There was once a tailor at Saddell Castle, and he was known as The Sprightly Tailor, for he was quick with his needle, quick with his tongue, and quicker still when there was a reward to be earned. The great Macdonald, who was laird there, had need of a fine pair of trews, and he sent for the tailor.
The trews were to be made in one piece, with the upper part joined to the breeches, and they were to have fringes about them as was the custom in those days. The tailor examined the cloth, rubbed it between his fingers, and said that the work could be done.
Then Macdonald said, “There is one thing more.”
“What is that, my lord?”
“You must make them tonight.”
“That can be done.”
“You must make them in the old church.”
At this the tailor looked toward the glen.
The old church stood about half a mile from the castle. It had fallen into ruin, and people did not care to go there after sunset. They said that things could be heard beneath the stones, and that a great apparition came up through the floor at night.
The tailor knew the tale as well as anyone.
“What will I receive if the trews are finished before morning?” he asked.
“A handsome reward.”
“Then I shall go.”
So, when darkness came, The Sprightly Tailor took his cloth, his needle, his thread, a candle, and his thimble. He walked up the glen toward the ruined church.
There was little light upon the road. The tailor did not stop. He crossed the churchyard and went inside.
He found a gravestone that was broad enough for a seat, set down his candle, put the thimble upon his finger, and began his work.
For a good while there was nothing to trouble him.
The needle went in.
The needle came out.
The thread followed.
The tailor worked steadily, thinking of the reward waiting for him at the castle.
Then the stones beneath him moved.
He stopped for a moment and listened.
The floor trembled again.
The tailor looked down, but his hands did not stop working.
A great head was rising through the stone pavement.
It came slowly at first, then higher, until the whole head stood above the floor. It was the head of a huge man, and from it came a voice like thunder.
“Do you see this great head of mine?”
“I see that,” said the tailor, “but I shall sew this.”
And he continued with the trews.
The head rose higher.
The neck came through the stones.
Again the voice spoke.
“Do you see this great neck of mine?”
“I see that,” said the tailor, “but I shall sew this.”
And he kept working.
The shoulders appeared next, followed by a broad chest. The stones shook around the thing as it rose.
“Do you see this great chest of mine?”
“I see that,” said the tailor, “but I shall sew this.”
The needle went in and out.
The thread pulled tight.
The tailor made no more answer than was needed.
Then two enormous arms came up through the pavement.
The creature stretched them toward him.
“Do you see these great arms of mine?”
“I see those,” said the tailor, “but I shall sew this.”
By now the tailor had begun to make his stitches longer. There was not much time left before the work had to be finished.
The creature continued to rise.
One great leg came through the floor.
It stamped upon the stones.
“Do you see this great leg of mine?”
“Aye,” said the tailor, “I see it. But I shall sew this.”
The creature raised its other leg.
The tailor bent over his work.
His fingers moved faster.
The thread ran through the cloth.
One more stitch.
Then another.
The creature began to pull its second leg from the pavement.
But the trews were finished.
The tailor bit off the thread, seized the garment, blew out his candle, and jumped from the gravestone.
He ran for the door.
The creature gave a great roar.
It tore itself free of the church floor and came after him.
Down the glen ran the tailor, with the trews under his arm.
Behind him came the creature, stamping and roaring.
“Stop!”
The tailor did not stop.
“Come back!”
The tailor ran faster.
He had gone into the church for the laird’s reward, and he was not about to leave the trews behind after all that sewing.
The road dropped toward the castle. The tailor knew every turn of it, and his legs were good.
At last the walls of Saddell Castle came before him.
He passed through the gate and pulled it shut.
The creature reached the gate almost at once.
It struck the wall above the entrance with its great hand.
There was a crack in the stone.
Then the creature was gone.
The castle servants came running, and Macdonald himself asked what had happened.
The tailor held up the trews.
“They are finished.”
Macdonald looked at him, then at the road, then at the gate.
“Did you see anything in the church?”
“I saw enough.”
“And the trews?”
“Finished.”
Macdonald laughed, for the tailor was standing there covered in dust, with his hair untidy and his thread still hanging from his coat.
He paid him the promised reward.
The The Sprightly Tailor took the money and said nothing about the long stitches he had made near the end.
Macdonald did not notice them either.
As for the mark above the gate, the old people said that the five fingers of the creature could still be seen in the stone if a person looked closely enough.
And that is how The Sprightly Tailor earned his reward at Saddell, and why, for a long while afterward, no tailor in that country was easily persuaded to sew alone in the old church after dark.
