Rhiannon

The Gouch or Gouk Stone is a large shapeless block of granite, on the north-east of Caskieben, erected (as is said in the last Statistical Account,) to commemorate the death of a general of that name who was slain near it. The tradition in respect to this stone is now forgotten, and it was even with some little difficulty that its site could be ascertained.

The Quaich* Stone, built into a low wall near the same place, has no particular marks by which it might be distinguished, and the origin of its name is entirely unknown.

From p122/123 of the New Statistical Account of Scotland, v12, (Aberdeen), 1845. Online at Google Books.
(*A ‘quaich’ seems to be a two-handled Scottish drinking vessel, fwiw.)

Now, a 1961 visit found the stone at NJ 8375 1307, and the RCAHMS record says: “Standing isolated in a field is a large, almost triangular shaped stone. It is 1.5m tall, 1.5m wide and 0.9m thick, it bears no markings.”

But now the plot thickens. This is all a bit confusing. I feel justified in adding it because it’s mentioned as a standing stone on the current OS map. Yet the RCAHMS record claims it’s not there at all now, and neither is the wall it was near (nor the other stone mentioned, one assumes – but at least this suggests we’re in the right place).

Also, they give their suspicions it was a rubbing stone for cattle, saying is not actually depicted on either the 1st or 2nd edition of the OS 6-inch maps (1869 or 1901) and “was probably erected.. in comparatively modern times.”

But. The original Statistical Account is talking about it in the 1790s, and it’s still there in the 1840s. Ok that’s “comparatively modern times” – but why would it have a name? In fact, why would two stones (one in a wall??) get names. You don’t give names to rubbing stones you put up two minutes ago, surely. RCAHMS usually take the Statistical Accounts into er, account. But they haven’t in this case, which is unusual and this is surely the same location.

I even wonder if it’s still there. After all, it tried to evade capture in 1845 – perhaps it was just off somewhere when someone turned up last time, as some stones are apt to do. Maybe I’m wrong and hopelessly misled. Maybe it was a cattle rubbing stone that is long gone. But it’s still interesting.

11/09
I think this is in the wrong place, because Caskieben = Keith Hall, at Inverurie. Yet it is mentioned in the chapter about Dyce. Oh I am confused.

‘Hitherto Undescribed Cup- and Ring- Marked Stones.’ Fred R Coles. Proc Soc Antiq Scot 37 (1902-03)
On page 228 and 229 is a description of the “Witches’ Stone” at Tormain Hill. I have added a copy of the diagram. The stone has 22 cupmarks in a dog-legged line across 9ft of stone, and a 23rd at a distance just where the kink in the line is. More about it on p143+ of volume 10 (1872-4).

Tiompan tells me this stone is sadly no longer with us, having been willfully destroyed by some philistine (see forums). It’s said to have been used in ‘fertility rituals’ with young ladies* sliding down it.
*i.e. the Witches! and their shocking behaviour.

Having used the word ‘dog-legged’ I synchronicitously found Charles Fort reporting that the holes are said to be ‘the tracks of dogs’ feet’ (maybe that’s why – they don’t really look like tracks of a four-footed animal). His ‘Book of the Damned’ cites the Proc Soc Antiq Scot “2-4-79” but I have not read the original.

It is worthy of notice, that the Gipsies were known so early as the reign of king Stephen, when they presented the same phenomena as they do now, and even passed by the same name. William of Newburgh, in recording the events of that monarch’s reign, makes mention of the Gipsies; which he describes as rising at intervals of some years, and forming, when they did rise, a considerable torrent. And he observes, that it was a good omen when they were dry, for their flowing was deemed a sure prognostication of an approaching famine.

p32 of ‘A Geological Survey of the Yorkshire Coast’ by George Young (1828). There’s lots of information about the course of the Gipseys here, and you can read it online at Google Books.

Well Winter Hill is the ‘source’ of this folklore.

Perhaps we could not do better than take as our guide that eminent local antiquarian Dorning Rasbotham.

“Sept. 12th, 1787, I went this day to visit a remarkable stone, and took with me the landlord of the alehouse at Moorgate (Horwich) as my guide. In this excursion, after having the Winter Lads some time on our left, we proceeded over Winter Hill in which situation was about sout-west or north by south. The stone lies upon the declivity of a hill in the township of Turton. It goes by the name of the Hanging, or Giant’s Stone.

The tradition of the common people is, that it was thrown by a certain giant upon a certain occasion (the nature of which they do not specify) from Winter Hill on the opposite range to this point, and they whimsically fancy that certain little hollows in the stone are the impressions made by the giant’s hands at the time he threw it; but I own I could not find out the resemblance which was noticed to me. It appears, however, to have long excited attention, for that it is a heavy, gray, moor stone; a rude mark of a cross, that about 7 inches by 6 inches, appears at a very distant time to have been cut upon it. It is elevated upon another piece of rock, and its greatest length is 14 feet, its depth in the thickest part 5 feet, and its greatest breadth upon the top, which is nearly flat, is about 9 feet. The height of the highest part of it from the ground is about 5 feet 8 inches. A thorough going antiquary would call this a Druidical remain.

Quoted in ‘Horwich: its history, legends and church’ by Thomas Hampson (1883).

‘Certain little hollows’ might sound like cup-marks. But rock art with folklore? Let’s not get overexcited.

Here’s the story of the stone:

There are many traditional ballads and stories relating to Benachie and Noth. There is a ballad called “John O’Benachie;” and another, “John O’Rhynie, or Jock O’Noth;” and they do not appear in any collection of ancient ballads I have seen.

It is said that long “before King Robert rang,” two giants inhabited these mountains, and are supposed to be the respective heroes of the two ballads. These sons of Anak appear to have lived on pretty friendly terms, and to have enjoyed a social crack together, each at his own residence, although distant some ten or twelve miles.

These worthies had another amusement, that of throwing stones at each other; not small pebbles you may believe, but large boulders. On one occasion, however, there appears to have been a coolness between them; for one morning, as he of Noth was returning from a foraging excursion in the district of Buchan, his friend of Benachie, not relishing what he considered an intrusion on his legitimate beat, took up a large stone and threw it at him as he was passing.

Noth, on hearing it rebounding, coolly turned round; and putting himself in a posture of defence, received the ponderous mass on the sole of his foot: and I believe that the stone, with a deeply indented foot-mark on it, is, like the bricks in Jack Cade’s chimney, “alive at this day to testify.“*

From p286 of Notes and Queries (no204, Sept 24th, 1853).

*this is a quote from Henry the Sixth pt II, act IV, scene II. Jack Cade was an actual rebel against the king in 1450 (regrettably this ended with his head on a pike). A curiously megalithic connection is that he struck the London Stone with his sword to proclaim himself mayor of London.

No messing about here with your fate, unlike in Charles Dickens’ story.

The common people about Stone-henge entertain a notion, that no one could ever count the number of the stones, as they now stand; and that, should any one succeed in this attempt, instant death would be the consequence of his temerity.

From p35 of ‘A Tour Through the South of England, Wales, and Part of Ireland, Made During the Summer of 1791’ by Edward Daniel Clarke (now online at Google Books).

Aptly, Edward’s servant saw that Stonehenge would have entailed a lot of work for someone: “For my part, I am a little of our valet Jeremy’s opinion, who exclaimed upon the first view of this place, that “It must have been a tedious great waggon, to bring such stones over Salisbury Plains!” Every idea one forms of Stone-henge, is faint, except those we receive upon the spot, in the contemplation of its awful charms and stupendous features.”

According to Coflein, this fort perches 60m above the sea, with double banks and ditches protecting the land side. Traces of 21 possible roundhouses have been found inside. It was landscaped as part of the grounds of the mansion mentioned below.

.. occupying a romantic situation on a rocky promontory called Twryn y Witch (or the Witch’s Nose).. [was] the Castle of Dundrivan (Castle of the Three Halls) where, according to tradition, Caradoc formerly kept his summer court.

If we may give credit to another story, a more recent possessor of Dunraven Castle [a 1700s mansion destroyed in the 1960s], Vaughan by name, was in the habit of alluring vessels to the coast by putting out false lights, that he might profit by the wrecks driven ashore, to which he was entitled as lord of the manor. In the very midst of his crimes, however, he lost his own three sons in one day, and, looking on this event as a judgement from heaven on his iniquities, he sold the estate to the family of Wyndham.

Some curious caverns are worn by the sea in the rock beneath the castle. Through one of them, called the Wind Hole, the sea is forced at times in lofty jets.

From p36 of
A Handbook for Travellers in South Wales and Its Borders, Including the River Wye, by John Murray (1860), online at Google Books.

The OS map shows (a platform of?) rocks on the beach called the ‘Dancing Stones’ but I can’t find any mention of this interesting name.

In Castleton there is an ancient lead-mine which in county histories and other books is described as “Odin Mine.” But old lead-miners in Castleton and Bradwell speak of it as Owdane Mine, accenting the second syllable. A Castleton man said to me that this mine “formerly belonged to the Danes,” and an old Bradwell lead-miner said that “the Danes hid themselves in it,” afterwards remarking, “We’ve mixed with the Danes.” I think there can be no doubt that the true name of this mine, in which many ancient tools have been found, is Owd Dane (Old Dane) Mine, for prehistoric and Roman work is often in this country attributed to the Danes... The usual name for ancient lead-workings in the Peak is “owd mon workings*.”

*Might this not suggest the devil? Which takes us back to Odin really. It’s all muddled up, as Mr McG suggests below.

From p404 in
Garland Day at Castleton
S. O. Addy; Frank Kidson
Folklore, Vol. 12, No. 4. (Dec., 1901), pp. 394-430.

Mr Donal O’Fotharta, who printed some West Connacht traditions about the Cailleach, says,-

“There is no place or height you may get to in Ireland, where you will not hear talk of the Cailleach Bheara. It is an old proverb amongst the Connacht people that there are three long ages;- “The age of the yew, the age of the eagle, and the age of the Cailleach Bheara”; and as to the Cailleach’s ways, they say thus:-

“She never brought mud from this puddle to the other puddle.
She never ate food but when she became hungry.
She never went to sleep till she grew sleepy.
She never threw out the dirty water till she brought in clean water.”

All good advice there recorded in Siamsa an Gheimhridh, D. O’Fotharta (1892), p116-118. (and quoted in the Folklore article mentioned below).

The Lament of the Hag (or Nun) of Beare.

I am the Hag of Beare,
An ever-new smock I used to wear;
Today – such is my mean estate –
I wear not even a cast-off smock.

The maidens rejoice
When May-day comes to them;
For me sorrow is meeter*,
I am wretched, I am an old hag.

Amen! woe is me!
Every acorn has to drop.
After feasting by shining candles
To be in the gloom of a prayer-house!

I had my day with kings,
Drinking mead and wine;
Today I drink whey-water
Among shrivelled old hags.

The flood-wave
And the second ebbtide-
They have all reached me,
So that I know them well.

There is scarce a little place today
That I can recognise;
What was on flood
Is all on ebb.

This is just the first part of a tenth century Irish poem, translated in 1913 by Dr Kuno Meyer. Perhaps we should get Simon Armitage (after his Gawain and the Green Knight) on the case for a modern version?

I found it quoted on p227 of
Legends and Traditions of the Cailleach Bheara or Old Woman (Hag) of Beare
Eleanor Hull
Folklore, Vol. 38, No. 3. (Sep. 30, 1927), pp. 225-254.

(*sic. can’t find what this means? meat as in what sustains her (or not)? or it meets her? hmm.)

[..] I was brought up to believe that the famous Cley Hill on the confines of Wiltshire was made by the inhabitants of that county who were induced to wipe their shoes before venturing upon our more favoured soil [i.e. Somerset.]

From a letter from Katharine Asquith at the Manor House in Mells, in The Times, Tuesday, Feb 09, 1960; pg. 11.

(At the risk of infuriating Kentigern of course, with its blatant fibbery).

GILSLAND.

“In Cumberland there is a spring,
And strange it is to tell,
That many a fortune it will make,
If never a drop they sell.”

The above prophetic rhymes are popularly understood to allude to Gilsland Spa, respecting which there is a very curious tradition, viz.., that on the medicinal virtues being first discovered, the person who owned the land, not resting satisfied, as would appear, with his profits which the influx of strangers to the place had caused, built a house over the spring, with the intention of selling the waters. But his avarice was punished in a very singular manner, for no sooner had he completed his house than the spring dried up, and continued so till the house was pulled down when lo! another miracle, it flowed again as before. Whether true or false, this story of antiquity enforces a most beautiful moral and religious precept. – Clarke’s Survey of the Lakes.

Similar to the anti-interference stories about some standing stones?

From p43 of Legendary Lore of the Holy Wells of England Including Rivers, Lakes, Fountains and Springs (1893) By Robert Charles Hope. Online at antipope.org/feorag/wells/.

(I have just looked at ‘Survey of the Lakes’ – but I haven’t found the quote yet. It was published in 1789).

Judging by an old map, there were a few wells in the vicinity of Skirsgill (the house) which would be a mere step away from the stone. Though which one might be referred to here I don’t know. The site is right next to the river, just like Mayburgh (but now on the other side of the motorway).

PENRITH WELLS.

..Penrith was once noted, and has some fame still, for the number of its wells. The whole month of May was set apart for special observance of customs and ceremonies to be performed on each Sunday. There were four wells with a Sunday allocated for honouring each well. The Fontinalia opened at Skirsgill on the first Sunday; then in order Clifton, afterwards the well at the Giant’s Caves, supposed to be St. Ninian’s; and, lastly, at Dicky Bank, on the fellside, where the festivities were concluded.

From p42 of ‘Legendary Lore of the Holy Wells of England Including Rivers, Lakes, Fountains and Springs’, by Robert Charles Hope (1893). online at antipope.org/feorag/wells/

.. the Banbury Stone [is] also known as the elephant stone because of its shape when viewed from one side.. [it] has been described as a sacrificial stone for Druids or as a Roman altar, but in reality is a natural outcrop. Locals believed that to kiss the stone on Good Friday would bring bad luck.. [The Stone is] situated inside the hillfort, the outstanding feature of the hilltop.

p135 in A Year of Walks in the Cotswolds By Roy Woodcock (1998).

Not about Yeavering Bell, but a cairn / crag on its southern side*. It’s a story that seems to be found all over Britain.

South of the Bell half a mile is a cairn called Tam Tallon’s Grave. A packman was hanged here, by his pack falling on one side of the stone, over his neck, while his body remained on the other.

p247 in ‘Annals and Antiquities of Dryburgh and Other Places on the Tweed’, by Sir David Erskine (2nd ed. 1836). Online at Google Books.

*see Hob’s comment.

In the village of Churchdown, about four miles from Gloucester, the church dedicated to St. Bartholomew is built on the summit of Churchdown Hill, – the ascent to it being steep and tortuous. The legend runs, that “the church was begun to be built on a more convenient and accessible spot of ground, but that the materials used in the day were constantly taken away in the night and carried to the top of the hill, which was considered a supernatural intimation that the church whould be built there.“*

*Rudder’s “History of Gloucestershire” (1779), 339.

From Church-lore Gleanings By Thomas Firminger Thiselton Dyer (what a name), 1891, p3. (partially online at Google Books).

Arthur Cleveland was there and he “descried a hamlet, and a Church, which my friend pointed out to me as Chozen, at the same time informing me that it was spelt Churchdown.” (Impressions of England, 2nd ed, 1856, p160) He calls it one of those quaint English things where you speak and spell a word differently. But is it just referring to the legend about the church? Or is it all tied up together. The local school is called ‘Chosen Hill School’ so people must still refer to it as that.

So it must also be the site of this snippet from
archive.worcesternews.co.uk/2001/10/26/300903.html
from ‘Folklore of Gloucestershire’ by Roy Palmer (1994):
“For the ghoulish or fey minded, the key chapter is the aptly named, Out of this World. We hear of a Churchdown man who, early in the last century, saw headless fairies on Chosen Hill.”

Aren’t fairies on their own hard enough to believe? Why not tell your friends you saw headless fairies instead.

..on the north side of [Skipwith or Riccal] Common are many tumuli, known in the locality by the name of the Danes’ Hills. That the peasantry of the surrounding district know the mournful origin of these “soldiers’ sepulchres” is clear, from the fact of their readily telling you that “they say” pieces of red cloth have been foud in the neighbourhood of the tombs.

Tradition says also that at the time those graves were made, a swampy drain or bog, now called Riccal Towdyke, was choked up with slain. That tradition has evidently descended from the same source that the chroniclers obtained their information from, viz. the surviving spectators.

A Dr Burton opened some of the barrows and found, apparently, the bones of some young men with ‘very firm and fresh’ teeth(!), one with his head cut off and between his knees. “Ever since the aforesaid battle, it is by tradition to this day said, that the Danes were permitted to encamp here till they had buried their dead, and their ships at Riccal should be ready for their re-embarking for Norway.”

From p218 of August 1863’s edition of the Gentleman’s Magazine and Historical Review. Online at Google Books.

According to the record on Magic, these are actually Iron Age barrows, called Square Barrows.

In the park of Belmont, there is a tumulus called “Belliduff,” which tradition gives as the spot where McDuff slew Macbeth; and about a mile distant, stands a large whinstone nodule, or block of twenty tons weight, called Macbeth’s stone. In all probability there has been fighting near these apparently sepulchral monuments; but it is more probable that Macbeth was slain at Lumphanan in the Mearns.

From p234 of ‘The New Statistical Account of Scotland’ v10 (Perth) 1845.

So sue me. I admit it, this is Roman. But it’s so rare to find a Roman round barrow. And the record on Magic says “It has been suggested that they are the graves of native British aristocrats who chose to perpetuate aspects of Iron Age burial practice.” This one (being in East Anglia) might be as early as the first decades of the Roman occupation. It’s like an example of ‘when in Rome’ behaviour (or old habits die hard, if you want another phrase).

The following is from the Gentleman’s Magazine for June 1840, p114.

In reading an account of Essex, I find the following: “The Borough, or rather Barrow Hills, on the north side of the Black Water Bay, were considerable in number. These tumuli are supposed to have been raised indiscriminately over the bodies of the Danes and Saxons that fell in the battles occasioned by the frequent landing of the former in this part of the coast*. The lands on which the Barrow hills stood were completely inclosed from the sea in 1807, and the whole are now levelled, ONE EXCEPTED.”

This Barrow I heard was going to be cleared away for manure. I made a point of visiting it under an idea that it might be proved a Roman one; ==when I arrived at the spot, I found it to be a bowl barrow, about fourteen yards diameter, and about six or seven feet high, and rather more than half of it cut away, and what surprises me, not a single urn, bone, or ashes, nor any mark to be found; -- perhaps the barrows being mostly under water during the tide may account for the disappearance of bones, &c. if there were any placed; = or rather that the Danes and Saxons were not so careful as the Romans in preserving the remains of their friends.

I met one of the old inhabitants who lived in the parish more than forty years; he remembered the number of barrows being destroyed, and said, not a single bone or urn was ever found in them.

J. A. Repton reports.

Perhaps this barrow isn’t the exact one mentioned (can the sea have come in this far? I suppose it’s more than possible). But it’s certainly one of those being talked of in this area.

*this sounds like a local explanation? and one so convincing that Mr Repton seems to abandon his own theory about the barrows being Roman.

Could ‘Scratchbury’ come from ‘Old Scratch’ – the Devil? I mean he was about the area, having made Cley Hill, so it’s not inconceivable he might have sat here.

The Oxford English Dictionary has an example of this euphemism’s use from 1740 – but its older forerunner ‘scrat’ and other similar words mean all kinds of gobliny devilish things in Old Norse and German.

A curious legend connects the Five Saints with a large block of sandstone at Cynwyl Gaio called Carreg Pumpsaint. It stands upright at the foot of the hill below the Ogofau, the old Roman gold mines, and is shaped like a basalt column, with large artificial oval basin-shape hollows on its sides. It is three and a half feet high and a little over two feet in width.

The legend says that, time out of mind, there lived in the neighbourhood five saints who had a wide reputation for sanctity, and were objects of ill-will to a wicked magician who dwelt in caverns near. He had in vain tried to bring them into his power, until one day they happened to be crossing the Ogofau, and he, by his wicked enchantments, raised a terrific storm of thunder, lightning and hail, which beat upon and bruised the saints, and they laid their heads against a large boulder standing near for shelter. So great was the force of the hail that the impression of their heads can be seen to this day upon the four sides of the stone.

The enchanter transported the saints into his caverns (the Ogofau) where they sleep. Tradition says they will awake, and come back to the light of day, when King Arthur returns, or when the Diocese is blessed with a truly pious and apostolic prelate!

According to another version they were five young pilgrims on their way to the shrine of S. David, who, exhausted with fatique, reposed on this pillow their weary heads which a violent storm of rain and hailstones affixed to the stone. A malignant sorcerer appeared and carried them off to his cavern, where they are destined to remain asleep until the happy day mentioned.

The block, supposed to have on it the impression of the five heads on each of its four sides, has been extracted from the mine, and was originally horizontal. The hollows are actually mortars in which the quartz was crushed for gold.

This excerpt is from p226 from ‘The Lives of the British Saints’ by Sabine Baring-Gould (I think he got these stories from Arch Camb 1878 pp322-3).

So maybe it’s not even a legit subject for TMA. But it’s got some familiar themes that are attached to older stones. And it even seems to have its own new explanation (can the ‘gold mortar’ thing really be true?)

According to ‘The Old Stones of the Cotswolds and the Forest of Dean’ by Danny Sullivan (1999), the Twizzle Stone is at this grid reference. It’s ages since I’ve seen the book so can’t describe it further – the stone is not on Magic and (seemingly mistakenly) I always assumed this and the Tingle Stone were one and the same – similar names I guess.

Mr Grinsell is describing stone that turn round, when he says “We may perhaps also compare the Twizzle Stone in the Cotswolds, which, I would suggest, may have twizzled round when it heard the cock crow.” Ah the world of speculative folklore, I love it.

Tom Graves has a more concrete story. He is talking about different bands of alternately ‘charged’ areas on certain standing stones and other sites.

The [bands from the fourth up] connect up with other energies, or networks of energies, above ground; and in the case of the fifth and seventh bands, this connection, as far as many dowsers are concerned, produces some interesting side-effects.

The effect of the fifth band on the dowser may have given a standing stone in Gloucestershire its name: the Twizzle Stone. When a dowser leans against the level of the fifth band on a stone or buttress, the band somehow affects the dowser’s balance, producing an effect which feels like a slow and gentle push to one side or the other.

According to the skill of the dowser (and, it must be admitted, more subjective factors like a sense of showmanship), this sense of ‘being pushed’ can be increased until it looks as if the dowser has been thrown to one side by the stone.

Well if you can find it maybe you can check for me.

Tom Graves describes a modern day ‘retribution’ story:

.. in the case of some barrows a thunderstorm followed within hours or minutes of the opening of the barrow. The same coicidence still occurs from time to time, as happened when a barrow on Parliament Hill in north London was opened recently; and I’ve heard that it is apparently a respectable piece of professional lore amongst present-day archaeologists. What is not respectable is to suggest that there might be a causal link between the breaching of the barrow and the thunderstorm that followed.

He goes on to suggest that the effect could be ‘exactly like short-circuiting some kind of ‘thunderstorm capacitor’. From p86 of his book on dowsing, ‘Needles of Stone Revisited’ (1986), which is actually free to download here:
tomgraves.eu/needles

The beginning of this story is apparently much sillier than the version already posted would hint at. Monty Python style silly. Unfortunately after that it just gets nasty.

A sanguinary encounter once took place between the Maclaurins of Auchleskin and the Buchanans of Leny, arising out of the following circumstance:

At the fair of St. Kessaig held in Kilmahog, in the parish of Callander, one of the Buchanans struck a Maclaurin of weak intellect, on the cheek, with a salmon which he was carrying, and knocked off his bonnet. The latter said he would not dare to repeat the blow at next St. George’s fair at Balquhidder.

To that fair the Buchanans went in a strong body, and on their appearance the half witted Maclaurin.. told of what had occurred.. The warning cross was immediately sent through the clan, and every man able to bear arms hastened to the muster.

In their impatience the Maclaurins began the battle before all their force had collected, and were driven from the field, but one of them, seeing his son cut down, turned furiously upon the Buchanans, shouting the war-cry of his tribe (“Craig Tuirc*,” the rock of the boar), and his clansmen rallying, became fired with the miri-cath, or madness of battle, rushed after him, fighting desperately.

The Buchanans were slain in great numbers.. [the story carries on as below..]

From p36 of The Scottish Nation, By William Anderson (1863).

*actually says Craig Tuire. But they mean Craig Tuirc.

Be careful about the amount of cash you leave: “The popular belief still retains memory of this wild legend.. It was believed that Wayland Smith’s fee was sixpence, and that, unlike other workmen, he was offended if more was offered.”

From p219 of ‘Introductions and notes and illustrations to the novels..’ by Walter Scott. Vol 2, 1833.

This sounds reminiscent of hobs and fairies, who are also unimpressed by the wrong type of payment, and will stop being helpful after such mannerless behaviour.

A slightly different version of the ‘cup’ tale, and a few new points:

The legend [as told by William of Newburgh] existed early in the twelfth century, or more than seven hundred years ago. I learnt, during my visit to the spot, that it still exists, though in a debased form.

The peasantry now tell us that, one winter’s night, a farmer returning from market heard, much to his astonishment, sounds of mirth and revelry proceed from Willey-hou, whereupon he rode up to the hill to ascertain the cause of this extraordinary occurence. As he approached, a little dapper man presented himself, with a cup of welcome.

The farmer, supposing it to be silver, drank the contents, and setting spurs to his horse rode off with the treasure; but on his arrival at home, to his great disappointment, he found that it was nothing but base metal.

[he then describes the ‘treasure’ story below, with the rhyme being
“Hep Joan! prow Mark!
Whether God will or no,
We’ll have this ark.“]

.. The peasantry assure you further, that if any one run nine times round the tumulus without stopping, and then put his ear against it, he will distinctly hear the fairies dancing and singing in the interior.

The old superstitious feeling relating to the spot seems, indeed, to exist almost as strong amongst the peasantry of the present day as it did ages ago; our proceedings [they were digging the barrow, but got distracted by some more exciting stuff that was going on in Scarborough, so abandoned the project] excited general alarm among the lower classes, who expected to see some manifestation of vengeance on the part of the beings believed to hold the guard of the tumuls; and few would have ventured out in its neighbourhood after dark.

From ‘On some ancient barrows or tumuli recently opened in East Yorkshire’ – chapter 2 in ‘Essays on Archaeological Subjects’ by Thomas Wright, v1, 1861.

[There is] a well dedicated to St. Euinus, about sixty yards from the church of Redruth, at the foot of Carn Brea hill; and within the recollection of persons now living a stone cross stood near it. The peculiar virtue ascribed to this well was that whoever should be baptized by its water would be preserved from being ignominiously hanged.

p74 in Ancient Crosses, and Other Antiquities in the East of Cornwall By John Thomas Blight (1858). (readable online at Google Books). This is also known as St Euny’s Well, and is at SW690413.

In Willingham field, on the edge of the fen, about half of a circular entrenchment remains, which, when entire, contained about six acres; it consists of a high vallum and a ditch, and is situated near the end of Aldreth causeway, leading across the fens towards Ely: this entrenchment s known by the name of Belsar’s hills, and is supposed to have been thrown up by William the Conqueror, when he beseiged the isle of Ely; it seems, nevertheless, more probable, from the resemblance it bears to the two works already noticed, of Vandlebury and Arbury, that it was originally a British work, afterwards occupied by the Conqueror, who probably threw up some additional works: it must at all times have been a very important station, as commanding the pass into the isle of Ely.

This source’s phrasing seems to suggest a local story, rather than just an academic theory? From p74 of Magna Brittanica, by David Lysons, 1808 (vol2, pt1, Cambridgeshire). Online at Google Books.

The story of the seige is dramatised in Kingsley’s 1865 ‘Hereward the Wake’, as it was Hereward (and others) that resisted the Normans’ move into Ely. Belasius, one of William’s knights, is able to capture the city by bribing some of the monks to show him a safe route across the marshes. Hereward escapes to fight another day.

It appears.. from the ancient and authentic records, that during the time St. Elwitus led the life of a hermit at Llanhamelach, the mare that used to carry his provisions to him was covered by a stag, and produced an animal of wonderful speed, resembling a horse before and a stag behind.

Was this a deliberate intervention by St Illtyd, who felt his groceries weren’t getting delivered fast enough? This is from the Itinerary of Archbishop Baldwin through Wales, by Giraldus Cambrensis, which was written after their journey in 1188.

It’s in chapter 2 and you can read it online at V Wales
vwales.co.uk/ebooks/itinerary.htm

Almedha the martyr, twenty-third daughter of Brychan Brecheiniog, unfortunately

“suffered martyrdom upon a hill near Brecon, called Pen-ginger. This hill is now generally known by the name of Slwch, though part of it still retains its old appelation. Pen-ginger is a corruption of Pen cefn y Gaer, i.e., the summit of the ridge of the fortification, from an old British camp, the remains of which are still visible.

Not far from the camp stood the monastic house, which Giraldus Cambrensis calls a stately edifice, where Almedha is supposed to have officiated as principle, or lady abbess. It is now completely ruinated, and can only be traced by tradition to a spot where a heap of stones and an aged yew tree, with a wall at its root, marks its site.

.. [according to a Dr. Owen Pughe,] “The day of her solemnity is celebrated every year on the first day of August.“* He then proceeds to record the miracles of the saint, and the faith and religious frenzy of her votaries; upon which his annotator is a little waggish, and hints that they might now and then have taken a cup too much.

p21-22 of ‘The Heroines of Welsh History’ by Thomas Jeffery Llewelyn Prichard (1854), now online at Google Books.

*eagle eyes will notice this is Lughnasadh or Lammas.

This are Giraldus Cambrensis’s words, from his Itinerary:

There are many churches in Wales distinguished by their names [the names of St Breinioch’s children], one of which, situated on the summit of a hill, near Brecheinoc, and not far from the castle of Aberhodni, is called the church of St. Almedda, after the name of the holy virgin, who, refusing there the hand of an earthly spouse, married the Eternal King, and triumphed in a happy martyrdom; to whose honour a solemn feast is annually held in the beginning of August, and attended by a large concourse of people from a considerable distance, when those persons who labour under various diseases, through the merits of the Blessed Virgin, received their wished-for health.

The circumstances which occur at every anniversary appear to me remarkable. You may see men or girls, now in the church, now in the churchyard, now in the dance, which is led round the churchyard with a song, on a sudden falling on the ground as in a trance, then jumping up as in a frenzy, and representing with their hands and feet, before the people, whatever work they have unlawfully done on feast days; you may see one man put his hand to the plough, and another, as it were, goad on the oxen, mitigating their sense of labour, by the usual rude song: one man imitating the profession of a shoemaker; another, that of a tanner. Now you may see a girl with a distaff, drawing out the thread, and winding it again on the spindle; another walking, and arranging the threads for the web; another, as it were, throwing the shuttle, and seeming to weave.

On being brought into the church, and led up to the altar with their oblations, you will be astonished to see them suddenly awakened, and coming to themselves. Thus, by the divine mercy, which rejoices in the conversion, not in the death, of sinners, many persons from the conviction of their senses, are on these feast days corrected and mended.

Online at the excellent ‘Vision of Britain’ website. Giraldus wrote this after his tour through Wales in 1188.

visionofbritain.org.uk/text/chap_page.jsp?t_id=Cambrensis_Tour&c_id=4

Francis Grose’s 1787 book “The Antiquities of England and Wales” mentions that “near Denchworth is Cherbury castle, a fortress of Canute.”

I found that this story is connected with the Pusey Horn, an object which is now in the Victoria and Albert museum. collections.vam.ac.uk/item/O132646/the-pusey-horn-oil-painting-unknown/

The Danish Canute was King of England about a thousand years ago. He and his army were camping near to Pusey, at Cherbury. The Saxon army was not far away, and a local man ran to warn Canute. For the tip-off he was given this horn, and all the land that it could be heard from – it paid off because Canute’s army won the ensuing battle.