The Voyage of the wee Red Cap by Ruth Sawyer Durrant. It was the
knight of Saint Stephen, and tig sat alone by his fire, with naught
in his cupboard but a pinch of tea and a bare mixing of meal,
and a heart inside of him as soft and warm as the ice on the
water bucket outside the door. The tuft was near burnt on the hearth a
handful of golden cinders left just and tig took to counting them greedily on his
fingers. There's one, two, three, and four and five, he
laughed, faith there be more bits of real gold hit under the loose clay
in the corner. It was the truth, and it was the scraping and
scrooching for the last piece that had left Tigu's copboard bare of a Christmas dinner.
Gold is better nor eaten and drinking. And if ye have naught to
give, there'll be nought as stuggy, and he laughed again. He was
thinking of the neighbors, and the doles of food and piggins of milk that
would pass over their thresholds that night, to the vagabonds and paupers who were
sure to come begging, And on the heels of that thought followed another who
would be giving Old Barney his dinner. Barney lived a stone's throw from take
alone in a wee tumbled in cabin, and for a score of years past
Tige had stood on the doorstep every Christmas Eve, and, making a hollow
of his two hands, had called across the road, Hey there, Barney,
wi ye come over for us up? And Barney had reached for his
crutches, there being but one leg to him, and had come. Faith,
said Tige, trying another laugh barneck and fast for the once twill be
all the same in a month's time, and he fell to thinking of the
gold again. A knock came at the door. Tig pulled himself down in
his chair where the shadow would cover him, and held his tongue. Tig,
Tig, it was the widow o' donnolly's voice, if ye are there,
open your door. I have not got the pay for the springing this
month, and the childer are needing food. But Tig put the leash on
his tongue and never stirred till he saw the tramp of her feet going on
to the next cabin. Then he saw to it that the door was tight
barred. Another knock came, and it was a stranger's voice. This time
the other cabins are filled, not one but has its hearth crowded. Will
ye take us in? The two of us, the wind bites mortal sharp.
Not a morsel of food have na tasted this day? Master, Will
ye take us in? But tig set on a holding his tongue, and
the tramp of the stranger's feet passed down the road. Others took their place,
small feet running. It was the miller's wee Cassie, and she called
out as she ran by, Oh, Barney's watching for ye, ye'll not
be forgetting him? Will ye take And then the child broke into a song,
sweet and clear as she passed down the road. Listen, no,
ye tis the feast of Saint Stephen. Mind that you keep it this holly,
even open your door and greet ye this stranger. For ye mind that
the wee Lord had nought but a manger. Mere artra feed ye the hungry
and resty, the weary, This ye must do for his sake of our
marry. Tis Will that ye mind, ye who sit by the fire,
that the Lord he was born in a darkened colbaire Miro asked trow Tig put
his fingers deep in his ears, a million murthering curses on them that won't
let me be. Can't a man tried to keep what it sees without being
pestered by them that has only idled and wasted in their days. And then
the strange thing happened. Hundreds and hundreds of wee lights began dancing outside the
window, making the room bright. The hands of the clock began chasing each
other round the dial, and the bolt of the door drew itself out slowly,
without a creak or a cringe. The door opened, and in there
trooped a crowd of the good people, their weak green cloak folded close about
them, and each carried a rush candle. Tige was filled with great wonderment
entirely when he saw the fairies. But when they saw him, they laughed,
we are taking the loan of your cabin this night, Tea said they,
ye art the only man hereabout with an empty hearth, and where neatn
one. Without saying more, they bustled about the room, making ready.
They lengthened out the table and spread and set it more of the good people
trooped in, bringing stools and food and drink. The pipers came last,
and they set themselves around the chimney piece a blowing their chanters and trying the
drones. The feasting began, and the pipers played, and never had Tea
seen such a sight in his life. Suddenly a wee man sang out,
clip pop, clip pop, I wish I had my wee red cap,
and out of the air there tumbled the neatest cap. Tea ever laid his
two eyes on the wee man clapt it on his head, crying, I
wish I was in Spain, and whisked up the chimney he went, and
away out of sight. It happened just as I'm telling it. Another wee
man called for his cap, and away he went after the first, and
then another and another, until the room was empty, and Tek sat alone
again. Buy my soul, said Tig, I'd like to travel that way
myself. It's a grand saving of tickets and baggage, and ye get to
a place before ye've had time to change yer mind. Faith, there is
no harm done if I'd thry it. So he sang the fairies rhyme,
and out of the air dropped a wee cap for him. For a moment
the wonder had him, but the next he was clapping the cap on his
head and crying Spain. Then weist up the chimney. He went after the
fairies, and before he had time to let out his breath, he was
standing in the middle of spain and strangeness all about him. He was in
a great city. The doorways of the houses were hung with flowers, and
the air was warm and sweet with the smell of them. Torches burned along
the streets. Sweetmeat cellars went about crying their wares, and on the steps
of the cathedral crouched a crowd of beggars. What's the meaning all that,
asked he of one of the fairies. They are waiting for those that are
hearing mass. When they come out, they give half of what they have
to those that have nothing. So on this night, all of the year,
there shall be no hunger and cold. And then far down the street
came the sound of a child's voice, singing, Listen, all ye tis
the fiesta, saints, devon, mind that you keep it this holy even
carrosit said teg can a song fly after? Are he and then he heard
the fairies cry Holland, and cried Holland too. In one leap he was
over Frantz, and another over Belgium, and with the third he was standing
by long ditches of water frozen fast, and over them glided hundreds upon hundreds
of lads and maids. Outside each door stood a wee wooden shoe, empty
tikesaw, scores of them. As he looked down the ditch of a street.
What is the meaning of the shoes, he asked the fairies. Ye
poor lad, answered the wee man next to him. Are ye not knowing
anything? This is the gift knight of the year, when every man gives
to his neighbor. A child came to the window of one of the houses,
and in her hand was a lighted candle. She was singing as she
put the light down close to the glass, and Tige caught the words open
your door and greet ye the stranger. For ye mind that the wee lord
had not but a manger. Mihur etro tis the Dedl's work, cried Tig,
and he set the red cap more firmly on his head. I'm for
another country. I cannot be telling you, Ahulf of the adventures Teag had
that night, nor half the sights that he saw. But he passed by
fields that held sheaves of grain for the birds, and door steps that held
bowls of porridge for the wee creatures. He saw lighted trees sparkling and heavy
with gifts, and he stood outside the churches and watched the crowds pass in
bearing gifts to the Holy Mother and Child. At last, the fairies straightened
their caps and cried now for the Great Hall in the King of England's palace.
Whist and away they went, and Teague after them, And the first
thing he knew he was in London, not an arm's length from the King's
throne. It was a grander sight than he had seen in any other country.
The all was filled entirely with lords and ladies, and the great doors
were opened for the poor and the homeless to come in and warm themselves by
the King's fire and feast from the king's table. And many a hungry soul
did the King serve with his own hands. Those that had anything to give
gave it in return. It might be a bit of music played on a
harp or a pipe, or it might be a dance or a song,
but more often it was a wish, just for good luck and safe keeping.
Tea was so taken up with the watching that he never heard the fairies
when they wished themselves on. Moreover, he never saw the wee girl that
was fed and went laughing away, but he heard a bit of her song
as she passed through the door. Faid ye, the hungry and rusty,
the weary, this ye must do for the sake of our marry. Then
the anger had Tea, I'll stop your pestering tongue once on the foot all
time, and catching the cap from his head, he threw it after her.
No sooner was the cap gone than every soul in the hall saw him.
The next moment they were about him, catching at his coat and crying,
where is he from? What does he hear? Bring him before the
king, and tag was dragged along by a hundred hands to the throne where
the king sat. He was stealing food, cried one, he was robbing
the king's jewels, cried another, he looks evil, cried a third.
Kill him, And in a moment all the voices took it up, and
the hall rang with aye, kill him, kill him. Tig's legs took
to trembling, and Fear put the leash on his tongue. But after a
long silence, he managed to whisper, I have done evil to no one,
no one, maybe, said the king. But have ye done good?
Come? Tell us have ye given aught to any one this night?
If ye have, we will pardon ye. Not a word could Tig say.
Fear tightened the leash, for he was knowing full well there was no
good to him that night. Then you must die, said the king.
Will ye try hanging or beheading? Hanging? Please, your majesty, said
Tigue. The guards came rushing up and carried him off, but as he
was crossing the threshold of the hall, a thought sprang at him and held
him Your majesty, he called after him, Will ye grant me a last
request? I will, said the king. Thank ye. There's a wee
red cap that I'm mortal fond of, and I've lost it a while ago.
If I could be hung with it on, I would hang a deal
more comfortable. The cap was found and brought to Tege. Clip clap,
clip clap for my wee red cap. I wish I was home, He
sang up and over the heads of the dumbfounded guard. He flew and whist
and away out of sight. When he opened his eyes again, he was
sitting close by his own hearth, with a fire burnt low. The hands
of the clock were still, the bolt was fixed firm in the door.
The fairy's lights were gone, and the only bright thing was the candle burning
in Old Barney's cabin across the road. A running of feet sounded outside,
and then the snatch of a song. Tis will that ye mind, ye
who sit by the fire, that the Lord he was born in a dark
and cold byre mere, I'll wait ye, whoever ye are. And Tea
was away to the corner, digging fast at the loose clay as a terrier
digs at a bone. He filled his hands full of the shining gold,
then hurried to the door, unbarring it. The miller's wee Cassie stood there
peering at him out of the darkness. Take these to the widow, O'Donnelly,
do ye hear, and take the rest to the store. Ye tell
Jamie to bring up all that he has that is eatable and drinkable, And
to the neighbors, ye say, Tig's keepin the feasts this night. Hurry
now, Tig stopped a moment on the threshold until the tramp of her feet
had died away. Then he made a hollow of his two hands, and
called across the road, Hey there, Barney, will ye come over?
For a sup end of the Voyage of the wee Red Cap by Ruth Sawyer Durrant