The Wild Hunt- A Solstice Ghost Story

To say I had a misspent youth might be a bit of an understatement. I was in a word ‘wild’. Whilst in my early twenties I engaged in what modern psycho-babble would describe as risk taking behaviour, then I would have described it as having a bloody good time. Thankfully I am older and hopefully wiser now and can look back on those days with a sense of relief that I survived, as some did not. I lived a transient life through the late 80’s and early 90’s, sometimes squatting, sometimes in the back of some old van and more oft than not in a sleeping bag under the night sky. I wandered far and wide with my guitar in hand and pack on my back.

I was lucky enough in those days to meet some very colourful characters, some sound and some a bit shady round the edges. Pete and Ralph were two such types, Pete was sound enough, but Ralph could be a bit of a handful when he had a drink on him, which was every day from mid-morning onwards. I lived in a squat with them both in the summer of 1989 and we all went busking in Brighton’s North Lanes every day. In a way it was those days of excess that got me off the drugs that I was starting to take more and more. Pete and Ralph’s appetite for getting off of their heads was insatiable, and I guess by trying to keep up with them I made myself so sick, that it turned me off of drugs for life. Perhaps it was the amount that I was drinking then, it just didn't leave room for anything else. Towards the end of the summer the squat was evicted and I headed my way (up to London) and they headed theirs (off to another squat in Bristol).

I stayed with an old friend of the families in London and they helped me to straighten out and get myself back on track for a while. I got a temporary job working in a warehouse and managed to save up a good chunk of money to rent a flat. Everything was going well, and then fate, as it has a habit of doing, intervened.

Four days before Christmas I said my farewells to my saviour and caught a bus to Brighton. I had arranged to stay with a mate while I looked for a flat or bedsit to rent. As I left the train station I heard a horn beep.

“Hey Rob” a voice called “Geezer!”

I turned to see a head all dreadlocks and piercings, sticking out of the sliding side door of a van that looked like it had picked up laundry from Queen Victoria, it was so old.

“Bloody hell Brian, mate how are you?!” I said, pleased to see my old mate.

“Alright bud, alright” said Brian grinning away with an obvious buzz on.

“Just heading out to the stones, for the solstice you going?” he said noting the guitar and rucksack slung on my back.

The rest as they say is history, I never did rent a flat in Brighton, the money was all gone, by the time I got back from Stonehenge, but  life as they say is all about learning. I can’t really say I had a good time at that year’s winter solstice festival, I don’t really remember much of it, only two things, one it was bloody freezing and two I saw Pete and Ralph and it was them that took my money. To cut a long story short Pete and Ralph had a sure fire money maker, buy some hash and sell it on for a profit. Only one problem though, they didn’t have any money to finance the deal. That is until I came along with my nest egg, saved up for a deposit and one month’s rent on a bedsit. Don’t get the wrong idea, I didn’t just hand it over, I wasn’t that naive, but they wore me down, they knew me to well. To top it off they both touched the centre stone of Stonehenge on the morning of the Solstice and swore by the old gods that I would be paid in full with interest by the end of the day. If not may the judgements of the gods fall down upon them. I know it sounds stupid, but it was this that convinced me, it was the sheer presence of the place, you could feel the ancient powers all around, you had to respect them. Well I did anyway. As for Pete and Ralph they headed off to do the deal full of promises and smiles never to return. There were perhaps three or four hundred at the festival in a scattering of trucks, vans and tents. Well somewhere in that lot they went to ground, or perhaps they just ran for it. Either way I had been scammed.

It is important to learn from past mistakes as you negotiate your way through life, but it is equally important to forget those mistakes to. Otherwise they will tie you up in knots and trip you up, if you dwell too much on them you will never take any risks again, they will disable you. And so I forgot about Pete and Ralph, quite frankly I was embarrassed that I had been such a fool. So I just got on with it. I went back to London with my tail between my legs and the family friend proved just what a good friend they were. I got myself together within two years and ended up beginning a degree in Social Work and living in South London.

It was on the 20^th of December 1991, the day before the Solstice when I ran into Pete, he was busking at a tube station, and if it hadn't been for his singing and the song he was playing, I would not have recognised him. He was a shadow of his former self, as thin as a rake and his dreads shaved off.  As I saw him I felt torn as to what I should do. A part of me just wanted to grab him and demand my money back, but looking at him I was overwhelmed with sadness at seeing how far he had fallen. I lowered my eyes and rushed past with the flowing crowd. But as I neared the platform I heard approaching footsteps rushing toward me and Pete’s voice calling.

“Rob, Rob, it’s me Pete” he touched my shoulder and I swung around, the anger resurfacing for a second until I looked into his sunken eyes.

“Hi Pete” I said not knowing what to add.

“Take it” pleaded Pete, thrusting the small hat with all his busking money into my hands.

“Please, take it all, it’s all I have, please” again he pressed the hat upon me.

“Shove it mate, I don’t want your money” if he thought a few coppers could make up for the way he had cheated me he had another thing coming.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” he said tears welling up “we blew it, got stoned and blew it” he broke down and began to cry. My heart went out to him this man who had once been my friend, my anger and shame at being conned all left me and I was flooded with empathy for this fellow tortured soul.

“its ok mate, it’s ok” I said softly “come on let’s get a cup of tea, you hungry?”

“No, no” he said shaking his head “I have to be at the church long before midnight”

“Oh ok” I said maybe he’s got religion I thought, stranger things have happened.

“Do you forgive me?” he asked pleadingly “Maybe if you do they won’t come?, do you, do you” As he stood there his chest heaving and the tears flowing I thought he must have some kind of mental illness, he had fallen apart since I had last seen him.

“I forgive you” I smiled “come on I’ll walk to the church with you” as we walked we talked and he told me the story of what had happened to him and Ralph and I knew then that his mind had snapped, to many drugs I thought. What follows is an account of what he told me. It sounds ridiculous but as he talked he seemed almost bewitched by the story he told me and the words beguiled us both as we lost all sense of time.

According to Pete they had always planned to pay me back, they went to a bar in someone’s truck to do the deal, but the seller of the hash never turned up. The money just ran out of their hands drink after drink, snort after snort and by the time they got themselves together again it was gone, drunk away and stuffed up their noses. The next day they ran, knowing that I would be well pissed off. They avoided Brighton for a bit until they had heard that I was up in London and not planning on going back there. The next winter they moved to an old abandoned cottage in the Sussex countryside, on the North Downs. It was there that they planned on spending the winter Solstice, with a pile of fire wood and a pile of drink.

They sat in the old cottage with the fire roaring as the night of the 20th became the night of the 21st the winter solstice. Ralph beat his drum and Pete sang along and played his mandolin, by the light of the fire. They were both so caught up in the music that they never really even noticed the other voices and drums joining, until the cacophony of hellish voices shocked them back into the present. They stopped playing mouth open wide, but the other worldly drums and voices played on until a mighty horn blew and a single bass drum beat three times. Then silence; only their heavy panicked breathing and the crackling of wood on the fire breaking the stillness of the night.

“COME” boomed the voice of a man, animalistic in tone and texture, as he spoke they jumped to their feet in shock.

“COME” a voice that must be obeyed “THE WILD HUNT AWAITS”

“We don’t want no trouble mister” quaked Ralph “were not going to stay here, well go in the morning”

“SILENCE OATH BREAKER, YOUR JUDGEMENT AWAITS”

As if in a dream they stumbled to the broken down front door of the cottage and out into the night. Before the cottage was a field with a ring of trees in the middle of it and there under the trees lay a sight that caused their bowels to open and empty. Within the circle were a dozen or so riders mounted upon a variety of beasts, stags, bears, horses and giant wolves. The riders were all dressed in animal furs and green robes and upon the heads were hats made from the skins and horns of all form of feral beast, mankind amongst them. They held axes and spears in their hands and some brandished torches that burned with a ghostly green fire.

“OH WOE TO YE! WHO DARE SWEAR AN OATH ON THE HOLY ALTAR! UPON THE HOLY DAY! AND BREAK IT SO” their leader chanted, a terrible bearded brute, and more bear than man.

“WHAT SAY YOU NOW?”

“Please sir” quaked Ralph, the fear causing his voice to break and squeak as he spoke, adding a sense of the ridiculous to the macabre scene unfolding on that fateful night “please, we did not Know, we meant no offence”

“BUT OFFENDED WE ARE MORTAL!” the words violent and loud knocked Ralph and Pete to the ground as they clung to their aching eardrums.

“Please Sir forgive us” said Pete, staring at the ground in front of him.

“FORGIVE?” said the head of the hunt, seeming to ponder the question for a moment or two “FORGIVE?” and then after a few moments,  they heard a sound that left Pete and Ralphs hearts with no hope, no memories of a world that was good, were a man could make amends for the wrongs of his life. A sound that sent them both to a place beyond fear. Quietly at first came the sound of the huntsmen’s laughter, like a contagion that would wipe out an ancient race within a day, the laughter began to spread through the assembled ranks of the wild hunt. Rising in volume, in discord, until Ralph and Pete could stand it no longer and began to wail like the lost souls they now knew themselves to be.

“NO, NO WE DO NOT FORGIVE, THAT IS FOR THE OTHER GOD AND ALL HIS ILK” the huntsman sneered down at them from the lofty heights of his saddle, a terrible judge to behold “NO WE SEEK JUSTICE, NO MORE, NO LESS”

“FOR FIVE YEARS WE HUNT, EACH YEAR UPON THIS EVE IF THEN YOU STILL LIVE, FREE YOU WILL BE” He drew a large horn, shorn from some mythical beast long since dead and raised it to his lips “BARRRROOOOOMMMMM” the sound exploded into the night, causing all those asleep in their beds to stir fearful in their slumbers and fear that something untoward stalks the night outside.

“BUT IF CAUGHT  THEN DOOMED YOU WILL BE. TO RIDE IN THE YEARLY HUNT FOR EVERMORE” hearing  those words Pete raised his head and saw in those terrible faces before him the once hunted men and women, who sought not only justice, but revenge for the terrible fate which had befallen them.

“LET THE HUNT BEGIN” with that the cries of the hunters and hunted alike filled the night, causing foxes to burrow deeper into their hills, squirrels to peer from their treetop nests in fright, and bats to wish for the dawn to come as they flew into their kith and kin, all direction lost from their flight that night.

Of what happened as he was hunted that solstice night Pete was not certain, he managed to gain sanctuary in a churchyard an hour before dawn, and hid, bleeding from the cuts of a thousand unseen thorns, within the hollow trunk of an ancient Yew. Cowering there as  the hunt charged the boundaries of the hallowed ground in fury, until dawn drove them from the land for another year .

Pete never saw Ralph again. For a while they ran from the hunt together, but were separated by the treacherous dark of the winter night’s sky. Of his capture he was certain. He seemed to lose the ability to talk.,as he began to describe the sounds that he had heard when Ralph had been  caught by the hunt, far off across the fields and woodlands of the downs. It was as if his brain was closing down parts of his consciousness, in order to protect him, from the horror of those sounds. A horror that awaited him also, if he were to be caught by the hunt.

The next day Pete had headed out of the countryside and fled for the urban sprawl of London, hoping to gain protection from the wild within the concrete jungle. There he had remained, nearly an entire year. He now knew the location of every churchyard in London, and every route by which he could flee to these sanctuaries, from the terrible unforgiving gods of old. As his story neared its end it was like a spell had been lifted from us and looking at my watch I realised that we had both been walking and talking for over three hours.

“Wow it’s nearly twelve!” I exclaimed.

“What!” shrieked Pete staring at me fearful eyed. Looking around I realised that I didn't even know the street I was on, or how we had got there.

“Good bye, I am sorry” he said in almost a whisper, turning from me he began to run down the road towards the Iron gates of a park.

“Pete wait, wait for me” I called after him. I followed him as fast as I could, but the Rock and Roll lifestyle had taken its toll and I was soon gasping for breath. As I reached the gates of the park, I saw his silhouette against the orange street lamp glow of the city beyond. He was near the crest of a hill and heading for a small churchyard which surrounded a tiny chapel. The clock in the church tower began to strike the hour, but the sound of the bell seemed to distort into something hellish and discordant. I froze in place unable to move, transfixed by something prime-evil, beyond terror. Neither could I force my head to turn away as from out of the dark places of the park the hunt appeared,  horns blowing and riders howling. They blocked the ground between Pete and the churchyard, forcing him to change his frantic course and disappear from view onto the far side of the hill. The wild hunt like a forest fire of terrible green flames flowed over the hill after him. As the last rider disappeared from view, they turned and gave me the briefest of looks. The sound of the hunts pursuit of Pete faded away into the wild night of a city, which before then had felt like home to me. Although I can’t quiet remember it I am sure I heard Pete’s capture shortly afterwards, but some part of me protects me from the memory of it. One memory I cannot escape though, a memory that will haunt me until the day I die, perhaps beyond. The memory of the last rider looking back at me. A face twisted and misshapen like a plant in barren soil, trying to grow toward the light.  A face of one I had now forgiven, but not forgotten. A face of one damned to ride for eternity, within the ranks of the wild hunt. A face of an old friend, a man once. A man who was known as Ralph.