by Kai Roberts
Archaeologist-cum-folklorist Leslie Grinsell, who made a study of treasure legends relating to prehistoric sites, remarked, ‘It is natural that in regions where explorations resulted in finding objects of material value, folk traditions of buried treasure would develop and not only become attached to sites where treasure may have been found, but also spread to other barrows in the region and ancient monuments generally.’ Indeed, across Yorkshire legends of buried treasure are found associated not only with prehistoric burial mounds, but standing stones, waymarkers and the ruins of castle or monasteries.
It is not difficult to see the appeal of legends concerning buried treasure. The prospect of acquiring wealth, without any of the attendant labour so often involved, is attractive in any age. However, it is clear that during the medieval and early modern period, such legends were taken very seriously indeed. By 1542, so many wayside crosses and boundary markers were being pulled down in the belief that riches lay buried below, that Henry VIII was moved to enact a statute proscribing treasure-hunting. Meanwhile, local gossip often attributed the financial ascendance of certain families to the discovery of buried treasure, and ‘hill-digger’ was a popular term of abuse for the nouveau-riche of the age.
Like secret tunnels, some treasure legends came with a suggestion of historical authenticity. The Nortons of Craven were a wealthy local family in the Middle Ages believed to have hidden their fortune in Norton Tower, their hunting lodge on Rylstone Fell, prior to the family’s extinction following their support for the Pilgrimage of Grace. Similarly, during the 1745 rising, a Jacobite hoard had supposedly been buried in a curious knoll known as Silver Hill at Stanbury, a region of the county in which many members of the local gentry had been sympathetic to the Young Pretender’s doomed claim to the British throne. As late as 1899, local author Halliwell Sutcliffe noted, ‘The fields which climb this hill were well tilled aforetime through being constantly turned over in search of the treasure.’
Yet, whilst some such legends exhibit a semblance of probability, there is a far greater corpus which seem overtly incredible. Not only are these treasures located in impossible topographies, revealed or guarded by strange supernatural beings, the associated narratives also employ a body of phantasmagorical symbolism, the key to which we have long since forgotten. As a result, some of these stories appear quite impenetrable today, albeit in a pleasingly dreamlike fashion. Yet, it undoubtedly seems as if the legends are meant to encode some esoteric knowledge or some valuable moral, offering much opportunity for febrile speculation.
The ruins of Gisborough Priory, location of buried treasure. (Kai Roberts)
Certainly, in many narratives, the unobtainable nature of the treasure is emphasised. An archetypal version of these legends is attached to Gisborough in Cleveland, where a tunnel was rumoured to run over a mile from the ruined priory to a district known as Tocketts. At the midway point of this tunnel, there was supposedly a large chest of gold constantly watched over by a bird of the corvid family. When one brave individual attempted to procure the treasure for himself, he found himself ‘terribly used by its guardian, the crow, which suddenly became transformed into His Satanic Majesty.’ In later folklore, a phantom black monk prowls the priory ruins to guard the treasure against seekers.
A variation on this tale is told about the prehistoric earthwork (possibly an Iron-Age enclosure) known as Maiden Castle, on Harkerside in Swaledale. Although the treasure buried beneath was notorious, legend maintained that only one band of fortune-hunters had ever actually laid eyes on it. When they tried to open the chest, a black hen appeared and flapped her wings so violently that it put out their light, and left them unable to approach the chest. This happened three times and eventually the men had to quit. They returned the following day, but this time they were assailed by such a ferocious storm that they never even found the chest again.
Birds of some description – typically corvids or poultry – are frequently portrayed as the guardians of the treasure, although in some instances they are accompanied by other incongruous beasts. Indeed, these more elaborate narratives tend to be bizarre in several respects. For instance, a legend attached to the ruins of Kirkstall Abbey, near Leeds, tells the story of a local man who had a particularly curious experience involving a hidden tunnel, mysterious treasure and its unusual guardians.
Maiden Castle, a prehistoric enclosure above Swaledale and the location of buried treasure. (Kai Roberts)
Kirkstall Abbey near Leeds, location of buried treasure. (Kai Roberts)
This Kirkstall man had been threshing corn in the abbey grounds and as he was taking a break at midday, he observed a cavity in the ruins which he had never noticed before. Further investigation revealed an underground passage which, in the spirit of inquiry, he pursued for some considerable distance until it suddenly opened out, and he discovered himself standing in a great hall with a fire blazing in the hearth. Even more oddly, a black horse stood in one corner, behind which sat a large oaken chest with a cock watching over it.
Suspecting the chest contained treasure, the man resolved to acquire it for himself and approached. However, as he drew closer ‘t’horse whinnied higher and higher, and cock crowed louder and louder, an when he laid his hand on t’kist, t’horse made such a din, an t’cock crowed and flapped his wings, and summat fetched him such a flap on t’side of his head as felled him flat an he knowed nowt more till he came to hisself and he war lying on’t common.’ The man searched for the entrance to that secret passage many times over the years, but he was never able to find it again.
A similar, but even more surreal story is told about the ruined fourteenth-century hunting tower known as Dob Park Lodge in Washburndale. At the foot of the remains of the staircase, there is a debris-choked aperture which must once have led to the cellars, and this had long been a source of rumour and intrigue locally. One night, a notorious ‘n’er-do-well’ of the district, under the influence of alcohol, resolved to explore the tunnel and a crowd of neighbours gathered above to await his return. The brave man did not return for some considerable time, but just as his friends were starting to grow genuinely concerned, he suddenly erupted from the depths in a state of great terror.
When the man had collected himself, he explained that he had followed the passage a great distance until he began to grow weary. Yet at the very moment he had resolved to turn back, an unearthly music began to fill the air around him, and the sound so cheered him that it drew him on. He never discovered the source of that music, but eventually he stumbled into a vast room ‘as big as any church’, lit by another blazing fire in the hearth. In the centre of the room was a table with a glass set out, and against the wall a great chest bound with iron bands and three locks, above which hung a great broadsword.
Beside the hearth stood ‘a great, black, rough dog, as big as any two or three mastiffs’ and the explorer was taken aback when this creature proceeded to address him in a human voice. It said, ‘Now, my man, as you’ve come here, you must do one of three things, or you’ll never see daylight again. You must either drink all the liquor there is in that glass, open that chest or draw that sword.’ Apparently unfazed by this miraculous speech, the man surveyed his options and concluded that the chest looked too well-secured to open, and the sword too heavy for him to lift, so he opted to drink from the glass.
However, when the fluid touched his lips he found that it scalded hotter than any boiling water and, as he swigged, an invisible hand drew the sword and the lid of the chest sprang open, revealing it to be brimming with gold. Taken aback, he slammed the glass down, causing it to shatter, whereupon his lantern and the fire were instantly extinguished. The mysterious music also abruptly ceased, to be replaced by a frightful howling and yelling, whilst something right beside him began to scream. He fainted, and after coming round in the darkness, fled the tunnel as quickly as he possibly could.
Dob Park Lodge in Washburndale, location of buried treasure and a talking dog. (Kai Roberts)
Yet an
other story in this vein is told of Richmond Castle in North Yorkshire. On one of his regular perambulations around Castle Hill, local man Potter Thompson was surprised to see a cavern in the hillside that he had never noticed before. He summoned up his courage to pursue the tunnel and after stumbling through the debris-choked darkness for some time, he encountered a great boulder which seemed to have been deliberately placed to prevent further progress. However, Thompson was not deterred and succeeded in traversing the stone, whereupon he found himself in a large chamber, radiant with a supernatural light and glittering with crystals, spars and stalactites.
In the centre of the chamber, there was a rocky table upon which lay a figure wearing armour and a crown, whilst on the floor surrounding him, twelve knights were similarly prostrate. A great shield balanced next to the table and Thompson recognised the crest upon it as that of the legendary King Arthur. Clearly this was where he and his knights had been taken following the hero’s death at the Battle of Camlann, to lie in an enchanted slumber until such a time as England needed them again – a conviction first mentioned by William of Malmesbury in his 1125 work, Gesta Regum Anglorum.
Richmond Castle, resting place of the legendary King Arthur? (Kai Roberts)
The awestruck Thompson also noticed that a horn and sheathed sword hung from a wall of the cavern, and unable to resist his curiosity, attempted to draw the sword from its scabbard. As he did so, he noticed that the knights began to stir from their timeless rest and terrified by this development, he immediately replaced the sword and fled. But, as Thompson ran, a disembodied voice resounded through the tunnel: ‘Potter Potter Thompson! If thou had’st either drawn the sword or blown the horn, thoud’st be the luckiest man that ever yet was born!’ Some time afterwards, when he had recovered his nerve, Thompson attempted to return to the cavern and claim whatever fortune he had turned away from. Of course, he could never locate the opening again.
Although this is one of the few Arthurian legends in Yorkshire (he is also supposed to sleep beneath Freeborough Hill near Guisborough), the form is a familiar one. The King in the Mountain or Sleeping Hero motif is found across Europe and is associated with numerous semi-legendary figures, such as Charlemagne and Frederick Barbarossa. In the British Isles, the story is also told of Owain Lawgoch, Fionn MacCumhaill and Thomas the Rhymer, whilst King Arthur himself is reputed to be sleeping beneath various other locations including Craig y Dinas in Snowdonia, Sewingshields Castle in Northumberland and Alderley Edge in Cheshire.
A second legend is also attached to Richmond Castle, which claims that some decades after Potter Thompson’s adventure, a troop of soldiers garrisoned at the castle sent a drummer boy into a tunnel they found in the cellars, which supposedly led to Easby Abbey and was believed to contain treasure. He was to drum as he proceeded and the soldiers would trace his route on the surface by listening for the sound. They followed his progress for about a mile or so before the drum suddenly stopped. The soldiers assumed the roof of the passage had caved in on the boy and placed a stone on the surface to mark the point where he fell. It is said that at midnight on certain nights, a ghostly drum beat can be heard in the vicinity of this stone.
Freeborough Hill, resting place of the legendary King Arthur? (Kai Roberts)
Whilst legendary treasure is often represented as unobtainable by virtue of its supernatural guardians, in some narratives there are also certain rituals which must be performed to obtain the hoard successfully, and which are invariably either impossible to complete or botched at the last minute. At Beauchief Abbey near Sheffield, treasure supposedly lies in a secret tunnel running to Norton Church. This chest is not only guarded by a cock which starts to crow as soon as anybody goes near, but as S.O. Addy notes: ‘The box can only be fetched away by a white horse, who must have its feet shod the wrong way round and who must approach the box with his tail foremost. The box must be tied to the horses head and not fastened behind.’
At Middleham in Wensleydale, there are two mounds south of the castle known as Williams Hills – almost certainly the remains of a Norman motte-and-bailey. No detail is given of the nature of the treasure buried here, only that, ‘Whoever shall run nine times round without stopping shall find a door open in the mound, which will admit him to marvellous treasures.’ Circling nine times is a common stipulation to invoke spirits or gain access to the Otherworld – one writer characterises the practice as ‘unscrewing the barrier between these dual existences’ – and the association with old mounds here suggests that this was imagined as a fairy treasure.
Not far from Middleham, on the shapely hill of Addleborough, there is a prehistoric burial cairn, known as Stone Raise, beneath which a treasure is supposed to lie. Legend records that it was accidentally dropped here by a weary giant as he attempted to transport it from Skipton Castle to Pendragon Castle in the Vale of Eden. When it hit the ground, the casket sank into the earth and stones rose over it. Anybody seeking to recover the chest will encounter ‘a fairy in the form of a hen or an ape’, but they must proceed in absolute silence. If this condition is broken, the fairy will vanish along with the treasure.
Even if silence was not demanded, then in some narratives certain taboos such as cursing would undoubtedly cause a treasure-hunting enterprise to fail. The renowned fairy hill of Willy Howe, in East Yorkshire, was also supposed to contain treasure, beyond the silver cup stolen from the Still Folk by the passing farmer in William of Newburgh’s tale. William Hone’s Table Book records that a farmer once dug the Howe to uncover a large chest of gold, which he then attempted to dislodge using ‘a train of horses, extending upwards of a quarter of a mile, attached to it by strong iron traces.’ Just as it was nearly out, the farmer exclaimed, ‘Hop Perry, prow Mark! Whether God’s will or not, we’ll have this ark!’ This thoughtless blasphemy caused all the iron traces to snap and the chest to sink deeper into the hill, leaving it beyond the farmer’s reach for evermore.
Often in these legends there is the implication that mere greed debars a person from happily obtaining the treasure, but that it will be delivered to those who are truly in need. Another tale recounts how an old woman of Sexhow appeared to a neighbouring farmer after her death, and instructed the man to dig beneath a certain tree in his orchard to uncover a buried hoard. The apparition told him that he could have the silver for himself, but he should turn the gold over to her niece who was very poor. The farmer did as he had been bidden, and sure enough found the treasure; but rather than provide for the old woman’s niece, he elected to keep it all for himself.
As William Henderson writes, ‘From that day, however, he never knew rest or happiness … Every night, at home or abroad, Nanny’s ghost failed not to dog his steps and reproach him with his faithlessness.’ The end came one evening when his neighbours witnessed the farmer returning from Stokesley market, his horse galloping so furiously that it never stopped for the gate, but bounded straight over it. As he passed, the farmer was heard to cry, ‘I will, I will, I will!’ and keen observers claimed that an old lady in a black dress and straw hat sat behind him on the horse. However, when the beast finally came to a halt, only one figure was found still on its back – the corpse of the avaricious farmer.
Ghosts were not the only nocturnal visitants to reveal the location of buried treasure; dreams often disclosed such secrets. A tumulus known as Picts’ or Money Hill, near Pickhill in North Yorkshire, had long been rumoured to contain a great fortune. One of Mother Shipton’s prophecies had foretold that the village would never thrive until a local family became extinct and Picts’ Hill was cut open. Meanwhile, in the early nineteenth century, a villager had dreamt that beneath the hill stood an archway beneath which there was a black chest, secured with three locks (like that at Dob Park), containing the fabled hoard.
In 1850, the local family did indeed reach extinction as specified in the prophecy and the following year, the Leeds and Thirsk Railway Company were constructing a track in the Pickhill region. Although it was not a necessary part of t
he building work, the directors were so intrigued by the tale of the treasure that they resolved to open Picts’ Hill, and even enlisted the now very old dreamer to show them where to dig. Sadly, nothing was found other than a few cremation urns and an iron band, which may once have crested a helmet. However, the whole episode is a fine illustration of how seriously even educated men treated such legends up until the nineteenth century.
A young servant girl in Thoresby was rather more fortunate in her visions. She claimed to have dreamt that a treasure was buried in a certain place around the farm on which she worked and, sure enough, when she dug there, she discovered ‘a bronze vessel containing a great quantity of coins.’ Unluckily, the local landowner heard of the find and laid claim to it, but as the girl had already given a majority away to friends and relatives, she was forced to flee the district. According to Edmund Bogg, writing in the late nineteenth century, there were still many around Thoresby who claimed to possess coins from the hoard.
A far more fanciful story is attached to Upsall Castle in the Hambleton Hills. An old man of the district is supposed to have dreamt three nights in a row that if he travelled to London Bridge ‘he would hear something to his advantage’. He was so impressed by the persistence of the dream that he walked all the way to the capital, a distance of more than 200 miles, and proceeded to wait on the bridge for some considerable length of time. Just as he was beginning to think the journey had been a wild goose chase, a Quaker approached and asked him what he had been waiting so long for.
