The May Queen

Although less often now, not so many years ago it was not an uncommon sight to see in early spring Maypoles sprouting up on many a village green across England. And then on Mayday itself amongst much feasting and celebration, the Crowning of the May Queen, Morris Dancing etc. A troop of girls all dressed in virgin white would dance around the Maypole garlanding it with many coloured ribbons.

Of course the first of May has long been held, in England and much of Northern Europe, to be the first real day of spring. The time when the fruit trees burst into flower and mother earth abundantly demonstrates that she has awoken from her long winter sleep.

But what of the Maypole and the dance of the virgin girls?

Some believe that the Maypole and its dance are mere shadows, a bowdlerised Victorian revival, of now long forgotten ancient Pagan Rites of Spring. And perhaps that the Maypole should be more properly called the King 'o the May's pole. It is that premise that I now intend to try to expound.

Cast your mind back, if you will, to a time many, no hundreds, of years ago, to when England was not the unified kingdom that we see to day. But more a loose alliance of many earldoms and dukedoms, held only tenuously to the Kings Rule through the shifting allegiances and power plays of the dukes and earls who held the real power in the land. This was also a time when the Church in Rome had not yet become an all powerful socio-political entity, spreading its influence, often through fear and dark prophecies of damnation, throughout its many dominions, that it would later become. This was also a time when the normal people would regard anywhere more than a day's walk or ox-cart ride away to be strange and foreign lands. In short the peasantry, except for when their lords and masters wanted to raise an army, were pretty much left to carry on with life in the way that they always done, and apart from paying due respect, and tithes, to the lord of the manor, without outside interference.

Let us now focus in on the little town of Halfootstow nestling in the rolling hills of what is now sometimes called Middle England.

Halfootstow was not a town as we would understand the term today, more a small village, a few humble dwellings, barns and store houses huddling around the, ancestral, fortified house of Sir Hugo Barron Halfoot. Yet it was the focus, the administrative hub, if you like, to which many peasant farmers for miles around looked to as the seat of their lord and master.

Sir Hugo himself was no great lord, being only of the fifth or sixth rank of nobility, depending how you counted them, held no place at the Kings Court. His allegiance was held in turn to his own lord and master, the Duke of Midshires. Yet to the simple people around Halfootstow Sir Hugo was their lord, their giver of laws, the man to whom they paid their due respect, their tithes, and their rents.

Life for Sir Hugo was in many ways both rewarding and comfortable, but he had a problem. And his problem concerned his droit de seigneur. No, not the "big dog thing; hairy, that needs exercise."* Suggested by one well known author of fantasy novels. But a real, ages old, right. Literally 'the right of lordship', practiced even until quite recently in, dare we say, less socially advanced countries than ours, by lords of the manor over their peasant charges.

And what is this right? Ius primae noctis in Latin.

It was the right of the lord of the manor to be the first man to bed the young bride on her wedding night. And to prove by publicly displaying the blood stained bed sheets that she was in fact, or at least until very recently had been, the true and pure virgin that had been promised to her husband.

Sir Hugo's problem was this. There just weren't very many virgin brides those days, in fact many young women waddled heavily pregnant up the aisle of the little town church to have their nuptials sealed by Father Ignatius, the aging Franciscan Friar who served as their priest. And Sir Hugo liked virgins.

Sir Hugo's particular like of virgins was his only, that he would publicly admit, vice. He was not a violent man, except when he needed to be. He was a gentleman in every meaning of the word. Many young women would complain that their own husband's lovemaking would seem coarse and uncaring after experiencing Sir Hugo's gentle and often highly satisfying invasion of their bodies.

The trouble was; in those days sex was not a private act. With often several generations of a family living in a one room hovel there was no way it could be. And for girls of relatively short life expectancy burgeoning into womanhood the urge to reproduce was particularly strong.

Of course no man thereabouts could deny his lord and master the use of his virgin daughter's body, if such a young woman was to be found. Especially if he was offered a small token of gratitude like a chicken for the pot or a small concession on his tithes or rent. Sir Hugo was not an evil man, he just preferred his women to be young, tight, and preferably intact. Although this practice helped to assuage his lust for virgins he felt that this was being sneaky and undermined the proper dignity of the exercise of his droit de seigneur.

Mayday was already an important event in that community's calendar. A day for feasting, for music and dancing. A day for drinking large quantities of ale and mead, and often, discovered a few weeks afterwards, a few unexpected pregnancies.

Sir Hugo in his way was a learned man. He realised that these Mayday festivities were a watered-down version of the old traditions of giving thanks to the almost forgotten earth spirits for the re-birth of the land after winter. He felt that some attempt should be made to honour this special day in a more appropriate, less bawdy manner. He spent much time seeking out and closely questioning the old sages and storytellers whose verbal traditions stretched back into the very mists of time. He learnt much, some of which was of no use to him as over time it had become garbled and confused, but many a nugget of useful information he gleaned. Some of the more lurid stories, as all the best stories of pagan rites do, spoke of virgin sacrifice as being at the heart of the ceremony.

Virgin sacrifice!

Sir Hugo was a practical, even compassionate man and he knew that throwing away a young life, especially in these days when life was so brief and so hard, would be a pointless waste just to give thanks to some long forgotten god. And a Mortal Sin! His often repressed God-fearing conscience reminded him. But! He thought, the important element here is not the taking of life the spilling on to the earth of virgin blood. He knew a much better, nonfatal and very much more enjoyable way of doing that.

And so Barron Halfoot's plans began to form for not only his own revived Rites of Spring but also a way to exercise his droit de seigneur publicly and with dignity. He would need a Queen 'o the May, a virgin of course. A King 'o the May, handmaidens and gentlemen to attend them both. They should be 'married' and preside over the feast.

And the Barron himself?

He would be the Green Man, the ancient god of forests. His role was obvious!

So plans progressed. Sir Hugo enlisted the aid of the community wise-women to help with the selection of candidates to be Queen o' the May.

Just to be clear here, these wise-women were not witches as some of their sisters would be unkindly dubbed in later years. They were women who had managed to survive into old age in those days of truncated longevity. They were the midwives, the nurses of the sick and dying, the layers-out of the dead. The medicine women of their community. Well learned in herb-lore and insightful readers of human nature these women had no 'magic' about them. They were certainly not the evil witches as which some of their sisters in the craft would be portrayed in later centuries.

Their task here was to find five virgins, the most beautiful in the area, to be the Queen o' the May and her attendants. Then keep them closeted, safe from molestation, intact and train these young women in their roles in the Rituals which Sir Hugo himself had very carefully set out.

Sir Hugo sent out some of his most trusted household servants to find the King 'o the May and his entourage. These young men were required to be the finest examples of young adulthood, tall, straight-backed lean and well muscled. But for the King himself, he need to have one extra, special, qualification. If he was going to display, as the Rituals demanded he should, that most potent and long recognised symbol of fertility...

It had to be an especially impressive one!

During the last few days of April Halfootstow's town square was busy with artisans and tradesmen of many types. Coming and going there were tent makers, haberdashers, tailors and seamstresses. Carpenters set to work building the dais and double throne where the King and Queen of the May would preside over the feast. The town square was decked out in bunting and garlands of spring flowers and leaves. Butchers and cooks slaughtered and started roasting oxen and lambs for the feast. Brewers and vintners brought cart loads of ale and mead. No expense seemed to have been spared. The people of Halfootstow knew that this was going to be the best Mayday feast they had ever seen.

Early on the morning of Mayday the king and his attendants where led into the lodgings of the candidate queens. The King o' the May chose for himself his queen and their hands were joined in a symbolic form of marriage.

At an hour before Noon the town square was full of people who were already making a hearty attack upon the ale and mead that their lord had provided for them. The air was full of the heady aroma of roasting meats and baking breads. The peasantry were keen to get on with the feasting. In the centre of the square stood the closed pavilion in which were the dais and throne of the king and queen. For the moment only Sir Hugo's, special guests, the elders of the community and those who held Rank therein were allowed into this sanctum.

A great clamour broke forth, with a sounding of horns and the banging of drums the King and Queen o' the May paraded in their splendour through the throng in the square. The queen and her maidens dressed in the purest of white, her long flaxen hair brushed out and garlanded with white flowers. The King resplendent in a robe of bright green on his head a wreath of green leaves. And his attendants in more sombre robes of reddish browns. Leading this splendid procession was the Green Man himself, his face hidden by a mask of foliage his long dark green robe flowing around him.

This procession was ushered into the pavilion and the entrance then closed firmly against prying eyes. The 'royal' party were toasted many times by their guests with special strong mead brewed for the occasion.

At a signal from Sir Hugo's steward the Ritual of the day commenced.

The queen helped by her maidens stripped off her robe of pure white and knelt naked before her liege. He too cast aside his robe of bright green revealing to the open gaze of the there assembled company his mighty sceptre of power. This hugely erect example of manhood truly was the King 'o the May's pole.

The queen assisted by her maidens bedecked and garlanded the king's mighty phallus with coloured ribbons. This done she then encircled this huge pole with her hands and coaxed it to even greater heights. Her timing judged to a nicety, just as she had been carefully taught, the queen stood, planted her feet on the bare earth in front of the dais bent almost double from the waist and engulfed the king's crown with her mouth swallowing down the precious fluid that gushed forth. At the very same moment the Green Man stepped forth and covering the Queen's exposed womanhood with his cloak of dark green performed his act of virgin sacrifice.

It should be noted here that Sir Hugo, as the Green Man, whilst performing his vital part of these rituals with due diligence was careful never to expose himself to public gaze. As lord of the manor that would have been undignified.

The Green Man's duty having been done he stood back, once again exposing the queen's nakedness, and there upon the bare earth flowed the blood of her virginity.

Once these rituals were suitably concluded and the King and Queen 'o the May re-attired in their robes and seated once more upon their throne. The sides of the pavilion where throne down and the whole throng of the people of Halfootstow joined in the general feasting and celebrations. With music and dancing the party continued long into the night. Needless to say none of those specially selected virgins remained intact by the end of the night. And the King 'o the May received many petitions from young women to receive of his now famous largess.

Well someone always manages to peek through the tent flaps and report to their friends!

After Mayday was finished and the debris cleared away the former queen was given to the former king to be formally married with a dowry of a small purse of silver coins. So too where her handmaidens given to his attendants but with lesser dowries. Thus over the years many families found themselves nicely setup by the generosity of their lord.

To Sir Hugo's medieval mind his Mayday Rituals were highly symbolic of Man spreading his seeds upon mother earth, then thanking her, by way of the blood of a virgin, when she gave forth in fecundity. A modern, more cynical mind might come to a totally different conclusion entirely...

However these Mayday Rituals continued to be played out in the same form for many future years until they were eventually quashed by the kill-joy Church.

So there you have it, one possible suggestion of how the modern Maypole dances may have originated.

However the question, dear reader, remains.

Is this a carefully researched piece of factual writing, possibly a little embellished for more entertaining reading?

Or.

Did I just make it all up?

And that's Folklore!

I would like to thank Dr Eric Halford and Mrs Mary Witchkins of the Halfordstow Medieval Society for their invaluable help with my research.

*'Wyrd Sisters' by Terry Pratchett. Published 1988 by Victor Gollancz Ltd.