old man picked it up.

‘I’ll carry it on to the camp,’ he said. ‘Maybe somebody dropped it, maybe the laird or some o’ the gamekeepers goin hame from the pub must hae dropped it. But it’s a good coat.’ That he could see.

So he travelled on. Home he came. And he had a wee barrikit built up and his wee lamp, the cruisie was going.

The old woman says to him, ‘You’re kind o’ late, where were ye?’

‘Ach, Maggie, I met two or three folk in the pub, men I used to work for, do wee bits o’ jobs for and they kept me crackin. I’m sorry for bein late.’

‘Aye, it’s all right yinst you’re back. Were ye no feart to come ower that brig?’

‘What am I going to be feart of?’ he said.

She says, ‘Feart o’
Cog, the Devil
! This is Hallowe’en night.’

‘Ach, you and your superstition,’ he said.

She said, ‘What’s that you’ve got there?’

‘A coat I found on the brig.’

‘Oh,’ she said, ‘a coat . . . hmm. Let me look at it.’ And the old woman looked at it. ‘Well, John, I’ve seen many’s a coat, but that’s the prettiest coat I’ve ever seen in my life!’

It was black. It had a black velvet neck, velvet sleeves and velvet pockets. And black shiny buttons, four black shiny buttons.

She said, ‘It’s a beautiful coat. But I’ll tell ye, it must hae fell off some o’ the coaches goin to the town. It must be some high-up body’s coat that, because that’s nae poor man’s coat.’

‘Well, I’ve been lookin for a coat like this all my days,’ he said.

She says, ‘Ye’re no goin to keep it are ye?’

‘Oh aye, I’m goin to keep it. I’m goin to keep it all right,’ he said. ‘I’ve always wanted a coat like this. And naebody’ll ever ken I’ve got it. I’m keepin it!’

‘Well,’ she says, ‘ye might be keeping it, John, but what if somebody comes lookin for it?’

‘I’ll say I never seen nae coat on the road,’ he said. ‘I want it and I’m goin to keep it!’

‘Oh well,’ she says, ‘please yersel!’

So the old man had his tea. He sat cracking to his old wife a wee while and sat telling her about the folk he met in the pub and that. He went to bed. It was a cold night, a cold frosty night.

‘Maggie,’ he said, ‘I’m goin to fling that coat ower the top of the bed to keep us warm.’

‘Ah well,’ she says, ‘it’ll ay help, it’s a cold night.’

So after the old man and the old woman had made their bed the old man flung the coat over the top of them. But he was lying smoking for a wee while his pipe and the old man rose to go outside. He was a good wee while out, and all in a minute he heard a scream. He ran back. And there was the old woman, she’s sitting and shaking with fright!

‘God bless us, woman,’ he said, ‘what’s wrong wi ye?’

‘Dinna speak to me . . . it’s that coat!’ she said.

‘Aye, coat! There nothing wrong wi the coat!’

‘No,’ she said, ‘maybe you dinna ken there nothin wrong with it – these four buttons that’s on that coat – when you were out they turned into four eyes and they were shinin at me and winkin at me!’

‘Ah, ye must hae fell asleep while I was outside doin a wee job to myself,’ he said.

‘No, Johnnie, no, I never fell asleep. I’m tellin you, that coat’s haunted – that’s
the Devil’s coat
frae the haunted brig!’

‘Na, woman, you ought to have more sense than that.’

But the old man lay down again. He happed the coat back over him. But during the night he turned to the old woman:

‘Maggie, do you no feel it’s awfa warm?’

‘Aye,’ she said, ‘it’s awfa warm.’

‘God bless us,’ he said, ‘the sweat’s breakin off me and it’s a cold night like this!’

‘I tellt ye,’ she said, ‘it’s that
coat
.’

‘Aye, the coat! Lie down and hap yourself and pull the coat up!’

But the old man tossed and turned and he moaned all night. And he wakened up. The sweat was lashing off him and so was his old woman.

‘Maggie,’ he said, ‘it’s an awfa warm night!’

She said, ‘It’s no warm – it’s a frosty winter’s night!’

‘Well,’ he said, ‘lie back down.’

Now the old man began to get kind o’ umperant and cheeky to the old woman. Every word the woman said he began to lose his temper. Now he never was like this to the old woman before. But during the night he said, ‘Woman, would ye get off the top o’ me?’

She says, ‘I’m no near ye.’

He said, ‘You were lying on top o’ me a minute ago. I felt the weight o’ you on top o’ me!’

She says, ‘No!’ And the old woman rose up. She was wet with sweat and so was he. She said, ‘It’s that
coat
!’

‘God curse you and the coat,’ he said.

And he catcht the coat and flung it at the foot o’ the bed. And it lay down at the foot o’ the bed. The old man fell asleep and so did his old wife. And he wakened up. He was frozen, cold as could be.

‘God bless us,’ he said, ‘it’s awfa cold. I’m frozen.’

She said, ‘You were sweatin a minute ago an’ complainin about somebody lyin a-top o’ you.

And he started to the old woman, gave the woman the most cheek and umperance in the world. And he was going to hit her. ‘Only for you,’ he said, ‘I could hae my coat ower the top o’ me! You and this silly mental carry on o’ ye – you and your mad beliefs!’

‘Well, you’ll no believe me – it’s that
coat
! The best thing ye can do is get rid o’ it, or I’m no goin to bide in the camp wi ye wi it nae mair.’

‘I’m keeping the coat and you shut up!’ He’d never said that to his old wife before in his life.

But the next morning the old woman got up, kindled the fire and made a wee cup o’ tea. She offered the old man a cup o’ tea.

‘Leave it down there. I’ll get it when I’m ready,’ he said.

The woman looked at him. He never was like that with her before. But the more the week passed . . . the old woman went away and done a bit hawking, came back. But no: the fire was out, the old man was sitting at the fire. He’d hardly speak to her and snapped at every word she said to him.

‘John,’ she said, ‘what’s comin over you?’

He said, ‘There nothing coming over me, nothing at all.’

She said, ‘Ye’re demented some way.’

He said, ‘I’m no demented.’

She said, ‘Did ye look . . . were there anything in the pockets o’ that coat you found in the road?’

‘Aye, there were something in one pocket. But you’re no gettin it. I’m keepin it!’

She says, ‘What was it?’

He says, ‘A sixpence, a silver sixpence, and I’m keepin it, you’re no gettin it. Dinna ask it!’

He said, ‘Ah well,’ says the old woman, ‘I canna dae nothin with you. The best thing ye can dae is go back and put that coat where you got it.’

‘No,’ he says, ‘I’m no puttin the coat where I got it. I’m goin to keep it, suppose it is the Devil’s coat, I’m keepin it!’

‘Oh well,’ she said, ‘it’s up to yourself.’

But the days passed by and the old man got worse every day. He got so that the old woman couldn’t put up with him. Her life was greetin terrible with him for nearly a week. The old man was demented and the old woman couldn’t get a minute’s peace with him. Every night . . . the coat over him, the coat off him, the coat over him, the coat off him. And the old woman wouldna bide in the tent with the coat for God!

But one day she says to herself, ‘I canna take this nae longer. Either he goes or I go. If the coat disna go, I’ll go!’ she tellt the old man.

‘You can go if you want,’ he said, ‘but I’m keepin the coat.’

‘Oh well . . .’ she said.

The woman lifted her wee basket and away she went. She wandered away down to an old woman she knew, an old henwife who kept hens on a wee croft.