The White Rabbit Lodge.

THE WHITE RABBIT LODGE

Jaick wiz a big laddie, taller than a standing spear or, weel ower sax fit aye an' weel built w't. The only problem wi' Jaick wiz that he wiz the only bairn o' an' aal widow woman an' in consequence fair spoiled by his mither. Jaick worked hard though, he vrocht fae mornin till nicht day in an' day oot come weety weather or snaw. But as year followed year he ayee got mair discontented jist makin eins meet an' livin fae haan tae moo. Onywye ae year aifter the crops were planted he decided tae broadin his horizons for eence in his life. There came the mornin he caad tae his mither an' says.

“Mither ! Bake me a bannock an' fry me a collop I'm off tae seek ma fortune!”

Noo Jaick's mither wiz neen ower pleased that her loon wis gyan awa but she ayee kent this day wid come, so she blawed up the coals an' set tae work makin his mait. She made him a doze o' fine saaty bannocks so that his bleed wid be keepit clean fae fevers an' the collops were made fae chappit beef tae gie him strength an' power. Tae it she added a skin o' the berry wine she was famed for the length an' breadth o' the wide green Buchan it wid keep his een clear so that he could see ony dangers that micht threaten.

She said handin him his bundle.

“Tak care o' yersel an' mind noo I want my laddie hame tae ma afore the first freest is come!”

page two

Jaick gave his mither a bosie promising tae be back afore the first freest wi' his fortune or athoot it for that maitter. So takin leave o' his mither Jaick set his fit tae the sooth.

* * *

There wisnae muckle o' a road jist the tracks left by coontless generations o' reivers herdin their black cattle tae the mairkets seekin the best price possible. He followed the trails as best he could but mony's the time they jist peetered oot aa-the-gither so he wint on till he came across it again. In this wye Jaick covered a lot o' leagues for he wiz in gweed fettle an' set upon as he wis on sic lang legs. He wakit fae mornin till late forenicht an' spent his first nicht in a corrie happit wi' his plydie an' yin o' his mither's bannocks an' a swig o' berry wine fae the skin in his belly. His belly fulled he wis soon asleep in the sweet mountain air. He awakened tae the sang o' the laverock an' aifter a drouth o' clean crystal clear water fae a burn he set his fit tee eence mair. In this wye did he cairry on his journey ower hill an' doon dale seein little sign o' habitation bar maybe the reek fae a lumm on some wee hoose on the side o' a distant hill. For this wiz wild bare country he wiz waakin through.

Aboot fower days intae his adventure Jaick sees the ruins o' an aal castle on tap o' the hill he wis climbing an' it bein a gye raw caal day he decided tae mak for it an' gain a bit shelter an' hae a bite an' a sup in a wee bit comfort. As he neared it he could see it hid been a grand castle in its day but noo the waa steens were crummlin awa as winter freests an' wins wore at the aal weathered steens.

In the lee o' the ruins Jaick set himsel doon in the fine lush grass that carpeted noo fit hid eence been the great hall. Ye could still see far the big fireplace wis that must've struggled tae heat sic a big gairishin o' a place. Heather wis growin oot fae the hearth steens an' o' aa things in sic a bare bit o' the country honeysuckle grew roon the fireplace like a garland. Glaid tae be oot o' the bare faced win Jaick teen oot his last collop an' wis aboot tae start eatin fin a voice fae high up on the castle waa shouted his name.

“JAICK!” The voice said an' fin he lookit up he saw a wee fat mannie ontae the crummlin waaheid.

“Oh michty me!” Jaik exclaimed. “Ye'll faa doon fae there wee mannie can ye nae see the steens are lowse!”

But the wee man peyed nae heed tae Jaick's words but jumpit fae waaheid tae waaheid like a body commin doon a wide an' broad staircase until wi' ae big loup he landed at Jaick's side. He'd a wee smilin face that wis aal yet young, in heicht he came up tae Jaick's middle an' a wee pot belly in front o' him like a woman wi' bairn. Upon his heed sat a blue bonnet wi' a tassle hingin fae it an' a suit o' claithes the same colour as heather in the summer sun, a wee neat pair o' boots upon his feet reachin tae his knees an' them that shiny it wis like lookin intae a dark lochin fin the meen is hiech.

“Weel Jaick foo's yer journey gyan?”

His een fell upon the collop Jaik hid been aboot tae eat.

“ Michty but that looks fine!' says he ' Wid ye spare a bit for a wee fat mannie like masel?”

Jaick picked it up an' broke it in twa an' handed the wee mannie haaf.

“Get that doon ye sma man but I'm afeart it's nae as fresh as it micht be for it's mony a day syne ma aal mither cooked wi' love an' care for her big spoiled son!”

The wee mannie ate it up an' licked his fingers aifterhin sayin.

“Oh me Jaick but that wiz afa fine!”

His een lichted upon the skin o' wine layin at Jaick's feet.

“Wid ye manage tae spare a drap o' fit's in yon skin tae a wee fat mannie that's in need o' a drouth aifter eatin yon fine saaty collop?”

Jaick handed him the skin sayin. “There wee man taste the berry wine ma aal mither is famed for ower the braid an' wide Buchan!”

He droochit weel fae the skin weetin his wheeple an' smacked his lips aifterhin an' says.

“Weel Jaick that's the finest berry wine that iver has crossed ma lips.” Giein Jaick a sly looks he speired o' him if he kent the recipe but Jaick didnae ken sayin his mither ayee put him fae the hoose finiver she wis tae mak wine.

Onywye recipe or no Jaick an' the wee mannie weeted o' their wheeples weel on the wine an' afore lang baith o' them were in a gye drunkin state. Jaick nae used tae takin so muckle o' the wine must've fell asleep for fin he awakened it wis nearly pitch dark. But there wis an' afa sound o' fowk spikin then slowly it stated getting lichter an' he could see the ootline o' fowk begin tae appear an' tak on substance. The wee fat mannie sat lookin at Jaick.

“Jaick!” says he, “You're seein things as they eence were here aboots in the times fin this great hall feasted kings, lairds an ladies!”

Jaick's face wis a picter o' wonder as he watched the ongyans o' the fowk, The weemin were dressed in the finest cloth niver afore seen by Jaick, the colours were like the leaves o' trees at the faa o' the year. Apart fae hamespun hodden grey an' micht be a wee bit tartan he'd niver afore seen sic colours ontill a person like that afore. The men were decked oot in chain-mail an' wore armour even they hid bricht colours on them, smocks wi' drawins o' lions an' strange beasts like a horse but wi' a big horn commin fae the tap o' their heids. Maist o' the men hid een or the ither emblazoned tae their breests. They were aa sittin doon tae dine aff a table that must've hid three trees worth o' timmer layed upon tressles an' it wis creakin aneth the wecht o' aa the fine mait layed ontae it.

The wee man says 'Jaick, tak yer een fae the table for neen o'ts for the likes o' thee!'

He tore his een fae the table as he wiz bid.

“Noo Jaick!” says the wee fat mannie, “Ye'd be a gye strong laddie I'm for thinkin?”

Jaick nodded,

“Och aye I am that, for years at the ploo an' ruggin at coorse grun his fairly made me strong richt enough!”

“Weel Jaick” says he, “I'll be needin ye tae prove that”

So sayin he pinted tae a block o' steen lyin on the fleer.

“D'ye think ye'd manage tae lift that fae the grun an' cairry it ower here?”

Jaick shrugged an' replied.

“ There's only ae wye tae find oot!”

He pit his airms aboot the block, got a gweed hanhud an' heaved at the block that wiz partially beeriet far it hid sunk intae the grun fin it hid fell fae high up on the castle waa. So Jaick pit iverything he hid intae the next lift, the veins fae his neck stood oot like straa raips as he strained tae free it, saat sweat near blined his e'e as it ran like water fae his broo. Slowly but surely it began tae come oot fae it's restin place o' centuries till wi' a groan it wis free intae Jaick's airms. It wis some wecht Jaick thocht maybe a four five hunnerwecht if it wis a pun. He staggered ower tae the wee mannie an' drappit it at his feet. 'Gaspin fae the effort Jaick says.

“Is that gweed enough for ye wee man?”

At Jaick's words he jumpit up an' danced a reel aroon the big block his wee feeties gan ninety tae the dizzen. Rubbin his haans as weel he said

“Weel done laddie, weell done! Jist the lad we've been awaitin for! Och aye!”

He danced aroon the block again an' jumpit atap o't an' diddled a tune aa the while tappin wi' his feet. Aifter a couple o' jigs an' anither reel or twa he settled himsel doon upon the block an ' crossed his legs. Jaick amused an' mair nor a bit teen aback at this display hid ae burnin question tae ask o' him. Jaick wanted tae ken

fit he meant by 'jist the lad we've been waitin for' Jaick wanted tae ken faa 'we' wiz. The wee mannie jist raised a han an' tellt him nae tae fash himsel for it wis only a figure o' speech. Afore Jaick could say onymair he speired o' him if he'd iver heard o' 'William Wallace'. At this Jaicks chest stuck oot for that name dis that tae ony true Scotchmin. “Aye I hiv that, did my ain granfaither nae wield a pike at the battle o' Stirlin brigg an' spill his life's bleed upon it!”

The wee man nodded. “ Aye Jaick hard times that, the country wiz afire fae ein tae ein and the bleed ran free like water in a burn!”

As he spoke his een hid a far awa look in them an' were afa sad. He glanced at Jaick, but the sadness hid been replaced wi' burnin anger fin he said.

“ Then came the betrayal o' The Wallace the stain o' sic a thing will marr the memory o Scottish nobles tae history for nine hunnder years and a day!”

Jaick weel understood the wee man's anger for he felt the same himsel aboot it for it wis still spoken aboot at mony true hearthsteen.

The wee mannie broke intae Jaick's thochts.

“Jaick.” says he, “I've something tae tell ye an' fit I'm aboot tae speak o' micht garr ye rin fae this place wi' the hump o' fear ontae yer back!”

He settled himsel mair comfortably on the block an' asked for a wee drouth fae the skin afore he continued. Jaick tossed the skin tae him an' waited till he teen a sup or twa. Finishin wi' a smack o' his lips he looked at Jaick an' says.

“I'm a warlock!”

Jaick felt the very hairs on his neck stan up, for the stories he'd heard o' warlocks an' the black airts hid pitten the fear o' death intae him. He wanted tae rin for his life but he thocht tae himsel he'd listen tae fit the wee mannie hid tae say an' then decide on fit course o' action he'd then tak. He stole a glance at the fowk fae lang ago millin aroon for he'd lang suspected he wis in the grips o' the powers o' darkness tae be seein fit he wis seein. Oh there wiz fear in his hert aricht but he wis also curious aboot the whole thing. The wee mannie smiled as if he kent weel fit wiz gyan throwe Jaick's mind.

“Well ye've nae ran awa so that's anither test ye've passed!”

The warlock wis weel pleased wi' this for fowk here-a-boots were afa superstitious. In fact Jaick hid passed three tests the first hid been the appearance o' aa the fowk, the ither hid been his strength an' noo bein tellt he wis in the presence o' a warlock. He held high hopes for this big curly heided lad in front o' him, for nae ither hid he tested bade beyond this point.

“Noo Jaick I ken weel enough the stories tellt aroon the hearth steen aboot warlocks but maist o' them are wrang an' the rest complete lees. The stories are pitten oot by the monks tae stop fowk believin in us!”

He teen a wee look o' aa the fowk gyan aboot their business totally oblivious tae himsel an' Jaick, then he said tae Jaick,

“The next test is this!”

He waved his han an' flames began tae lick the waas.

At this Jaick jummped tae his feet an' wi' his foreairm shieldin his een he made tae help the noo screamin an' panicking fowk but each time he grabbed for yin his hand passed clear throwe them. Realising they didnae exist in this mortal world Jaick wint back throwe the flames tae retrieve his bundle. Pickin it up he saw a scabbered sword aneth it. He grabbed it thinkin it must be as the fowk but wis surprised tae find it wiz real. The heat fae the flames though were real enough as they scammed ony exposed bit o' him. He shouted for the wee mannie but the screams o' the fowk an' the roar o' the flames made it impossible for tae hear him so he staggered his wye oot fae the castle an' stood watchin as the flames devoured athing that wid burn. A strange thing began tae happen tae the flames slowly they got less an' less but nae in the wye a fire usually gyangs oot wi' odd sparks an' a bit o' a lowe, no they wint oot like it simply wint tae sleep and an eerie darkness fell upon the place. Aifter a wee while Jaick made his wye back intae the castle his hert thumpin in his breest wi' the fear o't. As he wint throwe the doorway back inside it wiz jist as it wiz afore wi' the grass growin ontae the fleer, nae a flame hid licked this place in mony a year. Puzzled he sat himsel doon an' shouted for the warlock. His ain voice came back at him as it echoed aff the crumblin ruins but nae sicht nor a sound did he get o' the warlock. Jaick's instinct wiz tae leave this place as fast as his lang legs wid cairry him but his curiosity hid been awakened. Hid he jist been haein a bad dream? Surely he'd be awake by noo! But he knew he wisnae dreamin for in his han he'd the sword an' it wis real.

He teen a closer look at it, a massive claymore made o' the finest steel wi' an edge ontae it that wid cut its wye throwe flesh, bone an' even armour wi' ae michty swing. It wis heavy, nearly as heavy as the block the warlock hid asket him tae lift.

“Weel Jaick yer still here are ye?”

The voice come oot o' the shadaas makin Jaick jump. The wee mannie come an' sat doon at his side sayin.

“Ye got the sword I see!”

He put his han ontae Jaick's shooder.

“Ye'll be wantin tae ken aa aboot it I'm for thinkin? For yer a curious kind o' lad Jaick.”

Jaick said nithin an' jist waited for him tae cairry on. He made himsel mair comfortable the same as he did afore an' Jaick nae waitin for the request handed him the skin o' berry wine o' which he teen a gweed drouth afore handin it back tae him wi' a smack o' his lips.

“Gran stuff that min I'll hae tae ask yer mither for mair o' that!”

Clearin his thrapple he says.

“Well noo; the sword ye hae in yer han is the very same battle blade the Wallace himsel used tae sic gran effect in the cause o' Scotland!”

He leaned ower an' teen it fae Jaick's han. Heftin it as it wis the wecht o' a feather he carried on his story.

“This sword here has the very essence o' that gran man intill its very core, it lives Jaick, aa that's nott is a man tae wield it, a man wi' huge power in his airms an' a hert as true as the north win that will blaw foriver mair upon this crummlin waa steens!”

He stared intae the middle distance an' micht be far beyond for it seemed an age afore he spoke again.

“In you I hae found baith, you are the man I've waited for aa this years gan by!” said he handin the sword back tae Jaick.

He wiz quate for a wee but his een were on Jaick they niver waivered fae his face.

“As I tellt ye I'm a warlock but fit I didnae tell ye is that I'm commin tae the end o' my time Jaick, I wiz entrusted wi' my poweres for nine hunder years and one day an' time is close for me Jaick but there's ae mair thing I maun dee afore I gyang on tae the Glens o' Syne!”

He wis quate again but his een niver wavered fae his by a flicker.

“I'm needin ye tae clear this land o' a scourge that his plagued it for mair than a generation. They are a band o' cut throats wi' direct bleed line tae them that betrayed The Wallace; I need ye Jaick,”

He nodded tae himsel,

“Aye I need ye Jaick tae tak Wallace's battle blade an' wipe the shame fae history by sendin them tae their whitelivered ancestors by this blade shod wi' the metal free!”

Jaick wis fare put oot by the warlock's words.

' I've niver in aa ma life wielded a brand, I ken nithing o' battle, I'd be slaachtered an' layed low afore ye could blink!'

He put the sword fae him,

“ Na na wee mannie I'm nae the yin tae dee this thing ye ask!”

Jaick stood up tae tak his leave fin the warlock asket o' him tae tak the brand wi' him an' that his ain destiny an' that o' Scotland baith

braid an' lang lies within that sword. Jaick's ain words tae his mither came tae mind an' mocked him. ' Bake me a bannock an' fry me a collop mither for I'm aff tae seek ma fortune!' Resigned tae his fate or destiny he picked up the sword an' tied it tae his back takin his leave o' the wee man set his fit tae the sooth eence mair. The warlock shouted fae heich in the castle waa.

“Mind Jaick the road ye waak leads tae yer destiny!”

As the days gid by Jaick came upon mair populated areas throwe clachans an' wee toons he passed but the folk here aboots werenae ower freenly an' wid jist glower at him until he moved on. Noo by this time Jaick wis in dire straichts the sheen upon his feet were fare worn throwe, the pyoke at his side wiz teem nae a crummle left within an' him wi' his belly that teem he thocht it wis beginin tae eat itsel. Sittin himsel doon in the lee o' an' aal felldyke he picked a hanfae o' sooriks an' chawed ontae the wee soor leaves hoping tae stave aff the hunger that wiz clawin at his intimmers. He wis but a meenit sat doon fin a bonnie wee rabbit came fae a hole by his side, it wiz as white as the driven snaw an' hid the bonniest pink een that he iver did see. He pit oot his han an' picked it up takin it intae his bosie, he said tae it,

' Michty but yer a bonnie wee cratur!'

He scratted its luggies an' it seemed quite content tae let him dee that. Eence fin he wiz a loon he'd seen yin at a fair, the man faa owned it tellt

him they were affa rare. Jaick though wiz gye hungry an' here intae his bosie wiz the makins o' a meal that wid be fit for a king. It wid've teen but a second tae kill it but hungry though Jaick wiz

he couldnae bring himsel tae dee it, so he pit it back aside its wee hole sayin,

' There ye are bonnie wee cratur gyang ye back tae yer hoosie!'

Pickin up his sword he slung it tae his back an' set sail ontae the next bit o' his journey. The barefaced country that he'd so far traivelled began slowly tae change tae greener lands till eventually he came upon a massive forest, there wiz a better defined trail here so he could fare knipe on. Aifter a couple o' leagues through the forest he come on a burn, stoppin he weeted his wheeple wi' the crystal clear water that wiz baith cool an' sweet. He looked tae see if there wiz ony trooties under the bank that he could guddle but could see nithing barr a puckle wee eels but they were ower fast for him tae catch. But he spotted something else ontae the opposite bank growin on a grassy knoll , mushrooms; great big mushrooms each yin the size o' his fist. In a second he jumpit the burn an' picked a whole pile o' them, he peeled een fae the bottom tae the tap tae mak sure they were mushrooms an' nae toadstools. Jaick kent that if the skin comes aff fae bottom till tap then ye can ate them athoot fear, a toadstool disnae dee that. In nae time ava he'd skewered them throwe wi' a bit o' broom an' set fire tae a pile o' dry sticks wi' his flint an' fleerish. The fire wiz seen gyan weel an' he toasted the mushrooms ower the yella lickin flames. Michty but they tasted gran an' he feasted weel upon them, for the first time in mony a day his belly wis foo. Aifter his feast Jaick decided tae hae a wee nap he felt that content wi' himsel. Lyin doon ontae the saany bank o' the burn far the warm sun wiz shining throwe the trees. Jaick, much like the proverbial ' gentleman that wiz

niver nott' layed himsel tae repose. Fin he awoke a fair fylie later he gid himsel a gweed streech an' got tae his feet. The very first thing that his een lichted upon ontae the ither side o' the bank wis the bonnie white rabbit lookin at him. Fin he crossed the burn it niver ran awa but alloed itsel tae be picked up intae Jaick's bosie.

“ Well my wee freen' says Jaick scrattin its wee luggies, ' Yer a lang wye fae hame!”

Aifter pettin it for a wee while he layed it back ontae the grun sayin.

“ Ye'd best gyang back tae yer hole wee craetur for ye've come a lang wye an' it could be dangerous for ye here!”

Jaick made tae cross the burn eence mair fin the rabbit started thumpin the grun wi' its hin legs. It wiz angry that Jaick hid left it on the opposite bank for he could see its body hunched an' its luggies set at the side o' its heid an' a noise nae handy wi' its feet drummin the grun. Jaick laached,

“ Weel weel yer wantin across the burn are ye?”

So he picked it up an' set it ontae the ither bank. Jaick fulled his breidbag till it wiz stappit foo o' the mushrooms, mair than enough tae dee for a puckle days. He set his fit tee again an' afore lang he wiz deep intae the forest eence mair but this time he'd company. The white rabbit wis follyin him an' each time he lookit back sure enough there it wiz loupin alang . He tried a puckle times tae chase it awa but na na it wiz ayee there fin he lookit roon. So at length wi' the gloamin commin doon he decided tae stop an' roast a puckle mair o' them afa fine mushroom for his belly wis makin an' affa rummlin sound o' its ain accord. Soon he'd a gweed lowe o'

a fire gyan an' in nae time the mushrooms were roasted. As he ate, his new companion come loupin inaboot so he gave the wee rabbit a twa'r three mushrooms an' it ate them wi' obvious enjoyment. Jaick teen oot the skin o' his mither's wine for he'd ayee keepit a wee drap o' the precious liquid an' ilka nicht he'd tak but a wee sup. The rabbit seemed affa interested in fit Jaick wiz deein so he put a wee drappy intae the palm o' his han an' let the rabbit sup o' it, he could feel its wee tongue lappin up the wine till there wisnae a drap left. That nicht the rabbit slept intae Jaick's bosie wuppit in his plydie for he wiz feart that a fox or a beast o' that kind micht tak it in the nicht.

Next day wiz caal an' driech so he set tee athoot a bite pitten the wee rabbit intae his breidpyoke far it wiz fine an' dry. Wuppin his plydie aboot him tae keep himsel dry he set sail eence mair. That day Jaick come upon a sicht that made his very bleed rin caal. He entered a wee clachin o' aboot a dizen hoosies far ivery man woman an' bairn hid been pitten tae the sword. Jaick kent weel that it must hae happened a gweed few days afore for aa the bodies were rotten an' the sweet seekly smell o' death hung ower the place near makin his stomach turn ower. Jaick wis angry! Oh michty but he wis angry that sic a thing should happen in the days o' peace. Aifter checkin oot the hooses tae see if by chance somebody wiz still alive he left that place as fast as feet could cairry him. The forest hereaboots wiz much thicker noo an' somehow Jaick sensed he wiz headin for the hert o't. As he distanced himsel fae the horrific scenes he'd witnessed, Jaick's anger subsided, he slowed doon tae a slower pace. But it wisnae tae last lang for twice mair on that day's journey he wiz tae meet in wi' the sicht o' mair slaachtered fowk. The difference this time wiz that they'd been hingit heich an' their bairnies hid been dashed tae death against a steen waa, their wee broken bodies scattered aneath the very trees their mithers an' faithers hingit fae. This time Jaick's anger wiz roused tae sic a pitch that he teen Wallace's sword intae his twa hans an' swore an oath tae avenge sic slaachter.

It wiz in the foreneen o' the next day that he heard loud voices comming throwe the trees. Slowly he made his wye towards the sound his nostrils pickin up the fine smell o' roasting meat. Eventually he came ontae a clearin in the forest. Standin in the lee o' a massive oak Jaick saw fit he teen tae be a band o' brigands seated aboot a puckle big fires drinkin wine an' eatin o' the reid deer an' wild boar bein brannered ower the loupin flames. Jaick hid nae doot that this wiz the men that hid deen the cruel deeds he'd jist seen. Angry though he wiz Jaick wis nae fool a-the-gither for if there wiz ae man there wiz a hunder, an' each hid armour an' swords within easy reach. There wiz nae wye on God's earth that him on his leen could fecht against sic odds that an' army wid be nott for. He wiz aboot tae slip quaitley awa fin the sword strappit tae his back began tae tug up an' doon. He drew it tae see fit wiz wrang an' he near let it faa fin he saw the warlock's face upon the boss o' the sword.

“Dinna be fleggit Jaick!” It said. 'I tellt ye I'm a warlock an I also tellt ye that ye'd come tae yer destiny, so there it is tae yer fore!”

Jaick looked at the brigands an' fellt his intimmers tichtin wi' the fear. The face on the sword says tae him.

“Tak me in yer twa haans let the essence o' the great 'Wallace' flow throwe yer being Jaick an' let me lead ye tae battle for my destiny lies here ana!” At the warlock's words Jaick felt the sword get warm as if slowly bein heated at the smiddy fire. He felt intae his breidpyoke tae tak oot his wee rabbit but it wisnae there. he thocht it micht hae teen flegg at aa the voices an' wiz doon a hole somewye. The sword gid oot wi' a merciful scream an' aa the brigands looked up towards Jaick for it wiz the loudest sound ony hid iver heard afore including Jaick. He kent he wis a deid man did Jaick but he thocht tae himsel that if he ran awa they'd track him doon an' slaachter him like a pig an' the coordly knave he wiz' if he wint forritt the same fate awaited him but at least he'd be takin a puckle wi' him tae the grave!. Jaick teen a gweed grip o' the hanle an' charged for the group that hid got ower the shock o' the scream an' hid wint tae arms. The sword felt as licht as a feather as he started tae swing tae the left an' the richt. Een o' the men tried tae parry a blow but Jaick's sword cut his een in twa, Jaick pulled back wi' shock but the sword almost on its leen dragged him forritt tae finish aff the foe. Aifter that Jaick let the sword lead for it seemed tae him aa that wiz needed wiz his strength tae keep it high, the sword deein the rest. He cut a swathe throwe the men as if cuttin ripe corn, they fell in raas neen tae iver stand again. Aifter aboot acht oors o' battle Jaick began tae feel his mighty strength begin tae sap awa. The hanle o' the sword wiz

slippy wi' bleed and gore, it wiz even drippin fae his elbow. But Jaick keepit it up feelin the sword cut throwe armour, been an' sinew. The screams o' the deein fulled his lugs an' the smell o' hot bleed fair seekend him aathegither. But still he keepit swingin till nae one man barr himsel wiz left living. Fochin deen he sat himsel doon ontae a grassy knoll his chest heavin as he sooked in breath, his airms shakin like a leaf an' his hert thumpin like a war drum. Pullin a hanfae o' girss he wiped himsel clean o' bleed an' gore or as muckle as he could get aff withoot water. Pitten his heid atween his knees he sat that wye for a gye lang fyle afore he felt rested enough.

“Well Jaick ye've deen weel! Ye were even stronger than I thocht!”

The warlock hid appeared an' wiz sittin ontae the stump o' a tree.

“Ye've cleared this land o' a scourge wi' bravery an' strength I've yet tae set my een upon in nearly nine hunder years if it's a day!”

Jaick shook his heidn' says.

“It teen neither strength nor bravery on my part wee mannie for the sword wiz magic as ye weel ken!”

The warlock laached lang an' loud at Jaick's words then said.

“Jaick.” said he. “That sword is nae mair magic than flee intae the very air ye breathe, for I'm afeart Jaick my lad that I tellt ye a lee, it wiz the only wye I could could've gotten ye tae dee it!”

Jaick wis mighty angry at the wee mannie but calmed doon doon fin the warlock explained that his kind werenae alloed tae interfere wi' the workins o' mortals. If they iver did find themsels embroiled they were forbidden fae usin magic. So the only wye he could get the slaachterin stoppit an' tae avenge some o' the shame left for the

death o' the great Wallace wiz for him tae find the strongest an' bravest man in aa Scotland an' get him tae dee it. Jaick wiz nae for that an' said he wiz nae the strongest nor yet the bravest man in the land.

“Surley there is better men than the likes o' me born tae hud the ploo an' swing the heuck!”

The wee mannie nodded.

“Aye Jaick there are higher born men, aye men faa hae athing, power, mony, titles an' even some wi' great strength an' bravery, but neen hiv fit you've gotten Jaick my laddie honesty an'compassion!”

The wee mannie put his han ontae Jaick's shooder.

“Tell me something big lad. Why did ye nae rin awa fin I showed ye fit hid happened so lang ago in the aal castle, why did ye nae tak tae yer heels like ivery ither man tested?'

In reply Jaick jist srugged his shooders.

“I dinna really ken for I wiz surley terrifeart o' yon vision o' aa that poor fowk bein teen wi' the flames, I wanted tae rin awa and I very nearly did but somehow I wiz curious.”

Jaick scratted his heid an' wipit some o' the coolin sweat fae aff his broo an carried on.

“I wiz curious aboot you ana for niver hiv I met sic an interestin mannie in aa ma born days!”

Jaick looked closely at the wee mannie.

“Could I speir at ye aboot something?”

The warlock smiled an' says

“Of course ye can Jaick askit awa!”

Jaick seemed a wee bit reluctant but he teen a deep breath.

“Weel it's like this, you say yer a warlock an' of course aifter fit aa I've saw wi' my ain een an deen wi' my ain hans I fairly believe ye, but ye says tae me nae meenits ago that yere commin tae the ein o' yer nine hunder years and a day!”

The wee mannie nodded but said nithin. “Weel.' says Jaick wi' a sad look intae his een. Diz that mean yer gyan tae dee?”

The wee mannie smiled fair touched by Jaick's question but he laached tae hide his ain emotion.

“Feggs min I thocht for a meenit ye were gyan tae ask ma aboot wishes an' crocks o' gowd wi' the licht o' greed in yer een, ye ken the kind o' thing. But in answer tae yer question, no I'm nae gyan tae dee, weel nae in the wye you understand bein a mortal, no I pass on tae a different realm I become something else but I dinna dee the wye you think. The wee mannie smiled.

“Diz that answer yer question?”

Jaick looked thochtful.

“Weel- - - if that's yer answer then that's it an' that's aa. But there's ae ither thing I'd like tae speir at ye, something that eywis his puzzled ma!”

“Caa awa !” says the wee mannie.

“ Weel it's like this there wiz an aal woman fae oor village accused o' bein a witchie wife by some o' the fowk an' she wiz teen awa tae Aiberdeen by the Kirk an' there tried by law tae her bein han in glove wi' the black airts. The poor aal craiter wiz burned at the stake for supposedly bein a witchie wife. Noo I dinna think she

wiz sic a thing but only an aal wifie faa wiz a wee bit dottled. But if she wiz yin why did she nae use the black airts tae save hersel fae sic an afa death.”

The warlock nodded.

“Gweed question big lad but yin wi' a simple answer, she wiz nae witch!” The wee mannie shook his heid sadly.

“O' aa the peer fowk pitten tae the ordeal o' the flame nae one witch or warlock his yet deet for they niver get caught!” Jaick nodded his understanding. Getting tae his feet tae tak his leave Jaick handed the wee mannie the last o the berry wine and said “ If ye're in the district come roon by wee mannie and we'll hae a gweed drouth o the wine an ate o the finest saaty bannocks an tasty collops in aa the bonny lands o the Buchan!”

Aifter leavin the place o' death Jaick found his wee rabbit watin for him on the trail so he picked it up an' pit it intae his breid pyowk an' happit it wi' his plydie. He made the lang traips back tae the castle far his adventure hid began. The wee mannie hid tellt him tae return the sword tae the very place he hid found it. So three days did he waak wi' hardly a rest day or nicht. The meen wiz full at this time o' the month so he could see as far as a body could want tae so day an' nicht he waakit. Neither a bite nor a sup passed his lips in aa that time for he wzs still seek aboot the slaachter he hid deen. He avoided the wee clachins far the brigands hid put aa the peer fowk tae the sword for nae one mair sicht o' a deid body could Jaick manage tae face. At length he come across the hill far the castle stood grey an' driech commin oot o' the early mornin mist. Soakin o' weet fae the thick hingin mist Jaick made his wye up the hill towards the sombre waa steens. As he approached the gatewye he shuddered an' felt the very hairs on the back o' his neck birrse up like a cat's back that's been fleggit. The aal waasteens were rinnin o' water fae the mist probably jist as they'd deen for a thoosand years passed an' probably will dee for anither thoosand years. He passed throwe the door intae the great hall an' athoot lookin aboot him wint ower tae the place far he'd found the sword an' layed it doon on the grun. The warlock hid tellt him that Wallace's sword hid a destiny o' its ain tae meet.

The wee white rabbit jumped oot fae his breid pyoke an' jumpit aroon the place afore gan intae a hole aneath the massive hearth steen o' the gran fireplace Jaick wis disappointed at this for he socht tae tak the wee white rabbit hame wi' him. Sadly he made tae leave fin he heard the rabbit thumpin the grun ablow the hearthsteen, he thocht maybe that it wiz stuck an' pit his han doon the hole but nae maitter foo he tried he jist couldnae reach it. Eventually Jaick teen the edge o' the massive slad o' sclate an' usin aa his strength lifted the whole hearthsteen. Under it stood his wee white rabbit sittin on tap o' the biggest kist he iver did see. The kist wiz made o' a timmer that he'd niver seen afore an' roon it wiz bands o' bronze wi' huge hasps an' locks. It teen Jaick oors tae open but fin he at last pulled up the lid his een lichted ontae thoosands o' gold coins. Jaick made a lot o' journeys back an' fore tae hame each time loaded doon wi bags o' gold till nae one coin wis left. He bocht the estate fae the laird an' biggit his aal mither the bonniest lodge that money could buy. But money meant little tae Jaick he wiz mair pleased tae see his aal mither nae haein tae want in her aal age. Jaick wiz a good laird tae his cottars biggin them aa new hooses wi' sclated reefs instead o' the sprots an' sod that wis normally used in the Buchan. His constant companion though wiz his wee white rabbit an' aa the gowd in Scotland widnae hae been enough tae buy him fae Jaick. A few years hid wint passed by this time an' ae nicht as Jaick lay asleepin he heard a rummle in his bedchamber an' here wiz his rabbit glowin in the dark an' it spoke in the voice o the wee mannie.

“Weel Jaick!' says he ' My time is up I've deen my nine hunder years an' noo this is the day, it's your turn now Jaick for I've chosen you tae dee the next nine hunder years and one day!”

Wi' that his wee white rabbit jumpit oot o' the windae an' ran awa intae the wids. Aifter that nicht Jaick tellt aa the cottars on his estate niver tae kill ony white rabbits. It wiz the only rule he iver imposed on them, in fact for the times it wiz a law because Jaick wiz aifter aa the laird. Noo as the years an' centuries gid by the only rabbits aboot the estate are white for nae till this day will ony o' Jaick's cottars kill a white rabbit. Jaick's place is caad the White Rabbit Lodge but ye'll nae find it ontae ony map in exsistence for that's nae the name that it's kent as tae mortal fowk. The only pointer that I can gie ye is that the place is at the far west o' the braid lans o' the Buchan an' that fae Jaicks place ye can smell the saat sea o' the Moray Firth but yer e'e winae behold the water. If ye are lucky enough tae find the place well ye'd see Jaick for he's near twa hunder years tae go afore its his day!

Ein

 

copyright © Patrick Hutchison

---------------------------------------------------------