Days Upon The Year

Follow the road from Pendle east
through forest, moss and moor
when overworld's portal hangs agape
in the days upon the year,

So many lonely travellers
have passed that way before
and met a vengeful spirit there
in the days upon the year.

In the valley by Wycoller
where mist hangs like a caul
you will hear ancient voices sing
as darkness starts to fall.

An old bridge spans the river there,
only a fool, the stories say,
would cross its span upon these nights
when the dark ones are set free.

From the shadows steps a woman,
her head shrouded by a veil.
She begged me stay a while and listen
as she told her tragic tale.

On one arm she held a basket
covered by a linen sheet
and her head was coyly lowered.
Did she practice some deceit?

Though I tried to sidestep past her
or turn away to leave
she called me with my given name,
pale fingers caught my sleeve.

Then she gently brushed my forehead:
Her soothing voice intoxicates,
men are trapped in her enchantment;
he is lost who hesitates.

She told me of two young lovers
who met in the darkness here
and made their plan to find freedom
in the days upon the year,

A young maid, the only daughter
of a stern faced puritan
and a boy whose noble family
bowed to the church of Rome.

The pair met here by the river
when the mist hung like a shroud
but as they kissed she told a secret.
He recoiled and cursed aloud.

Backing away he accused her
of bringing him to shame,
the bastard child he'd got on her
would stain his family's name.

She said "I have my father's silver,
who cares for reputation,
we will travel to the Virginias
and there will have high station."

"I care not for you nor your child,
you gave yourself too easily,
a harlot's love is worth nothing
but honour demands high fee."

Drawing his sword he pierced her heart
and took the silver coin.
Lastly he hacked off her head
hoping to conceal his crime.

And while the blood flowed from those wounds
he lifted the body high,
threw it down into dark waters
and quickly rode away.

"My father cursed my soul," she says,
"I am damned by my falsehood
until I can find one man who has
never betrayed his love."

She lifted up her hooded head,
no face was hidden by that cowl
only an abysmal darkness.
From the void a banshee howl.

Lifting back the basket's cover
she showed what lay within
And then I knew this creature for
the embodiment of sin.

A lovely head lay on a pillow,
golden hair stained red with blood,
dead eyes opened, blue as sapphires,
the mouth a pink rosebud.

She threw back her cloak revealing
the wound where once her neck
rested on pale, slender shoulders.
The dead called me from the beck.

Demonic arms embraced my waist
and bore me to the edge
and the voices of the dead called out
from darkness below the bridge.

She held me over that dark water,
asked; and I denied betrayal,
"he lies, he lies," the voices cried
and the dead hands let me fall.

All men sometime betray a love
when the passion first abates
but in the days upon the year
an avenging spirit waits.

Copyright © 2004, Ian Thorpe



Notes: The story is cobbled together from three local legends, The Headless Hag of Grane, the Haunted Bridge (which is not actually at Wycoller but Mytton which does not scan) and The Grey Lady of Salmesbury. I added the gothic ending as a bit of spice.
The Days Upon The Year is a very ancient legend. A logical mindset may have wondered why there are 360 degrees of longitude and 365 days in a year. It was not always so, something happened in pre - history that added five and a quarter days to the earth's orbit. To the ancients these five days were the time in which the Gods were born and at this time of year the barriers between the physical world and other dimensions is open. Old religions saw this not as unholy but as a time for partying, crazy behaviour and unconstrained shagging. The festivities were presided over by the Lord of Misrule and as normal order was suspended a lot of June / July babies looked nothing like the men who ought to be their fathers

The Overworld is again a reference to the older religion which has no concept of hell. The physical world is the lowest level of existence and therefore the underworld.

Beck is an ancient North of England word for a small river or creek

A caul is the membrane in which a foetus is contained. It has all sorts of mystical assoiations which is why I used it here (apart from the fact that it rhymed of course.)