Tales from the Tent (29 page)

T
am felt the need of a cup and some dinner. All the long day he’d rounded and whistled and trekked the hillsides gathering his sheep. But
never again would the old man rise before the cock crowed or the hen laid; there were to be no more snowstorms and wild gales. Never again was he to see the skin ripped from his arms as he
scrambled down rocky outcrops to rescue fallen lambs. Nor would he again feel the anger when finding a throat-torn ewe that’d lost her way and lay sickly at the mercy of foxes and ravens. No,
Tam was finished as a shepherd, he’d done enough, already he’d worked well over retirement age, and he sorely needed a rest.

When he arrived home, Nell, his dear wife, kissed him and said, ‘Ma lad, I’ve done ye a grand pot of soup, and steaming it is, filled tae the brim wi’ carrots and neep.’
He gazed around the cosy cottage and thanked God he’d saved his old bones to tend his garden and cuddle Nell, because when folks think on hard-working shepherds they seldom give thought to
their wives. She too had suffered many a night when he failed to come home as a blizzard raged. She also had the job of helping through nights at lambing time, and now she too was deserving of the
rest. ‘Will ye miss the sheep Tam?’ Nell enquired after dinner was over and the dishes stacked.

‘Well, I’ll be honest wi’ ye wife, it’s nae the sheep but the dogs that’ll be missed.’

True were those words indeed, because he always had his faithful dogs.

However sheepdogs only know work, so when the new lad took over, the dogs would go too.

Nell went outside, then came back with something in a box. ‘Happy retirement, Tam,’ she said and sat the box at his feet on the floor.

‘What’s this ye’ve been daein noo, lassie?’ He leaned down and opened the box, to see, staring up at him, a scruffy grey puppy. ‘I’m no needing a dog Nell,
just because the collies will be missed frae the hoose disnae mean I need another one.’

‘Now you pay heed tae me, Tam, the worst thing a body can dae when they retire is sit aboot the hoose a’ day, ye’ll need tae keep your legs supple, so a dog has tae be walked
and so dae ye!’ She continued, ‘Mary Doig in the village was getting rid of her bitch’s pups, and I took him, now isn’t he bonny?’

Tam had no intentions of arguing with his well-meaning wife so he picked up the pup. Suddenly a cold shiver ran through him. ‘Did you notice this, wife—see, look, the dog has a
“ringle ee”. A dog with a grey circle on its eye is considered amongst some folks as a devil dog, and I happen tae be one o’ them—take it back.’

Now Nell didn’t believe in superstitions, and laughed at her husband’s unfounded fear.

‘Here, have a scone with your cuppy and say no more about such nonsense, devil dog indeed! Look, he’s a lovely wee thing, and see, he’s taken tae ye already.’

The pup was licking and snuggling against Tam’s hand, but he pushed it away and said, ‘I’ll no refuse a well-intended gift, but if ye think I’m petting wi’ it ye
can think again.’ At that Tam turned his back on the young dog and finished his tea.

All night long he lay in bed and felt a strange presence had entered his wee cottage, was it the dog? He couried into Nell’s back, glad she’d allowed him to kennel the pup outside in
the barn.

What a fright he got to find, when opening sleepy eyes, the dog sitting staring at the foot of their bed. ‘How in the name did you get in here?’ he said as he marched the dog out of
the room.

Nell sat up and smiled, saying, ‘the poor animal isnae long off the suckle, he was missing his mother.’ Tam came in after tying it up outside, reminding her the house was locked, so
how did a puppy get into a secure home? Neither knew, but as they lived in the country it was almost certain Tam had forgotten to lock the door as he’d done many times.

Tam refused even to give the dog a name, so Nell called it Ringy, which further pushed an invisible wedge between the man and his pet.

Two years passed, with Tam keeping his distance; he hardly gave the dog a pat or a kind word, something about it frightened him, and he never allowed it into the house at night. Nell, on the
other hand, adored the dog, bonding with it; much to her husband’s annoyance, she petted and pampered it.

Soon Tam’s fears haunted his very dreams. He became insanely jealous of the dog and thought of nothing more than of how to get rid of what he thought was a hound from hell.

One night when Nell was asleep, he sneaked from the house, tied a rope around the dog’s neck and walked it far out into darkened fields. He’d brought a spade, and finding a secluded
ditch dug furiously until he’d a hole big enough to bury the dog. Then he set about tying it up, first its mouth, then its legs, until it could neither struggle nor bark. The strange thing
was, it didn’t put up a fight, nor did it bark. Soon Tam had the dog buried deep in the hole. ‘You’ll not get out of there,’ he cried at the earth before heading home. Nell
was still sleeping when he arrived back, and as he slid between the warm sheets, a feeling of freedom spread through him.

‘Hello, Ringy, some cookit rabbit for your breakfast, ma handsome lad.’

Tam sat bolt upright in his bed on hearing his wife’s voice. ‘Please make it be a dream!’ But no, there was the dog, eating heartily on a fine breakfast. And as the old man
approached, it stared at him through those cold, grey-circled eyes.

A pain shot through Tam’s chest and spread bolts of lightning down his arms. What kind of creature was this dog? Did it bite through its bonds from the previous night’s burial? Could
he be imagining the whole thing? He did not know, but one thing he did know, was that the dog had to go.

Nell came in from gathering eggs, noticed how pale her husband had gone and immediately gave him some water. ‘What ever is the matter wi’ ye ma man?’ she asked. ‘I think
ye should see the doctor.’ She covered his knees with a shawl and fussed over him, while Ringy lay, staring all the time into the frightened old man’s eyes.

Tam didn’t answer Nell, all he could think was ‘that dog must go.’ He put the attack of pain down to muscular strain, and within three days was thinking on yet another way to
destroy the dog. It came on the Saturday whilst Nell was in the village shopping. He knew, while there, she’d visit friends, taking up most of the day in the process. He folded a sack,
leashed Ringy, then set off. Several miles away there was a steep track that he’d followed many times in search of lost sheep. At its source a burn spurts from the ground to twist and turn,
cascading from high rocks to form a powerful waterfall. So many times he’d watch helpless as sheep would slip and fall to meet their death in the deep pool below. ‘Nothing survives. The
perfect place to get rid of a demon dog,’ he thought.

It took several hours, but soon he was standing perched at the top. ‘Now, hound, this time you’ll not get back to eat rabbit or anything else from my home again.’ As before,
Ringy did not struggle and allowed Tam to tie his legs. When he was tied and stuffed in the sack, the old man lifted his live bundle and with all his strength hurled the dog into the turbulent
water. He watched as it bounced and battered from off the rocks, then disappeared into the gurgling pool far below. Tam scanned the swirling water until completely satisfied that Ringy was
drowned.

He felt free and happy as he wandered home. Nell was there, smiling, a smell of cooking wafted from the kitchen. ‘Been awa for a walk, ma love? That’s good. Now come ye in here and
git yer tea. I’ve done a braw stew, the way you like it.’

Tam sat comfortably down at the table, thinking he’d better wait until tea was finished before telling her a lie that Ringy had fallen into the falls whilst out walking.

He went over to wash his hands at a basin on the sideboard, and kissed Nell’s cheek. ‘Yes, free at last,’ he thought, then asked, ‘well, lass, how was your
day?’

‘My day was just grand. I bought some material to make new bedroom curtains and met Mrs Doig, who told me her bitch had died.’

Tam thought for a moment and said, ‘what bitch?’

‘Ringy’s mother, of course.’

‘Oh, I’ve something to tell you, lass, aboot the dog. I had him awa up at the Brae waterfall, and while I turned ma back poor Ringy fell ower.’

‘Whatever are ye saying, man? Ringy’s oot there eating a plate o’ stew.’

Like a demon possessed he ran from the house, and there it was, the devil dog, eating healthily on a plateful of stew, pausing to stare up through a grey-circled eye as Tam keeled over and hit
the cold ground.

Tam, the old shepherd, was buried a week later. A small gathering of locals attended his quiet funeral. After they left, Ringy, the grey scruffy mongrel with the ‘ringle ee’, stood
at the graveside for a few minutes, then slipped away into the fields and was never seen again.

I have conversed with many travelling folks who can tell similar tales of the ‘ringle ee’, and one told me it’s not an evil thing but a messenger who comes
from the other side to help some over.

A certain English gypsy further informed me that his good brother bought a ringle-eyed horse at Appleby Fair one year. He hobbled it with other ponies, and during the night all the horses began
screaming and pulling at their hobbles. It took all the next day to find them, and next night the same thing happened. It was decided to separate the ringle eye from the others after that.

He was tied to the wagon and during the night it went on fire. The occupants escaped with a few burns and cuts, but lost all their worldly goods. The horse freed itself, and neither hide nor
hair was seen of it again.

My father remembered seeing a ringle-eyed dog once. He was only ten years old at the time and saw it standing by a swing gate next to a river. When he approached to pet it, it ran off. Next day,
while he was passing, the dog was on the other side of the gate beside the water. This time Daddy ignored the dog and went home. That night a terrible howling wakened his family. Next morning my
father took Grandad to where he’d seen the dog, but it could not be found. Next night, once again, a terrifying howling was heard for miles around. It was so bad Granny insisted they up stock
and move. They did so, and that night the whole campsite where my father’s family had stayed was completely flooded by a deluge of torrential rain. If they hadn’t moved when they did,
then for certain they would have been drowned.

So there you have varying stories, folks, of ringle-eyed animals, beasts that make the traveller think twice.

31

BLAIRGOWRIE

A
s I write this, reader, I feel the excitement mounting as I’m thinking about Blairgowrie. It was berry time once again. Would Cousin Anna
and Berta be there? Would Lena, Mammy’s sister, and Uncle Tommy, with all the Reekie bunch, be there? I so longed to see them and get the crack. Things had been quiet since we left England,
and I’d spent empty days without company. My three sisters were turning their backs on the wildness of their travelling lives, and spent more time indoors playing cards or reading. And with
me being the forever traveller, this meant they were turning their backs on me too. They had also taken a scunner to Mammy’s hawking basket, whereas I, well, I couldn’t get enough.
Mammy had taught me the ways of hawking and I had many a grand time round the doors on my own.

Someone else came into my mind as we headed for Blair—Geordie with the wandering hands. When I thought about how hard I’d kicked the poor soul between the legs upon yon braeside
behind the berryfields, amongst cows and corn lice, all manner of things flooded my mind. Had he become a priest because I’d ruined his ableness? Perhaps he’d gone in another direction,
taking a liking to his Mammy’s clothes and speaking with a squeaky voice? These thoughts made me feel quite guilty, but hey, who was I kidding? When we met I could hardly believe it, the bold
laddie had a young wife, and with the size of her belly I’m quite certain he had suffered no lasting damage. From then on I secretly named him ‘Stone Nuts’.

Farmer Marshall’s field was full to bursting with travellers, just the way I liked it. However, not one single relative of ours was there, I hoped they would arrive soon. More important
than that was making lots of money. I was a big girl now who needed plenty underwear and the likes, so putting my loneliness on a back burner I set to work pulling pound after juicy red pound from
heavy, fruit-laden bushes, keeping half of my earnings to myself, giving the rest to Mammy for my keep.