Oh hullo, it's yersel... Ye'd best come in... Whit d'ye mean, of course ah'm gled tae see ye, ah wis jist in the middle o somethin that's aw... Sit yersel doon by the fire, jist clear a space wid ye, pit that stuff oan the flair, ah'll be wi ye as suin as ah've fixed ma face... Ah'm sorry aboot the mess, ah've eh, ah've no gotten roond tae daein ma hoosework this mornin...
Ah ken, afore ye stairt oan me, ah've been awfy bad. Keepin ma curtains drawn, ignorin aw the bangin at the door an shoutin through the letterbox, barely settin fit oot the hoose. Ah ken some o ye hae been wantin tae come in tae hear ma stories, but tae be quite honest wi ye ah've no been feelin up tae it. Ah might like tae gie aff like ah'm this happy-go-lucky, aye laughin, aye drinkin sort o wumman, but like maist fowk ah hae ma doon-times. Like every yin o ye ah hae days ah jist want tae pu ma blankets ower ma heid an forget the world. Except mine can go oan fer weeks...
Of course ah've no been shut up aw this time. Aw naw. Ah've had tae go oot tae dae ma messages an the like, pick up ma prescriptions, that sortae thing. Ma doctor telt me ah should go a walk in the sunshine when ah can, tae tak masel oot o masel if ye ken whit ah mean. So ah did. Ah took masel wee daunders roond graveyairds tae lay flooers, doon back-closes tae luik at auld murder-scenes, across bridges tae see how high they are, an alang the Water o Leith...
Ah wis trauchlin alang this day past yin o the weirs oan the Water, an ma mynd wanderit back tae aw the weirs ah've kent ower the years. There wis this yin couple fae a while back, brither an sister they were, an a richt antlin couple they were an aw. He wis a bit obsessed if ye ask me, quite the purist so he wis, aye threapin at fowk tae luik forrit an tae raise their een tae the sunny uplands aheid...
The sister oan the ither haun wis a richt droll doll, she aye wis, she yaist tae spin awsorts o unco tales, supposedly stories fae her past an her upbringin in the aulden days, an here's the queer thing, she thocht she wis a witch...
Oh hing oan a meenit, ah can see whit ye're thinkin. Ye think ah'm talkin aboot Tom an Molly Weir din't ye?
Naw naw, they're no the Weirs ah'm talkin aboot. Naw, ah'm talkin aboot Major Thomas Weir an his sister Grizel Weir. At least, we yaist tae cry her Grizel, though ah think her real name wis Jean. The twa o them hailit fae Lanarkshire an were aff sheep-fermin fowk. Thomas wis born in 1599 an he had focht in the Covenantin Wars ower in Ireland in 1641, an rose tae the rank o Major. When he retired in 1650 he wis apointit heid o the Embra Toun Gaird.
The twa o them bidit in a land near the tap o the West Bow, that awfy steep creukit street that runs fae the Lawnmercat doon tae the Gressmercat. The Bow itsel, or the auld city gate, stood at the first turn oan the way doon, jist aboot whaur Victoria Terrace crosses it noo. There a muckle widden gate hung oan twa enormous hinges, an back in the auld days this gate wis shut fast every nicht. The Bow yaist tae be whaur aw the tinsmiths, silversmiths an hammermen had their shops, an fowk wid talk aboot the 'tinklin o the Bow' fer it wis a noisy wee bit. Some o the hooses oan the Bow had stood langer than maist fowk could mynd, an lookin at the yin at the tap o the street, ye hae tae wunner how they stood at aw!
In the Covenantin days, in the latter hauf o the seeventeenth century, the fowk o the Bow had a reputation fer religious purity second tae nane in the toun, an they were sae up thersels we yaist tae cry them the 'Bowheid Saints'. Major Weir wis the godliest o the godly, the purest o the pure, an his prayers an sermons were sae fervent, sae birsie, that he got the name o 'Angelical Thomas'. He wis byorner a dour man, tall an lanky wi a big neb, aye luikin doon tae the groond, but when he stood up tae pray, leanin oan his cruikit thornwood staff, his een were aw alicht an the power seemed tae thrill through his body as he warned his flock o the comin o the End o Days an the great fecht atween Guid an Evil. He wis a bit dramatic tae ma way o thinkin, but the Bowheid Saints lapped it up an thocht he wis somethin special...
Of course, we werenae aw taken in by the Saints o the Bow, an there were some queer tales went roond, in parteecular aboot Major Weir's thornwood staff. Some said it yaist tae go his messages fer him, some said it answered the door fer him, ithers even said they had seen it bouncin alang the street afore him at nicht, cairryin a lamp fer him! It wis a cursed stick, fowk said he got his preachin powers fae it, some said the verry Devil wis in it, but some fowk'll say onythin fer a laugh...
But fer aw the gossipin that went oan aboot Angelical Thomas, ye can imagine the stir that went roond the toun when we heard that he had stood up tae preach yin nicht, but insteid o comin oot wi his usual firebrand holier-than-thou sermonisin, he launched intae a confession.
An no jist ony confession it wis either, nane o yer 'ah'm a puir sinner nae fit fer God's mercy' stuff. Naw, this wis a confession o true evil, o bein in league wi Auld Nick hissel, o practicin sins that didnae hae names, sins o the flesh an o sorcery. He claimed tae be a warlock o the worst sort. The first ah heard o it wis the mornin efter, staunin in a line doon at the Fleshmercat doon Halkerston's Wynd. Jessie Knox telt me she had heard it fae her auntie's cousin that had a button stall up the Lawnmercat, an she had heard it fae her neebor's sister's man, him bein a porter doon the Bow. Nane o us believed it at first, it wis jist the sort o tattle ye aften heard in the toun, here th'day gone th'morn sortae story. Even the Provost didnae believe it, an refused tae hae the Major arrestit, hopin the thing wid jist blaw ower...
But then Grizel stepped up, an claimed the twa o them had been th'gither, as man an wife so tae speak, fer years, an had gotten up tae awsorts, an caused aw kind o strange phenomena. She said that they had inheritit their witchcraft fae their mither, an regularly toured the countryside in a fiery coach, gaun tae coven meet-ups. She confirmed that the Major got his diabolical powers fae his cruikit staff. It wis the incest that did it fer them tho, an so the three o them, Thomas, Grizel, an the walkin-stick, were aw locked up in the Tolbooth...
Ah mynd Major Weir's trial weel, fer it wis ma birthday, the 9th day o April, 1670, an ah treatit masel tae a new hat an a nice broch fer ma shawl. It wis fair, quite warm fer the time o year, wi wee fluffy clouds, nae sign o rain. We didnae find oot much mair at the trial than we awready knew, fer the Major widnae let oan. He said he had said aw he had tae say an he wisnae aboot tae say nae mair. When he wis asked if he had ever actually seen the Deil, he answered that 'the only feelin ah ever had o him wis in the dark'. That raised a wee titter, but aw in aw it wis a bit o a disappointment, but ah still had the hat an the broch, which wis nice...
So, anither trip doon tae the Gallowlee oan Leith Walk it wis. Afore they strung the no-sae-Angelical-noo Thomas up, they asked him fer his repentance, but he wid gie them nane o it. "Ah hae lived as a beast, ah will die as a beast!"
An so he did. Efter the hingin they threw the Major oan the fire, as per witchcraft rules, an they threw his stick oan efter him, an ah hae tae admit, it crackled an spat an twistit an louped aboot like, weel, like a stick posessed...
Grizel wis taen doon the Gressmercat fer her hingin, an she managed tae gie us a wee bit o entertainment at the end an aw. She took it intae her heid that she had tae die wi aw the shame she could, an it wis aw the magistrates could dae tae stop her fae rippin aw her claes aff. Puir mad auld sowel...
An that's the tale o the Weirs o the West Bow. Noo ony similarity ye micht see atween them an Tom an Molly Weir is fae yer ain fervid imagination, nothin tae dae wi me. Ah hope ye're gled ye got me tae answer ma door, tae be honest ah'm gled ah answered it an aw. It's nae fun tellin stories tae yersel, fer a stairt ah'm aye askin questions ah dinnae ken the answers tae. So if ye're done ah'll let ye get oan, ah think ah've got some hoosework tae get oan wi masel. Noo dinnae be a stranger, Cheerie!
The sister oan the ither haun wis a richt droll doll, she aye wis, she yaist tae spin awsorts o unco tales, supposedly stories fae her past an her upbringin in the aulden days, an here's the queer thing, she thocht she wis a witch...
