On the night of February 6, 1127, the townsfolk of Peterborough, England, swore they heard “a whole pack of huntsmen in full cry” thundering across the darkness. Monks who tended the nearby abbey reported phantom horns that kept echoing through the cloisters, a chilling sign that the spectres were anything but ordinary. These eerie eyewitnesses sparked centuries of speculation about the Wild Hunt, a myth that roams from Scandinavia to the Slavic lands, weaving a tapestry of fear, war, and supernatural intrigue.

Speculations About the Wild Hunt

Below, we break down ten of the most intriguing theories that scholars, storytellers, and even metal musicians have offered over the ages. From shifting mythic commanders to death‑coaches that haul souls, each entry reveals a fresh layer of the legend’s ever‑changing folklore.

10 The Mythical Leader Of The Hunt Changed

In the icy reaches of Scandinavia, the Wild Hunt was traditionally heralded by the thunderous barking of Odin’s hounds, a sound that locals took as a forewarning of impending war. Yet cross‑border, the Germanic version swapped Odin for the pagan wind‑god of death, who took the reins of the spectral cavalcade.

Beyond the Germanic sphere, the leadership mantle migrated yet again. In the Celtic‑rich lands of Brittany and Wales, King Arthur himself was sometimes cast as the commander of the midnight chase. Meanwhile, central France introduced a home‑grown hero, the Great Huntsman of Fotainebleau, who allegedly warned citizens of the looming murder of King Henry IV and even the French Revolution.

9 Historical Leaders Were Part Of The Wild Hunt, Too

German folklore from the Rhineland around 1250 tells of Theodoric the Great, the Ostrogoth king who ruled a conquered Italy in the 5th‑6th centuries. In this tale, Theodoric confronts the Wild Hunt while rescuing a maiden named Babehilt from the monstrous huntsman Fasolt, a giant who prowls the forest with a snarling pack of dogs. For medieval Germans, Theodoric’s triumph over Fasolt served as a proud reminder of their heroic lineage.

Later narratives darkened the picture: the devil himself often took the helm, and, on more flamboyant occasions, roguish figures such as Sir Francis Drake were substituted as the Hunt’s charismatic leader.

8 The Hell Wain

Medieval England introduced the Hell Wain, a death‑coach that mirrors the Wild Hunt’s grim procession. Reginald Scot, the 16th‑century author of The Discoverie of Witchcraft, described it as a hell‑born wagon that occasionally streaked across the night sky. On earth, this spectral carriage allegedly gathered the damned and hauled them down to everlasting torment.

Across the Irish Sea, a similar role was played by the Coiste‑Bodhar. In 19th‑century West Virginia, folklore spoke of a black hearse drawn by headless white horses, later updated in the 20th century to a black automobile, all echoing the same macabre motif.

7 The Witches’ Sabbath

Historian Ronald Hutton of the University of Bristol argues that the most familiar Wild Hunt image is a mash‑up of several myths, a synthesis first popularized by Jacob Grimm. Hutton further contends that this composite directly fed early‑modern ideas about the Witches’ Sabbath.

He points to Tacitus’ account of the Harii tribe, who painted themselves black and launched night attacks to invoke either Odin’s ghostly Einherjar or simply terrifying specters. Medieval chronicles from northern Europe later recorded night‑sky sightings of ghostly or demonic hosts, which in turn seeded the folklore of witches abducting children and flying through the night.

6 The Benandanti

The Benandanti were a curious band of were‑wolf‑like figures who, according to historian Carlo Ginzburg, transformed on four specific nights each year to journey to hell and battle the evil witches known as the Malandanti. Their belief system held that while they slept, their spirits roamed the night, safeguarding nearby villagers from harm.

Much like the Benandanti—many of whom faced accusations of Satanism and witchcraft in Friuli during the 16th and 17th centuries—those who claimed to have witnessed the Wild Hunt were also often prosecuted for supernatural crimes.

5 A Larger Mystery Cult?

Ginzburg saw the Benandanti as part of a broader pre‑Christian tradition that permeated rural Europe. He argued that before the Inquisition and the Catholic Counter‑Reformation, north‑western Italy nurtured an indigenous folk‑magic system intimately linked to the natural world.

Austrian scholar Otto Hofler pushed the idea further, suggesting the Wild Hunt pointed to a continuity between Germanic paganism and German folk customs under Christianity. Though Hofler’s reputation suffered due to his association with Heinrich Himmler’s Ahnenerbe, his notion that the Hunt functioned as a kind of ancestor worship—mirroring Mediterranean mystery cults—remains compelling. He even likened the participants to a secret society akin to the Mithras mysteries.

4 The Specter Of Herne The Hunter

Herne the Hunter looms large in English folklore as the lord of Windsor Forest and Great Park in Berkshire. Shakespeare alludes to him in The Merry Wives of Windsor, where Mistress Page describes Herne’s midnight horn, his ability to turn milk into blood, and the clanking chain he shakes during the cold months.

Margaret Murray later claimed Herne represented an ancient Celtic witch‑god, part of a widespread pre‑Christian underground religion that featured fertility rites and, of course, the Wild Hunt.

3 Corpse Paint?

While corpse paint—those stark black‑and‑white facial designs—first gained fame through performers like Kiss, Alice Cooper, and Arthur Brown, its origins are far murkier. Some trace it back to Black Death theatre, where actors painted themselves as the dead. Austrian black‑metal musician Kadmon, however, argues that corpse paint actually descends from the Oskorei, the Wild Hunt traditions of Scandinavia and the German‑speaking Alps.

According to Kadmon, Oskorei participants were young men who rode through winter nights, punishing those who ignored local customs. He also notes that modern Perchten parades in the Alpine region retain echoes of these ancient hunts.

2 The Furious Host

In medieval Germany, the Wild Hunt was often called the Furious Host. Tradition held that the fury stemmed from both the howling wind and the thunderous gallop of Wotan (or Wodan) and the souls of the dead. The phrase “joining the old host” became a euphemism for death itself.

Kadmon again links this terrifying procession to black metal, noting that the Oskorei ritual likely involved loud, frightening noises—an auditory spectacle that would feel right at home in a modern Halloween celebration.

1 The Wild Hunt And Yule

Long before Christianity turned Yule into a celebration of Christ’s birth, ancient Germanic pagans marked the season with gift‑giving, sacrificial rites, and feasting. The twelve Yule days—roughly December 25 through January 6—were considered a period of potent magic when the veil between the living and the dead thinned.

During Yule, Odin rode freely through the sky, his spectral horsemen hunting for weary souls. Modern parallels abound: figures like Krampus in Austria and the Perchta/Berchta celebrations in Switzerland, Slovenia, and neighboring regions all occur around Christmas, echoing the Wild Hunt’s festive yet fearsome spirit.