The Folklore of Discworld

usually an hourglass hidden in the folds of his robe; this is a lifetimer, which measures the life-span of the person he is about to visit.
    On Earth there are some countries in whose languages ‘death’ is a feminine word ( la mort , morte , muerta ). This has no effect at all on the manifested appearance of Death in those lands. In any case, it takes a calm, well-trained eye to tell a male from a female skeleton, and black hooded robes are unisex attire.
    There was a time when Death thought it polite to appear in whatever form the client expected – at least, for human clients; what shape he assumes when manifesting himself to, say, a sea anemone, a mayfly, or a nettle is beyond conjecture. However, he discovered that most people have no clear expectations at all, probably because in their hearts they never really believe they will die. And those who do think they know what they will see have some prettystrange ideas. For example, King Teppicymon XXVII, Pharaoh of Djelibeybi, found that the hooded robe lacked a certain something:
    ‘I understood that Death came as a three-headed giant scarab beetle,’ said the king.
    Death shrugged. W ELL, NOW YOU KNOW .
    ‘What’s that thing in your hand?’
    T HIS? I T’S A SCYTHE .
    ‘Strange-looking object, isn’t it?’ said the pharaoh. ‘I thought Death carried the Flail of Mercy and the Reaping Hook of Justice.’
    Death appeared to think about this. W HAT IN? he said.
    ‘Pardon?’
    A RE WE STILL TALKING ABOUT A GIANT BEETLE?
    ‘Ah. In his mandibles, I suppose. But I think he’s got arms in one of the frescoes in the palace. Seems a bit silly, really, now I come to tell someone. I mean, a giant beetle with arms. And the head of an ibis, I seem to recall.’ [ Pyramids ]
    There have been times and places on Earth where Death would have found it just as tricky to fit in with his local image. For the Ancient Egyptians, he would have had to appear as Anubis, a man with the head of a jackal or wild dog; for certain South American peoples, as a cross between a jaguar and an eagle; for some Hindus, as the ferocious many-armed goddess Kali, adorned with garlands of skulls. So he decided to stick to what he liked best, using the costume and attributes he had been gradually collecting over the past 2,000 years or so.
    His starting-point was the Bible, specifically the sixth chapter of the Apocalypse (or Book of Revelation), which speaks of a ‘rider on a pale horse’ whose name was Death, wearing a crown, and flourishing a sword. The same passage mentions three other riders as his companions, War, Famine, and Pestilence. On the Discworld too, in suitable circumstances, he teams up with them and they appear together as the Four Horsemen of the Apocralypse, as a sure sign thatthe world is just about to end – probably. Some of their doings on the Disc are recorded in The Light Fantastic , Sourcery , Interesting Times , and Thief of Time ; and on Earth in Good Omens .
    Death liked the idea of a horse, and got himself a handsome white steed named Binky, who is real flesh-and-blood, though capable of galloping in the air and across the dimensions as well as on land. He did briefly experiment with skeletal horses, but found bits kept dropping off; and fiery horses, which tended to burn down the stable. Binky is far more practical, and more reliable. He is well fed and well groomed (Death strongly disapproves of artists who represent the Pale Horse as a mangy, starving creature). From time to time he requires new horseshoes, and on these occasions Death takes him to the best farrier on the Disc, Jason Ogg of Lancre. Jason’s gift as a craftsman is that he can shoe anything, anything , that anyone brings him – a horse, a goose, a unicorn, an ant. But the price to be paid for the gift is that he must shoe anything anyone brings. So on certain nights, when he hears a certain knock and a certain voice, he does as his father and grandfather did before him: he puts on a blindfold, and shoes what must from the feel of it be the finest horse in the world – and certainly the most docile.
    As far as is known, Death has not made similar arrangements on Earth. But apparently the Devil did, once. It’s said that there was once a blacksmith at Keenthorne in Shropshire who was so proud of his skill that he boasted that ‘if the Devil himself came to his forge he would shoe his horse for him, aye, and shoe him to rights too!’ And then, one dark midnight, a traveller on a great