SCOTS CASTLES.

Waikato Times, Volume 98, Issue 15312, 13 August 1923, Page 9

SCOTS CASTLES.

THAT HAVE BEKN CURSED.

THE DRUMMER OF CORTACHY.

THE FALLEN STONES OF FYVIE

The castle of the Ogilvies was pre-

pared for.war. Sentries were poston its battlemented towers, and tlie arms of its defenders Hashed in the sunshine, writes a special contributor of the ".People's Journal." Towards it, across the fresh green turf of the fertile glen, came striding a mere boy, with a drum strapped to his shoulder. He wore the tartan of a clan hated by the Ogilvies, but his proud bearing and flashing eye showed that he approached' their stronghold without fear. "I bear a message to my lord OgIlvy," was his answer to the sentry's challenge. "Tell it then, and I shall carry it to him." "Nay; my orders are that I must see him alone," said the youth. "My message is of importance and not for other ears." What happened in my Lord's chamber has never been known, but that the messenger bore a challenge that was insulting, or news that gave offence, is beyond doubt. Suddenly the door was flung open, and, in response to Ogilvy's angry shouts, men-at-arms and servants hastened along the stone-flagged passages. "Death to "the knave!" cried my Lord, his visage purple with fury as he pointed to the shrinking drummer. "Over the battlements with him! Let him and his drum be flung from the topmost tower! Away with him 1 #'ay!" Merciless was the decree, and instantly it was carried out.' But as the menials dragged the lad away his clear young voice rang out: "I do not fear to die, cruel Ogilvy." he cried. "But listen —my body you may kill, but my spirit shall be your conqueror and tyrant. When my drum shall sound in your ears, know that your "doom is at hand, and so shall be sounded the doom of all the Ogilvies!" It was thus that came to the Castle of Cortachy the strange curse that has rested for centuries on the family, and which is one of the most remarkable cases of the supernatural " warning" in the annals of Scottish history: In due time the cruel chief heard the ghostly call of the drum, and paled as he recalled its dreadful significance—and through many generations since its weird note has heralded the approaching death of a member of the family. The Guest's Mistake. One of the drummer's visits his become outstanding because of the care with which lit was put on record. The • time was Christmas, and the Castle contained many guests, including a Miss Dalrymple, who had never heard of the family legend. She was destined to learn of it in a most dramatic way. While dressing for dinner on the very first evening of her arrival she heard strange noises under her window, and in a little they formed themselves into the clear rolling of a dram. She looked out, but could see nothing, though the sound was apparently just below. A few minutes later a maid entered her room, . and Miss Dalrymple asked what the 4 drumming was for. The girl paled, ™ stammered a few words, and quietly withdrew. Still curious the lady interrupted the conversation at dinner with the question to Lord Ogilvy: "My Lord," she asked, "who is your drummer?" The introduction of the classic sketeton at the feast could not have caused so much consternation as that seemingly innocent query. A silence of the deepest embarrassment fell on the company, and Lord and Lady Airlie both grew white as death. Perceiving the effect of her remark the unhappy guest took an early opportunity of leaving the. room, and, afterwards, taking one of the other visitors aside, she begged for an ex* planation. "Have you never heard of the drummer boy of Airlie\" she was asked, and on admitting her ignorance the legend was related to her. "Then," she said, white faced and trembling, "I certainly heard the Jrummer last night." / That evening the same sound under her window filled her with terror, and on the following day she left the castle. The incident was soon generally known among the friends of the Airlies, who waited with apprehension to see if the fatal secret foretold in the legend would follow. It did, for soon afterwards the Countess of Airlie died at Brighton—and a melancholy fact was that among the papers found in her desk was one in which she had written, at the time that the drummer's ghostly call was heard, that the summons was undoubtedly meant for her. Only four years later the fatal sound was again heard under strange curcumstances. It was on the evening of 19th August, and Lord Ogilvy, the heir to the Earldom of Airlie, had ; mvited a number of guests to shoot ..over his estate. One of them, a young Englishman, was on his way, . along with a"ghillie as guide, to a ~ shooting box known as the Tulchan, which stood in the heart of a wilderness of moors. His surprise must therefore have been great when, through the brooding silence, he heard what seemed to be the faint strains of music, and, sounding clearly above them, the beating of a drum. "Dear mc, Donald," ho said peering through the gloom, "where can that band be which I heard?" "That what, sir," said the Highlander shaking his head. "Save the lodge o' Tulchan, there's nae drummer who could beat his drum on the moors. But that sound's no' canny," : he added uneasily. At that moment the lights of the shooting lodge came into view, and ' the Englishman quickly found thai, the sounds he hoard could not have ; proceeded from that source. But ' his story cast a deep gloom over the whole party, and it became deeper when, the host failing to appear, it was learned Unit a telegram .summoned him that very day to London where his father lay dangerously ill. Next day the Earl of Airlie died, and it was clear that once again the prorumbling of the "martyred boy's j : an had been the forerunner or WVagedy and grief. The Curse Of Fyvie. Almost equally famous and certainly well known in the North of Scotland is the legendary curse that sat heavily for three centuries on ihe occupants of l-'yvio Castle. The curse was altribu- '"■! to Thomas the Rhymer, and may 'f paraphrased as follows: Hapless Fyvic's dames shall be Till in its walls are builders three Tliat once have lain in sacred land, And thence been ta'en by spoiler's hand. One stone shall be in Preston's Tower, Another in my lady's bower— Tie third the water-gate must grace, But never shall ye till its place. The suggestion of sacrilege contained in the prophecy is borne out by

history, which tells us that the existing

"Preston Tower" was built by Henry de Preston in 1390 with stones which he obtained by demolishing a neighbouring religious house. Three of these stones, which presumably had something noteworthy about them, fell into the River Yllian and were lost. The prophecy of Thomas Rhymer is that till all three are recovered 'which, according to the last line, will never be) the family owning the castle will die out in the second generation.

Though it, might be difficult to prove that this prediction has been literally fulfilled, there is no doubt that more than sufficient evidence is available for those who would wish to establish the existence and the potency of the curse. It began with Sir Henry Preston himself, who died, leaving an only daughter. She married a Meldrum, thus conveying the property into another family. After being for some time in the possession of the Meldrums it was purchased by Alexander Seton, subsequently created Lord Fyvie and Earl of Dunfermline. Ho added Seton Tower to Fyvie Castle, and when he died he had the satisfaction of knowing that a son was left to carry on the line.

But the curse began again its sinster operations—at. least the eupcrstitous might have thought so, for this son of Seton's became a partisan of King Charles the First in the troublous days of the Stuart succession, and was exiled to France, where he died childless and in abject poverty. History repeated itself when Fyvie was bought by the Earl of Aberdeen In 1726. Ho bequeathed the castle to his son, and within 40 years every one of the younger earl's decendants had died out.