The Coming of the Unicorn (2 page)

Now, one time a long time ago on a small farm beside a little river there lived two cats, a black cat and a white one. And the black cat was very old, but the white one was young. They used to curl up in the straw inside the farm building every night. And the old black cat was like me – he was a storyteller. He used to tell the white cat all these stories about himself when he was young, and the white cat got kind of sick listening to him telling all these stories, you know! One night after they had finished their milk by the farm doorway they curled up as usual in the barn to sleep.

The black cat said, “I’m not sleepy tonight, I’d like to tell you a story!”

And the white cat said, “Look, I’m fed up listening to your stories. You’ve been telling me stories now since I was a small kitten.”

The black cat said, “The one I would like to tell you most of all is how I used to catch fish, because I am a great fisherman.”

The white cat said, “You catch fish?”

“Of course,” the black cat said, “I’m a great fisherman! I’ve caught many fish in my time.”

“Well,” the cat says, “we’ve been hungry many days and you’ve never tried to catch a fish for me.”

“If you come with me tomorrow,” said the black cat, “I’ll take you down to the little brook and I’ll show you how good a fisherman I am.”

So the white cat said, “Okay, but let us go to sleep. I’m tired.”

And the black cat said, “Tomorrow you’re coming with me to the river! I’m going to show you how good a fisherman I
really am.”

So the next morning off they set the both of them, and they came to the little stream. It was full of little fishes, all swimming up and down by the riverside. And the white cat said, “How do we get these fish out of there?”

The black cat said, “It’s quite simple: all you need to do is sit there with your paw in the water, keep your claws out, and hide. When a little fish passes by – just throw it up on the grass.”

“That looks quite simple,” said the white cat.

“But just watch me,” said the black cat, “how quick I can get one!”

So he put his paw in the water and he waited and he waited and he waited. Not one single fish passed by. The white cat went a little bit further up-stream, put his paw in the water, and sure enough along came a little fish. And the white cat went fweesht – out goes the little fish on the grass. The white cat kills it with his paw.

He says, “That’s for my supper tonight!”

Now the black cat, he sat and he sat and he sat all day and never caught one fish, till he finally got fed up. He came up from the river and his paw was all wet. It was cold. And there was the white cat sitting with a little fish for his supper.

“You didn’t have much luck,” said the white cat, “catching your fish, great fisherman!”

“Well, no,” he said, “I didn’t get one. But I see you have got one.”

“Yes,” said the white cat, “first time in my life, first fish I’ve ever caught, and I’m not boasting about it.”

The black cat said, “I’m very hungry. Why don’t you share it with me?”

“Share it with you?” said the white cat. “My own one little fish I caught for myself? To share it with you? Indeed I will not; this is coming home for my supper!”

“Please,” said the black cat, “I’m an old friend of yours. Why
don’t you halve it with me?”

So, they sat there arguing about the little fish. Who should come along at that very time but Mister Fox! And he too was hungry. He said, “What’s the trouble?”

And the white cat said, “Look, Mister Black Cat here took me down to the river to teach me how to fish. And I caught this little fish. He fished all day and never got any, and he wants half of mine! I am not going to give it to him.”

“Well,” said the fox, who was hungry and wanted the fish for himself, “that’s not the way to treat a friend. You should always halve with a friend.”

And the white cat said, “He is not getting half of my fish!”

Now they had sat there until the moon came up and they were still arguing.

“Well,” said the fox, “seeing you’re being like that, I’ll tell you what to do. They tell me that cats are great singers, and they can sing wonderful songs!” The fox said, “You two cats look up at the moon and start to sing and the one who sings the best song will win the fish. I’ll be the judge. Do you agree to that?”

Now the old cat, who knew plenty songs because he was very old, thought to himself, I’ll win it and I’ll have it because I know Gaelic songs and I know plenty folk songs and I’ve heard plenty old-fashioned songs around the farm. This young cat’ll never be able to compete with me.

But the fox said, “Both of you must look up, keep looking at the moon and sing me a song! Then I’ll be the judge.”

So the two cats, they looked up at the moon and they started to sing, “meow-ow-ow-meow.” And they went on and on for about ten minutes. Meantime Mister Fox had gobbled up the little fish! He went on his way.

The two cats sat there till their voices got hoarse trying to sing. And then they stopped. They looked round. Gone was the little fish and gone was Mister Fox! Mister Fox went home to his
den and had a good laugh to himself over the trick he had played on the two cats.

The two cats wandered home tired and weary and very hungry. They cuddled up in straw and went to sleep… and that night the old black cat never told any stories!

Now, boys and girls, I have a lovely story for you. When you walk the streets in big cities there are cobblestones – little stones laid across the streets so that you can walk on them and your feet won’t get wet. There’s many in the big cities, lots in Edinburgh. And these cobblestones are very hard to make, boys and girls; they are made by little people called cobblestone makers. They work in the great big granite mountains, chip away all day long and make all those beautiful cobblestones.

Now, my story begins a long time ago… for working on a great granite mountain there was a tiny little cobblestone maker. He had a little hammer and a little chisel and would chip away all day long making all those beautiful little cobblestones. And he was so sad. Because whenever he made a little heap of cobblestones someone would come with a horse and cart and take them away, put them on the street. The little cobblestone maker worked all alone.

He said, “Why am I not a very important person? I work so hard to make stones. And someone comes, takes them away and then they walk on my work!” Oh, the poor little cobblestone maker was very, very sad. He said, “I’m just a poor cobblestone maker. No one ever recognises me and no one appreciates my work.” And every morning before he would start chipping away at the little cobblestones he would look up at the sky and wish that people would look up at him.

But unknown to him one morning an old wizard was flying home to his home in the mountains and he stopped to rest.
The little cobblestone maker never saw him, but he heard the little cobblestone maker saying to himself, “Oh, I wish people wouldn’t walk on my work…”

And then the old wizard said, “Oh, you want to be important do you, little cobblestone maker?
I will make you important,
” and he laughed to himself and flew away. The little cobblestone maker knew nothing of this.

But next morning when he went to his work, before he started he said yet again, “Oh, I wish I was an important person!” And then there was a great flash and the little cobblestone maker was amazed, for he stood there and felt something heavy on his head. He put his hands up to his head and there on his head was a
gold crown
. And he looked at his clothes – he had a red cloak trimmed in ermine – and he said, “I am a king! I am a king! Now people will look up at me, now they will worship me, now they will obey me!”

And he walked through the village. People saw him coming; they bowed and said,‘The king has come, the king has come!” and they went down on their knees.

The little cobblestone maker was so happy. He said, “Now I am the king people will look up at me. I am the most important person in the whole world, I am the king!”

Now, it had been a very dull, dull week in the village. The sun had never shone in the village for many days, and as the king walked into the village the sun arose and shone in the village.

And the people of the village said, “The sun has come back. We have never seen the sun for many days,” and they turned their back on the king and worshipped the heat of the sun.

The little cobblestone maker said, “A king is not very important; people are turning their backs on me. The sun is more important than me! Oh, I wish I was the sun!” And then there was a big flash… and the little cobblestone maker was high in the sky in the sun. And he looked down at all the people
below him as they worshipped the heat of the sun. Now, thought the little cobblestone maker, I am the most important person in the whole world – I am the
sun
. And then, just at that moment a big black cloud came along and blackened out the sun. And the people ran for shelter.

They said, “It’s going to be rain. There’s going to be a storm, the sun is gone.”

And the little cobblestone maker thought to himself, the sun is not important; a big black rain cloud is more important than the sun. Look how the people run for shelter. Oh, I wish I was a rain cloud! And then there was another flash… the little cobblestone maker was a great black
rain cloud
floating across the valley as he watched the people run for shelter. And then, there was a big cloudburst! All the rain fell into the valley and flooded the rivers and carried away the trees and animals, buildings and houses.

And the little cobblestone maker said, “A rain cloud is not important, a rushing torrent is more important than a rain cloud. Oh, I wish I was a rushing torrent!”

And then there was another flash… the little cobblestone maker was a raging
river
running down the valley. He saw the people running to hide and rush for shelter as he carried off trees and buildings. Now, thought the little cobblestone maker, I am the most important thing in the whole world – I am a great rushing river. No one can stop me now! And as he ran down the valley at the foot of the valley there was a great stone cliff. And when the raging river hit the cliff it could not move the cliff, so the river split. One side of the river went to one side and one went to the other side.

And of course the little cobblestone maker who was the raging river said, “A raging torrent is not important. A mighty cliff is more important than a raging torrent. I wish I was a mighty cliff.”

And then there was a big flash… the little cobblestone maker
was a great, mighty
cliff
sitting at the foot of the valley. Now, thought the little cobblestone maker, everyone will worship me. No one can move me now! I am the most important thing of all. And he stood there, and he stood there. The people admired the great cliff at the foot of the valley. Till one morning.

He felt a little tickling on his back. Tickle, tickle, tickle on his back of the great mountain. And he looked round his back – what do you think he saw? A little cobblestone maker chipping away with his little hammer on his back!

And the great granite cliff said, “A great mountain is not important, a granite cliff is not important; the most important thing of all is a little cobblestone maker. If
he
keeps chipping away on my back some day I will disappear and be gone. Oh, I wish I was a cobblestone maker!”

And then there was another flash, and the little cobblestone maker was
himself
again. Then, he looked back – he saw another little cobblestone maker with his hammer and his little chisel.

And he said, “I won’t be lonely any more. I won’t wish for anything now – I have a little friend to keep me in company,” because there was a second little cobblestone maker chipping away on the hillside.

So, the two little cobblestone makers became great friends. And the little cobblestone maker never complained in the morning. He said, “Now I’ve got something more important than all the important things in the world – a little friend.”

The old fox had lain in his den all day and he was hungry, because the days before he had been out hunting he had got very little to eat. In fact, he was terrified, because he had been hunted twice by gamekeepers. Nightfall was approaching and he said to himself, “Well, I will have to get something before night, because when it gets dark I’m not going to have much of a chance – all the birds will be roosting and all the rabbits will be in their burrows – I had better go out and get something to eat!”

So away went the old fox. He wandered here, he wandered there, he wandered everywhere that he thought he could find some game for himself to kill. But he could find nothing. He travelled on all his familiar paths, all his old hunting places. But not a hare, not a rabbit, nothing could he find. And the more he wandered the hungrier he got. Evening was approaching fast. So he sat down, considered for a while; he knew that he wasn’t going to find anything to eat that night.

He said to himself, “There is only one thing I’ll have to do.”

He knew it wasn’t very far away to the nearest farm because he could see the lights in the distance. But he was kind of afraid to go near the farm in case the farmer was around with his gun – might shoot him for hunting some of his hens.

“If I could only see my old cousin the dog,” he said to himself. “He probably has an old bone lying about, or maybe he has not finished his evening meal and would share it with me.”

So, he finally made up his mind to go as quietly as he could, go
and visit his old friend Cousin Dog at the farm. He knew there was no other way he was going to get anything that night.

Away he went walking up the lane as stealthily as he could so that nobody could see him. Finally, he came to the farm and round to the front where he knew his old cousin Dog had his kennel. By good luck he never encountered the farmer. As he came round the corner to the front of the farm the first person he met was his old cousin Dog! And the farmer was just after bringing the old dog his supper. It was lying in a little dish beside the dog’s kennel – there were bones and pieces of meat, all kinds, lying in the dog’s dish. The fox saw this and it just made his mouth water!

So, he said, “Hello, Cousin Dog, how are you?”

And the dog said, “Oh, it’s yourself, Old Fox!”

“Aye,” he said, “it is.”

“And what puts you down here at this time of night? I thought you would be away hiding out in your old den up in the cliffs for the night,” said Old Dog.

“Well, to tell you the truth,” said the fox, “the only reason I’ve come to visit you – and you know it is not often I come to see you – I’m asking… I just came to ask you a favour.”

“Well,” said the dog, “we’re friends, we’re relations. And you never trouble me very often. If there is anything you want and I can help you out, I’ll try my best. What is your favour?”

“Well,” the fox said, “I have been hungry all day. In fact, I am so hungry I am no able to hunt. The gamekeeper hunted me all day yesterday, never gave me a chance to eat. I am so hungry I can barely walk. I just came down to see you, to see if you had an old bone lying about and any bits of scraps of food you could spare a poor hungry cousin.”

“Oh,” the dog says, “if that’s all that’s troubling you, there is plenty here! There’s my supper, I’ve had plenty to eat and I’m no hungry. I’m just about to go for a sleep for the night, and if
I dinna eat it up the farmer will think, what’s wrong with him? And he’ll no give me any more for breakfast. So, help yourself!”

So, the fox got in to this dish of food, he just guzzled it up as fast as he could. He felt a bit better after he had licked the dish clean. So, he and the dog sat and they talked for a wee while.

“You know,” the dog said to him, “Cousin Fox, you are in the wrong kind of life.”

“And what makes you think that?” the fox said.

“Well,” he said, “look at me here: I sit here and I get plenty to eat, I have a nice warm kennel and plenty straw to sleep in, I get plenty of food, plenty to drink, plenty bones and I have got a great life! You’ll have to change your ways.”

The fox said, “Ah, certainly! What have you got to do for all this? You must do something. You cannae just stay on the farm all the days of your life and do nothing for all this food and this good bed you get, this nice kennel and everything you do.”

“Well,” he said, “I guard the farm. And if anybody, any strangers or anybody comes about at night, I bark and waken the farmer up, let him know if there is anybody around about the farm.”

“Ahem,” the fox says, “well, that is not a very hard job.”

“No,” the dog said, “the fact is, I enjoy my life and I like it here.”

“Well,” said the fox, “what would I need to do for to get the same kind of job that you’ve got?”

“Well,” the dog said, “the first thing you have got to do is come on down and see the farmer.”

“But if I come and see the farmer,” he said, “he probably will shoot me, because I am a fox and farmers don’t like foxes!”

“Well, that’s true,” said the dog. “But the main thing you have got to get first is – you have got to get a kennel.”

“Well,” the fox said, “I like your kennel. It is fine and warm and comfortable.”

“And then,” he says, “you get your collar and your chain.”

“What did you say?” said the fox.

He says, “You get your collar, a nice leather collar round your neck and a chain.”

“And what’s the collar and chain for?” says the fox.

“Well,” he says, “to tie you up.”

“Tie you up?” says the fox.

“Yes,” he says, “tie you up!”

“And you mean to say, you stay tied up there all day with a collar and chain round your neck, tied up like a slave?”

“Aye,” said the dog, “that’s what I do – I’m tied up. Except sometimes when my master lets me out and takes me out for a walk for exercise. But never mind being tied up,” said the dog, “life is quite good and your belly is never empty!”

“Ah, no,” said the fox, “not me, Old Cousin Dog! I like your food and I like your bed and I like your home. But,” he said, “I like my freedom best! So, I will be bidding you goodbye, Old Dog. But thanks very much for the supper. If I ever have the chance to come and see you again, I will return and see you some other time. But you will never get me tied up with a chain or a collar for all the food and all the beds in the world. For freedom is the thing that I love!”

At that the fox was gone, and the dog never saw him any more.

And that is the last of my story.

This is a very old tale and was told to me many years ago by my mother’s brother Duncan. He was a great storyteller, old Duncan Townsley. He belonged to Argyll.