Hunting Hellhounds

In America, we have stories about Bigfoot, a huge hairy ape man who isn't at all good to look at.

In England, they have Big Black Dogs.

Big Black Dogs are kind of England's big cryptozoological critter. Usually they basically look about the same- a big black fella with glowing red or green eyes, long fur, cropped ears, and a really fluffy tail. They're typically tall, shepherd-or-collie lookin' dogs, and they howl more than they bark. Aside from the harbinger of (my own) death thing, they're basically everything I'd ever want in a dog.

Drawing this was wish fulfillment. Also: this is literally the exact opposite of my own dog.

There's all kinds of legends. There's the Black Shuck, who you see before you die. Unless you're a woman. Then he'll protect you on your walk home.

(Video rated PG-13 for lots of swears)

There's the Gurt Dog in Somerset, who protects children playing on the hill and lone travellers through the area.

There's the Barghest, who will eat you.

There's Cu Sith, the Scottish variant, who is sometimes green and doesn't really do much other than howl ominously.

And then there's the scads of local dogs that have their own legends and tales and all manner of goodness. Or badness, as the case may be.

London has a few hounds of its own, and I decided to go looking for one. I was near the Old Bailey the other night, taking pictures for my Finding Neverwhere project

Consider these a preview/motivation for actually FINISHING that project.

 Anyways, I was poking around the area, and I saw a sign. And it had this on it.

Well now!, thought I. Not everyday you see a public interest sign with a very large dog on it. So over to it I went, reading in the dim light. It told the story of the Newgate Hound, which goes about like this:

Once, before the church and its cloisters were built, a prison stood at Newgate. Built on and of the bricks of the medieval gate, it faced the great Court buildings, where the hardened reprobates and pitiable debtors alike could see the passive face of Justice looking at them through the slit windows.

Near to the prison, between it and the Old Bailey, was a small passageway called Amen Court.

 At the end of Ave Maria Street, it was where prisoners would leave Newgate for the last time. While its name might have officially been Amen Court, they had another name for it: The Deadman's Walk.

 One day, a man was brought to the prison. He was no debtor, no thief, no murderer; no, in the eyes of the Church and therefore the eyes of the court, he was something far worse. A sorcerer! He was due to stand trial, but it was lean times at Newgate. The prisoners had poor fare and not much of it, and they were hungry... and a sorcerer was the worst of the worst. Ravenously, the man's fellow prisoners fell upon him, devouring him alive. No intervention came from the guards, and it seemed that the prisoners would have no punitive measures taken for their cannibalism...

But they'd eaten a sorcerer, and had forgotten what that meant. The night after the man was killed, a monstrous black dog appeared with hellfire eyes and slavering jaws. The prisoners, spurred by their terror, managed to kill the guards and escape- or so they thought. One by one, the dog hunted them down and killed them, ripping them from head to throat and leaving their bodies to rot in the street.

From then on, it's been said that at night, you can still hear the dog's dragging footsteps in Amen Court, near the avenue facing the jail. Perhaps amongst the iron gratings and scrollwork and roses, you'll be able to see a glimpse of black fur, or the glow of two burning eyes. Perhaps you'll smell him, the stench of blood mixed with the nigh-tangible odor of pure fear. Perhaps you'll hear his growl in the shadow of the steeple.

 Or perhaps you won't.