Chapter XXXVII Jamie Telfer of the Fair Dodhead
“’Tis I, Jamie Telfer, of the fair Dodhead,
And a harried man I think I be!
There’s nothing left at the fair Dodhead
But a woeful wife and bairnies three!”
About Martinmas time, when Border steeds get corn and hay, the Captain of Bewcastle rode over to Tividale to forage. And first he met a guide high up in Hardhaughswire, and next he met a guide low down in Borthwick water.
“What tidings, what tidings, my trusty guide?” “No tidings have I—yet if ye go to the fair Dodhead, I’ll let ye see many a cow’s calf.” Right hastily they came to the fair Dodhead, loosed the cows and ransacked the house.
Jamie Telfer’s12 heart was sore when he saw this, and the tears ran down his cheeks, and he pleaded with the Captain to give him back his gear, or else he would have revenge upon him. But the Captain only laughed and said, “Man, there’s nothing in thy house but an old sword without a sheath that could scarcely kill a mouse.”
The sun was not up though the moon had gone down, and there was a sprinkling of new-fallen snow upon the ground when Jamie Telfer ran ten miles a-foot between the Dodhead and Stob’s Hall. When he came to the tower gate he shouted aloud, and old Gibby Elliot came out and asked the meaning of such disturbance.
“It is I, Jamie Telfer, of the fair Dodhead, and a harried man am I, for nothing is left at fair Dodhead but a sad wife and three bairnies.”
“Go and seek help at Branksome Hall, for ye shall get none from me—seek help where ye paid blackmail, for, man, never did ye pay me any.”
James turned him about, his eyes blinded with tears. “Never shall I pay blackmail again to Elliot. My hounds may all run masterless, my hawks may fly as they will from tree to tree, and my lord may seize the lands of his vassal, for never shall I see again the fair Dodhead.”
He turned him to Tiviotside and made as fast as he could for Coultart cleugh, and there he shouted aloud until out came old Jock Grieve, and asked who it was that made such a noise.
“It is I, Jamie Telfer, of the fair Dodhead, and a harried man am I, for nothing is left at fair Dodhead but a weeping wife and three bairnies, and six poor calves stand in the stall crying aloud for their mothers.”
“Alack!” quoth Jock Grieve, “alack, my heart is sore for thee! for I married the eldest of three sisters, and you married the youngest.”
So he took out his bonny black horse, right well fed with corn and hay, and set Jamie Telfer on his back, to take his troubles to Catslockhill. When he came to Catslockhill he shouted aloud until out came William’s Wat to ask what was the matter.
“It is I, Jamie Telfer, of the fair Dodhead, and a harried man am I. The Captain of Bewcastle has driven away my gear; for God’s sake rise and help me.”
“Alas and alack,” quoth William’s Wat, “my heart is sore for thee. Never did I yet come to the fair Dodhead and found thy basket bare.”
He set his two sons on coal-black steeds, and he himself mounted a freckled grey, and with Jamie they rode to Branksome Hall, where they shouted so loud and high that old Buccleuch came out to ask what was the matter.
“It is I, Jamie Telfer, of the fair Dodhead, and a harried man am I; there is nought left at fair Dodhead but a weeping wife and three bairnies.”
“Alack,” quoth the good old lord, “my heart is sorry for thee; go call Willie, my son, to come speedily. Go call up hastily the men that live by the waterside. They who will not ride for Telfer’s cattle, let them never again look me in the face. Call up Wat o’Harden and his sons, call up Borthwick Water, Gaudilands and Allanhaugh, call Gilmanscleugh and Commonside; ride by the gate at Priesthaughswire and call the Currors of the Lee, and call brave Willie of Gorrinberry as ye come down the Hermitage slack.”
So the Scotts rode and ran bravely and steadily, shouting “Ride for Branksome,” and when Willie looked ahead he saw the cattle being driven fast up the Frostylee brook, and to the plain.
“Who drives yon cattle?” cried Willie Scott, “to make us a laughing stock?” “’Tis I, the Captain of Bewcastle; I will not hide my name from thee.”
“Let Telfer’s cattle go back, or by the faith of my body,” said Willie, “I’ll ware my dame’s calf-skin on thee.”
“I will not let the cattle go back neither for thy love nor fear; I will drive Jamie Telfer’s cattle in spite of all your company of Scotts.”
“Set on them, lads!” cried Willie; “set on them cruelly; there will be many an empty saddle before they come to Ritterford.”
So they set to with heart and hand, and blows fell like hail until many were slain and many a horse ran masterless. But Willie was struck by a sword through the headpiece and fell to the ground, and auld Wat of Harden wept for rage when he saw that his son was slain. He took off his steel cap and waved it thrice, and the snow on the Dinlay mountain was never whiter than the locks of his hair.
“Revenge! revenge!” he cried; “lay on them, lads. Willie’s death shall be revenged or we will never see Teviotside again.”
The lances flew into splinters, and many another brave rider fell, and before the Kershope ford was reached, the Scots had got the victory. John of Brigham was slain, and John of Barlow, and thirty more of the Captain’s men lay bleeding on the ground. The Captain himself was run through the right thigh and the bone broken, and never would woman love him again, if he should live a hundred years.
“Take back the kye!” said he; “they are dear kye to some of us; never will a fair lady smile on me if I should live to be a hundred.”
Word came to the Captain’s bride in her bower, that her lord had been taken prisoner. “I would rather have had a winding-sheet,” said she, “and helped to put it over his head than that he should have been disgraced by the Border Scot when he led his men over Liddel.”
There was a wild gallant there named Watty Wudspurs (Madspurs) who cried, “Let us on to his house in Stanegirthside, if any man will ride with us!”
So they came to Stanegirthside, pulled down the trees, burst open the door, and drove out all the Captain’s kye before them.
An old woman of the Captain’s kin cried, “Who dare loose the Captain’s kye, or answer to him and his men?”
“It is I, Watty Wudspurs, that loose the kye; I will not hide my name from thee; and I will loose them in spite of him and his men.”
When they came to the fair Dodhead they were a welcome sight, for instead of his own ten milk kye Jamie Telfer had now got thirty-three. He paid the rescue shot in gold and silver, and at Willie Scott’s burial, there were many weeping eyes.
Notes
12 The Telfers, though they had become Scotch at the time of this ballad, were originally a Norman family, descended from the knight “Taille-fer” (cut-iron), who came over with William the Conqueror.