The Last Sottai

In the dark caves of Remouchamps, deep beneath the earth of the Val d’Amblève, dwelt a people of small, gentle beings: the sottais, also called nutons. These mysterious creatures were no larger than children, with kind countenances and compassionate hearts. They hid themselves from mortal eyes, yet their goodness was essential to the welfare of poor farmers in the surrounding fields.

The sottais labored without visible hands. At night, when mortals slept, they would perform household tasks and assist with harvests. They repaired tools, tended animals, and made the heaviest burdens lighter. All they asked in return was simple: food, left at the entrance of their cave. Bread, grain, sometimes a cup of milk. The sottais were merciful to those who treated them kindly, but they were vengeful toward those who mistreated them.

In these magnificent caves of Remouchamps, the sottais were, as legend tells, the true inhabitants of the valley. Mortals came and went, but these beings were eternal, devoted to their secret work of kindness and compassion.

Then came the times of war. Prussian soldiers swept through the land in the wake of Maria Theresa’s conflicts. These rough soldiers heard of the sottais and their magical caves. Rather than showing reverence, they were blinded by mockery and cruelty. They determined to drive the beings from their refuge.

With barbarous methods, the soldiers placed burning straw and bundles of branches at the entrance of the Remouchamps cave. Smoke filled the tunnels. The sottais, suffocated and humiliated, attempted to flee through the chantoirs – the underground sinkholes – of Adseux, Rouge-Thier, Coq, and Grand-Champ. Yet many could not escape. They perished in the smoke and ash, their bodies abandoned in the darkness.

As they fled, the surviving sottais sang a farewell song. It was a hauntingly beautiful dirge, filled with sorrow and curses. They sang of their gratitude to the people who had abandoned them, to those mortals who stood indifferent, some even laughing. Their voices echoed through the stone like the weeping of ghosts. After that, they vanished forever, their magic withdrawn from the Amblève valley for all time.

Yet one sottai remained behind. His name was Glawenn, and he would not leave the cave. While his people fled through underground waters to distant sanctuaries, he clung to a single reason: his love for a girl named Garite.

Garite was only twelve years old when she, lost in the valley, encountered Glawenn. The small being had found her lost lamb and gently brought it home. In gratitude, the girl kissed Glawenn upon his brow. For him, that moment lasted forever. In the heart of a sottai, love can grow far deeper than the groundwater upon which they dwell.

Years passed. Garite grew into womanhood and married a farmer named Thomas. Glawenn – still inhabiting the caves – pursued his love in the way only a sottai could: he continued to help Garite, her, and her family, always from the shadows. When Thomas cursed his poor rye field in desperation, it was Glawenn who worked in silence to save the harvest.

One day, in desperation, Thomas cursed his rye field. "I give this field to the devil, with everything upon it!" he cried out. He did not realize that his young son Pierre stood in that very field. The devil accepted the curse. From that moment, the field began to grow miraculously, and Pierre grew supernaturally strong, his strength increasing like an unnatural power.

At last, the devil appeared before Thomas, hungry for both treasures – the harvest and the boy. Thomas, desperate, proposed: a contest. Each would bring a disguised animal, and the other must guess what it was. Then each would set a natural task that seemed impossible. If someone failed, he would lose everything.

In panic, Thomas confided all to Garite. She whispered with Glawenn, who immediately devised a plan. The sottai covered himself with glue and feathers from every conceivable bird – an impossible creature to guess. At the contest, the devil showed his disguised goat. Thomas, coached by Glawenn’s wisdom, guessed correctly. But the devil could not discern what Glawenn was. He thought it was a monkey. When Glawenn revealed himself as a sottai, the devil was astounded.

For the second task, Thomas gave the devil a curly hair from Glawenn’s head. "Straighten this hair," he demanded. It was impossible – it could never be done. The devil, enraged, then set his own task: "Throw him – Glawenn – into the raging waters of the Adseux!"

Glawenn accepted his fate. He heard Garite, hidden in the underbrush near the torrent. With the courage of true love, he waved to her. He placed his hand upon his heart, spoke her name – Garite – and with one final smile, he let himself fall into the raging waters.

The torrent pulled him deeper and deeper, through passages of stone and water, back to the cave of Remouchamps where he was born. According to the tale, his body at last finds rest in those eternal caves, surrounded by the water that had carried him home forever. Glawenn, the last sottai, had given everything for his love.

Later, when Marcellin la Garde set down this tale, he spoke with Urbain Germain, who confirmed the story was essentially true – though he hinted that the "devil" might not have been real, and Glawenn "not truly a sottai." But what do we mortals know of such mysterious matters?