Night has come to the Forest. Robin takes you through the Dark trees, to peer into a clearing full of people. The sounds of a drum and some strange shrill flute are emanating from the clearing, and so is the sound of a strange chant. The people in the clearing are dancing around a great Stang, with a blazing cangle set between its horns…you notice that the candle flame is burning blue.
“The Cunning Fire between the horns”, Robin says. “Hear me now, for the summoning of the Old One is done in many ways, chiefly by the shears and the sieve, but for those who know the old language from the south, one may speak it:
Eho Eho Azaro
Eho Eho Zamariac
Bahe Gabe lasha bachera
Garallaz!
Lanac lanac bacheraz
Khopora-gey sabelaz
Ballyjoaz!
Lakhaz eta khoporaz
Semiac eta familiaz
Hurrahya!”
Robin smiles mysteriously. “Is your goblet full for the Master?” He asks. He brings your attention back to the dancing people around the Stang.
The dancers themselves are a truly astonishing sight. They all wear different masks, of various animals, and they are all dancing with great vigor, some clapping hands, others stooping over, like they are about to start running on all fours. Robin tells you “This is the rite of Fith Fath…shape changing. Listen carefully…”
A man in a stag mask is yelling out a couplet, which is answered by a man’s voice, and to which the crowd of people all cry out in refrain, all in rhyme. They are saying:
“Cunning and art he did not lack
But Aye, her whistle would fetch him back…”
“O, I shall go into a hare
With sorrow and sighing and mickle care
And I shall go in the Devil’s name
Aye, till I be fetched’ hame.”
“-Hare, take heed of a bitch greyhound
Will harry thee all these fells around,
For here come I in our Lady’s name
All but for to fetch thee hame”
“Cunning Art he did not lack
But Aye, her whistle would fetch him back”
“Yet I shall go into a trout
With sorrow and sighing and mickle doubt,
And show thee many a merry game
Ere that I be fetched’ hame.”
“-Trout take heed of an otter lank
Will harry thee close from bank to bank,
For here come I in our Lady’s name
All but for to fetch thee hame.”
“Cunning Art he did not lack
But Aye, her whistle would fetch him back”
“Yet I shall go into a bee
With mickle horror and dread of thee,
And flit to hive in the Devil’s name
Ere that I be fetched’ hame.”
“-Bee, take heed of a swallow hen
Will harry thee close, both butt and ben,
For here come I in our Lady’s name
All but for to fetch thee hame.”
“Cunning Art he did not lack
But Aye, her whistle would fetch him back.”
“Yet I shall go into a mouse
And haste me unto the miller’s house,
There in his corn to have good game
Ere that I be fetched’ hame.”
“-Mouse, take heed of the white tib-cat
That never was baulked of mouse or rat,
For I’ll crack thy bones in Our Lady’s name
Thus shalt thou be fetched’ hame!”