I.

Many years ago in Liège, during the Great Reformation, and the subsequent wars, there lived a merchant by the name of Lawrence. One could say (and a few did) that Lawrence was as honorable a young man that ever was. He had no deficiency of wits, looks, or manners, knew his business well, and was not prone to any particular vice or excess. Indeed, he was most humble and patient, and no one who bargained with him ever regretted doing so. But Lawrence was also a man of small ambitions. His greatest in life was to be a shopkeeper, a profession many do complain that they have been saddled with. But in Lawrence's case it may be a little more justified, as he was really little more than an itinerant peddler. He went from town to town with a little mule-drawn cart which he had to ride and drive himself. And not for him were rich cargoes of oriental silks, exotic spices, or jewels and precious stones, or even more mundane needfuls like lead or coal. But instead he carried grain. A great weakness of Lawrence's (that he could afford no guards for his wagon) was offset by the fact that only the most desperate of highwaymen would ever bother him, and his utterly meager wares. Though people in the villages and larger towns tended to smile well upon Lawrence when he passed, they always had a twinge of heart upon doing so, as even the street urchins and vagabonds sought for themselves greater things than did he.

Lawrence was wont to trade with a tiny village in the hills known as Pasrót. For this town always produced great quantities of wheat every year, which they were all too willing to sell Lawrence, or to any man who happened by. 'Twas a poor place, some thought inbred. And not only that, but they kept to themselves certain pagan practices. I do not rightly know why the archbishop did not order the town burnt for this, or even dispatch inquisitors to put it to trial. I would think some exchange of favors was involved. But either way, Lawrence was too good-natured and harmless a fellow to spread word of the heresy to the folk in the city. And so he had a productive means to purchase grain at a low price, and sell it for higher. As for the practice itself, the villagers almost all believed that the reason their harvest was always so bountiful was because of the intervention of a certain spirit. They thought that this spirit must be appeased by means of a ritual. Every year at harvest time, the villagers held a festival in honor of Horo (the name of the spirit), which they thought took the form of a great wolf. They would construct a wooden effigy of a wolf and adorn it with flowers, and around it would dance, and drink and make merry. And when the time came to cut the wheat, they held that the one who cut the last bundle of wheat from the earth must become the spirit's thrall. Upon cutting the grain, he would howl up at the sky like a wolf, and the other villagers would chase him into a barn, and lock him in. There the thrall must sit the whole night through and give praise for the spirit's promise kept, and if the spirit was pleased, it would surely take possession of them.

But in Lawrence's time, these practices, though still performed, were done mostly in jest and drunkenness. For the villiagefolk thought that they no longer required the favor of the spirit to bring a bountiful harvest (and in truth the spirit had always seemed to be quite fickle). And so it happened one year that Lawrence came into the little village at harvest time, his wagon full of salt and little animal hides for trade. He arrived to see the folks in good cheer, as the harvesting of wheat was nearly done, and everywhere they did loiter and drink. When he came up, one said, "Alas, here comes the peddler with our year's ration of salt, now is truly the time to celebrate!" And Lawrence smiled at this. Though the men of the village were generally loutish, and no great company, there lived in the town a girl who was his acquaintance, even his apprentice of sorts. Years ago he had taught the girl, Chloe, what he knew of business and trading. And she was quite eager to learn all he had to teach. She was strong-headed and industrious, much like her father, whom Lawrence had once known well, before his unfortunate end. And so Lawrence turned his attention out into the fields, where the peasants were beginning to make a stir. Standing before the very last bushel of wheat was Chloe, and the farmers stood around her, cheering her on to cut it. The girl was far taller than he remembered, a long white dress covering her thin frame. With little hesitation, she bent down and cut the bushel. And then, raising it aloft, howled up at the sky, as best as her lungs were able. And before the farmhands could even put a foot forward, she was already dashing straight towards Lawrence's cart. To the peddler's great surprise, she jumped nimbly into it, and next to him, and with dark eyes peering straight and full into his, her tan brow gleaming with sweat, and her braids smelling of the freshly cut wheat, said, "Oh, it has been so long, sir, won't you call on me tonight?" And in an instant she was off the cart again, and running into the barn.

Lawrence did not stay the night in the village, however, because Chloe would be shut up in the barn, and outsiders were always regarded with a certain suspicion. He would not risk the rapport he had. After his trading with the elders was done, he set out with his cart to the bank of a nearby stream, where he would sleep rough under the stars. The moon was very high and bright when he arrived, with hardly a cloud to obscure it. The wind was cool and pleasant, and after he had led his mule down to the stream, he went to the back of his cart to make his bed. Just as he was pulling back the covering, he heard something stirring in the bed underneath. After an instant's hesitation, Lawrence threw off the covering entirely, exposing the whole cart to the light of the moon. To the man's utter amazement, sleeping under his pile of furs was a woman. At first he thought Chloe might have stolen away, but 'twas not she. The girl's skin was as white as ivory in the moonlight, and auburn tresses adorned her delicate face, which could not be that of any mere peasant. Lawrence stood gaping for a moment, when the girl began to murmur and stir. He remembered then the circumstance. And just as he was about to put his hand upon her to wake, he thought he saw something twitch on top of her head, like little tufts of hair that protruded straight up from her scalp. He shook his head, thinking the darkness played tricks with him, and again resolved to wake her. Just then her eyes snapped open, looking straight up and into him. They were the color of dull garnets and dried heartsblood, and not merely look as any man does to another did they, but seemed to be a weapon in themselves, stabbing straight and true. Lawrence was shocked again, so severely that he dropped the piece of jerky that was about to be his supper, and drew back. The girl carelessly yawned and stood up from the furs slowly, her whole body now visible. She was stark naked in the moonlight, with straight long hair of wondrous quality flowing down her back, and her creamy skin had not a flaw or blemish of any kind. She looked to be a girl who was only just entered into womanhood, for was not a hair to be seen on her nethers, and her breasts were small and taut. She stood still and straight in the cart, and gazed upward at the moon, her eyes just as intense. Just as Lawrence would again regain his composure, the girl drew herself back, and with eyes still fixed on the full moon, let out the most ghastly howl to surely ever be heard in those wilderness. The sound was no product of a fair maiden's throat, but the cry of a grown wolf. So great was it, that Lawrence's mule became quite startled, and dogs and wolves for miles around set off in a shrill chorus of their own. Lawrence was nearly knocked from his feet, for surely this girl was possessed by a demon, or else a witch had fallen from her broom into his wagon. And again his thoughts were interrupted as the beastly girl began to smile and said, "Ah, how fortunate that I would awake to such a lovely moon as this. You, boy, do you have any ale that I might refresh myself?" She turned her gaze to him, quite composed, and seeming almost lascivious. Lawrence stammered out, "I have neither food nor drink to give devils and witches!" And then he drew his knife from its place on his belt, and pointed it squarely at her. The girl looked slightly perturbed, and responded, "How rude of you, pointing your little knife at me?" It should be noted that the girl did speak French perfectly, although with a somewhat peculiar accent which I cannot describe fully, though it was perhaps German or Danish in nature. And with that, the girl looked ponderous for a moment, then said "Oh! You are not a native of the village I abide in, are you? In that case it is I that owes the apology." As Lawrence, now dumbstruck again, lowered his blade, the girl spied the piece of meat he had dropped to the ground, and bent full over from the end of the cart to pick it up with her teeth. And so she treated Lawrence to another shocking spectacle, a great bushy tale covered in red fur with a white tip that protruded from her backside. It wagged merrily to and fro as she arose again with the meat in her jaws. The girl took a moment to gulp her meal down, hardly chewing, but swallowing instead like a dog. A grin was upon her lips now, which she licked. She turned to him and said, "I hope you can forgive my forgetfulness, and are pleased with this shape that I have taken, for I am Horo."

"Horo, you say? The Horo, and no other?"

"I know of no others. Is it not a fine name?"

"I know of another. The spirit that the villagers just over the hill entreat every season come harvest time. Be it thou?"

"Indeed. I have been bound to this land for many years now, and the people of that village prayed to me for a good harvest. However, I am not some demon or spirit of the woods that demands prayer and sacrifice. I am simply Horo. And I'm sure you think that I am some poor wretch who is demented, and with deformity."

Lawrence was taken aback, for he did not doubt until then that this was some monster of legend (for if he was dreaming or not, he was not certain). But now he thought that what she suggested might be true. But she continued, "I was born in a great forest far to the north, where day is short and night is long, and all is covered in snow. That is my home, and it is to it I wish to return. Are you not a traveler? I wish to come with thee."

"Why wouldst I take you?"

"Ah, but there are many things I can grant you, for I have long dwelled in the world, and know much." And she reached down toward him and touched his face with her fingertips, hers was full of bawdy delight.

"I'll do no such thing, and stay back!" Lawrence shouted, and the girl drew back, her expression now one of hurt.

"Wouldst thou be kinder, sir? For I am all alone now." And Lawrence did relent at that, for the she-wolf had chosen her shape well. But before anything further could be said, the girl sneezed. "Ach, 'tis far too cold to be conversing like this, I do hate having to wear furs without having any of my own." And she settled back down into the cart with Lawrence's furs. But the man was not satisfied, and climbed too into the cart, interrupting her sleep. "If thy truly be the goddess of harvest, and not merely a madwoman, or possessed, prove yourself."

"Wouldst thou see me as I am truly am?" The girl sat up, and was irked.

"I would." Lawrence grew more nervous by the second.

"I do not care to."

"Why wouldn't thou?"

"Why would you see me thus!"

The girl stood and was flushed. Lawrence could not look her in the face, and so turned away.

"If thou are truly the good spirit who makes grain grow, perhaps you could bestow good fortune on me. But if you are some child possessed by demons, then I must bring you to the city where you may be exorcised."

He looked again upon her, and she looked at him intensely. "I ask again, would you have it thus?"

"I would."

She turned from him, and said, "To take this shape or any other requires a true sacrifice. I must either have fresh blood or grain."

"I would much rather it be grain." And so she took a stalk of wheat that Lawrence had bought, and chewed some of its kernels. Just as she had swallowed them, she doubled over, seeming in pain. And just as Lawrence was about to go to her, the said transformation occurred. What had once been the delicate little waif had grown into a great red beast all of three stories high, which quickly leapt from Lawrence's cart, lest it crush it into the dirt. 'Twas verily like the adversary of some forgotten Greek hero, either a fox-like wolf or wolf-like fox, it peered down at Lawrence with great yellow eyes which were blood red in the center. And he could not let out a yelp from fright, but promptly soiled his breeches.

When Lawrence again came to his senses, he found himself underneath his cart. Standing up and looking around, he could find no trace of the girl or the beast that he had seen and conversed with, except that the items that were in his cart were now scattered all asunder. His mule was still standing as it was next to the stream. Had it been some evil dream, he wondered. Had he been slipped a poison by those foul villagers? Either way, his appetite for sleeping under the stars, he found, had left totally. And so he decided to make his way back to the village for the night. On arrival he was quick to find lodging, for the villagers were just then going to their drinking, and an old man offered him his house to rest in. Lawrence did not sleep, but instead lay on the bed clothed, pondering what had transpired in the woods. Was it truly a dream, or had he gone mad? Had the ancient spirit of this impious place really visited him, and marked him as her servant? Or perhaps the Devil was taking what was due him, for Lawrence had never had much fondness for churchmen and prayer. But as was fast becoming the theme of the night, his thoughts were interrupted by a rapping upon the little shuttered window of the cottage. "Who goes there?" "'Tis Horo." The voice was a girl's. Lawrence sat up with a start. And with his hand upon his knife, slowly lifted the wooden shutter. And greeting his eyes behind it was a terrible visage of a wolf with teeth bared. Lawrence jumped back, and his legs began to shake. But the wooden mask was moved aside, and behind it was Chloe. "Silly man, you look like a frightened sheep!" The comparison did little for his nerves, as Lawrence thought he may well have been such a meal for a wolf that night. "Will they not be angry that you've left the barn?"

"There are no spirits there that need pleasing. You're a grown man, and should know better. Come now, you promised me your company." Lawrence tried to calm himself, further reassured that it must have been a dream that he saw before. And so the girl was off with Lawrence in tow, out the small window and to a secluded room in the barn. Once inside by the light of a well-used candle, Chloe and Lawrence exchanged the pleasantries befitting friends who had long been absent of one another's company. It was not long before Chloe was wont to talk of business, particularly how great it had become in the village after she had begun "overseeing all foreign transactions", as she had put it. Lawrence smiled, hmm'd and haw'd at her triumphant talk of success, though he rather doubted certain details, particularly that the town now had a sizable savings of golden Dutch ducats hidden away. But nonetheless, he was pleased with Chloe, for she had taken to heart what he had taught her, and her eagerness to impress him would drive her onward to further learning. However, she was perhaps getting too confident. Chloe continued, now finished with affairs of her little town, she told him how she was informed of the practice of currency speculation by a local tanner, who had learned of it from a cousin who was a church official. "It is surely the most brilliant, unsurpassed scheme in all of creation, earning greater quantities of gold from lesser! Archimedes could not devise anything more clever. So what say you Lawrence? You and I could pool our funds and begin this immediately, and be living in all luxury before next harvest!" At that Lawrence was finally forced to sigh and shake his head. With knowing grin he replied, "Child, you are confident beyond your years and means. Such propositions are not for novices in secluded hamlets, or even established men with property to spare. Great risks come with such dealings, and I would not see either of us come to ruin. If thou art but a little more patient, you shall have a far better time in business."

"Like a pauper with a mule-cart?" Chloe said this under her breath as she turned away in disappointment, but Lawrence heard. Smiling, he said, "I tell you what, next time I'm through here, I'll bring you a deal less likely to get you put in debtor's prison." Chloe then looked at him fiercely. Her eyes reminded him of the wolf-girl's, and his condescension quickly evaporated. She sat up from the bench they had occupied in a huff, and threw herself down on a pile of hay in front of it. "Some day you'll regret taking me so lightly."

"Perhaps I shall." Looking down at her, he saw her legs were fully bared, her white skirt askew around her thigh. Her upper body was turned toward him, her budding bosom in plain view beneath unbuttoned blouse. Lawrence quickly blushed and turned his head, setting off giggles from Chloe.

"I'm not a child anymore, Lawrence."

"Perhaps not, but you are not yet a woman, nor a merchant."

The pair walked along the newly mowed fields just as the light of dawn was beginning to creep up the hills. Chloe did not remain angry, for her youth ensured that her moods were ephemeral. Lawrence had started thinking again of the transpired events near the river, not just the terrible beast, but the beautiful maiden. Long had he wandered empty roads alone. "Did you ever find a companion, Lawrence?" Chloe looked to him with concern. "I can't imagine traveling all the dusty ways with only a mule for company."

"Oh, you would be surprised at what you may be met with in the open countries..."

"Oh? Such as what?" He had gotten her interest, which was not what he desired.

"Like for instance, Horo." Lawrence's tired nerves had slip what would have most wisely been kept hidden.

"You mean me?" Chloe donned her ceremonial mask again.

Lawrence could do naught but nod.

"Ha, you buffoon, there are no such things about. You really do think I'm still but a witless child." Lawrence was somewhat relieved that she thought him a joker, rather than a madman. They presently arrived at the cottage where he had been staying, and there parted ways. Lawrence entered the house and dropped onto the bed without thinking, his weary body would have nothing else. And as he would finally drift off to sleep, a voice from very close by whispered, "I'm surprised you told her of me." Lawrence turned his head, and lying there next to him was the maiden. She smiled gently, serene and unashamed, lying fully nude on the bed next to him, save for the fluffy tail twined about her legs, and her hair covering her breast. He saw that she indeed had little dog's ears atop her head, which were red with little white tufts at the tips. Lawrence knew not if he was dreaming or awake, or mad, but never before in any state had he encountered anything like her. Something in his mind, perhaps his common sense, cried out, telling him to be afraid and run, but his eyes would not let him be drawn from her presence. Despite her certain inhumanity, she was more lovely a girl than he had ever seen before. Perhaps it was just his tiredness, or perhaps the years of loneliness, but Lawrence then decided he would not leave this creature behind him. Seeming to sense his thoughts, the girl turned and arose from the bed, walking slowly to the other end of the room, she began to speak. "Many years ago, I was asked by the folk of this village to grant them a good harvest. I became bound up within the wheat that is grown, and I made it bountiful. But the land could not always sustain such a rich bounty, and at times I had to give it rest. The villagers became resentful then, saying I was flighty and unpredictable. Now finally they doubt that I am here at all, and think they no longer need me anyhow. But because you are taking that bundle of wheat out of the town, I may leave it as well. I suppose I am in your debt, for I no longer wish to stay here." Just then, the rosy light of dawn flooded in through the small window, bathing her form in radiance. She turned to him, smiling. Lawrence could scarcely speak fast enough. "I'll believe what you say, for the time. I may happen yet upon your homeland in the coming months." Horo giggled quietly, "Still, you doubt?"

With the sun climbing toward midday, Lawrence was off with his cart from the village. Only he sat in the driver's seat, and he was quite weary still. But also, a certain headiness was about him, which those who knew him would doubtless find odd. Just as they had crossed over the first of the low hills, and were out of sight of the village, a rustling could be heard from under the cart's covering. Horo's grumbling was lost on Lawrence as he guided his mule down the ill-kept road, but it was not long before she made her presence known. Emerging from the back of the cart, and taking a seat beside him, Lawrence regarded her with less-than pleasant countenance. "Are those clothes you wear not exquisite? Their tailoring flawless, and their cloth of the highest comfort and quality?"

"Indeed." the wolf answered, "I could not have asked for better."

"Well, I am glad for that, as those are the best set of clothes I own, which took me five whole years of trading to acquire. Take them off, and get off my cart now, unless you have the coins to pay for them."

"Ah, but you would not leave me in the road." The girl grinned wryly. "Come now, let us try to appreciate one another's company. And besides, would you rather I had stayed naked when we come into town?" And at that, Lawrence had to concede. She continued, "Worry not about your fortunes in the present, for I shall for years to come tell tales of thee... What are you called?"

"I am Lawrence." He placed a hand on his now aching head, and restored his attention to the road. Horo was in pleasant spirit, her tail wagging jauntily from beneath the blouse of his finest attire. Together they rode toward the new horizons ahead. And thus was how an Artemisian huntress of wild northern hinterlands became the wife of a penniless Walloon merchant.