The Book of Were-Wolves - Sabine Baring-Gould (red queen free ebook TXT) 📗
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ring which is under my left hand. You will see the troop of hunters
to-morrow coming to seek me; and when I am dead go to the king, and
ask him to give you what is under the beast’s left front leg. He will
consent.’
“He spoke to her of many other things, till the bear’s form stole over
him, and he went forth a bear. She followed him, and saw that a great
body of hunters had come over the mountain ridges, and had a number of
dogs with them. The bear rushed away from the cavern, but the dogs and
the king’s men came upon him, and there was a desperate struggle. He
wearied many men before he was brought to bay, and had slain all the
dogs. But now they made a ring about him, and he ranged around it.,
but could see no means of escape, so he turned to where the king
stood, and he seized a man who stood next him, and rent him asunder;
then was the bear so exhausted that he cast himself down flat, and, at
once, the men rushed in upon him and slew him. The Carle’s daughter
saw this, and she went up to the king, and said,—‘Sire! wilt thou
grant me that which is under the bear’s left fore-shoulder?’ The king
consented. By this time his men had nearly flayed the bear; Bera went
up and plucked away the ring, and kept it, but none saw what she took,
nor had they looked for anything. The king asked her who she was, and
she gave a name, but not her true name.
“The king now went home, and Bera was in his company. The queen was
very joyous, and treated her well, and asked who she was; but Bera
answered as before.
“The queen now made a great feast, and had the bear’s flesh cooked for
the banquet. The Carle’s daughter was in the bower of the queen, and
could not escape, for the queen had a suspicion who she was. Then she
came to Bera with a dish, quite unexpectedly, and on it was bear’s
flesh, and she bade Bera eat it. She would not do so. ‘Here is a
marvel!’ said the queen; ‘you reject the offer which a queen herself
deigns to make to you. Take it at once, or something worse will befall
you.’ She bit before her, and she ate of that bite; the queen cut
another piece, and looked into her mouth; she saw that one little
grain of the bite had gone down, but Bera spat out all the rest from
her mouth, and said she would take no more, though she were tortured
or killed.
“‘Maybe you have had sufficient,’ said the queen, and she
laughed.”—(Hrolfs Saga Kraka, c. 24-27, condensed.)
In the Faroëse song of Finnur hin friði, we have the following
verse:—
Hegar íð Finnur hetta sær. When this peril Finn saw,
Mannspell var at meini, That witchcraft did him harm,
Skapti hann seg í varglíki: Then he changed himself into a werewolf:
Hann feldi allvæl fleiri. He slew many thus.
The following is from the second Kviða of Helga Hundingsbana (stroph.
31):—
May the blade bite,
Which thou brandishest
Only on thyself,
when it Chimes on thy head.
Then avenged will be
The death of Helgi,
When thou, as a wolf,
Wanderest in the woods,
Knowing nor fortune
Nor any pleasure,
Haying no meat,
Save rivings of corpses.
In all these cases the change is of the form: we shall now come to
instances in which the person who is changed has a double shape, and
the soul animates one after the other.
The Ynglinga Saga (c. 7) says of Odin, that “he changed form; the
bodies lay as though sleeping or dead, but he was a bird or a beast, a
fish, or a woman, and went in a twinkling to far distant lands, doing
his own or other people’s business.” In like manner the Danish king
Harold sent a warlock to Iceland in the form of a whale, whilst his
body lay stiff and stark at home. The already quoted Saga of Hrolf
Krake gives us another example, where Bödvar Bjarki, in the shape of a
huge bear, fights desperately with the enemy, which has surrounded the
hall of his king, whilst his human body lies drunkenly beside the
embers within.
In the Vatnsdæla Saga, there is a curious account of three Finns, who
were shut up in a hut for three nights, and ordered by Ingimund, a
Norwegian chief, to visit Iceland and inform him of the lie of the
country, where he was to settle. Their bodies became rigid, and they
sent their souls the errand, and, on their awaking at the end of three
days, gave an accurate description of the Vatnsdal, in which Ingimund
was eventually to establish himself. But the Saga does not relate
whether these Finns projected their souls into the bodies of birds or
beasts.
The third manner of transformation mentioned, was that in which the
individual was not changed himself, but the eyes of others were
bewitched, so that they could not detect him, but saw him only under a
certain form. Of this there are several examples in the Sagas; as, for
instance, in the Hromundar Saga Greypsonar, and in the Fostbræðra
Saga. But I will translate the most curious, which is that of Odd,
Katla’s son, in the Eyrbyggja Saga.—(c. 20.)
“Geirrid, housewife in Mafvahlið, sent word into Bolstad, that she was
ware of the fact that Odd, Katla’s son, had hewn off Aud’s hand.
“Now when Thorarinn and Arnkell heard that, they rode from home with
twelve men. They spent the night in Mafvahlið, and rode on next
morning to Holt: and Odd was the only man in the house.
“Katla sat on the high seat spinning yarn, and she bade Odd sit beside
her; also, she bade her women sit each in her place, and hold their
tongues. ‘For,’ said she, ‘I shall do all the talking.’ Now when
Arnkell and his company arrived, they walked straight in, and when
they came into the chamber, Katla greeted Arnkell, and asked the news.
He replied that there was none, and he inquired after Odd. Katla said
that he had gone to Breidavik. ‘We shall ransack the house though,’
quoth Arnkell. ‘Be it so,’ replied Katla, and she ordered a girl to
carry a light before them, and unlock the different parts of the
house. All they saw was Katla spinning yarn off her distaff. Now they
search the house, but find no Odd, so they depart. But when they had
gone a little way from the garth, Arnkell stood still and said: ‘How
know we but that Katla has hoodwinked us, and that the distaff in her
hand was nothing more than Odd.’ ‘Not impossible!’ said Thorarinn;
‘let us turn back.’ They did so; and when those at Holt raw that they
were returning, Katla said to her maids, ‘Sit still in your places,
Odd and I shall go out.’
“Now as they approached the door, she went into the porch, and began
to comb and clip the hair of her son Odd. Arnkell came to the door and
saw where Katla was, and she seemed to be stroking her goat, and
disentangling its mane and beard and smoothing its wool. So he and his
men went into the house, but found not Odd. Katla’s distaff lay
against the bench, so they thought that it could not have been Odd,
and they went away. However, when they had come near the spot where
they had turned before, Arnkell said, ‘Think you not that Odd may have
been in the goat’s form?’ ‘There is no saying,’ replied Thorarinn;
‘but if we turn back we will lay hands on Katla.’ ‘We can try our luck
again,’ quoth Arnkell; ‘and see what comes of it.’ So they returned.
“Now when they were seen on their way back, Katla bade Odd follow her;
and she lea him to the ash-heap, and told him to lie there and not to
stir on any account. But when Arnkell, and his men came to the farm,
they rushed into the chamber, and saw Katla seated in her place,
spinning. She greeted them and said that their visits followed with
rapidity. Arnkell replied that what she said was true. His comrades
took the distaff and cut it in twain. ‘Come now!’ said Katla, ‘you
cannot say, when you get home, that you have done nothing, for you
have chopped up my distaff.’ Then Arnkell and the rest hunted high and
low for Odd, but could not find him; indeed they saw nothing living
about the place, beside a boar-pig which lay under the ash-heap, so
they went away once more.
“Well, when they got half-way to Mafvahlið, came Geirrid to meet them,
with her workmen. ‘They had not gone the right way to work in seeking
Odd,’ she said, ‘but she would help them.’ So they turned back again.
Geirrid had a blue cloak on her. Now when the party was seen and
reported to Katla, and it was said that they were thirteen in number,
and one had on a coloured dress, Katla exclaimed, ‘That troll Geirrid
is come! I shall not be able to throw a glamour over their eyes any
more.’ She started up from her place and lifted the cushion of the
seat, and there was a hole and a cavity beneath: into this she thrust
Odd, clapped the cushion over him, and sat down, saying she felt sick
at heart.
“Now when they came into the room, there were small greetings. Geirrid
cast of her the cloak and went up to Katla, and took the seal-skin bag
which she had in her hand, and drew it over the head of Katla. [1]
Then Geirrid bade them break up the seat. They did so, and found Odd.
Him they took and carried to Buland’s head, where they hanged him…
. But Katla they stoned to death under the headland.”
[1. A precaution against the “evil eye.” Compare _Gisla Saga
Surssonnar_, p. 34. Laxdæla Saga, cc. 37, 38.]
CHAPTER IV.
THE ORIGIN OF THE SCANDINAVIAN WEREWOLF.
One of the great advantages of the study of old Norse or Icelandic
literature is the insight given by it into the origin of world-wide
superstitions. Norse tradition is transparent as glacier ice, and its
origin is as unmistakable.
Mediæval mythology, rich and gorgeous, is a compound like Corinthian
brass, into which many pure ores have been fused, or it is a full
turbid river drawn from numerous feeders, which had their sources in
remote climes. It is a blending of primæval Keltic, Teutonic,
Scandinavian, Italic, and Arab traditions, each adding a beauty, each
yielding a charm, bat each accretion rendering the analysis more
difficult.
Pacciuchelli says:—“The Anio flows into the Tiber; pure as crystal it
meets the tawny stream, and is lost in it, so that there is no more
Anio, but the united stream is all Tiber.” So is it with each
tributary to the tide of mediæval mythology. The moment it has blended
its waters with the great and onward rolling flood, it is impossible
to detect it with certainty; it has swollen the stream, but has lost
its own identity. If we would analyse a particular myth, we must not
go at once to the body of mediæval superstition, but strike at one of
the tributaries before its absorption. This we shall proceed to do,
and in selecting Norse mythology, we come upon abundant material,
pointing naturally to the spot whence it has been derived, as glacial
moraines indicate the direction which they
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