There are very few people (if there are any at all) who know the true story of Herne the Hunter. From that bunch, even fewer can say with certainty when or why the king’s favorite woodsman transformed from man to myth.
For you see, it happened many, many years ago, back when humans mingled freely with Mother Earth and her creatures.
But around this time of year, when the ground is newly-thawed and beginning to sprout a thick carpet of green, whispers of the Green Man, the Horned God, and Herne the Hunter grow louder.
Soon, the stories, and the questions, arise once more…
Tales of the famed huntsman have evolved with age, but as his name suggests, Herne the Hunter was a skilled tracker. There was rarely a time when he ventured into the woods and didn’t return with an offering for the king. King Richard II, the 14th-century English ruler, took such a liking to Herne that he accompanied him on most of his quests. Although his majesty was more powerful than Herne in many ways, when it came to the wild lands, Herne was king.
But, even legendary souls must answer to fate.
And so, as the story goes, one evening, just as the sun started to dip low in the sky, Herne and the king came across a giant white stag. Herne raised his bow and shot an arrow at the animal, striking it in the chest. The arrow had injured the stag but also angered it. The king, assuming the animal was too wounded to be dangerous, hopped off his horse and walked toward the creature. The king did not see the stag’s nostrils flaring or its eyes blazing with rage. And he was too excited about the massive rack atop the animal’s head to sense what was to come next.
The stag, seeing his opportunity for revenge, gathered every ounce of strength and rose to his feet. He charged the king, who was not quick or wise enough to do anything other than stand frozen in shock.
But Herne, who had been reading the stag’s body language since the arrow punctured its hide, jumped in front of the king. The stag’s horns impaled the hunter’s chest just as the man’s blade pierced the animal’s heart.
If it weren’t for a passerby (assumed to be a sorcerer), Herne would have undoubtedly perished. But as the hunter lay dying, the sorcerer told the king to remove the stag’s horns and place them atop the wounded man’s head. The sorcerer then accompanied the king to his palace, where he treated Herne for three days and nights.
Miraculously, Herne made a full recovery. But, his survival came with a steep price.
As Herne prepared for the first hunting trip since his injury, the healer explained that as payment for his services, the hunter would have to forfeit that which he held most sacred—his ability to navigate the woods and track the creatures that lived within.
Herne was devastated to hear the news. Hunting was passion, his pastime, and his livelihood. What good was a hunter who couldn’t hunt?
Despite the circumstances, the king had grown very fond of his favorite woodsman. He and Herne continued to venture into the forests looking for wild game. But unlike before, each evening, the pair came home empty-handed.
The king had other huntsmen, of course, men who longed to track alongside royalty and were furious that their ruler chose to hunt with a man who could not even capture a rabbit.
Soon, the jealous trackers devised a plan to get rid of Herne once and for all: While Herne and the king were out tracking deer for an upcoming festival, the men gathered the finest animal hides from their latest expeditions and arranged them in Herne’s room.
When the pair returned from their trip (empty-handed again), the devious hunters informed the king that Herne had been sneaking out at night. They insisted Herne’s latest hunts were unsuccessful because he’d been pillaging the forests and keeping the goods for himself.
The king dismissed the hunters’ claims. He thought of Herne as a disciple and a friend—a friend who had risked his life to save another. The king wanted nothing more than to prove the men wrong and punish them for spreading lies, so he marched upstairs to Herne’s chambers. When he opened the door, he saw Herne’s normally tidy room littered with animal hides, antlers, and the remnants of several successful hunts.
Fearing his hands were tied, the king banished Herne from the castle.
It’s difficult to say if it was the exile or the lack of hunting prowess that filled Herne’s heart with misery. Likely, it was both.
After all, what good was a hunter who couldn’t hunt? Or a person who couldn’t provide for those who relied on him?
What was his purpose?
Herne, dejected and depressed, returned to the woods one final time. There, beneath the light of the moon and the stars, the same ones that had once guided him from one corner of the kingdom to the next, Herne hung himself from an oak tree.
Perhaps the huntsman did this as an offering to the animals he’d slain, or as a sacrifice to appease Mother Nature. Maybe it was because Herne believed the oak tree’s spirit would meld with his, guaranteeing his immortality.
But the most probable answer is also the simplest: As a man of the earth, Herne knew that as one season comes to an end, another begins.
No matter what version of the tale speaks to you, Herne the Hunter and the story of the man who lived amongst the trees endures. He no longer hunts animals but has instead become a pack leader of sorts. He speaks with the wild things and guides lost humans and spirits to safety. He grows stronger as the days get longer and the earth exhales the scent of sweet blossoms.
But he’s also a dark god, one who studies the moon and leads the Wild Hunt during the solstices, the equinoxes, and whenever the veil wanes thin. His ghostly apparition is welcome by some and feared by others, his presence a not-so-subtle reminder of the primal powers that reside within the natural world.
Wild Magic: Wildwood Tarot Workbook
$ 14.95
Wild Magic invokes the power of the Wildwood—the Green Man and Green Woman, as well as all the living archetypes of the forest, such as Herne the Hunter and Robin-i-the-Hood. Journey across time to the pre-Celtic world where primal forces, in… read more
