Rhiannon

The placenames on the 1:25,000 map certainly suggest this is the right place:

Let us now come to the treasure caves, and begin with Ogof Arthur, ‘Arthur’s Cave,’ in the southern side of Mynydd y Cnwc in the parish of Llangwyfan, on the south-westem coast of Anglesey. The foot of Mynydd y Cnwc is washed by the sea, and the mouth of the cave is closed by its waters at high tide, but the cave, which is spacious, has a vent-hole in the side of the mountain [*] . So it is at any rate reported in the Brython for 1859, p. 138, by a writer who explored the place, though not to the end of the mile which it is said to measure in length. He mentions a local tradition, that it contains various treasures, and that it temporarily afforded Arthur shelter in the course of his wars with the Gwyddelod or Goidels. But he describes also a cromlech on the top of Mynydd y Cnwc, around which there was a circle of stones, while within the latter there lies buried, it is believed, an iron chest full of ancient gold. Various attempts are said to have been made by the more greedy of the neighbouring inhabitants to dig it up, but they have always been frightened away by portents. Here then the guardians of the treasure are creatures of a supernatural kind...

[*] All said by natives of Anglesey about rivers and mountains in their island must be taken relatively, for though the country has a very uneven surface it has no real mountain: they are apt to call a brook a river and a hillock a mountain, though the majestic heights of Arfon are within sight.

From chapter 8 of ‘Celtic Folklore, Welsh and Manx’ by John Rhys (1901), which you can read at the Sacred Texts Archive.

There is a curious tradition, concerning Tombeg, which, if founded on fact, may help to account for the state in which the circle is now to be seen. The Rev. Wm. M. Macpherson, D.D., on p72 of his History of the Church and Priory of Monymusk, says: “The granite used in the building is not the same as the common blocks in the fields, or in recently opened quarries. The tradition is that it was taken from Tombeg farm, and that the stones were passed from hand to hand down the hill.”

This may mean that the loose blocks found lying on the hill were taken, or it may mean that the stones were quarried there.

He suggests that workmen would much rather nick the stones of a circle than quarry some themselves, especially if they could despoil a ‘heathen temple’ at the same time. But then he spoils things by saying “the single stone now remaining would no doubt be left as a rubbing post, as has been done in so many other cases.” – which conjures a touching picture of the stone stealers caring about the comfort of itchy livestock. Hmm. Seems unlikely.

Still, the Rumour is the important thing, even if it’s not true.

From ‘Some stone circles in central Aberdeenshire’ by James Ritchie, PSAS 1917, volume 51, p30-47.

The RCAHMS record linked to below suggests that local people once knew the site as “The Covenanters Preaching Stones” (exact punctuation up to you I think) – the Covenanters, for historically ignorant sassenachs like myself, being 17th century Scottish Presbyterians.

But I wonder whether the stone(s) here is also the one in the following story:

One [tradition still floating about in the district] relates how, on one occasion, a brawny Highlander had occasion to pass the house [of Frendraught]. He was observed by the lady, who remarked to her husband that he was the prettiest man she had ever seen. This remark led to a quarrel, and her husband, filled with jealous anger, is said to have rushed from the house and followed the unsuspecting Highlander, whom he slew, and buried under a large stone near the hill top.

It seems likely, does it not. ??

From ‘Some stone circles in central Aberdeenshire’ by James Ritchie, PSAS 1917, volume 51, p30-47.

A walk to the summit of Knocklead, one of the Aura mountains, close to Ballycastle, was not fatiguing in the true sense of the word.
...Seventeen hundred feet higher in the air than when I set out, I felt as if the elastic and buoyant spirit within had risen in the same proportion.
... My seat at this moment was the Cairn of the Three, a tumulus where, according to old tradition, three Danish princesses, after many wanderings and sorrows, found a final resting place.

This mountain is believed by the peasantry to contain in its bosom a reservoir of water, destined one day to rush forth, and inundate the country to the extent of seven miles around.
Such was the prophecy of Sheelah Dubhni Malone, the Black Nun of Bona Margy, who formerly resided in the Franciscan abbey of that name, and enjoyed a high reputation for her knowledge of futurity.

From ‘Ireland Picturesque and Romantic’ by L Ritchie (1838).

The NI Sites and Monuments record mentions that the cairn, ‘Carn An Truagh’, is at the junction of 10 townlands, that it is a whopping 7m high, and that it uses lots of white quartz. The enclosing kerb is visible on the south west side. They suggest it could actually be a passage tomb.

Even in the present day “Dermod and Grania’s beds” are associated with runaway couples and with aphrodisiac customs. Of this Dutton’s experience when in search of the Ballycasheen “bed” in Clare, is an excellent example. He relates that on inquiry from some country girls where this celebrated “bed” was situated, he was heartily laughed at for asking one of them to show him the way to it.
“After a long consultation with one somewhat older than herself- sometimes with very serious countenances, often with smiling ones, and the elder using a good deal of persuasion – she agreed to go with me, if she was certain I was a stranger, and she knew my name. As the conversation between them was in Irish, which I did not understand, and the evening was growing late, I became impatient, and very ungallantly rode away. When I had ridden a mile further I made the same inquiry from a herd’s wife, and at the same time told her how I had been laughed at by the girls. She said, ‘No wonder for them, for it was the custom that if whe went with a stranger to Darby and Grane’s bed she was certainly to grant him everything he asked.’ ”
Commenting on this, W C Borlace remarks that from anecdotes he had himself heard, as well as from covert jokes which he noticed, passing in Irish, between persons who had accompanied him to “Dermod and Grania’s beds,” he is sure that this reputation is still attached to these monuments. No doubt but that from Pagan times comes the widespread notion that these “Beds” were efficacious in cases of barrenness. Dutton remarks that if a woman “proves barren, a visit with her husband to Darby and Grane’s bed certainly cures her.”

From ‘Traces of the elder faiths of Ireland’ (p348-9) by W G Wood-Martin, 1902.

Of Finnigirt Dr. Jacobsen says: “There are a few legends told about places along this dyke stead, and the spot where it terminates on the south side of the island has been of old a noted place for trolls.

From John Spence, ‘Shetland Folk-lore’ 1899. (Dr Jakobsen researched language and folklore on Shetland.)

According to Spence, whenever ‘Finn’ turns up in a Shetland place name it refers to a legendary race of beings, some of whom had descendants with extraordinary powers (such as being able to render themselves invisible, metamorphose into animals, and even understand the corbies – the ravens. They also had control over the weather at sea, and could find things lost at sea, and ride the ‘Neugle’ water horses.)

On Skipwith common are many conspicuous tumuli, which are by popular tradition connected with the defeat of the Norwegian army which ... landed at Riccall in 1066.

Sheahan and Whellan’s 1856 ‘History and Topography of the City of York...’ v2, p628.

This is actually an Iron age ‘Defended Settlement’ – an unusual and distinctively northern type of prehistoric fort. It’s defended by the cliffs of Spindlestone Heughs on the south east. The settlement is rectangular and has two annexes, one on the north and one on the west.

The site features in the legend of the Laidly Worm:

An isolated pillar called the Bridle Rock stands out from the edge of the cliff on which tradition says that the Childe threw the bridle of his horse when he went to meet the Worm.

… it is more commonly called the “Spindle Stone” from its shape. .. Near it was the cave of the Worm, but the outer wall has unfortunately been quarried away, and all that remains is a blackened slab of stone forming part, it is said, of the inner wall. A few hundred yards in another direction is the trough which held the milk of the “seven kine” and from which the Worm drank. It is a hollowed stone, some six feet long, two wide and two deep, and now forms a drinking place for cattle.

From various sources, collected in County Folk-lore v4, Northumberland (1904).

There are two stones here, nine yards apart. Perhaps they’re natural, I can’t find a photo.

Hedgeley Moor was the site of a Yorkist/Lancastrian battle in 1464. The Lancastrians were led by Sir Ralph Percy. When Percy copped a mortal blow, well he was supposed to have leapt the distance between these two stones. One supposes on his horse, though how boring is that.

Sir Walter Scott measured the distance “and would have said and almost sworn that it was but eighteen feet.” There’s nothing like a bit of exaggeration – but perhaps a passing TMA reader should go and check.

Percy was supposed to have actually died across the road at the spot where ‘Percy’s Cross’ now stands.

(Mentioned in Chatto’s ‘Rambles in Northumberland’ (1835) p223, and Scott’s 1827 journal.)

Stoney folklore:

On the top of “Hedgehope,” the round-headed hill that is neighbour to Cheviot, there is a hollow in an incised stone, known as the “Bluidy Trough,” on account of the colour given to the water by the orange-red moss or lichen covering the stone. It is lucky to make a wish here, and drop in a crooked pin – a great number can be seen clearly, lying in the bottom of the hollow, in the water.

Contributed by Mr. T--., Belford, Northumberland, estate agent.

From ‘County Folk-lore’ volume 4, Northumberland, by M C Balfour and N W Thomas (1904).

... the high hill in the [Matson] neighbourhood was called Robins’s Wood Hill... There is another hill at Church-Down, about three miles distant, arising in like manner in the midst of the vale; and these two are called Robin Hood’s Butts.
ATKYNS, p 289.

From ‘Folk-lore of Gloucestershire’ – County Folklore v1, 1895.

[A] local tradition of King Arthur is told by Dr. Bruce: “To the north of Sewingshields, two strata of sandstone crop out to the day; the highest points of each ledge are called the King and Queen’s Crag, from the following legend. King Arthur, seated on the furthest rock, was talking with his queen, who, meanwhile, was engaged in arranging her ‘back hair.’ Some expression of the queen’s having offended his majesty, he seized a rock which lay near him, and with an exertion of strength for which the Picts were proverbial, threw it at her, a distance of about a quarter of a mile! The queen with great dexterity caught it upon her comb, and thus warded off the blow; the stone fell between them, where it lies to this very day, with the marks of the comb upon it, to attest the truth of the story. It probably weighs about twenty tons.”

One would imagine the comb marks are those clearly seen at the top of the massive stone in Hob’s photo.

From the Denham Tract called ‘Border Sketches of Folklore’ – you may read the rest at
lib.rochester.edu/camelot/denhamtracts.htm

If you were travelling from Everleigh to Collingbourne Kingston, you’d come this way. You might well go through the strip of woodland between the barrows. But I hope you’d have a clear conscience.

You see, there was once a pair of highway robbers who terrorised the Bath road – they were no Robin Hoods and would take from rich and poor alike. That was bad enough, but when they killed an old farmer and his wife with an iron bar, and then set fire to the farmhouse to disguise their crime – well the local men had had enough. Everyone was after them and the murderers had to hide up by day where they could, moving on under the cover of night.

This night they were crossing the Downs between Everleigh and Collingbourne Kingston. Luckily (so they thought) there were some woods which they could take a rest in – but they forgot that nobody ever went that way after dark if they could help it – especially those with evil consciences. They heard the distant shouting of their pursuers and headed deeper between the trees. But – what was that strange green light ahead? Two green saucer-like eyes were watching them! They stumbled away down another path in panic – but there the eyes were again shining right by their shoulders.

Screaming they ran out of the wood and straight into the hands of the men – who took them straight to Devizes Jail. “We knew we’d get them when they ran down into the woods. All we had to do was wait and let the Black Dog send ‘em back,” the villagers said.

The robbers were hanged back in the eighteenth century, but it’s said the (crime fighting?) Black Dog was seen in the twentieth.

Story from ‘Forgotten folk tales’ by Ruth Tongue (1970).

Elsewhere (like the Wambarrows) Black Dogs are associated with barrows – so I don’t see why these barrows shouldn’t be his home.

It might be best not to speak to anyone you meet up here.

A long time ago there was a servant lassie, who worked for the Minister at Little Dunkeld. She was a quiet lass, who had no mind for dances and such follies, and she liked fine to go for long walks on Birnam Hill.
After a time she told the Minister that she had met a grand gentleman there, who used to walk and talk with her, and he was courting her.

The Minister thought he’d better meet this man, so he was asked to the Manse. He looked very grand, and spoke very nicely, but when the Minister looked down at his feet – the blood ran cold in his veins, ‘for he saw that he had cloven hoofs, and he knew that there was just one person that had that.’ The girl couldn’t seem to see them – she just saw a shiny pair of boots.

She wasn’t to be put off, and eventually they were to be married. The Minister was not very happy but got her to agree to one condition – that if they were to be wed, he would do the ceremony himself.

On the big day the Fine Gentleman turned up in his carriage drawn by six black horses. Everyone was very impressed but the Minister could still see his cloven hoofs as plain as anything. Before the ceremony the Minister got a candle and lit it at both ends – “Now when this candle is burnt out I’ll marry you, and not a minute before.” The bride and groom were most put out, but everyone stood there waiting. When it had burnt down to a couple of inches, the Minister popped it into his mouth and swallowed it – “Now it’ll never burn out and you’ll never be married!” Upon this theatricality the stranger gave an enormous shriek, leapt out the window and disappeared into the ground. They say no grass will grow on that spot to this day.

The story was collected by K M Briggs from a Mary Crerer who lived in Dunkeld in 1926. It’s printed in Briggs’ ‘Dictionary of British Folktales’.

North of the Roman road, and on West Compton Down, but on a portion now brought under cultivation, are two stones, generally considered to show the site of an ancient cromlech. They were formerly prostrate, but are now placed upright. This was done, I am informed on good authority, about forty years ago; a farmer, it appears, wishing to rid himself of these hindrances to the plough, endeavoured so much difficulty that he finally desisted, and raised them on end instead. The stones are of no mean size, and are said to extend beneath the surface to a depth equal to their height above the ground. As they now stand, one is three feet four inches above the present surface, and the other four feet. The breadth, measured across from end to end in the case of each stone, is about six feet six inches, with a thickness of about one foot six inches.

Oh yes, good authority I’m sure. But you’re still trotting out the same old themes of ‘great difficulty moving them so he put them back’ and ‘same below as above ground’. And come on – why would the farmer go to so much trouble to put them upright?! I’m not buying it which is why this is firmly in the Folklore category. From E Dunkin’s ‘Some Account of the Megalithic Remains in South Dorset’ in ‘Reliquary’ January 1871.

STONE CELTS,
called soigheds, or “fairy darts,” are used by the “good people,” and any one that is “fairy struck” has been hit with one of them. If you find one, either on the ground or in the tillage, you should not bring it into the house, or bury it, or throw it away, but you should put it carefully in a hole in the field wall, or ditch, or in a tree, where it will not be easily found, otherwise something will hapen to you.
Aranmore is a great place for soigheds, and they are greatly venerated, although many of them apparently are of recent make.

It seems the blades were made in recent times on Aran for skinning seals for food and their skins, and

... even at the present day I have seen them used while skinning a calf. The Aranites very often carry a soighed with them when they are going to a patron on the mainland, and leave it behind them at the holy well as a votive offering...

Connemara Folk-Lore
G. H. Kinahan
The Folk-Lore Journal, Vol. 2, No. 9 (Sep., 1884), pp. 257-266

St. Kevin allegedly died on June the 3rd. His feast day used to be a good excuse for feasting and partying at Glendalough (the place where he founded a monastic settlement). Apparently it all got more and more out of hand – and the festival was banned in the 1890s, according to Kevin Patton’s jocular website here
lionden.com/st.htm
- which calls for St. Kevin’s day to be celebrated once again.

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Johann Kohl’s 1844 ‘Travels in Ireland’ reports that:

The chief wonder in these cliffs is St. Kevin’s bed, a little hollow, which is seen some forty feet above the water, and is approached by narrow steps cut in the rock. It appears to have been hollowed out by the hand of man, and is so small that one person only can conveniently stretch himself out in it. It is also said by the people to possess the same virtues in regard to the fruitfulness of women which are ascribed to the cross I have already mentioned... [Their guide, an old woman, proclaimed] that it was her privilege to show a stranger the position of a woman in Kevin’s bed. She accordingly crouched herself in it like a bird in its nest, or the image of a saint in its niche, and as seen from the lake, presented a very comical appearance.

But why, you may ask, would a saint be associated with women’s fertility? That’s because Kevin was popular with the girls, until he decided he was going to be a Saint. But his poor girlfriend Kathleen still loved him. And when he went off to find somewhere quiet so he could try to forget her – his Cave – she insisted on following him. When he woke up one morning, there she was looking at him – he leapt up and shoved her backwards. Unfortunately she fell down the rocks and into the lake, where she drowned. He felt a bit sorry then and prayed for her soul, and that no-one should ever drown in the lake again. Which they haven’t of course.

Another megalithic site associated with witchcraft is the tomb known as Le Trepied, in the parish of St Saviour, Guernsey. ‘It was a notorious meeting-place for Guernsey witches, the Friday night Sabbats being sufficiently important to be attended by the devil himself, and the place is repeatedly mentioned in the witch trials of the seventeenth century.’ -- (Sir) T D Kendrick. The Archaeology of the Channel Islands. I. The Bailiwick of Guernsey. 1928, pp188-9.

From a footnote in Leslie Grinsell’s ‘Witchcraft at some prehistoric sites’, in K Briggs’s ‘The Witch Figure’ (1973).

This article by the eminent Grinsell collects examples of witch and fairy lore being bound up with barrows:

Another possible instance comes from the trial of Elizabeth Pratt of Dunstable, Bedfordshire, in 1667:

“Elizabeth Pratt, when asked about two children of Thomas Heyward who were said to have been bewitched to death, accused instead three other Dunstable women. She said that ‘the devill appeared to her about a fortnight since in the form of a catt, and Commanded [her] to goe to those three persons aforesaid to seeke the destroying of the two Children...’ She said she was with them when they mett to bewitch the eldest childe of the said Heyward, and that they had two meetings about it whereof one was at the Three Knolls upon the Dunstable Downes, and the other a little lower upon the said Downes.‘

The ‘Three Knolls’ are of course the well-known group of Bronze Age barrows now known as the Five Knolls, three of which are bell-shaped and enclosed by the same ditch. Elizabeth Pratt was committed to Bedford Gaol where her name occurs next to that of John Bunyan in the prison register.

I know, I know, the whole ‘witchcraft’ thing is highly suspect as we don’t know if or how Ms Pratt was ‘encouraged’ to confess. But if someone else came up with the knolls as a location perhaps they thought them the type of place that would be right for a bit of witchcraft. Or, it really IS right for a bit of witchcraft.

From the eminent L V Grinsell’s ‘Witchcraft at some prehistoric sites’, in K Briggs’s ‘The Witch Figure’ (1973).

During the years previous to the victory of Trafalgar, every man, woman and child along the south coast lived in dread of invasion ... Detailed preparations were made in case the enermy should appear. On the hills, such as Shipton Hill near Burton Bradstock, beacons were kept in readiness. They were to be fired immediately there came news of a landing ... Tradition also has it that women drilled with pikes on the top of Lambert’s Castle “to frighten away the French”!

From ‘Dorset – Up along and down along’ (1935).

CAPRA’s list of caves here says that flints, antler and human bones from the Early Neolithic were found here when it was excavated in the 1950s.

Thomas Hinderwell mentioned it in his 1798 ‘History and Antiquities of Scarborough and the Vicinity’:

Upon the hill, above the house, is a small Cave, in a rock, called by the country people Ilfrid’s Hole; they inform the inquirer, from tradition of their ancestors, that a Saxon King of that name, being wounded in battle, fled from his pursuers, and took shelter in this cave, where he remained one night, and was next day conveyed to Driffield.

The following inscription, which was upon a stone over the Cave, and afterwards painted upon wood when the stone decayed, is remembered by some of the ancient inhabitants.

“Alfrid, King of Northumberland, was wounded in a bloody battle near this place, and was removed to Little Driffield where he lies buried: hard by, his entrenchments may be seen.”

An inclosure at the west end of Ebberston, adjoining the Pickering road, now known by the name of Bloody Close, strongly indicates that a battle has been fought there; but the tradition is, that Alfrid was wounded in a battle within the lines of Scam-ridge, (either Six Dikes, or Ofwy’s Dikes) near this place.

This Cave is now almost filled up by the falling in of the rock ; but several of the old people of the village remember when it would have contained eight or ten persons.

*Corrupt name for Alfrid’s Cave.

The tumulus is about 30 feet square, with sides running parallel to the road, having a large fir-tree growing at each angle, of which the people around say that the four trees represent four knights who were killed and buried there. This, however, can only be conjecture, as the trees are but the same age as those in the “Avenue” which were planted in 1740 by John, Duke of Montague.

In ‘Open-Air Assemblies’ by G Laurence Gomme, in Antiquary (Dec. 1887, p233).

Several tumuli at one time existed on Selattyn Hill, and there are still the remains of one at “Orsedd Wen”, which has been opened and which tradition connected with Gwen, the son of Llywarch Hen, who is said to have been slain on the adjacent Morlas, near “Prees Gwyn”.

From a review of the “History of Selattyn Parish” in Archaeologia Cambrensis, Jan. 1898.

But I suspect this is no local tale at all but comes from a highly imaginative article in the same journal, back in 1851. The author seems desperate to prove the site contains the son of Llywarch Hen, using various tiny ambiguous snippets from old manuscripts, but he basicially ransacks the cairn – the poor occupant is not treated with any dignity. It’s a strange combination of attitudes and if I met thedigger/author, W Wynne Foulkes, I think I’d give him a piece of my mind.

It’s not really ‘to do with’ the settlement, but it features silently as the landing spot in a strange tale. This is what allegedly happened:

The story runs that [Robert] Willance, who was a successful lead miner, was out hunting when the moors became enveloped in fog. However, he galloped on towards the cry of hounds in front to the edge of the precipitous cliff. Unable to pull up the horse went over, and falling the 200 odd feet to the valley below was killed outright. The rider escaped with a broken leg, and tradition says he lay where he was for three days, blowing his horn at intervals to call aid. It is hardly likely he would escape the search parties who would certainly scour the district for him, so long, but let that pass. Another local tradition is that he cut open the belly of his horse and put his fractured limb inside to preserve it from the frost. Anyhow it had to be amputated and was buried in Richmond churchyard till such time as its owner should complete the interment. This took place on Feb. 12, 1615, Willance having in the meantime become an alderman of his native town and having had three stones erected at the place where his horse took its fatal jump. Each stone was placed twenty-four feet apart, and two of them were inscribed: “1606: Glory be to our merciful God, who miraculously preserved me from the danger so great.”

The whole thing sounds very fishy to me, including the stoney bit – why was the horse leaping for one thing? But I shouldn’t question it as the locals love it – they erected another stone there in 2006.
The story above is courtesy of J Fairfax-Blakeborough, in Notes and Queries for Sept. 26th, 1925.

A CROMLECH.--Passing lately through the village of Stoke-Bishop, a little beyond the western side of Durdham Down, I observed in an angle of a field immediately facing the road to Westbury a remarkably fine cromlech. The cap-stone, which appears to weigh about a couple of tons, rests against the last remaining support. Two former “supports” are lying prostrate by the side of it, as well as a third stone, which stood probably at the head of the monument, to indicate the burial-place of a chieftain.

Being a stranger in the neighbourhood, I inquired of the first passenger whom I met ( a labourer) what name the stone in question bore, and what was known of it. He replied, that it had not stood very long in its present position; that an old man in the village had assured him it had been brought into the field under very mysterious circumstances; in short, that it had been found there one morning! This is a repetition of an old-wives’ tale, as common in the East as in the West.

A second labourer, to whom I appealed for information upon the subject, said that nothing whatever was known about the stone; that some thought it very ancient indeed, and others that it was quite modern...

From ‘Notes and Queries,’ Dec 14th, 1867.

Also in Mr Britton’s 1801 ‘Beauties of Wilshire’ it’s mentioned that Alfred’s Tower “was erected [in 1772) by Mr. Henry Hoare, to commemorate a signal victory which Alfred obtained over the Danes near this spot... Tradition (which has commonly some foundation for its stories) says that there was so much blood shed in the above-mentioned battle, that the water was stained therewith three leagues below Christ-church.”

And to link the King Alfred and the beacon stories together (see misc. post), the website devoted to the tower quotes Harper’s Weekly from 1901: “Local tradition says that on Stourton hill... the beacon was lighted that summoned the men of three counties to Alfred’s standard.”

The site also suggests that the boundaries of those three counties (Wiltshire, Somerset and Dorset) once met up here. Probably.

This page on the Tha Engliscan Gesithas site is an interesting argument for the hills here being the ‘Woden’s Hlaew’ mentioned in Anglo Saxon documents – and thus once sacred to Woden.

Maybe it could be that people were aware of the earthworks up here and just put them down to Woden (in a kind of ‘Grim’s Ditch’ sort of way).

That’s if there’s truly any link at all of course...

The Somerset HER website describes this as possibly the biggest hillfort in the country! covering the whole top of the hill. And there are finds from Mesolithic to R*man times. So you’d think there’d be room for a few ghosts.

Hamdon Hill is, as some might say, ‘seriously haunted’, with descriptions of ‘bizarre shapes outlined by light’ to those of Roman soldiers walking the hilly ramparts.

... G F Munford [one time editor of the Western Gazette] was an avid collector of supernatural tales ... one of his favourites concerned a local witch whose spirit is still said to haunt the district.

Another startling story tells of ... David G., a retired postal worker [who] was visiting friends in the nearby hamlet of Hamdon Hill. It was a humid afternoon in the summer of 1957 and his first excursion to Somerset. He was driving along the boundary of the hill ...

“There wasn’t another car in sight, and although it was broad daylight I couldn’t help feel that something wasn’t right. I was also feeling tired, but not sleepy. There were lots of people walking towards me. Bit of a surprise. I stopped and turned off the engine. The shock of it was that these people were dressed in armoured uniforms. They looked the spitting image of Roman soldiers, bit like the ones I had seen in ‘The Robe’, which was showing that year in town [at the cinema]. I really thought a film was being shot, until they just kept coming on and walked right through the car and me. Everything turned very cold. Believe me, it took a long time to get started. I arrived to my friends safe and sound. Never said a word, until you brought up the subject of ghosts.”

Mr G. allegedly asked his friend not to share the story with anyone until after his death (which the book says was the year after his experience).
From ‘Haunted Somerset’ by John Garland (2007).

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I so want the nearby knoll of ‘St Michael’s Hill’ (known as Lodegarsburgh in Saxon times) to have prehistoric significance. But if there ever were traces they’ve been destroyed by the overlaying layers of Norman castle. It’s got interesting (and madly complicated) stoney folklore, according to Alan Holt’s ‘Folklore of Somerset’ (1992). A blacksmith dreamed that Jesus told him to dig on the top of the hill. He had to dream it three times before he was convinced. In the hole he found a ‘great stone which miraculously split in two, and in the cleft they saw a great crucifix of glistening black flint. Beneath it was a smaller one, an old bell and an old book.’ Then the Dane Tofig stuck the cross on the back of a cart, drawn by 12 red oxen. The oxen didn’t want to go anywhere except Waltham, where Tofig built his Abbey. He displayed the crucifix and when King Harold turned up it bowed to him.

Giant stones? Flint? Blacksmiths? Red oxen? Crucifixes? Mental.

From John Garland’s ‘Haunted Somerset’ (2007):

The pretty little hillside village of Stogumber boasts one of the hardest to find and reach promontory fortresses, Curdon Camp, carpeted with undergrowth and thick foliage. It is in Curdon Copse, which locals say is haunted by ‘queer looking pixies’, and will-o-the-wisps have been witnessed hovering over its brook.

The Somerset HER suggests this may be an Iron Age hill-slope enclosure, rather than a full-blown hillfort. The banks have been quarried but there may still be something to see on the west and south sides. It’s a scheduled monument so you would hope the destruction is at an end.

Curiously, directly on the other side of the Donniford Stream.. and the electricity pylons.. and the railway.. was allegedly another camp, called ‘Turks Castle Camp’. Although there don’t seem to be any traces (the railway was put straight through it) it still gets a mention on the OS map, while Curdon Camp languishes in obscurity.

John Garland says (in his 2007 ‘Haunted Somerset’):

Hill climbers and ramblers often report strange and ‘distant voices’ and on occasions feel as if ‘being watched’ by unseen eyes in and around Porlock’s Berry Castle, situated on a lower ride of one of Exmoor’s combes, acclaimed for its scenic beauty.

The Somerset HER says that this site is likely to be an Iron Age / Romano-British era hillslope enclosure. It might never have been finished (you know how these DIY projects drag on). Another small enclosure exists up the slope to the south west. The record suggests the land is open access here.

It is believed that there is an invisible door in Cadbury Hill, Nailsea. ... whoever finds this door and enters will encounter the ghosts of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table.

The door recalls that at Alderley Edge. But I do hope it’s the real Arthur and his knights, and not just ghosts. From the 2007 ‘Haunted Somerset’ by John Garland.

Just beyond Cannington... a lane reaches out to a desolate field encircling a quarry. It is called the Warren. Archaeological excavations may have answered the talk about ‘several misty figures’ and the area’s sometimes sombre mood. Not only were a number of skeletons unearthed, but experts believe it is the site of a huge battle because several of the skeletons showed signs of injury.

Cannington Park ... [spurs] forth a pack of demon hounds on misty mornings. Cynwit’s Castle ... is said to be very haunted by scary faeries and a demonic wild hunt. ... [The] Park’s headless horsemen of ‘The Devil’s Hunting Ground’ have given the Park’s wilderness a grim reputation. It has also given good incentive for the locally superstitious to uphold the custom of either carrying a small cross of aspen wood, wear blue, or simply avoid the place after sunset...

Seemingly a bit geographically confused? but you hope the stories really are still doing the rounds. From ‘Haunted Somerset’ by John Garland (2007).

To the superstition about the sides of the sheep of Largo Law, add, as a note, that the same idea prevails in the south about the teeth of those which graze upon the Eildon hills. We know, from authentic documents, that there were gold mines in these hills in the time of James VI; but whether the metal communicates any tinge to the verdure, and the verdure again to the teeth of the sheep, must be left to naturalists.

From the additions to ‘The Popular Rhymes of Scotland’ by Robert Chambers (1826).

The Largo Law sheep have golden fleeces due to the golden hoard beneath the surface. I thought Largo Law was on TMA but it seems not – insufficient archaeology! It is a prominent hill near the stones at Lundin Links, and you can see a photo of it on that page.

On the farm of Clerkston, in the parish of Lesmahagow, there had existed since creation an immense stone, or saxum, which, being deeply bedded in the middle of a good field, at a great distance from any other rocks, was productive of infinite inconvenience to the husbandman, and defrauded the proprietor of a considerable portion of territory.

Beneath this stone, it was believed by the country people of the last generation, that there was secreted a vast treasure, in the shape of “a kettle-full, a boot-full, and a bull-hide-full,” of gold; all which got the ordinary name, reason unknown, of “katie Neevie’s hoord.” The credibility of this popular tradition was attested by a rhyme to the following effect:--

Between Dillerhill and Crossfoord,
Here Lies Katie Neevie’s Hoord.

Many efforts had been made, according to the gossips, to remove the stone, and get at the treasure; but all were baffled by the bodily appearance of the enemy of mankind, who, by breathing intolerable flame in the faces of those making the attempt, obliged them to desisted. Thus well guarded, the legacy of Mrs. Katherine Niven lay for centuries as snug as if it had been deposited in Chancery; and it was not till at least an hundred years after the last despairing effort had been made that the charm was at length broke.

Mr James Prentice, the present farmer of Clerkston, had the address to convince several Irishmen, who had served him during the harvest, of the truth of the said rhyme; and, by expatiating upon the supposed immensity of the treasure, wrought up their curiosity and their cupidity to such a pitch, that they resolved, with his permission, to break the stone in pieces, and make themselves master of whatever might be found below. On the day after the kirn, therefore, the poor fellows provided themselves with a well-loaded gun, for the protection of their persons from the Devil, and fell to work, with punches and mallets, to blow up and utterly destroy the huge stone which alone intervened between them and everlasting affluence.

They laboured the whole day, without provoking any visit from Satan, and at last succeeded in fairly eradicating the stone from the field which it had so long encumbered; when they became at once convinced of the fallacy of the rhyme, of the craft of Mr. Prentice, and of their own deluded credulity.

p68 in ‘The Popular Rhymes of Scotland’ by Robert Chambers (1826).

This large hillfort was protected on one side by the natural crags, and had a single rampart around the rest of its perimeter. A lot of the stones from the wall have gone, but the Canmore record suggests that there are still some massive ‘grounders’ that remain. It also mentions that the boundaries of three parishes meet here.

Robert Chambers’ ‘Popular Rhymes of Scotland’ (1826) says on page 33:

On the top of Benarty, which rises above Loch Orr, there were formerly held games, which all the herds of Fife, and other neighbouring counties, attended. They brought their wives, daughters and sweethearts; and having a plentiful stock of victuals, kept up the fete for a few days, bivouacking upon the ground during the night. The chief games were the golf, the foot-ball, and the wads*; and what with howling, singing, and drinking, after the manner of the modern Irish, they continued to spend the time very merrily. The top of Benarty is flat, and sufficiently extensive for their for their purpose. This custom is now disused, -- the number of herds being much diminished, and the profession not being of such importance in the country as formerly, on account of the increased number of fences.

* Wad -- a pledge or hostage.

“In this game the players being equally divided, and a certain space marked out between them, each lays down one or more Wads or pledges at that extremity where the party, to which he belongs, choose their station. A boundary being fixed at an equal distance from the extremities, the object is to carry off the wads from the one of these to the other. The two parties, advancing to the boundary or line, seize the first opportunity of crossing it, by making inroads on the territories of each other. He who crosses the line, if sezed by one of the opposite party, before he has touched any of their wads, is set down beside them as a prisoner, and receives the name of a Stinker; nor can he be released, till one of his own side can touch him, without being intercepted by one of the other; in which case he is free. If any one is caught in the act of carrying a wad, it is taken from him; but he cannot be detained as a prisoner, in consequence of his having touched it the pursuit is at an end. When the one party have carried off, to the extremity of their ground, all the other wads of the other, the game is finished. ”

Hope you’ve got that. It’s from Folklore vol VII – Fife, here.

The Height Atween Tintock-Tap And Coulter-Fell
Is Just Three Quarters O’ An Ell.

These hills are the most conspicuous objects in a district of Lanarkshire, which is in general rather flat; and the rhyme seems merely to denote that they are nearly of the same height.

p16 in ‘The popular rhymes of Scotland’ by Robert Chambers (1826).

Can it really only refer to something so mundane? It sounds like an aphorism you would speak sagely in response to a certain situation. You wouldn’t say:“There’s many a slip twixt cup and lip. This seems merely to denote that some people have messy table manners.”

This stone is otherwise known as Clach a’ Druidh. It’s a massive lumpy glacial erratic boulder, over six metres long and broad, which rises four metres out of the ground. Obviously it’s the rock of the druids. Slightly less convincing is to link the name with Roderick Hael, a king of Strathclyde.
This page from the Geological Conservation Review says it is composed of a basalt, criss-crossed by haematite veins. A quick websearch suggests it’s currently (and probably always has been) the haunt of rock climbers. If you can’t get to the top, BRAC has some photos of some cupmarks that are up there.

Canmap describes two stones here. They’re only about four feet high and are both ‘natural stones with no artificial markings’. This folklore admittedly doesn’t involve them, but is about their environment above the steep slopes down into the city.

The Glasgow chronicle (January, 1826) records the following occurrence at Paisley, on the occasion of some silkworkers being out of employment.*

“Visions have been seen of carts, caravans, and coaches going up Gleniffer braes without horses, or with horses without heads. Not many nights ago, mourning coaches, too, were seen going up the Cart above the town, with all the solemnity of a funeral. Some hoary-headed citizens relate, that about thirty years backward in their history, a famine was prognosticated in much the same way, by unusual appearances in the Causey-side. The most formidable witnesses in favour of the visions come from Neilston, who declare that they have seen the coaches, &c. two by two, coming over the braes, and are quite willing to depose to said facts whenever asked, before the Paisley magistrates.”

They’re probably visible at the moment, as I assume this bit [*] refers to Woeful Economic Climate.

“Knock Firinn is called by the people of the country ‘Knock Dhoinn Firinne,‘ the mountain of Don of Truth. This mountain is very high, and may be seen for several miles round; and when people are desirous to know whether or not any day will rain, they look at the top of Knock Firinn, and if they see a vapour or mist there, they immediately conclude that rain will soon follow; believing that Donn of that mountain and his aerial assistants are collecting the clouds, and that he holds them there for some short time, to warn the people of the approaching rain. As the appearance of mist on the mountain in the morning is considered an infallible sign that that day will be rainy, Donn is called ‘Donn Firinne,‘ Donn of Truth.”

In ‘Fairy Legends and Traditions of the South of Ireland’ by Thomas Crofton Croker (1828).

I assume one of the stones here must be the owner of this story?

[referring to a stone at Skelmuir Hill:] Its position is accounted for in local tradition by its having fallen upon and crushed to death an old-time farmer who was digging below it in search of a bull’s hide full of gold. The same legend is told of two other monoliths in Aberdeenshire, one at Kildrummy and one at Binghill.

from ‘Report on the Stone Circles of the North-East of Scotland’ by Fred. R Coles, in PSAS 38 (1904).

In ‘Report on Stone Circles of the North-East of Scotland’ in PSAS v38 (1904) the author talks of this circle, but also mentions a stone elsewhere called the ‘White Cow of Crichie’ –

In the Buchan, this curious appellation is frequently given to great stones, presumably, as this one, of white quartz.

Are these the white cows? like the bovine equivalent of the ‘grey wethers’ of Wiltshire?

Nice story, Drew! It sounds like the stones have been moving/moved all over the place. Here’s a much more dull version – but it’s nice to see the stories are still there after 100 years.

Since making our investigations, we have ascertained* that many years ago there was a group of three stones, and that deserved ill-fortune befell the two farmers (whose lands were divided by the dike) for their wantonly removing them. These three stones stood in a triangle, and were probably the remains of a Circle.

*Through the good offices of friends at Longside whose relatives formerly lived near Skelmuir.

From PSAS v38, 1904: ‘Report on Stone Circles of the North-East of Scotland’ by Fred R Coles.

This is from Richard Gough’s additions to Camden’s ‘Britannia’ (volume 2):

[Thetford] was a seat of the kings of the East Angles. The Danes are generally supposed to have cast up the great hill [Thetford Castle] here about 865 when they wintered on it opposite to that on which king Edmund’s army lay, on the extremity of which are many tumuli (particularly one called the Tut hill) where were buried the slain in the battle between him and them.

Sounds like the Danes still feature in local folklore:

Tutt Hill, Suffolk.
The noises of fighting and a man screaming have been heard over the years. The fighting is said to date from the Viking attack on the town of Thetford which was successfully taken by them. As for the screaming man, tradition tells us that he was a Saxon traitor who betrayed Thetford to the Vikings and was rewarded for his efforts by being executed by his victorious ‘allies’.

‘They Still Serve: a complete guide to the military ghosts of Britain’ by R McKenzie (2008), viewable on Google Books.

People round here must be very fond of a tale – the variety and permutations are endless.

Some talked of the king’s palace and kitchen and well; and the imaginative Stukeley had a story of a road across the fields, ‘bearing very rank corn,’ which was known as ‘King Arthur’s Hunting-causeway.’ Here we see the warrior king turning into a shadowy creature like the wild huntsman of the German tales.

[...] A labourer, not long ago, told Mr. Bennett that the old bridle-path leading towards Glastonbury was King Arthur’s Lane, and that sometimes on rough winter nights he heard the king and his pack of hounds go by.

The rustics have other legends of a more interesting kind. They are convinced that the hill is hollow and teeming with fairy gold, though the latter belief may be only a reminiscence of the fine coins of Antoninus. [...] Mr Bennett told a story about a broken quern which had found near a hut site on the hill. A labourer said, ‘Now, Sir, I see what I could never make out afore; what it was the fairies wanted with carrying corn up here out of Foreside.’ ‘Why,’ said Mr. Bennett, ‘do the fairies bring corn up here?’ ‘Yes, Sir, we all know that; but I never could make out for why; but now I see, for here is their grindstone.‘

Ah those witty locals. In ‘Somerset: Highways, Byways, and Waterways. Edinburgh Review 181 (April 1895).

Thor’s cave has obtained a diversity of names. Dr. Plot calls it Thyrsis cavern, Thor’s house, Thurshole, and Hobhurst cave, some of which names appear to have originated with the inhabitants of the neighbourhood, who now call it Huzzes Tar, which according to traditions handed down from father to son, was formerly the retreat of a very mysterious being called Hobhurst.

[...] There is a small opening in the rock immediately below Thor’s Cave, which is known by the name of Radcliffe’s stable, from a person of that name having concealed his horse there when the Scotch rebels were making marauding excursions on marching through the country in 1745.

From Samuel Carrington’s ‘Account of the Excavations and Discoveries in Thor’s Cave, Wetton Dale...’ in Reliquary 6, April 1866.
I’m sure Stubob will know which is the latter cave, after his feats of mountaineering, and the likelihood of anyone being able to stable a horse in it.

“Thirst House” must strike the reader as a singular name for a cave, which, to ordinary frequenters, appears to be remarkably devoid of water. There is, however, a small spring in the valley below the entrance; and according to the lore of the country-side, Hob charms its waters on Good Friday, so that whoso quenches his thirst thereat -- with proper faith of course-- will be cured of any ailment he may be suffering from. It is obvious that this is merely a popular explanation of the name, the spring being too insignificant and distant for the name to have originated from it. The reference to Hob points to the solution.

Mr Salt [...] reports that a farmer in the district, occasionally finding small, old-fashioned tobacco-pipes when ploughing his fields, explained their presence by the tradition that Deep Dale was “a noted place for the fairies in the olden times”; and to give point to his explanation, he related how a workman, in crossing the valley one early morning, caught one of them and put it into his bag and took it part way home; but as it shrieked so pitifully he let it go, whereupon it ran back to the valley!

Hob-Hurst was a capricious elf, who, when in a good humour, made everything on the farm, particularly in the dairy, go smooth and prosperous; but when irritated made the cows go dry, the milk turn sour, the crocks smash, and generally infuse a spirit of contrariness in everything. A charm used in this district against his trickiness is given in an early volume of the Reliquary; it ran thus:--

“Churn, butter, churn!
Peter stands at our gate
Waiting for a butter-cake!
Churn, butter, churn!”

[...] The credit of the discovery of archaeological remains seems to be due to Mr. Millet, a young man of Buxton, who about ten years ago was attracted, in common with his school-fellow, to the cave, through a story of money hidden in it by an old miser who died suddenly.

From ‘Recent Cave Hunting in Derbyshire’ (part 2), in Reliquary April 1897.

Not strictly about Aveline’s Hole, but about another cave also in Burrington Combe:

[...the cave] locally known by the name of Goatchurch. Like all the other large caverns in the district, it has its legends. The dwellers in the neighbourhood, who have never cared to explore its recesses, will tell you that a certain dog, put in here, found its way out after many days at Wookey Hole, having lost all its hair in scrambling through the narrow passages. At Cheddar the same legend is appropriated to the Cheddar cave. At Wookey the dog is said to have travelled back to Cheddar.

‘Cave Hunting’ by W Boyd Dawkins, Macmillan’s Magazine, October 1870.

In 2003 some scratches were found in Goatchurch Cavern. You can see a photo at the fascinating Apotropaios website. It’s been suggested that they’re ‘ritual protection marks’ and an invocation to the Virgin Mary – maybe to do with the fact that the local caves were seen to be entrances to Unpleasantness and to be avoided.

An example of the imaginative descriptions you can spin to tourists, probably:

[The view] seems better than anything you saw before. Besides, it is historic ground; here the English fought their way up into the Danes’ stronghold. Villagers will show you ‘Guthrum’s kitchen’ and other of his haunts inside the still perfect rampart.

From ‘Good-bye to Wessex’ in ‘London Society’ magazine, April 1871.

Cheddar Cave [...] is lofty in parts, and full everywhere of fantastic incrustations -- turkeys hanging by the legs, a brown loaf, with the mark of the baker’s thumb, ropes of onions, organ pipes, cables, curtains (broad, transparent sheets), jelly glasses (reflected in a pool), and a stalactite and stalagmite separated now, as when the cave was first discovered, by just the space of one drop of water. This, Mr. Cox used to say, shows the slow growth of all these diverse petrifactions, the breaking off of one of which (he ominously hinted) had brought ruin on a thriving Taunton solicitor.

Mr Cox, we are told, discovered the cave in 1837 when he was breaking up the ground for potatoes. Running a show cave obviously became more lucrative. I thought it was interesting that he used the same kind of ‘harm to meddlers’ threat that accompany other stoney sites.

From ‘Good-bye to Wessex’ in ‘London Society’ magazine, April 1871.

According to a letter in Archaeologia Cambrensis (Oct. 1875), this stone was “traditionally said to mark the grave of ‘Gwydion ab Don’.” Gwydion ab Don (as Evans-Wentz tells us) was the king of the Tylwyth Teg – the fairies. Caer Gwydion (the Milky Way) is named after his castle, don’t you know.

The author of the letter and his friend Mr Wynn had a dig around the stone – they found the remnants of an urn and the cremation it held on the eastern side. Unimaginatively they put this down to the Romans.

More imaginatively, Mr Wynn rejected the idea that the stone marked Gwydion’s grave. But then attributed it to someone in the medieval ‘Englynion y Beddau’ (stanzas of the graves), to his friend’s dismay.