Rhiannon

These stones are the remains of five men who were cheeky enough to be digging their turnips on the Sabbath. Their leader was knocked over by the shock of being turned to stone: before the beginning of the last century you could see him lying there, but he’s since been righted.

(from Grinsell’s prehistoric folklore book, drawing on a book from 1919 which I haven’t yet tracked down. I wonder if the turnips got rather specifically incorporated because of the fame of turnips in the district – the Laing’s Improved Purple-Top, don’t you know.
books.google.co.uk/books?id=4CMaAAAAYAAJ&pg=RA2-PA7)

Janet and Colin Bord (in ‘Atlas of Magical Britain’) describe a man who follows walkers: he has a lantern and rattles a bag of gold coins.

From a horrifying letter from a W Parry to W Stukeley himself, just before Christmas 1742:
” I have, as hundreds have done before me, carried off a bit from the King, his Knights, and Soldiers, which I intend to send or keep for you.”

Notes and Queries from May 14th 1859 perhaps illuminates this odious habit further:
“My guide told me that it was daily diminishing in size, ” because people from Wales kept chipping off bits to keep the devil off,” and that he could remember it much larger. My guide was born half a mile off, at Long Compton, and had, he said, lived there “all his days.“”

People From Wales!! The cheeky bleeder!! It’s MILES away from Wales. Classic anti-Welsh sentiment if you ask me! Oops. Parry’s a Welsh name, isn’t it.. And the road going past the stones is a drovers’ road from Wales. Oh well.

And another example from ‘Folklore’ vol 6, no 1, p23- from yet another Welsh sounding traitor, Arthur J Evans.

Chips were taken from the King-stone “for luck,” and by soldiers “to be good for England in battle.” Betsy Hughes told me that her son, who had gone to India as a soldier, had taken a chip with him, “but it brought him no luck, for he died of typhus.” A man told me that he had been offered as much as a pound for a chip at Faringdon Fair; and the Welsh drovers, who used to trench the road with their cattle before the railway was made, used continually to be chipping off pieces, so that formerly the stone was much bigger than it is now. A man at Great Rollright gave me a chip that he had kept in his house for years.
Notwithstanding the prevalence of this practice there were many who held that to do an injury to the stones was fraught with danger. In Wales one of the most frequent punishments that falls upon those who thus transgress against the stones is the breaking down of the transgressor’s wagon, and this belief still survives at Rowldrich. A ploughman informed me that one day a man who was driving along the road from Banbury swore to a friend who was with him that he would carry off a chip of the King-stone “though his wheel locked.” He got down from his cart and chipped off a piece of the stone, but when he tried to drive on he found that one wheel was locked in such a way that nothing he could do would make it go round again.

Dragon Hill, the flat hillock below the white horse, is where St George (or King Jarge, as he might be known locally) uncharitably killed the Dragon. Where the mortally wounded dragon’s blood fell, it is said no plants will grow.

The name of this round barrow tends to suggest people thought there was treasure within it – or maybe they did actually find some. Whatever, these etymological speculations pale beside the following story, gathered by Grinsell from one of his many dusty tomes.

As you can see from a map, a path runs right by the tumulus. It’s said that on the night of Bisley Feast, two men from Chalford were returning home towards France Lynch. They were near the barrow when they spotted some people up ahead of them. Assuming they were some friends who’d also been to the festivities they hurried up to catch them. As they came closer they realised that the figures were men with no heads! As Grinsell quotes: “The consequent fright had an abiding effect on the men.”

As it well might.

Much more famous than “Ragged Jonathan”* is a perforated menhir about a mile to the east of Minchinhampton. It was formerly surrounded by the Common arable fields, to one of which it gave the name of “Longstone Field.” Once, when they were ploughing there with oxen, they yoked a good many together, and tried to pull the Longstone out of the ground, but “something” held it firm. [..] Further, “when the Longstone hears the clock strike twelve, it runs round the field,” as almost every child in the place will tell you. Within living memory, children with whooping-cough and rickets used to be put through one of the holes in the stone. Traditions of bloodshed also cling round the Longstone; some say that it marks the burial place of a Danish chief killed in a battle at “Woeful Danes’ Bottom,” about half a mile distant, where “the blood ran as high as the wheels of a cart,” and the victory was won by women who gave the Danes poisoned pancakes to eat. At the battle of “Woeful Danes’ Bottom,” which is much talked about, “the solders shot through the holes of the Longstone”; and all the tumuli or “tumps” in the neighbourhood are held to be “the soldiers’ graves.”

From: Cotswold Place-Lore and Customs, by J. B. Partridge, in Folklore, Vol. 23, No. 3. (Sep., 1912), pp. 332-342.

It’s also been said that a hellhound-style black dog has been seen in the stone’s vicinity. Not that you’ll probably see the black dog at midnight – bar its nasty red glowing eyes. In the ‘alternative approaches to folklore bibliography’ at
hoap.co.uk/aatf1.doc
it specifically mentions Woefuldane Bottom as the location of the spectral dog – this appears to be the road that the stone lies next to.

In ‘A history of the parishes of Minchinhampton and Avening’ by Arthur Twisden Playne (1915) it’s mentioned that the Danes marched in here via the Daneway and met the Saxons at Woefuldane bottom. The slaughter of the Danes was so great that ‘the blood came up over the fetlocks of the Saxon horses’. But then Playne ruins it all: “I am sorry to throw doubt on so picturesque a legend” – he says Daneway is from ‘Dene Way’ or valley way, and Woeful from ‘Wulfflaed’, a personal name.

The ‘Ragged Jonathan’ mentioned above is explained as follows (also in the Folklore article):

Two menhirs, “Cob Stone” and “Picked Stone,” were destroyed on or near Minchinhampton Common, about seventy years ago. Still standing is the curious “Ragged Jonathan” or “Holey Stone” about 5 ft. high, pitted all over with small regular cup-like depressions. It has been used at some time as a milestone; but one old inhabitant says he thinks it came from the Devil’s Churchyard, while another says that children used to be lifted over it to cure whooping-cough. I have also been told that the holes in the stone were made by Oliver Cromwell’s guns.

As the EH Schedule says:

“The failure of the workers on the artillery castle to topple this
standing stone for use in their structure demonstrates a respect for such
antiquities that has sometimes persisted in the folklore of recent
communities.

The stone’s survival is also considered to reflect its useful
siting as a navigational aid for seamen entering St Mary’s Pool, a role now superseded by the modern marker adjacent to the standing stone.”

From The Old Stones of Rollright and District by Paul Bennett & Tom Wilson (and gratuitously recopied from ‘Megalithic Mysteries’)

“It is said that the Goose stones are petrified Geese turned into stone for grazing Chastleton Common illicitly. Their owner or guardian, an old lady, used to drive them down Grey Goose Lane to graze. Despite being warned about this she continued the practice and the stones are all that are left of her geese. What happened to her is unknown; the stones however have been dragged away to adorn a local landowners garden.

All that remains are a few loose oolites scattered across the common, and a possible monolith. The location commands a good view of the valley to the north west of the site and is located close to Adlestrop hill site of several now overgrown and abused long barrows. ”

It’s said that when the horse hears the church clock in Bratton strike midnight, it goes down to the nearby Bridewell (’Briddle’) springs to have a nice long drink (these are at ST 892518, according to Katherine M Jordan in her ‘Haunted Landscape’ book).
But maybe Bratton’s church doesn’t have a clock.

Whilst reading ‘The Holy Wells of Somerset’ (D E Horne 1923), I spotted one called ‘St Sativola’s Well’ or St Sidwell, close to the barrow.
The field in which the barrow lies is Barrow Sidwells – a never failing spring is to be found within a stone’s throw westward of the tumulus. ‘Within living memory Stoke Courcy women used to bring their children to this well to be washed, if suffering fom any ailment of skin or eyes, and this healing reputation is still well known, even if the water is less sought after.‘

Saint Sidwell was martyred near Exeter in the 6th century. Apparently she’d come into some inherited land, and her evil stepmother wanted it. The latter bribed two harvesters to bump the poor girl off. As Ms-soon-to-be-St Sidwell knelt in prayer in the field, they sneaked up and decapitated her with a scythe. Where her head fell, a spring instantly sprung up. You can see her in Exeter Cathedral’s east window. (story in Reader’s Digest ‘Folklore Myths and Legends of Britain).

One story about the Wrekin and its smaller neighbour the Ercall is pretty much identical to that told about Cley Hill and little Cley Hill.

And the story involving giants also has its details: the Needle’s Eye is said to be where one of them split the rock with his spade during an argument with his friend. The eye has a story connected with it – if you pass through it you’ll see your true love.
The other giant’s pet raven leapt up and pecked at the first giant’s eyes – the tears formed Raven’s Bowl, a pool that is always full of water. The giant was imprisoned inside the Ercall – if you go up there at night you can hear him groaning.

(I have heard the Needle’s Eye story firsthand locally, and the latter tales are mentioned in the Bords’s Atlas of Magical Britain).

Someone’s pan-icky experiences at Danebury recounted at the Fortean Times website:

forteantimes.com/forum/showthread.php?s=&threadid=9310

According to Chris Barber in his ‘Mysterious Wales’ the hill the cairn sits on is also known as ‘Bryn-y-Saethau’ – or the Hill of the Arrows, maybe from the stone arrowheads that have been found on its slopes.
The cairn itself is rumoured to be the grave of Boudicca (surely a bit out of the way for a girl from Essex?) or perhaps the resting place of a Roman general. Barber relates a referenceless anecdote (as he likes to do) about a local man walking past in 1938 who saw a field full of Roman soldiers and on the Gop the ghost of a Roman general on a white horse, brandishing a sword. Then ‘a cloud passed over the moon and the apparition vanished’. Personally I think I might have done the vanishing first if it had happened to me. Why do ghosts appear at night I wonder. And was this man on his way home from a local hostelry. We can only speculate.

As hamish mentions, there is a story that Jack o’ Kent hurled the stones from the top of Ysgyrd Fawr in a competition with the devil – I just thought I’d point out that this is the Welsh name for the anglicised ‘Skirrid’ – which links with the idea above that the stones may be aligned on this mountain.

A modern version of a classic folklore theme:

(from Katy Jordan’s Haunted Landscape)

Brian Davison as the Inspector of Ancient Monuments at Stonehenge recounted how a team from the University of Bristol came to take samples of the bluestones. There was a lot of mock apprehensiveness, because there are many stories of storms brewing up from nowhere / bad luck following the tampering with of barrows and other ancient sites.

“We joked and said, ‘Well, you know, even if people don’t see us, the gods will see us and we’ll be struck down’. Well, we finished our work about 9 o’clock at night, and cleared away, and said, ‘Well there you are, it’s all superstition. Nothing’s happened. No thunderbolts. No claps of thunder.’ But that was October 1987. Six hours later we had the hurricane.”

There might be a number of stones around here (the area is awash in barrows and mounds) – I hope this map reference is helpful. This sarsen (or is it a deliberately placed stone?) is near to Luccombe Springs. Katy Jordan (in The Haunted Landscape) tells of a conversation she had with a local woman, Jean Morrison. Apparently if you hold your breath and run round the stone 9 times, backwards, the devil will appear. Brave Jean had tried it as a child but alas was unable to hold her breath for so long.

The round barrow in Ogbourne St Andrew churchyard was said to be avoided by children (in 1938*) as there was “a well-authenticated legend that it is the abode of venomous vipers”. Perhaps it had a resident snake population – or could the idea possibly relate to serpents and dragons being symbolic to Christians of the devil?
(*from the North Wilts Herald of Aug 19, 1938, and mentioned in volume 50 of the Wilts Arch journal.)

Some might also take significance from the statement that the church (or the barrow itself?) is said to be one of the ‘nodes’ on the Michael/Mary ley line (the undulating ley line being likened to a serpent y’know) – see Miller and Broadhurst’s account of following it across the country, ‘The Sun and the Serpent’. The lines..

..converged again in the churchyard at Ogbourne St Andrew.. There, a prehistoric mound was, along with the church, located within a circular raised bank. In the middle of the mound was [a] node. Trees swayed and tall wildflowers whispered gently in the breeze in another of those secret magical places that understate their true significance. Mary ran directly along the axis of the church into the mound and disappeared off across the Marlborough Downs..

Near the church is Poughcombe Farm – which presumably (this is purely my own speculation I hasten to add) derives from ‘Puck Combe’ – more links with supernatural weirdness..

Wistman’s Wood is the place where the Devil (known as Dewer or Old Crockern in these parts) kennels his Wisht hounds. On Midsummer’s night he takes them hunting across the moor. Some stories say this is to look for babies who have not been baptised. If you see him and his hounds I’m afraid it’s not a very good omen for you. Also, apparently no ordinary dog will ever enter the wood. But I have to say I did see one do this myself. Perhaps it was just foolhardy and never made it out the other side.

Wayland Wood is the traditional setting for the ‘Babes in the Wood’ story, by the way (“Wailing Wood” – you’re supposed to hear them wailing).

Two ‘classic’ megalithic stories are attached to the Hoar Stone barrow: that if anyone tries to drag the stones away, they will return of their own accord when no-one’s looking – and that the main stone (’the Old Soldier’) goes down to the village stream to drink on Midsummer’s Eve.
(mentioned in J Hawkes’ Shell Guide of British Archaeology)

The Tump is one of the Cotswolds’ largest round barrows, standing 9 ft high and about 100ft in diameter.

John Reynolds, in his (now defunct) website told how one of the Dukes of Beaufort had a witch buried alive in her house – and that’s what Nan Tow’s tump is. He added that perhaps the story originates from the (assumed?) discovery of a skeleton in a cist in the barrow. Traditionally the witch was supposed to have been buried ‘upright’. But the scheduled monument record on MAGIC suggests there’s no evidence of the barrow having been excavated.

Apparently the Hemlock Stone was a stone hurled by the Devil at Lenton Priory, but fell 4 miles short. He was standing on the hill above Castleton in Derbyshire at the time. That’s some throw even for the Devil. (see the ‘At the Edge’ webpage for more revolting detail).

According to ‘Rambles round Nottingham’ (v1, 1856), p224, the stone gets its name from the “tough green rag-stone or horneblend, called in the vernacular of the district ‘hemlock stone’.”

Also that (p225) “A sensible countryman, whom we encountered near the spot, when hard pressed to state the prevailing opinions regarding the Hemlock Stone, perseveringly declined to advance any but his own, which was, ‘that it had been left by Noah’s flood.’ There can really be no other supposition.”
It beats the usual ‘Druidic sacrifice’ explanations I guess.

In chapter 4 of JG Frazer’s “Golden Bough”, he mentions that:

On the Hemlock Stone, a natural pillar of sandstone standing on Stapleford Hill in Nottinghamshire, a fire used to be solemnly kindled every year on Beltane Eve. The custom seems to have survived down to the beginning of the nineteenth century; old people could remember and describe the ceremony long after it had fallen into desuetude.

Under an oak in Shebbear village square is a big conglomerate boulder. Every 5th of November, the bellringers lever up the stone and turn it over, then ring a peal of bells. Apparently the devil lives under the stone, and this stops him wreaking havoc for the next year. There is another stone about 750m north too but it doesn’t get a name.
The custom has nothing to do with increasing the trade in the nearby ‘Devil’s Stone Inn’.

Also it seems that the inn is haunted:
hauntedinns.co.uk/devil.htm
according to Craig Tennant~Smith. But whether that has anything to do with the influence of the stone, who can say...

You can’t really beat the King’s collar-stud holder anecdote for a good story connected with the Rillaton barrow ( the cup was claimed as Duchy Treasure Trove to William IV and remained in the royal household until King George V died – he kept it on his dressing table).

Leslie Grinsell visited the site and spoke to some boys who lived nearby – they said they knew the barrow as ‘King Arthur’s Grave’ (this from his 1936 ‘Ancient Burial Mounds of England).

The story about St Kieran has him turn the giants to stone when they don’t listen. Perhaps this is a bit of a joke, because the 6th century saint never left Ireland (from Burl’s Carnac to Callanish). Maybe this is a bit like the folklore motif of stones moving when they hear the church clock (stones can’t hear – or else the church doesn’t have a clock). Otherwise, a bit unfair as I’m sure his voice wasn’t loud enough for the giants to hear.

Burl mentions the site in his book about stone rows ‘From Carnac to Callanish’ – a man was playing leapfrog on a Sunday, and the devil turned him into stone by leapfrogging over him. You wouldn’t think the devil would care about Sunday leapfrogging.
Whatever, it is very unusual to find a stone row in this part of the country -or even a single stone, in amongst the brussels sprout fields. Burl is quoting Dyer’s Penguin book of Prehistoric England and Wales and doesn’t mention what clues there are to this having been part of a row, but I’d like to find out some more. Maybe the idea of the row has got more to do with the game and the legend than any archaeological remains? Also, the stone is near Marston Moretaine, which has an unusual church with the tower separate from the rest of the building: this is blamed on the devil too.

see the legend at the ‘Mysterious Britain’ site at
mysteriousbritain.co.uk/england/bedfordshire/bedfordshire2.html

The map from 1892 shows the nearby pub called the ‘Jumps Inn’.

This is a pretty big stone – 14 ft tall – but it only seems to be on the old Ordnance maps? Chris Barber’s 1986 book ‘More mysterious Wales’ has a photo, so surely it can’t have disappeared?

You may have been to Devil’s Bridge? Well the devil was collecting stone for this over on the top of Trichrug Mountain. He’d bit off a bit more than he could chew with this huge stone, so sat down for a bit of a rest. He’d been gripping it so hard that his fingers left marks in the stone (can you see them?). He was just drifting off into a nice nap when a cockerel patrolling the field spotted him, and sneaking up behind gave a deafening crow. The devil leapt to his feet in surprise and ran off, leaving the stone behind. Where you’ll (hopefully) find it today.

Llech Bron means ‘huge brown stone?‘

This doesn’t look a very comfortable place for a stone judging by the map. It’s hemmed in by the M4, the railway, a small road, and there’s an industrial estate across the way. But when it was thrown here by St Sampson (from Margam mountain) for reasons left unsaid by Barber in his ‘More mysterious Wales’ – well it was probably a nice spot, not far from the sea and the sand dunes, and the mountains to the north.

Worth checking out just for the situation? But don’t turn up before cockcrow on Christmas day or you won’t see it – the stone will have uprooted itself and be on its way down to the river for a drink. Grinsell (in ‘folklore of prehistoric sites in Britain’) specifically mentions the sea at Sker as its favoured drinking location. Sker House itself dates back to medieval times and is said to be very haunted. Perhaps that’s why the stone is drawn there. Or maybe it’s more prehistoric connections – you can see a mace found there at
walespast.com/article-print.shtml?id=15&image=3

By the way – if you go to see it move, try not to get in its way. Bad luck is supposed to fall on anyone who obstructs its path.* Not to mention the fact that you’ll get squashed, of course.

* Mentioned in the leaflet here: bridgend.gov.uk/Web1/groups/tourism/documents/marketing/002556.pdf

Another stone lies fairly near by , but it’s on the Roman ‘Water Street’ and maybe connected with that?

Perching above Rhisga (Risca) in Gwent, this Iron Age fort crowns the mountain. On the summit, locally known as ‘the pimple’ is an impressive mound – a barrow? Though some people think that it’s part of Norman defences. Whatever, this place has been a favourite spot for a long time, and people still come to look at the view, watch fireworks, dance at the Brecon free festival, and er morris dance.

I was reading Chris Barber’s ‘more mysterious wales’ in which he recounts a story which sounds like a modern version of your classic ‘storm following tampering’ story.

In June 1984 Terry Wilmot was helping to repair the erosion done by walkers and scramble bikes to the mound. He was busy constructing some wooden steps when a long swarm of bees appeared and flew around the heads of him and his team. They were forced to stop work for 20 minutes until the bees had left.
Later, on returning to their van, he found the door half covered with the swarm.

In Wirt Sikes’ book “British Goblins” of 1880, swarms of bees were supposed to be fairies in disguise. There are other stories of people ‘in the distant past’ being disturbed by swarms on Twmbarlum.

Of course, some people (terrible cynics who don’t believe in fairies) would say you’d expect to find bees swarming in June anyway.

Another story about the Wimblestone – from Gray Usher’s article ‘Spade and Plough’, as reported in Third Stone 25 by Phil Quinn.

On one of the Wimblestone’s midnight rambles it felt tired and lay down for a rest. In the darkness a farmer mistook it for a cow escaped from his field, and encouraging it to move, gave it an thwack with his stick. The stone was infuriated, and reared up and rolled at the terrified man. He was forced to run to Rowberrow churchyard – the stone couldn’t enter the consecrated ground and had to pace up and down outside the gate all night waiting for him to come out. In the end dawn broke, and ‘Wimble’ was forced to roll home unavenged.

information from Phil Quinn’s article in Third Stone 25:

Francis Knight, in his 1915 book ‘The Heart of Mendip’ tells how there was once a famous strongman in the region. The devil got fed up hearing of his exploits and decided to challenge him to a match of strength. The two contestants and all the local people gathered on Shute Shelve Hill. The devil hurled a huge stone with all his might down into the Vale of the Axe below. When the strongman’s turn came, his stone went much further, and landed just east of Lower Weare.

unfortunately his recounting of the story stops here, but I’d like to think the devil got very angry and disappeared in a puff of smoke.

whatever, it seems that the strongman’s stone was removed before Francis’s retelling, and its exact site is unclear. The devil’s stone still remains, in a pasture south of Bourton Lane in the hamlet of Cross. It is about 4ft high, and Quinn claims the shape of its top echos the shape of nearby Winscombe Hill (and Crook Peak?) – though you’ll have to go check that for yourself.

Browsing through an old copy of Third Stone I found Phil Quinn’s record of this 8ft standing stone.

He describes how John Strachey wrote in 1730 that the stone was called ‘Wooks Cait’ after the giant at Wookey Hole, further along the mendips. Quinn claims another stone to be nearby on the 1882 ordnance survey map (though I can’t see it on the 1887 copy) – ‘although this has since disappeared’.

If you want to visit the quoit, apparently the farmer at Yarberry farm in whose land it stands is happy to grant permission if you call in.

According to the information in the EH scheduled monument record, this stone is made of sandstone and stands about 2.5m high and is 1.5m wide. It is described as being rather weathered and having a crack down the middle that almost splits it in two.

There are some obvious hills in the vicinity – Crook Peak, Banwell Hill – but the stone was positioned down on the flat of the valley, on the floodplain not far from the waters of the Lox Yeo river.

Why, you may ask, is this stone leaning at such an angle? Well, it wasn’t placed here carefully, it was actually thrown from the top of nearby Pen y Gaer (a hillfort). A giant was up there, and he’d left his flock of sheep in the protection of his sheepdog. However, the dog had sneaked into the protection of a nearby cromlech (Cwt y Bugail) for a crafty nap – so the missile was thrown in an attempt to wake him up and put him back on the job.

(from Chris Barber’s More Mysterious Wales)

Known as Carreg Lefn (smooth stone) and Maen Pres (brass stone). If you trace its shadow at a certain time of day, and dig inside its outline on the earth, you should find some treasure buried in a brass container. If this proves difficult, if you can find the inscription allegedly on this 12ft megalith, and read it out, the stone will obligingly step aside to reveal some treasure.

(from C Barber’s More Mysterious Wales)

This hill fort overlooking the sea contains ‘Bwrdd Arthur’ – Arthur’s Table. If you search you can find a large circular stone with 24 ‘seats’ around. The geologically-minded might interpret this as part of a limestone pavement.

The 3 leaps are three stones in a field next to the georgian mansion called Plas Gwyn. They were placed there in remembrance of a competition between two men for the hand in marriage of St Geraint’s grand=daughter, supposedly in the 6th century. By adopting a triple-jump style approach, Hywel ap Gwalchmai was able to beat his opponent and get his girl.

(can’t remember where I read this – possibly in LV Grinsell’s collection, ‘Folklore of Prehistoric Sites in Britain’ 1976.)

Paul Devereux reported this modern story in issue 153 of the Fortean Times:

“Paula C climbed to the top of the ancient mound. From that height she saw a group of hooded figures walking briskly across an adjacent field towards the monument. She couldn’t see their lower limbs and assumed they were walking through tall grass. The hooded and apparently robed figures never seemed to get any closer despite their energetic gait. Concerned that they were about to be disturbed by strangers, Paula climbed down to where her family waited. When no newcomers appeared, she returned to the top of the mound. No one was in sight, but the field looked different – there were fewer trees around it, the path was in a slightly different location, and what had seemed to be a deep dip in the ground was barely apparent. ”

I don’t want to be a killjoy but whilst we were at the site there were a lot of hikers passing on the nearby footpath (the Cotswold Way). A surprising amount of them didn’t come over to look at the mound – so you thought ‘oh god, all those people will be here in a minute’ but after a while they never turned up, having quietly gone round a different way. But don’t let me put you off the story.

The “Whispering Knights” are traitors who, when the King with his army hard by were about to engage with the enemy, withdrew themselves privily apart, and were plotting treason together, when they were turned into stone by the Witch. Some, however, say that they are at prayer. I was told that once upon a time the big flat stone (the capstone) was taken away to make a bridge across the brook at Little Rollright. It took a score of horses to drag it down the hill, for at first it would not move, and they had to strain and strain to get it along till every bit of the harness was broken. At last they got it to the brook by Rollright Farm, and with great difficulty laid it across to serve as a bridge. Butevery night the stone turned over back again and was found in the morning lying on the grass. So when this had happened three nights running they saw that the stone must be taken back to whence it came. This time they set a single horse to it, and the single horse took it up the hill quite easily, though it had taken twenty times that number to drag it down, and that they could hardly doWith regard to this tale, I found generally the most absolute belief among the country people, one man going so far as to say that there were those now living who had spoken to men who had helped to bring the stone down and up again, and “that it was done in Farmer Baker’s day, who was not so very long dead.”

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

The Whispering Knights join the King Stone for a drink every night – see
themodernantiquarian.com/post/38780

The King Stone is in front of a long mound – the mound that stopped the king seeing Long Compton in the legend. Stukeley called the mound the ‘Archdruid’s Barrow’ but it’s probably natural. He said “near the archdruid’s barrow by that called the King Stone is a square plot, oblong, formed on the turf. Hither, on a certain day in the year, the young men and maidens customarily meet and make merry with cakes and ale.” (from Stukeley’s ‘Abury’).

By the way you’d better believe the folklore: Stukeley said “this story the country people for some miles round are very fond of, and take it very ill if anyone doubts of it: nay, they are in danger of being stoned for their unbelief.”

I suspect quite a few people have got stoned at the Rollrights, but that’s another story.

Lunchtime might be the best time to visit – apparently the stones dance everyday at noon.* They’re also known as the 17 brothers. That’s some discrepancy (especially as they are also known as the nine maidens – they were turned to stone for dancing on the sabbath) – I suppose nine is a rather special number (three times three), and maybe seventeen, as a prime number, also has its weirdness.

(partly from Grinsell’s ‘folklore of prehistoric sites in Britain’)

*This is mentioned in Notes and Queries 61 from 1850.
gutenberg.org/files/16404/16404-h/16404-h.htm#page513

The 8ft+ stone leans because a farmer supposedly tried digging under it for its fabled treasure – but a thunderstorm started up (as they so often do in these situations) and struck the stone. The farmer understandably left in a hurry.
[I’m not sure where i read this].

Also:

This [stone] was visited, in 1706, by Edward Lhuyd, who found upon it an inscription which he read, TEFROVTI; but there are no letters upon the stone at present. The upper part of the stone has been split, and the inscribed part either destroyed or taken away. This act of Vandalism is attributed by the farmers of the locality to a stone mason named Shon Morgan, who went in a fit of drunkenness to “try the quality of the stone.” It is nine feet high and eighteen inches in thickness.

From ‘Archaeologia Cambrensis’ ser 3. v8, 1862, p134 (readable on Google Books).

Apparently the name comes from the Gaelic “Achadh na Cloiche” which means “Field of the Stones”?

Barclodiad y Gawres (the Giantess’s Apronful) is the largest of the chambered tombs of Wales. Some of the stones inside are decorated with amazing spirals, chevrons and lozenges, pecked out with stone tools, very similar to the ones you can see in the Boyne valley in Ireland (like Newgrange). To add to the site’s mystery, in addition to the expected burnt human bones found in the side chambers, the central space showed evidence of having had a fire in it, and then a ‘stew’ poured over it before being covered with pebbles and limpet shells. Who knows, perhaps the spilt stew was just the result of it being chucked on the floor in disgust at the taste: analysis of the bones in it supposedly turned up wrasse, whiting, eel, frog, toad, natterjack, grass snake, mouse and hare. Mmm, tasty. Sounds like a magic potion to me.

The megalithic walks site suggests you can get a key, assuming the place is still locked :
“To get one go to the village of Llanfaelog and find The Wayside shop, where for a £5 deposit you can get one. It is worth phoning to check they are open, they were on Sunday, the number is 01407 810153.”

A fabled cave lies in the cliffs below the tomb, connected with King Arthur. Arthur was supposed to be battling with the Irish, so to get his treasure out of harm’s way he stashed it a mile underground in Ogof Arthur. It’s said to be still there – but you’ll have to wait for an extremely low tide to glimpse the entrance to the cave.

If this is what the giantess was carrying in her apron, then you’ll have to go to Y Ddeufaen to see what the giant had been carrying (according to Grinsell’s source in ‘folklore of prehistoric sites in Britain’).

Arbor Low is also known as ‘the stonehenge of the north/Peak District’ but I don’t think much of this – you never hear people call stonehenge ‘the Arbor Low of the south’.

Reading the Fortean Times website, I came across a post by ‘Marion’:

In the very early seventies I lived in the village of Stogursey , about two miles from the Hinkley Point nuclear reactor , I was only five but I still remember the absolute certaintly of the villagers young and old alike that the station had been built on a ‘fairy’s house’ and the fairies were still well pi**ed with the whole affair ! Several people had died during the building of the reactor – proof that the villagers were right ! There was a serious accident one night when a turbine shaft sheared off and went through a twelve foot ( or whatever ) thick wall , this was because a protective statue of a fairy had been moved or removed ! This statue was also said to move on its own and no one wanted to work on site at night. There was also an impression that more went on but people wouldn’t talk about it. And everyone was deadly serious about it too, it wasn’t a joke to them.

Sir James Y Simpson (the first surgeon to use chloroform) was apparently also interested in rock art. In the 1864/66 volume of the Proc. Soc. Antiquaries of Scotland Simpson wrote an article about cups and rings on stones in Scotland.
This extract is from that article, but quoted indirectly from
geocities.com/newtonwinchell/scot.pdf
which is an article by Kevin L Callahan on ethnographic analogy and the folklore of cup and ring rock art.

(on the naming of Achnabreck)
..The rock upon which the first and largest collection of concentric rings and cups at Auchnabreach is placed has a Gaelic name, which, according to John Kerr, an old shepherd brought up on the farm, is ‘leachd-nan-sleagher’ – the rock of the spears. Mr Henry D Graham, to whom I am much indebted for drawings of the Auchnabreach sculptures and others, believes the word to be ‘leach-nan-sluagh’ – the rock of the hosts or gatherings. The rev. Mr M’Bride has perhaps more happily suggested it to be ‘leachd-nan-slochd’ – rock of the pits or impressions. The rock itself, let me add, is in a position which commands a charming view of the waters of Loch Gilp and Loch Fyne, with the distant and magnificent hills of Arran as a gigantic background...

er. hope that clears that up then.

The Devil’s Arrows are made of millstone grit, which suggests they might have been shifted from over a mile away near Knaresborough, across the River Ure, although it is possible they were found more locally, having been brought by glaciation. Then again, perhaps the traditional story is true: the devil stood on Howe Hill (near Fountains Abbey) to throw the stones at Aldborough. He shouted:
“Borobrigg keep out o’ way,
For Aldborough town
I will ding down!”
As usual he messed up and the stones fell harmlessly short of their mark. You can still raise the devil using them though – if you walk round them at midnight 12 times (widdershins of course). I also read that the grooves on the stones were from his attempts to hang his grandmother. Ah, I didn’t know the devil had a grandmother. She must have been a tough old bird because there are a lot of grooves on these huge megaliths.

Aldborough is the modern town where the Roman Isurium Brigantium used to stand, the civilian capital of Brigantium. On the unlikely webpage of ‘Britannia: America’s gateway to the British Isles’ I found the following alternative story:

“The King of the Brigantian Celts, to weigh the merits of the Druids’ lore against the newly-come teaching of the Christians, bade that both should be debated before him. At first the new faith made ground, until a late arrival among the Druids turned the tide by his strong personality and his ridicule. But a movement of his cloak showed that his feet were melting the rock he stood on, and sinking into it. Discovered, he rose into the air in a smother of curses. He moulded into bolts the masses of half-molten rock which clung to his legs and flew towards Iseur, the capital city, intending to destroy it. But the bolts were miraculously intercepted, and fell harmlessly to earth. ”

A different interpretation of the stones comes from the modern leyline/earth energy fold, which suggests that the needle like shape of the Arrows was chosen deliberately because of how it can influence or control the movement of energy through the land.

Moel Ty Uchaf (highest house on the bare hill? feel free to disagree) sits on the slopes of Cader Berwyn. In 1974 this mountain was the scene of a UFO ‘incident’. A unknown light had been seen moving low over the area at night for a number of months. In January white lights were seen up in the mountains; some said they saw streaks of light across the sky, accompanied by a loud explosion (registering 4/5 on the Richter scale). The army cordoned off roads. UFO or army plane?? Or earthlights?

The earnest Paul Devereux reports that a geiger counter used at Moel ty Uchaf gave anomalously high readings. But am I right in thinking that granite might well be in this area – even used for the stones? and granite is naturally radioactive? Mr Devereux also (with his typical manner of relating anecdote as containing deeply significant information) recounts an encounter with a walker at the site who explained the skylarks hovered overhead ‘because of the ultrasound’. I didn’t even realise skylarks had a particular interest in ultrasound – I thought they just liked hovering :)

There are rectangular cists at the site, which Clwyd-Powys Archaeological Trust says may be Iron Age or even medieaval.

Cornish hurling is a bit of a frightening game. It’s only played at St Ives and St Columb now. The hurling ball weighs about a pound, and is made of an orange-sized piece of applewood coated with silver. Two teams, the town and the country, battle to get to their goals, which are about two miles apart. The St Ives version takes place in February on Feast Monday (the day after the nearest Sunday to the 3rd) and at St Columb it’s on Shrove Tuesday and the next week’s Saturda. There would be forty to sixty men a side and as you can imagine things might get pretty rough.

St Cleer spotted a group of people playing the game one Sunday, on his way to prayer. He demanded they should come with him, but they weren’t up for it. Rather meanly he decided to turn them into an example for people who insisted on messing about on the Sabbath, and now you can see the players turned into stone.

Like many other circles, these stones have the reputation of being uncountable. Dr James Yonge the Plymouth surgeon, writing in 1675, said ‘They are now easily numbered, but the people have a story that they never could, till a man took many penny loaffes, and laying one on each hurler, did compute by the remainder what number they were.’ (quoted in J Westwood’s ‘Albion).

So that’s how you do it.

In the village itself is the 15th century-housed St Cleer holy well. Apparently there was also a bowssening pool here (a total immersion pool) which was used to cure the insane.