Young Bekie

: Tales From Scottish Ballads

"Young Bekie was as brave a knight

As ever sailed the sea;

And he's done him to the Court of France

To serve for meat and fee.



He hadna been in the Court of France

A twelvemonth, nor sae lang,

Till he fell in love with the King's daughter,

And was thrown in prison strang."





It was the Court of France: the gayest, and
he brightest, and the

merriest court in the whole world. For there the sun seemed always to be

shining, and the nobles, and the fair Court ladies did not know what

care meant.



In all the palace there was only one maiden who wore a sad and troubled

look, and that was Burd Isbel, the King's only daughter.



A year before she had been the lightest-hearted maiden in France. Her

face had been like sunshine, and her voice like rippling music; but now

all was changed. She crept about in silence, with pale cheeks, and

clouded eyes, and the King, her father, was in deep distress.



He summoned all the great doctors, and offered them all manner of

rewards if only they would give him back, once more, his light-hearted

little daughter. But they shook their heads gravely; for although

doctors can do many things, they have not yet found out the way to make

heavy hearts light again.



All the same these doctors knew what ailed the Princess, but they dare

not say so. That would have been to mention a subject which nearly threw

the King into a fit whenever he thought of it.



For just a year before, a brave young Scottish Knight had come over to

France to take service at the King's Court. His name was Young Bekie,

and he was so strong and so noble that at first the King had loved him

like a son. But before long the young man had fallen in love with Burd

Isbel, and of course Burd Isbel had fallen in love with him, and he had

gone straight to the King, and asked him if he might marry her;--and

then the fat was in the fire.



For although the stranger seemed to be brave, and noble, and good, and

far superior to any Frenchman, he was not of royal birth, and the King

declared that it was a piece of gross impertinence on his part ever to

think of marrying a king's daughter.



It was in vain that the older nobles, who had known Burd Isbel since she

was a child, begged for pity for the young man, and pointed out his good

qualities; the King would not listen to them, but stamped, and stormed,

and raged with anger. He gave orders that the poor young Knight should

be shut up in prison at once, and threatened to take his life; and he

told his daughter sharply that she was to think no more about him.



But Burd Isbel could not do that, and she used to creep to the back of

the prison door, when no one was near, and listen wistfully, in the hope

that she might hear her lover's voice. For a long time she was

unsuccessful, but one day she heard him bemoaning his hard fate--to be

kept a prisoner in a foreign land, with no chance of sending a message

to Scotland of the straits that he was in.



"Oh," he murmured piteously to himself, "if only I could send word home

to Scotland to my father, he would not leave me long in this vile

prison. He is rich, and he would spare nothing for my ransom. He would

send a trusty servant with a bag of good red gold, and another of bonnie

white silver, to soften the cruel heart of the King of France."



Then she heard him laugh bitterly to himself.



"There is little chance that I will escape," he muttered, "for who is

likely to carry a message to Scotland for me? No, no, my bones will rot

here; that is clear enough. And yet how willingly I would be a slave, if

I could escape. If only some great lady needed a servant, I would gladly

run at her horse's bridle if she could gain me my liberty. If only a

widow needed a man to help her, I would promise to be a son to her, if

she could obtain my freedom. Nay, if only some poor maiden would promise

to wed me, and crave my pardon at the King's hand, I would in return

carry her to Scotland, and dower her with all my wealth; and that is not

little, for am I not master of the forests, and the lands, and the

Castle of Linnhe?"



Many a maiden would have been angry had she heard her lover speak these

words; but Burd Isbel loved him too much to be offended at anything

which he said, so she crept away to her chamber with a determined look

on her girlish face.



"'Tis not for thy lands or thy Castle," she whispered, "but for pure

love of thee. Love hath made maidens brave ere now, and it will make

them brave again."



That night, when all the palace was quiet, Burd Isbel wrapped herself in

a long gray cloak, and crept noiselessly from her room. She might have

been taken for a dark shadow, had it not been for her long plait of

lint-white hair and her little bare feet, which peeped out and in

beneath the folds of her cloak, as she stole down the great polished

staircase.



Silently she crept across the hall, and peeped into the guard-room.



All the guards were asleep, and, on the wall above their heads hung the

keys of the palace, and beside them a great iron key. That was the key

of the prison. She stole across the floor on tip-toe, making no more

noise than a mouse, and, stretching up her hand, she took down the heavy

key, and hid it under her cloak. Then she sped quickly out of the

guard-room, and through a turret door, into a dark courtyard where the

prison was. She fitted the key in the lock. It took all her strength to

turn it, but she managed it at last, and, shutting the door behind her,

she went into the little cell where Young Bekie was imprisoned.



A candle flickered in its socket on the wall, and by its light she saw

him lying asleep on the cold stone floor. She could not help giving a

little scream when she saw him, for there were three mice and two great

rats sitting on the straw at his head, and they had nibbled away nearly

all his long yellow hair, which she had admired so much when first he

came to Court. His beard had grown long and rough too, for he had had no

razors to shave with, and altogether he looked so strange that she

hardly knew him.



At the sound of her voice he woke and started up, and the mice and the

rats scampered away to their holes. He knew her at once, and in a moment

he forgot his dreams of slaves, and widows, and poor maidens. He sprang

across the floor, and knelt at her feet, and kissed her little white

hands.



"Ah," he said, "now would I stay here for ever, if I might always have

thee for a companion."



But Burd Isbel was a sensible maiden, and she knew that if her lover

meant to escape, he must make haste, and not waste time in making pretty

speeches. She knew also that if he went out of prison looking like a

beggar or a vagabond, he would soon be taken captive again, so she

hurried back to the palace, and went hither and thither noiselessly with

her little bare feet, and presently she returned with her hands full of

parcels.



She had brought a comb to comb the hair which the rats had left on his

head, and a razor for him to shave himself with, and she had brought

five hundred pounds of good red money, so that he might travel like a

real Knight.



Then, while he was making his toilet, she went into her father's stable,

and led out a splendid horse, strong of limb, and fleet of foot, and on

it she put a saddle and a bridle which had been made for the King's own

charger.



Finally, she went to the kennels, and, stooping down, she called softly,

"Hector, Hector."



A magnificent black hound answered her call and came and crouched at her

feet, fawning on them and licking them. After him came three companions,

all the same size, and all of them big enough to kill a man.



These dogs belonged to Burd Isbel, and they were her special pets. A

tear rolled down her face as she stooped and kissed their heads.



"I am giving you to a new master, darlings," she said. "See and guard

him well."



Then she led them to where the horse was standing, saddled and bridled;

and there, beside him, stood Young Bekie. Now that his beard was

trimmed, and his hair arranged, he looked as gallant, and brave, and

noble as ever.



When Burd Isbel told him that the money, and the hounds, and the horse

with its harness, were all his, he caught her in his arms, and swore

that there had never been such a brave and generous maiden born before,

and that he would serve her in life and death.



Then, as time was pressing, and the dawn was beginning to break, they

had to say farewell; but before they did so, they vowed a solemn vow

that they would be married to each other within three years. After this

Burd Isbel opened the great gate, and her lover rode away, with money in

his pocket, and hounds by his side, like the well-born Knight that he

was; and nobody who met him ever imagined that he was an escaped

prisoner, set free by the courage of the King's daughter.



* * * * *





Alas, alas, for the faithfulness of men! Young Bekie was brave, and

gentle, and courteous, but his will was not very strong, and he liked to

be comfortable. And it came about that, after he had been back in

Scotland for a year, the Scotch King had a daughter for whom he wanted

to find a husband, and he made up his mind that Young Bekie would be the

very man for her.



So he proposed that he should marry her, and was quite surprised and

angry when the young man declined.



"It is an insult to my daughter," he said, and he determined to force

Bekie to do as he wanted, by using threats. So he told the Knight, that,

if he agreed to marry his daughter, he would grow richer and richer,

but, if he refused, he would lose all his lands, and the Castle of

Linnhe.



Poor Young Bekie! I am afraid he was not a hero, for he chose to marry

the Princess and keep his lands, and he tried to put the thought of Burd

Isbel and what she had done for him, and the solemn vow that he had made

to her, out of his head.



Meanwhile Burd Isbel lived on at her father's court, and because her

heart was full of faith and love, it grew light and merry again, and she

began to dance and to sing as gaily as ever.



But early one morning she woke up with a start, and there, at the foot

of her bed, stood the queerest little manikin that she had ever seen. He

was only about a foot high, and he was dressed all in russet brown, and

his face was just like a wrinkled apple.



"Who art thou?" she cried, starting up, "and what dost thou want?"



"My name is Billy Blin," said the funny old man. "I am a Brownie, and I

come from Scotland. My family all live there, and we are all very

kind-hearted, and we like to help people. But it is no time to be

talking of my affairs, for I have come to help thee. I have just been

wondering how thou couldst lie there and sleep so peacefully when this

is Young Bekie's wedding day. He is to be married at noon."



"Oh, what shall I do? what shall I do?" cried poor Burd Isbel in deep

distress. "It is a long way from France to Scotland, and I can never be

there in time."



Billie Blin waved his little hand. "I will manage it for thee," he said,

"if thou wilt only do what I tell thee. Go into thy mother's chamber as

fast as thou canst, and get two of thy mother's maids-of-honour. And,

remember, thou must be careful to see that they are both called Mary.

Then thou must dress thyself in thy most beautiful dress. Thou hast a

scarlet dress, I know, which becomes thee well, for I have seen thee

wear it. Nay, be not surprised; we Brownies can see people when they do

not see us. Put that dress on, and let thy Maries be dressed all in

green. And in thy father's treasury there are three jewelled belts, each

of them worth an earl's ransom. These thou must get, and clasp them

round thy waists, and steal down to the sea-shore, and there, on the

water, thou wilt see a beautiful Dutch boat. It will come to the shore

for thee, and thou must step in, and greet the crew with a Mystic

Greeting. Then thy part is done. I will do the rest."



The Brownie vanished, and Burd Isbel made haste to do exactly what he

had told her to do.



She ran to her mother's room, and called to two maids called Mary to

come and help her to dress. Then she put on her lovely scarlet robe, and

bade them attire themselves in green, and she took the jewelled girdles

out of the treasury, and gave one to each of them to put on; and when

they were dressed they all went down to the sea-shore.



There, on the sea, as the Brownie had promised, was a beautiful Dutch

boat, with its sails spread. It came dancing over the water to them, and

when Burd Isbel stepped on board, and greeted the sailors with a Mystic

Greeting, they turned its prow towards Scotland, and Billy Blin appeared

himself, and took the helm.



Away, away, sailed the ship, until it reached the Firth of Tay, and

there, high up among the hills, stood the Castle of Linnhe.



When Burd Isbel and her maidens went to the gate they heard beautiful

music coming from within, and their hearts sank. They rang the bell, and

the old porter appeared.



"What news, what news, old man?" cried Burd Isbel. "We have heard

rumours of a wedding here, and would fain know if they be true or no?"



"Certs, Madam, they are true," he answered; "for this very day, at noon,

the Master of this place, Young Bekie, will be married to the King of

Scotland's daughter."



Then Burd Isbel felt in her jewelled pouch, and drew out three merks.

"Take these, old man," she said, "and bid thy master speak to me at

once."



The porter did as he was bid, and went upstairs to the great hall, where

all the wedding guests were assembled. He bent low before the King, and

before the Queen, and then he knelt before his young lord.



"I have served thee these thirty and three years, Sire," he said, "but

never have I seen ladies come to the gate so richly attired as the three

who wait without at this moment. There is one of them clad in scarlet,

such scarlet as I have never seen, and two are clad in green, and they

have girdles round their waists which might well pay an earl's ransom."



When the Scottish Princess heard these words, she tossed her head

haughtily. She was tall and buxom, and she was dressed entirely in cloth

of gold.



"Lack-a-day," she said, "what a to-do about three strangers! This old

fool may think them finely dressed, but I warrant some of us here are

every whit as fine as they."



But Young Bekie sprang to his feet. He knew who it was, and the thought

of his ingratitude brought the tears to his eyes.



"I'll wager my life 'tis Burd Isbel," he cried, "who has come over the

sea to seek me."



Then he ran downstairs, and sure enough it was Burd Isbel.



He clasped her in his arms, and kissed her, and now that he had her

beside him, it seemed to him as if he had never loved anyone else.



But the wedding guests came trooping out, and when they heard the story

they shook their heads.



"A likely tale," they cried. "Who is to believe it? If she be really the

King of France's daughter, how came she here alone, save for those two

maidens?"



But some of them looked at the jewelled girdles, and held their peace.



Then Burd Isbel spoke out clearly and simply. "I rescued my love out of

prison," she said, "and gave him horse and hounds. And if the hounds

know me not, then am I proved false." So saying she raised her voice.

"Hector, Hector," she cried, and lo! the great black hound came bounding

out of its kennel, followed by its companions, and lay down fawning at

her feet, and licked them.



Then the wedding guests knew that she had told the truth, and they

turned their eyes on Young Bekie, to see what he would do. He, on his

part, was determined that he would marry Burd Isbel, let happen what

might.



"Take home your daughter again," he cried impatiently to the King, "and

my blessing go with her; for she sought me ere I sought her. This is my

own true love; I can wed no other."



"Nay," answered the King, in angry astonishment, "but this thing cannot

be. Whoever heard of a maiden being sent home unwed, when the very

wedding guests were assembled? I tell thee it cannot be."



In despair Young Bekie turned to the lady herself. "Good lack, Madam,"

he cried, "is there no one else whom thou canst marry? There is many a

better and manlier man than I, who goes seeking a wife. There, for

instance, stands my cousin John. He is taller and stronger than I, a

better fighter, and a right good man. Couldst thou not accept him for a

husband? If thou couldst, I would pay him down five hundred pounds of

good red gold on his wedding day."



A murmur of displeasure ran through the crowd of wedding guests at this

bold proposal, and the King grasped his sword in a rage. But, to

everyone's amazement, the Princess seemed neither displeased nor

daunted. She blushed rosy red, and smiled softly.



"Keep thy money to thyself, Bekie," she answered. "Thy cousin John and I

have no need of it. Neither doth he require a bribe to make him willing

to take me for his wife. To speak truth, we loved each other long ere I

set eyes on thee, and 'twas but the King, my father, who would have none

of him. Perchance by now he hath changed his mind."



So there were two weddings in the Castle of Linnhe instead of one. Young

Bekie married Burd Isbel, and his cousin John married the King's

daughter, and they "lived happy, happy, ever after."



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