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Lore of the Saelvatici
It is a time of Old gods, of new beliefs and new restrictions on living. Sherewode stretches nearly from coast to coast, from the Humber in the North, to Buckingham in the South; from Willenhall in the West to Crowland, East of Ermine Street, with tendrils running all the way to Kernow, Scotland and Wales. Everywhere Saxons and the old Ænglish are being crushed under the cruel bootheel of the Normans. Thousands of years of history is being stolen, plundered, sold off. Justice and belief are under attack, being rewritten by the Normans – belief in the Christ of the East is in ascendancy while everywhere belief in the Forest gods such as Cernunnos is failing, being discredited, being outlawed. And when Cernunnos himself is slaughtered by Norse gods, the people of Sherewode find themselves all alone. But not all hope is lost. Sherewode is a dangerous place, an Old forest, full of memories, full of the echoes of gods and spirits. It is the refuge of vagabonds and outlaws, cutthroats and Norsemen, Anglo Saxon outcasts and the old Ænglish. It is a place of malice and mystery, a place of hope and vengeance. And something is stirring in the depths of Sherewode. The Sælvatici are rising and with them comes up a ragged band of heroes.
152 pages, Paperback
Published May 16, 2021
About the author
Steven C. Davis
59 books12 followersSteven is an author, a performance poet, a storyteller and the Creative Director behind Tenebrous Texts.
He has created the Saelvatici, a darkly mythic retelling of the Robin Hood myth cycle and the 'Less than Human' series, which examines society through the viewpoint of a social care worker who is a Were-Squirrel.
He has created the Saelvatici, a darkly mythic retelling of the Robin Hood myth cycle and the 'Less than Human' series, which examines society through the viewpoint of a social care worker who is a Were-Squirrel.
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Displaying 1 of 1 review
August 7, 2023
This is a fascinating collection of short stories, narrative poems and pagan inspired folklore type stories of the darker ages. The tales are dark and visceral. There is nothing 'cuddly' about them. This is grim dark foe folk-law that has more in common with real folk-law than many modern interpretations of folk-law you might chose to read.
There is a grim fascinating beauty to this collection, which is in essence background material for a larger body of work. that larger body of work is a re imagined version of the Robin Hood mythology. If this is anything to go by that too will be grimmer and darker than you would generally expect. There isn't much in the way of Lincoln Green and merry thigh slapping going on here. The narrative poem structure of much of this work only adds to the sense of agelessness and timelessness of the stories. They read as if meant to be performed.
Performed on a dark summers night, under the stars, around a campfire that crackles and spits as if it will rage out of control at any moment.
Performed by men and women with antlers tied to their heads, least you hope they are tied on, not grown.
This is visceral, dark, grim and engrossing stuff . It feels real, it feels like the folklore of an England long vanish and forgotten, when Sherwood was a boundless forbidding Forrest full of spirits both benevolent and malicious, often both at the same time. Hunter and hunted. Stag and wolf....
The art work by John Chadwick perfectly supplements the words of Steven C Davis, there is a wonderful woodcut quality to it that fits the material perfectly.
This is a dark read, there is that word again... But I like my folklore, real or otherwise, dark, visceral and threatening. I like to smell the smoke, and taste the blood, and feel the cold sweat upon my back.... I like the fear of the dark woods and everything beyond that tiny fireside that is civilisation....
There is a grim fascinating beauty to this collection, which is in essence background material for a larger body of work. that larger body of work is a re imagined version of the Robin Hood mythology. If this is anything to go by that too will be grimmer and darker than you would generally expect. There isn't much in the way of Lincoln Green and merry thigh slapping going on here. The narrative poem structure of much of this work only adds to the sense of agelessness and timelessness of the stories. They read as if meant to be performed.
Performed on a dark summers night, under the stars, around a campfire that crackles and spits as if it will rage out of control at any moment.
Performed by men and women with antlers tied to their heads, least you hope they are tied on, not grown.
This is visceral, dark, grim and engrossing stuff . It feels real, it feels like the folklore of an England long vanish and forgotten, when Sherwood was a boundless forbidding Forrest full of spirits both benevolent and malicious, often both at the same time. Hunter and hunted. Stag and wolf....
The art work by John Chadwick perfectly supplements the words of Steven C Davis, there is a wonderful woodcut quality to it that fits the material perfectly.
This is a dark read, there is that word again... But I like my folklore, real or otherwise, dark, visceral and threatening. I like to smell the smoke, and taste the blood, and feel the cold sweat upon my back.... I like the fear of the dark woods and everything beyond that tiny fireside that is civilisation....
Displaying 1 of 1 review