The Ballad of Tam Lin
Tam Lin is one of my favourite mythological stories originating from Britain. The ballad weaves a tale of a wistful and adventurous noblewoman, rushing to investigate the rumours of Carterhaugh against all warning, and a knight indoctrinated into a world unfamiliar and terrifying. It’s a powerful reminder that what we hear isn’t always what is true, and that people are often misunderstood when associated with the unknown. Oh, and how easy it is to be swept up by the fair folk if you’re not careful, but that’s not a unique feature of Tam Lin; he isn’t the first victim and he wouldn’t be the last, either.
Even though he’s the titular character, Tam Lin isn’t actually the protagonist. That honour goes to Janet (or Margaret, depending on the version you’re exposed to) as, without her, there would be no ballad. Living a life of normalcy, she wants to experience something exciting, so she rides to Carterhaugh to confirm the rumours that Tam Lin haunts the land. She pulls a double rose to summon him, an act she’d been warned against, and he appears before her. He demands to know why she came despite not having his permission and how does she answer? She tells him that this is her land, and she doesn’t need his command.
Now, the legend states that no woman would be able to leave Carterhaugh unless they were to either give Tam Lin a piece of their clothing (“mantle”) or their virginity (“maidenhead”). Janet gives him the latter and that’s caused some rewrites to paint the exchange as dubious at best.
There’s this obsession with trying to fit Janet into the trope of a damsel with no agency because that’s what we expect of oral stories from pre-modern history. Every choice that is made within Tam Lin is by Janet and only Janet, and she takes on the unexpected role of knight to Tam Lin’s damsel. Interpretations of folklore vary from person to person, and no-one is necessarily right, but the sheer lack of acknowledgment towards Janet’s agency doesn’t sit well with me. Whether that’s because of my passion towards the story or the seemingly wilful ignorance of others, I couldn’t tell you. All I know is that it makes my blood boil.
Back to the story! Janet falls pregnant with Tam Lin’s child, and she tells her father, a quiet man, that this baby isn’t going to be born to a human father. Oh no, the baby is going to be born to a faerie (elfin grey) father, and she isn’t afraid to admit it. She rides back to Carterhaugh and summons Tam Lin once more, and he tells her that he was once human. He fell from his horse and was snatched up by the Faerie Queen. That Queen pays a tithe to Hell every seven years and, of course, Tam Lin thinks he’s going to be next. He’s young, handsome, and full of life — why wouldn’t he be?
This revelation never fails to make me buzz. The concept of Hell has always existed in human society and culture, but the word Hell itself has heavy connections to Christianity and Abrahamic religion. The ballad can be traced back as early as the late 1540s, shortly after King Henry VIII’s reign, and there’s no doubt that the inclusion of Hell was a way for them to incorporate traditional beliefs with their current religious affiliation.
Tam Lin tells Janet that tomorrow is Hallowe’en and that’s when he’ll be riding with the fair folk. Because he used to be human, he gets to ride closest to the town on a white horse, and he asks her to pull him down at Miles Cross. He tells her that they’ll change him into a variety of ghastly creatures, such as a lion and newt. He assures her that he’s still him and he’d never hurt her or their baby.
She does as he asks and when they finally turn him into hot coal, she throws him into a well. He emerges as a reborn human man, and all is well. Except one minor problem: the Faerie Queen. She appears and she’s furious, but there’s absolutely nothing she can do. Janet won Tam Lin, and she must let him go. So, she leaves them with a thinly veiled threat.
Out of all the legends that boast being stories about true love, this one is underrated and misinterpreted, and one that makes my stomach flutter every time I think of it. Tam Lin is vulnerable and raw, and Janet is strong and rebellious. It’s the perfect mix of the fantastical and romantic storytelling of folklore, and a surprisingly modern spin on the damsel and knight roles.