Legends & Tales of Elmet.

Last updated 22/04/06

To include local tales and legends. The 'small' stories that give the area it's true character.

As quick samplers:-

A Brief Guide to Haunted Pontefract. by Adam Beddis.

The Castle is the main focus of attention in Pontefract - and has been in one form or another since 1090 A.D. - as even in today's modern world the past has a seeming habit of repeating itself.

As it stands there are up to twenty different reports of ghostly goings-on, ranging from medieval monks to grey ladies, all of which have been reported sighted in the last two years. Here is a brief list.

Monks.

Four reported sightings, possibly of the same one in some cases although the colour of habit worn has changed twice and perhaps the black monk and the grey monk are separate spirits. A woman wearing grey has also been seen walking from Stoney Hill to the present gates, she is also described as holding a lantern.

The public conveniences have a ghost too! The Ladies is reported as having a young girl crying and screaming. I myself have witnessed ladies leaving the place in a hurry after claiming to have heard this noise. The Visitors Centre which adjoins this place has had a rather eerie feel to it, one custodian claims to have had a door slammed in his face!

Cavalier soldiers still patrol around the Castle at night, these men have been seen at the Magazine stairway coming up to the present lawn (the Great Hall site), the Keep (especially at the back), in the head custodian's house in the grounds (one was seen so often at one point that the custodian thought of charging him rent.) and, lastly, the house off Spink Lane which backs onto the Castle have got a soldier of Cavalier style, still roaming up and down the stairs.

A photo was taken of the Keep, later, after being developed a ghostly figure was found on it with a crown sitting on his head. The dogs that go into the Castle still will not go near the Sallyport - especially after dark.

Recently a figure of a man dressed in black was seen, stood on top of the Keep and reading a parchment.

Every year a man comes and places flowers on the Keep in memory of the long dead leader Colonel John Morris (1648). Although he himself makes no claims it has been noted by others that a voice is heard speaking to him.

Rubbish or reality? Who can say? But Elmet contains too many such tales and experiences to allow total dismissal.

Justice Vavasour

There was a Justice, but late in the realme of England, called Master Vavasour, a very homely man and rude of condycions, and lovyd, never to spend mych, mych money. This Master Vavasour rode on a tyme in hys cyrceutyee (circuit) in the northe countrey, where he had agreed wyth the sheryf for a certain some of money for hys charges thorowe the shyre, so that at every inne and lodgynge this Master Vavasour payed for hys own costys. It fortuned so, that when he came to a certayn lodgyng he commanded one Turpyn, hys servant to see that he used good husbondry, and to save suche thynges as were left, and to carry it wyth hym to serve hym baytynge.

Thys Turpyn, doying his mayster's commandment, take the broken bred, broken mete, and all such tying that was left, and put it in his mayster's cloth sak. The wyf of the hous, perceywing that he toke all such fragmentys and vytale wyth hym that was left, and put it in the clothe sak, she brought up a podage that was left in the pot; and when Turpyn had turned hys bak a lytyl asyde, she pouryd the podage into the clothe sak whych ran upon hys robe of skarlet and other of hys garmentys, and rayed them very evyll, that they were much hurt therewyth.

Thys Turpyn, sodegnly turnying hym, and seeing it, revyled the wyf, therfore, and ran to hys mayster, and told hym what she had don; wherfore Master Vavasour incontinent, called the wyf, and said to her thus: "Thou drab, " quoth he, "what has thou don? Why hast thou pourd the podage in my clothe sak, and marrd my rayment and gere?"

"O, sir, " quoth the wyf, "I know wel ye are a judge of the realme, and I perceyve by your mind is to do ryght as to have that is your owen ; and you mynd is to have all thyng wyth you that ye have payd for, both broken mete and other thynges that is left, and so it is reson that ye have: and therfore, because your servant hath taken the broken mete and put it in your clothe sak, I have therin put the podage that be left, because ye have wel and truly payed for them. Yf I shoulde kepe any thynge from you that he hath payed for, per-adventure, ye wold trouble me in the law another tyme." Here ye may se, that he that playeth the niygards sp mych, som tyme it torneth hym to hys owne losse.

Harewood

Harewood has many claims to be the place where the final scene was enacted in connection with the fierce love for Elfrida by the King Edgar and Earl Ethelwald. It was this King Edgar who first reigned supreme from the Channel to the Tweed, and many kings and princes did him homage, to such an extent, that eight of those petty kings once rowed him in his large barge down the river Dee. Elfrida was the daughter of Olgar, a noble Jarl of Devon; the fame of her beauty spread far and wide, and at length reached the ears of the king, whose curiosity being greatly excited, he employed Earl Ethelwald to visit Elfrida's parents, and ascertain if the reports of her great beauty were true, if so, intending to make her his queen.

But alas for the frailty of human nature, when the earl saw the lady was beautiful, he became enamoured, and fell a victim to the violence of his own love. Privately marrying her, he endeavoured to conceal the fraud by false reports, telling the king that many ladies of his own court were far more beautiful than Elfrida, at the same time remarking, that though the fame of her beauty was not equal to report, the nobility of her birth and her great riches would be a good match for himself, if the lady would consent to the marriage.

The king not seeing his artifice, gave him every encouragement. Ethelwald now removed his beautiful bride to his estate at Werwelleye, near Harewood. By the enemies of Ethelwald, reports of Elfrida's great beaty were again whispered in the ears of the king. Being determined to see for himself, Edgar sent a message to inform Ethelwald that he was about holding a great hunt in the forest of Harewood. It was not till then that Elfrida learnt from the Earl's own lips the deception he had practiced on the king. Elfrida, who now appears before us as a woman of the world, on the approach of Edgar, arrayed herself in choicest garments, leaving out nothing which would add lustre to her charms, appearing before him an apparition of dazzling beauty. The king, who from the first sight was smitten with her charms, kept silent. On the morrow, when chasing the deer through a lonely part of Harewood forest, he rushed upon Ethelwald with the fierce cry of "Traitor!" and slew him with a javelin.

"Thus parted from the rest,

The Monarch pierc'd a darkling dell,

Which opened in a lawn, thich-set with elm around,

Suddenly he turn'd his steed, and cry'd:

'This place befits our purpose well!'

Telling the earl to defend himself, in the words of the poet, the king says:

'If thou fall'st, thy parting breath

Must to my right resign Elfrid's beauties.'

At the word both drew, both fought, but Ethelwald,

With ill-played passion, aim'd his falchion at the monarch's head,

Only to leave his own breast defenceless;

And, on that instant, Edgar's rapid sword

Pierced my dear master's breast."

History says that Elfrid soon gave her hand to the licentious monarch, the murderer of her husband.

Merddyn's Tale.

I come to write this story alongside the River Craw , or at least I would so be were it still here. Never was it a river really anyway, more a stream, mayhap swelled in some seasons, but now no more stream nor river. It is no more. But then perhaps that it fitting for, in truth, my story is no more also. But once it was. Once it was a story that moved men, helped make a nation, inspired battles and dreams. Aye, once it was, just as the Craw was but isn't. Such, it seems, are the ways of things. The ways of things and the minds of men.
But enough! Let me tell it. Tell it here and now before I draw any further into melancholy, for sure enough that is an ague that besets me easier and easier these latter days. 'Tis but the dues of age I am sure. Aye, age. And surely it has been an age since my story was first told. Near on fifteen centuries it will now be since it was first voiced to the Lord Carrath, though it oft times seems in my mind's eye like but yesterday since I stood breathless before him with excitement, I was younger then of course and more apt to excited moods. Five it covers and fifteen have I covered it! But I am getting ahead of myself in the telling here so let's bring ourselves into this thing all proper as it were. Aye. First let me introduce myself to all as attend as is right and proper for such things. Aye.
My name is Merddyn. Merddyn ap Morfryn by family. Storyman and historian, ledger and law lord. Aye. And this story have I told for and to nigh on 100 generations of men. For that is my fate, not that I contest it mind! Nay! Not a bit of it. Aye.
Enough. Let us be to it then. To any who would listen, so shall I speak of it. The Coming of the Eagle. Aye. And the leaving of same, and therein the greatest of all heroic ages for those who were lords on the Island of The Mighty.
So starts my story.
Craddock was lord here then. Aye and a great man was that lord. Five wars had he won, five wars and fifty battles. Twenty score good warriors had he finished with his blade and great tribute had he brought to his land. One hundred warriors followed his lead and generous was he to those that were with him. Poets and storymen were always warm and fed at his hearth. Honour was his and great did he give it! Four strong sons gave him pride and his lady herself was renown on the chariot!
It was the end of a quiet year. The fires would soon be lit to usher in Spring's glory. To the south, across the twin-river valley, all had been still. No word of the legion of Rome that sat there waiting out Winter. Craddock knew that it could not last. Secret meetings, so secret as were known to all, had been the theme of this Winter past. The lady of the Brigantii had been supping with the generals of these foreign forces. Like gwylthbwyl it was being played, move by move, who could side who against who. Craddock was not so short of sight as to see that Rome could only gain here and gains had always to come from someone else's losses! He had long vowed it would not be his loss to pay - accepted at a great tribute in glory!
Since before the first snows had come he had spies watching the Roman caister that was growing slowly and methodically down by the ford on the Calder. The road builders stopped ne'er one day, whatever the weather, in drawing their long stone line from the south. Ships had been reported bringing stakes and towing barges down from up river loaded with stone. Buildings grew apace of wood cut local and the stone seemed settled for the forming of a causeway to this side of the river. Doubtless for the continuation of that godless road.
Craddock had come to hate that road, pointing as it did straight at his heart like an arrow. Hate it and fear it, in as much as he knew fear - for the safety of his lands. As much to lessen boredom during the long Winter nights a few of his household had taken to raiding the sites along the road bringing back little enough but the pleasure of the disruption caused and the lessons learned. Aye, lessons were needed right enough as their lord knew only too well. Much of the advance of these southlanders had been done through little else but bribery and politics, but where true battle had been brought against them they had emerged the victors.
Were they braver? Far from it! Better at sword and axe? Not a bit of it! More numerous? The opposite! So why the results as seen? Craddock had only such stories as came to him from scared survivors or second-hand witnesses. Not the kind of intelligence on which to gamble life and land. He needed to know what magic these Romans used for, in truth they had seen their set-backs too, and Craddock intended that here was where the game would stop for good.

Thus it was that he planned his first true attack. Not to inflict defeat, not to delay, though all such were to be rejoiced upon, no, to test. To try. To learn. To teach. He knew that soon the campaign weather would be upon them and with it the enemy too. He had to know how they would attack and how he could prevail. How, when, where and in what force. This he had to know and he had little time to find his answers.
The 'where' was none too difficult, for in all previous battles the one fact that had been straight to all telling was that the Romans had come on straight frontal to their task. Thus he could expect that the damnable road line would be their direction upon him, and if it wasn't then he had better make it so. That they fought large battles as some kind of mass was also the theme of all reports, but what and why he knew little or nothing. None who faced them had lived, not to tell their story to his ears at least. This learning was to be his first step, if survival was to be a possibility. Challenge and learn from the reaction. Winter had not given a time nor a place suitable to any such testing as no numbers of the enemy as would be sufficient to this aim had ventured abroad from their camp fires. To attack their camp would probably be disastrous in result as it's position was strong and not be indicative of this afeared Roman attack formation at all anyway.
He waited. He cursed. He cursed often, .....but he waited, and he planned.
After the slaughter at Ynys Mon some years before when the Roman Legion campaigning there had butchered a great number of the Wise there had come to Craddock's land a goodly number of folk seeking refuge. Among them were several very knowledgeable men and women that gave great pride to Craddock and his people. The leader of this group, if leader he could be called, was a man they named Lleu. This Lleu was a tall man of few public words who must have seen well more than sixty Summers. Craddock knew the sort well and rejoiced in such a presence in his land while keeping well away from such ways and their boredom.
Now, if ever, was a time when there could be some value in the man and his retinue. A visit was in order.
The cold frosty mist still clung to the branches when Craddock called for his horse. Adorned in gold and many jewelled chains the animal mirrored it's master. Resplendent in gold and silver mail with richly enamelled panels and target he was truly every inch a hero. The bustle around him was intense as his war band reacted to their leader's actions. Two hundred and thirty warriors rushed for horse and arms totally unawares of what was afoot. Berrauc was a flurry of feet and calls, questions and oaths as men made ready to serve their lord and be seen to be doing so. A messenger was called for and stood forth. Listening to Craddock's commands he swung his steed and made off South. Others came and went, East, North and West. Craddock called for Gwyln, his head Druaght, but need not have bothered as he stood there watching the melee.
"Tell me, Wise One, what portents does this day hold for us?" It was the customary enquiry. "The spirits will tell in their own time." Came the expected reply. "Find a mount and join us Gwyln, I will have need of your council this day." Gwyln was unmoved, " You Lord? When did you ever resort to advice from a Wise Man?"
The sarcasm caused a titter in the readying group. Craddock laughed, "Only once, long ago, when I knew one!" The uproar set the mood for the morning and Gwyln mounted the horse offered him and joined in the jollity, a lifetime of friendship showed in their banter, a shared anxiety girded their actions. Pulling out of the defences of Berrauc they fell into line along the easterly track which led alongside the great defences known as The Becca on their left and the valley of the Cocru river on their right. The parade caught the mood of their lord and any brevity soon softened down to respectful attendance.
Craddock had much to think about as he rode, "What is this Lleu really like Gwyln? You have spent some time with him and are closer to his kind than I will ever be." He looked at his old friend in hope as well as enquiry.
Gwyln thought on the question some time before offering any answer, "In the light of what is soon to come upon us here he has much information that may well help us. Few are experienced in what these Romans have to offer, though I doubt if he knows much about their battle tactics that would help us. He is not easy to question about his experiences, his pride is hurt beyond doubt."
"Hmmph. It will be a deal more than his pride that gets hurt if we don't put a stop to the Romans march at this mark! Where does he think to flee next? We are running short on land to flee to!" Craddock wasn't as angry with this Lleu as he was with himself for still not finding an answer to the 'unstoppable' enemy.

The track eased down the valley side as the Cocru widened and slowed over a rock shelf at Abercraw. Here the Cocru was joined by the Craw just beyond the ford that crossed the rock shelving. Here was a very sturdy and complex set of works well able to defend the land abouts, especially from the South, with damming controlling and creating marsh lands and bankings overlooking the results. Craddock had toiled for five years on the fortifications of his stand and this is where he planned they would take the brunt of it when it came. His eye swept over all about him missing no detail. As the halted to ready themselves for the crossing he was pleased to note the arrival of another line of horses coming through from the North. Gwalchmai, his wife's brother, who held the Northern march for him, here in all finery with his guard. Well met!
Greetings passed, they stepped forward across the freezing waters and up the long, steep, far bank that would bring them to the moor. The frozen ruts on the trackway made it slow going and Carrock looked around to where his charioteer bumped and slid along some twenty or so paces behind. "Owyn should be upon us soon." to no one in particular, "Guide we well with this Lleu, Gwyln. If we are met and all goes well there may be to help us here. By the Land, we may yet need all the help we can muster!"
"Then salute him and bite your tongue!" grinned his friend, " Let him do the talking and I will lead him if he balks. You would do best to exercise your ears and little else!"
"Hrrrmmph!" came the reply, but Gwyln knew it had best be so, and that Craddock knew so too.
It was a crisp morning and carrying a fair bite but the Lord of Berrauc had no feeling for fresh Winter chills as they neared the moor and it's look-out hill. It stood full East of the track and all alone for the land abouts was level else. Atop was a palisade with a wooden tower that gave good view to all sides, especially South, and carried to it's corner a flare barrel of coal-tar and pitch oil in bracken. Always was a torch lit here and any danger would see the barrel flare up to pre-warn the defences proper. Twixt the track and the hill ran the little Craw stream which gave some delay to any attackers, but the site was not a defendable position against any sustained push.
The North side of the hill was shallow and wooded, offering some shelter from the prevailing West winds of Summer, not so much from the Northerly rush that Winter oft offered. Here it was that a small encampment had grown and to which setting the people of Lleu had added their numbers. As the large party closed on the position it was possible to hear the beating of the skin drum alarming all abouts as to their visitors.
Craddock and his host idled up the track and then turned to meet the ford just North of the hill proper. Gwyln reached over and tapped his lord's arm nodding East as Craddock turned. Thence came Owyn and his men along the roadway from Caer Lodd, always a sight worth the seeing. Now no man would wish to be seen looking less than his own honour would demand but the warband of Lodd were always so colourous as to shame the very Sun! Craddock grinned afresh 'til Gwyln said, quietly, "Such as we are here were our cousins to the South but a short span passed."
Craddock rounded on him, but saw the sadness in his face and knew the truth of his statement. "Aye. Then let's about this business!"
Sat about the hearth it was still and quiet. Hardly a movement, ne'er a word. Lleu stared at the base of that fire while all waited for his answer to Craddock's question. Over a hour they had sat and talked slowly at first, Lleu was wary of this unexpected meeting and the great war bands milling around outside his home. Owyn had eased the tension step by step and found common ground to make the path easier but Craddock was wavering in his impatience and be 'about this business' and Owyn could see it.
"Lleu, we are here to extend this land's hospitality to you as you have enjoyed it and have no thought otherwise, but we need your assistance if we are to be in a position to continue to offer anything to any man in one year's time. My Lord Craddock must know how these Romans make war if we are to withstand their advance and all too little of this knowledge is ours. Can you help?" Owyn hoped he had not been overly early under Craddock's pressure, he knew little of this great man and had previously spoken to him only on matters of the Land and the spirit.
"I am no warrior," Lleu sighed, " what would I know that could help your Lord?"
Craddock eased his weight to look the man straight in the eye, " Very little would be far more than we have now! I need everything, small or grand, that you and your good followers can tell me, however small a point it might seem it may be a point I can use to spear a Roman!" Very eloquent thought Owyn and smiled to himself. All watched Lleu as he stared at the fire. Slowly he shifted weight but didn't let his eyes leave the fire. " I thought to leave all this behind when coming here. To bring my people from the slaughter to a free land." his voice was hushed. His eyes lifted to meet Craddock's, "But it sees that you are indeed correct, good lord, the Eagle follows on our heels and let's us no resting place. Ask your questions, question my people, learn your answers such as we can give. There is no other course for any but the blind."

Late afternoon saw much activity. Owyn had left South for Kippax with Gwalchmai leading his band to the West, heading for the ford to the west of the land. Craddock was readying his men and looking down the roadway that ran straight to his enemy. There was little risk here to any future plans, he reasoned. It was some time before the campaign season would start and whatever his actions might stir up was little compared with what would inevitably await them in the coming months. No it had to be done and Lleu's story confirmed. It was all very different to warfare as he had known it if what was told had been the reality of it, very different indeed. Hard to grasp in the hand. He was ready, had been ready for this for days, it was just that he doubted exactly what 'ready' meant. Well he had the night to debate that with himself.
Swinging across his horse he swept his eyes across his men as they mounted and waited. Time to head for, perhaps, his greatest test.

Heading his men along the trackway Craddock pondered upon his position.
The Roman force in this land they called Britain had seen several very successful campaigns. Military superiority was, in truth, marginal and due to numbers, but consistency is a big player in the conquering game. Many small principalities fell to clever tactics on the field, and larger ones to equally clever tactics behind the scenes. Bribery, blackmail, coercion were all good weapons in the Roman arsenal. Steadily they had moved north across the island taking one opponent at a time to each of their legions and annexed each region as a client kingdom. By which ever means was most effective with the presiding ruler. It was nothing new and things were going as things should.
One third of the way up the island came their greatest challenge, here were the Brigantii, coast to coast and one hundred miles deep. Warlike, relatively cohesive, adept at raid warfare as well as full field tactics and great in number. They stretched across a terrain of hills that sat north to south and rivers that ran from east to west. Each river a natural barrier with the hills splitting the advance to one side of the island or the other while giving the defenders chance to reform before or behind the invading force. A problem in truth.
To the south the tribes had been soft or easy to bribe, they were traders not raiders. Here things would be different. Twenty six long years had seen the great Roman empire-building machine grinding slowly north. Their first expansions had been easy, helped by treachery and set-piece battles. As they move into the central lowlands it had all gone very wrong due to a hero they called Caratacus. Here was the spell broken, the myth of Roman superiority evaporated. But such should have been already obvious from the fighting in Gaul over the past one hundred years, these Eagles were no gods!
But they were commanded by treacherous politicians. The Brigantii ex-queen Cartimandua had been under that spell well enough, enough to trap and capture Caratacus for her Roman paymasters. That had been some seventeen winters past, and had sealed her doom. Her regal consort-husband Venutius had stood against her on this treachery and her answer was to marry his armour bearer Vellocatus and call on her Roman friends for help to rout her ex-lover. This was the anvil upon which the Brigantii and their anti-Roman position were forged. Three years previously Brigantii had rushed to aid their Icenii cousins, so it was hardly a new position, just a change in now being an official one.
The last years had shown the difference the Roman advance had when faced with real opposition. There was much for Craddock to lean on. In eight short years they had moved from the south coast two hundred miles North to less than fifty miles South of Barrouc and had near conquered the Silures mountians to the West. Another twice that time had seen them take the mountains but hold them with great difficulty while moving less than forty more miles Northwards to the Aire river boundary. Where they sat now waiting for Spring.
Craddock wasn't waiting for them! For ten years his people had toiled to develop the Becca fortification along the line of the Cucru river. Here was his best defensive position although it meant surrendering over a third of his land to the invader before they would reach his position. To the East river, stream, lake and bog defended the land, needing but a few of the local Parisii to hold the pathways, and to the west, beyond the spinal hills, Venutius was busy with raid and counter attack, invasion and battle, depending on Craddock to hold this flank. Craddock was proud of that responsibility and trust, he would not fail if it were at all humanly possible to succeed. Venutius had learned much from Caratacus about Roman methods and tactics but the Silures had introduced the Legions to the Northern trait of hit-and-run raids which caused the Romans to also introduce new methods of defence and attack, mainly defence. This had posed the problem for Craddock as his whole defence was planned a decade past and based on traditional Roman methods of attack, how had these changed? According to Lleu they hadn't! Only their ways of dealing with raiding parties had improved and caught the Silures a few heavy blows before realisation crept in and the Silures modified their adventures. Craddock's plan was, therefore, hopefully still valid, with a few changes to the initial 'raiding' techniques to keep down casualties in the face of Roman 'improvements'.
Now it was all going into it's first stages of action. Small raids on small parties had never stopped since the first invaders came into the area. Reinforcement detachments had often been attacked, sometimes massacred, and supply columns were plundered. It had slowed the Roman concentration but far from stopped it. Now the greater part of a whole Legion was collected before his position, a Legion that might otherwise have been pushing Venutius back.

Gwyln told him he had a se'ennight to a fortnight before the thaws would come proper. In that time the lands were hard enough for horse and rider if too hard for chariot wheels to survive. His first actions had to be now while the Romans were inactive, and his next plans would be readied while the enemy could not move North against him due to the flooding rivers as the thaw melted the hill snows. Now he had to play a ruse which was everything to his plans. If the Roman commander moved west before crossing the Aire valley then all could well be lost. The area was hard to defend, wide, open, well made for fast raiding but not for stopping whole armies. The Roman commander had to be convinced that this route was not a good idea. Not a good idea at all.
Many Roman scouts had toured the area, some had even made it back to their headquarters. All told the same story; heavily defended, many palisaded villages, lots of places for ambush. And so they should tell such stories as the whole area had been allocated many times it's normal number of warriors to ensure just those kind of reports. But it wasn't enough. The Romans would not wish to advance straight across the river and the opposite wet-lands towards a natural defensive rise if any alternative at all were available to them. Now was the time to make as sure as could be that such a choice seemed better than any western possibilities. The trap was about to be sprung, always supposing that the Romans could be coaxed into taking the bait. Craddock was that very bait.

To be continued..................................

The Song of Whinny moor.

Mary Pannel. Witchcraft and execution at Ledston.

Ionan Abbey connection. Morgan's Cross

'Padfoot' and the Haunted Bridge.

Etc..

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