In the old Hundred of West Derby in what was once Lancashire (them there political types shifting boundaries for their own greasy deeds) still remains to this day the trickling remains of old Oswald’s sacred spring, close to the Hermitage Green, which is thought to have gained its named after just such a hermit living hereby and who, no doubt, frequented or looked after this holy well for both refreshment and spiritual sustenance.
Named after the once-pagan King of Northumbria — who was later patronized and regressed to the cultus of a saint — the well was said to be close to an ancient palace, which was later moved when the King regressed into christendom. The well itself was said to have been created through the tradition that the very Earth here possessed healing powers so renowned that people came from many miles to collect and take it for its sacred and medicinal qualities. In Henry Taylor’s (1906) magnum opus he told:
“A writer in The Antiquary twenty years ago (vol.3, p.261) described it as having a very modest appearance for so famous a spot, looking merely like a hole into the hillside. The writer goes on to say, “Passing through a small cottage garden, a well-trodden path leads to the well, which is merely a fosse, as described by Bede, and, situated as it is at the bottom of a tolerable declivity, derives its supply from the drainage of the upper ground rather than from any spring. The water is not very bright, but the well is substantially walled inside, and two or three deeply worn steps lead to the water.”
“The Venerable Bede gives an account of numerous miracles which took place at St. Oswald’s Well. He says: “After which period Oswald was killed in a great battle by the same Pagan nation and Pagan King of the Mercians who had slain his predecessor Edwin at a place called in the English tongue Maserfield in the 38th year of his age on the 5th day of the month of August. How great his faith was towards God, and how remarkable his devotion, has been made evident by miracles since his death; for in the place where he was killed by the pagans…infirm men and cattle are healed to this day. Whereupon many took up the very dust of the place where his body fell, and putting it into water did much good with it to their friends who were sick. This custom came so much into use, that the earth being carried away by degrees, there remained a hole as deep as the height of a man… Many miracles are said to have been wrought in that place, or with the earth carried from thence; but we have thought it sufficient to mention two, which we heard from our ancestors.””
References:
Taylor, Henry, The Ancient Crosses and Holy Wells of Lancashire, Sherratt & Hughes: Manchester 1906.
The original stone monolith that stood here has long since been destroyed (by christians arguing amongst themselves) and the ornate edifice that we see today was erected in 1859 to commemorate the marriage of Queen Victoria’s eldest daughter, Victoria Adelaide Mary Louisa, to Friedrich Wilhelm of Prussia. Standing more than 52 feet tall, it is of a neo-Gothic design and is one of the tallest crosses in the country. Originally there were going to be six carved statues cut into the niches of the cross, but this was later reduced to three.
First mentioned in place-name records from 1478, the original stone cross was itself very prominent, rising some 20 feet tall and sitting upon a square base of eight steps. It was described by John Leland in his Itinerary when he visited the town sometime between 1535 and 1545, who said:
“At the west part of the street…is a large area, having a goodly cross with many degrees (steps) about it. In this area is kept every Thursday a very celebrated market.”
The old cross was also a site where public notices and proclamations were dispensed to local people and seems to have been an old meeting place. Whether it had a prehistoric predecessor isn’t known.
Folklore
The nursery rhyme we’ve all recited when we were kids and growing-up, has much of its origins around this ornate edifice and in the 20th century was thought to have its origins in pre-christian practices hereby, but this is questionable. The rhyme, to those who don’t know it, goes:
Ride a cock-horse to Banbury Cross,
To see a fine lady upon a white horse,
With rings on her fingers and bells on her toes,
She shall have music wherever she goes.
As Kirsten Ayles (1973) told:
“This rhyme was first recorded in 1784, but it probably originated much earlier. The Banbury Cross mentioned was destroyed at the turn of the 16th century by the Puritan inhabitants of Banbury. It has been suggested that “bells on her toes” points to the fifteenth century, when a bell was worn on the long tapering shoe of each shoe. It has (also) been thought that the “fine lady” was Queen Elizabeth I, or Lady Godiva.”
Another option identifying the “fine lady” in the rhyme is perhaps a member of the Fiennes family, ancestors of Lord Saye and Sele who owns nearby Broughton Castle.
References:
Ayles, Kirsten, “A Short History of Nursery Rhymes,” in This England, 6:3, Autumn 1973.
Gelling, Margaret, The Place-Names of Oxfordshire (2 volumes), Cambridge University Press 1954.
Vallance, Aymer, Old Crosses and Lychgates, Batsford: London 1920.
Acknowledgements:
To Ronald Goodearl, for use of his 1973 photograph of the Banbury Cross.
Cross (destroyed): OS Grid Reference – c. SD 881 353
Archaeology & History
Not included in the magnum opus of Henry Taylor (1906), the exact position of this long lost site remains unknown, as even the investigative abilities of Clifford Byrne couldn’t track it down! It was erected in a region full of pre-christian remains and (at the time) living remnants of heathen folklore and practices between Worsthorne and Nelson. Mr Byrne (1974) described his search for the place, saying:
“This cross is of ancient origin and no part of it now remains as far as can be ascertained by investigation, although the memory of it certainly remains, for an elderly gentleman living in the cottages of Holt Hill, Briercliffe, said instantly on being asked about he cross that he had often heard it referred to by older people when he was a boy, although he could not say exactly where in the hamlet the monolith had stood. We are told that the cross is mentioned in a document in the year 1313 when Robert Briercliffe granted away the Sene intacks in the Holt Hill as it lay by Annot Cross on the south side. This implies that it stood on the south side of the road (between) Thursden and Haggate, which is an old road from Burnley to Halifax…”
This would give a rough grid reference for its position around SD 881 353, but nothing appears to be there. However, Byrne told of another intriguing bitta folklore a short distance away which may have had some relevance to the positioning of the cross.
“Down the road to Lane Bottoms, behind some bungalows, is a stone shaft in a depression in a meadow which we are told is an ancient standing stone. Whether this is so is not easy to ascertain for the stone has apparently been used as a gatepost at some time, and further gives indication of having been utilised as a cattle rubbing post.”
Below here we find the old place-name ‘Burwains,’ which clearly indicate a site of a prehistoric burial, though nothing remains of such a place — officially at least. Perhaps a couple of ventures in and around this area need to be done! One final note that Byrne made related to the title of this lost cross, saying:
“The name “Annot” may be of Saxon origin, for the Saxon word annet means solitude, and this would have certainly fitted the area in ages past.”
References:
Byrne, Clifford, A Survey of the Ancient Wayside Crosses in North-East Lancashire, unpublished report 1974.
Taylor, Henry, The Ancient Crosses and Holy Wells of Lancashire, Sherratt & Hughes: Manchester 1906.
From the village of Midgley, high above the A646 Halifax-to-Todmorden road, travel west along the moorland road until you reach the sharp-ish bend in the road, with steep wooded waterfall to your left and the track up to the disused quarry of Foster Clough. Go up the Foster Clough track for 100 yards and, when you reach the gate in front of you, go over it but follow the line of the straight walling uphill by the stream-side (instead of following the path up the quarries) all the way to the top. Here you’ll see the boundary stone of Churn Milk Joan.
Archaeology & History
The present large standing stone you see before you isn’t prehistoric. However, the small broken piece on the ground by its side may have been its prehistoric predecessor; and there is certainly something of an archaic nature here — albeit a contentious one — as we find old cup-markings cut into its eastern face.
Two ‘cup-marks’ on eastern face
The upright is roughly squared and faces the cardinal points. It was described in Mr Heginbottom’s (1977) unpublished survey on Calderdale rock art, where he described there being a few cup-markings inscribed on its east- and south-facing edges, some of which may be prehistoric — though they would obviously have had to have been carved upon the upright stone when it still lay earth-fast. However, we must posit the the notion (unless some of you have better ideas) that the tradition of etching cup-marks onto rocks was still occurring in this part of Yorkshire until the late Middle Ages, as this stone was, as we know from boundary records, only placed upright to mark the meeting of the three boundaries of Wadsworth, Hebden Royd and Sowerby.
Churn Milk Joan’s other name, Saville’s Low, originates from the great Saville family who owned great tracts of land across the region in the fourteenth century, possibly when the Churn Milk Joan we see today was created. The word “lowe” may derive from the old word meaning, “moot or gathering place,” which this great stone probably served as due to its siting at the junction of the three townships.*
Folklore
In modern times the stone has become a focus for a number of local pagans and New Agers who visit and ‘use’ the site in their respective ways at certain times of the day, albeit estranged (ego-bound) from the original mythic nature of the site.
The name of the stone comes from an old legend about a milk-maid named Joan who, whilst carrying milk across the moors between Luddenden and Pecket Well, got caught in a blizzard and froze to death. When her body was found many days later, the stone we see here today was erected to commemorate the spot where she died. Although such a scenario is quite likely on these hills, as Andy Roberts (1992) said,
“Considering the sheer amount of sites with similar legends this explanation is unlikely to be true and we should looker deeper for the meaning behind Churn Milk Joan, to be found in its positioning in the landscape and ourindividual feelings about it.” [see profiles for the Two Lads and the Lad o’ Crow Hill sites)
The monolith’s other title, Churnmilk Peg, is the name given to an old hag who is said to be the guardian of nut thickets. How this female sprite came to find her abode upon these high hills is somewhat of an enigma, but it was first stated as such in an article by Andy Roberts (1989) in “Northern Earth Mysteries” magazine. E.M. Wright (1913) noted this supernatural creature in her work on folk dialect, describing it as a West Yorkshire elemental who, along with another one known as Melsh Dick:
“are wood-demons supposed to protect soft, unripe nuts from being gathered by naughty children, the former being wont to beguile her leisure by smoking a pipe.”
Another legend of the stone tells how it is said to spin round three times on New Year’s Eve when it hears the sound of the midnight bells at St. Michael’s church (St. Michael was a dragon-slayer) at Mytholmroyd in the valley below. Another piece of folklore tells that coins used to be left in a small hollow at the very top of the stone which, according to Haslem (1981), was “a gift to the spirit world, to bring luck” – a common folk motif. It may equally originate from the custom of it as a plague stone. This tradition of leaving coins atop of the stone is still perpetuated by some local folk.
Mr Haslem also made some interesting remarks about the nature of Churn Milk Joan standing as a boundary stone, representing something which stands not just as a physical boundary, but as a boundary point between this and the Other- or spirit world. In folklore, streams and rivers commonly carry this theme. But here on Midgley Moor, as a standing stone at the junction of three boundaries, we may be looking at the place as an omphalos: a centre point from which the manifold worlds unfold. (see Almscliffe Crags, the Ashlar Chair and the Hitching Stone)
The other motif here, of milk and snow [both white], have been speculated to represent power of the sun at midwinter, and geomantically we find the position of the stone in the landscape exemplifying this: it stands midway in the moorland scenery facing south, the direction of solar power, yet is bounded as an equinox marker from east and west. The winter tales it has nestled around it are merely complementary occult augurs of its more wholesome elements at this point in the hills.
There is however, another much more potent element that has not been conveyed about the site and its folklore—and one which has more authenticity and primary animistic quality. Regardless of ‘Joan’ or ‘Peg’ being the elemental preserved in the landscape title, the ‘churning’ in its name and the ‘spinning’ of the stone in myth at the end of one year and the start of the next at New Year, are folk memories of traditional creation myths that speak of the cyclical seasons endlessly perpetuated year after year after year, in what Mircea Eliade (1954) called the ‘myth of the eternal return.’ As season follows season in the folk myths of our ancestors, everything related to the natural world: a world inhabited (as it still is) by feelings and intuitions learned from an endless daily encounter, outdoors, with the streams, hills, gales, snow and fires. Their entire cosmology, as with aboriginal people the world over, saw the cycles of the year as integral parts of their daily lives. Here, at Churn Milk Joan with its central landscape position along an ancient boundary, the churning and turning of the year was commemorated and mythologized year after year after year; with maybe even the Milky Way being part of the ‘milk’ in its title, from which, in the shamanistic worlds that were integral to earlier society, the gods themselves emerged and came down to Earth.
References:
Bennett, Paul, The Old Stones of Elmet, Capall Bann: Milverton 2001.
Eliade, Mircea, The Myth of the Eternal Return, Bollingen 1954.
Haslem, Michael, “Churn Milk Joan: A Boundary Stone on Midgley Moor,” in Wood and Water, 1:8, 1980.
Heginbottom, J.A., “The Prehistoric Rock Art of Upper Calderdale and the Surrounding Area,” Yorkshire Archaeology Society 1977.
Ogden, J.H., “A Moorland Township: Wadsworth in Ancient Times,” Proceedings of the Halifax Antiquarian Society, 1904.
Robert, Andy, “Our Last Meeting,” in NEM 37, 1989.
Robert, Andy, Ghosts and Legends of Yorkshire, Jarrold: Sheffield 1992.
Wright, Elizabeth Mary, Rustic Speech and Folk-Lore, Oxford University Press 1913.
* The great stone at the cente of the Great Skirtful of Stones, Burley Moor, which previously stood at the centre of the Grubstones Circle, was just such a moot stone. Upon it is carved the words “This is Rumble’s Lawe”.
From Laneshaw Bridge, near Colne, take the long country road that goes up above Wycoller to Stanbury and Haworth over the Yorkshire-Lancashire border. A couple of miles uphill, there’s a parking spot with views across the moors. Stop here. Cross the road and walk up for about 100 yards, going thru the rickety gate on the left, and up the field (past the small disused quarry) until you see the large rock looming ahead of you, perched on its own. That’s it!
Archaeology & History
Herders Cross stone
This is a really curious spot to me. A large singular boulder sat on the edge of an uninhabited moorland with no real history of heathenism, nor religious practices; yet someone at sometime in the not-too-distant past saw something here that made them cut a large square hollow into the top of this stone, in which they stuck an old cross. We came across this site a few weeks ago quite by accident, but realised that the deep hollow in the rock was an old cross base; so when I got home I checked Taylor’s (1906) magnum opus, expecting to find some info therein. But even Taylor seemed to know nothing of this place.
A week or two later, Paul Hornby pointed me in the direction of an unpublished essay by a local chap called Clifford Byrne (1974) who’d studied some of the early christian remains in the region and who wrote the following of what he named “Herders Cross”:
“This cross, or more properly its socket, is probably one of the least known in the area. It was shown to the writer by Mr Stanley Cookson of Trawden, who discovered the socket in passing, so to speak. On the road to Haworth from Laneshawbridge, opposite the site of Foster’s Leap rocks, on the east side of the road, is a really huge boulder on the moor top. In the south side is the cross socket, whilst on the north side of the rock can be made out a right-angled mark which implies that either the socket was being placed on that side in the first instance, or that two sockets were once envisaged…
“Old maps show the rock in situ with a “shaft” protruding from the top. Some yards west a shallow pony track bypasses the site, whilst some four or five hundred yards east a very well worn and ancient road, long unused, passes in the direction of Emmot Holy Well. The cross may thus have been a Wayside Cross showing the way to this Holy spring which is remembered as being propitious in the cure of rheumatism.”
Cross-base socket
This may be so; but I suspect earlier, heathen remains upon the moors here to explain the curious position of both this and another cross-base some 400 yards away. Some dubious cup-marks can be seen by the side of the stone hollow; and other dubious ones have been found on the moors above here. There is folklore of a lost stone circle on the hills above here, and a scattering of little-known faerie lore, indicating hidden sites and lost myths. These ingredients are more likely the reasons that Herders Cross was erected here, overlooking the countryside south and west, with the holy hill of Pendle rising in the centre of the distant landscape…
References:
Byrne, Clifford, A Survey of the Wayside Crosses in North East Lancashire, unpublished 1974.
Taylor, Henry, The Ancient Crosses and Holy Wells of Lancashire, Sherratt & Hughes: Manchester 1906.
Many churches strive to find evidence in the greater antiquity of their foundations than the industrial age; and even those whose origins are medieval hope to find much older roots. Such is the case with this Norman church of St. Peter, where just such an antiquity was found in the middle of the 19th century, embedded in the old walling where it had been encased many centuries before. Thought to have been carved around the 8th century, the design on the stone typifies much ‘Celtic’ art, as it tends to be called, such as are found all over northern England. As we can see here, the main feature is a series of curved and interlocking lines covering most of the rock face (sadly, no swastika occurs on this stone, but it’s common on many others of this period). The old vicar of the church — Harold Rogers — takes up the story:
“About the year 1841, when part of the chancel work was taken down, some fragments of curiously ornamented sandstone were discovered embedded in the masonry. They were carefully removed, put together, and placed in the churchyard where, protected from injury by a glass case, they may now be seen. The carved ornamentation on this ancient relic was probably executed about the 8th century, and it is conjectured that the stone formed part of a cross placed there by some early Saxon converts…to commemorate the spot where the gospel was first preached in this locality.”
A brass inscription attached to the encased carved stone informs the visitor the same information. The proximity of this early carved stone to the River Bollin and, very probably, an ancient ford crossing, implies the waters here were held as sacred in ancient days and hence the supplanting of the ornate carved cross at this position in the landscape.
References:
Rogers, Harold W., Prestbury and its Ancient Church, Arthur Clownes: Macclesfield n.d. (c.1960)
The present day Market Cross that stands in Glastonbury’s High Street, ornate though it may look, replaced a much earlier and more memorable monument. The one we see today, said Charles Pooley (1877),
“at the junction of the four streets, was erected in 1846, after the design of B. Ferrey, Esq., at the instance and the cost of a private individual. It is a Gothic pinnacled structure of a simple type, with no pretensions to elaborate architectural display.”
The ancient Market CrossThe new Market Cross
A very poor substitute for the cross that stood in its place in earlier centuries, from all accounts. Before the modern spire was erected, an earlier, larger and more ornate structure — that seems to have been first described in John Leland’s classic Itinerary (1744 ) in the middle of the 18th century, simply as “the Market Crosse in the West Ende” — was the meeting point for the tradesmen and villagers of Glastonbury. Although Rahtz & Watts (2003) followed Leland in giving only passing mention to this once ornate structure, thankfully a number of earlier antiquarians gave the old cross a bit more literary attention. Mr Pooley (1877) again informs us:
“Warner, who was in Glastonbury in 1799, says, “In my way to the Abbey, I passed the Market Cross, and old polygonal structure, its apex crowned with a little naked figure, bearing strong marks, in its position and employment of that grossness of taste, in which the sculptors of the 15th century so frequently indulged.”
Other writers weren’t as puritanical in their descriptions. In John Britton’s (1807) tour of the architectural curiosities of the region he remarked:
“Though a large and extremely curious structure…it is scarcely noticed in the topographical annals of the county; its history is, therefore, perhaps entirely lost. Since the drawing was taken in 1802, the Cross had been suffered gradually to fall into ruins, part of the centre column then only standing.” He continued: “There is something peculiarly unique in the shape and ornament of this building. A large column in the centre, running through the roof, and terminating with a naked figure, clustered columns at each angle with odd capitals, bases, etc., and gables with pinnacles of unusual shape, all unite to constitute this one of the eccentricities of ancient building. From the time of the Norman Conquest to the Dissolution of the Engilsh Monasteries, the varied and progressive styles of architecture are satisfactorily defined, and a very general uniformity prevails in all the buildings of particular eras; but the specimen before us differs from anything that we have yet met… In the year 1802 there was a mutilated inscription on it, with the year 1604, but we cannot say that this date refers to the time of its building. There were also some armorial bearings carved on different parts of it. Among these were the arms (a cross between two cups) of Richard Beere, the last Abbot but one of Glastonbury. The presence of the canting device of Richard Beere would probably determine the date of its erection.”
Mr Pooley’s (1877) own description of the old cross told that,
“It was built of hewn stone on an octagonal plan, having clustered pillars ranged round a central column supporting the roof. Three steps, the lower one benched, surrounded the base of the shaft, for the convenience of the market people. The gables were terminated by moulded pinnacles, and the central shaft, which rose above the roof, was surmounted by a statue. Adjoining the cross was an ancient conduit, having a vaulted roof, and supplied with water from a reservoir at the uper part of town. These structures being in want of repair…it was determined to pull them down, which was done accordingly in the year 1808.”
So the next time anyone visits Glastonbury’s tall spired cross in the middle of the town, remember its old and much more ornate predecessor. Perhaps some of you arty-types down there could do a replica of the old thing with its naked figurines and resurrect it from its forgotten past…
References:
Britton, John, The Architectural Antiquities of Great Britain, Longman, Hurse: London 1807.
Leland, John, The Itinerary, James Fletcher: Oxford 1744.
Michell, John, New Light on the Ancient Mystery of Glastonbury, Gothic Image: Glastonbury 1990.
Pooley, Charles, The Old Stone Crosses of Somerset, Longmans, Green & Co.: London 1877.
Rahtz, Philip & Watts, Lorna, Glastonbury: Myth and Archaeology, Tempus: Stroud 2003.
Get up to the Twin Towers right at the top of Ilkley Moor (Whetstone Gate), then walk east along the footpath, past the towers for about another 100 yards, looking out on the other side of the wall until it meets with some other walling running downhill onto Morton Moor. Follow this walling into the heather for a few hundred yards. Where it starts dropping down the slope towards the small valley, stop! From here, follow the ridge of moorland along to your left (east) and keep going till you’re looking down into the little valley proper. Along the top of this ridge if you keep your eyes peeled, you’ll find the stone cross base sitting alone, quietly…
Archaeology & History
This old relic, way off any path in the middle of the moor, has little said of it. Whilst its base is still visible — standing on a geological prominence and fault line — and appears to taken the position of an older standing stone, christianised centuries ago, the site is but a shadow of its former self. When standing upright may centuries back, the “cross” was visible from many directions. We discovered this for ourselves about 20 years back, when Graeme Chappell and I sought for and located this all-but-forgotten monument. When we found the stone base, what seemed like the old stone cross lay by its side, so we repositioned it back into position on July 15, 1991. However, in the intervening years some vandal has been up there and knocked it out of position, seemingly pushing it downhill somewhere. When we visited the remains of the cross-base yesterday (i.e., Dave, Michala Potts and I) this could no longer be located. A few feet in front of the base however, was another piece of worked masonry which, it would seem, may have once been part of the same monument.
Cross-base, looking northClose-up of cross-base
Years ago, after Graeme and I had resurrected the “cross” onto its base, I went to visit the Bradup stone circle a few weeks later and found, to my surprise, the upright stone in position right on the skyline a mile to the northeast, standing out like a sore thumb! This obviously explained its curious position, seemingly in the middle of nowhere upon a little hill. This old cross, it would seem, was stuck here to replace the siting of what seems like a chunky 3½-foot long standing stone, lying prostrate in the heather about 10 yards west of the cross base.
Stuart Feather (1960) seems to be the only fella I can find who described this lost relic, thinking it may have had some relationship with a lost road that passed in the valley below here, as evidenced by the old milestone which Gyrus and I resurrected more than 10 years back. Thankfully (amazingly!) it still stands in situ!
If you aint really into old stone crosses, I’d still recommended having a wander over to this spot, if only for the excellent views and quietude; and…if you’re the wandering type, there are some other, previously undiscovered monuments not too far away, awaiting description…
References:
Bennett, Paul, The Old Stones of Elmet, Capall Bann: Chieveley 2001.
Feather, Stewart, “A Cross Base on Rombald’s Moor,” in Bradford Antiquary, May 1960.
Feather, Stewart, “Crosses near Keighley,” in Cartwright Hall Archaeology Group Bulletin 5:6, 1960.
Simple. The church in the centre of the village across from the T-junction with the A5 is where it’s at!
Archaeology & History
Cross-base with cup-marks (from Owen, 1886)
At Corwen churchyard we find a number of curious old stone relics — not least of which is this seemingly 12th century christian cross, more than seven-feet tall, on the west side of the church. Not only does this have a curious history in itself, but the base on which the cross stands has what may be at least seven cup-markings etched on it. These were first mentioned – I think – by Elias Owen in his Old Stone Crosses of the Vale of Clwyd, (1886) who wrote:
“The stone basement in which the (cross) shaft is placed is elliptical in form, with transverse and conjugate diameters measuring respectively 64 and 60 inches; it is 12 inches or so thick, is of a slaty nature and might have been procured in the neighbourhood… There are seven peculiar artificial depressions along the surface of the pedestal, strongly resembling the cup-markings which are found occasionally on the capstones of cromlechs, etc. They are irregularly arranged: on the north side there are three, almost in a line; and on other parts of the stone there are four of these marks. They differ somewhat from each other in size and shape, but they are for the most part circular, though one is more of an oblong than a circle. They vary also in depth, one being two-and-half inches deep, while the others are shallow. The largest is three inches in diameter; the others are not so broad.”
Owen makes note of a previous description of the Corwen “cross” by Thomas Pennant in 1784, where sounds as if this stone had a decidedly megalithic precursor. He told us:
“A most singular cross in the churchyard merits attention: the shaft is let into a flat stone, and that again is supported by four or five rude stones, as if the whole had been formed in imitation of, and in veneration of, the sacred Cromlech of very early times.”
Two other crosses are found at Corwen church – one of which has a decidely heathen legend attached to it. The Carreg y Big yn y Fach Rhewllyd monolith is also found here, in the porch wall. A few miles east of here we also find another cup-marked stone, shown on The Old-Fashioned Antiquarian website. Looks a good n’!
References:
Owen, Elias, Old Stone Crosses of the Vale of Clwyd and Neighbouring Parishes, Bernard Quaritch: London & Oswestry 1886.
Legendary Tree (destroyed): OS Grid Reference – SK 49751 83799
Folklore
This was one of the many sacred trees beneath or next to which, in pre-christian days, tribal councils met. Thanks to the local historians Paul Rowland and Lis Tigi Maguire Coyle (see ‘Comments’, below), the whereabouts of the tree has been located (contrary to my earlier idea that it had sadly died). The local writer Harry Garbutt wrote of it in the 1940s, saying:
“The importance of Harthill in Saxon days may be adduced also from the fact that of the Three Hundreds of the Wapentake, Harthill was one. The Hundred was the Court of local justice and government, and at Harthill would meet under the old Trysting Tree.”
The very word trysting relates to any species of tree that has importance, be it by its appearance or position, and relates to those that were used as traditional or popular meeting sites.
References:
Garbett, Harry, The History of Harthill-with-Woodall and its HamletKivetonPark, Arthur H. Stockwell: Ilfracombe n.d. (c.1948)
Acknowledgements: Massive thanks to Paul Rowland (‘Comments’, below), for information pointing us to the exact spot where our Trysting Tree lived; and to Lis Tigi Maguire Coyle for the additional folklore ‘Comment’, below. Huge thanks to you both!
