Fake news in the Middle Ages: 10 legends that stand the test of time

Before dark web conspiracy theories, people had the tavern. Information in the Middle Ages traveled slowly, mutating with every retelling. What we now call urban legends back then were terrifying theological myths that thousands accepted as facts. Discover ten of the most famous medieval legends that shaped the worldview of Europe for centuries.

In the mid-13th century, there was a rumor that a woman had successfully disguised herself as a man, climbed the ranks of the Catholic Church, and reigned as Pope for several years in the 9th century.

According to the legend, John Anglicus was in fact an exceptionally brilliant English woman who mastered theology. Her secret was supposedly uncovered during a papal procession through Rome, when she went into sudden labor and gave birth right in the middle of the street. While modern historians believe the story is just satire or folklore, it was widely accepted as historical truth during the late Middle Ages.

The urban legend of a noble outlaw who outsmarted the corrupt sheriff of Nottingham and stole from the rich to give to the poor began circulating in oral ballads around the 14th century.

Modern audiences know him as a cheerful hero in green tights, but early medieval versions of Robin were much grittier, violent, and anti-clerical. Historians have spent centuries looking through court records trying to find a definitive Robin Hood. Most conclude he was a complex figure, the medieval manifestation of rebellion against an unfair system.

Originating in the late 12th century through the French romances of Chrétien de Troyes, the Grail was described as the sacred chalice used by Jesus Christ at the Last Supper, and later used to collect his blood during the Crucifixion.

The legend claimed that this vessel possessed miraculous healing powers, granted eternal youth, and provided infinite food. It became an obsession across Western Europe. Knights and nobles genuinely believed the Grail was hidden somewhere in a secluded castle, waiting for a perfectly pure warrior to find it.

Did a heroic king once rule Britain from a golden castle called Camelot, surrounded by a Round Table of knights? The legend of Arthur was popularized in the 1130s by Geoffrey of Monmouth’s History of the Kings of Britain, a mixture of vague fragments of real 5th-century Celtic warlords and doses of pure fiction.

Arthur became the gold standard for medieval chivalry. The urban legend expanded to include his magical sword Excalibur, the wizard Merlin, and the tragic betrayal by his queen, Guinevere. The myth was so powerful that English monarchs, including Edward I, used Arthurian imagery to legitimize their rule, even claiming to have discovered Arthur’s tomb at Glastonbury Abbey in 1191.

The idea of a magical spring capable of reversing aging and curing all sickness is an ancient one, but it became a dominant urban legend during the Middle Ages. The myth was blown up by the Alexander Romance, a fictionalized collection of stories about Alexander the Great that circulated in Europe at the time.

According to these tales, Alexander and his armies searched for the "Water of Life" on the outer edges of the known world. Medieval travelers and mapmakers speculated that this fountain existed somewhere in India or the mythical lands of the East. This legend laid the groundwork that, centuries later, would drive Spanish explorers like Juan Ponce de León to hunt for it in the Americas.

Medieval life was deeply preoccupied with sin, demonic temptation, and the supernatural. When people experienced terrifying nightmares or sleep paralysis, they didn’t have modern psychology to explain it. Instead, they blamed the incubus and succubus.

An incubus was a male demon believed to prey upon sleeping women, while a succubus was a female demon that seduced men. These entities weren’t just folklore, they appeared in serious medieval theological texts. Church scholars even argued about how these demons operated, warning that they could steal human material to create monstrous offspring.

Following the Assyrian conquest of the Kingdom of Israel in the 8th century BCE, ten of the twelve Jewish tribes vanished from the biblical narrative. In the Middle Ages, this historical mystery became a geopolitical urban legend.

European Christians and Jews alike shared the thought that the Ten Lost Tribes were living out past the edges of the mapped world. They were said to be trapped behind the mythical Sambation River, a river made of stones and sand that only stopped flowing on the Sabbath. A major component of this legend was the fear or hope that these millions of hidden warriors would one day cross the river.

The Wandering Jew is one of the most tragic urban legends of the time, first appearing in written European chronicles around the 13th century. The story goes that a Jewish shoemaker or guardsman named Cartaphilus (or Ahasuerus in later versions) taunted Jesus as he carried his cross to Calvary, telling him to hurry up. Jesus supposedly replied: "I am going, but you will wait until I return."

As a result, the man was cursed with immortality and doomed to walk the earth without rest until the Second Coming of Christ. Throughout the Middle Ages, people across Europe claimed to have met this sorrowful traveler, describing him as a knowledgeable man who spoke every language.

In the year 1212, a wave of religious hysteria swept through France and Germany. The resulting story became one of the most heartbreaking urban legends of the era: the Children’s Crusade. The popular tale stated that thousands of unarmed children, inspired by visions, marched toward the Mediterranean Sea, believing the waters would part for them so they could peacefully reclaim Jerusalem. When the sea failed to part, corrupt merchants supposedly loaded them onto ships and sold them into slavery in North Africa.

Beginning in the mid-12th century, rumors spread of Prester John, a wealthy Christian king who ruled a utopian empire somewhere in the heart of Asia or Africa.

The legend reached a peak when a forged letter, supposedly written by Prester John himself, circulated among European monarchs. The letter described a kingdom with rivers filled with gold, the Fountain of Youth, and a mirror through which the king could see his entire empire. During the Crusades, European armies hoped that Prester John’s legions would march from the East to save them.

Beloved lyrics

"For what is a man?": Some of the wisest lyric lines ever written

Paul Anka was terrified when he sat down to write the lyrics for a song that Frank Sinatra would be singing. Jokingly, he started with a dramatic, "And now, the end is near…" The rest is history. Who are the people who pen the words that others will spend decades repeating? How did they come up with words so precise and true that listeners would compare them with those of great philosophers? Here are 10 of people’s favorite lyrics of all time, decoded.

"For what is a man? What has he got? If not himself, then he has naught." The melody of "My Way" wasn't originally American. It began as a French song called Comme d'habitude, a number about a couple stuck in a stale marriage. Paul Anka heard it on the radio while in France and bought the rights on the spot, before he had any use for it.

That use arrived at a dinner in Miami, when Sinatra told him, almost in passing, that he was quitting the business. Anka flew home, sat down at a typewriter, and spent one night writing lyrics as if Sinatra himself were speaking them. Sinatra recorded it in two takes and later called it his "national anthem," and many agreed; Anka had written the exact words one wants to belt while closing an episode of their life.

In "Beautiful Boy (Darling Boy)," John Lennon wrote: "Life is what happens to you while you are busy making other plans." But the phrase originated with American writer and cartoonist Allen Saunders, who published it in a 1957 issue of Reader's Digest ("Life is what happens to us while we are making other plans").

The line outlived everything else about the song, repeated at graduations and eulogies for decades since. Lennon was murdered shortly after the album's release, which means the song now carries a weight of hindsight neither he nor his listeners could have intended at the time.

"How many roads must a man walk down before you call him a man?" A young Bob Dylan wrote "Blowin' in the Wind" in 1962. He later claimed he wrote the entire song in about ten minutes at the Gaslight Cafe in Greenwich Village, borrowing its melody from the old spiritual "No More Auction Block." He was twenty-one, barely a year into his New York career, and insisted at the time it wasn't a protest song at all.

The song never answers its questions, but keeps asking them. First published in the folk magazine Broadside in May 1962, it became the unofficial anthem of the civil rights and antiwar movements once Peter, Paul and Mary's cover shot to number two on the charts in 1963.

"... is equal to the love you make." This is the last song the four Beatles ever recorded together, and Paul McCartney built it deliberately as a farewell. He gave Ringo Starr his only drum solo in the band's history, a fight McCartney had to win through what he called "gentle persuasion," since Starr detested solos on principle.

For the closing line, McCartney said he'd been thinking about Shakespeare, who often ended a scene with a rhyming couplet so the audience would know it was truly over. Even John Lennon, who generally disliked the Abbey Road medley and rarely praised his old partner's work by 1980, admitted the closing thought was "a very cosmic, philosophical line."

"... but it’s better than drinking alone." "Piano Man", by Billy Joel, narrates a song in which the character is real. Joel wrote it about the six months he spent playing piano under the fake name "Bill Martin" at a Los Angeles lounge called The Executive Room. Even the waitress "practicing politics" was Elizabeth Weber, the woman who'd soon become his wife.

Joel wrote it while hiding out from a record label he was desperate to escape after his debut album flopped. It became a bittersweet anthem that many people love singing with others; it seems like, as the song suggests, singing sorrows together at the bar is better than feeling them at home.

The whole song "Both Sides Now," by Joni Mitchell, is often quoted as a deeply philosophical observation of life. It concludes that some mysteries of life are as unknowable as the clouds, or love, despite accumulating experience.

When she wrote it, Mitchell had recently given up a daughter for adoption after being left by the child's father. She was twenty-three, mid-flight, after a passage in Saul Bellow's novel Henderson the Rain King described its narrator looking down at clouds from an airplane, something human eyes had only been able to do for a few decades. Judy Collins released it first in 1967 and won a Grammy for it; Mitchell's own version didn't appear until her 1969 album Clouds.

Kris Kristofferson’s song, "Me and Bobby McGee", contains one of people’s favorite quotes from song lyrics. Its title came from producer Fred Foster, who suggested Kristofferson write a song about his colleague's secretary, Barbara "Bobbie" McKee.

Its most quoted idea about freedom and loss was inspired, Kristofferson later said, by the final scene of Fellini's La Strada, in which a man realizes too late what he threw away. Roger Miller released it first, but it was Janis Joplin's posthumous 1971 recording, finished mere days before her death, that turned it into a number one hit and an accidental epitaph.

"... and I'm getting older too." Nicks says she wrote "Landslide" in about five minutes, sitting in a rented house in Aspen while her partner and musical collaborator, Lindsey Buckingham, was on tour rehearsing with the Everly Brothers. The song's real subject isn't romance, but the vertigo of watching time pass. She was twenty-seven, broke, working as a waitress and a cleaner, and their duo album had just been dropped by its label.

Looking at the snow on the Rockies, she found herself deciding whether to keep chasing music at all. Three months later, Mick Fleetwood heard Buckingham's guitar work on a demo and invited the pair into Fleetwood Mac, which changed their lives. The song has now aged into an anthem for anyone facing a hinge point in their own life.

"You can't always get what you want, but if you try sometime you'll find you get what you need." Mick Jagger sketched this one alone on an acoustic guitar, calling it "one of those bedroom songs." It closed 1969's Let It Bleed just as the decade's peace-and-love optimism was cracking.

The song is upbeat and simple, and unexpectedly insists on an idea of acceptance or surrender that has more to do with Stoic philosophy than with pop rock optimism. But the listeners liked it, and many quote it often.

"...that's how the light gets in." Leonard Cohen worked on "Anthem" for roughly a decade, discarding draft after draft, before it finally appeared on his 1992 album The Future. He wasn't a man given to explaining his own lyrics, having spent years training as an ordained Zen Buddhist monk and generally preferring silence to self-analysis.

But "Anthem" has the clearest statement of a philosophy he'd circled his entire career: that brokenness can give way to grace. It has since been invoked by human rights activists, quoted at protests, and performed at civic ceremonies.