Rhiannon

W B Gerish’s frustratingly brief “Folk-lore of Hertfordshire” (1911) says ‘Huge black dog seen near “The Six Hills” and Whomerly Wood, also in avenue leading to church.

The Luton Paranormal website has more, which sadly makes it sound mundane.
https://www.lutonparanormal.com/hertfordshire/popups/stevenage.html

In 1910 W. B. Gerish, a local historian received a letter telling him of a local encounter with a massive black dog. The tale involved a gamekeeper who was heading home in the direction of Whomerley Wood after visiting a friend. As he passed a field gate which led onto a byway to The Avenue he saw the same black dog. The dog is said to have rushed passed him and through the closed gate heading in the direction of the Six Hills. The gamekeeper continued on his way but as he neared the woods the dog reappeared and seemed to be following him. He described the dog as having its nose to the ground and its tail bent back. The gamekeeper became very afraid so he turned round and headed back in the direction of his friends house.

But even so, it’s nice to think that a Black Dog could be associated with the two sites in the other folklore (below). The website also suggests the hills are haunted by a whole pack of Black Dogs. Now isn’t that just over-egging the pudding a bit. Don’t be greedy.

Found quoted in ‘History of the parish and manor of Wookey’ by Thomas Scott Holmes (1885).

William of Worcester visited this neghbourhood with Symon Simeon about the year 1470, and gives a description of [the river Axe...] The wonders of the cave at Wookey-hole seem to have especially struck him, his account of it being as follows:

Below the parish at Wookey-hole, about half a mile from Wells, there is a certain narrow entrance (into the rock) where at the beginning is an image of a man who goes by the name of the porter, and it is the duty of the people who desire to enter the hall of Woky to ask permission of the porter, and they carry in their hands torches, which are called in English ‘shevys of reed-sedge,’ for the purpose of lighting up the hall. The hall is about as large as Westminster Hall, and there hangs from the vaulted roof wonderful pendula of stone. The passage from the entrance to the hall is about half a furlong long, and is arched with stones of plane work hanging down from the roof. And there is a certain broad piece of water between the ‘tresance’ and the hall for the distance of five stepping stones, which stepping passage is about twenty feet wide, and if a man goes beyond the stepping stones he falls into the water, which is on all sides about five or six feet deep.

There is a kitchen in a chamber near the entance to the hall of immense breadth, and roofed in stone. There is also a chamber called an ost, for the purpose of drying barley grain to make beer, &c., and the figure of a woman is there clad, and holding in her girdle a spinning distaff.

And thence people pass on a hundred paces, and a man may go along it with dry feet over the stones. And then the chamber called the parlour follows, which is a round appartment built of huge rocks, about twenty paces broad, and in the northern part of the said parlour there is what is called in English a ‘holie-hole’, and in the said well, which is fairly arched over, there is abundance of the clearest water, the depth of which water no one is able to say. Moreover, from the said Woky-hole comes forth a great torrent, which runs into the mere, near Glastonbury, for the space of two miles.

It sounds like the tourist trade was doing well even then, even if the stone figures hadn’t been interpreted as witches. I’m not sure why he would be saying “in English” but that’s no doubt just my ignorance. Reverend Holmes insists that the locals call the hole from which the water flows ‘Wookey Hole Witch’, with witch / wych being a local word for a break in the rocks. But is this his reluctance to deal with unChristian goings-on? I dunno. I can’t see this use of the word in the OED. But then it’s not a dictionary of Somerset dialect.

In “Excavations at Carnac” by James Miln (1877) he describes some mounds (the ‘bossenno’ or Caesar’s Camp) to the east of Carnac, which seem to be the ruins of Roman houses. Interestingly, from page 16...

It happened one day when I was absent during the dinner hour of my workmen, that an English lady and her son came to see the diggings. The latter amused himself in working with a pick about that part of the construction in the room No. 1 which resembled a chimney, where he discovered a polished stone celt of a white colour, which he showed to his mother: neither of them, however, was aware of its value, and it was flung aside amongst the debris to be carted away. It was not until the following day, when I happened to show them the polished stone celts in the museum in Carnac, that they informed me of their discovery, and regretted that they had not known better. Exertions were made to recover the lost axe, but without success.

The discovery of a stone axe in what appeared to be a chimney was all the more interesting from its crrelation with a custom still observed at Carnac, that of building into the chimney of the dwelling-house a stone celt which is supposed to preserve the house from being struck by lightning. It is to be noted also that the name of the stone axe or celt in the Breton language is Mein-Gurunn, that is to say, the Thunder Stone.

Another legend connected with the island is a Romeo and Juliet-esque yarn, of a local girl and a Viking Prince. They got married and lived in a tower on the island. They were very happy but the prince’s Viking friends needed him back on the longboat. The couple hatched a plan involving black and white flags that would be displayed on his return to indicate whether they were dead or alive. When the prince sailed back he flew his white flag. But his princess had devised some daft method of testing his feelings, involving pretending to be dead. You can guess the rest. They’re supposed to be buried on the island.

Told at length in ‘Gairloch in North west Ross-shire’ by John Dixon (1886).

When you walk to the dun from the road, you may well go through a little dip in the ground called ‘Leabaidh na Ba Baine’ – the bed of the white cow. It’s said to have been scooped out by Fingal himself to provide a comfy spot where his white cow could calve.

Mentioned in ‘Gairloch in North-west Ross-shire’ by John Dixon (1886).

By the side of this Trackway, in the parish of Sulgrave, and seven miles and a half N.E. by E. from Banbury, is a Tumulus or Barrow still called Barrow Hill, the use of which as an exploratory mount may be correctly conceived from Morton’s description of it. Here, he says, “no fewer than nine counties do present themselves to one view, that is, the counties of Northampton, Warwick, Worcester, Oxford, Gloucester, Berks, Bucks, Bedford, and Hertford; and ‘tis thought that a part of Wiltshire or Hampshire is likewise to be seen from thence.“*

*Morton’s Northamp., 1712, p22

The base of this Tumulus is 25 yards by 19, and the summit 12 yards by 10. Upon it grows a great Ash tree, now going to decay, which is considered to be four centuries old.

There is a tradition respecting this mount and the Ash tree, that the spot was the scene of the revels of witches, and that when the Sulgrave people went to cut the tree down, they saw their village in the vale beneath apparently wrapped in flames, and therefore returned home. While they were absent from the tree on this false alarm, the witches made good the injury that had been done to the tree, and thus it was preserved.

p16 in ‘The History of Banbury’ by Alfred Beesley [1841?] (online at the Internet Archive).

Yet another rumour for the site:

At Enstone [...] is another Druidical remain, a ruined Cromlech, popularly called the “Hoarstone.” [...] There is a tradition that a city once existed near this spot, and the remains of wells have been found in the neighbouring fields.* An ancient trackway, marked in some old maps as the “London Road” (communicating with the country about Worcester and Hereford), runs westward from the Hoarstone, passing near several Tumuli which will be mentioned hereafter.

*Information from the Rev. E. Marshall of Enstone.

Page 8 in ‘The History of Banbury’ by Alfred Beesley [1841?] (online at the Internet Archive).

Moel yr Eglwys (“bare summit of the church”) is the highest point of Arenig Fawr. It’s crowned by a large prehistoric kerbed cairn, but according to Coflein, the stones from this have been incorporated into a modern memorial and shelter.

Or take the following, from J. H. Roberts’ essay, as given in Welsh in Edwards’ Cymru for 1897, p. 190: it reminds one of an ordinary fairy tale, but it is not quite like any other which I happen to know:--In the western end of the Arennig Fawr there is a cave: in fact there are several caves there, and some of them are very large too; but there is one to which the finger of tradition points as an ancient abode of the Tylwyth Teg. About two generations ago, the shepherds of that country used to be enchanted by one of them called Mary, who was remarkable for her beauty. Many an effort was made to catch her or to meet her face to face, but without success, as she was too quick on her feet. She used to show herself day after day, and she might be seen, with her little harp, climbing the bare slopes of the mountain. In misty weather when the days were longest in summer, the music she made used to be wafted by the breeze to the ears of the love-sick shepherds. Many a time had the boys of the Filltir Gerrig heard sweet singing when passing the cave in the full light of day, but they were subject to some spell, so that they never ventured to enter. But the shepherd of Boch y Rhaiadr had a better view of the fairies one Allhallows night (ryw noson Galangaeaf) when returning home from a merry-making at Amnodd. On the sward in front of the cave what should he see but scores of the Tylwyth Teg singing and dancing! He never saw another assembly in his life so fair, and great was the trouble he had to resist being drawn into their circles.

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

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.

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.