Aldebaran as Fairy Knight : On Virtue Challenged, and Face Unblemished
Maxmilián Pirner, The Fairy-Tale Knight, 1907
That Faery concerns itself with matters of the stars and star-worship – this much I know and have no doubt about. Since 2020, my quest for the gods and spirits of (or in ?) the stars led me to a quest for the “gods of the gods” of my own spiritual family, which resulted in a personal cosmology oftentimes expanding with surprising conclusions : evidences of the fae having a “star religion” or engaging in “star worship” have strongly reaffirmed my primal interest in astrology, as well as fueled a growing obsession for the lore of fixed stars in general, while encouraging ongoing practices of astrolatry as part of my own magical inclinations.
“The seven main stars represent the Queens in the sky with Aldebaran as the Hunter, a Fairy Knight who follows them and guards their journey. The cycle of the Pleiades through the year is the cycle of these queens, symbolizing their waning and waxing presence in the human world, their holding court in the sky, their ride with their people. Each holy day is a time to remember and acknowledge the queens and this eternal journey, and to remember the intrinsic joining of the two worlds : fairy and earth.”
— Morgan Daimler, Living Fairy : Fairy Witchcraft and Star Worship (2020)
Morgan Daimler, author of a pioneer work on fairy faith and astrology, explores these links outlined above between the world of Faery and the stars particularly through her extensive research on the Pleiades. She is also, that I know of, the first author to explicitly posit a link between Aldebaran and fairy knights, in fact, to see Aldebaran as fairy knight, and to be unafraid to share and act upon her related UPG following a calendar that is not primarily solar or lunar, but stellar, marked by the waxing and waning of the stars in the sky and particularly around the Vernal Equinox. Al-Dabaran means ‘the Follower’, and Daimler argues that Aldebaran the Knight follows indeed the trail of the Seven Sisters, or Seven Fairy Queens, of the Pleiades in the night sky. In her book Living Fairy, she writes :
“When the star-fire that is the Pleiades returns to the night sky, the Queens have returned to their celestial Courts, figuratively speaking. This ritual also acknowledges another sacred star, Aldebaran, part of the constellation of Taurus which has been tied to the mythology of the Pleiades in many cultures. Aldebaran appears to follow the Pleiades through the sky – hence the meaning of the name in Arabic – but I call it the Hunter, after one of the liminal Gods in fairy witchcraft. In this case of course he isn’t hunting the seven Queens but protecting them as they travel across the sky.”
(As we shall soon explore, the lore of the Hunter is in fact deeply relevant to Aldebaran as fairy knight – whether it is fate hunting for its beholder, an innocent youth chased by their nemesis, or a noble soul engaged on a quest to prove their worth.)
Astrologer Sasha Ravitch also researched the Pleaides and their link to Faery quite extensively, particularly with fixed star Alcyone – and she, too, was led to see in Aldebaran a Fairy Knight. More specifically, Sasha’s research remarked upon a connexion between the ‘Four Royal Stars of Persia’, and the world of Faery. I know this because this is one of the reasons I am so fascinated by Sasha’s work – her ability to map out one’s spiritual life in the sky by following the stars through constellations and their stories, like breadcrumbs peppered on the forest’s floor of a beloved fairytale. Crucially, Sasha comments upon how an abundance of the Royal Stars’ presence in a natal chart might indicate certain affiliation of the native with the Others, in particular from an ancestral point of view – the same way some other stars are more indicative of innate witchcraft abilities (Acumen/Aculeus, Alphard, Algol…) or of talents of storytelling, prophecy and divination (Castor, Procyon, Vega…). I registered that, if one is closely pacted to Them, one likely has a lot of the Royal Stars showing up in their chart – but that is not to say any and all Royal Stars present in a chart necessarily bear witness to such a compact (as ever, spirits will do and show what spirits will do and show). Sasha’s research intuitively made a lot of sense to me, embroiled as I am in a complex matrix of pacts and contracts with the Pale Ones, and who has been told by multiple astrologers, to my great bewilderment, that it shows. How traces of Faery can be seen in the natal wheel, and traced in the night sky, has since then become a niche interest of mine.
Given the willful, extreme quality of the courtly Stars and the courtly Cousins, heightening potential for gifts of riches and prestige in equal proportion with that of a malefic fallout and self-inflicted demise (giving one just enough rope to hang themselves with), I reflected upon how this connexion seemed all too pervasive, in dealing with Them, when it comes to the upholding of vows, binding oath-keeping, and the necessity to Speak True (or what others may have called ‘fairy etiquette’).
According to Bernadette Brady, who studied the fixed stars, their blessings and virtues closely, the Four Royal Stars of Persia come with great blessings and fortune to bestow if the native can but rise up to the one corresponding challenge : these are Regulus, Antares, Fomalhaut, and of course Aldebaran. Regulus (in Leo) teaches success through nobility while resisting the impulse for bitter or petty revenge. Antares (in Scorpius) gives probing obsessions which need to be kept in check less they become all too consuming and risk poisoning the soul. Fomalhaut (in Piscis Australis) concerns itself with dreams, ideals, and the will to creatively act upon them in this world. And Aldebaran (in Taurus) deals with issues of honour and integrity – two qualities which happen to be particularly important and relevant to the imaginary of knights. Each of these stars is also associated with a cardinal direction – Regulus in the North, Antares in the West, Fomalhaut in the South, and Aldebaran in the East.
Of all the Royal Stars, Aldebaran is arguably thought to be the greatest (rising in the East, in the direction of the Sun, but also, in the Western occult language, the direction of Air, of divine inspiration as ‘that which breathes life into’, of performative speech and of sacred utterance). While I cannot vouch for this to be necessarily true (many, for example, would argue in favour of the most regal of all the Royals, Regulus, to be of greatest importance), Aldebaran’s hurdles and life lessons are the ones that are near and dear to my heart, and which I have come to be most familiar with.
Frank Bernard Dicksee, La Belle Dame Sans Merci (c.1901)
According to Ptolemy, Aldebaran, the Watcher in the East, is of the nature of Mars, bequeathing the star with double-sided warrior qualities – and it is true that Aldebaran, has a “bullish nature, inclined to temper tantrums” (quote from talismanic materia crafter extraordinaire, Kaitlin Coppock). But Aldebaran also embodies the best of what a warrior has to offer, which is world building and protecting, guarding and defending what is one’s own (notions of physical integrity, property, and preciosity already piercing through) – a warrior who, to borrow more of Kaitlin’s words, “is strongly related to Sovereignity and Kingship; and, as whoever they are say, “heavy is the head” [our emphasis – this will quickly become relevant, as notions of loosing one’s mind, or one’s head, unfold].” She adds : “It takes an incredibly strong ego-vessel — to say nothing of tremendous audacity! — to envision and then create a world of one’s own”. A good example of this fierce warrior-like nature of Aldebaran which creates and destroys is reflected in the lore of Archangel Michael slaying the demon, and for all these reasons indeed the star has been associated with him (and there is no doubt something to be said of the lore of fallen angels and the fae).
In her Book of Fixed Stars, Brady writes :
“The four royal stars of Persia are all very powerful stars and each one offers the possibility of glory, success, or happiness, but only if a particular nemesis can be overcome. In the case of Aldebaran, this challenge is one of integrity or honor. Greatness can be achieved but the individual will be challenged on issues of integrity and purity of their thoughts and dealings. If they fail this test they loose everything.”
Thus, so teaches Aldebaran, of all the precious boons one might be called to arms to defend, guard and protect, none is more precious than one’s honour – tied to one’s word, and one’s moral integrity – in short : one’s Virtue. The star’s sentence is clear and without appeal : should one compromise or tamper with their honourable position, or go against their own integrity, great calamity would ensue, and what was gained will be lost completely as negative results unfold. Aldebaran figuratively dubs its native, in a celestial ceremony of adoubement or accolade in which stars and planets are co-present, but should the native fail to live up to the responsibilities of knighthood, catastrophic consequences arise.
There exist, in Celtic lore (particularly Gaelic, and specifically Irish), a closely related notion : that of a geis, or geasa (plural). The simple, scholarly way to explain what a geis is would be to say that it is a manner of ritual prohibition, a spiritual taboo. In practice, it is a strange concept from the Isles and Gaul, an integral part of fairy faith, fairy seership, fairy doctoring, as well as other religions and traditions linked to Faery. A geis, as I was taught by my mentor, is a sort of oath to which one’s soul is sworn. All magical powers have a price, and the geis is that price. It is both a two-sided forbiddance that can be one’s own undoing, and the pact or destiny that is theirs, with all that this entails. Gessi / Geasa generally come in twos or threes, and great practitioners of magic as well as great spirits (such as gods) are the ones to lay them out on a person. So can also great fairy teachers from this world and the other. Geasa mark you because they mark your soul. Alternatively, they can be guessed or divined by great practitioners, revealed to the beholder by gods, or issued by big spirits – like a duel or challenge that cannot be refused. Some geasa are made, others seem to simply be divined – fairy seers or poets reciting them to the beholder. Essentially, a geis is a fatal flaw, a lethal weakness linked to one’s fate. The Great Hero Cú Chulainn could not eat the flesh of a hound, for he was pacted with them, he also could not refuse hospitality, and that was his undoing, as he was tricked into accepting a feast of dog-meat. Magical and spiritual taboos tied to one’s fate are knots in the loom of the Wyrd’s tapestry – prohibitions which can range from the most innocuous thing, such as the colours of one’s clothes, to the more fateful ones (such as the consumption of certain foods, or sexual behaviours). Fate is nothing short of what, or who, one’s soul is sworn to. Breaking a geis thus has catastrophic consequences, bringing great personal ruin, leading to death. They are the key to both someone’s power and undoing. Certain great kings were said to have as many as seven or nine gessi, which goes to show the perception of how the more important the person is in the hierarchy of the world, the more responsibilities, obligations, and duties they are seen to have in the face of the powers unseen. Tricking someone into breaking one of their geis leads to them being utterly defeated and destructed. Knowing of one’s gessi, in my own tradition, is thus extremely important, as sometimes sadly geasa are discovered too late, upon breaking them. They fucntion much like blood curses, and have as much power over someone’s fate as someone’s name, which is why they are kept very secret.
Oathbreaking, in my tradition, is consequently a very serious, very terrible thing. I come from a lineage where notions of honour, face, word, breath / speech and soul, are deeply intertwined in our personal cosmology : if your word cannot be trusted, then so can’t your face, and your honour is null. Breaking an oath is unspeakable, for it leaves a soul-mark, and, so I was taught, it must be avoided at all costs. We can smell a warlock from a mile away due to the very gaping holes in their soul caused by the breaking of promises and vows, particularly of a spiritual / magical nature – these hollow places of hunger and despair they are desperately trying to fill, just as visible as the gnawing mechanism in a pretender which seeks to consume and appropriate. Naturally, all this ties in to how Gaelic cultures are predominently a strong oral literature type of culture, big on historiolae, spoken charms, performative speech and verbal spells – the Rosc being the most well known. But this is a conversation for another time.
Back to our Royal Red Star – Aldebaran, Watcher in the East – and Watcher of the Breath, Performative Speech, Divine Inspiration and Air. Seeing the star as a potential great bequeather of geasa does not seem particularly far-fetched to me, and I would closely examine its presence in a chart that is tied to the Others from this particular angle. Considering the established honour and integrity challenges brought about by Aldebaran, the parallels with chivalry and a knight’s ethics is irresistible. If Regulus is the King, Aldebaran is the Knight, Antares the éminence grise, the Dark Adviser or Counsellor, and Fomalhaut the Pope, Hierophant or Mystic. This prolific constellation of words and themes existing between these different notions of chivalry, fairy knights, and the star that is thought of as the Red Eye of the Sacrificial Bull – providing food for the dead – I think illustrates itself particularly well in a mythical example I have studied closely, and which I believe aptly reflects the archetypal, mythopoetical language of Aldebaran : Sir Gawain and the Green Knight – an Arthurian tale of courage, and of the limitations of one’s virtue. Green being just the opposite of red according to colorimetry (and polar opposites being the mirror of the same truths according to my Gaelic beliefs), I hope dear Aldebaran will forgive me for jumping from the bloodshot eye of the bull to the verdant severed head of an uncanny knight.
“Yes, garbed all in green was the gallant rider,
And the hair on his head was the same hue as his horse,
And floated finely like a fan round his shoulders. . . .
Such a horse, such a horseman, in the whole wild world
Was never seen or observed by those assembled before,
Not one. Lightning-like he seemed
And swift to strike and stun.
His dreadful blows, men deemed,
Once dealt, meant death was done.”
The Arthurian legend of The Green Knight, written by an anonymous source, is an epic medieval fantasy from the late 14th century. The story begins when a mysterious knight, all clothed in green, approaches an aging King Arthur’s court one New Year’s Eve, uninvited. There, the Green Knight proposes to the assembled Knights of the Round Table a challenge : a joust of headlessness – a beheading game (here goes one obsession, thank you Antares), where he invites the bravest of the knights to strike him down with one blow from his own axe, if the knight in question will then meet him in his otherworldly abode of the Green Chapel, the following year, to take in return an equal blow. Already here we see that there is a sense of fateful justice and fairness to the challenge that is being laid out, which is reminiscent of Aldebaran’s themes. However, awestruck by this sublime being and by a sense of profound gravitas, none of the Round Table knights dare to take the Green Knight on his offer. As the Knight mocks the cowardice of knights otherwise known for their prowess, humble, young, unassuming Gawain, King Arthur’s own nephew, stands up to protect his lord and master, and accepts the Green Knight’s challenge :
“I am the weakest, the most wanting in wisdom, I know,
And my life, if lost, would be least missed, truly.
Only through your being my uncle, am I to be valued;
No bounty but your blood in my body do I know.
And since this affair is too foolish to fall to you,
And I first asked it of you, make it over to me;
And if I fail to speak fittingly, let this full court judge
Without blame. (…)”
Here in Gawain’s discourse we are led to understand that the word of a knight is all – that a knight is his word, known by his fruits, his gallant deeds and his powerful speech. Speaking true or “speaking fittingly” is a requirement not unlike that which is a fundamental aspect of fairy etiquette : do not lie, for the fae will compell you to speak true (any white lie turning true as a lesson, or any lie turning into a blemish compromising one’s physical integrity, for, and this bears explicit mentioning, there is no distinction between physical and moral integrity in Celtic lore, never). The notion of honour is profoundly central to Gawain’s tale – honour is what a knight is, what a knight does, what a knight speaks. In speaking these words, Gawain is recognizing the fate pattern as an opportunity to prove himself as a knight, and his speech takes on a performative nature : as he says, so must he acts. He creates the reality of his quest, and the reality / materiality of the tale, as he speaks. And so the story goes :
“Gawain gripped his axe and gathered it on high,
Advanced the left foot before him on the ground,
And slashed swiftly down on the exposed part [of the neck],
So that the sharp blade sheared through, shattering the bones,
Sank deep in the sleek flesh, split it in two,
And the scintillating steel struck the ground.”
In sealing his fate by accepting the Green Knight’s challenge without yet knowing the full extent of the consequences, Gawain magically ties in together his actions, his (s)word, and his soul – for Fate, as we remember, is where, or who, or what, your soul is sworn to. In doing so Gawain takes on a vow, he makes a solemn oath, and forms a promise : a geis has arguably been laid on his soul, but this much he does not know yet, as, as often with Faery, only one end of the bargain was stated explicitly – the members of the Othercrowd being true masters of semantics. The brutal irruption of the supernatural is reinforced after Gawain’s blow, and what he thought was the end of the pact turns out only to be the beginning. Beheaded, the Green Knight falls, only to stand up again : picking up his own severed head to the astonishment and horror of King Arthur’s court, he turns to the man who just slayed him, and reminds Gawain of his promise – to meet him in one yea and a day, at his abode of the Green Chapel.
Evidently the Round Table knights and the King realize upon the Green Knight’s leaving that they have been played by otherworldly powers, and that it is too late to undo what has been done. The Green Knight’s challenge was a death sentence. And while convinced taking the road will lead him to certain death, Gawain, after a year of anguish, still chooses to live up to his promise, knowing of no other choice, for it is the virtue of a knight, and he aspires to be a worthy knight.
The many challenges Gawain will encounter on the way to the Green Chapel, said to be somewhere in the land of Wales, serve only to prove his resolve to act justly, with integrity always; and in doing so without fleeing no matter how afraid he is, Gawain proves he is indeed the bravest of knights. I shan’t spoil the ending, but for a rapid word of caution, just in case, about the difference between ‘book Gawain’ and ‘movie Gawain’. While the 2021 David Lowery movie was nothing short of extraordinary, ‘movie Gawain’ is an entirely different character to his literary counterpart, by contrast forced by his own rashness to face the consequences of his reckless mouth, cursing the circumstances leading him to prove his worth as a knight (precipitated by his own mother), and constantly trying to flee his responsibilities, starting out overall as quite the fuckboy. This makes ‘book Gawain’ an example of what happens should one live up to Aldebaran’s challenge, and ‘movie Gawain’ an example of what happens if one fails.
There are a great many striking elements in the Green Knight’s tale, such as the many pagan aspects in what is otherwise a very Christian text :
The Green Knight as Wild Man, or the duel between Gawain and the Green Knight as being a possible reflection on the duel between the Oak King and the Holly King (the blood of the berries being the blood of the severance, and Gawain as Oak King symbolizing the triumph of spring over winter – Aldebaran marking the vernal equinox);
How ‘one year and a day’ is a deeply symbolic timing, meant to symbolize the period in which one was figuratively thought to go from being an apprentice to an accomplished craftsman (reprised in many occult traditions), but also one’s full life (Gawain meeting with his fate, with his death, as do we all, at the end of the cyclical time he was granted).
It is also worth mentioning that Gawain’s strength canonically waxes and wanes with the Sun, sunset marking its decrease and the metaphorical, figurative ‘loosing of the head’, just as the Green Knight is thought to come meet Gawain at the winter of his life, when the Sun is at its lowest, and another Knight, or Hunter, rises in the Sky (Orion).
Other Arthurianas also highlight the links between Gawain and the fae in additional legends : an earlier tale shows that he is beloved by the Otherworld, and that if the land prospers, it is because Arthur is himself unblemished, a just and fair leader, for when the king is right the land knows it. This powerful connection to the fairies is most prevalent in Gawain than in any other character. Arguably, Aldebaran in this tale could be both the Green Knight and Gawain, the latter himself a fairy knight of sorts, or rather, a knight beloved by the fairies. Gawain is, after all, the knight of the Goddess, husband to a fairy bride (see The wedding of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnelle, where Gawain learns about the virtue of Sovereignty as the best of gift from and to women, drinking deeply from this mead’s cup).
The threat of loosing face is amplified in the fear of loosing one’s own head in Gawain’s tale, but it is really just a fear of loosing one’s honour by refusing to fulfill one’s fate (which is, quite simply, to meet and submit to one’s own death). Heraldic themes of being untrue to one’s name and title, to one’s spoken word, and to one’s own nature, are deeply relevant to Aldebaran’s conundrums. In fairy doctoring, I was taught very early on that honour is a virtue to uphold, and to this day, it has stayed the most important one in my eyes, playing deeply into these matters of head and the integrity of one’s word. Enech or Eniequos, is thus a virtue which pertains to the nature of who someone is. I come from a tradition of folk magicians where the importance of such a concept was stringently pushed onto me precisely because of our dealings with these particular spirits known especially to despise and punish liars and oathbreakers – the fae. In this tradition, the power of voice and speech is performative, and, as I have come to find, it is closely intertwined with the concept of breath and soul. For this reason, I was shown the sacred links between the soul, the body, and the mind – that there is spirit in all things and all things in spirit – and how truth in one is truth in all. I was taught that your honour is your face, and your face your honour, and taught also that honour, like fate, has to do with where, or who, your soul is sworn to. So although Enech most literally translates as face, what it truly means, in my eyes, is soul. And thus I believe it is self-explanatory : what is proper and right, what is owed and good; allowed and fair, is to be true – to yourself, and true to the point of soul pacting your identity and conception of the self together – which is also why one’s own name, of all things, means so much, and why one is known by their fruit. It ties in heavily to notions of personal sovereignty and accountability, to uphold oneself to high standards of truth. To corrupt this, to damage or blemish it, is an offense to the gods and spirits, because it is an offense to one’s true nature, which is one and the same, as we are but one Tribe.
“Said Gawain, gay of cheer, ‘Whether fate be foul or fair,
Why falter I or fear? What should man do, but dare?’”
I have tried to explore in greater details how Aldebaran’s challenges on one’s honour and integrity might also be tied to notions of name, face, head, breath, and soul – at least in my cosmology. But other constellations are also calling, and the rolls / roles of heads accordingly. I shall hopefully expand further thoughts on the subject matter in an upcoming talk for the 2022 London Magickal Women Conference, ‘Illuminating the Dark’, as a Salon Speaker – please do stay tuned for a later announcement.
From the original manuscript of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.