Sir Michael Scott
Sir Michael Scott of Balwearie was the greatest magician, or, as some say, sorcerer, that Scotland had ever known.It is said that his loyal servants were spirits from the underworld, and that one of them was gifted to Scott by Satan himself in exchange for his shadow. From that day on, Sir Michael indeed ceased to cast a shadow.
Even Sir Michael's black steed was no ordinary horse, but a magical one.
It once happened that King Alexander III of Scotland sent Sir Michael to the court of the French king on an important mission: to secure certain concessions that the French king was unwilling to grant.
"I would advise Your Majesty to reconsider your demands," Sir Michael sternly told the French king.
But the French king knew nothing of Sir Michael Scott's great power and was not the least bit frightened by the threat in his voice. He merely shook his head.
"I give you a few minutes to think it over, until my black horse strikes its hoof three times at the gates of your castle," said Sir Michael.
The king and his courtiers burst out laughing at the words of this foreign upstart. However, their laughter was drowned out by a loud echo—it was Sir Michael's black horse striking its hoof against the stone pavement before the castle gates.
And immediately, bells began to ring across all of France. Large bells boomed loudly, while small ones chimed delicately. Honest folk, awakened by the ringing, leaped from their beds, highway robbers hid themselves away, and revelers, who had not yet sipped their wine, froze with goblets in hand. Even birds fell from their nests. All conversation in the country ceased: it was impossible to hear a single word amidst the ringing and clamor.
The bells stopped ringing only when Sir Michael's black horse struck its hoof against the stone pavement a second time.
At the second strike, the high towers of the royal castle crumbled.
"Enough!" cried the king. "I have changed my mind! Tell your master that I agree to everything."
In response, Sir Michael bowed low to the French king, hiding the triumphant smile on his lips.
Needless to say, King Alexander had every reason to be a thousand times grateful to his envoy.
In general, it was better not to anger Sir Michael Scott. He knew how to bring great trouble to those who displeased or angered him, as one farmer's wife once learned the hard way.
It happened that while hunting in the forest, Sir Michael suddenly felt a strong hunger and, seeing a farmer's hut not far off, sent his servant to ask for a piece of bread.
The servant knocked on the door, and when the mistress opened it, he asked her for a slice of bread for his master.
"I have no bread," the farmer's wife replied rudely. The servant sniffed and clearly caught the scent of fresh bread, and peeking inside, he saw a blazing hearth and iron pans where bread was baking.
With this, he returned to Sir Michael.
"The mistress says she has no bread," he reported, "but she is lying. When she opened the door, I immediately smelled fresh bread."
Sir Michael Scott was greatly angered by this news. He pulled a knucklebone, or, as it is called in those parts, a "devil's finger," from his pocket and ordered his servant to return to the hut and secretly hide the object in a crack above the doorframe.
No sooner had the servant carried out his master's order than the magical spell began to take effect. Just at that moment, the farmer's wife bent over the hearth to remove the last loaves of bread from the fire, and suddenly, for no reason at all, she felt an overwhelming urge to dance. She spun around the kitchen, stomping and waving her arms, all the while singing:
"What the servant of Sir Michael came with,
He left with, he left with..."
Meanwhile, the farmer had been working in the fields since morning. He wondered why his wife was taking so long to bring him his meal. It was the hottest time of the year—harvest season—and the farmer was tired and hungry. His assistant's daughter had long since brought him a jug of beer and bread, but his wife still had not come. So the farmer asked the girl to stop by his wife on her way home and remind her about the meal.
The girl returned to the village and knocked on the door of the farmer's hut, but no one answered, though she could hear noise and stomping inside. Apparently, the farmer's wife was in high spirits, as she was singing cheerfully at the top of her lungs.
"Listen, mistress!" the girl shouted. "Your husband wants to know if you've forgotten about his meal. He told you to bring it to the field quickly!"
The noise and singing in the hut continued, but the girl received no reply. So she opened the door herself and stepped into the kitchen. No sooner had she crossed the threshold than she, too, was overcome with the desire to dance, and she joined the farmer's wife in a lively Scottish fling.
An hour passed, but neither the girl with any news nor the wife with the meal appeared, so the farmer decided to go and see what was going on. Approaching the house, he did not enter the kitchen immediately but first looked through the window.
What did he see?
His wife and the girl were dancing around the kitchen like madwomen.
"Stop fooling around!" the farmer shouted. "Where is my meal? This is no time for merriment."
In frustration, he flung open the door and stepped into the kitchen. But before he knew it, he was dancing alongside the two women, trying to keep up with them and not lose the rhythm. Thus, instead of a solo and then a duet, a lively trio was now dancing in the hut.
The inhospitable farmer's wife, her voice hoarse, continued to sing:
"What the servant of Sir Michael came with,
He left with, he left with..."
Sir Michael Scott spent the entire day hunting in the forest, and as dusk fell, his servant reminded him:
"I wonder how she's dancing, that farmer's wife?"
"You must mean how *they* are dancing, that delightful trio?" Sir Michael corrected him, for he had his own way of knowing what was happening. "Well, I think she's had enough. Now you can go back and remove the devil's finger from above the doorframe."
The servant did exactly as he was told, pulling the devil's finger from above the doorframe, and the dancing trio immediately collapsed to the floor, exhausted, and slept—some say for seven days, others for a full week.
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