The two cairns each conceal a golden coffin, containing the body of a king. A flock of birds protects them and chases away intruders – perhaps you’ll see them wheeling round if you visit? It is said that attempts to dig a Home Guard lookout at the site were interrupted by a flock of birds..
(mentioned in Grinsell’s ‘Folklore of Prehistoric Sites in Britain’)
From Westcot’s History of Devon.
Harl. MSS. No. 2307. (1630?)
If Cadburye-castle and Dolbury-hill dolven were,
All England might ploughe with a golden sheere.
Cadbury-castle, (alias Caderbyr) the land of William de Campo Arnulphi, and after of Willowby, Fursden, and now Carew. This castle may be seene farr offe (so they terame of highe upright, topped hill) by nature and slyght art anciently fortified, which, in those Roman or Saxon warrs, might be of goode strength, conteyninge within the compass thereof, near... acres. Here you may see some fyve mile distant, to the south-east, in the parish of Broad Clyet, another down, called Dolbury-hill:- between these two hills (you may be pleased to hear a pretty tale) that is said (I sett not downe those wordes to lessen your belief of the truthe of the matter) but to lett you know that, nil praeter auditum habeo:
Take yt on this condition
Yt holds credyt by tradition;That a fiery dragon, or some ignis fatuus in such lykeness, hath bynne often seene to flye between these hills, komming from the one to the other in the night season; whereby it is supposed ther is a great treasure hydd in each of them, and that the dragon is the trusty treasurer and sure keeper thereof, as he was of the golden fleece in Cholcos, which Jason, by the help of Medea, brought thence; for, as Ovid sayth, he was very vigilant.
A watchfull dragon sett,
This golden fleece to keep,
Within whose careful eyes
Come never wink of sleep.And, as the two relations may be as true one as the other, for any thinge I knowe, for it is constantly believed of the credulous heer, and some do averr to have seene yt lately. And of this hydden treasure the ryming proverbe here quoted goes commonly and anciently.
Quoted on p168 of A provincial glossary by Francis Grose, new edition 1811.
Be suitably warned that the parson of Widcombe opened this burial chamber – and the very next night his house was destroyed in an explosion.
(from a 1911 source, noted in Grinsell’s ‘Folklore of Prehistoric Sites in Britain’)
Ringmoor Down is stuffed with prehistoric remains – the stone row, stone circles, hut circles, round cairns... but do resist the urge to dig them up even though “Whoever shall find the treasure hidden on Ringmoor Down may plough with a golden ploughshare and yoke his oxen with golden cross-sticks.” – this is a saying recorded in 1850 (and put by Grinsell in his ‘Folklore of Prehistoric Sites in Britain’). If I found the treasure I reckon I’d give up farming and pay someone to plough for me with the usual wood and iron kit.
Grinsell records that during the annual beating of the bounds of Gidleigh common, the first man to reach the long stone was given money as a prize.
(’folklore of prehistoric sites in Britain’)
“The person who pulled down this cromlech is said to have brought a number of misfortunes about him in consequence; thus his cattle died and crops failed, which left a warning impression on the minds of his neighbours.”
From an 1861 source quoted in Grinsell’s ‘Folklore of Prehistoric Sites in Britain’.
There is much history and folklore attached to this hill.
Queen Cartimandua of the Briganitines is said to have used the hill as her stronghold during the Brigantine Civil War against her ex-husband Venutius.
Cartimandua was a client ruler of the Romans. When she handed the fugitive Caratacus over to Rome, Venutius divorced her. She took his brothers and kinfolk captive, which led to civil war between 55 – 71 AD.
However, no archaeological evidence has been found of this and as the fort was abandoned around 400 BC, it seems unlikely.
The Norman castle built on the hill during the 12th century probably wiped away any archaeological traces, if Cartimandua’s camp had been there.
The Roman name for the hill was Camulodunum (not to be confused with Colchester), which has lead to suspicions that Castle Hill was Arthur’s Camelot. There certainly was a 5th century King of the Pennines called Arthius, but no proof that he inhabited Castle Hill has been found.
Other folklore is that tunnels lead from the hill, one to the Deadmanstone at Berry Brow, and another to Almondbury.
The Devil is said to have leaped to Castle Hill from Netherton Scar (where he left his footprint), some eight miles away. This may be a memory of the fire at the hillfort which lead to it’s abandonment.
The hill is also said to be the lair of a dragon which guards a golden cradle.
Well, coming from Borve along the road and having consulted a few of my fellow locals, it is doubtfull that the battle marker scenario carries weight. Not saying some folks don’t hold to it, but as far as I was always told it was a burial marker for a Norwegian princess who was on her way to Ireland to get married. She died on the journey and this is where they buried her at first land sight. Personally, I think that’s nonsense as has recently been proven by Joolio Geordio, Curtis etc that it is part of a larger setup. You only have to look at the other large prone stones right beside it to see that. No way was it a menhir. Check out Joolios postings on it anyway. Still an amazing place.
At the turn of the last century the oldest local people said that this was the last remaining stone of a circle. It was removed (“about 70 years ago” – maybe the 1830s) but all the cattle in the vicinity suddenly died, prompting its hasty return.
(Grinsell – Folklore of Prehistoric Sites in Britain)
At Killishmont, near Keith, Banffshire, was a piece of ground called “the Helliman Rig.” It lay on the top of a rising ground, and commanded a very wide view of the country, stretching for many miles over the hills of Banff and Moray. In a part of it the rock--a kind of slate--came to the surface. In the rock were cut out nine cups in three rows. Tradition has it that a tenant long ago began to cultivate it. No sooner had the plough touched it than one of the oxen fell down dead. It is not very many years since it was brought under cultivation.
From Notes onThe Folk-Lore of the North-East of Scotland By Walter Gregor [1881]. Let’s hope the rock is still there.
This roughly triangular stone is five and a half feet tall and stands on a steep slope above the road. It is mentioned in Notes on The Folk-Lore
of the North-East of Scotland, by Walter Gregor
[1881], now online at the sacred texts archive.
Here is a tradition of a monolith on the farm of Achorrachin in Glenlivet. The farmer was building a steading, and took the stone as a lintel to a byre-door. Disease fell upon the cattle, and most unearthly noises were heard during night all round the steading. There was no peace for man or beast. By the advice of a friend the stone was taken from the wall, and thrown into the river that ran past the farm. Still there was no peace. The stone was at last put into its old place in the middle of a field. Things then returned to their usual course. The stone stands to the present day in the middle of the field, and in some of its crevices were seen, not many years ago, small pieces of mortar.
Visitors may care to note that it is very near to the Glenlivet distillery.
The mighty Graeme C told me that a local farmer told him that the devil threw this stone to its current location. Apparently you can still see his finger marks on the side of the stone.
Grinsell notes that just west of the stone circles used to be the Moor of Ardoch Sithean. A sithean is a fairy knowe, or cairn. Clearly the fairies didn’t hold much fear for the people who destroyed it.
(mentioned in Grinsell’s ‘Folklore of Prehistoric Sites in Britain’)
This 5’5” tall slab stands just outside the cemetery on Kirk Hill (is this an old or a new name I wonder?). It is named after a saint who is said to have converted many local people to Christianity (see cushnieent.force9.co.uk/walloch.html – Firth’s Celtic Scotland) and Grinsell (in ‘Folklore of Prehistoric Sites in Britain’) says it is incised with a Celtic cross.
Lulach was (the real) Macbeth’s stepson. He was killed in battle in 1058 – so presumably the story goes that this stone commemorates him.
The information on canmore makes it sound quite a strange shape, as it bulges out towards the top. It is 2.5 metres high and stands in the middle of a circular banked enclosure. A boulder inside the circle ‘has been carved at a relatively recent date probably with a cold chisel’ to make a stone ball.
Grinsell (in ‘Folklore of Prehistoric Sites..’) mentions a rumour that the stone (deliberately?) crushed a treasure seeker to death, so be warned.
CuChullin’s dog was called Luath – it means ‘swift’ in Gaelic. Sometimes you want to know where your dog is – it’s hard to keep an eye on it when it’s dashing about everywhere. So CuChullin would occasionally tie Luath with a bit of string to this stone, when he needed to get on with things undistracted.
The stone is 10ft tall, and stands on a saddle between two hills. It is mentioned in James MacPherson’s ‘The Poems of Ossian’ which he compiled in 1761. (solomonspalding.com/SRP/Ossian/MacPhr03.htm)
F R Coles (1903*) was told locally that the stone was sometimes called Macbeth’s Stone.
*I don’t know what this article is though – but it’s mentioned on the RCAHMS record for the site.
It is said that witches used to convene their covens around this huge 3.5m stone.
(Grinsell – Folklore of Prehistoric Sites of Britain)
A source from the turn of last century said it is supposed to be the last remaining stone of a stone circle (noted on the Canmore database). But especially considering its enormous height, this seems particularly unlikely? and I doubt it is still an entertained theory. Was it the wishful thinking of an antiquarian? Or was it a genuine folk story about the stone? Either way it seems to point to somebody’s feeling about the site’s importance in the past?
Extracted from the Spring 2004 edition of ‘The Dunningite‘, newsletter published by the Dunning Parish Historical Society.
Dragon... or Draegen?
An unforgettable memory of Millenium eve is of a river of fire, the flames of a thousand torches, flowing down ‘the Dragon’ in the company of a green effigy of the mythical beast attacked by St Serf. It’s a shame we can’t exhibit the actual dragon’s skin, as they do in Valencia; but even those who have a twinge of doubt about the literal truth of the story feel that it lends Dunning a certain distinction.
The purpose of this article is to put forward a plausible explanation for the dragon story, and suggest that, surprisingly, it may be linked with that other famous event in our history, the 1716 burning.
The story is certainly very ancient. It occurs in the earliest ‘Life’, that of Jocelyn of Furness, which was written about 1180, as well as in the latest, Andrew de Wyntoun’s ‘Oryginalle Cronykil’ of the early 1400s. Both writers were apparently quoting from an earlier account composed not long after he was active here, somewhere between 550 and 750 AD. And rather oddly, virtually the only bit of corroborating evidence they offer is that it happened in a place called ‘the dragons den’ or ‘the dragons lair’. Take Andrew de Wyntoun’s version:
“In Donnyng, of his devotion
And prayer, he slew a fell dragowne;
Where he was slain, the place was ay
The Dragownes Den called to this day.”
Scholars of this period believe that the various monsters and devils confronted by the early missionary saints were symbols representing the pagan religious beliefs, rites and customs they wanted to stamp out. Now by far the most distinctive feature of the old Celtic religion was the importance it attached to trees – whether singly, as the home of protective spirits, or as the sacred groves which served as open-air temples or ceremonial sites. It was for that reason that famous missionary saints of the period, St Patrick and St Martin of Tours among them, are said to have been enthusiastic tree-fellers. Which species of tree were regarded as particularly sacred seems to have varied from one country to another. In Roman times, in Gaul and also in Southern Britain, sacred groves were usually of oak, or to a lesser extent of ash. But in what is now Scotland and Ireland, the species most frequently used for sacred purposes were thorn trees, both hawthorn and blackthorn.
Certainly, right from the outset of his mission to Pictland, St Serf is shown to be an enemy of the thorn tree. For, if we can believe his biographer Jocelyn, his very first act after crossing the Forth to settle in Culross was to tell his followers to cut down a grove of thorn trees and erect a makeshift chapel in its place. It’s an odd detail to have been passed down; why, in a short life story, give prominence to a simple bit of ground clearance? The obvious explanation is that, to the original writers, it had a significance which had been lost by the time Jocelyn and Andrew wrote their histories. It seems likely, therefore, that the focus of St Serf’s anger on arriving in Dunning was not a mythical dragon, but the local sacred grove and the rites and beliefs associated with it.
Even after the nominal conversion of the country, pagan beliefs would have been very much alive. It is a reasonable surmise that the Pictish king of Fortrie had given him Dunning to keep him close to the royal palace at Forteviot. Clearing away the relics of pagan ritual by cutting down sacred groves would have been among his first priorities on settling in – as it had been at Culross. But why use a dragon as a symbol for a sacred grove of thorn trees and its associated cult?
Look up the ancient Gaelic word for thorn tree, and the answer jumps from the page. It was draegen, pronounced ‘draygun’ – exactly as we pronounce the common name for the street today! This seems a remarkable coincidence. And interestingly, the old Gaelic word for the mythical animal was pronounced the same way as in today’s Scots, with a short ‘a’. Is it possible that this distinction between ‘draegen’ and ‘dragon’ has been preserved for over a thousand years?
But of course, Dunning has another well-known association with thorn trees, which may well represent the long-term survival of the same ancient religious beliefs, in the watered-down form of superstition or magic. The coming of Christianity didn’t kill off the old religion completely. Instead, it drove it underground, to survive for many centuries as a belief in the magical potency of certain trees, and to give rise to a host of strange tree-related customs and superstitious rituals. For instance, in the past, thorn trees standing on their own in fields were held to be home to benign spirits, and could not be cut down, however much they inconvenienced the ploughman. Again, springs (often called wells) would often have a protecting thorn tree, or grove of trees, which were similarly untouchable.
Invariably, the underlying belief was in the thorn tree’s protective power. It could protect individual families or whole communities – but if the tree were harmed, it could take its revenge. The Statistical Account for Scotland of 1792 tells of a Perthshire parish not far from Dunning in which: ”There is a quickthorn of a very antique appearance for which the people have a superstitious veneration. They have a mortal dread to lop off any part of it, and affirm with a religious horror that persons who had the temerity to hurt it were afterwards severely punished for their sacrilege.”
Does all this help us to understand the very odd behaviour of the survivors of the burning of the village in January 1716? A very old tradition insists that the original, so-called ‘commemorative’ tree in Thorn Tree Square was planted in the early spring of the same year, that is within a mere two or three months of the disaster. It is not difficult to imagine the state of mind of the remaining villagers after the burning as they looked at the desolation around them. It was an exceptionally bitter winter, at the height of the ‘little ice age’ of the early 1700s. They were shelterless, and their food and valuables had been stolen by the retreating highlanders. They were facing the threat of death from exposure, starvation or disease. Their revered minister had died (of despair, they believed) just before the burning, leaving them without spiritual consolation or even proper burial rites. Even their landlord, to whom they might have normally turned for some assistance, was a fugitive from the victorious Hanoverians.
In such desperate straits, with no authority to turn to, where could they look for help? Where else but to the only trustworthy power left to them – the ancient protective magic of the thorn tree? So, in the early spring of 1716, as soon as the ground was soft enough to work, tradition says that those still able-bodied went up into the ‘Dragonden’ to dig up a young thorn, carry it back and plant it with some precision in the centre of the village. To people living in that still profoundly superstitious age, it would have seemed simple common sense to look for protection from powers possibly more reliable than the ones that had just let them down so badly.
And is the traditional explanation – that, at a time of such distress, they would have taken the trouble to plant a tree to commemorate the terrible event that caused it – even remotely credible?
D.R.Wilson
William Weaver Tomlinson, the first edition of whose Guide to Northumberland was published in 1888, says that the name Hurl Stone is probably a corruption of ‘Earl’s Stone’. He goes on to say...
“According to a local tradition, some persons once exploring the subterranean passage which is said to extend from the Caterane’s Cave on Bewick Moor to the Henhole on Cheviot, had got as far as the Hurle Stone when their lights went out, and they heard above them strange voices repeating, amid the trampling of horses’ feet, the elfin rhyme –
‘Hup, hup, and gee again!
Round and round the Hurle Stone.‘
Terror-stricken, they retraced their footsteps through the darkness to the mouth of the cave as fast as possible.”
The story of Egbert’s Stone is an early English rather than a megalithic one, of course: in 878ce, King Alfred rallied armies from three counties (Somerset, Wiltshire and Hampshire – apparently the Dorset men were occupied at the coast) to fight the Danes.
Tradition has it that they met at Egbert’s Stone – and there are at least three different sites claiming to be that of the stone (others being a three-counties boundary post at Bourton, and the site of the 18th century folly King Alfred’s Tower – both are a few miles from Kingston), although it seems that the Kingston Deverill site (or, rather, Court Hill, where the stones are assumed to have come from) is regarded as the strongest claimant.
After the armies met, they marched to Ethandun (Edington) and defeated the Danes – somewhere near the White Horse of Westbury/Bratton.
This five and a half foot high granite megalith leans over. It used to be upright but tipped over (willfully?) to crush a man to death who was looking for a pot of gold said to be buried beside it.
Interestingly, another account says that it was a farmer who was crushed, who was looking for ‘a bull’s hide full of gold’.
Grinsell also offers this verse:
The man who never has been born
But frae his mither’s side been shorn
Sall fynd the plate and gowden horn
Anaith the Stane O’ Corticram.
(all from Grinsell’s collectings in ‘Folklore of Prehistoric Sites in Britain’. I neglected to note his sources, but the verse at least may be from Scottish Notes and Queries: second series Vol 3, July 1901 to June 1902, p29)
It seems to be an interesting area, Skelmuir Hill. There are a number of other stones in the vicinity, and it is in the region that is the major flint source in Scotland.
“In the large and almost complete circle at Cothiemuir, in the parish of Keig, the recumbent stone is of peculiar rounded shape, and has numerous hollows upon its surface, caused by weathering. Two of these on the outside, rather larger than their fellows, are known as the ” Devil’s Hoofmarks,” their shape resembling the mark of a cloven hoof.”
From: Ritchie, J., Folklore of Aberdeenshire Stone Circles, in Proc. Soc. Ant. of Scotland, LX, 1926, pp304-313.
Burl has suggested this is the remains of a recumbent stone circle, but more recent thought (see CANMORE) suggests it was a cairn which has been progressively robbed out, leaving some of the large kerbstones left at the edge.
According to Grinsell, (quoting from a 1901 source in his ‘Folklore of Prehistoric Sites..’) “in early days an attempt was made to build a chapel within the stone circle, but.. each night the walls sank out of sight and the building began anew every morning, until eventually the unlucky work was abandoned in despair.”
It’s no good trying to Christianise these places you know.
Not far away at NJ705190 is the ‘Ark Stone’, suggested by the antiquarian source above to be the lost recumbent stone of the circle, but boringly stated by modern archaeology to be a perfectly natural (though ark-shaped) granite boulder.
Only one stone is left of this circle, perhaps a flanker of the recumbent stone. It seems the others had been carted away by the turn of last century – actions which sit uncomfortably by its apparently respectful name of ‘the Old Church’? CANMORE suggests the site is still known by this name locally.
A number of streams course down the hill at this point, and a waterfall is marked on the map very nearby. The site nestles between Red Hill, Green Hill and Black Hill.
Legend states that the clansmen sharpened their swords on the Gathering Stone immediately prior to the battle.