Where Dragons Soar: And Other Animal Folk Tales of the British Isles

by Castle, Pete;

  Jack rode as fast as he could for hundreds and hundreds of miles until night started to fall. Then he saw a small light glimmering in the distance, perhaps 100 miles off, so he rode on until he came to a house. It was a witch’s house.

  The witch welcomed him and said ‘Come in king’s son. I know your fate and why you are here. I doubt I can help you, but I will try.’ She put him in the ash hole – the rubbish hole under the fire – to hide, and then she went away.

  Jack had only been in the ash hole for about twenty minutes when there was a commotion outside, the door of the house flew open, and in rushed the Black Dog of the Wild Forest howling and breathing fire out of his mouth. He was followed by the old witch and her little dog, who set upon the Black Dog of the Wild Forest. The witch beat him and the dog bit him until he ran away.

  ‘You can come out now,’ she said. ‘This is my little dog Hear-All and we have chased your enemy away. It’s safe for you to come out and have something to eat.’ The witch gave Jack a delicious meal and, in return, he gave her a lot of money. Then she said that she had a sister who lived about 300 miles away. If the boy could get there then she might be able to tell him how he could avoid his fate. ‘To help you on your way,’ she said, ‘I will give you the bread out of my mouth and my little dog Hear-All.’

  So Jack got on his horse and galloped away with the little dog Hear-All running beside him, and he rode and he rode until he felt his horse growing tired. He slowed and looked back and there was a speck in the distance. It was the Black Dog of the Wild Forest getting closer and closer. He galloped on until he came to the second sister’s house.

  Once again Jack was hidden in the ash hole while the witch went to do battle with the Black Dog of the Wild Forest, and if they had fought hard the first night they fought many times harder the second. When the Black Dog of the Wild Forest had been sent scuttling off the witch fed Jack and said, ‘My young prince, I will do for you as well as I can: I will give you my dog Spring-All and I will give you this rod. Now mark well what I tell you – you must follow this ball of wool and it will lead you straight to a river. When you reach the river you must strike the water with the rod and, straight away, a bridge will spring up. Cross the bridge and immediately strike the water again and the bridge will disappear. Don’t forget, and the Black Dog of the Wild Forest will not be able to follow you across.’

  So Jack rolled the ball of wool and followed after it in the direction it showed him. Soon he heard panting behind him and he could see the Black Dog of the Wild Forest racing after him, but he reached the river and struck the water with the rod. Immediately a bridge like a rainbow sprung up across the river and Jack galloped over. When he reached the other side he remembered to strike the water again and the bridge faded into nothingness just as the Black Dog of the Wild Forest was about to step on to it.

  Jack now found himself in a thick forest and the further he rode into it the thicker and thicker and wilder and wilder it became. He feared he would be lost forever and die in this wilderness, but at last he came out into a clearing, and there stood a castle. Jack went and knocked on the door of the castle and was invited in and made welcome. The next day the king of the castle took Jack hunting and they killed many birds and several creatures – it was a good day’s hunting.

  Now the king had a daughter, and Jack and the daughter liked each other immediately. She told Jack that the thing the king most desired was a bridge over the river which would make life in his castle very much easier. So he took her down to the bank to show her what he could do with his rod. She was very impressed, and was so intent on showing Jack how pleased she was with the bridge that he forgot to make it disappear again, and that night the Black Dog of the Wild Forest came over the bridge and went to the castle and made itself known to the queen.

  Now the queen did not like Jack and she definitely did not want Jack to win the heart of her daughter, so she listened to what the Black Dog of the Wild Forest had to say. He told her that Jack would be going hunting in the forest again the next morning and that he planned to attack and kill him there. But he needed the queen’s help. He told her to fasten Jack’s two little dogs, Hear-All and Spring-All, in the cellar so that they couldn’t follow.

  ‘I will follow Jack into the forest,’ said the Black Dog of the Wild Forest, ‘and I will attack him there, and Jack will kill me and bring me back draped over the saddle of his horse. When you see this you must ask what he is going to do with my body and Jack will say he is going to burn it. And Jack will burn my body to dust. Then you must get a small stick and poke around in the ashes until you find a small bone – a lucky bone – and you must take it and, when Jack is asleep, you must drop it into his ear. Then Jack will be dead and you can take him and bury him and you’ll never see or hear any more of him.’

  The next morning Jack and the king went hunting again and Jack called and called to his little dogs Hear-All and Spring-All, but they didn’t come and Jack was worried for them. And then along came the Black Dog of the Wild Forest who attacked Jack and, after a terrible fight, Jack slew the Black Dog of the Wild Forest and draped it across the front of his saddle and set off back to the castle.

  When he reached the castle the queen came out to meet him and saw the body of the Black Dog of the Wild Forest hanging from Jack’s saddle and she asked him what he was going to do with it. ‘I’m going to burn it,’ said Jack. ‘Burn it to dust.’ And he did, and then he retired to bed and the queen took a stick and scratched through the ashes of the fire until she found a small bone – a lucky bone – and she took it and crept into Jack’s room where he lay sleeping and she dropped the lucky bone into his ear, and in the morning Jack appeared to be dead, so they took him and placed him in a coffin and they buried him in the graveyard.

  A few days later, the parson saw two little dogs moping around by the side of Jack’s grave and asked whose they were. When he learned that they were Jack’s he decided that they needed to raise the coffin up and look inside it – and there was Jack lying dead. But little Hear-All leapt into the coffin and licked the bone out of Jack’s ear and Jack sprang up as well as could be.

  Jack went back to the castle, where he killed the queen and married the princess. Then, with his bride beside him, he mounted his horse and galloped off towards to his own land and his parents. As he was riding along, little dog Hear-All, who was running alongside his horse, said to Jack, ‘Come down and cut off my head.’

  ‘I couldn’t do that,’ said Jack, ‘for all the kindnesses you’ve done for me.’

  ‘If you don’t then I will eat both you and your bride,’ said little dog Hear-All, so Jack jumped down and cut off little dog Hear-All’s head. He rode on a bit further, crying for the loss of little dog Hear-All when little dog Spring-All called out, ‘Jack, stop and come down and do the same to me or I will eat both you and your bride.’ So Jack stopped and cut off little dog Spring-All’s head.

  Jack and the princess had not ridden much further, all the time lamenting the loss of the two little dogs, when they heard riders behind them and they were met by the two most handsome ladies they had ever seen. ‘Why are you crying?’ asked the ladies, and Jack told them it was for the loss of his two faithful little dogs.

  ‘Would you know them if you met them again?’ asked the ladies, and Jack assured them that he would. But he was mistaken, because one of the ladies said, ‘I am little Hear-All and this is little Spring-All and we will be happy to go with you.’ And they all rode back to Jack’s parents’ castle where he and his wife lived happily and little Hear-All and little Spring-All lived with them as their faithful friends and companions.

  3

  AS WILD AS A WOLF,

  AS WILY AS A FOX

  Wolves

  In folk tales members of the dog family are often interchangeable. In different places the same story appears, but with a different animal named – here it is a fox, there it is a jackal; here a wolf, there a coyote …

  Man’s relationship with the wol
f has always been ‘difficult’ – fear alternates with awe. It’s hard to say when wolves became extinct in Britain, for they died out at different times in different parts of the country. Wolves probably died out in England around 1500 – except perhaps in the wildest parts of the Peak District. In Scotland it was probably in the eighteenth century, although one was reported in 1888. But reports of wolves have continued long past these dates. Could they be true or are they wishful thinking?

  One of my own most magical animal experiences was (almost) meeting a wild wolf in a forest in Central Europe. It was high summer and my wife, Sue, and I had stopped for a picnic in a glade halfway up a mountain. Suddenly everything seemed to go quiet and across the glade behind Sue strolled a wolf – out of the trees, across a few yards of open grass, and then it disappeared again. It did not look our way, although I am sure it knew we were there. It just walked by, minding its own business, almost as if we were not worthy of its notice. Sue knew nothing about it until later when I told her. People have suggested that it was a dog, but wolves and dogs look and move very differently, as you will know from all those films where they use German Shepherds as very poor stand-ins for wolves!

  HOW WOLF LOST HIS TAIL

  One day Wolf and Fox were out together taking a look around and searching for an easy supply of food. They found a farm where someone had placed a dish of porridge on a windowsill to cool, so without a moment’s hesitation, they knocked it down and lapped it up. Wolf was by far the larger of the two animals and had long legs and sharp teeth so he ate most of it and Fox was left to lick out the bowl. Fox resented this and decided he’d get his own back.

  A few weeks later they were out together again. It was a cold, icy day and the sun was going down. Up in the deep-blue sky the full moon could clearly be seen and Fox saw it reflecting in the ice in the farmyard pond. This was his chance. ‘I smell cheese,’ he said, ‘and look, there it is.’

  ‘But how will we get it?’ asked Wolf, ‘It’s very near the farmhouse.’

  ‘You wait here,’ said Fox, ‘I will scout round and see if it’s all clear. If you sit on the cheese that will make sure no one else comes and sees it.’

  So Wolf sat down on the cold ice and covered the ‘cheese’ with his long, bushy tail. Fox was gone a long time and the night got colder and colder and the ice froze thicker and thicker and Wolf’s tail froze to the ice on the pond where the ‘cheese’ had been.

  When he thought enough time had passed, Fox ran to the farmhouse and quietly woke the farmer. ‘Come quick,’ he whispered, ‘the Wolf is in the farmyard and he’ll eat all your chickens. He might even eat up your children!’

  The farmer and all his men came out with sticks and pitchforks, shouting and making such a noise that Wolf, who had been half asleep, almost jumped right out of his skin. Luckily for him he didn’t, but when he jumped up to run off he did leave most of his tail stuck in the ice.

  And that’s why, now, Wolf’s tail is nowhere near as grand as Fox’s brush.

  THE WOLF OF ALLENDALE

  It was just before Christmas in the year 1904 and the sheep farmers around the Northumberland village of Allendale had taken to stabling their flocks every night to try to prevent the losses they had been suffering for the past few weeks. Several dead sheep had been found and they were obviously the kills of a large predator. All that was found of one ewe was the head and horns. Other sheep that survived the attacks had wounds around their necks and on their legs.

  Then a culprit was found – a wolf had escaped from the estate of Captain Baine of Shotley Bridge. But it was found that Baine’s wolf was a cub, only four and a half months old, so not capable of doing much damage. It probably hadn’t survived for very long by itself, so it couldn’t be the guilty animal.

  Everyone was talking about the wolf and gradually reports began to filter in: someone had spotted it in a field; someone else had found tracks; a den had been found … and then a large, imposing grey wolf was seen near Allenheads School. That was dangerous. The people feared for their children. Wolves rarely attack adults but a small child might be a different matter.

  Hunting parties were assembled, growing larger each day; 100 men, 200 men, with dogs and guns. Rewards were offered. Famous hunting and tracking dogs were enlisted. Big game hunters arrived to prove their prowess. But no wolves were found, or even positively identified. The whole thing began to take on the atmosphere of a folkloric ritual – hunt days were holidays, people came in fancy dress, toasts were drunk and songs were sung!

  Over the next few weeks the wolf was reported several times. People had seen it in a field or jumping over a wall. Every description was different as regards size and colour. More dead sheep were found. Could there be a whole pack of wolves working in the district?

  In January the body of a dead wolf was found on the railway tracks at Cumwinton near Carlisle – not too far away. The local papers denied that it was the Wolf of Allendale and the Wolf Committee were certain that the Allendale pack was still active. In some way, they wanted it to be. But then, as the months went by, interest waned; there were no more kills, no more sightings, no more dead wolves were found.

  The whole story gradually faded from interest. Had it been just that, a story? Or was there a Wolf of Allendale?

  Werewolves

  The ‘Wolf of Allendale’ seems to be the straightforward tale of a real animal – a wolf, or perhaps a dog, attacking flocks. But there are some stories about wolves that don’t seem to be quite ‘natural’.

  The Black Dog of the Wild Forest was a pretty frightening beast. A wolf could be even more frightening, but worst of all must be a werewolf. Werewolves are supposed to be people infected with a ‘disease’ which makes them turn into a wolf when there is a full moon. (There are also werefoxes, werecats and all kinds of other strange beasts!) They then go hunting for flesh, preferably human. Anyone who gets bitten, but not killed, catches the disease and, in turn, becomes a werewolf themselves. Historically, werewolves have been a European phenomenon: in France, Germany, Bohemia and so on, rather than British. They’ve become very popular in Britain and America in recent years though, particularly amongst young people.

  Our stories are far older, but before you read them we have a decision to make: we have to decide whether a werewolf is animal or human. If it is 100 per cent human then it doesn’t belong in this book; if it is even partly animal it does. I have come to the conclusion that, for most of the time, the person afflicted with lycanthropy is a normal human being but with an animal’s instincts lurking just below the surface. However, at full moon, or when stimulated in some other way, he or she becomes completely an animal, but is more dangerous than most animals because the creature also has the guile and intelligence of a human being. So we will allow it …

  AN ALMOST HUMAN BEAST

  It was just after dusk and there was a full moon down near the horizon, a strange blood-red moon. People saw it and were frightened. They thought it was a sign that something evil was at large. The inns and drinking houses were full of people talking and speculating as to what it might mean. On the road from Denbigh to Wrexham a stagecoach was making its way along as fast as the two horses could manage. Suddenly, an enormous black creature, almost as long as one of the coach horses, appeared from nowhere and leapt at the coach causing the horses to shy and the coach to overturn. The beast then started to devour one of the horses while the other broke free and galloped off in panic. This was in the winter of 1790.

  A few months later, in early 1791, a farmer went into one of his fields and in the snow saw prints that looked like those of an enormous wolf. He called on the blacksmith to accompany him and they followed the trail for about two miles to a neighbouring farm, where they came upon a scene of horror. The trail led them to a snow-covered field which was like a lake of blood, dotted with the carcasses of sheep and cattle. There was also the body of a farm dog.

  They went to the farmhouse and found it locked and barricaded. They banged and called and e
ventually managed to persuade the terrified farmer to open the door and let them in. He told them that he had heard a sound in the yard and when he went to investigate he saw a huge, wolf-like animal ripping the throat out of his dog. When the creature saw the farmer it went for him, but he managed to escape into the house and bolt the door. He hid under the table while the creature banged on the door, almost as a man would. It banged so hard that he was afraid it would knock it off its hinges. Then the most frightening thing of all happened: the creature rose on to its hind legs and peered in through the window. Its eyes were blue and it looked intelligent and human.

  All the local people gathered at the church and prayers were said, before groups armed with guns and pitchforks went out to hunt for the beast. Nothing was ever found, apart from more tracks.

  THE DERBYSHIRE WEREWOLF

  In the far north-west of Derbyshire, on the borders with what is now Greater Manchester but was Lancashire and Cheshire, the Monk’s Road runs through Longdendale. It was built by the monks of Basingwerk to travel between that town and their abbey near Holywell in North Wales. Somewhere along that road there used to be a large stone called the Abbot’s Chair on which the Abbot of Basingwerk sometimes sat to hold court – to hear the complaints of his people, to dispense justice and to collect tithes and rents.

  Long ago, in the reign of King Henry II, the abbot was doing just that. Towards the middle of the day there appeared before him a poor old woman. She was supporting herself on a stick and sobbing and was almost unable to walk with misery. She told the abbot that she had an enemy who was making her life unbearable and she had no idea what she’d done to deserve it. Through witchcraft, this woman – this enemy – had already brought about the death of the old woman’s husband and her children; her cattle had all died; her crops had failed and now she had no way of supporting herself. She was penniless, had no way of feeding herself and feared that she too would soon be dead.