'Killed by terror of faeries'

GOBLINS and hobgoblins, witches and worms, faeries and phantasms - ours is a land rich in folklore, in myths and legends, of superstition and the supernatural, fact blending with fiction. For hundreds of years, these tales have been kept alive, passed down through the generations, embellished and embroidered.

From the boar of Brancepeth to the Easington witch, the old lady of Thirsk to Peg Powler of Piercebridge, the hob of Hob Hole to Hell Kettles at Oxenfield, almost every village and town in England has its own story to tell.

Now, hundreds of these yarns have been brought together. Researched by leading members of the Folklore Society, Lore of the Land is a comprehensive guide to the folklore of England. And the breadth of stories is testament to the enduring appeal of legends.

"Some of the stories are unique but in many cases they form patterns," says Nigel Wilcockson, the book's editor. "Often they are trying to explain something that is there, and one example is stories about standing stones, where people have obviously been thinking 'How did they get there?'.

"One of the common explanations is people who have been turned to stone, and you find that this occurs in different parts of the country and has probably arisen independently.

"But my guess is also that, in a lot of cases, a story gets attached to a particular place and as people moved around the country, it is easy to see how it could then get attached to somewhere else."

Among standing stones not ascribed to people being turned to stone are the Devil's Arrows at Boroughbridge in North Yorkshire. The three tall stones - there used to be four but one was taken down - stand in an almost straight line, and probably formed part of a religious monument.

But their height, and the furrows in their surface caused by rain and wind damage which suggest the grooves of an arrow, gave rise to the myth that they were bolts used by devils to overthrow cities. Wade's Stone, at Barnby, on the Whitby to Loftus road, is said to mark the grave of a Saxon duke who fell in battle. It was once one of a pair, and the distance between the two a sign that Wade was a giant.

Hell Kettles at Oxenyfield, on the Skerne two miles south of Darlington, were one of the wonders of Britain. Apparently bottomless pits whose surface bubbled with sulphur and where the water occasionally and mysteriously turned warm, they were probably caused by a sudden collapse in the ground in about 1178.

But they gave rise to the legend that they contained the souls of sinners in Hell, and it was said that any cow or sheep that came to drink there would fall in and be drowned in their fathomless depths.

"For the same reason we believe in conspiracy theories, in a lot of cases, we're so disappointed by what might be the real explanation that we tend to invent something more ingenious," says Mr Wilcockson.

As well as mysterious landmarks, tales were also inspired by the fragility of life. Early death was common, and spirits were invoked both to explain how life had been snatched away, and to explain how it had been saved.

"When life is so precarious you are going to get certain common beliefs," says Mr Wilcockson. "Anyone doing a very dangerous job, like mining, was almost invariably going to become superstitious, and these superstitions would be pessimistic about what was going to happen, or optimistic to ward it off." Thus, sewer workers came up with the myth of Queen Rat, one of many creatures which will either protect or do you harm.

Another strand is those stories which may contain a glimmer of historical truth. One such could be the boar of Brancepeth, a fearsome creature which made its home on Brandon Hill and terrorised the surrounding country, until it fell into a pit dug by Hodge of Ferry, who then cut off its head. Although it may not have been quite the beast of legend, it may have derived from a time when wild boar were a common danger.

"For some of these stories, it is almost certain that they will have happened somewhere and then got picked up," says Mr Wilcockson. "If you hear a good story you want to tell it yourself, in the same way that people will say something happened to them."

The fact these tales still persist suggests they have a powerful hold on our imaginations, even if many of them are no longer believed. And if anyone thinks we are now too sophisticated for such things, they need only look at the modern equivalent, the urban myth. Who hasn't heard of the couple hearing a thump on the roof of their car just as a killer's escape from a psychiatric hospital is announced on the radio? At one time, crop circles were put down to the devil. Now, we think it is extra-terrestrials, at least the ones not made by hoaxers.

"This thing of myth-making is a continuous process, I don't think that will ever change," says Mr Wilcockson. "Even today, certain things happen that seem implausible, and people will desperately look to find a reason why it should happen.

"Certain things have changed. There is a death register in Cumbria where it says, 'Number of people killed by terror of faeries: three'. I don't think we believe in faeries anymore, but that doesn't mean we have stopped being superstitious or fearful.

"We have narrowed the things that we worry about, but I think it will be a very dull world if we stopped making our own myths and legends."

Old Nannie of Sexhow

FOLKTALES abound of the ghost which cannot rest until hidden treasure has been found, but rarely does it end so badly as in the story of Old Nannie of Sexhow, near Stokesley in North Yorkshire.

After her death, an old woman appeared to a farmer and told him that she had buried a hoard of silver and gold under a certain apple tree in his orchard. He was to dig it up, keep the silver but give the gold to her niece, who was living in poverty.

The farmer duly went to the spot she had indicated and dug up the treasure, but instead of giving the gold to the woman's niece he kept it for himself.

From that day on he knew no peace. He took to drink but was troubled by what he had done, dogged by the ghost of Old Nannie.

One night, his neighbours heard him returning late from Stokesley Market, his horse galloping furiously, leaping his gate in one bound. They heard the farmer cry out, "I will, I will, I will!" and when they looked out they saw Old Nannie, dressed in black and with a straw hat on her head, sitting on the horse behind the farmer.

The farmer rode past them, hair on end and still uttering his cry, but when they came out they found the horse had stopped at the farm, on its back the corpse of the farmer.

Although it can be taken as a warning against greed, its underlying message is that, where treasure is concerned, do exactly what the ghost tells you.

* Lore of the Land: A Guide to England's Legends by Jennifer Westwood and Jacqueline Simpson (Penguin, £30).