THE SCENE: The legend of King Herla is one of the earliest know references to the “Wild Hunt” – a supernatural group of riders and hunters who appear during apocalyptic times. This passage from the medieval historian Walter Map provides the full story of the legend, which also incorporates element of fairies and the underworld.
THE TEXT: One court and one only do stories tell of that is like our own. One of the most ancient of the British kings, Herla, it is said, was on a time interviewed by another king who was a pigmy in respect of his low stature, not above that of a monkey. This little creature was mounted on a large goat, says the tale, and might be describe in the same terms as Pan; his visage was fiery red, his head huge; he had a long red beard reaching to his chest, and was gaily attired in a spotted fawn’s skin: his belly was hairy and his legs ended in goat’s hoofs.
Herla found himself tete-a-tete with this being, who said: “I am the King over many kings and prices, an unnumbered and innumerable people and am sent, a willing messenger, by them to you. I am unknown to you, it is true but I glory in the renown which has exalted you above other monarchs, inasmuch as you are a hero and also closely connected with me in place and descent, and so deserve that your wedding should be brilliantly adorned by my presence as a guest, so soon as the King of the Franks has bestowed his daughter upon you. This matter is being already arranged, though you know it not, and the ambassadors will be here this very day. Let this be a lasting agreement between us, that I shall first attend your wedding and you mine on the same day a year hence.”
With these words he turned, and swifter than a tiger vanished from view. The King returned home struck with wonder, received the ambassadors and accepted their proposals. When he took his place in state on the wedding day, before the first course the pigmy made his appearance, with so vast a crowd of similar beings that the tables were filled and a larger member sat down to meat outside the hall than within it, in pavilions brought by the pigmy, which were set up in a moment of time. Out of these pavilions darted servants bearing vessels each made of a single precious stone, by some not imitable art, and filled the palace and the tents with plate of gold and jewels; nothing was served or handed in silver or wood. Wherever they were wanted, they were at hand: nothing that they brought was from the royal stock or elsewhere; they used their own provision throughout, and what they had brought with them more than satisfied the utmost wishes of all. Nothing of Herla’s preparations was touched: his own servants say with their hands before them, neither called for nor offering aid. Round went the pigmies, faining golden opinions from every one: their splendid clothing and jewels made them shine like burning lights among the company: never importunate, never out of the way, they vexed no one by act or word. Their King, while his servants were in the midst of their business, addressed King Herla in these terms: “Noble King, I take God to witness that I am here present at your wedding in accordance with our agreement: Yet if there be anything more than you see here that you can prescribe to me, I will gladly supply it to the last point; if there be nothing, see that you do not put off the repayment of the honour conferred on you when I shall require it.” And so, without awaiting a reply, he swiftly betook himself to his pavilion, and about cock-crow departed with his people.
After a year had passed, he suddenly appeared before Herla, and called on him to fulfil his agreement. To this he consented, and after providing himself with supplies sufficient for an adequate repayment, he followed wither he was led. They party entered a cave in a high cliff, and after an interval of darkness, passed, in a light which seemed to proceed not from the sun or moon, but from a multitude of lamps, to the mansion of the pigmy. This was as comely in every part as the palace of the Sun described by Naso. Here the wedding was celebrated, the pigmy’s office duly recompensed, and when leave was given, Herla departed laden with gifts and presents of horses, dogs, hawks, and every appliance the best for hunting or fowling. The pigmy escorted them as far as the place where darkness began, and then presented the king with a small blood-hound to carry, strictly enjoining him that on no account must any of his train dismount until that dog leapt from the arms of his bearer; and so took leave and returned home.
Within a short space Herla arrived once more at the light of the sun and at his kingdom, where he accosted an old shepherd and asked for news of his Queen, naming her. The shepherd gazed at his with astonishment and said: “Sir, I can hardly understand your speech, for you are a Briton and I a Saxon; but the name of that Queen I have never heard, save that they say that long ago there was a Queen of that name over the very ancient Britons, who was the wife of King Herla; and he, the old story says, disappeared in company with a pigmy at this very cliff, and was never seen on earth again, and it is now two hundred years since the Saxons took possession of this kingdom, and drove out the old inhabitants.” The King, who thought he has made a stay of his company, could scarcely sit on his horse for amazement. Some of his company, forgetting the pigmy’s orders, dismounted before the dog had alighted, and in a moment fell into dust. Whereupon the King, comprehending the reason of their dissolution, warned the rest under pain of a like death not to touch the earth before the alighting of the dog. The dog has not yet alighted. The story says that this King Herla still holds on his made course with his band in eternal wanderings, without stop or stay. Many assert that they have often seen the band: but recently, it is said, in the first year of the coronation of our King Henry, it ceased to visit our land in force as before. In that year it was seen by many Welshmen to plunge into the Wye, the river of Hereford. From that hour the phantom journeying has ceased, as if they had transmitted their wanderings to us, and betaken themselves to repose. Yet if you are not willing to note how lamentable this unrest may be, not only in our own Court, but in almost all those of great princes, you will have to enjoin silence on me.
– De Nugis Curialium, Walter Map, 12th Century AD
[Image Credit: Wilde Jagd (The Wild Hunt) by Johann Cordes]
