Jack and the Devil's Purse (8 page)

‘Mother,’ he said, ‘you know I’ll do anything for you.’

She said, ‘Ye ken I’m no bad off for money. You pay me well and I can manage myself. Would ye do your poor old mother a favour? Will ye gang and see your old auntie for me? And see how she’s getting on.’

But Jack said, ‘Mother, how can I go and see somebody I’ve never met, someone I didna even ken existed till this day?’

‘Well, Jack, I didna want to tell you. I wanted to keep it secret from you because there’s many bad names about your old auntie. And I didna want you to grow up with the thought that there was any trouble in the family.’

‘Ah, but Mother, it’s my auntie, isn’t it? Your sister!’

‘Aye, Jack, it’s my sister. And she’s the same age as me, Jack. She’ll be seventy on her birthday and I’ve never seen her for forty years! And laddie, if you would gang and pay her a wee visit and tell her I’m all right, spend a wee time with her, come back and tell me how she’s getting on – it would make me awful happy.’

‘But, Mother, where does she stay?’

‘Oh, Jack, she stays a long way frae here, a long, long way frae here! Away to the end of the land. The farthest point of Ireland, Jack, that’s where she stays!’

‘Oh well, Mother,’ he said, ‘you ken it’s going to take me a long, long while and I cannae leave ye for as long as that.’

‘Laddie, I’ll be all right, Jack, when you’re on your way. I ken naething’ll happen to you. You go and see your old auntie and bring me back good news frae her. And if ever I die I’ll die happy.’

So they sat and talked that night for a wee while. And Jack promised his mother he would go and see his old auntie. And this is where my story starts.

The very next morning Jack and his mother were up early. She made him a little breakfast and she fried him a wee bit collop. She made him a wee bannock to carry him on his way.

She says, ‘Be careful, laddie, on your way! It’ll maybe tak ye months, I dinnae ken. But it’ll maybe tak ye weeks. But remember, I’ll be always thinking about you. And may the best of luck gang with ye!’

Jack bade goodbye to his mother and off he set. Oh, Jack travelled on, and on and on asking people questions along his way, doing a wee bit job for these people here, doing a wee bit job for people there. He was in nae hurry. And he travelled on and on till he came to a long weary road. There were not a house in sight. And then he came down this steep brae.

There was a wee bridge crossing. He crossed the bridge and the first thing he saw was an old woman with a big bundle of sticks on her back. Oh, in the name of God, it was the biggest bundle Jack had ever seen an old woman carrying!

And he said to himself, ‘How in the world can an old woman like that carry so many sticks on her back?’ And he put on the speed and stepped quicker. He overtook the old woman.

He said, ‘Old woman, how could you carry such a big bundle as that?’

‘Ah,’ she says, ‘laddie, I’m carrying them but I’m getting really tired.’

‘Well,’ he said, ‘let me take a wee shot frae you. I’m going on your way. Have you far to gang?’

‘Aye,’ she says, ‘laddie, a wee bit yet.’

‘Well,’ he said, ‘let me carry your sticks for you!’

And Jack being young and strong picked up the bundle and put it on his back. The old woman walked beside him and they travelled on for about a mile till they came to a wee thatched house by the roadside.

She said, ‘Laddie, this is my house.’

And Jack could see there were heaps of sticks. The old woman had been carrying sticks, must have been carrying them for years!

But he said to her, ‘What are you doing with so many sticks, old woman? You’ve nae need to carry so many as that. You’ve as much there that would keep my mother’s fire burning for years!’

She says, ‘I like to gather sticks. I love gathering sticks! And that’s the only enjoyment I get out of life.’

He tellt her his name.

She said, ‘Ye ken, Jack, sticks is a good thing. Let them be thorn sticks, jaggy sticks, hazel sticks, ash sticks, oak sticks. Any kind of sticks is good sticks!’

‘Oh well,’ said Jack, ‘I suppose so.’

‘Would you like to come in for a wee bit before you gang on your way?’ she asked.

And Jack put the big bundle of sticks down beside the rest and the old woman brought him into this wee house. She made him something to eat and he sat and cracked to her. He tellt her where he was going.

She said, ‘Laddie, you’ve a long, long way to gang, miles. It will tak ye weeks where you’re gaun.’ So she says, ‘You’ve been good to me, laddie. Do you want to stay the night or do you want to gang on?’

‘Ah,’ Jack said, ‘it’s kind of early yet. I think I’ll push on.’

So she gangs to the back of the door and pulls out a black-thorn stick. And there were more knots in thon stick than
ever you’ve seen in your life! But it was polished like new mahogany.

She says, ‘Jack, will ye tak this wi ye? Maybe you’ll get tired on your way and it’ll help you.’

But he said, ‘I’m no an old man! I dinnae need a stick.’

She says, ‘Jack, you might need this – because this is a different kind of stick from the stick you think it is. This might help you on your way. Jack, this is a magic stick!’

‘Aye,’ he said, ‘old woman! There’s nae such a thing as a magic stick.’

She said, ‘Jack, this is a magic stick! You tak this stick frae me and on your journey back you can aye give it to me back. Will you do that for me?’

‘Oh well,’ says Jack, ‘there’s nae harm in taking a stick. It’ll maybe help me along the road.’

But she says, ‘If you’re ever in trouble, you’ll no need to worry about it. If onybody ever touches you or you’re ever in trouble, just say, “
Stick, beat them
!” And then, Jack, you’ll see that the stick is worthwhile o’ keeping.’

Jack thought the old mort was kind of droll. But he took the old stick because he liked it. He’d never seen a stick like it before in his life. And he bade farewell to the old woman.

On he walked. And he travelled on and he travelled on. That night he slept under a hedge. And he had a perfectly good sleep with the stick in below his head! He had a wonderful dream.

So the next morning he set on his way and he travelled on. He was travelling down this kind of a forest when he hears all these funny noises and gibbling, gabbling, arguing coming from the back of the wood. Jack thought it was maybe people gathering for a kind of session or something. He wondered what was going on. He wanted to ask some questions from the folk where he was going.

And he came through a wee path in the wood through a clearing. In the clearing in the middle of this scrubby wood o’ hazel trees he looked. He saw this band o’ people. They were all gathered round in a circle.

Jack said, ‘I wonder what’s going on here.’

When he came in closer he could see there were three men on horseback, young men. Two o’ them was dressed like soldiers. But the other one was dressed in these bonnie fancy clothes. They were surrounded by what Jack thought were robbers. Oh, some had patches on their eyes, ragged clothes, bare feet, trousers cut above their knees. They were a sorry-looking crowd. And some had crommacks in their hands. Some had kinds o’ spears and some had knives. They were surrounding these three young men.

Jack said, ‘They’re robbin’ some gentlemen!’

And he walked closer. They were pointing their sticks and spears at these three men on horseback.

Jack said, ‘There’s too many for me to start an argument. I wonder if that old woman is tellin the truth.’ And he came in as close as he could. He held up this stick:

He said, ‘
Go on
,
stick, beat them
!’

Before you could say another word the stick flew from his hand. And that stick went straight for these robbers! Left and right went the stick cracking heads, breaking arms, cracking legs. Within minutes there wasn’t a standing man in the whole place. And there stood the three horse-backed men by themselves. These robbers made off for their lives – those who were able to run! And them that weren’t able to run lay on the ground moaning in pain. Jack went over and he picked up his stick. He walked up.

He said, ‘Are you in trouble, sir?’

And this young gentleman on a horse said, ‘Young man, where did you come from? I never saw anything so clever in all my life! You-you-you beat off fifty robbers!’

‘Well,’ Jack said, ‘with the help of this! My stick.’

He said, ‘I watched that stick. That’s a clever stick! Where did you get it?’

Jack said, ‘I got it from an old woman. And I promised to return it.’

‘Well,’ said the young man, ‘do you know who I am?’

Jack said, ‘No. Are you a gentleman or a laird o’ some kind?’

He said, ‘No, I’m the king!’

‘The king?’ says Jack. And he bowed before him and said, ‘I’m sorry, my lord!’

‘Don’t bow before me, young man,’ he said. ‘What’s your name?’

‘My name is Jack and I’m going to the end of the land to see my old auntie.’

He said, ‘Jack, before you go anywhere, clever young man, you must come with me and meet my family and meet my wife!

‘Soldier,’ he said, ‘take Jack up with you on the back of your horse.’

So Jack was put on the back of the soldier’s horse. And they rode on. After a few miles they came to this beautiful palace. The soldiers went one way with the horses and Jack and the king went right up the front steps into the most beautiful palace Jack had ever been in his life! The king clapped his hands. He called for footmen and maids to come and set a beautiful meal for Jack. And he and the king sat and they talked for a long, long time.

‘Young man,’ he said, ‘Jack, I would like you to meet my queen. But to tell you the truth, she’s not very well.’

‘Oh,’ says Jack, ‘what’s wrong with her?’

‘Well,’ he said, ‘she has a problem. You see, my queen cannot sleep. She has never slept for many, many months.’

‘Oh,’ Jack said, ‘that’s terrible. She cannae sleep?’

He said, ‘She’s ill from the want of sleep, Jack. And the funny thing is, it all began a while ago when a young man tried to steal my fruit.’

Jack said, ‘A young man tried to steal your fruit?’

‘Oh, I forgot to tell you. Jack, you see my father, the king before me, had a wonderful fruit tree here. This is the Tree of Life, the Fruit of Life. And whoever feeds from that Tree of Life never takes ill. But we caught a young man stealing fruit from our tree. And naturally I had to send him to prison. From that day on my tree has never produced another fruit. And my wife has never had a wink of sleep.’

‘Well,’ Jack said, ‘there must be something behind this. But I’ll tell ye, I cannae stay to help you. I’m going offto see an old aunt o’ mine. And my mother tells me she’s very clever. I’ll ask her when I go there and maybe she’ll be able to help me.’

The king said, ‘If ye can find ony help for me at all, Jack, I’ll reward you handsomely when you come back. If you can find anything to help my tree and my queen I’ll be much obliged to you, Jack!’

So the next morning the king ordered Jack a horse. He tellt Jack to go to the kitchens, get anything he wanted to carry with him. So Jack went to the kitchens and got some food. The king shook hands with him and told him when he returned he must come and see him – see if he could find an answer to his problem.

So, Jack with his stick under his arm and the bundle of food from the kitchen made on his way. He travelled on and on and on. To make a long story short, after a long, long time Jack came to where there was no more land; it was the raging sea.

And there at the end of the land at the seaside he came to a little cottage, a thatched little house. Hens running around, ducks swimming in the water, cocks sitting on the roof crowin.

Jack said, ‘At last! This must be her.’

So he came in to the clearing and here he meets an old woman, the identical spit of his mother. Jack said, ‘It’s my mother!’

She said, ‘Young man, I’m no your mother. Who are you?’

He said, ‘I’m Jack. And I’ve come to see you. You’re my auntie.’

‘I’m your auntie?’ she said.

‘Aye,’ he said, ‘you’re my mother’s sister.’

‘Oh laddie, laddie,’ she says, ‘you’ve come at last! I knew some day you would come.’

And she brought Jack into her little house. She fed him as best she could.

‘Now,’ she said, ‘tell me about your mother.’

And Jack sat and he cracked to her and he tellt her about his mother. He tellt her about the journey he’d come, and he tellt her about his beatin’ stick. He tellt her everything he could think of, everything since he was a wean. And she sat and listened to every word.

He said to her, ‘Auntie, on my road here I had a funny experience. And only with the help o’ my stick . . .’ and he tellt her about the old woman giving him the stick.

The old woman looked at the stick. She says:

‘Jack, that is a good stick. That is a real stick! You dinna ken the value o’ that stick. But I ken.’

So he says, ‘Auntie, will you tell me something? On my way here I ran into the king surrounded by a band of robbers,’ and he tellt her the story. He tellt her about the
king’s wife who couldnae sleep. And he tellt her about the fruit tree.

‘Aha, Jack laddie,’ she said. ‘Laddie, laddie, I ken you’ll be wanting to go awa, but will you no stay with me for another two days? At least till I have a wee crack to you? I’m lonely here, I’m a lonely old woman here by myself. Can you no stay for another two days?’

‘Well,’ Jack said, ‘I’ll stay for another two days if you promise you’ll answer me two questions!’

‘Jack,’ she said, ‘if you stay with me two days I’ll tell you onything!’

‘Tell me then, why, Auntie, the king’s wife the queen cannae sleep.’

‘Aha, Jack, the king would gie the world to ken that!’

‘And tell me, Auntie, why the king’s fruit tree is no growing any more fruit.’

‘Oho, Jack laddie, the king would give a large reward to ken that.’

‘Well,’ he said, ‘what’s the problem, Auntie?’

She said, ‘It’s the king’s fault, Jack! If it wasnae his ain fault, it wouldnae hae happened. You see, he sent a young laddie to the dungeons for stealing the fruit of his tree. And that laddie’s mother’s a wee bit like myself, a wee bit o’ the black art. And her daughter is working as a maid in the castle in the palace. Every night she combs the queen’s hair and she puts knots in the queen’s hair with the power of her old mother! And that’s why the king’s queen cannae sleep. She’s also put her sword under the roots o’ the king’s tree. And that’s why it’s no growing ony fruit, Jack! That’s the king’s problem.’