Princess Mary and King Haakon. Part 2, Finandus of Skye

On the Isle of Skye, there lived a clan of people called the MacKinnons. The MacKinnons were a quiet folk who lived around the part of the island closest to Scotland, where the narrow waters of the Kyle edge between these two ancient lands. They kept themselves to themselves and spent most of their time fishing in the Kyle and hunting in the great forest of Sleat.  There was one MacKinnon, a young man called Findanus, who was not content to live out his life in this quiet, green corner of Skye. Findanus, or Fin to his friends, was the chief of the Clan MacKinnon. He was tall and strong with long red hair and a big red beard, tied into three pig-tails. There was nothing Fin enjoyed more than travelling and seeing the world and this is how our story begins, with Fin journeying to the far off land of Norway.

Fin was going to meet King Haakon, a great Viking king, and to take part in the strongman contest held every year in Norway. It was here that he met and fell in love with Princess Mary, the daughter of King Haakon. She was now a bonny girl with long golden hair and blue eyes, but it was here wits that truly set her apart. Mary was a clever lass who had outfoxed the greatest of her town’s men folk on many an occasion and could beat anyone who dared to challenge her at chess.

Mary was but sixteen summers old when Fin first saw her. As he pulled his boat up onto the beach in front of King Haakon’s village, the great Viking already running down the sands to meet him, from out of the longhouse stepped Mary. Haakon flew to Fin and hugged him. Fin was caught, not just by the strong arms of the King, but by the beauty of Mary, who stood at the top of the beach pulling him like a deep, strong current. “Beauty is yours. But for a price.” He sighed.

With those words, first spoken in a dream and long since forgotten, King Haakon shuddered like the thunder, shuddered like the thunder on the night of Mary’s birth, the night of the dream. He remembered now the words the stranger in the dream had spoken and he knew that Mary would leave with this man, Findanus MacKinnon.

The next day marked the beginning of the strongman contest. For Fin this contest now meant nothing, he no longer cared about winning the prize of gold, love was the prize he valued now. The love of Princess Mary. Without really trying, Fin won all his contests. He threw an anchor and chain farther than any man, farther even than Thor ‘keelbreaker’ Dahl who had once stopped an escaping pirate ship by sinking it with an anchor he had thrown. No one could drag a boat up the beach faster than him, not even Morten Brohlin the giant of Lapland. And of all the men present, Fin could chop down trees the fastest, faster even than Siggy Heddle, the man who had once wrestled a walrus for a bet and won. No, none of these heroes, not one of these fine Norsemen could best Findanus, chief of the clan MacKinnon. He was the winner!

It was the custom for the winner of the contest to be given any item of his choosing from the household treasure of the King. That evening all the strongmen crushed into the longhouse to drink, eat and to see the winner pick his prize. This was a male only event and had been known to boil over into a wrestling match. As well as fighting there was always lots of gossip and plenty of gambling about the final choice of prize the champion would make. Last year Siggy Heddle had claimed the golden shield from the King’s wall. The year before a bald Siberian called Biakal shocked the gathering by making off with the ring from King Haakon’s finger! It had taken all night, plenty of whale fat and a little bit of blood before the ring had come off. The Siberian was not invited back.

King Haakon enjoyed the company of men and on this occasion he was glad that Mary could not attend. She had the spirit of a warrior and often tagged along on hunting trips, or turned up at the back of the great council of elders telling them they were all old fools who needed to change their ways. He knew there would be nothing she would enjoy more than to watch the prize giving. But tonight Mary was a prize the King feared he was close to loosing; a golden treasure too precious to risk.

That night in the longhouse the men gathered as they had done for countless years. King Haakon finished his speech and invited the new champion to rise and claim his prize. King Haakon had reminded the crowd about the story of his ring and the Siberian and stressed he would not, could not refuse any request the winner made. He could have any of his golden treasures in the hall. The roaring of the strongmen quickly hushed as Fin rose to his feet. His eyes moved around the room. He saw the helmet of the Angles, his gaze rested on the chain armour which Caesar was said to have worn, his eye lingered on the Saxon sword. He paused, then in a strong clear voice he pointed to the door at the corner of the hall and said “I claim my prize, I claim the King’s greatest treasure as my own!” Every eye flew like an arrow from the end of Fin’s finger to door. There they struck a shadow. With the hall in silence the shadow melted as Mary stepped forward into the light. King Haakon slumped into his seat as the tears began to roll from his eyes. His greatest treasure, his greatest loss.

Fin and Mary were married on the windswept Norwegian beach at dawn the next day then set off for their new home together on the Isle of Skye. They waved at the shrinking figures on the horizon until they were all gone. Mary wept for the rest of the journey and sang sad songs about leaving her home and family. When they finally arrived in Skye, Chief MacKinnon carried the exhausted Princess wrapped in  wolf skins, from the boat, up to the bed-chamber at the top of Castle Moil, and there they lay alone and undisturbed for six whole days.

Princess Mary and King Haakon. Part 1, Birth

In the land of Norway there lived a king. He was a great king, loved by his kin and feared by his enemies. He was Haakon. Amongst Norsemen he had no equal. No man could beat him at wrestling, no man could drink like him and no man was a better hunter. He was admired and loved but he was unhappy. He was unhappy for he had no son. King Haakon and his wife had been married for nearly twenty years but had never borne a child.

So the news that King Haakon’s wife had fallen pregnant was greeted with great joy. The next nine months were a time of dreaming and imagining for the proud parents in waiting and finally the time came when the child could wait no longer…

The agony of childbirth was drowned by the thunder that crashed across the dark waters outside King Haakon’s long house. Haakon sat by his wife as she laboured, gently blowing on her sweating brow. She yelled again just as the door burst open. In from the storm blew a young hunter. “Eric is missing on the mountain!” he spat through his sopping wet beard. “We need your help, we need all the men we can get.” Haakon looked at the young man and then looked at his wife.

“Go to him.” She whispered. Haakon grabbed his cloak and ran out into the night.

On the mountain it was dark and the rain made climbing dangerous. The men moved on, their faces illuminated by the lightning, frozen like the carved wooden animals on the walls of the long house. Eventually they found the young boy, cold, wet and very pleased to see his friends. He had twisted his leg between two rocks and could not walk. He would need to be carried off the mountain. But with every moment that passed the storm became more terrible, until the men were sure that Thor himself was walking on the peaks above them! “It is too dangerous to carry on.” shouted Haakon over the thunder. “We must take shelter and wait ‘till morning.”

“But Haakon, your wife? The child?” protested one of the men.

“No, we cannot go on. We must find shelter.” Replied the king. Slowly the men staggered into the shelter of a shallow cave and huddled down under their sodden cloaks.

Now in that long, cold, wet night Haakon had a dream. He was standing on the shore outside his long house, a baby in his arms. As he looked up from the child’s face he saw a ship drawing up to the beach. Out of the ship stepped a man. The man walked up the beach and stood in front of the king. Leaning over he looked at the baby and drawing himself close to Haakon he whispered, “Beauty is yours. But for a price.” With those soft words Haakon was suddenly awake. The storm was still raging around them but now he knew he had to be with his wife, he knew this was no ordinary night.

He ran and ran, down the mountain, slipping and stumbling until he burst out of the forest and onto the beach. He was sure he could hear his wife calling him over the thunder. Crashing into the house Haakon knew all was not well. The other women turned away and busied themselves, only one met his eyes and stepping forward she said. “My king. You have a child. A girl!” Taking the baby in his arms he moved towards his wife but the woman touched him on the arm as he passed, causing him to stop. “The child was strong my king, too strong. Your wife is dead.”

With tears in his eyes the old king turned away and stepped out through the door into the dark, stormy night. Drawing the child under his cloak to keep her dry, he walked out onto the beach. Looking out over the dark waters he remembered his dream and the man who whispered those words to him. “You have a great future my child, but a future that I fear is not on these shores.” The great king said to his daughter. “But we will wait my Princess. Yes, we will wait. We will wait and see what the future holds for you Princess. Princess Mary!”

Teaching tales, tall and true.

28/09/06 The day ended before it began. Second lesson the deputy came into my room and told me that A was walking around hitting things with a table leg he had pulled off. I walk through to find him banging chairs and walls with this 3 foot long metal table leg. Metal leg+angry young man=brain damaged tutor. We managed to clear the other students out of the unit so as to deprive the oxygen of an audience then proceeded to try and talk him down. He wasn't so much being dangerous but had the potential to do great damage if we tried to physically stop him. After much talk a first aid kit appeared and was handed to him. This seemed to break the moment as he placed it and the leg on the table and started to rummage through the box (passing over the scissors I was releaved to see!) At this moment I approached him and got involved in his doctors and nurses game. When we were both fully into our 'roles', I gently moved the table leg away then whisked it upstairs to the office and hid it under my desk. Panic over.

It was then felt that the atmosphere was too volatile to continue so we faked a call from council central office saying we needed to send to members of staff up there as there had been some emergency! We told them we needed to close the unit and they could all go home. They bought it (mostly) and went off to explore the limits of their ASBOs.

Nobody was hurt, we all left on good terms. Result.

 02/10/06  Unit closed today. Bomb scare! Taken very seriously by the police who arrived with several cars and sealed off the road. Then to everyone's horror/amusement the sniffer dogs arrived and, well... sniffed for a bomb. No such device was found but all the Keyskills folders were destroyed in a controlled explosion. If only.
It seems an arrest has been made. The sinister bomber was not 'fit for purpose' and did not block their telephone number when issuing the threat. Back to the Afghanistan training camp for you my boy. 

17/10/06 Crazy day today. General atmosphere of excitability and chaos. Not ideal. Two main events. Firstly one student, ‘the most dangerous and unpredictable kid in the service’ finally showed his cards by completely losing his rag and smashing my classroom door off its hinges! He was convinced some other lads were laughing at him and went from joking around with myself and another member of staff to throwing chairs and smashing the door. I persuaded him to go outside for a fag (usual fall-back position in times of crisis). He went down and eventually calmed down, finally taking on board the explanation that the lads were not laughing at him but a teacher.

At the end of the day we had a full blown temper tantrum that would not have been out of place in the sweetie isle at TESCOs. Young lad wanted a taxi home but it was denied. He tried again and again but we kept on saying that he had a bus pass and that he had managed to get into and home from school no problem before today. No. He kicks off, karate kicking the wheelie bin, running in and out of the building, swearing at anyone that he meets and generally acting lick a little twit. At one point he even ran down the road and kicked over some traffic cones and a ‘Road Closed’ sign. The work men looked at him as if he was a total nutter. ‘It’s okay mate, he’s with me!’

 18/10/06 Very quiet today, not too surprising given yesterday’s antics.  A couple of the boys are in court today for various crimes and misdemeanors so it was always going to be a few light. In the end we only got two in. Both worked pretty well and as a result not much of note happened. We were meant to be  going to the fire station to do a road traffic safety session but due to the small numbers it was cancelled. Shame.

19/10/06 The taxi boys were back today but had all calmed down as if nothing had ever happened. The lad who was excluded for 10 days following the incident with the table leg was also back! He was a handful again, snapping coat hangers (don’t ask), talking fire extinguishers out and finally pulling the door off the I.T. room. This led to fun and games later when I managed to get myself locked in the I.T. room with a new student who had come to us straight from H.M.P. (aggravated burglary). The connecting bolt between the inside handle (intact) and the outside handle (removed) had gone astray and as a result the handle was no longer fit for purpose. Fortunately I managed to discreetly attract the attention of a colleague who released me with a soup spoon.

20/10/06 Only one lad in today so I got him to glue the legs onto the tables. The ones we were all worried might be used as weapons again. We used some kind of epoxy space shuttle glue that came in a double syringe and needed to be mixed. Hard core. He moaned and cussed but actually quite enjoyed the one to one time. It is good to do non-classroom stuff. In carrying out this activity and subsequently talking it through with another member of staff, this lad got two level 1 qualifications in one go.

It is the last day before we break up for half term. A feeling of quiet unease fills the unit. It is calm, but there is a storm coming…

28/11/06 Today I was chatting with a boy who blurted out this story about how he found 6 grand in a phone box. He explained that his mum was loosing the plot because they had no money and had made a loaf of bread last a week. He went out to see what he could do (presumably a touch) and there it was, sitting in a phone box, £6000! Gypsy money he said. "Did you ever think of taking it to the police?" I ventured, more in hope than in expectation, "F**k that!" he replied, "We went straight into town and bought one of those f**k-off big plasma screen TVs!" And presumably a fresh loaf of bread.

  

Princess Mary and Grampus the Black

Many travelers pass through the waters of the Kyle, that slab of dark water that presses itself between the Isle of Skye and the mainland. Many travelers pass and most are welcome but there is one sea-going wanderer that is not. He does not pass often on this route but when he does he is not welcome. He is Grampus the black.

          Princess Mary first met Grampus as a child in her homeland of Norway. It was then, as a child of six that she saw his cunning and his malice towards man. Fishing with a friend, a boy of some twelve years, they had drifted a little farther from shore than might have been wise. Perhaps it was foolish for the boy to have been standing as he put the bait on his hook, but it was a calm day and the little boat sat like a reflection on the smooth fjord.

Mary had seen a black wave rise from the icy water, the boat had rocked and the boy had fallen in. He was only a few feet from the boat but Grampus the Black rose up out of the water between them, glistening like wet leather, blocking the boy’s escape. Slowly and ever so gently, the great black beast nudged the boy farther and farther from the boat. When they were some way away he disappeared and the boy began his journey back. It was cold and the boy was tiring. Then, with just a few feet for the gasping boy left to swim, Grampus appeared between them again. Once more he pushed and nudged the boy away from the boat, once more he disappeared. The game repeated itself two or three more times, each time creature thwarting the boy as he reached for out for the boat, each time pushing the boy away and then disappearing. Finally the boy became too weak to make the journey back. Drained by the cold he too disappeared.

Mary, though little, managed to row back to shore and tell of what she had seen. Out in the bay Grampus roamed back and forth for the rest of the day, triumphantly spraying from his blowhole and leaping from the water. In the morning the body of the boy was found, unmarked, and Grampus the Black had gone.

Many years had past since that day and many things had changed but the memory of the Grampus stayed with Mary. Sometimes as she rowed out to collect the toll from the passing ships she would start as a black shape moved in the water. Memories would stir and the image of the black beast would rise to the surface. But the shape was never more than a shoal of fish or a  smooth dark swell. 

'Lazarus, come out'

I was watching a video on YouTube the other day by a preacher called RW Glenn. He was talking about a thing called ‘irresistible grace’. I had never heard it before but when he started explaining what it meant it made me start to giggle. I was laughing like a little kid because it was the first time someone had described what had happened to me when I became a Christian.

When people talk about their conversion they often point to a specific sermon, or bible passage, song or even words on a plastic carrier bag (that’s another story). For me I can remember very little of what was said, sung and sold.

What I do know was that I was an atheist at a Billy Graham rally! I am aware that I listened to an old american guy who talked about sin and God and hell. I had heard all that before. This time it was different. It was like being in a movie where suddenly it goes silent. It is silent but you can still see everyone else moving their mouths but no sound is coming out. It felt to me as if I was inside a bubble. Into that bubble came a voice saying one word.

JASON.

My name. The voice just said my name in a calm, gentle way, like someone trying to wake me from sleep. Calm but with purpose. It is totally weird but it was like I knew the voice, had heard it all my life in the background ‘noise’ of the world, had sensed it whispering to me in answer to my questions.

This was my moment of irresistible grace. I knew this voice was the voice of the one true God. What else could I do? I woke up, got out of my chair and was born again.

Princess Mary and the Great Storm

One day on the Isle of Skye, Princess Mary was going about her usual business of collecting tolls from the ships and boats passing up down the Kyle. She and Chief MacKinnon had placed a large, heavy chain across the narrow stretch of water which could be lowered by a large winch to allow the ships to pass.

Now this business was a good business and made the Clan MacKinnon a lot of money. Every time someone wished to pass they would call out to Mary in the castle and she would row out in her little boat (for she was the best rower on the island) and collect a single piece of silver from the captain. When she had the money she would blow her cow horn trumpet and Chief MacKinnon would lower the chain below the water and let the ship pass.

If this sounds a little unfair, taking money just to let people sail up the Kyle to the outer isles, then think again. Mary’s chain meant that she could stop pirates and brigands from entering the quiet waters of these parts. Most of the local captains saw Mary’s chain as an excellent way of keeping them safe from danger. During darker times a fleet of ships carrying an invading army bound for Dunvegan was stopped at the chain and had to take the more dangerous route north through the stormy Minch. As this fleet was passing Elgol, in the shadow of the Cullin mountains, a great storm blew up and scattered them to the edge of the world or even further. Some ended up on Uist!

Storms were regular things in these lands and on these seas and on this day Mary could see a storm coming from the west. As darkness was falling the waves were rising and rowing back from the last toll collection of the day, Mary had difficulty in making the shore below castle Moil. Chief MacKinnon pulled up the chain as the ship rolled up the Kyle. “Don’t worry your big ginger head my chief.” said Mary to Chief MacKinnon seeing the concerned look on his face. “They are bound for Broadford and shall be in their bunks before the rain wets their sails.”

“Then we shall do the same Mary” he replied. The two then hurried inside before the wind chilled them too much. In the distance the ship disappeared into the gathering storm, her captain relieved to be just a few miles from home.

Now the ways of the sea are a knowledge held by many but understood by few. On this night of all nights one man and his family had found wanting in their understanding of the sea. Leaving late from Eilan Donan, the weather had slowed their progress, leaving them short of the home in Kyleakin by the time darkness fell. To make matters worse the storm was now blowing the sea into waves the size of drumlins and dancing on their tops were white horses which threatened to come crashing down into the small boat. 

Mary woke with a start. The storm had blown the shutter of her bedroom window open and it was banging in the wind. As she was closing it she caught sight of a small light out in the middle of the Kyle. It was a boat and it looked like it was sinking. Mary rushed down to the shore, and dressed only in her night dress, leaped into her little boat and began to row furiously towards the stricken vessel. The waves were like black, oily hills now in the darkness of the night, the white horses had turned into great black bulls and their horns were smashing into Mary and her boat! Only by sheer determination did she make it to the stricken boat. “Are you a spirit of the water come to drown us?” cried the man on board the boat as he saw Mary appear alongside, her white nightgown stuck to her body and her yellow hair blowing wildly in the gale. “Have mercy on me and my family, the boat will stay afloat no more!”

“I am no more a spirit than you are a fish!” replied Mary “And unless your children have gills then I suggest you get them into my boat quickly.”

“But your boat is so small and we are so many.” said the man turning to his family who were clinging to the broken mast, knee-deep in the cold black water. Mary looked into the frightened eyes of three small children and their mother who was clutching a bundle that wailed louder than the wind. The boat was sinking fast and with every second that passed their chances of getting back to shore was fading. Mary thought quickly and realised what needed to be done.

“I shall stay with your vessel and you shall row my boat and your loved ones to safety, there is not enough room for us all.” Mary shouted. “Now quickly, before it is too late. Return for me when your kin are safe.” The man set off toward the shore with his family and Mary watched as he struggled towards the shore and to safety. Around her the waves were washing over the boat and only the mast was still visible above the water. Just when she thought no hope was left she heard a noise above the roar of the storm. Gentle and distant at first but drawing closer, “Mary….Mary….Mary my love, I am coming.” Through the mist and spray came Chief MacKinnon, rowing furiously in his boat. Pulling quickly alongside he grabbed Mary by the arm and pulled her on board just as a huge wave crashed down on the sinking ship to send it to the bottom.

The next day when all was calm and everyone was well slept, Chief MacKinnon explained how he had found Mary’s bed empty and gone to investigate. On the shore he found the soaking, half-drowned family who spoke of a water spirit with yellow hair who had rescued them from death. Chief MacKinnon new this had to be his Mary and set out with to find her, and find her he did, just in the nick of time!

“When we first saw you, you looked so pale and white I though you were dead,” said the Chief, “but you are strong Mary and I knew the waves could not take you from me.”

“Nothing can take me from you, my Chief,” replied Mary, “for together we are stronger than the sea herself.”

The End

Strawberry blond afghan coat

Two things you never see these days; Afghan hounds and Afghan coats. Is it the war on terror? Is it fashion? Maybe it is just one of those tricks the memory plays, letting you think powerful events from your past were ubiquitous or represented the norm. So either my memories of these two Afghan items are artifacts of my mind or indeed they were very common in 1970s Fife.

The lad down the road from me on Main Street had two Afghan hounds. The three of them seemed to be everywhere. I guess because I lived opposite the park I saw them a lot, coming and going. He would take his dogs up the fields at the back of the park and onto the hill towards Blythe's tower.

He must have been in his mid teens and seemed the kind of kid everyone described as 'a guid lad'. That meant he wasn't a punk or a homosexual and didn't sniff glue. People would see him walking his dogs up the road to the park and say, "Aye there goes Jimmy and his dugs. He's a guid lad". I never actually spoke to him and didn't actually know him but he is a figure of legend in my memory.

One hot summer day I remember a kind of kerfuffle, an atmosphere. Something was amiss. Voices were calling out and people were gasping. I looked up over my front gate and there was Jimmy wearing what looked like a strawberry blond Afghan coat. Strange for the time of year. His flooding tears were also a bit of a signpost towards the drama that was unfolding in front of our eyes. His coat was in fact his dead dogs, lying limp and lifeless, slung across his shoulders. Stained with blood their long golden coats had become a matted bloody mess. Jimmy walked across the road in front of my house crying his heart out as he carried his dead dogs home. It seems the hounds had got too close to some sheep up on the hill and the farmer had shot them both dead. 

From that point on, if you were to fast-forward through the rest of the DVD of my life, Jimmy had gone. No further appearances, no honourable mentions, no late cameo at a football match ten years latter. No, he was gone, not even to be found as sone long forgotten 'deleted scene' in the extras menu of my memory.