By Loch and by Lin: Tales from Scottish Ballads Read online

So he set himself on a milk-white steed and she set herself on a gray, and off to the church they rode with the merry wedding company. The knight pulled his hat down low on his brow to hide his face from all who might see, but his bonnie bride held her head up high, as she rode by the bridegroom’s milk-white steed.

  When they came out of the church again a beggar-woman stood by the door. She held out her hand and begged for alms for the sake of sweet charity. The bride put a crown in the old crone’s hand. “Now, mother, run home,” said she, “and tell all the folk at home that the queen’s youngest brother’s your son-in-law!”

  “O hold your tongue, you beggar’s brat!” the young knight said. “With shame you’ll break my heart in two!”

  “As you did mine,” said the bonnie lass, “when you cast me off, back yon on the green grassy brae.”

  Then he rode on, on his milk-white steed, and she rode beside him on the gray.

  They came to a place where, in the dike, the nettles grew rank and high. “Good day to you, you nettles tall!” cried she. “If my old mother were only here, how fast she’d pull you all! She’d pick you and pull you and chop you fine, and in her old brass pot she’d stew you well, and she would make of you a very fine mess of kail. Then she’d eat of you until she was full, and go to sleep with her head in her plate like any old barnyard sow.”

  “O hold your tongue, you beggar’s brat!” cried the knight. “With shame you’ll break my heart in two!”

  “As you did mine,” said the bonnie lass, “when you cast me off, back yon on the green grassy brae.”

  Then he rode on, on his milk-white steed, and she rode beside him on the gray.

  They came to a mill by a flowing race, with the mill wheel clacketing away. “Good day to you, you bonnie wheel,” said the lass. “If my old mother were only here she’d be beholden to you for many a handful of meal you’ve ground that she’s scraped up from the floor of the mill. And she’d clean it and soak it, and boil it in her old brass pot and make it into both porridge and broth, and then all the folk in the house would eat till they were full.”

  “O hold your tongue, you beggar’s brat!” cried the knight. “For with shame you’ll break my heart in two!”

  “As you did mine,” said the bonnie lass, “when you cast me off, back yon on the green grassy brae.”

  No wedding guests were ever so gay as the king and his company that morn. The king had ordered the wedding feast to be laid and waiting for their return in his great dining hall. The king and his lords and their ladies made merry as they sat down to dine, but the bridegroom frowned and sighed, and turned his back on his bonnie bride, and looked the other way.

  The bonnie lass looked at the golden plates and cups, and at the silver spoons with which the table was laid. “Away with your golden plates and tassies!” cried she. “And go and fetch me my wee wooden bowl from which I ate, back yon on the green grassy brae. And take away your silver spoons, for they are not for me. I could never eat and enjoy my food from any but my own old cow’s horn spoon.”

  “O hold your tongue, you beggar’s brat!” said the knight. “With shame you’ll break my heart in two!”

  “As you did mine,” said the bonnie lass, “when you cast me off, back yon on the green grassy brae.”

  He turned his face to the wall and wept. “I wish I had ridden by,” said he, “and never stopped to dally with you, back yon on the green grassy brae.”

  A stranger pair you’d never see at any wedding feast. They turned their backs to each other and sat, and the bonnie bride smiled and the bridegroom wept.

  A servingman stood behind each chair to serve the food and pour the wine, and the two behind the bride and the groom were talking softly together. Earl Richard heard the words they said, and thought he had not heard aright. “A match more fitting I’ve never seen,” said one of the servingmen to the other, “than that the Scottish king’s daughter should wed the queen of England’s youngest brother!”

  Earl Richard looked to the left, and he looked to the right, and then he turned about in his chair and looked at the bonnie lass.

  “If you are the king of Scotland’s daughter, as I think you may be,” said he, “seven times this year I’ve knocked at your door, but you never would open it for me!”

  “And if I refused your gold, young man,” she said, “the reason you can plainly see. For every gold piece you could lay down, my father could lay three.”

  “But if you are not a shepherd’s lass, as I’m beginning to see,” said he, “what were you doing, tending the sheep, back yon on the green grassy brae?”

  “I was laying a snare to catch the feet of a foolish young knight,” said she.

  “A foolish young knight like me,” he said ruefully.

  “Oh, come now! Let us forget the things that are past and start out anew!” said she.

  So he took her hand and kissed her cheek, and put his arm round her waist so trim, and he saw by the twinkle in her eye that she would not take his arm away.

  So in the end it all came right, and a happier wedding was never seen, than that of the king of Scotland’s daughter who married the youngest brother of the English queen.

  About the Author

  Sorche Nic Leodhas (1898–1969) was born LeClaire Louise Gowans in Youngstown, Ohio. After the death of her first husband, she moved to New York and attended classes at Columbia University. Several years later, she met her second husband and became LeClaire Gowans Alger. She was a longtime librarian at the Carnegie Library in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, where she also wrote children’s books. Shortly before she retired in 1966, she began publishing Scottish folktales and other stories under the pseudonym Sorche Nic Leodhas, Gaelic for Claire, daughter of Louis. In 1963, she received a Newbery Honor for Thistle and Thyme: Tales and Legends from Scotland. Alger continued to write and publish books until her death 1969.

  All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 1969 by Leclaire G. Alger

  Cover design by Liz Connor

  ISBN: 978-1-4976-3999-7

  This edition published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.

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  EBOOKS BY SORCHE NIC LEODHAS

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