Archive for the ‘Legends’ Category

A rose by any other name…. 

Even the briefest study of the bluebell, after which the folk song, Arthur Pryor’s showcase trombone solo, and my own novel, are named, reveals many monikers: campanula rotundifolia, Endymionin Latin, harebell, lady’s thimble, fairy thimbles, aul man’s  bells, witches’ bells, the wild hyacinth, Dead Man’s bells, milk-ort (milk herb), or its common name, bluebell.  This, by the way, is probably still not a complete list. 

And yet, it is not the same as the English, or common, bluebell, the hyacinthoides non-scripta.  And despite its name, the Scottish bluebell is not always blue, but comes in shades of purple, pink, white, and cream.

In strictly factual terms, the bluebell grows in clusters of bell-shaped flowers, a perennial which blooms from spring well into the fall, sometimes as late as November.  They are a favorite of hummingbirds, and pollinated by bees, although they are capable of self-pollination.  It is a woodland flower which may spread quickly, but will also grow in cracks in cliffs or walls, and on grasslands and heaths.  They are a hardy flower which thrive with either sun or shade.

As a writer, I find the history, symbolism, and myths associated with the flower far more interesting.  The bluebell, or harebell, is the official national flower of Scotland, although many sources also list the thistle as Scotland’s flower. 

Symbolism:

Humility, constancy, gratitude, and everlasting love in Scotland.  It is also associated with death in Britain and is often planted on graves.

Myths:

Fairies: Bluebells are strongly associated with fairies, as it is said that the fairies ring these tiny bells to summon their people to the fairy convention.  The fairies were rather protective of their bells, and would cast spells on anyone who damaged or picked bluebells, which would explain why it was considered unlucky to walk through a field of bluebells.  What better way to damage them and call down the fairies mischievous spells on your head?  According to others, fairies used the bluebell to trap passersby, especially children.  Some sources say that the bluebell’s properties allow mortals to see fairies, or see into the world of fairies.

Witches: Others claimed that witches turned themselves into hares to hide among the bluebells, explaining not only the hares rampant in the flowers, but bringing about the name harebell.  Some said if you heard the bluebell ring, someone close to you would die.  The bluebell produces a white juice, which was said to be used by witches both for a ‘flying ointment’ and to transform themselves into hares.

Moon Goddess: Wandering farther afield from the British Isles, the bluebell is associated with the shepherd boy Endymion.  The moon goddess, variously called Seline or Diana, fell in love with him and cast an eternal sleep on him so that she could enjoy his beauty alone, forever.

A path between worlds: Most interesting to me is the belief that the bluebell ‘thins’ the walls between worlds and realities.  Folklore warns of the danger of becoming lost in strange states in fields or woods of bluebells, and needing to be led out by another.  One writer suggests that perhaps they do exist in multiple worlds at once: a fascinating reminiscence of the pools between worlds in the Narnia series.  In Blue Bells of Scotland, Niall and Shawn each go to sleep in the castle tower, seven centuries apart, with bluebells present, and wake up in one another’s times.

Medicinal:

The bluebell is, according to many sources, a poisonous plant, once used in ancient alchemy.  Interestingly, its properties are currently being researched for medicinal uses. 

Other sources say that the bluebell is not only edible, but has healing properties, having once been used by the Cree, Chippewa, and Thompson Indians and others, for various purposes: heart, lungs, eyes, and ears; to stop bleeding and reduce swelling; as an anti-depressant, anti-fungal, and a concoction to increase milk supply in new mothers.  It is also associated with preventing nightmares and curing leprosy, tuberculosis, and spider bites.  Quite a lengthy list for one little flower!

I will add, however: Do not try this at home, kids!  It is not medical advice, it is strictly a report on what other sources say.

Association with St. Dominic:

As yet, I have found only that the bluebell is associated with Roman Catholic beliefs and St. Dominic de Guzman, founder of the Friar Preachers, but not why.

I like to think that there is wisdom to be gleaned, lessons to be learned, from everything around us.  In the bluebell, I see a great deal of human nature: the contradictions in all of us, the multi facets, and the fascinating stories that lie, waiting to surprise us if we only stop and listen, behind the most humble of exteriors.

While King Herla is an interesting story in and of himself, I found it even more interesting reading about the many variations on the story, tie-ins to it, extensions on it, and suggestions of who King Herla really was.

The basic story of King Herla, told in last week’s post, is of a king who attends a dwarf king’s wedding, in a deep cavern, and emerges after three days of celebration to find that two hundred years have passed in his own world.

Odin's Wild Hunt

In more detailed accounts, we find out that King Herla goes on to be the leader of the Wild Hunt.  The Wild Hunt is only one name for a concept that seems to be found all over Europe and North America.  The Germans speak of the Wilde Jagd (Wild Chase) and the Wildes Heer (Wild Host).  In Old English, there is the Herlaþing (Herla’s Assembly). Oskoreia or Åsgårdsreia is the Norwegian’s Ride of Asgard, and the Mesnée d’Hellequin (Household of Hellequin) was written of in Old French.  The Welsh told tales of  C?n Annwn, the Hounds of Annwn. 

Even in English, the concept is known by various names: Gabriel’s Hounds, Woden’s Hunt, Devil’s Dandy Dogs, Herod’s Hunt, Cain’s Hunt, and the Ghostriders.

The story, of course, is fairly obvious from the name.  A group of ghostly huntsmen rides forever.  While various tales say they are fairies, the ghosts of the dead, the hounds of hell chasing sinners to the underworld, lost souls, or various historical and mythical figures, seeing them, whoever they are, usually means disaster is on its way, in the form of plaque, famine, war, or the death of the unlucky observer.  If you hear them storming down your suburban street tonight (or any night for that matter), follow the advice in one tale: put your apron over your head and do not look! 

Of course, that’s the usual early medieval interpretation.  Later medieval interpretations tend toward the more romantic view of the night riders (not to be confused with my own Night Writers, please) as fairies.  Still, I don’t necessarily recommend looking closely enough to determine whether the Wild Hunt coming down your street appears to be early or late medieval.

As to who is credited as leader of the wild hunt, there are as many leaders as names for the group itself.  In Scotland, the people of the Blue Bells Trilogywould have known it as King Herla, king of the Britons.  The story dates back at least to Walter Map’s telling of the story in De Nugis Curialumin the late 1100′s.  Other stories, however, tell of the huntsmen being led by Odin in Sweden; Fionn mac Cumhaill in Ireland; Knecht Ruprecht, Perchta or Berchtold in 16th Century Germany, or Frau Holda; in England, St. Guthlac,  Hereward the Wake,  and Woden (he’s a story in himself, being regarded as everything from a god of Anglo-Saxon paganism to a historical king to the prototype of Father Christmas, but that will have to wait).  The most familiar names on this list to modern readers would be King Arthur and the devil, also at variously times named as the leaders of the pack. 

 This is only a partial list.  The full one is quite long.  What I found interesting in researching was that one of the leaders are the ultimate evil (the devil) while several others are associated with Christmas.  Knecht Ruprecht, for example, was said to be the helper of St. Nicholas.  Perchtaroamed the country in winter and during the twelve days of Christmas would enter homes to leave a small silver coin in the shoes of children or servants who had been good.  (Unlike the St. Nicholas who she sounds so very much like, however, if the children or servants were bad, she would slit their bellies, remove their guts, and fill them instead with straw and pebbles.  That’s the Christmas spirit!  (Actually, Perchta herself ranges from benevolent to malevolent in various incarnations of her story.)  As mentioned earlier, Woden is considered by some to be an early forerunner of Father Christmas.

On an interesting sidenote, while Hereward the Wake makes no such claims to Santa Claus-hood, some do argue that his parents were the infamous Leofric of Mercia and his better known wife, Lady Godiva.  In addition with being credited as the leader of the Wild Hunt, some of the legends that grew up around him have also gone on to be retold as adventures in Sherwood, thus making him a bit of a prototype for Robin Hood.

Of great interest to me in studying King Herlawas how many of the stories are very specific withdates, locations, and names.  Although I’m no scholar of legends, I am not familiar with myths and legends typically being so specific, especially in regards to dates.

The story of Herla himself, for instance, is very precise in the shepherd’s dates.  He tells Herla there is a story of a king of the Britons, but the Saxons (of which the shepherd is one) have ruled the land for two hundred years.  It is even more specific in when and where Herla and his wild huntsmen were last seen (or scene, if we want to make a movie of it).  They largely disappeared from England in ‘the first year of the coronation of our King Henry’ (that’s the II), moving on to Wales, and soon after were seen by many witnesses to sink into the River Wye, at Hereford in the year 1133.

Herne the Hunter, another leader, is stated specifically to be a huntsman of King Richard II in the last quarter of the 14thCentury.  He is said to roam Windsor Forest, and very specifically, the Great Park within it.  Ordnance maps have placed the location of the tree from which he was hanged after falling out of favor with King Richard.  Herne makes his first appearance in Shakespeare’s Merry Wives of Windsor and much later, interestingly, also shows up in the 1984 series Robin of Sherwood.  It is fair to say here, of course, that whether he was an actual historical figure is debatable.  The story places him very specifically in history, and yet goes on to tell stories which could hardly be true, of his revival from fatal goring being accomplished by a wizard attaching stag horns to his head.  You can find more details here. 

The Peterborough Chroniclegives a very specific report of a sighting of the Wild Hunt.  For this to have any meaning, it is important to know that the Peterborough Chronicle is one of 9 surviving documents that make up the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, which is regarded as ‘the single most important historical source of its era.  The Peterborough Chronicle reports:

 …many men both saw and heard a great number of huntsmen hunting. The huntsmen were black, huge, and hideous, and rode on black horses and on black he-goats, and their hounds were jet black, with eyes like saucers, and horrible. This was seen in the very deer park of the town of Peterborough, and in all the woods that stretch from that same town to Stamford, and in the night the monks heard them sounding and winding their horns…

A collection of very brief re-tellings of many Wild Hunt stories can be found here.  Happy reading, and keep that apron handy to pull over your face in case you hear any of the many Wild Hunts with any of their many leaders!

In a galaxy long ago and far away…well, make that this galaxy, in fact, this planet, but the long ago part is pretty accurate.  In fact, it was so long ago, that it was long ago even to the people of long ago.  It was that long ago that King Herla lived.

Like all enduring myths and legends, there are variations on the story of King Herla, but the gist of it is this:

 Herla was the king of the Britons more than a thousand years ago.  One day, while hunting in an ancient forest with his men, he met a dwarf with a great red beard, and cloven hooves, riding a huge goat.  “I am a king of many kings and chiefs,” the dwarf told Herla and his men.  “But I have heard of your fame and great deeds, even in my world.  You are worthy to attend my wedding.  We’ll make a compact: even now, the ambassadors of France are arriving at your palace to arrange your marriage to their princess.  I’ll attend your wedding, and a year to the day later, you’ll attend mine.”

It was as the dwarf king had said.  Herla and his men arrived back at his palace to see the ambassadors awaiting him.  The wedding was arranged, and in the midst of the celebrations and feasting, the dwarf king and his people arrived, great crowds of them.  They provided food and drink in vessels of gold and crystal in such abundance that King Herla’s provisions went untouched.  At cock-crow the next morning, he and his people disappeared back to their own world.

A year to the day later, the dwarf king appeared to remind Herla of their pact.  Being a man of honor, Herla and his men selected gifts worthy of a fellow monarch and rode into the ancient forest.  There, a cliff opened before them.  They traveled into a dark tunnel, but soon enough, it opened up into a great cavern of light, seemingly lit by thousands of lamps.  There, Herla and his men celebrated for three days with the dwarf king and his people.

Finally, on preparing to leave, the dwarf showered them with gifts of horses, dogs, and hawks.  In particular, the dwarf lifted up a small hound to ride with Herla on his horse.  “Do not get down from your horses until this dog jumps down,” the dwarf warned.  “Only then will it be safe for you to dismount.”

Herla and his men rode back out of the dwarf’s realm.  Coming out into the forest, they found their world did not look quite as they’d left it three days before.  Disturbed, they rode on, till they found an old shepherd.  “Tell me news of my queen, wife of Herla,” Herla demanded.

The old man looked at him strangely, and finally said, “I scarce understand you, for you are a Briton, and I am a Saxon.”  After some thought, he added, “I have heard such a name.  But it is a very old story, of the wife of Herla.  Her husband rode into the forest to celebrate the marriage of a dwarf king, and was never seen again.  She died of a broken heart.  But that was in the days of the Britons, and the Saxons have ruled England for two hundred years now.”

One of Herla’s men, upset, leapt from his saddle.  He instantly turned to dust, and Herla understood that what the shepherd said was true.  He ordered his men to stay on their horses.  And so they were doomed to ride endlessly, and became the Wild Hunt, roaming the earth forever in their saddles without rest.

Until the first year of King Henry, in 1133, men reported sightings of the Wild Hunt.  In that year, the sightings occured in Wales, until shortly after, many Welsh reported seeing King Herla’s men sinking into the River Wye.  From then, they were never seen again.

The story of King Herla warns us against the trickery of the elder races, such as the dwarves, and the dangers their kingdoms hold even for the greatest among us.

In short, do not go to a dwarf king’s wedding, no matter how much food and drink he brings to yours.