Goblin Combe

"There are "sights seen" here, though their nature remains vague. And if you want to get to Goblin Coombe, the best way is to go as far as the Highway-man's oak and then lose yourself"

I first started researching Faery Folklore after finding a dusty old book in a second hand book shop in Weston Super Mare. This book was called 'A Somerset Sketch Book' and as I scanned through the chapter headings... The Ploughing Match..... The Rat-Catcher.... The Sheep-Shearing...one in particular caught my eye... Goblin Coombe. At that time I lived in Somerset and although I already had an interest in faeries and an interest in local history, until that point I didn't realise just how many faery stories there are that are specific to certain locations and are only known mostly to local residents. I bought the book and read it on the train home, and a couple of months later myself and my partner were driving along to Goblin Combe in search of Goblins. That was long before I began this blog, but I thought it time to include the story of Goblin Combe as I ventured there on an Autumn day rather like today. The quotes featured below are from 'A Somerset Sketch-Book' by H. Hay Wilson (1912).

"That lane to Goblin Coombe, one June morning, promised to be unending, and nothing happened for all its turns and twists until suddenly a small boy-thing came walking around the next corner. He had very large ears like jug-handles, and an expressionless freckled face; and when he was asked where the road led he only smiled and would not answer."

"It is as lonely a place as you can see, a cheerful loneliness, barren and secure because the plough would be useless in Goblin Coombe. It is a long, winding, narrow cleft in the limestone; the steep sides are bare above, and dotted with dwarf-thorns twisted into queer shapes by the mighty sea wind that sweeps up from the channel whose waters shimmer far away beyond the valley. Shrubs and saplings grip on the shelves stony sides, and the grey boulders crop up among tufts of gorse and patches of herbage and clumps of ash and fir, and the whitebeam. Up above where the tilled land meets the Goblin region there are gnarled hedgerow oaks that seem to 'girn' and threaten like queer elf-things bound fast in the tree's slow growth."

"At other times the Coombe belongs to nature - or the goblins, which you will! And to confirm their right, in the middle of the coombe a gaunt grey signboard stands up declaring, in stark defiance of the evidence of your eyes, that there is "no path". Whence it is plain that the track winding down the valley is an illusion, a goblin path that leads you straight into fairyland."

"You could fancy that wood beneath the crescent moon alive with a silent stir of wee things, "green jacket, red cap, owl's feather," peering across the near stone wall with curious, sharp, elfin faces at the red firelight, streaming to meet the moonlight without."

We couldn't find the 'no path' sign, but we did find a large hollow old tree large enough to fit a person inside. I imagine this could possibly be the highway man's tree referred to in the story. We also found a forest bench with a neat row of stones placed on top in a curious manner. The work of local children, or could it be the work of the goblins?

Details of another fairy sighting in Goblin Combe can be found in 'Folktales of England' by Katherine Briggs and Ruth Tongue (1965):

"There was a parcel of children and they was a-picking primroses, see, and one poor little dear her wandered away on her lone self right down into Goblin Combe. She were only a little trot, see, and didn't know no better. Well, when she do find she's a lost she cries, and the tears do run down her dear little face, and dap on her pinafore like summer rain, and she do throw her self against a rock. Then the rock opens and there's the fairises all come to comfort her tears. They do give her a gold ball and they lead the dear little soul safe home - on account she was carrying primroses, see. Well, twas the wonder of the village and the conjuror he gets the notion he'd aget his fistes on more than one gold ball when next the fairises opened the hill. So he do pick a bunch of primroses and he go on up Goblin Combe, and he was glad enough to get in to the rock after all he see and hear on the way up. Well, twasn't the right day, nor the right number of primroses, and he wasn't no dear little soul - so they took him!"

Sources & Further Information
A Somerset Sketch Book, H. Hay Wilson
Folktales of England, Briggs & Tongue
Goblin Combe Environment Centre

Thirlwall Castle

In the town of Thirlwall stands the remains of a 12th Century castle, said to be guarded by a demonic dwarf. According to volume 1 of the Local Historian's Table Book, Legendary division (1843):

"A Baron of Thirlwall castle returned from a continental war laden with abundance of treasure, amongst which was a table of solid gold. The gold table, it was furthermore said, was guarded day and night by a hideous dwarf, represented by many to be the foul fiend himself. In a predatory excursion of the Scots, however, the castle was stormed and taken by night, and the baron and his retainers after a desperate resistance were slain. The castle was ransacked for the treasure, the room containing it, was forcibly entered, but dwarf - gold table - and money bags had disappeared. They searched dungeon and vault, but nothing could be found, so after setting fire to the castle they departed. The dwarf (according to tradition) during the heat of the engagement removed the treasure, and after throwing it into a deep well jumped in after it, and by his infernal power closed the top of the well over himself and his charge."

It is said that the dwarf still haunts the castle, keeping a watchful eye over the treasure hidden beneath. Some versions of the legend say he is under a spell, which can only be broken by the only son of a widow. The Local Historian's Table Book adds that 50 years ago (c. 1793) a man was ploughing and found what he thought to be the well. He returned alone at night to investigate further, but despite searching day and night he could never find the place again.

According to the National Park Website, during the restoration of nearby Blenkinsopp Castle, the entrance to a secret passage was discovered in the north-east corner. It is thought that there may have once been a secret passageway connecting Blenkinsopp Castle to Thirlwall Castle, to provide an escape route should either castle be captured by the enemy. Strangely enough, Blenkinsopp castle is said to be haunted by the ghost of a white lady whose treasure is hidden down this same secret passageway, so there must be quite a collection of gold gathering down there!

If there's one thing i've learnt about Northumberland (apart from the alarming number of evil dwarves!), it's that no matter how lovely the weather is during the week, it always rains at the weekends! On an overcast and rainy Northumberland Sunday, myself and my chauffeur/navigator/very understanding boyfriend put on our winter woolies and waterproofs and ventured off to Thirlwall Castle. Just as we got there the skies opened up so unfortunately my exploring and photo taking was cut short! No signs of any secret tunnels or overgrown wells, but it really is a lovely old castle ruin and definitely has a feeling of the Fae about it!

Sources & Further Information
Local Historian's Table Book, Vol 1, Legendary Division
National Park Website

Cateran Hole

The Cateran's Hole, in the middle of deserted moorland, is according to legend the start of a long underground tunnel leading all the way to the Henhole in the Cheviots, about 16 miles away. One story tells of a party of young men from Bewick who decided to explore the tunnel, lead by a man named Hall. They assembled at the Cateran's Hole one evening, as they were too busy working during the day, armed with candles and food provisions. In they wandered, scrambling over rocks, plunging through water, stooping down to pass under rocks, and sometimes even crawling. Many of the party lost heart and headed home, but Hall continued onwards and persuaded many of the men to stay. Eventually they came to a huge stone that appeared to block the way, but Hall was not going to give up easily and climbed to the top of the rock and found a gap large enough to squeeze through. His men followed after him. On the other side, they found themselves in a large chamber, and sat down to rest. An extract from 'Northumbrian Legends' by George Tate (1863) continues:

"While resting, [they] were startled by the sound of wondrous music, which seemed to come down through the earth above them; the strains were wild but entrancing,now rising and swelling, and then dying away like the gushes of harmony issuing from the AEolian harp, as the evening breeze fitfully sweeps through the strings when other sounds are mute. Ere long, the pattering of tiny feet was heard beating time to the wild music; and soon blending with these sounds, a song was chanted by many voices, shrill, though sweet, but yet unlike earthly tones; and this was the burden of the song-

"Wind about and turn again,
And thrice around the Hurl Stane."

"Round about and wind again,
And thrice around the Hurl Stane."

The party were terrified, and knew well the dangers of venturing into the domain of the fairies, and realised they were now underneath the Hurl Stone, a favourite place of the fairies. They abandoned the rest of their journey, and headed home, never to venture back into Cateran's Hole again.

We decided it was about time someone ventured back down there, and myself and my partner in navigation [without whom i'd never find any of these places, I have a terrible sense of direction and am permanently pixy-led!] headed down Cateran's Hole.

We managed to walk about 35 metres along the underground tunnel without difficulty, but unfortunately the path was blocked by some very low hanging rocks and we could not venture on as far as the Hurl Stone! According to this report, there is another small chamber after the low hanging rocks, followed by a breakdown which cannot be passed. So it seems to be unknown whether or not the passage did once continue on as far as the Hurl Stone, or if it even headed in that direction. Perhaps the fairies got annoyed with all the trespassers and blocked up the tunnel!

Sources & Further Information

Northumberland Legends, George Tate

Caves in the fell sandstone of Northumberland, G.J. Mullan

Dancing Green Hill

Near North Hazelrigg, next to a winding country road, stands Dancing Green Hill. According to Denham Tracts Vol 2:

"The Dancing Green knowe, among the heathy-backed Cockenheugh range, as well as the Dancing Hill, where stretch the bleak moors behind Beanly, still testify by their names to their being resorts of the "good people" for their favourite diversion."

Sources & Further Information
Denham Tracts Vol 2, Denham

The Cauld Lad O'Hilton

A mischievious brownie was once said to live in the kitchen at Hylton Castle. He took joy in throwing pots and pans around during the night, after the servants had taken great care in tidying it before retiring to bed. However, if the servants had left the kitchen in a state of disarray then he would carefully tidy it and spend the night cleaning up the mess. According to 'Folk Tales of the North Country' by Grice (1944), the Cauld Lad's mishievious tricks included overturning chairs, rolling up mats, emptying the linen from the cupboards, pilling all the pans in the middle of the floor, and throwing water over the wood pile. He was often heard singing:

"Wae's me, wae's me
The acorn is not yet
Fallen from the tree
That's to grow the wood
That's to make the candle
That's to rock the bairn
That's to grow a man
That's to lay me."

The servants had enough of his mischief and decided to banish him away. Luckily, they knew the best way to banish a Brownie was to give him new clothing, as a smartly dressed Brownie considers himself far too well dressed for housework. The servants made a small green cloak of silk and a red velvet hood, and laid them infront of the fire. At midnight, the Cauld Lad appeared and tried the clothing on in delight, then danced around the kitchen, singing:

"Here's a cloak and here's a hood,
The Cauld Lad O'Hilton will do no more good."

He disappeared, never to be seen again in the Hylton Castle kitchens. However, according to some sources he was later spotted rowing people across the Wear in a ferry boat, kept tethered near the castle. He would row people half way across the wear, then disappear or give them a terrible fright, returning later to row them back to the castle.

Some versions of the legend refer to the Cauld Lad O'Hilton as being a ghost, sometimes that of a young stable boy called Roger Skelton, who was killed in the 16th century by a baron of Hilton. Other versions of the tale can be found here and here.

Once a year, as part of Heritage Open days, the castle is opened to the public. I went along with my partner and trusty navigator, and we had a good wander around the castle. No strange goings on or Cauld Lad sightings, but a beautiful castle and well worth a visit.

We also ventured along to the ferry crossing in the river where the Cauld Lad is said to row to the castle, but it seems someone has put an end to his pranks and stuck a rather large rock in his boat!

Sources & Further Information

Local Historian's Table Book, vol 3, Richardson

The Fairy Mythology, Keightley

Folklore of the Northern Counties, Henderson

Denham Tracts Vol 1, Denham

Folk Tales of the North Country, Grice

Friends of Hylton Castle

Pensher Hill Fairies

Pensher hill, now more commonly known as Penshaw Hill, was once said to be a fairy hill where the fairies gathered to bake their bread and cakes. According to 'Legends and Superstitions of Durham' by William Brockie (1886):

"The fairies used to be heard patting their butter on the slope of Pensher Hill, when people were passing in the dark. A man once heard one of them say, "mend that peel!". Next day, going past again, he found a broken peel lying on the ground. So he took it up and mended it. The day after that, when going along the road with a cart, he saw a piece of bread lying on a stone at the root of the hedge, at the identical place, with nice-looking fresh butter spread upon it: but he durst neither eat it himself, nor give it to his horses. The consequence was that before he got to the top of the "lonnin" both his horses fell down dead."

Penshaw hill is now more famously known for the Penshaw Monument, which sits at the top of the hill, and also for its part in the legend of the Lambton Worm. The hill was once also home to an Iron Age hill fort.


Sources and Further Information
Legends and Superstitions of Durham, William Brockie
The Story of the Lambton Worm
Penshaw Hill Hillfort
The Penshaw Monument

Hermitage Castle Redcap

Whilst researching the Brown Man of the Muirs appearance at Hermitage Castle, I came across another legend of the Faery kind, the Redcap advisor to Lord Soulis.

According to legend, Lord Soulis was a cruel tyrant, wizard, and practitioner of the Black Arts. He is said to have fortified his castle by all available means, using both materials and infernal incantations, and recieved advice from his familiar and henchman, Robin Redcap. Redcaps, also known as powries or dunters, are said to be a breed of evil goblins with a lust for blood. They mostly inhabit ruined castles along the border between England and Scotland, where they murder travellers to dye their hats with their victims' blood. It is said that if the blood on their hats dries out, then the redcap will die. From Walter Scott's Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border (1802):

"Lord Soulis he sat in Hermitage castle.
And beside him Old Redcap sly ;
" Now tell me, thou sprite, who art meikle of might,
The death that I must die ?"

" While thou -shalt bear a charmed life.
And hold that life of me,
'Gainst lance and arrow, sword and knife,
I shall thy warrant be."

It was said that Lord Soulis could not be killed by metal weapons, but was eventually defeated at the orders of the King of Scotland. According to Walter Scott's Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border (1802):

"Tradition proceeds to relate, that the Scotish king, irritated by reiterated complaints, peevishly exclaimed to the petitioners," Boil him, if you please, but let me hear no more of him." Satisfied with this answer, they proceeded with the utmost haste to execute the commission, which they accomplished by boiling him alive on the Nine-stane Rig, in a cauldron said to have been long preserved at Skelf-hill, a hamlet betwixt Hawick and the Hermitage. Messengers, it is said, were immediately dispatched by the king, to prevent the eft'ects of such a hasty declaration ; but they only arrived in time to witness the conclusion of the ceremony."

Robin Redcap is said to still be seen at Hermitage Castle, guarding his treasure. I'm glad to say that on our visit we did not encounter Redcap, but as the castle is open to the public every summer, i'm sure there's no shortage of victims!

Sources and Further Information

Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border Vol 2, Walter Scott

Undiscovered Scotland, Hermitage Castle

Undiscovered Scotland, William de Soulis