Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 07 — John Shaqi
Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 07
General
Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 07
Scottish Borders (Scotland) -- Fiction
"And wha, Papist or heretic, could stand yon sight wi' dry een?" replied
the man, in a voice that trembled in the sinews of his throat. "I wad
hae gien a' the bodles the prelates threw me--the mair by token, I
think, that the puir callant was writhing in the fire-flaughts o' their
anger--for ae stroke wi' this kevel at the head o' yon culroun caitiff
o' an executioner. The bonny youth was roasted as if he'd been a capon
for the table o' the cardinal, only there was mair smoke than might hae
suited his lordship's palate, I reckon."
"You have got a good awmous, Carey, will sleep sound, and think nothing
of it on the morrow?" said the youth.
"Anster Fair was naething to it," replied the beadsman. "The scene
seemed to open the hearts o' prelates and priors, that never gave a
plack to a bluegown before. I held up the corner o' my gown beneath the
chapel o' the cardinal, and, sure enough, there were mair groats than
tears fell into it. Ah, sir, though my wallet was yape, my heart was
youden. But we're near the haugh road to Riddlestain, Master Henry, and,
as the night is loun and light, I carena though I step up past the
Quarryheugh wi' ye."
"You may expect small alms from the Droich," said Henry.
"No muckle, I daresay," replied the bluegown; "but I stand in nae fear
o' him, and that's mair than the bauldest heart o' the East Neuk can
say. I wad stroke the lang hair o' the creature any day for an awmous,
unearthly as he is."
"Know you aught of this extraordinary being, Carey?" said the youth, as
they turned up the haugh loan.
"Ye're no the first nor the hundredth that has put that question to the
beadsman," replied the other, as he looked up with a side-glance in the
face of the questioner. "Everybody thinks I should ken auld Mansie o'
the Quarryheugh--the mair by token, I fancy, that naebody on earth kens
mair o' him than just that he is a hurklin, gnarled carle, wha cam to
the Quarryheugh some months syne, and biggit, wi' his ain hands, a beild
which has mair banes than stanes in its bouk."
"I know more of him myself than that, Carey," said the young man.
"What ken ye?" rejoined the other, with a laugh.
Henry's silence was probably meant as a quickener of the beadsman's
garrulity.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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