Latest Folklore

St Lythans is also known as Gwal y Filiast – the greyhound bitch’s kennel. Maybe the greyhound comes from stories about Ceridwen: themodernantiquarian.com/browse.php?site_id=2234
The cromlech stands in cursed field, where nothing is supposed to be able to grow.

It’s also known as ‘Maes y felin’ – the mill in the meadows. Perhaps this is because the capstone spins round three times on Midsummer’s Eve, like a millstone? “Old people in the beginning of the 19th century said that once a year, on Midsummer Eve, the stones in Maes Y Felin field whirled round three times and made curtsies; and if anybody went to them on Hallowe’en, and whispered in good faith, it would be obtained. The field in which these stones stand was unprofitable, and people said the land was under a curse.” (Marie Trevelyan, Folk lore and folk stories of Wales, 1909 ).

This cromlech lies by a brook in a steep sided valley. Twlc y Filiast means ‘Lair of the Greyhound Bitch’.

I couldn’t find anything to connect it directly with this site, but Ceridwen (moon goddess) had the greyhound bitch as one of her symbols – in fact she could turn herself into one:

“The dog was an animal of importance in the mythology and folk-lore of Wales. Ceridwen, the moon goddess, had for one of her symbols a “miliast,” or greyhound bitch. When initiating Gwion the Little into her mysteries, Ceridwen transformed herself into a “milast.”
The canine symbol of Ceridwen was well known in Wales, and is perpetuated in many places to this day. Gwal y Filiast, “the lair of the greyhound bitch,” in the parish of Llanbendy, Carmarthenshire, consists of a large stone supported by four pillars. There is another Gwal y Filiast in Glamorgan, and in Cardiganshire a similar stone is called Llech yr Ast, “the flat stone of the bitch.” In the parish of Llanhamlwch, Breconshire, there is a place called Maen yr Ast, “the bitch stone,” abbreviated into Mannest.”
(chapter 6 of Marie Trevelyan’s ‘Folklore and Folkstories of Wales’ 1909).

You may be familiar with an example of it which is part of the story of Taliesin. As a boy he was being employed to keep an eye on a cauldron she was brewing up, full of a spell that would make the drinker the wisest person in the world. A bit of the mixture spat out and burned his thumb, so he instinctively put it in his mouth to soothe it. But of course he’d swallowed some of the mixture! So realising that Ceridwen would be very angry (she is portrayed as a miserable old witch in the story) he legged it.

When she found out what had happened and started running after him, he found he could become a hare to run faster. She then turned herself into a greyhound and began to gain on him. As they passed a river he quickly turned himself into a fish and dived in – but he wasn’t safe because she followed him as an otter. Jumping out of the water he transformed himself into a songbird and flew higher and higher – but was once more pursued as she sprouted wings and became a hawk. Quick thinking, he changed himself into a tiny grain of wheat, and plummeted to the ground, but she landed next to him, became a hen, and gobbled him up. Later on, when she’d turned back into a woman, she found she was pregnant (but that’s a different story...)
sacred-texts.com/neu/celt/mab/mab32.htm

Local legend says that the Notgrove long barrow contained a golden coffin.

Aubrey noted that “No history gives any account of this hill; the tradition only is, that King Sil or Zel, as the countrey folke pronounce, was buried here on horseback, and that the hill was raysed while a posset of milke was seething..”

Or you could believe the story that it was dumped there by the devil – it’s a story found all over Britain about various mysterious mounds and hills. The people of Marlborough hated the people of Devizes, and somehow they’d got the devil to agree to smother them with a big spadeful of earth, to get them out of their hair for good. A cobbler (or St John?) was walking towards Marlborough with a cartload of worn out shoes, which he was going to mend. He asked the devil what he was doing. On hearing the reply he explained that he’d set out from Devizes a very long time ago, and pointed to all the shoes in his cart – explaining that he’d worn them out along the way. The devil’s very lazy, so he decided he couldn’t be bothered to walk such a distance. He dropped the spadeful of earth by the side of the road in disgust, and it became Silbury Hill.

On a moonlit night you might see King Sil in golden armour ride by the hill. Perhaps that’s because he’s buried on horseback – or maybe in a golden coffin. A headless man is also sometimes seen. Kathleen Wiltshire (in her ‘Ghosts and Legends of the Wiltshire Countryside’) recounted how she’d been told these legends when she was a small girl, by an old stone-breaker, Worthy Gaisford.

Geoffrey of Monmouth put down his version of events in 1136AD:

King Aurelius Ambrosius (aka King Arthur’s uncle – Uther Pendragon’s brother) had been in a terrible battle, and wanted a fitting monument for the 300 of his men that had died. He asked Merlin’s advice, who suggested that if he wanted a ‘work that shall endure forever’ he should ‘send for the dance of the Giants’ from Killare in Ireland. Apparently the Dance of the Giants was a stone circle in Ireland, and Merlin just wanted to transfer them as they were to the new plot on Salisbury Plain. Whether the stones were giants turned to stone, or just metaphorical giants I don’t think is mentioned.

The king sent his men over to Killare, where they proceeded to beat up the Irish – but when it came to actually removing the stones noone could shift them. Merlin ‘put together his own engines’ (engines?) and ‘laid the stones down so lightly as none would believe.‘
They were then carried by ship to England and reconstructed on the Plain.

Another explanation was that the devil had been enlisted, by Merlin, to bring the stones over. They belonged to an old Irish woman. The devil said that if she let him have them, she could have as much money as she could count out of his purse while he was removing them. She agreed, but of course the devil had no intention of paying out. He made the stones disappear instantly, so she had only counted out one coin.

The devil was boasting that no-one knew how he had acquired the stones, but a friar was listening who had secretly watched the whole scene. When the friar spoke up, the devil threw one of the stones at him. You can now see the mark where it hit him – on the heel – on the heel stone.

Or maybe not. Maybe it’s just the heel stone because it’s out at the back. Or just that it heels (leans) over. Is the Heel Stone even an ancient name for the stone?

There doesn’t seem to be a legend to explain how the stones got here – Jordan in her ‘Folklore of Ancient Wiltshire’ suggests that perhaps that’s because of the village: familiarity breeds contempt?

Various stones have special names; there’s the Swindon stone mentioned below, the Devil’s Chair at the southern entrance (young women reputedly sat in it to make a wish on May Day Eve), and the cove of the N inner circle were called the ‘Devil’s Brand Irons’.

There is a rumour (mentioned by Stukeley?) that snakes cannot live within the circle. But in christian mythology the snake often represents the devil. So really you’d expect the circle to be knee-deep in snakes! However, on the church font at Avebury there is a carving of a bishop crushing a dragon/serpent with his crozier (nasty man) – so perhaps the ‘no snakes’ thing is actually a memory of the christian church insisting that Paganism Is Over Around Here. On the other hand, you will notice that the church isn’t actually within the stone circle: perhaps they didn’t dare put it in there??

The Coldrum Ley is said to run from nearby Trottiscliffe village church, through the barrow and on, via several other significant sites to the top of Bluebell Hill.
There is a legend of atunnel connecting Coldrum to the church said to contain treasure. I believe this to be a folk memory of the connecting Ley.

A dog from the fairy otherworld inhabits the barrow. He is white with red ears – as you’d expect from his heritage.
On Midsummer’s morning you can see him entering the barrow at sunrise (perhaps as some kind of metaphor of the barrow’s alignment and the sun?)

[edit – I’ve found a kind of source for this – Janet and Colin Bord’s ‘Atlas of Magical Britain’. They say “the ghost of a priest enters the barrow at sunrise on Midsummer Day, followed by a ghostly white dog.”
But where did they hear that? Who knows. I fear it is from the modern celtic revival (ie randomly made up for reasons of romance). But maybe that’s no worse than being made up at some point in the past. A place so impressive rather needs some impressive story, don’t you think. White fairy dogs with red ears are in genuinely old stories. And some burial chambers in Wales are kennels for greyhounds. So it’s not ridiculous to transport the story here. Just not very “authentic” perhaps. Anyway. Maybe who cares.

But if you know different... please leave a post.)

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During excavation, holed limpet and periwinkle shells were found – perhaps they were strung as parts of necklaces or amulets? or had some symbolism connected with their far off origins? I always pick up shells at the beach...

(shell info from Burl’s ‘Prehistoric Avebury’)

Another fierce contender for the ‘second biggest manmade hill after Silbury’ this 18m high mound sits overgrown in the grounds of a school. It’s not a quarter of the volume of Silbury though. It was long said to be Norman, but when the Hartford family reshaped it John Aubrey reported that Roman coins had been found in the side – so surely it must be at least Roman in age (unless some joker put the coins in later – unlikely I feel). They also found red deer antler picks – which also backs up the theory the hill was built in the Neolithic.

Like Silbury Hill and the lost barrow at Marden it lies partly surrounded in a bend of a river. Stukeley believed that a spring rose under it – or at least from inside the ditch.

The name ‘marlborough’ comes from the site perhaps, from the anglo-saxon ‘Maerle beorg’ – Maerla’s barrow. It is also said to be the burial place of Merlin – the town’s motto is ‘Ubi nunc sapientis ossa Merlini’ ie Where now are the bones of wise Merlin. I don’t know if this is a statement or a question..

According to messages on the TMA forum, it is fairly easy to obtain permission to visit if you say you are a student of archaeology – but maybe given the news above, visitors will be encouraged in the school holidays in future anyway?

The mound apparently sported a spiral path in the past, a charming gazebo on the top – but now a rather ugly water tank.

(partly from Burl’s ‘Prehistoric Avebury’)

‘Big Cley Hill do wear a hat. Little Cley Hill do laugh at that.‘
Little Cley sits at the foot of Cley Hill. Maybe the hat refers to the impression the earthworks give. Or maybe (as Ella Noyes says in her 1913 book ‘Salisbury Plain’) it’s to do with cloud resting on the big hill when it’s going to rain.

There are several customs associated with Palm Sunday here. The grass was burnt ‘to burn the devil out’ (the last time this was done was apparently 1924). People also used to play ‘Bandy’ – a kind of hillside hockey, where a line of people with curved sticks tried to hit a ball from the bottom to the top of the hill.

From what my boyfriend’s grandfather has said, I think it was a popular place for a knees-up in his youth, and he even said something about driving a  truck up there (which would seem a bit difficult, but maybe if you followed the earthworks round it would no doubt have been possible?).

Bratton Castle is the name of the hill fort perched up here above the white horse between Bratton and Westbury. Right in the middle is a longbarrow, so I suppose people have been using the site for a lot longer than the Iron Age. The view up here is pretty fantastic. You sometimes get mad people up here hanging off their parachute/kite contraptions which is quite entertaining to watch.

Bratton Castle is reputedly the battlefield for King Alfred’s victory over the Danes, with the white horse being built as a memorial. There’s some debate about how long a white horse has been here at all. Some say the present (now concreted) one was made in the 18th century, but drawings exist of a horse facing in the opposite direction – perhaps that was there previously, or is it a printer’s mistake? The drawing shows a stretched out animal, apparently half daschund, looking a bit bonkers. The present figure frequently undergoes controversial little alterations – it has been turned into a zebra, and has also sported a hat.

It’s a fantastic spot (particularly when sunny) – especially if you ignore the cement works below. My boyfriend’s grandma had her ashes scattered here (unfortunately it always seems rather windy up here and he got a faceful).

‘There is a famous cave at the foot of Schiehallion where, tradition has it, fairies loved to dwell. There, it is said mortals from time to time dwelt among them, and interesting stories are told of the strange ways in which they were rescued from their power. Behind Schiehallion, again, on Creag Chionneachan, is one of the spots where the old Fingalian warriors were supposed to lie on their elbows awaiting the third blast of the horn that is to raise them to life again.
From ’ A Higland Parish or the History of Fortingall’ by Alexander Stewart 1928.

‘…Schiehallion (3,547 feet)- i.e. the hill of the Daoine Shi or the Fairies’ Hill. If all the tales one hears related by old natives of Rannoch could be fully relied on, Schiehallion in days of yore used to be a favourite resort of the fairy folks, and more especially once a year, when all the various tribes throughout Glenlyon, Rannoch, Strathtummel, etc. congregated. Here they used to assemble in large numbers and hold their annual convocation, presided over by the beautiful and accomplished Queen Mab, gorgeously arrayed in her favourite green silk robes, with her abundant crop of beautiful golden-yellow hair waving in long ringlets over her shoulder down to her waist. It is said that there are a long series of mysterious caves, extending from one side of the mountain to the other.‘
From ‘Rambles in Breadalbane’ by Malcolm Ferguson 1891.

This site, as so many of the entries above have said, is so clearly chosen for the fantastic way the mountains encircle this plateau. You can walk round and round and everywhere you see alignments of the stones with the mountains, echoes of the shapes in the skyline. This is the place to convince you that the landscape is sacred, that the space outside the circle is as important as whatever went on inside it. There have been many studies of the possible astronomical alignments here too – though personally the alignments with the landscape seem enough for me.

The circle is known as the Druid’s Circle, but I haven’t found any traditional stories which relate to the site. A relatively recent story concerns the experience of a Mr Singleton and his companion, who in 1919 saw some strange balls of white light moving among the stones.

From The English Mechanic, October 17th, 1919:

“Some years ago, during Easter, returning to Keswick from an ascent of Helvelly with a hotel acqauintance, we saw lights, no doubt will o’ the wisps. It was so dark that we had to probe for the road walls with our sticks, when we were at a point near which the track branches off to the Druidical Circle (the stone circle of Castlerigg).

Then, all at once we saw a rapidly moving light, as bright as the acetylene bicycle lamp, and we instinctively stepped to the road boundary wal to make way for it, but nothing came.

As a matter of fact, the light travelled at right angles to the road, say 20 feet above our level, possibly 200 yards or so away.

It was a white light, and having crossed the road it suddenly went out... when we saw a number of lights, possibly a third of a mile or so away, directly in the direction of the Castlerigg stone circle, but of course much fainter, due to the distance. The lights were moving backwards and forwards horizontally; we stood observing them for a long time. Whilst we were watching... a remarkable incident happened, one of the lights, and only one, came straight to the spot where we were standing, at first very faint.

As it approached the light increased in intensity. When it came quite near I was in no doubt whether I should stop below the boundary wall, as the light would pass directly over us, but when it came close to the wall it slowed down, stopped, quivered and disappeared. The light was globular, white with a nucleus, possibly six feet or so in diameter, and just high enough above the ground to pass over our heads.”

Bright oval lights were also seen more recently at the circle, in 1997 (admittedly by some people who were having ‘a laugh and a drink’)

Men An Tol means ‘stone of the hole’ in Cornish – the stone’s also been known as ‘The Devil’s Eye’. Holed stones are often thought to have special powers, especially for healing.

If scrofulous children are passed naked through the Men-an-tol three times, and then drawn on the grass three times against the sun, it is felt by the faithful that much has been done towards insuring a speedy cure. Even men and women who have been afflicted with spinal diseases, or who have suffered from scrofulous taint, have been drawn through this magic stone, which all declare still retains its ancient virtues.

– from Hunt’s ‘Popular Romances of the West of England’ (online at the sacred texts archive
sacred-texts.com/neu/eng/prwe/prwe069.htm)

Hunt also described how the holed stone could answer your questions:

“If 2 brass pins are carefully laid across each other on the top edge of the stone, any question put to the rock will be answered by the pins acquiring, through some unknown agency, a peculiar motion.”

Unfortunately he didn’t mention how to interpret the peculiar motion. You’ll just have to give it a go.

The site as it is has obvious sexual / fertility symbolism – but maybe it wasn’t always as we see it now: there is a lot of debate over whether the stones have been rearranged, were part of a circle, tomb or cairn. The Avening Burial Chamber had a porthole style entrance – maybe this was the same.

Apparently -

Mottistone means ‘speaker’s stone’ in Old English. The Druids are supposed to have sacrificed white bulls beside the longstone (white cattle with red ears belonged to the fairies or came from the Celtic underworld, so perhaps that is relevant). The two stones here have been interpreted as male and female. Perhaps it’s more likely they are the remains of a destroyed burial chamber with more stones.
(folklore found in the Reader’s Digest ‘Folklore Myths and Legends of Britain’)

King Arthur and his men ride round the hill on silver-shod horses when there’s a full moon at midsummer. They ride over the hill to the spring next to Sutton Montis church. You can also hear their horses in Arthur’s Lane (is this ‘Folly Lane’?). It is also called ‘King Arthur’s Hunting Causeway’. Normally Arthur and his knights live inside the hill: it’s hollow, and they lie sleeping waiting for when the country needs their help.

Sounds from King Arthur’s Well can be heard at Queen Anne’s Wishing Well, which is a good 200 metres away, but still within the ramparts.

(partly from J+C Bord’s ‘Atlas of Magical Britain’, also ‘Somerset Folklore’ by Ruth Tongue, 1965, collected 1906)

[King Arthur and his knights] come riding down from Camelot to drink of the waters of a spring by Sutton Monks [sic] Church on the eve of every Christmas Day (J A Bennet, Cadbury, p4). According to another account, related to me by Mrs Church, King Arthur goes down to drink on St. John’s Eve, and anyone he meets, if not of perfectly pure life, he strikes dead.

From The Rollright Stones and Their Folk-Lore
Arthur J. Evans
Folklore, Vol. 6, No. 1. (Mar., 1895), p25 in pp. 6-53.

In 1872 the Bath Nat. Hist and Antiq. Field Club took an excursion here – they recorded the story about King Arthur riding around the hill with his men on silver-shod horses – and to prove it, they were told that one of the shoes had been found embedded in the track! King Arthur’s Lane is also mentioned as ‘a nearly lost bridle path leaving Cadbury by its West gate’ and heading straight for Glastonbury.

S Toulson (in ‘Moors of the Southwest, v1’ 1983) says that the fairies who lived in the surrounding fields used to bring corn up to the fort to give to Arthur. This was until the installation of bells in the nearby church – at which time they left.

Delightfully located just outside Hinkley Point nuclear power station, Wick Barrow is also known as ‘Pixies’ Mound’. I noticed on the HP website that they intend to Enhance the Appearance of Pixies Mound. Goodness knows what this means, hopefully they will just mow it now and again.

In this mound the pixies were said to live, and an old barn close at hand is the last place where they were seen by “Mr. Rawlin’s uncle.” He heard the sound of threshing, and crept up to the barn to see who was making free with his corn. As he came near he heard voice.
“How i do tweat,” said one.
“So thee do tweat, do ‘ee?” answered another, “well then, I do tweat and double tweat, looky zee!”
Mr. Rawlins’s uncle looked over the half-door, and there were the pixies with their red caps.
“Well done, my little vellows!” he cried, and at that they fled, and have been seen no more.
The story is not unusual, of course, and occurs in connection with other old barns and relatives of other living men elsewhere in the district.

Another less common legend, but one which is found elsewhere in England and Scandinavia alike, is that of a ploughman who was at work in one of the Sidwell fields. As he worked he heard what he took to be a child crying, and lamenting that it had “broken its peel,” round the barrow. The “peel” is the long wooden shovel with which the bread is put into the old brick-ovens, but the man went to see if he could find the child, whom he supposed must have wandered from home. He could see no one, but on the side of the mound was the broken peel, which he mended with string, being good natured, and supposing that the child could not be far away. When he left work in the evening he went to see if the peel had been recovered. It was gone, but in its place was a cake hot from the oven of the grateful pixy.

There is no treasure-legend attached to the mound [..] It was said that “beautiful music comes from it of a night,” and [..] “that a Dane was buried there.” But the most persistent statement concerning the mound was that “if it were digged down by day, it would be put back that night.”

Local Traditions of the Quantocks
C. W. Whistler
Folklore, Vol. 19, No. 1. (Mar. 30, 1908), pp. 31-51.

Presumably he ate the cake thinking it was a present for him- but what if it was just out cooling?! And note that usually you should refuse fairy food – but generally it’s ok if it’s a gift for you (under which circumstances it could be dangerously rude to refuse).

(edited to provide earlier versions of the stories).

You know us country types, anything to play up to the townies’ idea of us as stupid, so we can laugh at their gullibility when they go home.
But apparently, it was a common belief in East Anglia (and probably elsewhere – the Growing Stone in South Wales) that pebbles grow in the soil into large stones.
The Blaxhall stone is on the land of Stone Farm, Blaxhall. Apparently it was only the size of a small loaf a century or two ago. But now it’s about 5 tons. It’s good soil round here.

Alternative versions have the devil adding an extra loaf when the baker wasn’t looking, or appearing disguised as another loaf. Another has the baker finally totting up the stones but dropping dead just as he’s about to utter the result. You have been warned. They are called the countless stones, for goodness’ sake.

As mentioned above, this is reputedly the site of combat between a British chieftan and the Jutish Horsa c455AD. It is said that sometimes you can see the combatants still fighting ‘in uncanny silence’. Castleden notes in his ‘Neolithic Britain’ that it is supposed to be Horsa who is buried here.

It is also supposed to be known as the hut of St Christopher – well, according to Castleden who suggests some bizarre explanation referring to fords: but this is on top of the hill and surely well away from any fords?? Feel free to prove me wrong.

It’s also said that if you place an object on the capstone at full moon it will disappear when you walk round the stones three times. Makes you wonder what you might try getting rid of.

St Paulinus was a missionary in the 7th century. One day he was riding his ass along the ancient trackway above Caistor. The ass was more obstinate than usual because it hadn’t had any breakfast. St Paulinus saw a man up ahead who was sowing corn. Perhaps he would share some of the grain? He asked the man for some corn from the sack in the field. ‘Oh that’s not a sack,’ replied the farmer. ‘That’s – a stone.‘
A stone, eh. ‘Then stone it shall be’ retorted St Paulinus. And so it was. Apparently it stayed in place in the field for many generations, and then a farmer decided to move it off his land. It was practically immoveable and took a whole team of horses to shift. After that every misfortune imaginable fell on the farm. The farmer thought he’d better replace the stone. This time an old horse managed to drag it up the slope easily by itself.
It’s also said that various other people who’ve damaged it have come to a sticky end, like one of the builders of the nearby Pelham’s Pillar in the 1840s, who chipped a bit off and then mysteriously fell from the pillar and was killed.

The stone is supposed to have a ‘gathered’ effect like the mouth of a sack. Can anyone track it down??

Hen Pit Hole lies between Langtoft and Kilham. In Langtoft you can see a stone slab embedded in a house wall, which tells of the huge flood in 1892 when the waters rose to 7 1/2 ft above street level. The local well, ‘Toon Well’ filled with debris – quite impressive since it was 126ft deep (it’s now covered over). When there’s been very wet weather and the well rises like this, water starts gushing out of Hen Pit Hole with enormous force.
It was said that a man could ride a horse under the spectacular arch of water without getting wet. John Nicholson reported on his website (https://www.helperthorpe.freeserve.co.uk)
that his own father had been able to pass under the water ‘in a crouching attitude’.

The traditional explanation for the name ‘Hen Pit Hole’ is that a gypsey* put a hen into the well at Langtoft, and it reappeared at the site. The dell is supposed to be haunted by a ghostly hen and her 9 chicks!!

However, it’s been suggested that because the intermittent phenomenon at the site is/ would have been so impressive, it would have been a natural focus for ‘nature worship’ – or what you will. Perhaps the name Hen comes from Hen Wen, reputedly a “Celtic” goddess connected with water. Or perhaps the Norse water goddess Ran, who had 9 daughers.

*Is this just confusion with the gypsey of the ‘Gypsey Race’ – the intermittent springs of the Wolds?
(I’m not sure if this is the same gypsey as the one going past Wold Newton)

The Gypsey Race is the only surface stream on the ‘High Wolds’ of Yorkshire. There are a number of ‘Gypsies’ in the region – they are streams that only flow with water intermittently and irregularly. They are associated with divination and are supposed to flow particularly vigorously before major events. These are often unhappy ones, and the streams are also known as ‘Woe Waters’.

The fish stone is 5.5m high, and is probably the tallest standing stone in Wales (certainly Powys).

It must get fed up stuck on the bank – so every Midsummer’s Eve it leaps into the river for a swim. There must be some splash.

In ‘The Secret Country’ Janet and Colin Bord describe John Williams’ experience at the stone. The “experienced dowser from Abergavenny” felt a spiralling force building up in his body as he touched the stone, whereupon he was thrown backwards off it (and no doubt landed unceremoniously on his bottom).