Stuart Interviews Book of the Month Award winner author Alison J. Butler

Interview: Stuart Laing and Alison J. Butler

The Hanging of Margaret Dickson

April 2015 Book of the Month Award

It is my very great pleasure to welcome Alison J. Butler to The Review. First of all, allow me to congratulate you on The Hanging of Margaret Dickson; it is a great book and fully deserving of being selected as The Review's Book of the Month for April. For those who don't know, you have had an interesting journey to become an author--tell me a little bit more about yourself...

Alison in her modelling days

Hi, Stuart, thanks for the congrats, I really appreciate your kind words. My journey becoming an author? It certainly didn't happen overnight, that's for sure. From a small child I read voraciously. My mum introduced me to Daphne DuMaurier at a very young age, so in short, I've always loved literature. Reading is just as important to me as writing. 

But back to becoming an author...writing did not occur to me for many years; I was born into a musical family, and for many years I worked as a professional singer. This career choice did not bring me any sense of pride or self worth, however, so while working as a singer (and rearing my four children) I returned to college. First I took A levels, then I studied for a degree in social sciences, and then while researching the history of crime and punishment, I stumbled across a small excerpt about a woman who survived a hanging. This true tale inspired me to write my first novel...but first I had to learn the craft of writing, which I'm still learning today! 

  

And of course, Margaret Dickson herself is an equally interesting woman. How would you describe her? 

  

Maggie was a true survivor - literally (she survived a hanging). She had grit and true spirit. Her job as a fishwife afforded her much freedom as her husband was constantly at sea...basically, Maggie could do as she pleased. During the 18th century in Scotland there was strict Kirk control, but fishwives and street hawkers such as Maggie tended to get away with such scandalous behaviour, as their job required them to be loud, bawdy, anything to sell their wares! 

However, there are some things even the fishwives and street hawkers could not get away with, and so when Maggie's promiscuous behaviour led her to the path of ruin, her fate was sealed. Maggie was human, flawed, a woman who loved and embraced her wild and reckless impulses, and could not be reformed - even after she was hanged.  I admire her for that. It's also worth mentioning that if Maggie had not been a peasant and a lady of quality, she would never have been hanged. Her true tale is a prime example of the 18th century's practice of 'punishing the poor.' 

  

Of course Maggie is just one great character in the book; did you have any other favourites from the rich and varied cast you presented to the reader? And was there any one thing about Maggie's story that grabbed you and made you want to tell her tale? 

The fishwives of Musselburgh

Most of the characters in my novel are indeed real people relevant to Maggie's story. Patrick Spence, Maggie's husband...the surgeon Munro, Bonaloy - the assistant minister, are all well documented in 18th century records. Also, in the course of my research, I discovered that William Bell, Maggie's lover, was in fact much younger than Maggie - and her 'toy boy'.  One of my favourite characters in the novel is in fact one of my only fictional characters, Widow Arrock - the reason I like her is because she's grumpy and a bit of a battle axe.

In terms of what grabbed me regarding Maggie's tale, and compelled to write her story was the sheer incredulity of it. Not only did Maggie survive her hanging; her husband, despite her many infidelities, forgave her. I thought that was amazing.

Also, in the course of my research, I discovered that Maggie gave birth to a son - James Spence, 10 months after her hanging. 

The Hanging of Margaret Dickson is a book rich in detail of Scotland in the early 18th century; how much time did you spend researching the history and the people? I know you were permitted to hold the final verdict of the jury during her trial which was still sealed. How tempted were you to open it and take a look?

  

In short, I spent many many years researching Scottish history before putting pen to paper. I also studied 18th century social history, crime and punishment and maritime history. I have a keen interest in the lives of peasant folk and don't care much for the aristocracy and ruling classes of bygone times. In truth, I would never invest so many years to researching a novel again, but it hasn't been time wasted. The judicial court records at the National Archives of Scotland? I was NOT tempted to open the sealed verdict envelope with wax seal intact; I was astonished that the staff asked me if I wanted to. It had remained like that for 300 years. How could I? We all know she was hanged anyway! 

Getting back to the writing itself if I may, tell me a little about how you write. Is there a particular time of the day that you prefer, or is it simply a case of just writing whenever the mood takes you? I know several authors who can just sit down and rattle off several thousand words at the drop of a hat but personally I need to give myself a long run-up to a writing session. How hard, or easy, do you find the writing process?

Writing in general...I wish I had some sort of structure, but I don't. I write in fits and bursts, anything from 500 to 10,000 words. I edit previous chapters constantly, probably too much...but luckily I never suffer from writer's block. With lots of kids in a house, I recently bought sound cancelling headphones, as I prefer to write in silence - they were a good investment!

One unusual result of your book is that you have been immortalised on a huge mural depicting the execution of Maggie Dickson. I saw the mural while it was still a work in progress last August on the Grassmarket in Edinburgh. Do you know if it will be back on public display in the future? Was posing for the painting like travelling back in time to your modelling days again?

The mural on display in the Grassmarket: Alison can be on the left as Maggie by the gallows. 

Posing for the Grassmarket mural was a huge honour and not at all reminiscent of my modelling days. (Hair modelling was very boring.) Meeting the artist, Chris Rutterford, who is a lovely man, was so exciting, as was chatting with passersby who wanted to know more about Maggie's incredible tale. The 32-foot mural was split up after completion, and sections of it are in shops on the Westbow and CandleMaker Row to be viewed by anyone. I suppose the real buzz for me is that Maggie 

Work in progress taken by myself last August
(Photo courtesy Stuart Laing)

Dickson was once again resurrected in the Grassmarket, and I had become a part of that...Maggie is very dear to me. And for obvious reasons, so is the Grassmarket and Musselburgh.

What would you say is the best thing about being an author? And of course, the flip side of that particular coin...the worst thing about it! Is there any advice you wish you had been given before you started writing? And is there anything you would advise to a new writer yourself after your own experiences?

The best thing about being an author, for me, is the ability to create something from nothing...plots, characters, twists, conversations, fantasies ...the list is endless. Also, it's such a wonderful thing to know that my novel or stories give readers (hopefully) pleasure. My novels , if I'm fortunate, will live on after I have passed; this gives me such a sense of pride, something I never had while singing - even when being praised. In truth, I still don't think myself worthy of the label 'author' - it's almost as though I haven't earned that honour yet.

Downsides to writing ... of course writing is solitary, and can take you away from family. I do find myself withdrawing from people, and wishing that I could become a hermit (mainly so I'd get more done.) Also, jealous reviewers, Internet trolls, they can be a real pain. My view on reviews is if you want to leave a review and be critical, don't be nasty; constructive criticism is fine, as are negative reviews - of course we cannot be expected to be liked by everyone. I've learned to ignore nasty reviews that only serve to hurt and humiliate. One more downside is in my case, having too many story ideas buzzing in my head, I would do well to concentrate on one project at a time.

Finally, and this is what I personally really want to know: what is next from Alison Butler? Thank you so much for taking the time to talk with me today.

What's next? I'm aiming to release books two and three this year, and my debut novel has been optioned for a TV series or film. So hopefully The Hanging of Margaret Dickson will be on the big screen soon, fingers crossed.

Advice to new writers... write about what you are passionate about, because it will show in your writing. Also, never give up  no matter what folk say - if you truly want to become a writer, nothing will prevent you ...develop a thick skin and learn to take criticism. Be meticulous with research and READ, READ, READ, aspire to be as good as your literary influences. I wish you the best of luck. Alison Butler XXX 

Many thanks to you for taking the time to chat with us today. I am sure that more people will be keen to learn all about Maggie's amazing story. And I look forward to reading more from you in the future.

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Be sure to see Stuart's review of The Hanging of Margaret Dickson located here, and comment there for your chance to win a free copy!

Stuart Reviews: April Book of the Month: The Hanging of Margaret Dickson

The Hanging of Margaret Dickson

by Alison J. Butler

Reviewed by Stuart S. Laing

I approached this story thinking I knew the rough background to the legend of Half Hangit Maggie, the poor woman who died on the gallows of Edinburgh's Grassmarket only to be found alive in her coffin a few hours later. Alison Butler has done a simply wonderful job of adding flesh, blood and bones to that famous story. Her writing breathes life into a fantastic array of characters who bring real colour and drama to the book, and it is easy to lose yourself in the rich reek of the harbour at Musselburgh as fishwives clean their catch amid the jumble of creels and nets, or the heady stink of Edinburgh where thousands live cheek by jowl in a city with little or no sanitation.

Narrow Wynd in Old Edinburgh
The woman with the basket on her back
is a fishwife as Maggie was.

I found myself being drawn deeper and deeper into the story by the skilful use of fact and fiction to create a satisfying whole. Butler's research and deep love of the story shines through and adds real depth to the book along with a plethora of details, which just adds to the overall picture. Wonder no more why women go out on hen nights before their weddings! Or why sailors don't wish to be between the Devil and the deep blue sea!

From Maggie's childhood, the loss of her mother, her wild, rebellious teenage years and her marriage, at the age of only 17, which brings more disappointment than pleasure for the headstrong Maggie, we follow her life through its ups and downs. It is her undoubted desire to enjoy the finer things in life which leads her into flirtations with prostitution but through it all she always finds herself going back to her husband. It is to Butler's credit that she still manages to have you rooting for Maggie despite her wilful and wild ways. It would be so easy to view her as a deeply unsympathetic character who thinks only of herself without consideration for her husband or children. And there are times as you read the book that you find yourself shaking your head at her behaviour wishing she could just be satisfied with her lot, but that is not Maggie's way. Yet through it all Alison Butler paints her protagonist so well that you still fall for her charms and faults that could so easily have made her a deeply unlikeable character.

When her husband is press-ganged into the Royal Navy, it is Maggie's turn to believe she has been abandoned. Her journey southward with the intention of looking for him in Newcastle will prove to be her undoing. The events which follow will give birth to both a sickly infant destined to a short life and the start of Maggie Dickson's place in Edinburgh's folklore and history.

Edinburgh Tolbooth by St Giles on the Royal Mile. It was here Maggie awaited execution.

Even though the book is moving towards the inevitable date with the gallows of the Grassmarket you find yourself hoping that somehow Maggie will mend her ways. Unfortunately, history cannot be changed and the descriptions of the Tolbooths in Kelso and Edinburgh will leave you scratching yourself at the image of bodies crawling with filth and lice and chained in unlit, stinking cells.

Eighteenth-century Scotland lives and breathes through the pages of this book. From the stink of the midden to the tantalising aroma of French perfume this a book which fills your senses, and like a rich broth leaves you satisfied.

Bravo to Alison Butler for a job well done.

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About the Author:

Alison Butler was born in Liverpool, England in the 1970s. She's worked as a checkout girl, bar-maid, model and singer. Alison is married to Dave Butler and has four children - Whitney, Belinda, Isabella and Oliver.

Alison worked for over ten years in the entertainment industry, working as a professional singer. Following the birth of her fourth child she gave up singing to study for a social sciences degree.

While researching for her dissertation, Alison stumbled across a small excerpt in a history of crime and punishment book. It briefly described the true story of a woman named Margaret Dickson who survived a public execution. This incredible story inspired Alison to write her debut novel, using 18th century judicial court court records, broadsheets and marriage/birth certificates.

She can be followed on Twitter here.

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Alison J. Butler has very kindly agreed to gift a kindle copy of   The Hanging of Margaret Dickson to one lucky winner. To be entered into the draw just leave a comment below OR at this review's Facebook thread, located here.

The Hanging of Margaret Dickson may also be purchased at Amazon  and Amazon UK. 

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Stuart S. Laing is the author of The Robert Young of Newbiggin Mysteries. He can be found on Facebook and Twitter.

The Home of Hogmanay

Hogmanay fireworks above Edinburgh Castle

A freezing sleet swept over the city of Edinburgh, chilling the frozen people of the city as they hurried through grey streets below a greyer sky. The slush under their feet splashed wetly, sending icy shards upwards to soak stockings and trousers alike. The prospect of getting to work and out of the cold was almost something to look forward to on a morning such as this.

Today was the 25th of December but while those in England and elsewhere celebrated the birth of Jesus Christ, here in Scotland it was just another miserable winter's day to be endured.

Oliver Cromwell may have cancelled Christmas in the dim and distant past but this was Scotland in the 1950s. Christmas Day itself remained a normal working day until 1958. Boxing Day wasn't recognised as a holiday until even more recently. Christmas, if not banned, was at the very least discouraged and celebrations took place behind closed doors far from prying eyes. 

The Church of Scotland had decreed as far back as 1583 that as the Bible made no mention of any celebrations, and any attempt to mark the day was to fall prey to the evils of the Roman Church. Their evilness knew no bounds and those who celebrated were probably in cahoots with Auld Nick!

With Christmas offering the Scots no opportunity to party, they had to look elsewhere for something they could sink their teeth into. Fortunately hot on the heels of the 'English' celebration came the end of the year. Here was something the Presbytery couldn't find fault with and the people of Scotland seized it with a will and made it their own. That urge to claim ownership continues to this day. You may know it as New Year's Eve, Old Year's Night but in Scotland we know it as Hogmanay!

Why Hogmanay and what does it mean?

No one seem entirely certain where the word comes from although there are several theories. The Scandinavians' feast before Yule was called Hoggo-nott, while the Flemish word hoog min dag meaning 'great love day' fits the tradition of kissing complete strangers on the stroke of midnight at the end of the year. Or possibly Hogmanay may come from the Anglo-Saxon Haleg Monath ('holy month'). Alternatively it could well be from the French Homme est né' or 'man is born'. In Normandy gifts exchanged on the last day of the year were called hoguignetes. Somewhere in there may be the origin of Hogmanay. Feel free to choose whichever pleases.

Certain traditions have remained unchanged over the centuries. One of the most important is First Footing. It is considered lucky that the first person to cross the threshold after midnight should be tall and dark, although handsome is optional. In former days the First Footer would bring whisky, food and a lump of coal for the fire. These days there is little need for coal but the greeting of 'Lang may yer lum reek' persists.

Any housewife would also make sure she had redd oot her hoose before The Bells. If you were going to have visitors after all, the last thing you would want was folk thinking you keep a dirty house and so it would cleaned from attic to cellar.

Dancing in the streets

Another tradition was to gather in public places as a community to welcome in the New Year together before going round the doors as parties were held to which it was normal for the door to be open to all comers.

The famous street party held on Princes Street in Edinburgh is simply the commercial version of the tradition. Other towns without formal street parties make do with the people organising things themselves. Music, drink, dancing, food, drink and of course drink feature heavily in all these bashes. Did I mention they involve mammoth amounts of drinking?

If there is one thing which unites people almost everywhere in the world these days from Beijing to Moscow, London to New York, Adelaide to Edinburgh is a song written by a lowly ploughman from Ayrshire, it is of course 'Auld Lang Syne.'

So as the Bells chime out the end of one year and the birth of the new, raise a glass, mug, tankard of your favourite tipple, welcome in 2015 and remember, 'Wha's like us? Damn few, and they're all died!'

--Stuart S. Laing

The Best of the Review: Favorite Posts from the First Half Year (Volume IX)

Anchorage, Alaska: Tent City in the run up to Christmas 1916~~Lisl

(From the Great Land series)

Simon Stirling writes ...Where do you start?  There have been so many great posts, and such a variety, that I needed to narrow down my criteria if I was going to make a choice. I'm naturally drawn to nonfiction, and so one of Lisl's fascinating pieces about Alaska and its history was a must.  After plenty of umming and ahhing, I settled on her brilliantly illustrated post about Tent City (Anchorage) in the run up to Christmas 1916.

"No other part of the earth known to man surpasses
Alaska in imposing and beautiful scenery."--John Muir

The city of Anchorage, located in the Southcentral region of Alaska, lies within a bowl along the Cook Inlet and is overlooked by the Chugach mountains to the east. Although Russians had an established presence in the 19th century, Alaska Geographic notes settlements of the Dena'ina people, possibly as early as 500 AD (Volume 23, Number 1).

 The late Dena'ina elder Shem Pete remembered seeing the tents of Anchorage for the first time in 1914 (AG). The white tents had begun to spring up in response to talk--and later confirmation--of a western route selected for construction of a federal railroad from Seward, south of Anchorage on the Kenai (KEE-nigh) Peninsula, to the region of Alaska known as the Interior. This tent city was located under a bluff now known as Government Hill, and rested on land subject to siltation and vulnerable during earthquakes. By June of 1915, according to Michael Carberry quoted in AG, "more than 2,000 souls packed the short-lived settlement."

Though it was 1920 before Anchorage became incorporated, men looking for work didn't wait around to establish lives in their new location. After a short time it was determined that more women and families were needed and indeed they came. Conditions were harsh but life was conducted and the people of Anchorage wasted little time isolating themselves. The Pioneer-News (later Anchorage Daily Times) published its first issue in May of 1915. Perusals of the ADT's archives by late 1916 show a people who remembered their origins, but looked forward to the future and where they were then, which included living life as typically as they would anywhere else. Adverts are seen in the issues of the day for bowling alleys, pool parlors, cafes, hotels, barber shops, photo studios, furniture, sweets, banking, cigars, candies and fruits, auto service, lumber, druggists, packing companies, toys, books, periodicals, glassware and more. 

They also wished to keep up with goings-on in the world, especially as by this time the Great War was raging around the world. As Christmas 1916 approached the people of Anchorage lived a sort of dual life: attempting to maintain standards and create satisfying lives whilst simultaneously coping with hardship and bad news.

Click here to continue reading...

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The Strange Case of Mr Brodie and Mr Hyde~~Stuart Laing

(From the Edinburgh History series)

Edinburgh is a city which lends itself to notorious characters both real and fictional. From the body snatchers Burke and Hare to Inspector Rebus, all have trod on the cobbled streets of the Old Town, but one criminal from the 18th Century has been remembered with a pub, a play, a close (alley), a song and a film all named after him. His name? William Brodie.

Born the son of a well respected and much admired cabinet-maker young William followed in his father's footsteps and became a skilled cabinet-maker in his own right. With the death of his father William inherited not only the business but also a huge sum of money.

This sudden wealth allowed William to experience all those finer things in life which had previously eluded him and he quickly became firmly hooked on gambling, boozing and whoring his way through the best brothels, gambling clubs and pubs on the dark and dangerous streets of Edinburgh. All of this was unknown to those who continued to seek his services as both cabinet-maker and locksmith, and through the good name of his father he was eventually invited to become a member of Edinburgh Town Council which earned him the title of Deacon Brodie: the title by which he is best known today.

Unfortunately for the now Deacon Brodie, the inherited wealth was rapidly running out and with a string of mistresses and several illegitimate children to care for he was placed in a quandary of his own making. He could forego the High Life, knuckle down and make the best of a bad situation through hard work and frugality with the little money he had left, or he could seek an alternative means to maintain his wild lifestyle.

Unfortunately for the now Deacon Brodie, the inherited wealth was rapidly running out and with a string of mistresses and several illegitimate children to care for he was placed in a quandary of his own making. He could forego the High Life, knuckle down and make the best of a bad situation through hard work and frugality with the little money he had left, or he could seek an alternative means to maintain his wild lifestyle.

His skill at cabinet-making meant he was never short of work and added to his skill was his position and title which meant that the Great and Good of the town were only too happy to employ him in their own homes. Unknowingly they were inviting the devil in with their smiles and kind words. Brodie took full advantage of their trust to make copies of their house keys and spy out what was valuable and where it was to be found at a later date.

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The Best of The Review: Favorite Posts From the First Half Year (Volume VII)

Captain Burnet Rises to the Challenge~~

Jayne adds in today that she chose this post because it involves Edinburgh, her favorite British city. 

The history of Edinburgh's Town Guard stretches over almost 270 years and was marked by several highs and lows. Like all groups it served as home to the honourable and the villain in probably equal measure, although it is mainly the villains who are generally remembered (Captain Porteous for example). But today my attention is focused on the last man to hold the office of captain of the Guard: James Burnet.

Captain James Burnet

By day Burnet ran a grocer's shop at the head of Fleshmarket Close but when on duty he struck an imposing figure in his redcoat and white britches, weighing in at the impressive weight of 19 stone (270 pounds) and unlike many of his predecessors was not a military man. He was, despite his large size, a most active fellow who far preferred to spend his Sunday mornings walking near and far rather than squeezing his body into the confines of a pew for divine service. In Chambers Journal it is alluded that Captain Burnet was one of the Turners, so named from their habit of taking a turn (a stroll) on the Sabbath.  “About One O'clock,” reports the Journal, “Mr J. L might be seen cooling it through Straiton at the head of a slow procession of bellied men, his hat and wig held aloft on his cane and a myriad of flies buzzing and humming behind his shining pow. Perhaps Captain B(urnet) of the City Guard is of the set. He has a brother at Woodhouselee and they intend to call there and be treated to a glass of spirits and water for really the day is very warm.”

Captain Burnet was also a well-known member of the Lawnmarket Club, one of dozens of gentlemen's clubs which abounded in Edinburgh over the centuries. The Lawnmarket Club is described in Chambers' Traditions of Edinburgh to be a set of dram drinking, gossip mongering facetious group of men who meet each morning about seven o'clock by the post office to learn all the latest news and then retire to a nearby tavern for a refreshing glass of brandy.

Captain Burnet, it should be said, was not known to join in this early morning debauch and was more interested in learning the latest news and political machinations than anything else. However these early morning starts and regular walks ensured that the gallant captain was an active sort of fellow who was ever ready to face any challenge. And it was for this that we celebrate his memory today. 

A challenge was presented to him by a certain James Laing, Deputy City Clerk, who said that it would be impossible for Captain Burnet to climb from the King's Park to the top of Arthur's Seat in less than fifteen minutes. Those who are familiar with the great mass of grass and stone at the foot of the Royal Mile will understand that this is no mean feat for even the fittest and youngest of us to undertake, never mind a middle-aged man of huge proportions. Burnet, of course, at once accepted the wager.

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Marsha's Special Feature: An Interview with Bestselling Author Elizabeth Chadwick 

More favorites! Elizabeth Chadwick, Jayne declares, is one of her favorite authors. (And who doesn't love a great interview?)

I am honored to welcome bestselling historical fiction author, Elizabeth Chadwick.  Elizabeth was kind enough to answer a few questions about her writing, research, favorite authors, and much more. The first book I read by Elizabeth was The Greatest Knight, a novel about the extraordinary knight, William Marshal. Thus began my love affair with the Marshal and his sire, John FitzGiIbert. FitzGilbert's exciting life is told in Elizabeth's wonderful book, A Place Beyond Courage. The research and authenticity that Elizabeth puts into each book is amazing, which is one of the reasons she is often my go-to author when I want a brilliant read. Having just finished Elizabeth's newest book, The Summer Queen, a tale about Queen Alienor of Aquitaine, I am anxiously awaiting the second book of the trilogy coming soon, The Winter Crown.

 Hello, Elizabeth, and thank you for agreeing to answer a few questions.

Q: Have you written any other novels in collaboration with other writers? 

No, it’s always my own work.  I have adapted a film script though. I was asked by Columbia Pictures to adapt the script from First Knight starring Sean Connery and Richard Gere and turn it into a novel as part of their marketing process for the film.  Daughters of the Grail started life as a one page film treatment, but I had to provide the main story and work it up into a novel.  The film never got made – as is the way with these things so many times.  But the above are the nearest I have ever come to working with anyone else.

Q: How much research do you do? 

How long is a piece of string!  I began researching when I was 15 when I started to write my first novel about a character in the Holy Land. I knew very little about the 12th century Middle East and I wanted my book to feel as real as possible, so I immersed myself in the research to world build the stage on which my hero and heroine were going to interact. In the story they return to life in the Angevin Empire under Henry II, so I had to research the European aspect as well.  I was never, ever as diligent about the WWII history homework being handed out at school at that time! 

 I am never not reading about my historical period.  As well as the need to know material, just browsing the era for fun is tremendously rewarding and deepens my knowledge. If you are going to write about 12th century people then you owe it to them, your readers and yourself to make them as of their time as possible.  My research is in depth and inter-disciplinary.  So I read primary sources, secondary sources, archaeology reports, I visit locations where possible and I also re-enact with a living history society to get a feel for the period.  I use online research as well, but you have to be careful.  There are some fantastic resources out there but also a lot that give out unreliable information.  You need a kind of ‘garbage radar’ to keep you safe online!

Q: Do you ever get any ideas about something to write by photos you have, or 
places you remember?

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The Best of The Review: Favorite Posts From the First Half Year (Volume III)

A Riotous Affair~

I love this post by author Stuart S Laing because it reminds me of one of my favourite highwaymen films, Plunkett and McClaine. This is a story of an 18thc gang of merry men, whose criminal activities helped the less well of classes and their outrage at them being brought to the gallows and subsequent fight for justice against the wicked Porteous and the Toll Booth prison. I could imagine this being made into a film. Any film producers out there reading this, take note! ~Paula Lofting, author of Sons of the Wolf

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Edinburgh has over the centuries seen many a grim affair darken its famous old streets and had reason to be thankful for the forces of Law and Order being on hand to protect the innocent, and to punish the guilty. Just occasionally however the roles were reversed and it was the defenders of the innocent who were the guilty. One such man, who was to earn the abiding hatred of Edinburgh, was Captain John Porteous of the Town Guard. When it seemed his crimes against the people of the city were to go unpunished, it was the people who delivered justice. The story begins on a dark night, not in Edinburgh, but on the other side of the Firth of Forth in the Kingdom of Fife...

The Porteous Rioters descends the West Bow (now Victoria Street)

THE ORIGINAL CRIME

On the night of 9th January, 1736, Collector of Excise James Stark rested at an inn in the fishing village of Pittenweem, Fife but no sooner had he settled down for the night than he was shaken from his slumber by loud banging on his room door. The noise was caused by a smuggler, Andrew Wilson, and a compatriot attempting to force entry, intent on robbing him. Wilson's other partner in crime, a fellow smuggler named George Robertson waited downstairs acting as lookout.

Realising what was happening, Stark managed to grab one bag of excise money before he jumped from a window and hid in a nearby stable where he spent the cold winter night buried under a heap of straw.

Wilson and his fellow thieves, having finally broken the door down, made off with £200 Stark had left behind along with some personal items such as his Bible. Wilson, Roberston and the third man, Hall, then made their way east but were quickly apprehended in the nearby village of Anstruther only a few miles along the coast, where Stark's £200 and other belongings were recovered. The three men were speedily shipped over to Edinburgh, where they were thrown into the city's notorious Tolbooth Prison to await trial. The Tolbooth Prison stood on the Royal Mile, in front of St Giles Cathedral. Hated, and feared by the people of the city, the Tolbooth was well known for the terrible conditions and cruelty which happened within its grim walls.

When the trial came, the men claimed that the robbery had been a spur-of-the-moment affair. The magistrates, however, were not fooled by this and Hall quickly pointed the finger of blame at his comrades and admitted their crimes. Wilson, Robertson and Hall were all found guilty and sentenced to death by hanging. Hall later had his sentence revoked in return for turning King's Evidence against Wilson and Robertson. Sentence was set for Wednesday, 14th April 1736.

On Friday, 9th April 1736, Wilson and Robertson attempted to escape the Tolbooth. The two smugglers had been provided with saws by visiting friends, which they used to cut through the window bars. Friends of Wilson and Robertson dressed up as women and sang psalms loudly in the Royal Mile to cover the noise of the thieves escape. Wilson insisted on going first but got stuck in the window and was still lodged firmly halfway in, halfway out when the guards arrived.

Click to continue reading…

The Adventures of Merlin~

I chose this piece because of its sheer awesomeness. Who on earth else but Lisl could turn a TV show into a magical review such as this. I stopped watching Merlin after the second episode because it just wasn't happening for me anymore. I had initially enjoyed it. This review made me go out and obtain the whole series! Which I haven't got round to watching yet! But it's high on my list. ~Paula Lofting, author of Sons of the Wolf

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I actually don't watch a lot of television---not because I am a TV snob, I just don't have a great deal of time--and as a result never bothered to invest in cable. Amusing consequences involved my then-six-year-old son asking me, "What is a commercial?"I was slightly happy he had to ask me this, but later I thought about the vilification of television and settled on the conclusion I'd always done: That television isn't so bad, and in fact can be a worthy tool, but it matters how you use it. Even if for entertainment, I have found it can be used in concert with sneaky little educational insertions, and my now-ten-year-old turtle is the one who actually led us to this particular case. His success in persuading me to sign up for a TV/movie streaming subscription found me one evening, bone tired and flipping through the choices until I saw the word "Merlin," at which point I hastily clicked. For I am fan of Merlin since childhood and still recall dragging my mother to all the libraries in the region to collect books I'd looked up that had anything and everything to do with Merlin and King Arthur. Life having gotten a bit in the way of these pursuits, I nevertheless remembered my mother's voice, "And yet here we are again..."

“He cannot glimpse his part in the great story that is about to unfold. Like everyone else, he must live and learn.”

So we are told as we watch the young Merlin—known to us from Arthurian legend—climb a pathway on the journey’s last leg from his home in Ealdor to Camelot, where he takes up residence with his guardian and the court physician, Gaius.  Merlin’s introduction to Camelot comes in two main parts: one by witnessing an execution and next by tangling with a boisterous and perhaps bored Prince Arthur, who has him thrown into the stocks. By the first episode’s end, Arthur and his father Uther Pendragon’s opinion of the young boy—unbeknownst to them, a powerful sorcerer—settles to deep admiration and he is awarded with a position in the palace.

Watching this and subsequent episodes required me to settle into the idea of Merlin’s story being told rather differently to the way I’d always been taught. For starters, Merlin is unacquainted with Uther until this day, twenty years into the king’s reign, when he meets an Arthur already grown into his role as heir—there is to be no sword in the stone moment, at least not in the accidental discovery sort of way we know best. Moreover, Arthur’s opinion of the newcomer is rivaled only by Merlin’s view of the prince: “There must be another Arthur because this one’s an idiot.” As we later learn, Camelot itself also existed long before the prince and his father: recorded events trace back at least 300 years. 

I enjoyed the show enough to be fairly delighted by it—and amazed at the accidental events that led me to it—though I did wonder how Uther, so zealously fixated on his war against magic, could at times be so gullible. He eagerly laps up stories told by strangers yet refuses to believe his own son, or Gaius, his trusted physician of twenty years. Nevertheless, Uther does argue some powerful points, such as when he consults Geoffrey of Monmouth re: a knight’s nobility papers, or the need to show strength in the brutal world in which they live.

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The Magic of Robert Louis Stevenson

When asked what my favourite book is these days I would have to confess that I don't actually have any single book which I would claim as the holder of that title. There are simply far too many books which I love to pick any single book out and set it above all others.

I could however list authors whose books never fail to enthral and entertain. Among them, and in no particular order, would be Terry Pratchett and his Discworld novels, Ian Rankin and the Rebus tales, and yes I was heavily influenced to set in my books in Edinburgh through him although 250 years earlier than Inspector Rebus, Lyndsey Davis and her wonderful Roman mysteries with Marcus Didius Falco, Irvine Welsh, Wilbur Smith whether it is his historical fiction or the 'modern' tales set in more recent times, Michael Crichton, Nigel Tranter and many, many others.

Now if I was to add the independent authors who I have discovered over the last few years since allowing myself to explore the hidden gems allowed by KDP/Amazon the list grows at an alarming rate. A very brief list of new authors that I particularly enjoy would include names such as Trish Marie Dawson, KS Haigwood, Kevin Hammond, Shiralyn J Lee, Bon Rose, Lucinda Brant, and the wonderfully talented authors who contribute to this blog. These are only a few which I would recommend but there are dozens more out there to be discovered and loved.

Right! So much for these days. What about when I was younger?

This is a much easier question to answer as one author stands out head and shoulders above all others for me when I was a child. Robert Louis Stevenson. The son of a family better known for its lighthouse designs than literature, he was born in Edinburgh in 1850 and died tragically young at the age of only 44 on the Samoan island of Upolu. While his family built beacons to guide the sailor safely home RLS wrote books which still serve as beacons guiding the reader to fantastic adventures.

I was given a hardback copy of Treasure Island when I was eight years old and despite the plain red faux leather cover it appealed to me straight away. Illustrated with several colour plates depicting pirates and old sailing ships I wanted to dive straight in. And that is exactly what I did. Every book deserves a great opening line and Treasure Island has one of the very best ever set down -

Squire Trelawney, Dr. Livesey, and the rest of these gentlemen 

having asked me to write down the whole particulars about Treasure Island, 

from the beginning to the end, keeping nothing back but the bearings of the island, 

and that only because there is still treasure not yet lifted, 

I take up my pen in the year of grace 17__ and go back to the time when 

my father kept the Admiral Benbow Inn and the 

brown old seaman with the sabre cut first took up his lodging under our roof.

Instantly you are placed there in the tavern with the mysterious scarred sailor and wonder what the story can possibly be about this island and its unknown treasure. Treasure Island is one of those books which all writers of historical fiction aspire to match. Its cast of characters have entered the popular imagination and there can be few people who can't instantly picture the figure of Long John Silver in their own mind whenever they hear his name. The book has been adapted for the big screen an incredible number of times from Robert Newton's masterful portrayal of Silver right through to the Muppets adventures on the island and even on spaceships in the depths of space. This is in no small measure due to sheer number of stand-out scenes which fill the book from cover to cover.

Yes, if you had asked me at the age of ten what was the best book ever written I would have replied Treasure Island without even pausing for thought...but then I discovered Kidnapped!

Suddenly the tales of English country gentlemen and dastardly pirates in the Caribbean paled in comparison with a full blooded adventure set right here in my own country, Scotland! For probably the first time I was reading about places I knew and had visited personally in something other than a history text book at school. Edinburgh Castle, South Queensferry, Hawes Inn, Culross, Rannoch Moor! These were all places I had visited but suddenly I was looking at them in a wholly new light. No longer were they simply beautiful places to visit for a day trip in a car but they lived and breathed on the page before my eyes.

The adventures of David Balfour after his betrayal by the villainous Ebenezer Balfour of Shaws soared before my ardent eyes with the grace and power of a Scottish eagle over the high mountains of the Highlands. The heroic, if flawed, Alan Breck Stewart and his mentions of the murderous battle of Culloden only drew me further in and suddenly I began to view Scottish history not as something dry and dull which my teacher droned at us in class but as something vital, something alive and which burned with passion and real flesh and blood. Stevenson was one of the authors who creates a spectacle so vividly with his words that you can feel yourself shivering on the cold shores of an island off the west coast of Scotland or breathing the peat smoke of the fire in Cluny's Cage and then hiding below a gorse bush on the wilderness of Rannoch Moor while a party of English Dragoons scour the landscape for you.

Other than the scenes set in the majestic Scottish Highlands the scenes which had the greatest appeal for me were those set in Edinburgh. Auld Reekie is a city which lives in my heart and that draws me back to her embrace time after time. Some may see her as a being like a woman with an elderly face that relies on the days of her youth to attract admirers but all those who have experienced the pleasure of her company and come to know her can see that beneath the facade she is still beautiful, still young and vibrant, with a lust for life and a passion for all that life has to offer. To walk the streets of Edinburgh is to walk in the footsteps of history. From Robert the Bruce to Mary, Queen of Scots, to Bonnie Prince Charlie, to Walter Scott and Stevenson himself, you will see the sights and breath the same air as they did. From the tourist hotspots on the Royal Mile to the hidden gems in quiet backstreets there is so much she offers to both the local and visitor alike. That is why I love her and place her above all others.

So there you have it. My contribution to what our inspirations and favourite books are. If you have read either or both of these books I am sure you will have enjoyed them every bit as much as I have repeatedly and if you haven't, then I would urge you to do so at the earliest opportunity!

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Stuart Laing is the author of The Robert Young of Newbiggin Mysteries.

 His blog can be followed at 

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Major Weir - The Wizard of the West Bow

Edinburgh has had many notorious criminals through the centuries; some achieve a sort of immortality by having pubs named after them such as Maggie Dickson or Deacon Brodie. Other become the focus for the silver screen such as the serial killers Burke and Hare where their deeds are retold in a dozen different ways. Others however seem to have largely slipped from the public mind despite being almost too notorious for words in their own day. One such figure who seems to fit that category is Major Thomas Weir – The Wizard of the West Bow.

Born in Lanarkshire at the end of the sixteenth century little is known of his early life other than he served as a lieutenant in the regular army suppressing rebellions in Ireland before returning to Scotland in the 1630's. He was one of the signatories to the Solemn League and Covenant which called for the protection, by any means, of Scottish Presbyterianism from any outside influence, chiefly Charles I and his attempt to introduce an Anglican style of worship in the Church of Scotland. 

The signing of the National Covenant in Greyfriars Kirkyard

To protect their vision of the true faith the Scots formed the Covenanting Army which Thomas Weir enlisted in and rose to the rank of major earning a reputation as a reliable and able commander of men on the field of battle.

At the age of 50 he retired from active service in the field and took up position as commander of Edinburgh's fledgling Town Guard. However it was his time in the Army of the Covenant which seems to have shaped the remainder of his life. He was imbued with the fiery zeal of the evangelist and would preach long and loud to anyone who would listen about the snares set by Rome and Satan for the unwary Protestant to fall into. From his home on the West Bow which ran from the Lawnmarket down a steep doglegged slope to the Grassmarket and where he lived with his sister Grizel, he would hold powerful prayer meeting with like minded Calvinists earning the group the sobriquet The Bowhead Saints. Such was Weir’s prominence in the Presbyterian community that it was said “if four met together, be sure Major Weir was one.” 

Physically he was an imposing figure standing six foot tall with a long lean body always dressed in dark clothes with a long black cloak sweeping around him and his face was turned to the ground below a wide brimmed black hat. Along with his ever present cloak and downcast eyes was a long staff of black wood carved into fantastical designs surmounted by the image of a satyr's head which he held tightly whenever he led a divine service. This staff would return to haunt him in more ways than one.

The first indication that perhaps not all was quite right with Major Weir came one evening as the clocks rung out midnight across the rooftops of Edinburgh in 1670. A young woman and her maid returning home from assisting her sister deliver her baby in the Lawnmarket had to pass Weir's house. As they approached they heard the sound of wild revelry from within where three strange women were seen laughing, shouting and applauding. More alarming was the Amazonian figure of a woman said to be twice the height of any other who stood at the foot of the stairs leading to Weir's door. This giantess began to walk before them cackling unnaturally and jerking her body wildly until the unwilling followers reached a narrow close which the strange figure ducked into. Somewhat alarmed by the presence of the cackling figure the woman and her maid cautiously peered within to see the stinking alley illuminated by burning torches and ringing with the sound of several people cackling madly. More alarming was the fact that no one could be seen. Needless to say both women rushed home where they reported the frightening experience to the husband.

Major Weir's on the West Bow

The next day he and friends retraced their steps but finding no evidence of trace of the weird figure or torches they turned their attention towards the house of Major Weir. None was prepared to approach him openly but a whispering campaign that something wasn't normal about the house or its occupants began to spread.

Perhaps a week after the encounter the women had suffered Major Weir fell ill and was confined to bed for several weeks. Seeming to recover he announced he would lead a prayer meeting and his fellow Bowhead Saints and a crowd soon gathered for the expected sermon issuing fire and brimstone onto the sinners. What they got though left them open-mouthed in horror and disgust as Major Weir launched into a foul tirade where he described decades of sexual abuse and depravity before their astonished eyes. Worse than that, to them at least, was the revelation he had conjured demons and held Black Masses in order to be granted power by Satan himself.

Thinking that the poor man had taken leave of his senses the crowd attempted to cover up what had been said but this was Edinburgh where gossip could travel from Castle Hill to the foot of the Royal Mile faster than a man could run. Weir's confession was overnight the sole topic of every conversation and while certain prominent figures wanted the whole thing hushed up lest it reflect badly on the Presbyterian faith it was too late to stop the wagging tongues.

Sir Andrew Ramsay, the Lord Provost of Edinburgh, soon learned of Weir's words and while he personally held no stock in the claims believing them too monstrous to be true did order that doctors examine the major for evidence of a 'distempered brain'. Much to the Provost's surprise, and to many others, the doctors could find no proof of illness and now left with no choice due to public clamour Sir Andrew had Weir arrested.

As if things were not bad enough for Thomas Weir already his sister Grizel now decided that she too must confess her sins. She claimed that from the age of 16 she and Thomas had been lovers and she had always assisted him in his spell-making and wizardry. She further claimed that Satan had once sent a coach drawn by six steeds made of fire and smoke to their door which carried them to the town of Dalkeith where they met Satan in person who told them that a Scots army alongside their Royalist allies had been defeated by Cromwell's forces at the Battle of Worcester. They had returned to Edinburgh where Major Weir spread the news of the defeat several days before any other word had reached the city. What had been then as proof of his religious zeal where he received divine news it was now seen as evidence of the supernatural. It was also now claimed that the ever present staff had been a gift from their dark master and had been the source of his skill as an orator.

Both brother and sister were sent for trial and found guilty of witchcraft, incest and various other crimes against Man, Nature and God and were sentenced to death.

Thomas was the first to be executed. He was taken from the Tolbooth by St Giles to Gallowlee, a spot between Edinburgh and Leith where he was told to pray for forgiveness. He refused to do so and said, “let me alone, I have lived as a beast and I shall die as a beast!”. He was strangled to death and his body and staff thrown onto a bonfire where both were claimed to have roared and writhed in the flames as further proof of the evil being consumed by fire. No one seems to have considered the possibility that Major Weir had not been fully finished off by the executioner and had still lived when cast into the flames.

Grizel was to be spared the flames and for her the end would come on the gallows on the Grassmarket not far from her home. The day after Thomas' death she was led down the West Bow to the great open space where she addressed the crowd bravely but then caused further scandal by trying to strip herself naked before death. The hangman had to restrain her and then carry her up the ladder to the noose while she tried all she could to resist him, even sticking her old head between the rungs of the ladder until he could finally get the rope around her neck. With a final heave Grizel Weir was sent from this world into the next.

Whether the Weirs were Satanists or just two old people suffering from mental illness is impossible to determine now. Medical examinations would not meet standards these days so the findings of no sign of illness by the doctors must be taken with a grain of salt. You must decide for yourself what you consider the truth to be.

Most people now felt that with the deaths the matter could be quietly forgotten but the story about the laughing women at Weir's window and the cackling giantess were already firmly rooted in the public imagination. As the years went by and the house remained empty the stories only grew: lights had been seen within the tall buildings, the sounds of revelry were commonly heard and faces were said to have been seen stared balefully down at passer-bys. Occupants of the West Bow were awoken by the sound of an unseen coach and horses thundering down the road and the tap tap tap of the Major's staff could heard as it made its way through the dark wynds and closes of town. 

The shop with the blue front marks the location of
Major Weir's house before it was removed

Perhaps it is understandable then that the house with its haunted reputation should have stood empty for almost a century before anyone was brave, or foolish, enough to wish to live there. A former soldier named Patullo and his wife rented the house but on the first night as they lay in bed a strange light formed in their bedchamber which coalesced  into the shape of a calf which placed its forelegs on the end of their bed and observed them for some time before fading away. They left the next day never to return.

The house continued to stand empty until 1870 when redevelopment in the area saw the destruction of the house to make way for further improvements to Victoria Street and Terrace. Whether the occupants of the shops which now stand on Victoria Street have reported any spectral activity is unknown to me.

To celebrate the release of the latest Robert Young of Newbiggin Mystery - Major Weir's Dark Legacy -- on Saturday 8th February I will be giving away an eBook copy on Friday 7th. To be entered in the draw for this and have the chance to receive an advance copy of the book before general release simply leave a comment here or on the Facebook page before next Friday midday GMT

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Stuart Laing is the author of The Robert Young of Newbiggin Mysteries.

 His blog can be followed at 

stuartslaing.wordpress.com