Westwood and Simpson tell the tale of another frightening creature that visited an old gentleman in his bedroom at night, in South Ferriby.15 They say that the old man could never have a good night’s rest, as the curtains around his bed would draw themselves back and forth and then twist around his neck, as if to strangle him. One night other objects around the house began to move and make a terrible racket and so the man had to admit to his daughter what had been happening. He informed her that the apparition had told him he must go out that very night and meet the fiend on the hill behind the church, alone. He was too frightened to go and so ignored the order, but as he was ascending the stairs to bed that night something grabbed him on the way and tried to strangle him there and then. He agreed he would go to the hill and so the next night he set out alone, as requested, and when he returned he was visibly shaken. When his daughter questioned him about what had happened, he refused to discuss it and told her never to ask him again, but promised that it was finished and the thing would bother them no more. He was true to his word, but to what cost we shall never know.
Another strange beast that has gained notoriety in Lincolnshire is Yallery Brown. This particular story is thought to have occurred at Kirton-in-Lindsey and concerns a fellow named Tom Tiver. The tale tells that Tom was taking a stroll one summer’s evening when he heard the cries of a baby. Thinking there was an abandoned or lost child in the long grass of the field he began to search anxiously. As he neared the sounds, they changed to a small voice calling out, complaining about being trapped under a heavy stone. He continued on and came to a large stone slab in the grass and realised the voice was coming from underneath it. Even though he had heard stories of strange creatures that came out especially at night, his heart was full of pity and Tom heaved over the great stone and watched a tiny little figure crawl out. Ragged clothes fell around his yellowy-brown skin and a scowling face peered out from the folds. The creature was not particularly friendly, but did say he would be Tom’s friend for ever, since he had saved him. He also said he would grant Tom one wish for his good deed and after some thought, Tom said he would like a helping hand at his work. He thanked the tiny thing for the wish and at this the creature flew into a terrible rage. ‘Never thank me!’ he cried. When he had calmed down, he advised Tom to call for him if he ever needed any help, telling him his name was Yallery Brown. He then disappeared and the perplexed lad set off for home.
When he arrived at work the next day, he found all his tasks had been done for him already and so he just put his feet up and relaxed all day. This happened again the next day and the one after that and so on, until the other farm labourers began to get annoyed at his laziness and the fact that his jobs were being done for him. There were even rumours that little people had been seen at night doing his work, and not only that but their work was being undone! Where his buckets were filled, theirs were tipped over; while his tools were sharpened, theirs became blunt.
Seeing the discontent, Tom tried to look willing but whenever he tried to do any work he was not allowed – the broom would fly out of his hold and seemingly brush the floor itself or the plough would move away from his grasp. In the end the lad was fired from his job.
So angry was he that he called out for Yallery Brown to show himself, but when the creature did arrive he was so surprised that he politely asked for the help to cease and thanked him again for what he had done. A sinister look crossed the creature’s face and he told the boy that the help would certainly stop, but as he had said thank you again he was now stuck with the Yallery Brown dogging him through all his life! He vanished, singing an ominous song:
Wok ’s tha will,
Tha’ll niver do well,
Wok ’s tha mowt,
Tha’ll niver gain owt,
For harm an’ mischance an’ Yallery Bro-wun
Tha’s let oot theesen from unner th’ sto-wun.
Poor Tom only met with misfortune after this; he lost every job he managed to get, his marriage broke down and his children died. His own attempt at farming failed, all his crops dying, and through each disaster Tom heard the cruel laugh of Yallery Brown echoing behind him.
The Lincolnshire Life magazine narrates a story with another cunning figure who tried to ensnare a respectable maiden.16 The man in question was called Mr Fox and he was trying to court the young girl, much to her parents’ dismay, as he had a reputation for being a bit of a rogue.
On one particular day, the young lass was sent out to do an errand by her father but, before she set off, a message arrived telling her to meet Mr Fox at the crossroads in Paddy Lane on her way home later. She knew of his reputation and realised it was rather a remote place to meet him, but she was flattered by his attention and also curious to know what he wanted. After her errand, she made her way to Paddy Lane but found that Mr Fox wasn’t there. She was feeling somewhat nervous and so decided to hide from view and wait for him to arrive, so she found a tall tree and climbed up. After a while she saw Mr Fox approaching and was just about to call out to him, when she saw him bring out a spade he had hidden behind a bush. She waited to see what he was going to do with it and was amazed to see him digging what seemed to be a grave. She could only assume the grave was meant for her, so she kept very quiet and hid from him until he decided to leave. He waited a long time for the girl to show up, but when it got dark he lost his patience and stormed away in a rage. She then slipped down from the tree and ran home, telling her parents all that she had seen when she arrived. They made sure the story was passed around the area quickly and Mr Fox disappeared, no one around there ever seeing him again. Who he was or why he wanted to murder the girl are questions that remain unanswered.
It is not just creatures and strange beasts that behave in a reprehensible manner. There is a story, retold by Westwood, about the old man of Winterton.17 Mr Lacy was a very rich man with three sons and when he got older, he decided he would split his fortune between the three whilst still living, on the condition that they should each keep him for a week, in turn, until his death. The sons agreed, pleased to have his money early, but after a while they each became weary of having him with them and started to treat him badly. They were mean to him, leaving him neglected, cold and hungry and treating him no better than a dog.
The old man was getting very upset and fed up with being treated like this and so went to visit a good friend of his, who was also an attorney. His friend told him there was nothing to be done legally to enforce better behaviour. He did, however, suggest an idea to his old friend:
As you have always been good to me over the years I will lend you a strong box with £1,000 inside. Keep the box locked but at each of your sons’ houses make a show of bringing out the box and counting the money inside. Make sure you lock the box again afterwards each time, but talk about it to keep reminding them of its existence. Their greed will soon have them treating you better, especially if you add that the son who treats you the best in the time you have left will receive the greater share upon your death.
Mr Lacy liked the idea very much and received the box a few days later. He did just as his attorney friend had suggested and when his sons saw there was more money to be had from their father, they began to change their behaviour towards him. He was given the best room at each house, the nicest food, fine wine and generally treated like a king. After a month the old man went back to his attorney friend and told him of the changes. He thanked him profusely and returned the box of money to him, although he told his sons that he had hidden the money again until the day he needed it.
The sons continued to treat their father with this renewed respect for the rest of his life, all because of the promise of more money. Just before he died he told them there was no money and reprimanded them for their bad behaviour in the past, but forgave them on his death bed, even though they had acted like beasts to their own kin.
There is also a rather well-known story about Jesus Christ visiting Lincolnshire, and having a run-in with a selfish farmer who own
ed Fonaby Top farm. The story, as retold by Polly Howat,18 tells that Jesus was riding his ass through the fields near this farm, when he saw the farmer sowing some corn. He slowed down his hungry animal and enquired if the farmer could spare some of the corn for the ass. The farmer, not realising who the stranger was, lied and said that he had no corn. When Jesus asked what was in the sacks in the corner of the field, the farmer insisted they were full of stones. ‘Then stone be it,’ Jesus is said to have replied, and the sacks immediately turned to stone. Jesus went on his way but the farmer could not carry on with sowing, as he had no more corn!
The large sack stones also began to get in the way when he was ploughing later in the year and eventually he decided to move them. It was a large undertaking and took twenty-two horses in all to shift the stones from Fonaby Top down to the farmyard at Fonaby Bottom. Only then the farmer began to experience really bad luck; his crops started to fail and his cattle became ill and died, until eventually he believed the sack stones were to blame and had them taken back up to Fonaby Top. This time it only took one horse to drag them up the steep hill.
Word soon spread that the stones had some mystical properties and when it was known Jesus had passed that way, the whole story was revealed and many people came to see them. With time, the stones fell into three pieces so they are not very recognisable today, and though lying on private land they can still be seen.
Whilst visiting the area, I enquired at the farm, Fonaby Top, as to whether the stones were still visible. I was met by Mrs Rose Cole, who was extremely welcoming and invited me in for tea and homemade cakes. She kindly showed me the remains of the stones and told me that superstition around them was still prevalent today. They were half hidden in the undergrowth and she explained they had built the field boundary hedges along that section to cover the stones, so they would not be disturbed. Touching them was still seen as rather unwise. Mrs Cole even went on to tell me how her husband, Mason, had once accidentally nudged the stones with his combine harvester and broken his arm in the process!
What exactly Jesus was doing in Lincolnshire remains a mystery, although some versions of the story assert that the stranger was St Paul, not Christ. You can decide which is more probable.
FOUR
GIANTS
AND HEROES
Britain is a land awash with numerous stories of giants, such as the famous Gog and Magog giants defeated by Brutus and Corin in Cornwall. Also Wade and his wife, who built the castles at Mulgrave and Pickering by tossing a hammer between the two; the Wrekin giant from Wales who hated the people of Shrewsbury and wished to flood the town, but couldn’t find it; and the Alphin and Alderman giants who fought over a beautiful water nymph and created large hills in the peaks by throwing great boulders at each other, plus many more. Of course many of us have seen the Cerne Abbas giant, whose colossal outline can still be viewed etched into the hillside in Dorset, holding aloft his club; but did giants really exist?
Local writer Daniel Codd tells of the skeleton of a ‘true giant’ that was unearthed in 1931 under Haxey High Street in Lincolnshire – a 7-foot tall man, thought to have been a Roman soldier.1
Lincolnshire has its fair share of giant folklore; oftentimes heroes whose epic deeds have elevated them to the status of giant.
There is a legend of a heroic fisherman, named Grim, after whom the Lincolnshire town of Grimsby is supposedly named. Although dismissed by many throughout the ages as a mere fairy tale, the story was very popular, especially in the eleventh century until around the time of Elizabeth I, with many claims that its roots were firmly based in fact. One of the earliest surviving written records alluding to the legend is a poem believed to have been created during the twelfth century, ‘The Lai d’ Haveloc’. The poet does, however, claim his poem is inspired from an older source and another writer claimed he used the sixth-century monk, Gildas, as his source, possibly dating the story back as far as AD 500.
According to the tale, during an invasion in Denmark the Danish King, Birabegn, was killed and the usurper, Godard, apparently ordered Grim to drown his boy, Havelok, the true heir to the Danish throne. Grim disobeyed and escaped with Havelok on a ship bound for England, eventually landing and settling along the Lincolnshire waters, making his living as a fisherman. He brought Havelok up as his own son and told no one, not even Havelok, of the boy’s true heritage.
Havelok grew into an extremely tall and strong young man, yet kind and just – a true gentle giant. He would help his father sell and distribute fish, his great strength enabling him to carry vast amounts; more than double any other man could lift. As he grew older he found employment as a scullion to the Earl of Lincoln, where he became famous for his aptitude at sports. At stone-throwing contests it was always Havelok who managed to lift the heaviest stones and throw them further than anyone else. One such boulder he is said to have thrown can today be seen at the Welholme Galleries, aptly named the Havelok Stone.
Then Havelok bent to raise the stone…I saw his mighty limbs harden and knot under the strain, and up to his knee he heaved it, and to his middle, and yet higher, to his chest…and then with a mighty lift it was at his shoulder, and he poised it…then hurled it from him…[a] full four paces beyond the strong porter’s cast it flew, lighting with a mighty crash, and bedding itself in the ground.2
The Havelok Stone can be found within the grounds of the Welholme Galleries, Grimsby. The site is an old church, situated along the B1213, Welholme Road, between Hainton Avenue and Intax Mews.
News of Havelok’s great might soon reached the ears of Earl Godrich, who had as his ward Goldborough, daughter of the late King Athelwold. Once of age, Godrich had promised to marry Goldborough to the strongest man in the land. Athelwold, obviously meant a king or prince, but Godrich took this opportunity to marry her off to the servant lad Havelok, therefore ensuring his own son would be heir to the throne instead of her. The two were forced to marry, both resenting the fact bitterly, but fate was to thwart Godrich, as Westwood explains:
…one night she [Goldborough] saw a light shining from her husband’s mouth as he lay asleep. She saw, too, a cross on his shoulder, which the voice of an angel explained was the mark of a king, prophesying that Havelok would rule both England and Denmark.3
After questioning Grim about this secret and discovering the truth, Havelok and his new wife travelled to Denmark and overthrew Godard, Havelok claiming his rightful throne as king. Then they invaded England and defeated Godrich, apparently burning him to death. Havelok became King of England as well as Denmark, thus fulfilling the prophecy. It is told that Havelok and Goldborough lived happily ever after with their fifteen children and ruled together for sixty years.
The old seal of Grimsby depicts this tale, showing Grim as the central figure, the founder of Grimsby, with his sword and shield at the ready to defend the boy, Havelok, and the town. The hand of providence hangs above him, guiding his actions. On either side of him are Havelok and Goldborough, their crowns suspended above them indicating their royal standing. A mosaic of the seal decorates the outside wall of the Grimsby Central Library, a grand sight, except for the disabled ramp which unfortunately covers the bottom of the creation.
There is another legend of a kind-hearted Lincolnshire giant, Tom Hickathrift, whose abode was in the marshland around the Wash. Possibly of Saxon descent, he was described as a huge fellow possessing considerable strength. Polly Howat claims that at the start, Tom was rather a lazy fellow and that all he did was sit around the fire at home and eat all day, much to the exasperation of his poor, widowed mother.4 She says that at just ten years of age he was already a 6-foot tall giant, 3 feet wide, eating as much as five normal men. He did posses great strength though; he allegedly kicked a football so hard that no one could ever find it.
One day a local farmer offered Tom’s mother some fresh straw for her mattresses and told Tom to come and collect as much straw as he could carry. The poor farmer was soon eating his words, as Tom reluctantly followed him and came
home with most of the field upon his back. Soon people from far and wide knew of his strength and he was eventually bribed into taking a job with a brewer, who had him trekking twenty miles across the marshes every day with a cart load of beer.
The Lincolnshire Life magazine tells of a second giant who was living in another area of marshland and was terrorising all the locals and anyone who happened to pass through.5 He would rob them and strike fear into everyone’s heart. One day, Tom Hickathrift decided to take his cart over this area as a shortcut. The giant tried to attack him and Tom defended himself by rapidly removing the wheel and axle from the cart and using them as a club and shield. The two giants had a ferocious fight and Tom overcame his assailant, cutting off his head and leaving the villagers forever freed from his domination. Tom was labelled a hero and it is said he was called on from near and far to fight other giants who were causing trouble. Eventually he was apparently knighted for his good deeds and given the land of the first giant he fought, where he built a comfortable home for himself and his mother. Howat adds that he donated some of his land to the poor, on which they built a church dedicated to St James, as it was on the feast day of this saint that Tom had originally killed the giant.
The Grimsby seal mosaic at the entrance of the Grimsby Central Library.
Tilney All Saints remembers Tom Hickathrift’s victory by depicting his immense frame on their village sign.
Possibly the final resting place of the giant Tom Hickathrift, a large tomb-like stone, now placed just outside the east door of the Tilney All Saints’ Church.
Folklore of Lincolnshire Page 8
