First some music. I've been in a "creepy things" sort of mood lately, so here's a folksong. This one, "Reynardine," has some uncertain origins and meaning, but it seems pretty clear that it had become popular in both Europe and the United States by the early 19th century and may have been (or based on) a much earlier ballad. Whatever its origins, the atmospheric ambiguity of its narrative certainly stands out: the narrator observes as a young woman, walking through the woods, meets the notorious figure Reynardine about whom we are told little (other than that he is sly and bold, and the interesting physical characteristic that "his teeth did brightly shine"). Reynardine flirts, she refuses but then seems to give in, and once she has come to he simply smiles and indicates that she'll find her way to him sooner or later: "I'll be in my green castle, / Inquire for Reynardine." A final verse eerily depicts the girl, as though stripped of her own will, being led almost mindlessly across the mountains by Reynardine towards some uncertain, foreboding fate. Upsetting, right? Pair that with the repetitive guitar strumming and deep-throated, clarion-clear vocals of Buffy Sainte-Marie (one of the great unsung performers of the days of Joan Baez and Joni Mitchell, and notable as one of a very few celebrities of Native American origin even to this day) of this version, and it's three minutes of unsettling ambiguity and great, understated musical power.
And, if that weren't enough, there's even some more ambiguity at play here. Although it is never explicitly stated, there are many who contend that there is something supernatural about this tale, and that Reynardine is some kind of mythical creature. Keith Reins at Folksongs You Never Sang In School makes a pretty good case for the most popular interpretation of Reynardine as a were-creature, specifically a were-fox; to summarize, the name Reynardine is similar to that of Reynard, the fox character of French folklore, the descriptions of him as sly and bold with shining teeth are common in literary descriptions of foxes, and Reynardine has a stated interest in "concealment," being hidden: "foxes are too clever to make themselves public," Reins observes.
Other arguments hinge around Reynardine as a wood sprite (like Tam Lin or others who meet maidens in the woods in these sorts of songs), and Sainte-Marie seems to have her own idea, giving the track the subtitle of "A Vampire Legend." Which, absolutely: the girl realizes something is up when he tells her he is hiding himself from "pious men," and the description of the trance he puts her into as she follows him across the mountains has echoes of classic vampire mythology.
Whatever the answer here, and however it might have been known to singers and listeners of two hundred or more years ago, today it plays as a song keenly invested in its own atmospherics and ambiguity more than it is interested in telling us what's up - and in some ways, that's the scariest thing of all.
