King Herla?Äôs Hound:¬Ý A Bloodhound Tale
An excerpts from the book
The Mythology of Dogs
by Gerald and Loretta Hausman
IN THE LONG AGO, thee lived a faery king of the Underground whose name was Redbeard.¬Ý As it happened, the little king?Äôs best friend was Herla, the king of England.¬Ý Often the two met and shared a flagon of fire-warned wine and spoke of their great kingdoms, the one on top of the earth, and the other down below.¬Ý There was, in truth, a cavern that linked the two worlds, which kept them together and apart.
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?ÄúCome to my palace,?Äù the little king said one day to Herla.¬Ý ?ÄúYou will not be disappointed.?Äù
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?ÄúWhat does your kingdom have than mine does not??Äù¬Ý asked Herla, who was of average size for an English monarch.
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The little king thought for a moment.¬Ý He sat, golden-saddled, upon a ram goat, his customary mount whenever he went about the upper regions of the daylight world.
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?ÄúI will tell you, my dear friend,?Äù he said at last.¬Ý ?ÄúMy kingdom has great cavernous halls with arches of emerald.¬Ý The walls are fashioned of the finest beaten gold.¬Ý Rivers run out of the rock, and we have fountains from which flow wine and glowing candles that float among the lotus flowers.?Äù
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King Kerla raised his eyebrows.¬Ý ?ÄúHave you more miracles of this sort??Äù¬Ý he asked, incredulous.
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The little king answered, ?ÄúCome, and you shall see for yourself.?Äù
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So King Herla mounted his horse and, with one hundred men, followed Redbeard to the mouth of the cave that led to the Underground.¬Ý Into the cave went the little flame-faced king, riding upon his brown goat.¬Ý And after followed King Herla and his legions of armored men.
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When they entered the Underworld, there was much celebration.¬Ý All the little people gathered round and toasted the tall people from the Up-Above.¬Ý King Herla, his courtiers, and soldiers were much amazed at the finery of Redbeard?Äôs palace, a fiery, facery world, if ever there was one.¬Ý All the little king had said was true:¬Ý The Underground glittered with golden tracery, and the arches of emerald burned darkly in the halls.
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Now, when it came time to leave, Redbeard presented Herla with a wonderful royal gift.¬Ý It was a tiny hound dog, smaller than the palm of the Up-Above king.¬Ý In truth, the hound was but two inches tall.
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Amazed, King Herla announced, ?ÄúI shall name him Herla?Äôs Hound.?Äù¬Ý Redbeard glowed with happiness.¬Ý ?ÄúName him what you will,?Äù he said, ?Äúbut mark you well.¬Ý When you leave the Underground, you must not dismount until your hound has set foot on the earth.?Äù
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?ÄúA funny rule, that,?Äù said the grinning King Herla, ?ÄúBut I shall obey it just the same.?Äù
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?ÄúRemember,?Äù the little king called as Herla started to leave, ?Äúset the dog down first!?Äù¬Ý His voice echoed in the gilded halls.
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Then King Herla and his men rode upward toward the sun.¬Ý Into the light the legion rose.¬Ý And though they had been Underground just a fortnight, it seemed like a lifetime to them.¬Ý The humpbacked hills gave the land the look of the sea, shimmering and shining.¬Ý On they rode, admiring the world of day-bright light.¬Ý Naturally, the king was in front, holding his hound on the flat of his open palm.¬Ý The tiny dog stood with his ears drooping and his sad eyes surveying; in all ways except for size, he was a perfect bloodhound, a paragon of his breed.
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Presently, they came to a crossroad where an old toothless man with a long white beard leaned upon a hazel walking stick.
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?ÄúHullo,?Äù King Herla greeted him.
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The stranger looked at the armored men and the stamping horses and the odd kingly fellow with palm outstretched.
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Squinting, he cried, ?ÄúWho is coming in the clothes of some ancient land??Äù¬Ý
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?ÄúLook to,?Äù Herla commanded.¬Ý ?ÄúDo you not know who we are?¬Ý It is I, Herla, your king, these are my men, and this noble dog is Herla?Äôs Hound.?Äù
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The old man shook his head with disbelief.¬Ý His snowy beard wagged in the sun.¬Ý He swiveled this way and that, in confusion.
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?ÄúI know not who you are, or wherefore you have come,?Äù he said, his voice trembling.¬Ý ?ÄúBut by the look of you, sir, you?Äôre several hundred years too late?Äî?Äú
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?ÄúTalk sense,?Äù Herla roared.¬Ý ?ÄúYour word outrun your reason.?Äù¬Ý He was angry that this fool did not seem to know who he was ?Äìthe king of England!
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Scratching his baldhead, the old man tried to explain.
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?ÄúI once heard tell of some ancient king who disappeared without a trace.¬Ý But that was just a lot of nonsense.?Äù
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?ÄúWhat mad thing you say,?Äù Herla hollered.
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?ÄúI speak the truth,?Äù the stranger said meekly. Then he backed up, turned around, and began hobbling lamely down the road.¬Ý When he felt he was a safe distance away, he shouted:¬Ý ?ÄúYou are all an apparition, ghosts from another time.?Äù
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?ÄúWhat fool?Äôs words his tongue does fashion,?Äù Herla said.¬Ý ?ÄúDoes he still not know who I am??Äù
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Herla felt it was time to beat sense into the man- and if anyone was going to do it, he would.¬Ý In a rage, he jumped from his horse.
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Suddenly, Herla?Äôs Hound vanished.¬Ý Then his armored men flickered like spent flames in the sun and, with their horses still under them, they all snuffed out in the wind.¬Ý¬Ý After this, the king himself began to dissolve until his presence was nothing but a fog of smoke, and then, that, too, wound up and away and was gone.¬Ý At last, nothing was there that was not there before:¬Ý the oaks on the hills; he sun on high; the lame old man.
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?ÄúI told them,?Äù he cried.¬Ý ?ÄúGhosts, and they didn?Äôt even know it.?Äù
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Now, the king and his men were never seen again.¬Ý Some say they went back Underground.¬Ý Others say they wander about to this very day, which explains the mournful cries that can still be heard in the hills of Northumberland on autumn nights.¬Ý ?ÄúThat?Äôs Herla?Äôs Hound,?Äù people say, even though they know it?Äôs just the geese honking overhead as they fly south for the winter.
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AFTERWORD
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The story of Herla and his magic hound is an English myth, which, no doubt, has lineage in Celtic love.¬Ý Scottish faery dogs are also quite common in folklore.¬Ý There is one tale about a faery hound named Favann, who, when in pursuit of quarry, barks three times.¬Ý The third bark renders the fugitive frozen.
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Such Highland legends feature faery dogs both good and bad.¬Ý Our tiny bloodhound is one of the good ones, recalling the saying that ?ÄúMortals seldom prove worthy of a faery?Äôs trust.?Äù¬Ý Hounds baying and geese honking refer, in the mythology of the British Isles, to lost souls searching for heaven or hell.¬Ý IN the oldest myths, these souls are trying to find the netherworld of the faery folk where life is everlasting.
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Bloodhounds were called this name not because of their ferocity or tracking skill, but because of their royal breeding.¬Ý These animals were originally bred by members of the French aristocracy.¬Ý As the dogs owned by kings and queens, it is fitting that King Herla?Äôs bloodhound had something to do with the king?Äôs fate.¬Ý Destiny and the bloodhound go well together.¬Ý In the 1930s, in America, a bloodhound?Äôs ?Äúscent testimony?Äù was worthy of a conviction in a court of law.
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