The wild hunt raced through the sky, taking its monstrous regiment of women, led by the goddess Diana, the Lady, to terrorise the world. The witches of the Sabbat rode into the night and the folk traditions bend and weave this story with those classical paintings of beautiful and tempting half-naked women riding and fighting.

And back in the real world is a woman, of varying degrees of beauty and youth, who gives you a love potion, a poultice for the boil on your bottom, cuts your ingrowing toenails and is also the local midwife. The chances that she flew on a broomstick with no knickers are fantastical, and the underwear part is probably medieval wishful thinking. But the folklore says that on epiphany, the lady, with her wild hunt, would visit the chosen hedge witch and woe betide that woman if she has not laid out a feast and entertainment for her surprised guests.

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