Speaker 1: 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.
Speaker 2: 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.
Speaker 1: 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