[This is from a story that I read once. I have seen it in print several times, from several different sources. Because I was just quoting from Saxo Merkado, I will use his version]:

“I once heard of two brothers who came to the Wild in search of something. I don’t remember what. The elder brother was jealous of the younger, who was accompanied by his beautiful, loyal wife. She would not leave his side, even in the Wild. Though he pretended brotherly kindness, the elder hated his brother and could think of nothing but the body of his brother’s wife. Her breasts were so round, her skin so pure. Whenever she moved or breathed, his hatred burned more brightly and presently he knew she must be his. But he would not take her. Her passion must be as willing as his to satisfy his lust, so he devised a plan. He drew his brother away and murdered him, thinking to blame it on the denizens of the wood. The wife would turn to him for comfort and the silk of her skin would his. But the Netherwild was more devious than the man, and when the noble wife came to the brother’s cries, she saw her husband standing over the broken body of his brother. She could not know that what she saw was but a shroud, a cloak that had been cast over the elder brother’s skin. He himself did not know at first, but he was cunning and quickly realized the enchantment. He did not understand, but he wasted no time on it. The woman fell to the trick and the killer knew the warmth of her passion. He led his prize from the Wild and they lived together for many years, though the woman often spoke to her priest, concerned how wild and violent her husband had become. I heard the man finally succumbed to the guilt of what he had done. He confessed himself to his brother’s wife, then left and sought his fate and death with his brother in the Wild. The poor woman killed herself.”