The Witch-Mare of Orra—A Forgotten Nightmare Myth

Ah, Urra—barely discernible through the oppressive cloud that choked my aimless trudge around the moor it so generously lends its name to. It is also the setting for the utterly enthralling tale of the Witch-Mare of Orra. A legend I have alluded to with tiresome frequency, though clearly without bothering to grasp its finer points. How terribly negligent of me.

In Germanic and Slavic folklore, a mare is a nasty little creature that plants itself on people’s chests while they sleep, inducing nightmares—hence the name. Richard Blakeborough, a local folklorist, claimed he was entirely unaware that the North Riding had any witch-mare tales until he stumbled upon the Calvert Folklore Manuscript. This manuscript, packed with North Yorkshire oddities from the 1820s, now resides at the Leeds Archive of Vernacular Culture¹Brotherton Library, Leeds University., because where else would you stash such treasures? Blakeborough also leaned heavily on notes from the Vicar of Northallerton, which added to his retelling in the Whitby Gazette on 17 February 1905²Blakeborough, Richard. ‘Tales Our Grandmothers Told’ | Whitby Gazette | 17 February 1905 | British Newspaper Archive’. <https://www.britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk/viewer/bl/0001103/19050217/247/0008> [accessed 23 May 2023].

The story centres on Robert Wardle, a blacksmith whose wife, Ruth, vanishes under mysterious circumstances. Thrilling start, I know.

Ruth’s mother had warned her against giving water to strangers at the door, because obviously that is the height of recklessness. Ruth, being a dutiful daughter, heeds this advice—right up until when she does not. She unwittingly offers water to a disguised old beggar, who turns out to be a witch. Robert, understandably distraught, consults a wise man. Wise men always know what to do in these situations. He is handed cryptic instructions: brand his wife with a unique mark and keep the pieces of a shattered china cup. As one does.

Naturally, the witch has cursed Ruth, and transforms her into a mare, which seems to me to be a female horse, not the mare of nightmares.

A year or so passes, and Robert eventually spots a mare with the same brand. Following his sage advisor’s instructions, he kisses the branded leg, how romantic and commands the witch to stay rooted to the ground. Miraculously, the mare turns back into Ruth, who reveals the whole witch-related ordeal. Robert confronts the witch and demands the missing piece of the cup, which, for reasons best left unexplored, breaks the spell and reunites him with his wife.

If there is a moral to this tale, it is a mishmash of warnings against breaking promises, giving in to temptation, and the idea that love and loyalty conquer all. How inspirational.

Blakeborough, ever the scholar, speculated that this story was merely the second half of a lost legend. The narrative is riddled with assumptions that the audience already knows what is going on—Ruth’s mother, the cup, the witch, all supposedly playing roles in events no one has bothered to record. He was convinced that this tale was based on the original “Witch-mare” legend of Scandinavia, where temptation (embodied by a certain Bella) was handled with far less modesty. It seems the Victorian penchant for sanitisation did not spare folklore. What a pity.

For those intrigued by this convoluted tale, I have included the full story on a separate page. Enjoy.

• 1
  Brotherton Library, Leeds University.
• 2
  Blakeborough, Richard. ‘Tales Our Grandmothers Told’ | Whitby Gazette | 17 February 1905 | British Newspaper Archive’. <https://www.britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk/viewer/bl/0001103/19050217/247/0008> [accessed 23 May 2023]