The Tale of Olaus Regarding Werewolves
"In Prussia, Lithuania, and Livonia, there once occurred events of great terror: the people of these lands suffered year-round from wolf attacks. Frequently, they discovered their herds of cattle torn to shreds, reduced to feasts for ravenous wild wolves. Yet, despite this, a greater fear loomed over them—one far more dreadful than any wolf: the werewolf.
"Each year, on Christmas Eve, packs of werewolves would assemble. Organized in their own unique way, they launched coordinated attacks on nearby human settlements. Remarkably, werewolves were not inherently savage, and this restraint made them even more terrifying than real wolves to their victims. Their attacks were calculated, executed with strategy. They would first infiltrate the forests surrounding a village, silently closing in before launching a sudden and vicious assault. They burst into homes, seizing all they could devour—whether human or animal. With ferocious precision, they tore their victims to pieces, consuming them raw. Sometimes, they would raid wine cellars, draining them of every last drop. It was at such moments that the true difference between them and wild wolves became apparent."
In the borderlands of Prussia, Lithuania, and Livonia, there stood crumbling castles. On moonlit nights, these ruins became the gathering places of countless werewolves—sometimes numbering in the thousands. There, they danced wildly and howled into the night. Those too fat to leap over the castle walls became the subject of ridicule and, at times, even punishment by their peers, often receiving lashes as penance.
Olaus also recounted a nobleman’s perilous journey through the forest.
One evening, a nobleman traveling with his tenants found himself stranded in a vast forest as night fell. Unable to find shelter, they lit a fire and camped in the open. As hunger began to gnaw at them, one tenant offered to fetch a raw lamb leg for them to eat, provided they had no objections to its unconventional source. To the astonishment of the group, the tenant disappeared into the forest. Upon nearing a distant flock of sheep, he transformed into a werewolf, attacking the flock and tearing off a sheep's leg with his teeth. Returning to camp, he shifted back into human form, reappearing before his companions, blood dripping from his mouth and the severed leg clutched in his hand.
A tale from Latvia speaks of a noblewoman who dismissed the stories of werewolves as nonsense. "Could humans truly transform into wolves?" she asked one of her servants. Determined to prove his claim, the servant left the room. Moments later, a massive gray wolf appeared outside the castle, chasing a flock of sheep. The shepherd's dog gave chase, engaging the wolf in a fierce battle and biting out one of its eyes. Wounded, the wolf fled. The following day, the servant returned, missing one of his eyes.
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Another tale describes a peculiar Christmas ritual. A boy with a limp roamed the streets, commanding people to attend a prayer gathering. Anyone who refused or tried to hide was lashed with his iron whip until blood flowed. Reluctantly, the villagers followed. As they walked, they noticed the crowd around them had transformed into wolves—thousands of them. Leading the pack was the boy, wielding his whip. They believed they had all become wolves. Encountering a flock of sheep, they tore into it, feasting ravenously. Remarkably, they left humans unharmed. Later, at a river’s edge, the boy struck the water with his whip, causing it to part, allowing the pack to cross. This transformation persisted for 12 days, and on the 13th day, the wolves’ hides vanished, restoring them to human form.
Müller recorded a similar account from Russia involving a tyrant named Albertus, notorious for his cruelty. One night, while the tyrant was away, his stolen cattle mysteriously perished. Upon learning of this, he cursed his unseen adversary, crying, "If God permits, let this wretched thief devour me as well!" At his words, a rain of blood fell from the heavens, transforming him into a rabid dog. He savagely tore into the cattle’s carcasses, devouring them until his wife, horrified by the spectacle, collapsed and died.
A related story from Prague tells of a cruel nobleman who exploited his people with oppressive taxes. After seizing a widow's last milk cow, all his cattle perished mysteriously in a single night. In his fury, he cursed the heavens, and God turned him into a dog with a human head.
Legends speak of Saint Patrick transforming a Welsh king into a wolf and Saint Natalis cursing an Irish noble family, condemning them to live as werewolves for seven years. During this time, they roamed the forests, surviving on maggots and occasionally preying on sheep.
Further, Marlowe wrote of a Prussian duke who accused a farmer of stealing his cattle. The farmer, bearing scars from his struggles with the duke’s dogs, was rumored to transform into a wolf during Christmas and midsummer. During his transformations, he reportedly felt immense comfort as his body took on lupine traits. The duke, impatient for proof of his guilt, eventually ordered the farmer buried alive to prevent his escape.
Nuremberg’s John tells of a priest who, lost in a strange land, encountered a wolf sitting by a fire. To his astonishment, the wolf spoke, inviting him to sit and recounting its plight. According to the wolf, members of its tribe were cursed to live as wolves for seven years before regaining their human form.
Randles, in his writings on the Courland werewolves, claimed to have collected substantial evidence supporting their existence. He suggested that Satan controlled shapeshifters in three ways: by influencing their actions to mimic wolves, by inducing vivid dreams of wolf-like violence, or by using actual wolves to commit atrocities, later convincing the afflicted that they were responsible.
Ultimately, the myth of the werewolf stems from a central truth: under the torment of madness, individuals believed themselves transformed into beasts, acting out the part with ferocious conviction. This deeply rooted belief, spanning continents and centuries, finds its foundation in the existence of such disturbed minds and the terror they inspired.