From the Department of Enticing Rabbit Holes by Molly MacRae

photo by Joan Jo Castello from Pixabay 

 

“What piece of useless but fascinating research have you uncovered in the writing of a book?” That’s the question Connie Berry asked at the end of her entertaining piece, The Siren Song of Research, a couple of weeks ago on Writers Who Kill. It’s a great question, Connie. It immediately tipped me down a hole where I spent way too much time re-reading notes I’ve taken while stumbling around after rabbits in so many other holes.

One hole, delving into the early 1500s, captivated me in particular. It’s probably a coincidence that Connie’s hole also dated back to the early 1500s. But, considering the Scottish setting of her A Dream of Death and my Highland Bookshop Mysteries, it’s not surprising that both holes are in Scotland. Connie’s hole, with that fraudulent adventurer John Damien, might have left Damien’s contemporaries tempted to swear. Mine, with Archbishop of Glasgow Gavin Dunbar, is all about swearing. British author George MacDonald Fraser admired the archbishop and counted him “among the great cursers of all time.”

What drove His Grace to swear? Border reivers. These mounted and heavily armed raiders terrorized the Anglo-Scottish border from the 13^th through the early 17^th century. Dunbar, in 1525, was fed up. The lawlessness had reached an unprecedented state, and he felt called upon to issue a “Monition of Cursing” against the rievers. He ordered it to be read from every pulpit and circulated throughout the length and breadth of the borders.  

Here, in the original Scots, is a short sample (a mere 208 words) of Dunbar’s curse. The entire invective goes on for 1,476 words.

“I CURSE thair heid and all the haris of thair heid; I CURSE thair face, thair ene, thair mouth, thair neise, thair toung, thair teith, thair crag, thair schulderis, thair breast, thait hert, thair stomok, thair bak, thair wame, thair armes, thair leggis, thair handis, thair feit, and everilk part of thair body, frae the top of thair heid to the soill of thair feit, befoir and behind, within and without. I CURSE thaim gangand, and I CURSE thaim rydand; I CURSE thaim standand, and I CURSE thaim sittand; I CURSE thaim etand, I CURSE thaim drinkand; I CURSE thaim walkand, I CURSE thaim sleepand; I CURSE thaim rysand, I CURSE thaim lyand; I CURSE thaim at hame, I CURSE thaim fra hame; I CURSE thaim within the house, I CURSE thaim without the house; I CURSE thair wiffis, thair banris, and thair servandis participand with thaim in thair deides.

I WARY thair cornys, thair catales, thair woll, thair scheip, thair horse, thair swine, thair geise, thair hennys, and all thair quyk gude. I WARY thair hallis, thair chalmeris, thair kechingis, thair stabillis, thair barnys, thair biris, thair bernyardis, thair cailyardis, thair plewis, thair harrowis, and the guids and houses that is necessair for thair sustenatioun and weilfair.” [wary is another word for curse]

photo by Bernhard Stärk from Pixabay

Did Dunbar’s curse cow the rievers? According to the 1898 book Border Raids and Rievers, by Robert Borland, minister of Yarrow in the Scottish borders, no. He said, “. . . the launching of this ecclesiastical thunderbolt really created more amusement than consternation. It was regarded simply as the growl of a toothless lion.”

Sadly, I haven’t found a place for this awesome growl of a curse in any of my stories yet, though I live in hope. But I think I do finally have a spot for the story of William Buckland (Oxford University’s first ‘professor’ of geology, 1784-1856), his crocodile, and his wife’s pie crust. It should fit nicely into a book I’ll be working on two books from now, and I can hardly wait.

picture by Bianca Van Dijk from Pixabay

Molly MacRae writes the Haunted Shell Shop Mysteries, the Highland Bookshop Mysteries, and the award-winning, national bestselling Haunted Yarn Shop Mysteries. Visit Molly on Facebook and Pinterest, connect with her on Instagram, Threads, and Bluesky.