A tale from Clackmannan across the border from the Kingdom of Fife
Years ago, “Quarrel- burn” was a meeting place for the Witches of Dollar. When the unholy assembly had gathered together they would take to the sky on broomsticks for a wild flight to “Lochy Faulds”. A twisted Oak tree still marks the spot where the hags held their midnight revels. Beneath the branches of the Oak tree there is a circle of brown earth where no grass or vegetation will grow. The story goes…
A local farmer spoke disrespectfully of the witches after the mysterious death of his cattle. The witches heard of this and vowed vengeance. One night they swooped down on the terrified farmer and carried him off to the old Oak tree at “Lochy Faulds”. There the farmer stood trial before auld Nick himself. The farmer protested his innocence but the witches challenged him to disprove what had been reported of him. Terrified and in desperation he said, “ May a round ring encompass me, and may grass never grow upon it anymore, if I am not innocent of the crime laid to my charge.” This was a foolish pact to make in the presence of his Satanic Majesty. It is not known for sure what became of the farmer. Some say that he died on the spot and that his soul is trapped forever in the magic circle.
Ghostly vision still haunts after 40 years A SPOOKY sighting on a riverbank near Kirkcaldy is still perplexing a former Langtonian some 40 years after it happened.
Frank Nolan thinks he was seeing a strange visual echo of the past when he watched a gallows, a bridge and a female figure appear before his eyes at a lonely spot around half a mile north of the town.
But he’s now hoping Fife Free Press readers can shed some light on his unearthly experience, which he says was shared by a friend who saw the same things.
Frank (73) now lives in Edinburgh but during the 1950s he stayed in Kirkcaldy’s Macindoe Crescent and often went shooting on a farm to the north of the town.
One evening, he and a friend settled down for a smoke beside the River Ore when Frank saw movement out of the corner of his eye.
He told The Fife Free Press: ‘‘We saw three pillars appearing from the ground on the other side of the river.
‘‘What you saw when it started to fade was an empty gallows which appeared on the right.
‘‘Then a bridge appeared but only halfway over the river.
‘‘A woman dressed in crinoline and a big floppy hat was standing on the bridge and she seemed to be looking down the river.’’
Both men had a vague notion that they’d seen something else happen after that.
But, strangely, while both confirmed each other’s sightings of the pillars, gallows, bridge and lady, neither could put their finger on this last element.
In any event, they didn’t hang around for a second look.
‘‘We picked up our guns and our shooting bags and we were off,’’ said Frank.
Now, some four decades later, the pensioner is still trying to make sense of what he saw on that summer evening.
He’s made inquiries locally in a bid to discover whether or not there ever was a bridge on the spot, or if some momentous event took place there.
But so far he has drawn a blank, and he now hopes Fife Free Press readers can help explain his experience.
Frank says the visions appeared on the riverbank between two tree plantations just south of Fosterton Farm – a spot less than a mile north-west of Kirkcaldy’s Dunnikier estate.
‘‘We were obviously seeing something from the past,’’ said Frank.
‘‘Perhaps the pillars were from a place where a rowing boat was kept.
‘‘Maybe the woman was waiting to see if someone was coming up the river. She may even have been having a clandestine affair.’’
Whatever happened certainly seems to have made a lasting impression on Frank and his shooting friend.
So he’d be grateful for any information which might put it in perspective.
An old woman, bearing the character of a Witch, lived alone in a miserable hovel, situated on moorland in the centre portion of Fife. She was renown in the district for a wonderful breed of “doos” (pigeons) which she bred. One day a young lad visited the hut and purchased one of the pigeons. On the way home the pigeon disappeared. The young lad returned to the hut and found his bird sitting amongst its kin. An argument broke out between the old woman and the young lad about the ownership of the pigeon. The young lad won and he carried the bird home. Next morning the bird had vanished again. A search found the bird back in the old woman’s hut. The boy’s parents believed that the old woman was using sorcery to recover the pigeon so they consulted another witch. She advised the boy to return to the hut, unseen, and cut off a small portion of the witches petticoat, and then to return home to throw the rag in the fire. The boy carried out the witches instructions. No sooner had the rag caught fire when a great noise was heard. The door opened and the old woman burst in exclaiming that they were burning her heart. She seized the burning fragment from the hearth and disappeared. She was never seen in the area again.
In the 1500's a man called Neville de Beauchamp resided in Scotland. He was known as Flash Neville because of his hard drinking and gambling lifestyle. He married the daughter of a silk merchant in Perth but she died two years later of, it is said, a broken heart. Neville de Beauchamp was seized with guilt and remorse. He blamed himself and became a monk in Greyfriars monastery at St Andrews. The relatives of the dead girl sought revenge for her death. The girls brother tracked Neville to the monastery and forced his way into the chapel. He took his sword and slashed off Neville de Beauchamp's head. The body fell on the floor but the severed head, with a scream, flew up to the chapel ceiling and vanished through the roof. The body was given a burial but the head was never recovered. It is said that it would be seen whirling through the air over the monastery, screaming and groaning and causing great terror to the monks. The head soon became a skull and since that time has always haunted some member of the house of Beauchamp. Allen de Beauchamp was overseas when he heard of the death of his uncle. Now he was the last of the line and feared inheriting the skull. One day after the death of his uncle he saw what he thought was a ball on the ground. He gave it a kick and when it turned over he saw to his horror that it was the skull. It was gnashing its teeth and moaning. Then with a shriek it flew into the air and vanished. Allen tried every means possible to be rid of the skull but knew it was attached to him for the rest of his days. He locked the skull in a casket and kept it in an empty room. It was quiet most evenings but on stormy nights wails and gruesome shrieks could be heard coming from the casket. Now that the line of procession is broken the skull has disappeared. Perhaps Neville de Beauchamp finally rests in peace. Or could it be that the skull has returned to its old haunts in St Andrews?
One man was the catalyst for persecution and murder that shamed the small fishing community of Pittenweem. Patrick Morton was an impressionable lad who had been indoctrinated in witch superstition by the local minister. Sixty years had passed since the last witch trials in Pittenweem and now Patrick was about to set in motion a shameful series of events that would ensure Pittenweem's place in Scotland's history of witchcraft. At that time there were no executions for witchcraft but the 1704 -1705 Pittenweem witch trials left two people dead and one banished from the community. In 1704 Patrick Morton was working in his fathers forge and was given the task of forging some nails for a Mrs Beatrix Laing. Mrs Laing and Patrick had a heated argument because the lad would not forge her nails right away. Mrs Laing stormed out of the forge threatening Patrick with some kind of retribution. Next morning Patrick saw Mrs Laing throwing hot ashes into a tub of water. His upbringing in witch lore led Patrick to believe that Mrs Laing was casting a spell on him. Soon after Patrick lost his appetite and became weak and emaciated. As the months progressed Patrick exhibited bodily spasms and in his torment he accused Beatrix Laing and her neighbors, Mrs Nicholas Lawson, Thomas Brown, Janet Corphat and others of using witchcraft against him. In his hysterical rantings Patrick claimed that the Devil had appeared to him and urged him to deny the name of his 'Saviour'. The local minister urged the burgh elders to obtain a petition of the Privy Council to detain the accused on a charge of witchcraft. Mrs Laing was thrown into the town jail and under torture she testified against her neighbours. A testimony that she retracted at a later date. Some of the more moderate members of the burgh authorities ignored the rantings of the minister and Beatrix Laing was freed with a fine. She was considered to be accursed by the locals and so she was banished from the community. She lived out the rest of her life in St Andrews. Another of the accused, Thomas Brown, was starved to death in Pittenweem prison and Janet Corphat became the victim of mob rule. The mob, incited by the minister, broke into the prison and seized Janet Corphat. They beat her and dragged her down to the beach, where she was beaten again. They placed a door on top of Janet and onto the door they piled rocks until the weight crushed the life out of Janet's body. Even this spectacle did not satisfy the blood lust of the mob. They called for a man with a horse and sledge and made him drive backwards and forwards over Janet's corpse. The leaders of the mob went unpunished and Patrick Morton was found to be an hysterical impostor who was not brought to justice for his wrongful accusations. Janet's body was flung into the communal grave at 'Witches Corner'.
To most of us the door to the other world remains firmly shut. To a blessed or cursed few the door is always open and they must learn to share their lives with the spirit world. Young Patsy Jean Fagan was one of those gifted people. At the age of four she shared a large house on the Kinghorn Road with her parents, grandmother and an uncle. The house would be converted in later years into the Kingswood Hotel. Young Patsy's first encounters with the spirit world happened in that house and they were not pleasant. The family called the ghost Jenny and it seemed to have a particular dislike of the four year old girl. Patsy was sure the thing was an animal because it would nip her backside and chase her round the house in the manner of a goose. Perhaps it was the spirit of some bird they had eaten for Sunday dinner. Her mother made Patsy a pair of breeks out of red flannel which the ghost seemed to take a dislike to. Whenever Patsy wore the red flannel breeks around the house Jenny would attack and many a day her parents would hear Patsy screaming, "Jenny is biting my bum!". One evening the ghost chased Patsy out of her room down the stairs and towards the living room where Patsy leapt up to the handles of the closed door. Her grandmother, hearing the commotion, opened the door and Patsy swung in still holding onto the handle. At that time Patsy had a live in nanny who she loved very much. Her nanny was from Jamaica and had ebony black skin and favoured black clothing. One evening her father returned home and made his way up the stairs. Patsy's nanny had just looked in on her and was making her way downstairs. Because the nanny was black skinned and wearing black clothes all Patsy's father could see were a pair of eyes floating down the stairs. He gave a scream and rushed out of the house thinking he had seen the ghost. Not all Patsy's early encounters with the spirit world were unpleasant. She wasn't very old at this time but she was adventurous and a little foolhardy. She decided one morning to climb the cliff at the back of the house. She gave no thought to personal safety or to how far she was going until she looked down and saw that the people in the streets below looked like ants. In an instant she felt lonely, vulnerable and lost. She had no idea how she was going to get back down. She sat down behind a boulder and began to cry. It was not long before she sensed she was not alone. She looked round and saw the most beautiful lady dressed in a flowing white dress. The dress seemed to blend into her skin as though the lady was made of the same delicate material. Patsy was filled with an inner warmth and all her fears and anxiety faded. Suddenly Patsy heard voices and her attention was diverted away from the White Lady. When Patsy turned her gaze back towards the White Lady she was gone. The voice that diverted her attention belonged to her father who had climbed up to rescue her. The years have gone by but Patsy still has fond memories of the White Lady and the Irish Gold. Some who have heard the tale, but have not listened, assume the gold to be the valuable yellow metal, but it is not so. Patsy comes off Irish stock and the gold she talks about is the Shamrock shaped patch of emerald green grass on which the White Lady stood. Perhaps that patch of grass is still up there behind the Kingswood hotel. Patsy believes that she will see the White Lady again and is looking forward to the reunion.