Jure Grando, the štrigon of Kringa

Kringa is a village in Istria, in today's Croatia, about 12 km south-west of Pazin. In 1672 it was a market town called Krinck, in the County of Mitterburg, under Habsburg rule. Its people feared the strigon, a sorcerer believed to suck children's blood.

The whole story survives in one book. Johann Weichard Valvasor, a Carniolan polymath and member of the Royal Society, told it in Die Ehre deß Hertzogthums Crain in 1689. He was firm about his sources. "I have myself spoken with persons who were present."

Georg Grando, called Giure, had died sixteen years before. Pater Georgio, a Pauline monk, buried him and said the funeral Mass. Then he saw him. The deceased was sitting behind the door. The priest went away, quite terrified.

It did not end there. Grando was said to walk the streets at night and knock on doors. Before whichever house he knocked, someone soon died. He also came to his widow, and actually lay with her. She took her complaint to the Suppan, the market headman, Miho Radetich.

Radetich gathered men, gave them drink and urged them on. Nine of them set out with two lanterns and a crucifix. They opened the grave and found the face beautifully red. He laughed at them and opened his mouth. The men all ran off together.

Radetich was galled that nine living men could not deal with one dead one, and he brought them back. They strove to drive a sharpened stake of hawthorn through the belly, but each time it bounced back. Radetich raised the crucifix. "Look, you strigon! Here is Jesus Christ, who redeemed us from Hell and died for us!" Tears welled out of the ghost's eyes.

Micolo Nyena tried first to take the head, but went about it too fearfully. Stipan Milasich struck it off. The dead man let out a cry and writhed, as if he were alive. Blood filled the grave. From that time on, the woman and other people had peace from him.

Erasmus Francisci, who edited Valvasor's book, carried the tale into European vampire literature. In 1855 J. J. von Görres retold it with more flourish. The widow became Ivana, and the priest, not the headman, held the crucifix. Modern retellings added life dates, a stonemason's trade, children and a stake aimed at the heart. None of that is in Valvasor.

Valvasor called it the devil's work. Such exhumations were quite common in Istria, he wrote, and the authorities harshly punished those involved. Görres proposed a "vegetative life" circulating in the corpse's blood. Some villagers say Grando was a thief who faked his death, or that the widow invented the demon to cover an affair. Decomposition is the usual explanation for vampire exhumations, though no source applies it to Grando, and preservation after sixteen years would be unusual.

In 2006 Tinjan promoted the legend to tourists, in a project led by mayor Mladen Rajko. "No one is claiming that vampires or evil forces exist, all we want is to promote a documented legend." A plaque now honours the nine villagers. Writer Boris Perić put it simply. "Grando already has all the characteristics of future literary vampires."