The hounds of the wind often howl
on a dark night over the moors, within the woods, or beside a crossroads. Country
folk know that the leader of the sky-dogs is Wod and they pity the poor traveller
who has not yet reached his home, for Wod is often malicious and seldom kind.
The wild huntsman spares only those who keep to the middle of their path. He
thus often calls out to travellers, "In the middle of the way!"
One night a drunken peasant was returning to his
home from the town. His path led him into the woods. There he heard the wild
ride with the huntsman bellowing at his howling dogs high up in the air.
A voice cried out, "In the middle of the way! In
the middle of the way!" But the drunken peasant paid no attention to this.
At once a tall man riding on a white steed bolted
from out of the clouds and came toward him. "How strong do you think you are?"
he said. "Let us have a contest. Here I have a chain. You take hold of it. Which
of us can pull the hardest?"
Undaunted, the drunken peasant wrapped his end
of the chain round an oak tree, and the furious huntsman pulled in vain.
"You wrapped your end around the oak," Wod said,
dismounting.
"Nay," replied the peasant, swiftly undoing the
chain. "See, it is here in my hands."
"I will have you amid the clouds!" cried the huntsman
and regained his mount. The drunken peasant swiftly wrapped the chain around
the oak once more, and again Wod pulled in vain.
Up above in the night sky, the hounds barked, the
wagons wheels rolled, and the horses neighed. The oak tree strained at its roots
and seemed to twist sideways with the strain. The peasant was terrified, but
yet the tree stood.
"You pulled well!" said the huntsman, laughing
"Many men become mine. You are the first to withstand me. I shall reward you."
The wild hunt proceeded noisily through the sky,
sounding a loud "Halloo! Halloo!" The peasant crept onward along his way. Then
at once, from up unseen in the heights, a gasping stag fell before the drunken
man. Wod appeared once more and leapt from his white horse. He hurriedly butchered
the game.
"The blood is offered to you," he said to the peasant,
"and a hind quarter also."
"My lord," said the peasant, "your servant has
neither pail not pitcher."
"Take off your boot then!" said Wod.
This the man did.
"Now take you this blood and the meat, home to
your wife and child."
At first the drunken man's terror lightened the
burden, but slowly it became heavier and heavier until he was hardly able to
carry it further. But with a bent back and dripping with sweat, finally he reached
his hut, and when he looked down he found his boot was full of gold, and the
hind quarter of the stag was become a leather bag full with silver coins.
Source:
Carl and Theodor Colshorn, Märchen und Sagen aus Hannover (Hannover,
1854), pp. 192-193. This version a little abridged in a retelling by Shaun D.
L. Brassfield-Thorpe.