Latest Folklore

Westwood and Simpson, in their ‘Lore of the Land’ (2005), mention that a golden calf is supposed to be buried here. I wonder if it’s got anything to do with the nearby Cow Down. They prefer biblical explanations. But I like mine.

There is a large tumulus in Stanmore field.. called Burrow Hill by the common people; who have a tradition that a man of that name was interred there in a gold or silver coffin. This barrow.. was opened during the month of April, 1815..

The common people state that an attempt to open this barrow was made about fifty years ago, but the design was frustrated by a dreadful hailstorm, with lightning, which compelled the labourers to desist. Thunder being also heard during the second attempt in question, the excavators were universally considered as the disturbers of the atmosphere; those that remembered the previous event, remarking, that “the undertaking seemed not altogether pleasing to the Lord!”

A terrific thunder-storm happening on the following day, the labourers were obliged to desist and take refuge in a neighbouring cottage; which had such an effect on the mind of one of the workmen employed, that he actually refused to come again. The recurrence of a thunder storm during this, the second attempt, was generally considered as remarkable; but such was its melancholy influence on this poor fellow that he became completely deranged, and never did a day’s work afterwards; being confined in St. Luke’s and other lunatic asylums for the remainder of his life. It is but justice to state, that Mr Long [the director of the excavation] had never heard of this melancholy result of his labours until the present year.

Among other ridiculous stories and puerile superstitions respecting this tumulus, the peasantry relate that it is inhabited by fairies; and that a certain ploughman having broken his share, and gone home to procure some tools, found on his return that the plough had already been mended.

From ‘The history and antiquities of the hundred of Compton, Berks’ by John Snare, 1844.

There is a remarkable tradition amongst the peasantry, who state that this fosse*, from one end to the other, was dug by the Devil in a single night, and that retiring to the summit of the downs he there scraped his spade, the mould from which formed the well-known barrow, Cuckhamsley Hill! Others narrate that it is a furrow made by the Devil, who traversed these downs with his plough!

*ie the Devil’s Dyke or Grim’s Ditch.

From ‘The history and antiquities of the hundred of Compton, Berks’ by John Snare, 1844.

Henry Bett gives a different version of the legend in English Legends (1950). he says that the Jumps Inn, on the road to the church, was so-called because on the spot where it stands three youths were jumping on a Sunday when a mysterious stranger joined them and offered to teach them how to leap. He made three marvellous leaps, the extent of which, says Bett, was still shown (presumably he is referring to the standing stone or stones). The terrified youths tried to escape, but the Devil seized them and they all vanished in a blue flame.

Retold in Westwood and Simpson’s ‘Lore of the Land’ (2005).

It seems no difficult matter to point out the time of year when this great prince died, who is here [in Silbury] interr’d, viz. about the beginning of our present April. I gather it from this circumstance. The country people ahve an anniversary meeting on the top of Silbury-hill on every palm-Sunday, when they make merry with cakes, figs, sugar, and water fetch’d from the Swallow-head, or spring of the Kennet. This spring was much more remarkable than at present, gushing out of the earth, in a continued stream. They say it was spoil’d by digging for a fox who earth’d above, in some cranny thereabouts; this disturb’d the sacred nymphs, in a poetical way of speaking.

... I took notice that apium grows plentifully about the spring-head of the Kennet. Pliny writes defunctorum epulis dicatum apium. To this day the country people have a particular regard for the herbs growing there, and a high opinion of their virtue.

This is from Stukeley’s ‘Abury’, chapter 9 (courtesy of the excellent images at Avebury Now
avebury-web.co.uk/AburyWS/AburyWS.html ).

Hmm, Pliny could be talking about the plant being served at feasts for the dead. But my latin is non-existent, perhaps someone else can translate? I imagine Apium is a carrot-family water-celeryish sort of plant. Maybe fool’s watercress or something similar? Culpeper said that Apium “opens stoppings of the liver, and spleen, cleanses the blood, provokes the menses, helps a cold stomach to digest its meat, and is good against the yellow jaundice”. But that could have been a totally different plant too...

... an artificial peculiarity about [Mither Tap] makes it still more worthy of notice – the great mass of stones that encircles the summit like a fortification... Naturally the Picts – and probably deservedly – get the credit of the building... The fortification has also been attributed to Sir Andrew Leslie of Balquhain, the Earl of Mar’s “master of horse,” who fought and was killed at the Battle of Harlaw.

Tradition has it that at one time he lived on the top, and carried off young women to this rude fortress, as well as took shelter there himself when his lawlessness put him in disgrace with his superior. But there are several reasons why this tradition should not be credited, besides the absurd account which it gives as to the origin of the Maiden Causeway...

There is another, and much later, tradition that the fortress was used as a hiding place by Lord Pitsligo after he had been attainted for his share in the rebellion of ‘45. An active search was made for him after the Battle of Culloden, but he always contrived, though often very narrowly, to evade his pursuers...

When on Bennachie he occasionally visited his friend General Horn at Logie-Elphinstone, and had a night’s hard drinking with him. On the General’s wife remonstrating with him against this habit, Lord Pitsligo replied that, “if she was sittin’ upon a cauld, bare stane up on Bennachie wi’ naething but burn water, she micht ca’ that ‘hard drinkin’.’”

The well is now dry, the water having disappeared it is said, in a single night, though some years ago it gave a fair supply of excellent water. At one time it was filled up with stones, to the disgust of the natives, by a crofter-squatter, who was annoyed by his sheep wandering to the top of the Mither Tap, and occasionally falling into the well. The stones have since been partly removed, but water appears to have forsaken the place.

The last bit sounds suspiciously superstitious, that by insulting the well by filling it in, it decided it wouldn’t bother any more. Maybe.

This and masses more in Alex. Inkson McConnochie’s ‘Bennachie’ (1890) which is on the Archive.orgwebsite.

Wayland or Volund is the divine smith in Norse, Anglo-Saxon and Germanic. It is said that is you leave your horse tethered there overnight with a silver coin as payment, the horse will have been re-shoed in the morning!

In folklore, Volund and his two brothers steal the “swan-shifts” of three swan maidens then go on to convince the swan maidens to stay in their human forms and become their wives. After a period of 9 years the Swan-Maidens manage to find their swan-shifts and turn back into swans! Interesting as it has been observed that Waylands Smithy aligns to Deneb in the consellation Cygnus (The Swan)

Reference “The Cygnus Mystery” by Andrew Collins

Swallowhead Springs has been proposed as a site for worship of the Celtic Goddess Brid or Bridget (Bride in Scotland and Breeshey on the Isle of Man). She presided over fire, art, beauty and is said to be the mother of the Gods. She is often associated with the return of the flow of water in the month of march and therefore the return of life in spring.

(Reference “The Avebury Cycle” by Dames)

Known anciently as Brugh na Boinne “Place of the Boyne” Newgrange is said to be the tomb of ‘three times fifty sons of kings’ belonging to the legendary kingdom of Tara (Illustrated guide to Newgrange by O’Kelly) It is also identified as the sidhe of Angus Mac Og, leader of the Tuatha da Danann- the children of the godess Danu/ Dana.
One legend “The Dream of Angus” relates how he fell in love with a swan-maiden after she visited him in a dream. After she agreed to marry him, they fly off to Newgrange in the form of swans, where they lived happily ever after. In Scottish folklore, Angus was married to the goddess Bride, who was herself a swan-maiden.

This is an interesting refernce as Newgrange itself may represent the layout of the constellation Cygnus- The Swan.

About three quarters of a mile south-west of Mugdrum cross, are the remains of another celebrated cross, Norman Macduff’s cross, on which so much has been written, both in prose and rhyme. It is situated upon the high ground, in an opening of the Ochils which forms a pass from the valley of Strathearn into the central portion of Fife. This cross is said to have been broken in pieces by the Reformers, on their way from Perth to Lindores; and nothing now remains but the large square block of freestone which formed the pedestal. [..] There are several holes or indentations on its different faces, which tradition says were nine in number, and in which nine rings were at one time fixed. [..] It formed a girth or sanctuary for any of the clan Macduff, or any related to the chief within the ninth degree, who had been guilty of “suddand chaudmelle,” or unpremeditated slaughter. In consequence of this privilege any person entitled to take advantage of it, and requiring its security, fled to the cross, and laying hold of one of the rings, punishment was remitted on his washing nine times at the stone, and paying nine cows and a colpendach or young cow; the nine cows being fastened to the rings. [...] a powerful spring called the Nine wells, where it is supposed that the ablutions took place, still takes its rise at no great distance from the cross.

[..] It was on all occasions necessary when the privilege of Cross-Macduff was claimed, that proof should be given of consanguinity within the limited degree; and where in any case the claimant failed in establishing his right, he was instantly put to death, and buried near the stone. There were formerly several artificial airns and tumuli around the cross, and one rather larger than the rest about fifty yards to the north, but the progress of agriculture which has brought the ploughshare over the fields around the cross, has now removed all traces of them. [..] “Superstition,” says Cant, “forbids the opening of any of them; no person in the neighbourhood will assist for any consideration, nor will any person in or about Newburgh travel that way when dark, for they affirm that spectres and bogies, as they call them, haunt that place.”

From ‘The topographical, statistical and historical gazetteer of Scotland’ v2, published by A Fullarton and Co, 1856.

More details. It’s not on Canmap but if it’s earthfast maybe it is still there?

At a place called Killiesmont, in this parish, there is one of those pieces of ground, sometimes found in Scotland, variously known by the name of the Guidman’s Craft, or the “Gi’en Rig,” that is, given or appropriated to the sole use of the devil, in order to propitiate the good services of that malign being. This piece of land is on the southern declivity of a lofty eminence. At the upper end of the ridge, there is a flat circular stone of about eight feet in diameter, in which there are a number of holes, but for what purpose tradition is silent.

Like other crofts of this description in Scotland, the present remained long uncultivated, in spite of the spread of intelligence. The first attempt to reclaim it was made not more than fifty years since, when a farmer endeavoured to improve it; but , by an accidental circumstance, it happened that no sooner had the plough entered the ground than one of the oxen dropped down dead. Taking this as an irrefragable proof of the indignation of its supernatural proprietor, the peasant desisted, and it remained untilled till it came into the possession of the present occupant, who has had the good taste to allow the large flat stone to remain, a memorial of the idle fancies of preceding generations.

The Gazetteer of Scotland, by Robert and William Chambers. V1, 1844.

In his book ‘Villages of the White Horse’ Alfred Williams writes about the legend of Wayland or Weland, the invisible smith who dwelt in the cave known as Wayland’s Smithy. His forge was hidden far under ground and legend has it if a traveller wanted his horse shod and left some money by the entrance when he returned later he would find the horse newly shod. A well known legend; Alfred Williams adds to it this passage:

“One day old Wayland lost his temper and gave a thrilling proof of his mighty strength, striking fear into the folks of the countryside round about. Running short of nails, he sent his favourite imp, Flibbertigibbert, down the valley to obtain some from the other blacksmiths, and bade him to make haste about it, as a horse was waiting outside to be shod. After waiting several hours he looked out from the cave and saw the imp had yielded to the temptations of a mortal and gone bird-nesting in the fields, forgetful of the nails. Thereupon Wayland, fell into a passion, snatched a big round stone, used as an anvil, and threw it at the loiterer, two miles off; the stone shot through the air with a loud whizzing noise and, falling short of the mark, nevertheless slid along the ground and struck the imp on the foot retaining the mark of his heel on one side. Thereupon the imp appeared to the astonished rustics, limping and snivelling and rubbing his eyes with his fist, so they called the spot Snivelling Corner, and the name remains to this day.”

Alfred Williams goes on to say “Others think the ‘heel’ on the stone at Snivelling Corner may be a clue to its true significance as a ‘heol stone’ or sun stone from ‘heelios’. Greek for sun.”

Source: “Villages of the White Horse” by Alfred Williams (first published 1913)

The Scouring of the White Horse

Historian, Brian Edwards’ paper *’The Scouring of the White Horse’ – published in the 2005 WANHS magazine, has a section on the scouring of Uffington White Horse which proved of great interest. The Revels, a two day festival of rustic games, backswording, wrestling, sack races and pole climbing, was held as a precursor to the scouring. However, the last scouring and games to took place in 1857.

*Thomas Hughes (author of Tom Brown’s Schooldays) wrote a novel in 1859 called The Scouring of the White Horse.

The last chapter of Alfred Williams book Villages of the White Horse (first published 1913) is also about the about Uffington, the White Horse and the last games that took place in 1857. He too drew on Thomas Hughes’ original work for his information but although he says that nearly all who took part are now dead he managed to find an eye witness account in the person of Old William Reeves of Shrivenham who was by then nearly 90.

“Old William with his picturesque red woollen waistcoat, red knitted cuffs and head slightly inclined, is delighted to talk about the Revels, though he admits there was a little “blaggardness” sometimes, and sundry small accidents; as when, in the cart-horse race, a big mare stumbled and fell on her rider, killing him on the spot; and again after the pig hunt, how five competitors claimed the prize, and killed the poor pig in contending as to which should have it; and how thieves broke into the booths and carried off all the taking, and other suchlike happenings.”

Very descriptive and possibly clues as to why it was abandoned.

‘Monk’s Cairn is so-called solely because it marked the boundary of the land owned by the Abbey of Kinloss. The legend of its marking the spot where the monk of Grange was killed in a duel, is unfounded.‘

W. Crammond, 1895.

This nice bit of rock has an interestingly pagan-sounding bit of folklore, summarised by Sir William Fraser (in ‘The chiefs of Colquhoun and their country’, 1869):

Under Benvoirlich there lies on the roadside near Lochlomond a stone of large dimensions, called Clachan Tarrow or the Bull Stone. The history of this stone as told by tradition is, that it was rolled down the mountain in a desperate struggle between two infuriated bulls. Forty years ago a pulpit was cut out on the side of the stone fronting the road, from which the minister of the parish might occasionally preach to those of his parishioners who lived in this remote district, which is ten miles distant from the parish church.

Hmm. You’d think it’d be quicker just to stand on a box. But JM Briscoe’s photo on geograph does show it to be an impressive backdrop for ecclesiastical ranting. More details here on the Arrochar Parish Church website (but for goodness sake turn off your speakers. You have been warned).

More about the bulls is found in AD Lacaille’s ‘Ardlui Megaliths and their Associations’ (PSAS 63, 1928/9):

The strong flavour of mythology in the Gaelic name, “Clach nan Tairbh,” for the Pulpit Rock, is accounted for in the tradition of the Red Bull of England and the Black Bull of Scotland meeting in mortal combat on Ben Vorlich. So terrific was the contest that the rock on which they fought became detached by reason of the shocks it was subjected to by the onslaughts of the infuriated animals, and finally it slipped down the slope of the mountain to rest permanently in its present situation. Victory, we learn, was with the northern bull which, with its crooked horn, dispatched its rival (Campbell, Popular Tales of the West Highlands). The story ends with the statement that Clach nan Tairbh “is the largest boulder in the three realms” – an indication that the legend associated with the place may go back tothe time when this country was still divided up into the three kingdoms of Strathclyde, Dalriada, and Pictland.

Like me, the author clings desperately to ideas of the rock’s ancient significance: “To reply to a speculative inquiry as to why a more convenient spot, such as a house, should not have been the place for meetings of a religious character after the fall of the ancient church, consideration must be given to some traditional significance borne by the huge boulder to the minds of the inhabitants of the locality – a significance, moreover, which had its origin in remote antiquity.” yeah yeah.

A tradition of Kincardineshire favours the theory that the plague is popularly believed to have had a bodily form. On the farm of Mondynes, in the parish of Fordoun, and at no great distance from the banks of the river Bervie, stands, in the middle of a ploughed field, a large stone, underneath which the plague is said to have been buried.

At the last occurence of the pest in Scotland, say the country people, there dwelt in this district a benevolent warlock, who determined to free his country for ever from the terrible destroyer. By dint of spells, he succeeded in drawing toards him the whole material of the plague, and winding it up round his fingers, as people wind thread. The clew reached the size of a man’s head before every particle was collected. When completed, he took it in his hands to the spot mentioned, put it into the earth, and covered it with this large stone. All of this was done by spells, the power of which ceased when the stone was laid down; so that, according to the popular belief, it that were to be removed, the ball would burst forth, explode, and the plague would again overspread the country.

Mentioned in the Edinburgh Literary Journal (Nov 1828-May 1829), p380.

From John Smith’s ‘Prehistoric Man in Ayrshire’ (1895):

There is a granite boulder on Blairstone on which is cut an incised figure, popularly believed to represent the sword of Wallace; but a glance at it shows that it has not been made to represent a sword, but a cross, which measures 3 feet 6 inches long, and 14 inches over the arms of the cross, which, as well as the top of it, widen out a bit at the ends. The tradition of the neighbourhood is to the effect that Wallace laid his sword on the granite boulder, and some kind artist chalked off the outline, and cut out its representation on the stone; but it is far too small for Wallace’s sword, even if it were the proper shape. For its better preservation, the stone has been surrounded by a stone-and-lime wall.

Or another theory:

Abercrummie says: “There is also upon the descent of Broun-Carrick-Hill, near to the mains of Blairstoune, a big whinstone, upon which there is the dull figure of a cross, which is alleged to have been done by some venerable churchman, who did mediat a peace twixt the King of the Picts and the Scots; and to give the more authority to his proposals, did in their sight, by laying a cross uon the stone, imprint that figure thereon.” Such was, apparently, the tradition when Abercrummie wrote. It has also been attributed to Wallace as well as Bruce. The stone, which may at one time have been standing, lies apparently in the same position as it did in Abercrummie’s time.

Abercrummie was the Rev. Abercrummie of Maybole. He wrote ‘A description of Carrick’ in the 1680s. Here he’s being quoted by James Paterson in ‘History of the County of Ayr’ (1852).

Coflein is determined that this is a natural stone, which it surely is. It’s a big and noticeable one though, at 13ft 2ins by 10ft and 4ft 1in high, “and is a natural erratic, of blue augitic porphyrite.” But its presence has been linked in local consciousness with the once-present St Mary’s Chapel (of which no trace is now said to be), St Mary’s well, and the tradition of a burial site on the hill. The Coflein record also mentions rumours “that it was a ‘Druidical Alter’, or used for performing acts of mortification in connection with worship at the nearby chapel”. It’s interesting that the following quote mentions Special Protection afforded to the stone.

At a place called the Chapel Craigs, about half a mile from the village of Dunlop, there existed until lately the ruins of a chapel, which was dedicated to the Virgin Mary... It stood upon a rock, on the side of a rivulet, which was crossed by steps, called the lady’s steps – which steps, however, have been superseded by a bridge. A beautiful stream of water gushes from the rock.

The existence of this chapel has given name to a number of localities around. A few hundred yards south-west of the site of the chapel, on the gentle swell of the hill, is a Druidical stone, called the Thugart stane, supposed to be a corruption of the grit stane. It appears at one time or another to have been a rocking -stone. The base is so covered with rubbisth, that it has now lost its vibratory motion. It lies on the farm of Brandleside, and the tenant is bound in his tack to protect it, by neither removing it, nor cultivating the ground for a considerable number of square yards around it.

Above the site of the chapel, a pathway was cut out of the solid rock, leading to the top of the hill, where tradition says there was a burying-place belonging to the chapel. The pathway is nearly obliterated, a quarry having been opened in the place a number of years ago.

From ‘History of the County of Ayr’ by James Paterson (1852) p45.

The White Horse Stone is important because it reminds us of the Neolithic presence here: whilst the railway cutting was being dug, a Neolithic long house was found, with ‘and undefined bronze age timber circle plus a late bronze/early iron age settlement’. The stone is important, too, for the legends that have become attached to the stones, that now focus, inevitably, on this one, the only one that is left in this immediate spot. The Welsh historian Nennius (c. 800s AD) tells us that, in the mid-400s AD, after the withdrawal of the Roman legions from Britain (410 AD), the king who emerged in Kent (Ceint) was Guoyrancgonus (or Vorancgonus), of unknown origin, though more likely than not an elderly Roman military official who had stayed on, or the son of such a soldier. Guoyrancgonus’s rule was cut short by the High King, Vortigern, who gave Kent to the Jutish mercenary leader Hengist, in return for Hengist’s daughter Renwein.

For this and other outrages, Vortigern was deposed and his sons Vortimer and Catigern fashioned an army of the sons of the Romano-British, dusting off old, discarded standards and brushing rust off kit left behind by the Imperial legions, and set out to drive out the Jutes. History does not recall whether Guoyrancgonus was of their number, but I would like to think he was.

The North Downs are broken by a series of river valleys that flow south-north into the Thames, including the Darenth Valley and then, the next to the east, the Medway. The Romano-British brothers’ first battle was in the Darenth Valley and, against the odds, they were victorious. The Jutes fell back to the next river, the mighty Medway, making their stand at Aylesford, that the Jutes called Episford and the British, Nennius tells us, called Set Thirgabail. Here, the British princes made their second attack, their motley legion and cavalry routing the Jutes at the ford itself and driving the enemy back up the slope of the downs, if the legend is correct, to here, where the White Horse Stone stands. The date assigned to the battle by the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle is 455 AD.

Here, Geoffrey of Monmouth relates, Horsa, the brother of Hengist, came face-to-face with Catigern: Germanic battle-axe clashed with Roman sword: each met its bloody mark, and both princes were slain. Horsa’s white horse standard came clattering down onto the now lost Kentish Standard Stone. A folk tale of a ghostly flaming horse and rider, said to be seen here sometimes, may recall the burning of the bodies after the battle. But Vortimer bore his slain brother Catigern up onto the crest of the downs and buried him in the Neolithic longbarrow that now bears his name – Kit’s Coty . Already some 2,000 years or more old, the longbarrow was 180 feet long, and contained, perhaps, several internal burial chambers of upright sarsens supporting capstones. It is all gone now, victim to rain and plough, all except one of set of three uprights, and a capstone. This stands alone, encircled by railings to keep the curious at bay, and looks out west (as the barrow itself did once) over the Medway Valley.

Having buried Catigern, Vortimer pressed east, trouncing Hengist’s army twice more, once, perhaps, at Stone near Faversham, and finally in the marshy desolation of Thanet, where the Jutes took refuge in their longboats and skulked away back to Jutland. The story ends tragically, however, for Renwein later poisoned Vortimer, her husband Vortigern regained the throne, and allowed Hengist and his following of Jutes, Angles and Saxons to return – this time, for all Aurelius Ambrosius and Arthur tried to emulate Vortimer – never to leave.

That is the story of the White Horse Stone, and Kit’s Coty, and the fall of Britain.

The Venerable Bitard and the Big Penis Videos

La Pierre Levée seems to have become entwined with Poitiers and this is recorded in the various legends and folklore connected with, and still lived out on the site.

One legend says that St. Radegonde , who is buried just over the river in …glise Ste-Radegonde, brought the huge capstone block on her head and the pillars in her apron. The church of Ste-Radegonde can be seen in the background on the 18th c. print of La Pierre Levée from Monuments Druidiques.

The other, more famous folklore comes from the writings of François Rabelais (c. 1494 – April 9, 1553) who was a major French Renaissance writer, doctor and Renaissance humanist. He has historically been regarded as a writer of fantasy, satire, the grotesque, and both bawdy jokes and songs.

Rabelais studied at the University of Poitiers and wrote The Life of Gargantua and Pantagruel (in French, La vie de Gargantua et de Pantagruel).

This is the story of two giants, the father (Gargantua) and his son (Pantagruel) and their adventures, written in an amusing, extravagant, satirical vein. There is much crudity and scatological humour as well as a large amount of violence.
Pantagruel was said to have snatched La Pierre Levée from a local cliff face and placed it in the Dunes, turning it into a banquet table for local scholars who, ‘when they have nothing else to do, pass the time by climbing up onto the stone and banqueting there with large quantities of bottles, hams and pastries, and inscribing their names on the capstone with a knife’. This was illustrated as early as 1561 in Georg Hoefnagel’s “Civitates orbis terratum”

Well things have moved on since then and every year around the spring equinox, a week long festival takes place called the 69th Student’s Semaine. This is overseen by the Bitards, a brotherhood of alcohol enthusiasts who keep alive the infamous Bitardbourg . Activities take place every day, such as the drunken parade to and from La Pierre Levée in honour of Pantagruel. Some of this material is for adults only but for a taste here is the big penis 2007

The Venerable Bitard (LST!)

The demigod of estudiants Poitiers has its origins in ancient times, when gods lived on Olympus. Juno, wife of Jupiter, leaped one day with a shepherd. The anger of her husband must have influenced the destiny: she gave birth in pain. His offspring was a monster head weasel, body of carp, turkey feathers, peacock feathers, wing rails and academic honours. This being, God by his mother, was the revered Bitard (LST!). But Juno, horrified by the sight of her divine child, hurled him over mountains and valleys. The latter fell in the forest of Liguge. For many miracles, he made known his divine nature to the natives. They paid him a cult and fought a shrine in his honor. In the fifth century, St. Martin converted many natives to their religion. The shrine became a convent. But insiders, rejecting the new ideas, fled into the woods with the relics of revered Bitard (LST!). They taught their religion to their children. Thus, over the centuries, their mysteries were sent to dignitaries of the Order of the revered Bitard (LST!). The cult is still celebrated “schoolboys faithful” at night and secret meetings which are allowed the dignitaries.
In addition, every year, around the spring equinox, the heart of a large gathering in the forest of Chanteloup, estudiants, guided by the College, engaged in hunting Bitard (Praised be He!) then back to Poitiers for the new Grand Bitardier through the city.

” So spectacular and remote is the monument that its construction was ascribed to either the Devil or Michael Scot, the great Medieval scholar who was reputed to command demons.”

Geoff Holder The Guide to the Mysterious Lake District (2009)

The information board gives two legends associated with this destroyed tumulus.

The first, and the source of the “Sacrifice” tag, suggests that the straight groove formed along the middle of the stone was used “aux sacrifices rituels et a la magic noire”, (for sacrifice rituals to do with black magic). Presumably the “victim” was sacrificed upon the stone and the blood would be collected as it dripped down the groove into a cup or chalice. This would point to the stone being in a more or less flat position when the tumulus was intact, possibly forming part of the capstone or roof.
The groove is hardly natural and does not travel the whole width of the stone. See enclosed photos. There was record of a Sheppard’s crook or Crosse being carved into one of the upright stones too. Whether this was ancient or done in the later Christian era is unclear, as is also if it survived the 19th century destruction. Maybe it was carved by the church authorities in order to “sanctify and purify” a pagan relic.

A much more ancient legend tells of the “petits hommes”, the little people who were said to inhabit the forest. They were said to have built the tumulus and made it there home. They were so strong that they could carry the enormous 15 tonne blocks with their bare hands. Maybe they were the faries and they could move the huge stones using their magic.

A Furness Diary 1801-1807 published by The Countryman in 1958.......

“Friday, May 24th 1801. About 100yds to the West of Urswick Church in Furness in a field called Kirkflat, adjoining to the highway, stands a rough piece of unhewn limestone, which the Inhabitants of Urswick were accustomed to dress as a Figure of Priapus on Midsummer Day, besmearing it with Sheep Salve, Tar or Butter and covering it with rags of various Dyes, the Head ornamented with flowers.”

Here’s an alternative name for the circles I’d not come across before.

The range is still called “Priddy Nine Barrows.” They stand out boldly on the ridge of the hill as you look towards Wells on the road thither from East and West Harptree [...]

Within a quarter mile south of this line, is another range of seven barrows [...]

Near them are some circular banks, called by the peasants “The Castles;” the diameters of which are each 500 feet, the mound is low, and they have no external ditch. They are a quarter of a mile from the barrows opened, and about 250 feet distant from each other.

From the Archaeological Journal, v16 (1859) p150 (in the Rev. Harry M Scarth’s Account of the Investigation of Barrows).

Welcome to another of my speculative posts. But I like to think this one’s got something going for it. Ifan Gruffydd was a farmhand, also an author of two books of memoirs. He was born in Llangristiolus in 1896, so it seems highly likely to me that when he talks about

Did your mother believe in the fairies?
Well, I can’t say if she believed or not, but she would give me the impression that she did. And that impression, of course, caused me to believe. Yes to believe firmly in the fairies and to take a keen interest in them, although I would be afraid of them. And you’d be in trouble if you came across the fairies, or they came across you, in some enclosure or wood where they lived. And they lived in many places. They lived in Coed yr Henblas (Henblas Wood), as we say. And in the cave – Ogof Pitar Graen (Peter Green’s Cave) we used to call it. Well, the fairies were there. There was no argument about that. But, of course, they wouldn’t be out all the time. Sometimes when it was quiet the fairies would play outside the cave’s door, so they said. And the old people used to say that they always had their eye on small children – if they could get hold of them. If they caught a young child, they would take it inside the cave and keep it for a year and a day.

More notes on the story are here at the Museum of Wales site:

In the printed version of this story Ifan Gruffydd stated that he was around seven to eight years old when he first saw the little family on Christmas Day, and he calls the cave ‘Yr Ogof Fawr’ [’The Great Cave’]. In his reminiscences on tape, however, when questioned further about the cave he made this comment:

‘We call it ‘Ogof Pitar Graen’ [“Peter Green’s Cave”]. Some old boy called Peter Green had been living there, you see. Well, the old cave was frequented by many people such as those I’ve mentioned to you. The occasional tramp, you see, making his home in the cave for a week, say, or a fortnight, or sometimes for the whole winter. Venturing out to gather what food he could in the countryside... and some were craftsmen who could go round the farms asking whether they needed tools sharpening, or dishes mended – wooden dishes I mean now... An old tailor, perhaps, wandering. Well, no one would know how he’d come to be in that state... I saw many a family, too, who’d seen better times.‘

I’m happy to be disproved, but it seems a reasonable assumption to me? Here https://www.museumwales.ac.uk/en/folktales/stories/?id=7 he tells the story of how as a boy he fell in love with a girl who lived at the cave. Or Was She A Fairy. Etc.