Folklore of Lincolnshire

by Susanna O'Neill

  The worm-like dragons have also been depicted as serpents – and through much of history they have been linked with water: ‘On that day the Lord with his cruel and great and strong sword will punish Leviathan the fleeing serpent, Leviathan the twisting serpent; and he will kill the dragon that is in the sea.’25 In fact, it is said the English word dragon derives from the Greek drakon, meaning serpent of huge size/water snake.

  The effigy of Sir Buslingthorpe inside the small church, aptly named St Michael’s, at Buslingthorpe. The church is one of the few remaining buildings on the site of a deserted medieval village. The tower is all that survives from medieval times, the rest having being rebuilt in 1835, but the whole structure overlies the buried remains of a much older church.

  There is another tale of a defeated dragon in Lincolnshire, at Buslingthorpe, near Lincoln. The famous dragon-slayer in this instance was Sir Buslingthorpe, who died around 1250. An effigy of this knight is housed in the little church of Buslingthorpe, St Michael’s. He was thought to have attacked the ferocious dragon and killed it and for such bravery and prowess, Sir John was awarded 400 acres of local land, known as Lissington Pasture. The Lincolnshire Magazine suggests that he actually drained and reclaimed this marshy land, making it habitable, and this was how his fame arose. The fact that boggy, watery land was involved, however, seems to agree with the alleged link to serpents and worm-like dragons.

  The head of the dragon-shaped rock residing on the hillside in the small village of Dragonby. Halfway down the road through the village there is a gap in the houses on the right-hand side. A track leads onto some open ground and the dragon can be clearly seen winding its way down the hill on the right, as if heading to drink from the pond at the bottom.

  Part of the tail of the colossal stone dragon at Dragonby.

  The other dragon we briefly touched on earlier was the creature that lived at Dragonby. The legend states this beast was the guardian of some mines but was defeated by a wizard, who turned it to stone – hence the ninety foot dragon-shaped rock that can be seen snaking its way up the hillside. It is actually a natural rock formation, apparently caused by a limestone spring, but legends often attach themselves to such wonders of nature. This particular rock has another myth attached to it, one concerning the Devil. The tale states that the ‘dragon’ rock is in fact the top of a church that once stood there but sank into the ground, congregation and all – and once a year the ghostly bells can still be heard to ring. The Devil had been attracted to the village because, as Daniel Codd tells us, ‘The community had fallen into avaricious ways.’26

  He caused the church to sink and sat on the roof, laughing all the while. When the congregation tried to leave they found themselves in a long, underground tunnel which led only down, to Hell!

  TWO

  THE WET

  AND WILDS

  When thinking of Lincolnshire, picturing the extensive North Sea coastline along one border, the boundaries of the River Trent and the Humber, and the endless horizon viewed over the miles of open countryside, one inevitably imagines vast expanses of low-lying wetlands, fens and marshes. The magnificent Lincolnshire Wolds and heathland stand tall amongst the peat and silt-filled depressions of the Fens and the salt-lined marshes. The fact is that forty per cent of Lincolnshire’s land is at or below sea level, three quarters of the land lying below thirty metres. This is one of the reasons why, for many years, the Fenland was a very isolated place, difficult to get to and then hard to traverse, and so strangers mostly stayed away. It is little wonder that in such out-of-the-way places legends and folk tales arose, mingled with the history of the area, abounding with stories of strange creatures, especially those lurking in the wet and wilds! Before the eighth century, Lincolnshire was apparently described as ‘a deep and horrible fen, a strange land of fetid pools and flowing rivers, and a terrain grim enough to daunt all but the most intrepid settler.’1 The chronicler Felix of Crowland is said to have described it as, ‘A trackless waste of immense marshes and foul running streams…oft-times clouded with moist and dark vapours…the haunt of the Devil.’2

  Despite its reputation as an inhospitable wet and marshy area, Lincolnshire also had many scholars defending it. In the Lincolnshire Bedside Book, Jack Yates and Henry Thorold are quoted explaining the difference between the Marsh and the Fens:

  The Marsh is the low land of narrow dykes, meres and pools which stretches along the sea coast between the wash and the Humber. The east wind constantly blows over it from the North Sea, the water in the dykes is brackish with salt that has percolated through the sand. These are areas of rich pasture land, stiff grass and wild fowl. The Fen is not salt, nor is it near the sea except in small patches. Most of it is drained silt-land, ditched and dried out to produce rich cornland and fields for bulbs and flowers.3

  An example of what the fens could have looked like in the eighth century, although now so well drained and managed that the land would be unrecognisable to the people of that era.

  Ten thousand years ago, at the end of the most recent glacial period, Britain was joined to Europe via a Dutch province and the area around Norfolk. It is thought, from studies of the bed of the North Sea, that rivers in the southern part of eastern England flowed into the River Rhine and through the English Channel. From the Fens northwards, the drainage flowed into the northern part of the North Sea and when the ice melted, the rising sea level flooded the lower-level lands, including the Fenland basin, which had previously been dense woodland. This gradually led to the extensive salt and freshwater wetlands Jack Yates and Henry Thorold describe.

  Christopher Marlow relates an interesting alternate myth about how the Lincolnshire Fenlands were created. The story is set during the time of the Roman occupation, under the rule of the governor Valerian. Legend says that it was the Iceni tribe who suffered under his terrible rule and his treatment of them was vicious and callous. He would hack off prisoners’ ears and noses just for his amusement and then let them loose in the woods, only to be hunted down by savage dogs.

  However, he apparently went too far when he captured the local priest’s daughter, Rowena. She was known throughout the district for her beauty and the Iceni were extremely angry when they heard she was being used as Valerian’s play thing. Rowena’s father, Mandru, called for a meeting of fellow priests at the temple of the sea god, and many of the oppressed tribesmen attended. All present had grievances with the Romans, and all were in favour when Mandru suggested a rebellion. Unfortunately, however, their meeting was stormed by Roman guards who killed many, and seven priests, including Mandru, were taken to Valerian’s palace and tortured. Luckily, Mandru managed to escape but his six companions were hung on crosses to die. Mandru wept bitterly for his fellow priests and that day he swore an oath that he would help his people. He was not seen for some time but a few months later a stranger came to the area. He visited the streets of the town and whenever he came across a British Iceni slave he whispered a warning to them: ‘Friend, arise this night and be gone. Destruction comes fast upon this city and if thou tarry, there shall be no escape.’4

  On hearing this old man’s warning, many of the Iceni took heed and packed up their belongings ready to steal away in the middle of the night. Then, some time during the night, a sudden and ferocious wind blew in from the sea. It blew open the gates of the city and as every Roman was asleep, the way to escape was made clear for the British slaves. The Iceni gasped in amazement and crept out stealthily, so as not to wake the guards. When they made it to the woods, they met up with other tribes from nearby towns who had also had the warning from the mysterious stranger. As they were talking and exchanging stories, the stranger himself appeared among them and to everyone’s astonishment they discovered it was Mandru, bidding them to listen to him: ‘There is no time to delay – the gods are angry with Rome and intend to destroy every Roman city. It has been revealed to me where I shall lead you, but delay not or we shall all be lost.’ He then led them far away to the high ground.

/>   When dawn broke, the Romans awoke and were baffled by the forceful winds blowing around the city, and then they discovered the gates were wide open and the slaves had all escaped. They were furious but the force of the tempest now raging round them prevented them tracking down the escapees. The soldiers became even more enraged when Valerian ordered them to do all those tasks commonly allotted to the slaves.

  As the day progressed, a curious cloud-like phenomenon was observed over the sea. The Romans flocked to try and see what it was but no one could make it out. The longer they watched, however, the more the strange mass seemed to resemble a huge column of water, rising higher and higher out of the sea as it came closer and closer. Then a messenger came from the shore to tell of a mountain of water rushing towards the town. Everyone dashed outside to look and ‘…in truth the column appeared at the very least 300 feet high, and seemed as if all the ocean were gathered up into it.’

  The terrified Romans fled into the forest where they met other Romans from other cities, who were also trying to escape the menacing torrent. There was no escape, however, and the colossal waves crashed into the cities, destroying Valerian’s palace as well as all the houses and streets. It swept away all traces of Roman supremacy and then it rushed through the forest, washing away all the trees and swallowing up the hills and rivers. High in the upland range, the Iceni watched the sea smash against the ground below them, obliterating everything in its path, but fortunately they were high enough up and the waves abated just below them, sparing their lives. They looked down in awe on what used to be thick forest and now appeared to be a huge inland sea, with small islands appearing here and there. The Iceni rejoiced and Mandru shouted out:

  We of the Iceni are the first to repeople the wilderness…and these parts shall never more become forest. The sea, our great deliverer, shall always be present here, in token whereof it has been decreed that we shall be known henceforth as Gyrvii or marsh-men, in place of Iceni, the slaves of the Romans.

  This is the legend of how the Fens and marshland originated and the people who lived there became some of the best fishermen and wildfowlers that lived. Marlow does add that the Romans re-conquered the area but not to the extent that they had before the floods. Efforts to tame the Fens were attempted, with banks and roads winding their way through the area but it remained for centuries the haunt of fish and birds with many islands surrounded by marshy wetland.

  Of course there is evidence to suggest that humans populated the area from the Mesolithic period, before the Iceni and the Roman times. The low-lying wetlands would have been seen as an advantageous area to live, hunting and fishing being vital activities for survival. Sources suggest the area was also favoured by warriors because it formed a naturally safe area. Their homes, surrounded by water, were easier to defend.

  Around the fifth century, during the time of King Vortigern, the Saxons were given the Fenlands in Lincolnshire to inhabit. Hengist and his brother Horsa had asked Lord Vortigern to give them homes, as they had been exiled from Germany. Vortigern, thinking they were savages but could be useful for protection, gave them land in Lincolnshire. McLeish tells us that Vortigern hoped that the draining of the marshes and muddy fields and fens would use up all their energy and leave them no time to be a threat to him. One day Hengist asked if he could build a castle in Lincolnshire, ‘…as large as can be encircled by a single leather thong and let me invite more of my followers from Germany, enough to fill it’.5

  Vortigern envisaged how short leather thongs were and thought it would be a tiny castle with just a small number of soldiers, and so gave permission. Jennifer Westwood quotes Abraham de la Pryme, describing the story in the 1600s:

  …Hengist begg’d so much ground of King Vortigern as he was able to encompass with an ox-hide, who, not well understanding his meaning, granted him his request, thinking that he meant no more than he could cover with an ox-hide. But Hengist cut it all into small thongs, and by that means encompast in round about a great compass of land, and built an exceeding strong castle upon part thereof, part of whose ruins I took notice of, it being a wall five or six yards thick. But, when Christianity came, they pull’d the castle down, and built the church in the place where it stood, of the stone that it was built off.6

  McLeish explains how the thong was put to such good use:

  At once Hengist slaughtered the largest bull in Lincolnshire, and set his butchers the task of slicing the hide into a continuous thong as thin as a woollen thread and over a kilometre long. He used it to measure out the land for a castle, and when the castle was built he brought from Germany eighteen long-ships filled with warriors, and with them his daughter, the witch, Renwein.

  Renwein was very attractive and her hand in marriage was offered to Vortigern, in exchange for the county of Kent, including Vortigern’s own castle. Vortigern fell under her spell and agreed not only to this but also to allow more warriors from Germany to inhabit the countryside around the Humber. The British people, however, were beginning to panic about the number of Saxons in the country and their loyalties switched to Vortigern’s son, Vortimer. They gathered an army and attacked the Saxons, defeating them in four bloody battles. Hengist fled back to Germany and Vortimer went to visit his father and stepmother to discuss the future of Britain. The witch, Renwein, however, put poison in his goblet and he died a slow and painful death. Once Vortigern regained his power and was back on the throne, Renwein sent word to Hengist to return. This he did with many warriors and this time he won the battles and the Saxons ruled Britain, pillaging and destroying anything British, so the work of draining the Fens was never completed.

  Thus, as Stewart Bennett tells us, travel through medieval Lincolnshire was very difficult because of the amount of water, making its relative isolation even more pronounced:

  The only reasonable roads were those left by the Romans although, as they had been neglected for over 700 years, they had fallen into disrepair. Rivers were mostly navigable all year round, but roads were liable to floods in the winter only to dry out, causing deep ruts, in the summer. As much of the county was low-lying, travel in the Fens and marsh during winter months was at best difficult, and often impossible.7

  The Lincolnshire wetlands were finally drained by Cornelius Vermuyden and his followers in the seventeenth century. The indigenous Carr people hated these Dutch intruders as they were taking away the livelihood of fowling and fishing, which they had been doing for so many generations. There were many murders during the draining days and the Carr people used the legend of the Tiddy Mun as an ‘explanation’ for the deaths.

  Polly Howat relates the story of the ‘Tiddy Mun Without a Name’. He was a creature who lived in waterholes in the Fens, only coming out at night. He had the appearance of an old man, with long white hair and a beard, but he was only the size of a small child. He wore grey so that he was difficult to see at dusk, his laugh sounded more like a screech and no one ever knew his name. He had a strange relationship with the people of the Fens, for although they were wary of him he would help them when the flood waters came. The people would call to him, ‘Tiddy Mun, without a name, the water’s rough!’8

  In the morning the flood water would have gone, as the Tiddy Mun had taken it away, and they knew he would always be good to them as long as the Fens remained. However, with the influx of the Dutch and the draining work they were doing, local people were scared that bad times were ahead.

  Then drainers began to disappear and word was that the Tiddy Mun had drowned them. More workers were brought in and they too were drowned, but after a while it wasn’t just the Dutch drainers that were vanishing, the Tiddy Mun was angry with everyone for destroying his home. Children and animals succumbed to illness, crops failed and life started to go wrong for everyone. After much discussion the people agreed some water must be returned if the Tiddy Mun was to be appeased and so the locals took pans of water out on the night of the new moon and offered them to him, asking for a truce. They waited in silence for a long time u
ntil eventually they heard his screeching laugh and they knew they had forged a pact. For many years after this night, the local people offered the Tiddy Mun water at every new moon and peace was maintained.

  Adrian Gray says that the Tiddy People were a race of strange creatures that lived in the wet and marshy areas. He agrees that they were very small, like children, or even babies, but with long thin arms and large feet. They reputedly had long noses and wide mouths with long tongues. Instead of grey, he believed they wore green coats, hence the nickname ‘greencoaties’, often with a yellow bonnet. The Tiddy Mun was similar to a tribal chief and Adrian Gray recounts a rhyme people apparently chanted in the Fen areas:

  Tiddy Mun wi’out a name

  White he’ad, walking la’ame

  While the watter te’ems the Fen

  Tiddy Mun’ll harm nane.9

  The Tiddy People were very useful for everyday life. It was they who would pinch the buds on the trees in spring to make them open and would paint the colours on the flowers every year. Farmers would leave small gifts for them so their crops would not be harmed and people thought it an honour if the Tiddy People came into their houses to warm themselves by the fire. They have hardly ever been seen though, since the draining of the Fens and all the trouble with the Dutch workers, so where they have found a suitable home is a mystery.

  Will-o-the-Wisps, or Will-o-the-Wykes in Lincolnshire, also known as Jack-o-Lanterns, corpse candles or ignis fatuus in Latin, translating as ‘foolish fire’, are mysterious, ghostly wisps or lanterns of light, seen hovering over marshy lands, usually at twilight. Myth tells of strange fairies or ghosts of the dead creating these torches, although some scientific theories explain them as gases, produced by the organic decay in the wetlands, causing a glowing light. Of course, with such an eerie phenomenon, stories of these peculiar lights abound throughout folk lore, usually including legends of people being lured off the main path, following the lights, and never being seen again. The Lincolnshire Fens were one such place where these ethereal lights were seen, and warnings to stay away from them were whispered throughout communities.