The Ballad of Thomas Tyne

The Ballad of Thomas Tyne

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  Adrian Grzegorz Poniatowski

  The Ballad of Thomas Tyne

  There was once a lovely girl in Lincolnshire,

  her name was Margaret, as sweet as a flower.

  Her heart was kind, her life was merry, she

  loved mother and father and brother like any.

  One day she went into the forest, to pick

  a little berries, to gather a few mushroom s

  for the family supper. And on her way she heard

  a sad cry, and rushing she found an old woman

  alone and desperate.

  The woman asked, "Childe,

  would ye be so kind, give a poor woman drink

  from cool and flowing stream?" Margaret did

  say, "O lady, wait no longer! Drink from skin

  that swings about my side." So the girl gave

  the woman cool drink to satisfy deep thirst,

  but for this charity she was with trechary

  repaid, for the woman was not born of mother,

  but was demon in disguise. The witch snatched

  poor Margaret, screaming betwixt trees, bound

  her with enormous strength, and disappeared

  into lair close-by. There, the witch did wish

  to see the child suffer, before she ghost released,

  so the witch with infernal suprise, did devise

  three tortures to end her life.

  "Now you are

  in my power, little one. No one can aid you

  in your flight. Only I can release you back

  to longing home, if you complete but minor task."

  At this, the child's ear pricked up, "Oh what?

  Oh what should I do to gain such favor, to

  return to mother, father, and my brother?"

  Thereupon the witch took from rags a satchel,

  searched it and opened pouch. From this a powder

  as white snow spilled out upon the ground.

  "These are two crystals bound in one: take

  each and divide without error. If you shall

  do as I command, tonight you shall return

  without harm. But if you fail, or foul this

  with dirt, add or subtract iota therefrom,

  finish you appointed task after sunfall,

  I shall cut hand from you and crush a bone."

  With this, she disappeared to hunt some more.

  Poor Margaret fell to ground, looking at the

  pile, and she despaired and cried, saying:

  "Look at this! This is but dust that is the same!

  She lies, she must, for this is her design,

  to bring me to my doom through torment and

  home's desire. O God, be just, let your mercy

  be upon me! Let not this devil have her way!"

  And God hear the child's cry, the Lord had

  pity upon His little one, and appointed angel

  one of His, a man called Thomas Tyne. That very

  day he set out from city with his wares, carrying

  his art so very far away, and while passing he

  heard poor Margaret's cry, and hastened on his way.

  He found the child, curled in a ball, softly

  crying now, and said, "Dear child, come out!

  I'm old doctor Thomas Tyne."

  The child was at first

  scared, saying, "You are witch! You are lying

  form, designed to trick me, destroy me before

  day is gone!" But Thomas spoke, "No, my child,

  I am from Lincolnshire, called by King to his

  academy in London. I was on my way when I heard

  dread screams of lost child. There, in the east

  is the road and my horse. I shall deliver you

  to the house you are from." Then arising, the

  child more trusting, took the hand of Thomas

  and went, but no more than a fathom did she go,

  her hand slipped from Thomas' lame. "I cannot

  go further, my limbs disobey!" And Thomas saw

  and said, "It must be witch's spell that does

  these wonders! She must break the bond she

  established between you and lair." Margaret

  spoke, returning to the lair, "She bade me

  separate this powder, white as snow, into

  two crystals without fail, or else she will

  cut my hand and crush a bone!"

  Thomas took

  the powder in his hand, examined it with

  interest, then said, "Child, let me pluck

  this thing apart. But not by hand, but by

  air I shall accomplish this." So he took

  the powder and mixed it with a liquid,

  and began painting chromatograms

  with the water. Margaret looked at this

  new wonder, seeing color come where

  there was none: "Sir, you either angel

  are, or other strange being of the forest!"

  Then Thomas said, "No my child, I am

  mere servant of the Lord, a disciple

  of Nature. There is yet we have to know,

  colors unseen, that come about from clarity."

  Then he placed the mixture in a little pipe,

  and blowing hard he dripped it one by one.

  He cooked the drops over fire, and at last

  he had fourteen little piles of white where

  there was once one. Combining the first

  seven, and the last seven into two piles,

  he spoke: "Now, Margaret, present these

  pristine piles to the witch. Tonight for sure

  you will be whole and free again." So he

  left her, hour before sunset, but went not

  on his way, for a whisper of his conscience

  told him the demon would break not bone

  but word, and keep poor Margaret in pain.

  So he hid amidst the brambles, concealed

  well his wares and put the mare to slumber,

  and peered upon the lair to see the demon's

  treachery.

  The witch came back empty-handed,

  and dread bloodthirst shone in her pits of eyes,

  like the tongues of hell lapping the damned.

  She sought consolation in the thought the girl

  would fail and suffer, but when she came into

  the hole, she found Margaret standing with two

  piles. The girl with tired eyes said, "Here you go,

  one crystal pure in left, the other in my right.

  Two keys, as you did promise, to let me go

  whole and free home." The witch in disbelief

  looked upon the piles, taking one and then

  the other, stared at her in wonder. "Not one

  has yet survived this test," she thought, "she

  sought and found the aid of someone I don't

  know." And in her heart she did conspire to

  lure the angel that saved poor Margaret, kill

  two for price of one and whet her dark greed.

  So the witch said, "My dear, you must have

  employed wise skill and industry to divide

  the two without error. Come, take my hand,

  I will let you go." Unsure, Margaret took the

  witch's hand, but going away from the lair,

  again she froze mere fathom from the prison,

  unable to take another step.

  “What, o child,”

  the witch said with a grin, “you wish to stay

  a little longer? Or is it your body is too frail

  to move another step?” This time the paroxysm

&n
bsp; took even Margaret’s speech, so she was silent

  as the witch took a vial from her bosom.

  “This elixir will cure your mute tongue, life

  again infuse in your limbs. Take it, and return,

  drink the medicine to the last drop. But beware,

  half is health and half is death: these, then, you

  must separate again.” And poor Maragaret,

  unable to speak a word, came back to the hole

  while the demon disappeared to prey on the

  beings of the night.

  No cry was heard this time,

  just silent tear glistened on the girl’s cheek,

  and Thomas knew all he had to do. From bush

  he arose, cautious for his life, for he knew the

  demon hatched some plot, to take the girl and

  him as well to their graves. He took the vile,

  and told the child: “Behold, these I shall separate

  by fire.” Then he took a fife and round flask,

  added bottom to a fire, and let the whole boil,

  till the vapors dripped into a goblet, then another,

  according to their rising. Thomas wafted one

  that smelt of rotting flesh, and the other as a

  pleasant scent. The sweet smelling one he threw

  away, and upon touching flower turned it grey,

  and the second he beckoned Margaret drink.

  He held her, though she thought the foul water

  held her final drink, Thomas urged her, and

  she felt her tongue move again. “Awful!” she said,

  “But blessed are you, Thomas Tyne. Now I am

  sure you are God’s justice and wrath for her.”

  Thomas Tyne said, “O Margaret, the justice

  is not yet accomplished, she lurks still about.

  And I doubt you will be able to pass beyond

  the fathom-reach. Go again, and try.” But she failed.

  “Now I must devise another way for her to break

  the bond that holds you fast. I fear it be a dreadful

  thing, but I must send her back from whence she came.

  No power on earth shall inspire in her charity, she

  fears no justice, thinking she is so clever. Stand

  where you lose your power, while I hunt the hunter.

  When you feel you hand move again, run home,

  and thank the Lord your Savior.” She nodded in

  assent, and Thomas disappeared into the night.

  Thomas took to his wares, opened the chest,

  and took his own portion of watery poison.

  Close to heart he hid the weapon, liquid fire,

  and strode unheard through the wood. He knew

  not where to find the witch, what her ways were

  in the night, if the shadows gave her strange power

  to show her true form and being. But in right hand

  he held his scapular, in left his clutched the vial,

  till the night-sky wheeled round and the dawn

  was rising in the east with prophesying color:

  by then he wandered to the edge of wood, where

  he saw a figure moving slowly, holding killed

  chicken in her claw. He hid, and the witch looked

  back at the village arising from slumber, the little

  children going out to field and meadow to do

  their daily chores. What hath transpired in her mind

  Thomas knew not, but the witch sat and began to cry.

  “Now is the time,” he thought in his mind, and

  he poured the vial’s content into bottle. He went

  onto the wood-road, and saw the witch, still wailing,

  sitting in the brambles on some odd stuff-pile.

  “Well, you could be my mother, poor woman!

  Why do you cry so, and wake the dead from slumber?”

  “O, good sir,” the witch replied, “be kind and give

  assistance, to tired distraught widow. So long

  denied my dower, I was forced to roam the lands,

  water and herb alone sustain me. Give, kind sir,

  a drink of water to vagabond, to exile, and I shall

  tire ye no more.”

  Then Thomas drew the bottle,

  offered it with smile, “Have your fill and live,

  poor woman.” She drank with awesome thirst

  to the last the deadly brew, for though it like

  water tasted first, in instant it turned to eating

  acid, which mixed and churned, broke the walls

  of stomach and throat. In frightful yell, like few

  there were before and after, the body of the witch

  burned, bubbled, and melted before his eyes,

  but he looked away from the horror, lest the

  apparition haunt him. When this was done,

  little Margaret twitched finger first, then hand,

  then putting foot before foot she ran the league

  home within a quadrant.

  Her mother, father,

  her brother held the child close, the child

  once lost and found again. Heaven so rejoiced

  that the dawn broke with golden vigor, to gild

  the fields and timber walls with precious glow.

  And in the distance, to the east, where the road

  leads far away from Lincolnshire, stood old

  Thomas Tyne to collect his mare and wares,

  and off he rode, to happy life and service.