The Horned Women
by Joseph Jacobs · from Collected Folk Tales
Adapted Version
One night, Anna was spinning yarn alone. Her kin was asleep. It was very quiet.
Knock, knock! "Open! Open!" said a voice. "Who is there?" asked Anna. "I am the One-Horn Lady," said the voice. Anna opened the door. A one-horn lady came in. "Can I help you spin?" she asked. "Yes, please," said Anna. The lady sat and spun yarn fast.
Knock, knock! "Open! Open!" said a new voice. Anna opened the door. A lady with two horns came in. "Can I help too?" she asked. "Yes, please," said Anna. She sat down and spun yarn.
Knock, knock! "Open! Open!" said a third voice. A lady with three horns came in. "Can I also help?" she asked. "Yes, please," said Anna. Now three ladies were spinning yarn with Anna. They worked in quiet.
"Can you bake a cake?" asked the One-Horn Lady. "Yes," said Anna. "Please get some water," said the Two-Horn Lady. Anna took a sieve to get water. But the water fell out! Oh no! Anna felt a little sad.
A friendly voice spoke. It was the Well Voice. "Use soft clay and green moss," it said. "Fix the sieve with them." Anna did this. Now the sieve could hold water! "Thank you!" said Anna.
"Now go home," said the Well Voice. "Say: 'Open for friends, not for foes!'" Anna went to her door. She said, "Open for friends, not for foes!" The three ladies inside heard her. "Oh!" they said. They sounded surprised. They flew away to a far-off mountain.
The Well Voice spoke again. "Sprinkle magic water by the door," it said. "Break the cake. Lock the cloth. Bar the door." Anna did each step with care. She sprinkled magic water. She broke the cake. She locked the cloth in a box. She barred the door with a big beam.
The three ladies came back. "Open, magic water!" they cried. "I cannot," said the water. "I am magic now!" "Open, door!" they cried. "I cannot," said the door. "I am locked!" "Open, cake!" they cried. "I cannot," said the cake. "I am broken!" The ladies flew away. "We won't come back!" they said.
Anna and her kin were safe. They kept the pretty cloth. It helped them think of that night. Anna smiled. Her kin slept in peace. The special cloth was safe. And they lived in joy ever after.
Remember to listen to wise friends. Be clever to stay safe.
Original Story
THE HORNED WOMEN
rich woman sat up late one night carding and preparing wool, while all the family and servants were asleep. Suddenly a knock was given at the door, and a voice called, "Open! open!"
"Who is there?" said the woman of the house.
"I am the Witch of one Horn," was answered.
The mistress, supposing that one of her neighbours had called and required assistance, opened the door, and a woman entered, having in her hand a pair of wool-carders, and bearing a horn on her forehead, as if growing there. She sat down by the fire in silence, and began to card the wool with violent haste. Suddenly she paused, and said aloud: "Where are the women? they delay too long." [35]
Then a second knock came to the door, and a voice called as before, "Open! open!"
The mistress felt herself obliged to rise and open to the call, and immediately a second witch entered, having two horns on her forehead, and in her hand a wheel for spinning wool.
"Give me place," she said; "I am the Witch of the two Horns," and she began to spin as quick as lightning.
And so the knocks went on, and the call was heard, and the witches entered, until at last twelve women sat round the fire—the first with one horn, the last with twelve horns.
And they carded the thread, and turned their spinning-wheels, and wound and wove, all singing together an ancient rhyme, but no word did they speak to the mistress of the house. Strange to hear, and frightful to look upon, were these twelve women, with their horns and their wheels; and the mistress felt near to death, and she tried to rise that she might call for help, but she could not move, nor could she utter a word or a cry, for the spell of the witches was upon her.
Then one of them called to her in Irish, and said, "Rise, woman, and make us a cake."
Then the mistress searched for a vessel to bring water from the well that she might mix the meal and make the cake, but she could find none.
And they said to her, "Take a sieve and bring water in it."
And she took the sieve and went to the well; but [36] the water poured from it, and she could fetch none for the cake, and she sat down by the well and wept.
Then a voice came by her and said, "Take yellow clay and moss, and bind them together, and plaster the sieve so that it will hold."
This she did, and the sieve held the water for the cake; and the voice said again:
"Return, and when thou comest to the north angle of the house, cry aloud three times and say, 'The mountain of the Fenian women and the sky over it is all on fire.'"
And she did so.
When the witches inside heard the call, a great and terrible cry broke from their lips, and they rushed forth with wild lamentations and shrieks, and fled away to Slievenamon, where was their chief abode. But the Spirit of the Well bade the mistress of the house to enter and prepare her home against the enchantments of the witches if they returned again.
And first, to break their spells, she sprinkled the water in which she had washed her child's feet, the feet-water, outside the door on the threshold; secondly, she took the cake which in her absence the witches had made of meal mixed with the blood drawn from the sleeping family, and she broke the cake in bits, and placed a bit in the mouth of each sleeper, and they were restored; and she took the cloth they had woven, and placed it half in and half out of the chest with the padlock; and lastly, she secured the door with a great crossbeam fastened in [37] the jambs, so that the witches could not enter, and having done these things she waited.
Not long were the witches in coming back, and they raged and called for vengeance.
"Open! open!" they screamed; "open, feet-water!"
"I cannot," said the feet-water; "I am scattered on the ground, and my path is down to the Lough."
"Open, open, wood and trees and beam!" they cried to the door.
"I cannot," said the door, "for the beam is fixed in the jambs and I have no power to move."
"Open, open, cake that we have made and mingled with blood!" they cried again.
"I cannot," said the cake, "for I am broken and bruised, and my blood is on the lips of the sleeping children."
Then the witches rushed through the air with great cries, and fled back to Slievenamon, uttering strange curses on the Spirit of the Well, who had wished their ruin; but the woman and the house were left in peace, and a mantle dropped by one of the witches in her flight was kept hung up by the mistress in memory of that night; and this mantle was kept by the same family from generation to generation for five hundred years after.
[38]
Story DNA
Moral
Be wary of strangers and their intentions, and use wit and ancient wisdom to protect yourself and your loved ones from malevolent forces.
Plot Summary
A rich woman is alone at night when a series of horned witches invade her home, compelling her to make a cake. Sent to fetch water in a sieve, she is aided by a mysterious voice that instructs her to seal the sieve and then to utter a specific cry that causes the witches to flee. The voice, revealed as the Spirit of the Well, then guides her through protective rituals. When the witches return, they are thwarted by the magical barriers and the talking objects, ultimately fleeing in defeat, leaving the woman and her family safe.
Themes
Emotional Arc
fear to relief
Writing Style
Narrative Elements
Cultural Context
Joseph Jacobs collected and retold this tale, likely from oral traditions, in the late 19th century. The story reflects common Irish folklore motifs of malevolent supernatural beings and the use of folk magic for protection.
Plot Beats (13)
- A rich woman is alone at night, carding wool.
- A witch with one horn knocks, demands entry, and begins to card wool.
- More witches arrive, each with an increasing number of horns, until twelve are present, all working silently.
- The witches compel the woman to make a cake, instructing her to fetch water in a sieve.
- The woman goes to the well, struggles to carry water in the sieve, and weeps.
- A mysterious voice at the well instructs her to plaster the sieve with clay and moss to hold water.
- The voice then tells her to cry out a specific phrase at the north angle of her house upon her return.
- The woman follows the instructions, and the witches inside shriek and flee to Slievenamon.
- The Spirit of the Well advises the woman to perform specific protective rituals: sprinkle feet-water, break the blood-mixed cake, secure the woven cloth, and bar the door.
- The woman performs all the protective actions.
- The witches return, demanding entry, but the feet-water, door, and cake refuse them, explaining why they cannot open.
- The witches, enraged, flee permanently, cursing the Spirit of the Well.
- The woman and her family are safe, and a witch's mantle is kept as a family heirloom for generations.
Characters
The Rich Woman ★ protagonist
None explicitly mentioned, likely a woman of means given her household and activities.
Attire: None explicitly mentioned, infer period-appropriate Irish peasant dress for a wealthy woman, perhaps a simple gown or kirtle.
Resourceful, brave, quick-thinking, maternal.
Image Prompt & Upload
A regal middle-aged woman with an elegant updo of silver-streaked hair, wearing a deep emerald velvet gown with gold embroidery and a high collar. She stands tall and poised, one hand resting on a jeweled scepter, the other holding a small, ornate gilded mirror. Her expression is one of calm, knowing authority, with a slight, confident smile. She wears multiple rings and a heavy pearl necklace. Plain white background, full body visible head to toe, single figure, no watermark, no text, no signature.
The Witch of one Horn ⚔ antagonist
A woman with a single horn on her forehead, as if growing there.
Attire: None explicitly mentioned, infer dark, simple, possibly tattered clothing befitting a witch.
Sinister, aggressive, part of a collective evil.
Image Prompt & Upload
An elderly woman with a single twisted, dark horn protruding from her forehead, her face gaunt with deep wrinkles and a cruel, thin-lipped smile. She has wild, graying hair and wears tattered, layered black robes that appear woven from shadows. Her posture is hunched as she leans on a gnarled wooden staff, her long, bony fingers gripping it tightly. A faint, ominous green glow emanates from her eyes. Plain white background, full body visible head to toe, single figure, no watermark, no text, no signature.
The Witch of the two Horns ⚔ antagonist
A woman with two horns on her forehead.
Attire: None explicitly mentioned, infer dark, simple, possibly tattered clothing befitting a witch.
Sinister, aggressive, part of a collective evil.
Image Prompt & Upload
An elderly crone with a hunched posture, her face gaunt and wrinkled with a sinister, knowing smirk. Two large, twisted, dark ram-like horns protrude from her tangled, iron-gray hair. She wears layered, tattered robes of deep purple and black, with a frayed hood partially drawn. Her eyes glow with a faint, sickly green light, and her long, bony fingers, tipped with sharp, dirty nails, are extended as if about to cast a spell. Plain white background, full body visible head to toe, single figure, no watermark, no text, no signature.
The Spirit of the Well ◆ supporting
Invisible, only a voice is heard.
Attire: Not applicable.
Benevolent, wise, guiding.
Image Prompt & Upload
A translucent, ethereal young woman with an ageless appearance, her form shimmering like moonlight on water. Her long, flowing hair and simple, draped gown appear to be made of liquid, shifting between pale blue and silver. She has a serene, gentle expression and stands gracefully at the edge of an ancient stone well, one hand lightly resting on its mossy rim. Her posture is poised yet relaxed, as if listening to the water's whispers. The scene is at night, with soft moonlight illuminating the well and surrounding foliage. Plain white background, full body visible head to toe, single figure, no watermark, no text, no signature.
Locations
Rich Woman's House (Interior)
A cozy, domestic interior, likely a main living area or kitchen, where the rich woman was carding wool by the fire.
Mood: Initially peaceful and domestic, quickly turns eerie, frightening, and spellbound.
The rich woman is terrorized by the horned witches who invade her home and cast a spell on her and her family.
Image Prompt & Upload
Evening light filters through tall, leaded glass windows into a grand yet cozy living room. A massive stone fireplace dominates one wall, its roaring fire casting dancing shadows and a warm, amber glow across the scene. In front of the hearth, a low wooden table holds a basket of raw fleece, carding brushes, and a half-finished bundle of wool. Plush, deep-red velvet armchairs and a worn leather sofa are arranged on a thick Persian rug. The walls are paneled in dark, polished oak, with shelves of leather-bound books and brass candlesticks. A copper kettle simmers near the fire. The atmosphere is warm, quiet, and richly textured, filled with the soft light of flames and the deep colors of wealth and domestic comfort. no border, no frame, no watermark, no text, no signature, edge-to-edge illustration
The Well
A water source, likely a stone well, located outside the rich woman's house.
Mood: Desperate and sorrowful, then becomes a place of divine intervention and hope.
The rich woman attempts to fetch water in a sieve, weeps in despair, and receives guidance from a mysterious voice to defeat the witches.
Image Prompt & Upload
Late afternoon golden hour light filters through ancient oak trees, casting long shadows across a cobblestone path leading to a moss-covered stone well. The circular well, built from weathered grey stone with iron reinforcements, features a wooden bucket resting on its thick stone lip, a rope coiled beside it. A gentle mist rises from the water's dark surface, reflecting the amber sky. Surrounding the well is a meticulously kept garden with trimmed hedges and wildflowers, bordered by a high ivy-covered stone wall. Beyond the wall, the distant silhouette of a grand manor house with tall chimneys is visible. A single dragonfly hovers over the well, and a fallen leaf floats on the still water. The atmosphere is serene, quiet, and slightly magical, with soft warm colors of amber, deep green, and stone grey. no border, no frame, no watermark, no text, no signature, edge-to-edge illustration
North Angle of the House
The exterior corner of the house, specifically the 'north angle'.
Mood: Tense and pivotal, a point of action and release.
The rich woman cries out the phrase that breaks the witches' spell and causes them to flee.
Image Prompt & Upload
Dusk settles over the north angle of a grand, ancient stone house. The weathered corner where two moss-covered walls meet is softened by creeping ivy. A single, small arched window with a dark wooden frame glows with a faint, warm amber light from within. The air is cool and still, with a hint of mist clinging to the shadowed ground. Deep blues and greys dominate the stonework, contrasted by the vibrant green of the moss and the last sliver of peach-colored sky visible between the roofline and the distant, misty forest. The scene is quiet, mysterious, and deeply atmospheric. no border, no frame, no watermark, no text, no signature, edge-to-edge illustration.
Slievenamon
A mountain, described as the chief abode of the witches.
Mood: Mysterious, wild, and a place of dark power and refuge for the witches.
The witches flee to this mountain after their spell is broken and return here after their second attempt to enter the house fails.
Image Prompt & Upload
Slievenamon mountain at twilight, shrouded in a low, swirling mist. The peak is a jagged silhouette against a deep indigo sky streaked with bruised purple and cold silver. Ancient, gnarled hawthorn trees twist from rocky outcrops, their bare branches like skeletal fingers. A path of pale, worn stone winds upward, flanked by moss-covered standing stones etched with faint, glowing sigils. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and peat. Eerie, bioluminescent fungi cast a faint, ghostly blue glow on the wet rocks. A sense of profound, watchful silence permeates the scene. No border, no frame, no watermark, no text, no signature, edge-to-edge illustration.
