Out in the country, there lived a man named Welland Eddritch. Welland lived alone
and kept his own counsel. But it befel that one day, when he was at the market, he
saw the most beautiful woman, with long goloden tresses, and fell instantly in love
with her. And he asked various people who she was, but never could he get a straight
answer - people would say only that she was fey, or that no man should touch her on
pain of death. For many weeks, each market day he would see the beautiful woman, until
eventually he plucked up the courage to go and speak to her.
Gradually, they became easy in each other's company, the lonely man and the fey
woman, and they saw more and more of each other, but each market day, at dusk, she
would away and Welland would not see her again until the following morning. Eventually,
as is the way of such things, they began to take their pleasure of each other, and
Welland asked her to marry him. She declined, saying that she would be bound to no man,
but Welland persisted and eventually she consented, provided that Welland would make
her a solemn oath, never to ask where she went on the evening of market day, nor to
pursue the matter in any way. Naturally, Welland made the oath, and they were married,
and lived happily, taking pleasure all the days, excepting the evening of market day
when the lady would absent herself, always returning the following morning.
Now Welland became curious, and eventually became obsessed with finding the secret.
So, breaking his oath, one evening he followed her to a grove out in the hills. And,
creeping up and spying close, he saw three women, dancing naked round a fire. One was
his young wife: the second was an older woman, looking the same and with the same
golden tresses. And the third was an old woman whose long hair, though greying now,
had once been golden.
Now, despite having broken his oath, all would have been well for Welland, except
that his tongue got the better of him. The next market day, when his wife left, he
blurted out "I suppose you're going to dance with your sisters...". His wife did not
reply, but turned and left as usual. however, in the morning, she did not return.
Nor did she return the next day, nor the next. And on the next market day, people
asked after the lady, for no-one had seen her. And finally Welland realised that,
in breaking his oath and speaking of it, he had lost his wife forever.
Welland was so distraught that eventually he drowned himself in the river. But
still his soul could find no rest, and eventually he was seen to ride out at the head
of the Wild Hunt. Now the Hunt, composed of lost souls, rides out on dark horses, and
the occasional black Harley-Davidson, to protect the country. With hooves and wheels
not quite touching the ground, they ride in the direction of the greatest danger of
the moment. So, having recently returned from a sojourn facing Germany, I last saw
them riding towards Westminster...
