The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Gold Of Fairnilee, by Andrew Lang This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: The Gold Of Fairnilee Author: Andrew Lang Release Date: June 25, 2007 [EBook #21934] Last Updated: December 17, 2016 Language: English Character set encoding: UTF-8 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLD OF FAIRNILEE *** Produced by David Widger
* “We drove our own cattle home, and perhaps some others
that were not ours. And we took all the goods out of the
hall at Hardriding, and a pretty load of tapestries, and
rugs, and other things we have to show for our ride.”
Then he called to some of his men, who came into the hall, and cast down
great piles of all sorts of spoil and booty, silver plate, and silken
hangings, and a heap of rugs, and carpets, and plaids, such as Randal had
never seen before, for the English were much richer than the Scotch.
Randal threw himself on the pile of rugs and began to roll on it.
“Oh, mother,” he cried suddenly, jumping up and looking with wide-open
eyes, “there ‘s something living in the heap! Perhaps it’s a doggie, or a
rabbit, or a kitten.”
* Asking.
When Simon Grieve said that the Red Cock was crowing over his enemies’
home, he meant that he had set it on fire after the people who lived in it
had run away.
Lady Ker grew pale when she heard what he said. She hated the English, to
be sure, but she was a woman with a kind heart. She thought of the
dreadful danger that the little English girl had escaped, and she went
upstairs and helped the nurse to make the child happy.
‘Atween the wet ground and the dry
The gold of Fairnilee doth lie.’
And there’s the other auld rhyme—
‘Between the Camp o’ Rink
And Tweed water clear,
Lie nine kings’ ransoms
For nine hundred year!’”
Randal and Jean were very glad to hear so much gold was near them as would
pay nine kings’ ransoms. They took their small spades and dug little holes
in the Camp of Rink, which is a great old circle of stonework, surrounded
by a deep ditch, on the top of a hill above the house. But Jean was not a
very good digger, and even Randal grew tired. They thought they would wait
till they grew bigger, and then find the gold.
‘If ye call me imp or elf, .
I warn you look well to yourself;
If ye call me fairy,
Ye ‘ll find me quite contrary;
If good neighbour you call me,
Then good neighbour I will be;
But if you call me kindly sprite,
I ‘ll be your friend both day and night.’
So you must always call them ‘good neighbours’ or ‘good folk,’ when you
speak of them.”
“Did you ever see a fairy, nurse?” asked Randal.
“Not myself, but my mother knew a woman—they called her Tibby
Dickson, and her husband was a shepherd, and she had a bairn, as bonny a
bairn as ever you saw. And one day she went to the well to draw water, and
as she was coming back she heard a loud scream in her house. Then her
heart leaped, and fast she ran and flew to the cradle; and there she saw
an awful sight—not her own bairn, but a withered imp, with hands
like a mole’s, and a face like a frog’s, and a mouth from ear to ear, and
two great staring eyes.”
“What was it?” asked Jeanie, in a trembling voice.
“A fairy’s bairn that had not thriven,” said nurse; “and when their bairns
do not thrive, they just steal honest folks’ children and carry them away
to their own country.”
“And where’s that?” said Randal.
“It’s under the ground,” said nurse, “and there they have gold and silver
and diamonds; and there’s the Queen of them all, that’s as beautiful as
the day. She has yellow hair-down to her feet, and she has blue eyes, like
the sky on a fine day, and her voice like all the mavises singing in the
spring. And she is aye dressed in green, and all her court in green; and
she rides a white horse with golden bells on the bridle.”
“I would like to go there and see her,” said Randal.
“Oh, never say that, my bairn; you never know who may hear you! And if you
go there, how will you come back again? and what will your mother do? and
Jean here, and me that’s carried you many a time in weary arms when you
were a babe?”
“Can’t people come back again?” asked Randal.
“Some say ‘Yes,’ and some say ‘No.’ There was Tarn Hislop, that vanished
away the day before all the lads and your own father went forth to that
weary war at Flodden, and the English, for once, by guile, won the day.
Well, Tam Hislop, when the news came that all must arm and mount and ride,
he could nowhere be found. It was as if the wind had carried him away.
High and low they sought him, but there was his clothes and his jack,* and
his sword and his spear, but no Tam Hislop. Well, no man heard more of him
for seven whole years, not till last year, and then he came back: sore
tired he looked, ay, and older than when he was lost. And I met him by the
well, and I was frightened; and ‘Tam,’ I said, ‘where have ye been this
weary time?’ ‘I have been with them that I will not speak the name-of,’
says he. ‘Ye mean the good folk,’ said I. ‘Ye have said it,’ says he. Then
I went up to the house, with my heart in my mouth, and I met Simon Grieve.
‘Simon,’ I says, ‘here’s Tam Hislop come home from the good folk.’ ‘I ‘ll
soon send him back to them,’ says he. And he takes a great rung** and lays
it about Tarn’s shoulders, calling him coward loon, that ran away from the
fighting. And since then Tam has never been seen about the place. But the
Laird’s man, of Gala, knows them that say he was in Perth the last seven
years, and not in Fairyland at all. But it was Fairyland he told me, and
he would not lie to his own mother’s half-brother’s cousin.”
* Jack, a kind of breastplate.
** Rung, a staff.
Randal did not care much for the story of Tam Hislop. A fellow who would
let old Simon Grieve beat him could not be worthy of the Fairy Queen.
Randal was about thirteen now, a tall boy, with dark eyes, black hair, a
brown face with the red on his cheeks. He had grown up in a country where
everything was magical and haunted; where fairy knights rode on the leas
after dark, and challenged men to battle. Every castle had its tale of
Redcap, the sly spirit, or of the woman of the hairy hand. Every old mound
was thought to cover hidden gold. And all was so lonely; the green hills
rolling between river and river, with no men on them, nothing but sheep,
and grouse, and plover. No wonder that Randal lived in a kind of dream. He
would lie and watch the long grass till it locked like a forest, and he
thought he could see elves dancing between the green grass stems, that
were like fairy trees. He kept wishing that he, too, might meet the Fairy
Queen, and be taken into that other world where everything was beautiful.
* Nowt, cattle.
This was the cause of the fire Jean saw, and of the noise of the cattle.
On midsummer’s night the country people used to light these fires, and
drive the cattle through them. It was an old, old custom come down from
heathen times.
Now the other men from Fairnilee had gathered round Jean. Lady Ker had
sent them out to look for Randal and her on the hills. They had heard from
the good wife at Peel that the children had gone up the burn, and Yarrow
had tracked them till Jean was found.
* Tint, lost.
“Hush, nurse,” said Lady Ker, “do not frighten Jean.”
She spoke to the men, who had no doubt that Randal would soon be found and
brought home.
So Jean was put to bed, where she forgot all her troubles; and Lady Ker
waited, waited, all night, till the grey light began to come in, about two
in the morning.
Lady Ker kept very still and quiet, telling her beads, and praying. But
the old nurse would never be still, but was always wandering out, down to
the river’s edge, listening for the shouts of the shepherds coming home.
Then she would come back again, and moan and wring her hands, crying for
“her bairn.”
About six o’clock, when it was broad daylight and all the birds were
singing, the men returned from the hill.
But Randal did not come with them.
Then the old nurse set up a great cry, as the country people do over the
bed of someone who has just died.
Lady Ker sent her away, and called Simon Grieve to her own room.
“You have not found the boy yet?” she said, very stately and pale. “He
must have wandered over into Yarrow; perhaps he has gone as far as Newark,
and passed the night at the castle, or with the shepherd at Foulshiels.”
“No, my Lady,” said Simon Grieve, “some o’ the men went over to Newark,
and some to Foulshiels, and other some down to Sir John Murray’s at
Philiphaugh; but there’s never a word o’ Randal in a’ the country-side.”
“Did you find no trace of him?” said Lady Ker, sitting down suddenly in
the great armchair.
“We went first through the wood, my Lady, by the path to the Wishing Well.
And he had been there, for the whip he carried in his hand was lying on
the grass. And we found this.”
He put his hand in his pouch, and brought out a little silver crucifix,
that Randal used always to wear round his neck on a chain.
“This was lying on the grass beside the Wishing Well, my Lady—”
Then he stopped, for Lady Ker had swooned away. She was worn out with
watching and with anxiety about Randal.
Simon went and called the maids, and they brought water and wine, and soon
Lady Ker came back to herself, with the little silver crucifix in her
hand.
The old nurse was crying, and making a great noise.
“The good folk have taken ma bairn,” she said, “this nicht o’ a’ the
nichts in the year, when the fairy folk—preserve us frae them!—-have
power. But they could nae take the blessed rood o’ grace; it was beyond
their strength. If gipsies, or robber folk frae the Debatable Land, had
carried away the bairn, they would hae taken him, cross and a’. But the
guid folk have gotten him, and Randal Ker will never, never mair come hame
to bonny Fairnilee.”
What the old nurse said was what everybody thought. Even Simon Grieve
shook his head, and did not like it.
But Lady Ker did not give up hope. She sent horsemen through all the
country-side: up Tweed to the Crook, and to Talla; up Yarrow, past
Catslack Tower, and on to the Loch of Saint Mary; up Ettrick to
Thirlestane and Buccleugh, and over to Gala, and to Branxholme in
Teviotdale; and even to Hermitage Castle, far away by Liddel water.
They rode far and rode fast, and at every cottage and every tower they
asked “had anyone seen a boy in green?” But nobody had seen Randal through
all the country-side. Only a shepherd lad, on Foulshiels hill, had heard
bells ringing in the night, and a sound of laughter go past him, like a
breeze of wind over the heather.
Days went by, and all the country, was out to look for Randal. Down in
Yetholme they sought him, among the gipsies; and across the Eden in merry
Carlisle; and through the Land Debatable, where the robber Armstrongs and
Grahames lived; and far down Tweed, past Melrose, and up Jed water, far
into the Cheviot hills.
But there never came any word of Randal. He had vanished as if the earth
had opened and swallowed him. Father Francis came from Melrose Abbey, and
prayed with Lady Ker, and gave her all the comfort he could. He shook his
head when he heard of the Wishing Well, but he said that no spirit of
earth or air could have power for ever over a Christian soul. But, even
when he spoke, he remembered that, once in seven years, the fairy folk
have to pay a dreadful tax, one of themselves, to the King of a terrible
country of Darkness; and what if they had stolen Randal, to pay the tax
with him!
This was what troubled good Father Francis, though, like a wise man, he
said nothing about it, and even put the thought away out of his own mind.
But you may be sure that the old nurse had thought of this tax on the
fairies too, and that she did not hold her peace about it, but
spoke to everyone that would listen to her, and would have spoken to the
mistress if she had been allowed. But when she tried to begin, Lady Ker
told her that she had put her own trust in Heaven, and in the Saints. And
she gave the nurse such a look when she said that, “if ever Jean heard of
this, she would send nurse away from Fairnilee, out of the country,” that
the old woman was afraid, and was quiet.
As for poor Jean, she was perhaps the most unhappy of them all. She
thought to herself, if she had refused to go with Randal to the Wishing
Well, and had run in and told Lady Ker, then Randal would never have
started to find the Wishing Well. And she put herself in great danger, as
she fancied, to find him. She wandered alone on the hills, seeking all the
places that were believed to be haunted by fairies.
At every Fairy Knowe, as the country people called the little round green
knolls in the midst of the heather, Jean would stoop her ear to the
ground, trying to hear the voices of the fairies within. For it was
believed that you might hear the sound of their speech, and the trampling
of their horses, and the shouts of the fairy children. But no sound came,
except the song of the burn flowing by, and the hum of gnats in the air,
and the gock, gock, the cry of the grouse, when you frighten him in
the heather.
Then Jeanie would try another way of meeting the fairies, and finding
Randal. She would walk nine times round a Fairy Knowe, beginning from the
left side, because then it was fancied that the hill-side would open, like
a door, and show a path into Fairyland. But the hill-side never opened,
and she never saw a single fairy; not even old Whuppity Stoorie sit with
her spinning-wheel in a green glen, spinning grass into gold, and singing
her fairy song:—
“I once was young and fair,
My eyes were bright and blue,
As if the sun shone through,
And golden was my hair.
“Down to my feet it rolled
Ruddy and ripe like corn,
Upon an autumn morn,
In heavy waves of gold.
“Now am I grey and old,
And so I sit and spin,
With trembling hand and thin,
This metal bright and cold.
“I would give all the gain,
These heaps of wealth untold
Of hard and glittering gold,
Could I be young again!”
The Fairy Queen, that had seemed so happy and beautiful in her bright
dress, was a weary, pale woman in black, with a melancholy face and
melancholy eyes. She looked as if she had been there for thousands of
years, always longing for the sunlight and the earth, and the wind and
rain. There were sleepy poppies twisted in her hair, instead of a golden
crown. And the knights and ladies were changed. They looked but half
alive; and some, in place of their gay green robes, were dressed in rusty
mail, pierced with spears and stained with blood. And some were in burial
robes of white, and some in dresses torn or dripping with water, or marked
with the burning of fire. All were dressed strangely in some ancient
fashion; their weapons were old-fashioned, too, unlike any that Randal had
ever seen on earth. And their festivals were not of dainty meats, but of
cold, tasteless flesh, and of beans, and pulse, and such things as the old
heathens, before the coming of the Gospel, used to offer to the dead. It
was dreadful to see them at such feasts, and dancing, and riding, and
pretending to be merry with hollow faces and unhappy eyes.
And Randal wearied of Fairyland, which now that he saw it clearly looked
like a great unending stretch of sand and barren grassy country, beside a
grey sea where there was no tide. All the woods were of black cypress
trees and poplar, and a wind from the sea drove a sea-mist through them,
white and cold, and it blew through the open courts of the fairy castle.
So Randal longed more and more for the old earth he had left, and the
changes of summer and autumn? and the streams of Tweed, and the hills, and
his friends. Then the voice of Jeanie had come down to him, sounding from
far away. And he was sent up by the Fairy Queen in a fairy form, as a
hideous dwarf, to frighten her away from the white roses in the enchanted
forest.
But her goodness and her courage had saved him, for he was a christened
knight, and not a man of the fairy world. And he had taken his own form
again beneath her hand, when she signed him with the Cross, and here he
was, safe and happy, at home at Fairnilee.
‘Atween the wet ground and the dry
The Gold o’ Fairnilee doth lie.’
There it is, with the sun never glinting on it; there it may bide till the
Judgment-day, and no man the better for it.
‘Between the Camp o’ Rink
And Tweed water clear,
Lie nine kings’ ransoms
For nine hundred year.’”
“I doubt it’s fairy gold, nurse,” said Randal, “and would all turn black
when it saw the sun. It would just be like this bottle, the only thing I
brought with me out of Fairyland.”
Then Randal put his hand in his velvet pouch, and brought out a curious
small bottle.* It was shaped like this,
and was made of something that none of them had ever seen before. It was
black, and you could see the light through it, and there were green and
yellow spots and streaks on it.
* In bottles like this, the old Romans used to keep their
tears for their dead friends.
“That ugly bottle looked like gold and diamonds when I found it in
Fairyland,” said Randal, “and the water in it smelled as sweet as roses.
But when I touched my eyes with it, a drop that ran into my mouth was as
salt as the sea, and immediately everything changed: the gold bottle
became this glass thing, and the fairies became like folk dead, and the
sky grew grey, and all turned waste and ugly. That’s the way with fairy
gold, nurse; and if you found it, even, it would all be dry leaves and
black bits of coal before the sun set.”
“Maybe so, and maybe no,” said the old nurse. “The Gold o’ Fairnilee may
no be fairy gold, but just wealth o’ this world that folk buried here lang
syne. But noo, Randal, ma bairn, I maun gang out and see ma sister’s son’s
dochter, that’s lying sair sick o’ the kincough* at Rink, and take her
some of the physic that I gae you and Jean when you were bairns.”
* Kincough, whooping cough.
So the old nurse went out, and Randal and Jean began to be sorry for the
child she was going to visit. For they remembered the taste of the physic
that the old nurse made by boiling the bark of elder-tree branches; and I
remember it too, for it was the very nastiest thing that ever was tasted,
and did nobody any good after all.
Then Randal and Jean walked out, strolling along without much noticing
where they went, and talking about the pleasant days when they were
children.
“Between the Camp o’ Rink
And Tweed water clear,”
and to the place which lay
“Between the wet land and the dry,”
that is, between the marsh and the Catrail.
Here she had noticed the three great Stones; which made a kind of chamber
on the hill-side, and here she had anointed her eyes with the salt water
of the bottle of tears.
Then she had seen through the grass, she declared, and through the upper
soil, and she had beheld great quantities of gold. And she was running
with the bottle to tell Randal, and to touch his eyes with the water that
he might see it also. But, out of Fairyland, the strange water only had
its magical power while it was still wet on the eyelashes. This the old
nurse soon found; for she went back to the three standing stones, and
looked and saw nothing, only grass and daisies. And the fairy bottle was
broken, and all the water spilt.
This was her story, and Randal did not know what to believe. But so many
strange things had happened to him, that one more did not seem impossible.
So he and Jean took the old nurse home, and made her comfortable in her
room, and Jean put her to bed, and got her a little wine and an oat-cake.
Then Randal very quietly locked the door outside, and put the key in his
pocket. It would have been of no use to tell the old nurse to be quiet
about what she thought she had seen.
By this time it was late and growing dark. But that night there would be a
moon.
After supper, of which there was very little, Lady Ker went to bed. But
Randal and Jean slipped out into the moonlight. They took a sack with
them, and Randal carried a pickaxe and a spade. They walked quickly to the
three great stones, and waited for a while to hear if all was quiet. Then
Jean threw a white cloak round her, and stole about the edges of the camp
and the wood. She knew that if any wandering man came by, he would not
stay long where such a figure was walking. The night was cool, the dew lay
on the deep fern; there was a sweet smell from the grass and from the pine
wood.
In the meantime, Randal was digging a long trench with his pickaxe, above
the place where the old woman had knelt, as far as he could remember it.
He worked very hard, and when he was in the trench up to his knees, his
pickaxe struck against a stone. He dug round it with the spade, and came
to a layer of black burnt ashes of bones. Beneath these, which he scraped
away, was the large flat stone on which his pick had struck. It was a wide
slab of red sandstone, and Randal soon saw that it was the lid of a great
stone coffin, such as the ploughshare sometimes strikes against when men
are ploughing the fields in the Border country.
Randal had seen these before, when he was a boy, and he knew that there
was never much in them, except ashes and one or two rough pots of burnt
clay.
He was much disappointed.
It had seemed as if he was really coming to something, and, behold, it was
only an old stone coffin!
However, he worked on till he had cleared the whole of the stone
coffin-lid. It was a very large stone chest, and must have been made,
Randal thought, for the body of a very big man.
With the point of his pickaxe he raised the lid.
In the moonlight he saw something of a strange shape.
He put down his hand, and pulled it out.
It was an image, in metal, about a foot high, and represented a beautiful
woman, with wings on her shoulders, sitting on a wheel.
Randal had never seen an image like this; but in an old book, which
belonged to the Monks of Melrose, he had seen, when he was a boy, a
picture of such a woman.
The Monks had told him that she was Fortune, with her swift wings that
carry her from one person to another, as luck changes, and with her wheel
that she turns with the turning of chance in the world.
The image was very heavy. Randal rubbed some of the dirt and red clay off,
and found that the metal was yellow. He cut it with his knife; it was
soft. He cleaned a piece, which shone bright and unrusted in the
moonlight, and touched it with his tongue. Then he had no doubt any more.
The image was gold!
Randal got out the bowl first. It was covered with a green rust, and had a
lid; in short, it was a large ancient kettle, such as soldiers use in
camp. Randal got the lid off, and, behold, it was all full of very ancient
gold coins, not Greek nor Roman, but like such in use in Briton before
Julius Caesar came.
The box was of iron. On the lid, in the moonshine, Jeanie could read the
letters S. P. Q. R., but she did not know what they meant. The box had
been locked, and chained, and clamped with iron bars. But all was so rusty
that the bars were easily broken, and the lid torn off.
Then the moon shone on bars of gold, and on great plates and dishes of
gold and silver, marked with letters, and with what Randal thought were
crests. Many of the cups were studded with red and green and blue stones.
And there were beautiful plates and dishes, purple, gold, and green; and
one of these fell, and broke into a thousand pieces, for it was of some
strange kind of glass. There were three gold sword-hilts, carved
wonderfully into the figures of strange beasts with wings, and heads like
lions.
Randal and Jean looked at it and marvelled, and Jean sang in a low, sweet
voice:
“Between the Camp o’ Rink
And Tweed water clear,
Lie nine kings’ ransoms
For nine hundred year.” *
Nobody ever saw so much treasure in all broad Scotland.
Jean and Randal passed the rest of the night in hiding what they had
found. Part they hid in the secret chamber of Fairnilee, of which only
Jean and Lady Ker and Randal knew the secret. The rest they stowed away in
various places. Then Randal filled the earth into the trench, and cast
wood on the place, and set fire to the wood, so that next day there was
nothing there but ashes and charred earth.
You will not need to be told what Randal did, now that he had treasure in
plenty. Some he sold in France, to the king, Henry II., and some in Rome,
to the Pope; and with the money which they gave him he bought corn and
cattle in England, enough to feed all his neighbours, and stock the farms,
and sow the fields for next year. And Fairnilee became a very rich and
fortunate house, for Randal married Jean, and soon their children were
playing on the banks of the Tweed, and rolling down the grassy slope to
the river, to bathe on hot days. And the old nurse lived long and happy
among her new bairns, and often she told them how it was she who
really found the Gold of Fairnilee.
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