Grayling's Song(40)

A soft breeze blew into the valley. It reminded Grayling of the sea breeze, and she took a fine deep breath. The world seemed to grow wider, in ripples, as if she, Grayling, were a pebble thrust into a pond, and the whole world swirled in circles around her. She knew not what would come of it but felt such a yearning that she could not withstand it. Tucking a sprig of bright red holly berries in her hair, she smiled.

Grayling hurried back into the cottage for her cloak and out again. She found a stout walking stick and looked up the hill she had so recently come down.

Hannah Strong’s shoulders sagged as she watched the girl. “I knew from the moment I sent you to save me that this day would come, but so soon?”

“I cannot stay. I trust you can find others to help you boil and brew and learn your songs. I may be the wise woman’s daughter, but I have my own song to sing.” Grayling put her arms around her mother. “I will fetch your grimoire from Phinaeus Moon and see it returned to you.”

“Nay, girl, I believe ’tis yours now. From mother to daughter, over generations.” Her mother, not one for hugging, yet hugged Grayling back.

“Farewell, Hannah Strong,” Grayling said.

“Farewell, daughter.”

In her clear true voice, Grayling sang her new song:



Seasons change, winter’s nigh.

Leaves change color, fall, and die.

Seasons change, wet and dry.

Even wise folk wonder why

Everything changes by and by.





She stopped for a moment and then nodded and added a last line:



Seasons change, and so do I.





Then Grayling turned for the path back up the hill toward the rest of the world.





Author’s Note


Cunning folk? Wise women? Hedge witches? I knew there was a story there, and the only way I could find out what it was was to write it. So I did, setting the story in a place much like medieval England but with magic.

For centuries, all across the world, cunning folk, also called wise women or wise men or hedge witches, were the ones villagers sought out to cure toothache or bellyache, to find lost or stolen objects, or to provide love potions and prophecies. The activities of cunning folk could be sorted into herbal medicine, folk magic, and divination. Some of their pursuits may sound far-fetched to modern ears, but they were recognized remedies in medieval England, and much of what cunning folk found and did is still used today.





Herbal Medicine


The use of plants as medicines dates as far back as the origin of humankind. Historic sites in Iraq show that Neanderthals used yarrow, marsh-mallow root, and other herbs more than sixty thousand years ago.

People have always relied on plants for nourishment. Through trial and error, they discovered that some plants are good to eat, some are poisonous, and some produce bodily changes or relieve pain. Over time, these observations were passed down from generation to generation, with each new population adding to the body of knowledge.

Many ancient plant-based remedies are used to this day, such as ginger and mint to treat nausea, poppies to make medicine for sedation and pain relief, and witch hazel lotion for skin ailments. Saint John’s wort, once used to ward off evil spirits, now relieves depression. Spiderwebs have been used since Roman times on wounds to stop the bleeding. It is now known that spiderwebs are rich in vitamin K, which can be effective in clotting blood. Even carnivorous animals are known to consume plants when ill. My cat eats grass.

Valuable modern medicines are derived from herbal folk remedies: from the moldy bread used on wounds to speed healing came penicillin; from willow bark, used for fevers, came aspirin; foxglove, used to treat various complaints, led to digitoxin for heart trouble.

In March 2015, scientists at the University of Nottingham in England reported that they had tried a thousand-year-old Anglo-Saxon remedy for sties, or infections of the eyelids: Take crop leek and garlic, of both equal quantities, pound them well together. . . . Take wine and bullocks gall [bile from the gall bladder of a steer], mix with the leek. . . . Let it stand nine days in the brass vessel. The bizarre-sounding potion was then tested on skin taken from mice infected with the antibiotic-resistant superbug MRSA. It killed 90 percent of the bacteria! And the Anglo-Saxons knew about it more than a thousand years ago.

Not all ancient remedies were actually helpful, however, and some sound loathsome—fried mouse for whooping cough, for example, or boiled sheep droppings for smallpox, or boiled onions carried in the armpits to cure pneumonia.





Folk Magic


Herbal healing, like life in general long ago, was mixed with magic and superstition. Charms or amulets, objects believed to have magical powers (like a rabbit’s foot), were carried to ward off illness or misfortune. Specific actions or gestures, such as hand motions against the evil eye, were assumed to have magical powers. Think of Auld Nancy waving her broom at a rainy sky.

Spells, chants, and incantations are magical words or phrases intended to bring about a specific result. “Hocus-pocus” and “abracadabra” are magic words used by many magicians. The Amazing Mumford on Sesame Street used “A la peanut butter sandwiches!”; Ali Baba in the Arabian Nights called out “Open Sesame!” and the door opened. Auld Nancy, Pansy, and Sylvanus all use spells or chants, with varying results. Grayling’s song to the grimoire is a magical incantation.