Dracula's Guest And Other Weird Tales

by Bram Stoker

  Soon the country round about had reason to know of the Laidly Worm of Spindleston Heugh. For hunger drove the monster out from its cave and it used to devour everything it could come across. So at last they went to a mighty warlock and asked him what they should do. Then he consulted his works and his familiar, and told them: ‘The Laidly Worm is really the Princess Margaret and it is hunger that drives her forth to do such deeds. Put aside for her seven kine, 1 and each day as the sun goes down, carry every drop of milk they yield to the stone trough at the foot of the Heugh, and the Laidly Worm will trouble the country no longer. But if ye would that she be borrowed to her natural shape, and that she who bespelled her be rightly punished, send over the seas for her brother, Childe Wynd.’

  All was done as the warlock advised, and the Laidly Worm lived on the milk of the seven kine, and the country was troubled no longer. But when Childe Wynd heard the news, he swore a mighty oath to rescue his sister and revenge her on her cruel stepmother. And three-and-thirty of his men took the oath with him. Then they set to work and built a long ship, and its keel they made of the rowan tree.2 And when all was ready, they out with their oars and pulled sheer for Bamborough Keep.

  But as they got near the keep, the stepmother felt by her magic power that something was being wrought against her, so she summoned her familiar imps and said: ‘Childe Wynd is coming over the seas; he must never land. Raise storms, or bore the hull, but nohow must he touch shore.’ Then the imps went forth to meet Childe Wynd’s ship, but when they got near, they found they had no power over the ship, for its keel was made of the rowan tree. So back they came to the queen witch, who knew not what to do. She ordered her men-at-arms to resist Childe Wynd if he should land near them, and by her spells she caused the Laidly Worm to wait by the entrance of the harbour.

  As the ship came near, the Worm unfolded its coils, and dipping into the sea, caught hold of the ship of Childe Wynd, and banged it off the shore. Three times Childe Wynd urged his men on to row bravely and strong, but each time the Laidly Worm kept it off the shore. Then Childe Wynd ordered the ship to be put about, and the witch-queen thought he had given up the attempt. But instead of that, he only rounded the next point and landed safe and sound in Budle Creek, and then, with sword drawn and bow bent, rushed up followed by his men, to fight the terrible Worm that had kept him from landing.

  But the moment Childe Wynd had landed, the witch-queen’s power over the Laidly Worm had gone, and she went back to her bower all alone, not an imp, nor a man-at-arms to help her, for she knew her hour was come. So when Childe Wynd came rushing up to the Laidly Worm it made no attempt to stop him or hurt him, but just as he was going to raise his sword to slay it, the voice of his own sister Margaret came from its jaws saying:

  ‘O quit your sword, unbend your bow,

  And give me kisses three;

  For though I am a poisonous worm,

  No harm I’ll do to thee.’

  Childe Wynd stayed his hand, but he did not know what to think if some witchery were not in it. Then said the Laidly Worm again:

  ‘O quit your sword, unbend your bow,

  And give me kisses three,

  If I’m not won ere set of sun,

  Won never shall I be.’

  Then Childe Wynd went up to the Laidly Worm and kissed it once; but no change came over it. Then Childe Wynd kissed it once more; but yet no change came over it. For a third time he kissed the loathsome thing, and with a hiss and a roar the Laidly Worm reared back and before Childe Wynd stood his sister Margaret. He wrapped his cloak about her, and then went up to the castle with her. When he reached the keep, he went off to the witch queen’s bower, and when he saw her, he touched her with a twig of rowan tree. No sooner had he touched her than she shrivelled up and shrivelled up, till she became a huge ugly toad, with bold staring eyes and a horrible hiss. She croaked and she hissed, and then hopped away down the castle steps, and Childe Wynd took his father’s place as king, and they all lived happy afterwards.

  But to this day, the loathsome toad is seen at times, haunting the neighbourhood of Bamborough Keep, and the wicked witch-queen is a Laidly Toad.

  >THE LAMBTON WORM

  The park and manor-house of Lambton, belonging to a family of the same name, lie on the banks of the Wear, to the north of Lumley. The family is a very ancient one, much older, it is believed, than the twelfth century, to which date its pedigree extends. The old castle was dismantled in 1797, when a site was adopted for the present mansion on the north bank of the swiftly-flowing Wear, in a situation of exceeding beauty. The park also contains the ruins of a chapel, called Brugeford or Bridgeford, close to one of the bridges which span the Wear.

  Long, long ago – some say about the fourteenth century – the young heir of Lambton led a careless, profane life, regardless alike of his duties to God and man, and in particular neglecting to attend mass, that he might spend his Sunday mornings in fishing. One Sunday, while thus engaged, having cast his line into the Wear many times without success, he vented his disappointment in curses loud and deep, to the great scandal of the servants and tenantry as they passed by to the chapel at Brugeford.

  Soon afterwards he felt something tugging at his line, and trusting he had at last secured a fine fish, he exerted all his skill and strength to bring his prey to land. But what were his horror and dismay on finding that, instead of a fish, he had only caught a worm of most unsightly appearance! He hastily tore the thing from his hook, and flung it into a well close by, which is still known by the name of the Worm Well.

  The young heir had scarcely thrown his line again into the stream when a stranger of venerable appearance, passing by, asked him what sport he had met with; to which he replied: ‘Why, truly, I think I have caught the devil himself. Look in and judge.’ The stranger looked, and remarked that he had never seen the like of it before; that it resembled an eft, 3 only it had nine holes on each side of its mouth; and, finally, that he thought it boded no good.

  The worm remained unheeded in the well till it outgrew so confined a dwelling-place. It then emerged, and betook itself by day to the river, where it lay coiled round a rock in the middle of the stream, and by night to a neighbouring hill, round whose base it would twine itself, while it continued to grow so fast that it soon could encircle the hill three times. This eminence is still called the Worm Hill. It is oval in shape, on the north side of the Wear, and about a mile and a half from old Lambton Hall.

  The monster now became the terror of the whole countryside. It sucked the cows’ milk, worried the cattle, devoured the lambs and committed every sort of depredation on the helpless peasantry. Having laid waste the district on the north side of the river, it crossed the stream and approached Lambton Hall, where the old lord was living alone and desolate. His son had repented of his evil life, and had gone to wars in a distant country. Some authorities tell us he had embarked as a crusader for the Holy Land.

  On hearing of their enemy’s approach, the terrified household assembled in council. Much was said, but to little purpose, till the steward, a man of age and experience, advised that the large trough which stood in the courtyard should immediately be filled with milk. This was done without delay; the monster approached, drank the milk, and, without doing further harm, returned across the Wear to wrap his giant form around his favourite hill. The next day he was seen recrossing the river; the trough was hastily filled again, and with the same results. It was found that the milk of ‘nine kye’ was needed to fill the trough; and if this quantity was not placed there every day, regularly and in full measure, the worm would break out into a violent rage, lashing its tail round the trees in the park, and tearing them up by the roots.

  The Lambton Worm was now, in fact, the terror of the North County. It had not been left altogether unopposed. Many a gallant knight had come out to fight with the monster, but all to no purpose; for it possessed the marvellous power of reuniting itself after being cut asunder, and thus was more than a match for the chivalry of the No
rth. So, after many conflicts, and much loss of life and limb, the creature was left in possession of its favourite hill.

  After seven long years, however, the heir of Lambton returned home, a sadder and wiser man – returned to find the broad lands of his ancestors waste and desolate, his people oppressed and well-nigh exterminated, his father sinking into the grave overwhelmed with care and anxiety. He took no rest, we are told, till he had crossed the river and surveyed the Worm as it lay coiled round the foot of the hill; then, hearing how its former opponents had failed, he took counsel in the matter from a sibyl or wise woman.

  At first the sibyl did nothing but upbraid him for having brought this scourge upon his house and neighbourhood; but when she perceived that he was indeed penitent, and desirous at any cost to remove the evil he had caused, she gave him her advice and instructions. He was to get his best suit of mail studded thickly with spear-heads, to put it on, and thus armed to take his stand on the rock in the middle of the river, there to meet his enemy, trusting the issue to Providence and his good sword. But she charged him before going to the encounter to take a vow that, if successful, he would slay the first living thing that met him on his way homewards. Should he fail to fulfil this vow, she warned him that for nine generations no lord of Lambton would die in his bed.

  The heir, now a belted knight, made the vow in Brugeford chapel. He studded the armour with the sharpest spear-heads, and unsheathing his trusty sword took his stand on the rock in the middle of the Wear. At the accustomed hour the Worm uncoiled its ‘snaky twine’, and wound its way towards the hall, crossing the river close by the rock on which the knight was standing eager for the combat. He struck a violent blow upon the monster’s head as it passed, on which the creature, ‘irritated and vexed’, though apparently not injured, flung its tail round him, as if to strangle him in its coils.

  In the words of a local poet –

  ‘The worm shot down the middle stream

  Like a flash of living light,

  And the waters kindled round his path

  In rainbow colours bright.

  But when he saw the armoured knight

  He gathered all his pride,

  And, coiled in many a radiant spire,

  Rode buoyant o’er the tide.

  When he darted at length his dragon strength

  An earthquake shook the rock,

  And the fireflakes bright fell round the knight

  As unmoved he met the shock.

  Though his heart was stout it quailed no doubt,

  His very life-blood ran cold,

  As round and round the wild Worm wound

  In many a grappling fold.’

  Now was seen the value of the sibyl’s advice. The closer the Worm wrapped him in its folds the more deadly were its self-inflicted wounds, till at last the river ran crimson with its gore. Its strength thus diminished, the knight was able at last with his good sword to cut the serpent in two; the severed part was immediately borne away by the swiftness of the current, and the Worm, unable to reunite itself, was utterly destroyed.

  During this long and desperate conflict the household of Lambton had shut themselves within-doors to pray for their young lord, he having promised them that when it was over he would, if conqueror, blow a blast on his bugle. This would assure his father of his safety, and warn them to let loose the favourite hound, which they had destined as the sacrifice on the occasion, according to the sibyl’s requirements and the young lord’s vow. When, however, the buglenotes were heard within the hall, the old man forgot everything but his son’s safety, and rushing out of doors, ran to meet the hero and embrace him.

  The heir of Lambton was thunderstruck: what could he do? It was impossible to lift his hand against his father; yet how else to fulfil his vow? In his perplexity he blew another blast; the hound was let loose, it bounded to its master; the sword, yet reeking with the monster’s gore, was plunged into its heart; but all in vain. The vow was broken, the sibyl’s prediction fulfilled, and the curse lay upon the house of Lambton for nine generations.

  NOTES

  1. kine: Cows.

  2. rowan tree: The European rowan tree was thought to possess magical properties, in particular, protection against malevolent beings.

  3. eft: A newt, or lizard-like animal.

  Notes

  DRACULA’S GUEST AND OTHER WEIRD STORIES

  DRACULA’S GUEST

  1. Munich: Harker recalls having travelled through Germany in the opening sentence of Dracula: ‘3 May. Bistritz.– Left Munich at 8.35 p.m. on 1st May, arriving at Vienna early next morning’ (Bram Stoker, Dracula, ed. Maurice Hindle (London: Penguin Books, 2003), p. 7).

  2. Walpurgis nacht: In German folklore, a feast of the powers of darkness or witches’ sabbath celebrated on the night of 30 April.

  3. the horses… suspiciously: Compare this with the reaction of the horses to the arrival of Count Dracula: ‘Whilst he was speaking the horses began to neigh and snort and plunge wildly, so the driver had to hold them up’ (Stoker, Dracula, p. 16). Similar textual and stylistic comparisons with Dracula can be made throughout this story.

  4. burying suicides at cross-roads: To take one’s life was considered a sin by Christians, and suicides were buried at crossroads with a stake through their bodies and their property confiscated by the State.

  5. men and women… red with blood: Whilst the Eastern Orthodox Church believed that incorrupt corpses denoted sainthood, the Roman Catholics held them to be a sign of vampirism.

  6. yew and cypress: Whilst yew is commonly planted in graveyards and is regarded as a symbol of sadness, branches or sprigs of cypress are often used at funerals as a symbol of mourning.

  7. a beautiful woman… sleeping on a bier: The image of the ‘undead’ women is a frequent feature of Stoker’s stories, from Lucy Westenra in Dracula to Queen Tera in The Jewel of Seven Stars (1903) and Lady Teuta in The Lady of the Shroud (1909).

  8. the sacred bullet: It was believed that a werewolf was immune to damage caused by ordinary weapons, being vulnerable only to silver objects (usually a bullet or a blade), although this is more a reflection of nineteenth-century fiction than folk legends.

  THE JUDGE’S HOUSE

  1. Jacobean style: An English art, architectural and furniture style dominant during the reign of James I (1603–25), Jacobean design followed the general lines of Elizabethan design, but used classical features with greater complexity and with more extravagant ornamentation.

  2. a judge… Assizes: Bram Stoker probably found inspiration for his malicious protagonist in the figure of Judge George Jeffreys (1648–89), Lord Chancellor under King James II (r. 1685– 1701), who was perhaps the most notorious ‘hanging judge’ in English history. Henry Irving’s son, Henry Brodribb, wrote a biography of him, The Life of Judge Jeffreys (London: William Heinemann, 1898).

  3. Tripos: The final honours examinations for university degree subjects at Oxford and Cambridge. The name derives from the three-legged stool on which the examinee would sit.

  4. Harmonical Progression… Elliptic Functions: The listing of such mathematical terminology, continued in later pages of the story, highlights the battle between rational logic and the supernatural threat of the Judge.

  5. a Senior Wrangler: The head of the ‘wranglers’, i.e. of the first class of those who are successful in the Mathematical Tripos at Cambridge University.

  6. Greenhow’s Charity: Stoker could possibly be referring to Dr Edwin Headlam Greenhow (1814–88), physician, sanitarian, clinician and lecturer, whose academic studies and negotiations with the government led to the environmental clean-up in the later nineteenth century and the end of cholera and typhoid epidemics.

  7. Saint Anthony… the point: Born about the middle of the third century at Coma, Egypt, Anthony disposed of his worldly possessions at an early age to devote himself exclusively to an ascetic life, abnegating human contact for twenty years. St Anthony is frequently hailed as the founder of Christian monasticism, and is al
so the patron saint of gravediggers – an ominous indicator, perhaps, of this ascetic student’s fate.

  8. Laplace: Pierre-Simon Laplace (1749–1827) was a gifted French mathematician and astronomer who established the stability of planetary motion. He also excelled at, and made considerable advances in, integral calculus, finite differences and differential equations.

  9. the diamond-paned bay window: The earliest glass was extremely expensive and only available without severe distortions in relatively small panes. As a result almost all windows of the Tudor and Jacobean periods were made up of leaded light panels, often with diamond shapes, called ‘quarries’. The quarries were joined together to form the window light using strips of lead, called ‘cames’, which were soldered together to make up one large glazed area.

  10. Shake! as they say in America: Throughout his stories, Stoker displays a fondness for the colloquial dialect and aphorisms of his foreign or provincial characters. Subsequent reviewers have taken a less enthusiastic stance to this, one review of The Watters Mou (1895) remarking: ‘Conscious of his weakness in the manner of Scottish dialect, Mr Stoker has indulged in that luxury as little as possible, but the little that he does introduce is truly awful’ (‘New Books’, The Dundee Advertiser, 10 January 1895).

  11. he trembled like an aspen: The aspen tree is characterized by elongated, flexible leaves that give it the appearance of ‘shivering’ in the slightest breeze. The aspen’s idiosyncrasy was immortalized in ‘Binsey Poplars’ (1879), by Gerald Manley Hopkins (1844– 89), who moved to Dublin in 1884.

  12. a black cap: A square of black cloth that was part of English judges’ full dress. It was traditionally donned when passing a death sentence.

  THE SQUAW

  In the summer of 1885 Bram Stoker, Henry Irving and Ellen Terry journeyed to Nuremberg and Rothberg in southern Germany in preparation for the Lyceum Company’s production of Faust. In Nuremberg’s castle they visited a torture tower, in which the Iron Virgin was displayed.