Series 7 Episode 9: Glamorganshire

[Music] There were three ravens sets on a tree, down, a down, hey, down, a down. There were as black cast they might be with a down. One of them said to his mates, "Where shall we our breakfast take?" With a down, very, very, very, down, down. [Music] Imagine wondering, long miles and miles of unspoiled natural coast, overlooked by dramatic lift-ups, then dipping in to explore peaceful countryside and woodlands through the veil. [Music] Hello and welcome back to a brand new episode of Series 7 of the Three Ravens Podcast. Great! I'm Eleanor. I'm Martin. Somehow we're already halfway through February. Not sure how that happened, which means that after this episode, we will be down to our final four historic Welsh counties, which is quite exciting. We have nearly journeyed all over Wales, Eleanor, all from the comfort of the Ravens nest. We have, and in today's episode, we'll be plunging down to Glermorganshire in the south of Wales, to explore the area around Cardiff, Wales's capital, and the coast along the Gowup Peninsula, which looks south to Brittany. We'll be finding out all about Glermorganshire's past heroes. It's incredibly ancient archaeological finds. It's helpful ghosts and violent fairies, along with the most unusual thing I think I've ever found in folklore. That's all before I tell my story for today. A gothic tale of a place which deserves an infinitely bad trip of Pfizer review. Before that, though, we have some wonderful people to thank who signed up to our Patreon this week. Sue and Adam. All hail Sue, King of Patreon. All hail Adam, King of Patreon. If you too would like to join Sue and Adam and be hailed as King, along with accessing all the delightful extras on our Patreon, including totally add-free listening, exclusive episodes including stories and the Three Ravens film club, and more, you can join us at patreon.com/Three RavensPodcast. We have got some exciting updates to our Patreon coming in March, including a new style newsletter, which we'll be talking about during our March update episode as you might expect. So I'm happy to say that I have actually been to Glermorganshire and you have two, haven't you? Yes, I have. I've been to Cardiff. I've had times in Glermorganshire. I have family-based in Cardiff. So of all the Welsh counties, it's the one I've been in the most, although I've not explored it particularly. I've sort of just stayed in the capital. By contrast, I have actually not been to Cardiff. I've been to Swansea. Well, it's a likes. I saw the statue of the poet Dylan Thomas and I went for a gorgeous walk along the mumble's beach to the lighthouse. I would certainly go back because I was only there for a weekend sometime ago. So I think I missed some of the sights I would probably like to have seen. And were there lots of swans on the sea in Swansea? I can't say they were, Martin. Because there isn't that many diffs on the cars as well in Cardiff. So I don't know, I feel like both of these places are misnamed. Would I be writing guessing that this has been one of the easier historic Welsh counties to research, Eleanor, as it's where the capital is and it's pretty accessible by road and rail? Yeah, that's certainly true. And Glermorganshire is still pretty much Glermorganshire. Oh, isn't it? Hasn't changed. Yeah, it hasn't changed a whole lot though. It has absorbed some towns from other counties. It is more commonly known these days as simply Glermorgan, rather than Glermorganshire. And it is divided into sort of mid-glermorgan, self-glermorgan and so forth. It has a flag. Hey! It is a splendid design of three silver chevrons on a scarlet red background and that's also featured on the flag of Cardiff being carried by a dragon. Which I think makes it infinitely and instantly cool. It is actually an old flag as well. The design was the arms of Yeston at Gurgent, who was the last ruler of the Kingdom of Morganic as it was known prior to becoming Glermorganshire. I will talk more about Yeston in a bit. Okay, we are starting strong. We have a flag with a history before we even teleported our way to Wales. Is there a county motto as well? There is. It is. And pardon my pronunciation here. This one's a bit tricky. A Theothevus Aolvi, which means he who suffers triumphs. Oh, gosh. That's intense. Yes, intense. That also dates back to Yeston at Gurgent. Something which might interest you though is the insults taffy, which used to be used to describe Welsh people. It is an insult. It originates with the Glermorganshire area. They have read about this. Dear listener, if you've not encountered the name taffy, it is considered a slur. It was largely popular in the English counties bordering Wales, particularly post the Industrial Revolution. And it all started in Glermorganshire. Well, kind of. So Cardiff is built on the river taffy. Right. But it's also a mispronunciation of the name David, or David, which is pretty common. The pronunciation added a common name as well. But taffy as a slur gained popularity after the printing of a rhyme which caused dispersions on the character of the Welsh in general. That was published first in 1780. It was only had a single verse and it was added to later to provide more insulting verses. It was of course written by an English person and published in Nancy Cox's pretty song book. I don't know if Nancy Cox herself wrote it or if that was a pseudonym. And the rhyme is called taffy was a Welshman. It is basically about what a terrible thief and crook taffy the Welshman is, isn't it? Yeah, it's really not very nice. It's not good. It's like calling an Irish person a paddy. It's essentially a name which is a little bit like a common name, but it's a symbol for negative cross-border relations shall we say. Did you have thematically put? Yeah. Apparently some of the English border counties rather mainly used to sing this rhyme on Sir David's Day and parade unflattering effigies of Welshman decorated with leeks. There's a surprising amount of Welshman in art with leeks in their hat. And I thought this was always like a racist symbol, but no apparently proud Welshman did use to wear leeks in their hat around this sort of period of time, which is pretty interesting. I mean I think the whole taffy thing may have been more around when we were growing up. We haven't mentioned it on the podcast so far, so kind of here it is. Yeah, I certainly heard it more when I was a child. I haven't heard anybody calling a Welsh person a taffy for a while. And that's as it should be because it's intended to be insulting. Yeah. So that wasn't very nice. So for something slightly more pleasant, I do have a Saint Forrest. Holy reassuring. Saint Tyle, who's the patron saint of Cardiff, and also a fruit trees and taurses. Wow, that's a random collection. Yeah, all unrelated apparently. It is actually even quite close to his actual Saint's Day by accident rather than design. Yeah, but in Wales, he's celebrated on the 9th of February. So we've just missed Saint Tyle's Day. Oh, that says. Well, I happy belated Saint's Day 2 Saint Tyle, and what was the deal with Saint Tyle? It must have been quite an interesting life to combine fruit trees and horses with Sainthood. And especially exciting life, actually, as Saint's go. It was okay. I mean, no Grand Ingrossum martyrdom or particularly dramatic miracles. It's got a dubious dynasty. He may possibly have been related to Caradage. Oh, yeah. And we talked about in our Cardigan's Share episode, Saint David and various others. But our old friend Edward Williams, otherwise known as Yo Lone Morgana, got his hands on Tyle Lone and popped him into some of his made up manuscripts. So we're not actually sure. Okay, well, if I only has anything to do with Saint Tyle Lone then I'm not sure that Saint Tyle Lone's existence can be trusted in at all. That may be so. But he definitely probably travelled to Brittany. And there's a place in Brittany named after him. And may have had such adventures as battling an Irish pirate, but all the Welsh Saints did that. And Taming a winged sea dragon in Brittany. What's amazing. That's a miracle. He got it to certain Iraq and in the sea and chained it there. Oh, they just stayed still for long enough. I don't know if he really chained it or if he just captured it. But a fun thing about Tyle Lone is that after his death on the 9th of February 560, or thereabouts, he left three bodies behind. What, like John Wick? You left a trail of bodies behind. No, his, his one dead body miraculously became three identical dead bodies. Interesting. I mean, I can see the benefit of doing that for local churches. Yes. For obvious reasons, they can share out all the bones, which means, you know, this. Yet more evidence that there is a true relic of Saint Tyle Lone here and here and here and here. But yeah, I find this a little bit hard to understand. Why did God in his miracles make three of Saint Tyle Lone's corpse? Was it like a printing arrow? Yeah, who knows either way? He's got shrines and relics at Khandaakathirjo, Khandailo Fawar and Penaliabi, and apparently miracles were witnessed at all of them. So all the bodies seem to be legit in some regard. - Well, I thought I'd done all my beard scratching in our recent episode on Spiritualism, but it turns out, Eleanor, I had more in me yet. (laughing) - More beard scratching. All right then Martin, let us leave the three bodies of St. Tyler alone and have no further dealings with them. Are you ready to sail the good ship raven along Swansea Bay to the Gower Peninsula and explore the Morgenshire? - I am indeed taking the top sail, boop boop. - Tally Ho! (singing in foreign language) - The Morgenshire is located in South Wales. It was historically boarded by Brett Noxier to the North, Monmouthshire to the East, the Bristol channel to the South and Camarthenshire to the West. Cardiff was the original county town of Glamorgan and is now the capital city of Wales with Swansea as another major city. - As ever, there's a map on the blog showing its location as a historic county, along with lots of beautiful pictures of the places that we're talking about in this episode and links to find out more about them. That's at threeravenspodcast.com, which has recently had a revamp. So go on, check it out, spoil yourself and look at some bits of Glamorganshire while you're at it. - So the original Glamorganshire area was divided into three geographical bits. And they are quite varied and I think it's quite a good way to help picture what it's like if you've never been. So the northern part of the county is quite mountainous. The very southern edge of the Bracken Beacons, the Bannai-Brakheniog, which we talked about in more depth on a Bannai-Brakheniogshire episode that's there. And there are deep narrow valleys around the rivers Rumny, Taft, Dair and Ronda. North Glamorgan's area grew a great deal during the industrial revolution, thanks to the coal industry primarily in those valleys. And in the north you've got towns like Abadair, Kairphilly, Pontiprid and Mertetidfield. - All quite famous. - Yeah. - So you've probably have heard of one or more of those towns. They've also got the highest point in the whole of Glamorgan up there, the highest mountain. - Yeah. - Craggy Flynn, which stands at 600 meters as a respectable mountain. - It's a good name as well, Craggy Lynn. (laughing) Suggest you know, in English. Sure, Lynn's a bit Craggy, big old hill. But yeah, so it seems to me that actually Old Glamorgan's share is full of places that the English might be quite familiar with, which makes a bit of sense because it is in that southern part of the country, right? - Yes. - It's interesting though that there are so many mountains 'cause I thought that that part of South Wales was more known for its coast and must therefore have been a bit flatter. But no? - Well yeah, but I mean the coast is obviously a big part of it. The Galapin insulator in the Southwest is an area about standing natural beauty. I think it's there, it's most possible to get an idea of the ancient landscape. - Right. - The industry didn't operate so much there, so the beaches and the cliffs are very unspoiled. And over that way you've got settlements that includes Swansea of course, and Nief and Potalbert. - Yeah. - Potalbert obviously did see industry due to the massive steelworks there, which is the biggest steelworks in the UK. And actually one of the biggest in the world is there. - It's been on a kind of knife edge over many years about what's gonna happen to the Potalbert steel industry and all of that sort of stuff. Thank goodness for right now things are going okay. - Yes, it's still open at the moment. - It makes you feel sick inside with worry. - Oh, it doesn't know when you hear the names of any of the British steelworks come up in the news. - Yes, yeah. And maybe we're doing a little bit to advertise that the Potalbert steelworks in some way. - Potalbert steel. - If they did not sponsor the episode. - They did not anyway. And they probably are very thankful for us saying by their steel, 'cause you probably can't as just like a regular person trying to build things. But hey, oh. - Then over to the southeast of the county. There's a limestone plateau. That's the Vale of Glomorgan, which is a modern county borough of the Vale of Glomorgan. So that's an administrative area. And from port called to Cardiff, that's kind of the most agricultural area of the county. - Yeah, so I think we've got an idea of the county in three parts and that these three parts all have quite different characters. - We'll hear more about what it's like to actually live in and travel through Glomorganshire on Saturday in my local legends interview. I'm gonna be speaking to Caff Little, who's a Glomorgan-based storyteller and the author of Glomorgan Folk Tales for Children. So we'll be able to hear first hand about the landscape and legends of the county then. - Excellent. All right, Eleanor, so I'm getting so far that the actual area of Glomorganshire is pretty robust. As in, it's remained fairly well the same, even after the abolition of the 13 original historic counties of Wales in 1974. But what is the earliest history we have of this part of the country? - Super, super early. - Really? - It's been inhabited by humans for over 200,000 years. - What? - Yeah. Although due to major climate fluctuation and, you know, ice ages within that time, the terrain has reformed a fair bit as you can imagine, but there's definite evidence of Neanderthal presence in Glomorganshire. Plus, 19 neolithic chambered tombs have been discovered, along with five possible hinges. - Okay, so this is quite the place for ancient history. - Yeah, definitely the place for ancient history and also for Bronze Age history. There are over 600 Bronze Age barrows and kens all over Glomorgan. - Excuse me? - Yeah, over 600, isn't that incredible? - That is. - And loads of amazing artifacts have been found. - Ah, I mean, in early Britain, South Wales was occupied by the Siloeros tribe. We talked a bit about this in our brief introduction to Wales at episode zero of series seven. And they put up significant resistance against the Romans. - Yeah, the Siloeros tried, didn't they? - Yeah, they definitely did. And they were probably the most effective in all of Wales for surviving. The initial resistance was led by Caracticus, who we've talked about before, but the South Welsh territory was where he first fled from England. - Yeah, he ended up there first. - Yeah, the Romans continued to have a massive problem with the Siloeros who violently rejected attempts to dominate them by surrounding the Legion, trying to build forts in their territories. They were pretty much unconquered in the end and managed to actually defeat the second Legion. - Yeah, which is very impressive. - It is. But rather than being eventually defeated as a whole, it's more likely that the Siloeros agreed to cooperate with the Roman administration, found peace through diplomacy, and of course, the Romans then did settle in the area and set up fortresses and things like that. - It seems like that was the best path for all concern to choosing to cooperate. - And then I think like the people in, for example, are part of the world around here, just keep resisting the Romans while they occupy what's going on. I still come back to that fact about Hastings, where the Romans poured all of this money into building incredible harbor Hastings, and the Hastings gas eventually would just like so frustrated and so frustrating to the Romans that the Romans left. Well, we can't be bothered with this. - Yes, we don't even like Hastings. (laughing) - Whereas I'm sure they loved Glamorganshire. - Yeah, well, I think it probably would have done because it has lots of natural resources and it's very useful, linking them to the rest of Wales. - Oh, of course, yeah. - Yeah, imagine they were pretty keen to get their stinking Roman hands on that one. (laughing) But post-Roman occupation, the Glamorganshire region was known as Gluising. - Okay. - I hope I'm pronouncing this thing. - Gluising. - Big gluising. After a fifth century king named Gluise. - Uh-huh. - But it was known as the Kingdom of Morgano by the eighth century, after its king Morganap, off-thwiss, and not anything to do with King Arthur, probably, and it was a major kingdom of Wales - Right. - The Kingdom of Morgano. As such, and because of its location close to Southeast England, it was pretty attractive to the Norman. - Yeah. - Are they the story of how the Norman's got the Kingdom of Morgano? It's pretty embarrassing. - Ooh, interesting, embarrassing how? Like, did the Kings of Morgano lose it in a bet? Or something? Was that dance off? - So the story goes that yes, an ab-go-gant, the last ruler of Morgano, whose arms are still on the flag. - Yeah. - You can decide if you think that's a good idea. He had a dispute with a rival, an-y-in-up colon. And rather than just resolve it sensibly between them, yes, then decided it would be a great idea to invite the Norman Lord Robert Fitzhammon and his 12 knights to his seat of power, near what is now modern day kind of, and get them to help settle it. - Yeah. - And then they just didn't leave. - Oh, wow. So like, no big battles, no. Heroics, just Normans invited. - Yep. - And then never left. - Never left. - Never left, the worst guess ever. - Looks to me like, come, like your little settlement, there's growing a bit larger than we originally talked about. Well, you know, there's more of us coming over all the time. So, yeah, gotta keep building bigger walls. - Yep. They sat there and then they deposed Yeston about 1080. [LAUGHTER] And then Robin Fitzham and quietly established the Lordship of Blomorka. Oh, no. So he didn't actually have at that point what's all the territory now. Oh, no. The Gower Lordship was separate at that point. We didn't have the bit with the Gower Peninsula in it. And the Marche Lords left loads of castles scattered across Glomorgan, many of which are still around today, which is nice. Yeah. Despite plenty of them being targeted by Owen Glendard during the Welsh revolt in the 15th century, actually Owen really had to go at Glomorgan. Owen had a go at everywhere. Yeah. He hated things stacked on top of other things. That's my theory. Do you think that's it? Yeah, I think that he just had a natural urge within himself. Fakes down. Yeah, there are those people like someone who'll be carefully in the corner of a room, building a card tower. And then someone will come over and knock it. So, when Glendard was the person who knocked it over. I think he was that guy. Well, he pretty much destroyed Cardiff. Classic. Yeah, so in 1404 when Owen swept in like a wrecking ball, Cardiff was largely built of wood. Yes. The most of the buildings were wooden. Right. And he sat fire to it. Aha. He did get hold of the castle, though. He took that one over. I have to imagine that if you are Welsh, your love of Owen Glendard must be quite complex. Complicated, definitely. He definitely has hurt you in the past. He has hurt you. But there's a statue of him in Cardiff. I think it's in one of the council buildings. Even though he sat fire to Cardiff in 1404. Yeah, as we've covered on previous episodes, killed a lot of Welsh people. Yeah. And then presumably we got the laws in Wales acts of 1535. And as Gower get pulled into the county at that point. Yeah, there was a bit of regiagol like in 1535. Yeah, because Monmouthshire gained some bits of the Lordship of Glamorgan. Monmouthshire has discussed a little bit English. It's so interesting. She's getting a financial treatment there. Yeah, but this notion of a king just coming in and going, no, you're actually not your own independent thing. You're just part of this wider area now. Yeah. Gower, people must have been cheese dogs. I think they were, rather, a sweet amount of castle. Yeah, what are you going to do with Henry VIII, though? Yeah, not a great deal at that point in time. You can really disagree with. It wasn't a very lucky thing to do. No, fair enough. And so you mentioned already that Glamorgan show was an important centre for industry during the Industrial Revolution. I mean, had that always been the case that people learned that there was coal under the ground. Early, for example, that they did in the black country. So originally the main thing in the region was agriculture. OK. Though there was some copper smelting in Swansea and Nief, that increased hugely from the early 18th centuries. The copper was a massive deal that area. And pretty soon it was discovered that Glamorgan show had incredibly rich resources of iron and steel and coal as well. So massive amounts of structural change took place, including the transformation of Cardiff and Swansea into major ports, which they hadn't really been before. So all the way throughout their 18th century and right up into the 19th century, until the 1880s, actually, Glamorgan show completely dominated the copper industry. That's so interesting, the copper industry. Because we often talk about the importance of Cornish tin, Cornwall being one of the rarest places in the world to find tin. It's just not something that particularly back in the Bronze Age, where of course people combined copper with tin to make bronze. There's much more effective alloy for using weapons and simple machinery and things back in the Bronze Ages. It made sense that there was a kind of Celtic union at that point in time between Cornwall and, well, Dunonia, I guess, up into Wales. It's interesting, though, that the copper industry continued right through, almost the whole way through the 19th century. It was major. But it started to go wrong. Yes, it starts to go wrong very quickly in the 1880s. So basically, it had just become much, much cheaper to ship copper off from abroad. So the Glamorgan copper works just couldn't compete. Oh, no. And as we went into the 20th century, it fell on very hard times. And then you had things like the General Strike in 1926. And then a massive depression between the two wars, which left Glamorgan with these incredibly high unemployment rates. That's kind of astonishing, though, isn't it? Because what you've described is, like, 50 years of time, during which you've gone from Cardiff being this place that was-- it must have been part of the envy of the world, right? If it was the top copper exporting place in the world, then within 50 years, you've lost your booming economy and it's become a depressed area. Yeah, I think it must have been very shocking for the local character. So for instance, in 1932, so between the wars, the unemployment rate in Glamorgan was 40%. Oh, Mike, that's crazy. Isn't it 40%? And so did things pick up again after that? So did a big problem with that part of the South Wales valleys was that most people there were involved in primary production. Right. So not the manufacture of finished products. So when manufacturers were getting their materials from elsewhere, it left Glamorgan sharing a real pickle because of the primary production. Yeah, yeah. And the ports were able to keep things going for the area. And actually, things did pick up a bit in World War II. Interestingly, coal miners in Glamorgan share in World War II were actually conscripted due to the demand for coal. That's really-- I don't think we've heard of that happening anywhere else. No, so obviously conscription into the armed forces we've heard of, but around that time in that area, people were conscripted into mining because it was so essential. I mean, I remember Mike Great Uncle Howard, who's passed away now, describing how all of the railings on all of the beaches around the South Coast in Dorset and Somerset and so on, were all cut down so they could melt the metal down to make weapons in this country. So yeah, I think we lose perspective on quite how important it was that everybody just teamed up and gone with helping the war at the top. Connected their milk bottle tops. Yeah, quite right. Yeah, I mean, it kind of makes sense if you are going to have conscription at all. Yeah. Then it could also be in the areas which support the work of the armed forces. It makes sense. It didn't really make sense. Yeah, but nonetheless, if you were a coal miner, who didn't want to do that work, would have been pretty grim to be a conscientious objector. Yeah, I'm not sure you could be a conscientious object in coal miner. Well, maybe you can, or the feather wouldn't stay very white for very long. It would not. And things kept going pretty badly in the second half of the 20th century with only the ducks that put out that managing growth. Oh. And it is now the second largest exporting port in Wales after Milford Haven in Pembrokeshire, which we talked about in that episode. That is fascinating, because, you know, Glamorgan's thought pretty hard to get back on the cultural map. How do you tear? Yeah. You got things like the Wales Millennium Centre, the Cardiff Bay development. I think the National Museum of Wales is also in Cardiff, isn't it? It is, though, the National Library of Wales isn't typical. Oh, right. And it claimed that Cardiff's population was too non-well. Oh. And it didn't deserve the National Library. OK. Interesting, though. Cardiff had been the county town for centuries. It was only granted city status as late as 1905. Yeah. It wasn't the city until then. Crazy. But it does have loads of cultural sites. And obviously loads in those of history. And it has been a centre of power as the county town. It's absolutely fascinating. It's a very strange county. OK, it is quite strange. You know, you've got this blend of incredible history and heritage sites on the one hand, and then an extraordinary industrial boom and depression and enduring depression on the other. Yeah, I think it's fascinating. Yeah. But there are still loads of amazing places to see, like Cardiff Castle, Caffely Castle, St Donuts Castle, Castle Cock, and loads of treasures to see in the National Museum, because of all of the archaeology. Speaking of which. [MUSIC PLAYING] All right, Martin. We've had some pretty diverse treasures so far. We have. And last week, you proposed a mountain. Well, not necessarily the whole mountain, Eleanor, just the top bit. All right, the top bit of a mountain. But I felt the things were getting a bit abstract. OK. And we drifted a little away from genuine treasures what you can see in museums. So for this week's Treasure of Wales, I went back to archaeology. To a discovery which was made in 1823 in Pavaland Cave, also known as Goat Hall Cave. This cave is on the Gow Up and Insulin. It's quite close to Swansea. Yes, this treasure had better not be goats though, Eleanor, because Goat Hall Cave is not an encouraging name. The treasure is not goats. It is the red lady of Pavaland. Oh, the red lady of Pavaland. And she's knocking around still. I mean, if I'm not allowed mountains, you're definitely not allowed, ladies and red. She's not just a lady in Red Martin. She's an upper paleolithic skeleton. Died in red ochre, who was buried in the cave approximately 32,000 BC. OK, hold on. So that's 34,000 years ago? Yes. Yes. I mean, that's old. It's crazy, isn't it? It's very old. And you said the skeleton is dead. - Died red. - Yeah, it's dyed red due to this high quantity of red ochre in the earth. - Oh. - It's got to the spherid in. Stain the bones very, very deep. - I-- - Because it's red skeleton. - I thought it might have been something to do with how she was buried. I, they sort of covered her in ochre and then buried her. But it seems like that. - No, it seems like it's just where she's buried. - But it's quite startling to look at these red bones. - I'm bad. - Yeah. And so the bones were found by William Buckland, who was the professor of geology at Oxford University. He was alerted to the possibilities around the site by some locals who discovered what they thought were the bones of elephants. - Nice cool. - And Buckland thought this is an 1823. He thought the red lady was actually Roman. But he also discovered loads of decorative items round her like perforated seashell necklaces and jewelry card from mammoth task ivory. - What? - It was elephant was actually mammoth task. - Can you imagine what it would be like to encounter something like that for the first time coming out of a cave or out of the earth? - Yeah, I think it just must have been astounding. - Yeah. - And so the red lady was moved to Oxford University. - Oh. - Despite Buckland having been completely wrong about the date, so it was not Roman at all. Then in 1912, another archaeologist, William Solis, went back to Pavlanan cave and conducted further excavations. And he found flint arrowheads and tools which dated the skeleton much older than Buckland's Roman estimate. - I can imagine him stumbling around going to Buckland, you bloody idiot. - Well, indeed. And they found loads more artifacts when they did that, including over 4,000 flints and teeth and bones, needles, bracelets, like all sorts of things. - I can't believe they ever said, "Blady Buckland." Honestly, look at this, it's a gravisty. - So this turned out to be a huge paleolithic burial site. - Yeah, because it would have been something like 70 miles in land of where it is now, which is right on the coast. - Yeah. - See, the forming, there's been an ice age. - Yeah. - And it would have overlooked a plain originally. - Incredible. - But can you guess the biggest secret about the red lady of Pavlanan? - Oh, was she a werewolf? - No, she wasn't a werewolf. Bring in an ice age hyena. She was in fact a man. Buckland had got that from wrong as well. - Okay. - He had assumed she was a lady, because of the jewelry found around her. - Yeah. - But Solis determined quite quickly the skeleton was in fact a male. - Well, I guess biologically born a male. We don't know about the rest. - No, we don't, but it was gendered male bones. - Yeah, well, the red lady of Pavlanan, it in fact turns out to be a very, very ancient man called Ken or something. - Yeah, exactly. Poor Buckland. - I think he'd still wear that badger as prime right on his business carpet stuff. - The red lady of Pavlanan. - Has never been renamed the red gentleman despite being very much a gentleman. (laughing) Solis concluded that this chap had lived in the last ice age. He was wrong about that too. But that estimation has changed quite a few times since the initial discovery. Because of course, where's been so many advances made since carbon dating. It has to be used in the fifties. - I mean, it is just amazing to have any remains that old. - It is, I think. - Plus you've got a whole treasure trove full of artifacts. And so Ken, Ken, the Mr. Red Lady, be seen today? - Ken can be seen today. He is in the Oxford University Museum of Natural History. - Right. - He's actually Ken, been nicknamed the Welsh Elgan Marbles. Because the Welsh wanted back. - Yeah, understandable. Like, yeah, it's a piece of remains from Wales. We should definitely make sure that the Red Lady of Pavoland goes home. The Welsh probably would have looked at that corpse and gone, that's a bloke. - Well, maybe so much, maybe so. - Because all of this has been got wrong by Oxford's historians and archaeologists. And they have been going on at the moment. Loads of repatriation to art and facts. Like, the British Museum is just given back tons and tons of African art and facts. - Yeah, just the week was in there. - Good start, keep going. - So who knows, the Red Lady may be on the train back to Cardiff soon. But in fairness to poor old misguided William Buckland, when he excavated the Red Lady in 1823, Wales didn't actually have a national museum. Of course it does now. - Yes, so in their defence, they didn't know it was anywhere to put it. - But I think it sort of makes sense to send him home now. - Especially as many of his bits and bobs are on display at the National Museum in Cardiff and at Swansea Museum near where he was found. - You can imagine once the skeletons return, you could be like, "My stuff!" Oh, my necklaces! - Yeah! - I felt naked without you guys. - I mean, his stuff, he isn't in his entirety. He's only a partial skeleton. - Well, who knows, maybe they'll find some more of his bits. - Oh, well, I hope so. - Yeah, let's recompete the Red Lady of Pavoland. - Cam, good luck to you fellow. (laughing) And so, would the most recent date him make him the oldest ceremonial burial discovered in this part of the world? - Yeah, the Red Lady is the oldest man in Western Europe. - Whoa! (screaming) - Now, Eleanor, you hinted to me that Glamorganshire was an especially rich area for folklore, so I'm pretty excited to find out what you've got for us today. - Yes, it is extremely rich. I would say there is more or less a little bit of everything you could wish for, Englomorganshire, from ghastly ghosts and witches and wizards, the dastardly devils, fairies, vampires, werewolves, giants, sacred stones and chanted lakes. It's got the lots. - Okay, does it have a dragon? - Uh, sort of. - Okay, sort of has a dragon. - Yeah, sort of. - I mean, as we go around and sort of tick our way through counties, we see like who's got what? - Yeah. - And this is a pretty complete scorecard. - This is a good score, isn't it? So where are we gonna begin? I mean, I always love a good ghost story. So can we start with ghosts? - The Montagrasshire is ready with Spooks Martyr. - Nice. - Although interestingly, the ghosts in this area are not that concerned with scaring you silly. - Oh really? So they're nice and comforting ghosts, how cool ghosts? - Ghosts, who are chiefly concerned with recruiting the living to help them find or dig up objects hidden by the ghost in life. - Yeah. - And usually then to throw those objects into a river with the current, throw them against the current. And then with that accomplished, the ghost will be at rest. - I mean, there's loads of these specifically in this part of South Wales. - Yeah. - I don't know if people in Glomonganshire have always been especially prone to hiding things, but this kind of ghost story crops up low. - Well, they managed to hide the red lady for all these years. Maybe they're really really, maybe she's the original Missal Toe Brite. Maybe that's where it all starts. - Oh yeah. - Oh yeah. - The original Missal Toe Brite. - Sorry, but I missed it. - So one such specter haunted the seller of the White Horse in Pontiprid, causing alarm to a maid who worked there by appearing and grimacing horribly whenever she went down to the barrel. - Oh, she was just shirking out of work. She didn't want to go down to do the barrels. - But eventually the ghost told her it wanted her to accompany it to the woods in the Pistol Valley where the maid then helped the ghost unearth a pair of cock fighting spurs. - Right. - Yeah, but he was apparently been quite fond of those in life. - Do you think he wore them himself or did he put them on his cock? - I think he put them on his favorite. - What? - What? - I'm being accurate. - The second of the two. - His spurs on his cock. - Yes. - Great. - His fighting bird. - Yes, his fighting bird. - Once she'd chuck them in the river tap. - What did you mean? - Well done. - Well done. - We're not getting into this. - Okay. - All right. - The ghost was satisfied when the cock spurs had been the spurs up into the river tap and they're finished. And there were just loads of these stories following exactly the same pattern. - I am interesting with the artifacts really very. - Yeah, imagine not everyone's going to have cock spurs. - Not everyone, no. But yeah, they all want them thrown into water. I'm guessing that's presumably to clean them. So like give them a baptism to breathe them. - Yeah, I'm not going to help them pass over, I guess, in some way sort of the ritual killing of the object, I guess, I think, across over. - Well, yeah, we've talked about that since sort of three Ravens episode one, it feels like. - Every so often you do get stories of people being allowed to keep the things the ghosts showed them. So occasionally ghosts would help people out to pop some golden things like that. - Yeah, well that makes sense. Although I'm not sure anyone's going to really be bothered in someone's old cock spurs. - No. - The maid was like, "Nar more right?" - Yeah, I can check in the river. - Where's the Minder River then if you're not going to use, though? (laughing) I feel like there should be more kinds of these ghosts all over the country. - The pots of gold kinds. - Yeah. - Yeah, yeah. And there are a few exceptions, of course. And there's a few noisy polterguys who like to pull off the bed clothes and cold weather and pile them on and hot weather, which is very annoying. - Wallet shut. - And chuck candlesticks about and things like that. - Yeah. - But you know how we sometimes joke about shucks like black shucks, white shucks, pink shucks, and lady ghosts of various colors. - Yeah, why so many white and gray ghosts everyone? Where are all the ghostly ladies dressing in more adventurous shades? I would like more burgundy ghosts. - Well, for example. - For example. - Or for Stasio Green one. - What will we have ghostly ladies in green? There are lots of green ladies in the glimorgan. There are reports of them at Marcos Well, at Carefully Castle, at the Garf Mountains, at Dunnets and the Vale of Neeth, lots of green ladies. That's interesting. And so with white ladies, we tend to think that they are ghosts of people who have been effectively killed while innocent. So they are victims of crime. Do we have any sense of what these green ladies want? Oh, mostly they want to show you where the cockspa are buried. Oh, as do the ladies of other colours. I mean, this is a real preoccupation in this area. There's a lot of cocks fighting going on. One of the white ladies, though, are contrary to what you just said. Yes. And she was at Bishopston in the Gowl Peninsula. She was an awful pain. She was a poltergeist. And she was a real annoyance, like chucking dishes and such about the house she wanted. And she was such a nuisance that 12 ministers of the church had to come along and try to lay it to rest. And do we? Did they do something unusual to capture or was the old classic? They essentially set her a challenge. And I actually think the way they went about this is quite unfair. Yeah. They lit 12 candles, these 12 ministers, and told the ghost that if she could extinguish all 12 of the candles while the clock was still striking midnight. So while it was striking, then the house was hers and no one would ever be able to get her out. Those sound like fair odds, I'd take those off. That's okay, but if she failed, the ministers were allowed to condemn her to a fruitless task which she could never finish. Oh, no, don't do that. She's like a bad gamble. It's kind of mean. It's mean, I think. Yeah, definitely. The risk is not worth the reward because she can continue driving people out of that house anyway. Like, thanks, Priests. Why don't you all just bog off? Mind your own business. Well, you think that she had this locked down. Yeah. But the ministers had also brought along loads of bells and noise-making voices. Oh, of course, they are. What a bunch of snakes. And when midnight started striking and the ghost started blowing out the candles which had something go so pretty good at, they all ran their bells and made loads of clatter and rack it and yelled their heads off to utterly confuse this poor ghost. And it worked. She was too confused to blow out the candles so they were able to get her out of the house. She needed some kind of ghostly earplug, didn't she? She really did. She would have been fine because she could have just whacked in some ghostly earplugs and also at the start of the night, I think, dumped the candles in some water. Because they just need to be out by the end of the clock-strikey midnight. Yeah. Well, easily done, no problem. Yeah, sadly, they managed to trap her with their bells. Yeah, I don't like them. This is a horrible sneaky thing to do. And so they gave her a fruitless task, I'm guessing. Yeah, they sent her off to Caswell Bay, Ness, Onesey. And told her she had to try and build a castle of sand below the high water mark. Oh, what? This castle had to resist the impact of the tide for three days and three nights. That is very mean, because she's not able to do that. No, it was impossible, but it was totally successful. She never haunted the manner of bishops didn't again. Okay, yeah, I can understand that. I mean, it's a bit like called Jan Trigigel, isn't it? And Cornwall and Dos Mary Pool where he's going to empty out with an oyster shell with a hole in it. It's just like an impossible task that you can never complete in a way of like, tricking a ghost. Yes. Back to devil folklore, doesn't it? Yeah, if you can trick them, then you can win. Yeah, and I feel like building a castle with wet sand is very similar to the old Cochrane Devil make a rope out of sand story also. Still, sucks to be that ghost, poor woman. Otherwise, there are a few ghostly horses in Glamorgan and not Kephaldoa or Kelpies, but actual ghost ponies. Oh, wow, did it? The Frampton Horse. Did it live in pony holes? Ghostly ones, maybe. The Frampton Horse canters around clan with major. And it's said to be the specter of the horse belonging to Adam DeFrancton, who killed Luel in the last. Oh. Apparently, Adam felt so bad about having killed the last two Prince of Wales. I mean, has he? Shut. He took up vigorous cross country riding and broke his neck falling from his horse on a particular spot, which the horse still haunts. I mean, vigorous cross country riding does seem like a slightly strange expression of guilt. It's really strange, isn't it? But apparently, you can hear this horse is thundering hooves and then a horrible thump of a body falling to the ground. And then the horse cuts off. I think it's sad that the entire horse's afterlife has been haunted by his rider. Yeah. So the horse didn't kill the last king of Wales as rider did. It seems unfair, doesn't it? It definitely does. The other ghost pony appears near Scarehouse on the coast by Porthcaw. But that one is an omen of death of someone in the neighbourhood. You don't want to see that one. Yeah, that also is like some black dogs and also like Kelpies and those kinds of things, right? I mean, they basically just want to dump you in war too. Yeah, they want to pull you under, don't they? Yeah, so pretty good ghost, Sklamorganshire, Treasurer Seekers, colorful ladies and horse hauntings. The fairies of the area by contrast are awful. Well, fairies seem fairly university to be awful, don't they? These ones are really not great. I found multiple accounts of fairies stabbing people in the leg. Oh, that's not very friendly behaviour. Good to fair. Fairies of Wales, you're tin of the tags. Why are you doing that? Usually when they've been offended in some way. Oh, well, it doesn't take you. People have been like, I hate you fairies. They do not take much to defend them. And then stabbing in the legs seems to be their go-to in this part of Wales, which may be down to their fighting heritage. Oh, yeah? People have witnessed fairy battles between opposing factions of fairies on a hillside between Mervetid Philanabodev, and riding tiny horses, and throwing needle sized spears and waving swords the size of pen knives, which are quite adorable images. That's lovely. And a fairy cavalry was also spotted in the veil of Nith, riding on little white horses, which didn't touch the ground as they galloped. Oh, this is also genuinely quite unusual, isn't it? Yeah. We encounter fairies who are maybe a bit tricky and well-full in other places, and we do sometimes encounter whole patrols of fairies or marching fairies, funeral fairies, as well as another quite big thing. You often see them actively going for each other. And no, that behaviour usually involves behaviour towards humans rather than towards each other. Goodness knows what's going on in fairy politics, single-amorgangeos, or because obviously something very major. So this martial spirit extended when a man decided to join in with a dance that a group of fairies were holding at the first of Kumayvi Tour. Yeah. It seems fairly friendly, joining in a nice dance. And not just doing things today. Yeah, the fairies hated it. They stabbed him in the foot with a fork. With a fork? I mean, that's old too, because in most other Welsh counties where we've encountered fairy dancing, the normal procedure is for the fairies to whisk that individual away into fairyland, either for a year and a day, or maybe forever. Yeah. But not to stab them with calorie? No, it was really vicious. And I know they, the glimog and your fairies themselves seem to be quite bloodthirsty. Yeah. They apparently object to humans carrying blades or sharp objects in their presence. So if you've been, you know, I don't know, cutting berries or something, you need to hide your knife because they don't like it. If you bring a knife near them, they will respond with violence. Yeah, well, by stabbing you in the leg. By stabbing you in the leg. Exactly. They are not very pleasant then, especially in comparison to the ghosts of the county. You only really want you to help and find their stuff and then they'll leave you alone. Which is decent. Well, I think that's all right. Yeah. But it definitely, I think, little good, yeah, has its share of kind of unusual things, like the witches of the area, who were thought to be able to transform themselves into geese. I don't think we've come across goose witches before. Oh. Got to say, I really love the idea. I mean, you don't really get hairs, cats, you don't have things like that. Goose witches. No, we've had like goose fairy children and swan fairy children, but I'm not sure we've had goose witch. Yeah, like waggies. Oh my God. It's pretty cool. Yeah, I mean, you love a goose. I do. I'm a witch. Combine the two. It's perfect. Presumably where there are witches, there must be the devil, well, I know. So you already mentioned that old Nick is stomping his hooves all over the morgan show. What was he up to? The usual stuff, really, in various combinations. There's a story about the Castel-Coch Gorge, which combines a couple of well-known devil tales. Yeah. The first part is actually very similar to the very first tale we told on three ravens, that of cuffmen of staining and devil's dyke, near Brighton, in East Sussex. Yes. Apparently, the devil was very unhappy with Glamorganshire because loads of monasteries and churches had been set up all over the county, so decided he would block up the tafff valley at the Castel-Coch Gorge, and thus down the river and drown all the people. Yeah. The standard of racism, these are for all Nick. Devil would behave, yeah. But he had a bit of a problem because the soil of Glamorgan was too holy to work for his purposes. So he thought he'd bring over some earth from London on a shovel. Dirty London. Dirty London, exactly. And it was quite a long way. Yes. So the devil got a bit tired, sat down to take a rest near Rabina Hill. Ah. And there he met a cobbler. Oh. I mean, you've had possibly a version of this bit before. Cobler carrying loads of boots and shoes he picked up for repair for all his customers in the area. And the devil said, oh, how far is it to Castel-Coch? Yes. The cobbler, courted glimpse of the devil's tale, realised the big shovelful of earth must be for something very bad, not good. Yeah. So he told the devil it was so far, even though it's not actually that far, that he'd worn out all of the shoes and boots in walking from Castel-Coch. So the devil abandoned the idea, dumped the earth where he was, and the mound became known as the Rabina tomb part. - I mean, we've definitely encountered this story in its parts before. It's interesting that it's a cobbler this time, though, rather than a Smith, a blacksmith. - Yeah, there are a few blacksmith tales as well, but yeah, it feels quite like lots of other devil tales amalgamated as you get, I think. - But given a bit of a leathery makeover, it's case. - Interestingly though, the tomb path mound is not a hill or a geographical feature. - Right. - This is the thing the devil's meant to have made by dumping it. - Yeah. - It is actually the site of a former mottom-belly castle, which was built on an older fort. - So it was built by a giant, really. I mean, we say giant, we mean an old wall, or presumably a king. - Yeah, there's another legend, which says it was the burial mound of yesterday. - I mean, presumably the devil didn't just happen to dump a whole load of London's earth on that dude. - I hope not. It would have been an awful way to go, even if he did accidentally let the Normans into his territory. (laughing) - Now, my next piece of folklore for Glomorgan might just be the strangest folklore I've ever encountered, which is saying something. - Yeah. - It is also the piece of folklore I personally believe the least. I don't trust these reports, Martin. - Well, fair enough. I mean, you've set me up to not trust them either, but Colony and Tree. - Well, this extremely unlikely happening is the nice snakes of Glomorganshire. - Nice snakes. - I know, right? - In terms, snakes are not nice. They do not have our best interests at heart as a collective. In fact, I believe a regular topic at the annual snake summit is how best to upset humans. - Of course, yeah. - But you know who won't be attending that conference, Martin? The snakes of Glomorgan. - Presumably the snakes of Glomorgan. - Because they are nice. - Okay, and how are we sure that they're nice? Do you think it could be just a long con where they're trying to fool the good folk of Glomorgan and lull them into a false sense of security before they actually strike? - Well, obviously very plausible. - Yeah. - Yeah, I buy that. So it may have all started with an extremely large snake who wore a crown on its head and liked to hang out with a farmer's daughter who lived near Penn Mark. - I see. - And the woman gave this massive snake fresh milk every day. And I guess they would just chat or whatever. - I mean, this is as princess behavior. - It is, or though she was just a farmer's daughter ever. Anyway, one day the snake didn't show up, but in its place was a gold ring. So where the snake would have appeared so that there was a gold ring. And as soon as the woman put it on, she had amazingly good luck and got extremely rich. - I had the ring to have her. - Very nice present. On her deathbed, she asked her daughter to wear the snake's ring after she was gone. But the daughter forgot. And the snake's ring was buried along with the good luck. - Oh, that was it. - I mean, pretty altruistic snake. - Yeah, nice snake. - Although, you know, it seems to be some kind of serpentine monarch. - Yeah, I was wearing a crown, which is interesting. - Also, I thought there was gonna be multiple nice snakes of glimog. - There are. - Oh, it's not the only helpful snake story. - Oh, okay, go on, more, more. - So the snakes around the area of St. Nicholas in the Vale of glimog and were able to cure scurvy. - Okay, did they like stir up a remedy with their tails? Spinning it round and round? - Oh my goodness. - I like the idea of snake doctors. - So the story goes that scurvy, which we would now call a vitamin C deficiency, broke out and affected lots of people, including a small girl. - Okay, is this another case of a girl profending a snake in a worm? - Mm-hmm. - Why is it always this way? I mean, this symbolism is clear if we want to think about it that way, I guess. Do you think it was just the way things were before we had horse girls and ballet girls? You had to be snake girls. - You had snake girls? - Yeah, that was what little girls were early into. - Maybe that part of the clique, all of these little girls feeding snake milk. - This is another reason I don't want to live in the past to avoid the snake girls. I would not be friends with the snake girls. - Okay. - Anyway, this girl had scurvy and she was quarantined at home, but she was able to go and sit in the garden with her scurvy and she had apparently already befriended a gang of snakes. - Well, she sounds like a wrong answer, me. - Yeah, she does, but the snake noticed that she was poorly. - Yeah, yeah. - She had a very well-shed scurvy. And so they slid off and came back with some special leaves, which they chewed up and then smeared all over her face and arms using their mouths, obviously horrifying image. And she recovered. - I mean, that is a better. - A very mad story. And I wonder if the snakes maybe said, "While you wait, here eat this apple." - Yeah, do you think they weren't snakes at all? Do you think they were demons? - Oh, I know what I was gonna say is they probably just treated her vitamin C deficiency with fruit and then all of the chewing up leaves and smearing her with goop was just for fun. - Do you reckon it was a placebo? - Maybe, or just a way for them to entertain themselves. - Yeah. - You know that annoying girl, Kirsten. Why don't we cover her with our bolus? Anyone, sound like fun, I'm free on Thursday. And yet scurvy you know. - I was ill, the last thing I would want is snakes spitting leaves all over me. - I think you'd be less happy with them crawling all over you. You'd rather have leaves spatter you by snakes than to have snakes in your hair. - Martin, I'd rather have scurvy. - We've already got scurvy. You can't do anything about that. - But I can do something about snakes touching me. (laughing) I find the beautifully colored winged serpents of cowbridge to be rather more appealing. So this is why they sort of dragons. - Yeah. - But they were very much described as winged serpents. - Gotcha. - Supposedly, they were covered in all kinds of jewels and sparkled quite prettily. - Right. - But they went very nice, weren't like the nice snakes of the veil and they would sort of swoop down on chickens and occasionally children beating them around the heads with their brightly colored wings. - That's very interesting. So okay, we get these kinds of accounts of winged serpents around Northern England and don't we particularly counting the number of and combs and places like that. And so they just sort of doing what those ones did, flapping around in the forests, although in their cases covered with jewels. I guess if they have loads of jewels, it's no big deal for the king of snakes to give one away to that individual maid for a time. - I don't think they are doing that anymore. - Well, no, I mean, they would have been hunted down, I would have thought. - I fear so. - Yeah, I wonder if the disappearance of all the jeweled serpents has got something to do with all this buried treasure that the ghosts of Gomorgher chicken for playing about. Maybe the ghosts are really anti-snake. (laughing) They're happy to watch them die in decay and then they'll lead humans to their remains and they chuck it in the river. (laughing) But is the wealth of the county based on the blood of wings serpents? Maybe that's the real reason for the economic depression. - Do you think? - Maybe, maybe we need some justice for serpents. - Not of course I'm gonna get behind. - Okay, fair enough. - I am more in favor of the terrifying seven-headed forest hound, which is said to haunt the green meadow area near Tongue Gwynlays, supposedly chasing ghost wolves and scaring anyone who sees it. - That sounds fascinating. - Pretty cool, isn't it? - The seven-headed forest hound. - Yes. - And it hunts ghosts. - Ghost wolves. - Ghost wolves. - I mean, that's amazing. - It's quite interesting, isn't it? - Yeah, there's a lot of weird creatures in one particular county in Wales. Do you think there's something in the water, in the river Tafba? - Yeah, or the treasure that the ghosts have been getting people to chuck in it. - Oh, yeah, of course. - Well, if you like the seven-headed hound and who wouldn't find me, more doggies, this grassy, the seven-headed hound, you might also like the Kahnanan Wales is Hellhounds. - Yes, we have come across the Kahnanan before in other counties, and we never really know whether we should just mention, oh, there's also black dog legends, 'cause we've just talked about this before, there's black dog legends in every single historic county in England and Wales, but, you know, Hellhounds, they ultimately know no borders. - Exactly, so they're there every week. I mean, even if we don't talk about, just because you don't hear about Hellhounds, they're not there, 'cause they're not. - Oh, they're shacking about with their shanky bridges, aren't they? - But in Demorgan, they hang out with a lady known as Multinos, or Matilda of the Night. - More Matilda of the Night. - Yeah, Matilda was a. - Originally a Norman lady came over with Robert Fitzhalen and presumably stayed, and Matilda loved hunting. - Yeah. - She loved it so so much that she declared she didn't want to go to heaven if she couldn't hunt there. - Well, yeah, okay, she didn't really love hunting then. - Yeah, and so she didn't. After her death, Matilda was allowed to hang out with the conanuman for all eternity, riding and hunting to her heart's content. She's meant to appear on Christmas Eve and on New Year's Eve with all the hounds around Porthicle. - That's so cool, I love this. The idea of a special Christmas huntress, Matilda. - Yeah, just like, didn't want to go to heaven, just wanted to keep hunting so she has. - Oh, but no. (laughing) - Oh, you're interesting. Some of Matilda's hounds were also said to take a half human shape, which is something you don't always hear about the conanuman. One of them was seen near Wilton Crossways and supposedly had the upper body of a man and the lower limbs of a lightly spotted dog. - I mean, yet more reasons to hang out with these incredible spectral or magical pooches, I guess. - Yeah. - If you want to leave and go to heaven, if you've got talking half man, half dog friends, - And the spotter. - So you can hang out with, yeah, and you don't often get a spotty wear dog, do you? - No, you don't. - They usually tend to follow the pattern of having like black fur and large flaming eyes. We have talked about exceptions to that, but That's the kind of traditional chocolate shags. - Spotty's unusual. (laughs) There is also an actual werewolf story from Glamorgan Jair, the werewolf of Wembo, who was an unfortunate young man. He was turned into a wolf by the witch of Wembo after he broke up with her niece. And now he roams the area around the bear's wood. But if a werewolf is just a little bit too ordinary for you. - It's not. - But may I also present to you the frog woman of Klanda? - Yes, please, a frog woman. This is different again. - Yes, so on moonlit nights, she wanders the road between Klanda and Kardif and croaking and hopping like a frog. (laughs) - I mean, firstly, there is a niche Halloween costume (laughs) right here, the frog woman of Klanda. (laughs) Perhaps that's what we should do during haunting season this year. Like a virtual three Ravens costume party where everybody comes as their favorite bizarre folkloric creature. - I love that. - I will dye myself green as the frog woman of Klanda, if I'm perfectly happy to do that. - You know what it would be the high clear grandpas. - Ah, of course I want to be the high clear grandpas. But you can't talk as the high clear grandpas. - You just have to scream. - You just just scream in a tree. (laughs) You also got a lugga tree around with you all evening. Even if you're sat during a virtual Halloween party, that would still be a drag. - Maybe your body could be the tree and just your face could be the grandpas. - Yeah, I mean, the costume ideas kind of make themselves fine, but wouldn't it be more fun to hop around? - It's the frog woman of Klanda. - Yeah, probably. - I think it would be. - Honestly, there's just so, so much folklore in Glomorganshire is quite difficult to make a choice. And most of it's quite strange. - That's great though, how exciting. - I've told you about the enchanted lake, Clinfar, where I'm mysterious, golden head, water maiden dwells. - Yeah. - But the one you really want to watch out for is the Brennan Lloyd or the Grey King of the Miss. - That is a great name, the Grey King of the Miss. - It's good, isn't it? He wonders the mountain sides and sees his children to carry them off into the mist. - I mean, do we know why he sees his children? Is it to make flying work or? - No, my goodness. - Oh, it's hidden in the mist, he just wants kids. - We don't know, yeah, it just takes them into the mist. He's not just found in Glomorganshire, he gets around. Wherever there are mountains, rived and missed. - Oh, why is he always trying to capture children? - Oh yeah, I think he might encounter him again in Marriott's show. - Oh, okay. - Yeah, maybe you'll find out a little bit more about what's in the mist. - Oh, yeah, I'll certainly go looking. - Now, I also thought, as we've just had Valentine's Day, we might keep the love going a bit. With some Glomorganshire love tradition. - Okay, lovely. You always love to try and slip in some spells. What have we got? - Well, for the first, we are going to need to make our way to main Keti or Arthur's Stone in the Galap Peninsula on a full moon. - Right. - We will place on top of the stone, a cake made from barley, meal, honey and milk. And then we'll crawl around the stone three times. - This is all manageable. - Yeah, if our lovers are loyal and true, they'll appear before us. And if they don't, they're fickle and have no intention of marrying us. - Oh, goodness, I mean, that seems quite final. I don't suspect. - The stone was broken. - If we go up there together and do this, then of course we'll be there. - Yeah, we'll be fine, please. - Yeah. - Yes, please. - Maybe you prefer this one. It's a love spell found in the parish of Clanginwitt. - Yes. - Take a Welsh Bible and a book of common prayer and place a key and a gold ring on the page for the marriage service. The key was supposed to open the door to the world of dreams and the ring was a symbol for the marriage ceremony. - Yeah, whether or not you got it from the King of Snakes doesn't matter. - Yeah, no. You have to do this spell on somebody else, by the way. It has to be a secret. So you can't tell them that you're doing it. - Oh, so they don't even know that you're doing the spell on this other person. - No, no. It has to be done in secrecy. - Sneaky. - And so once you've done that, you hide the Bible under their pillow, hoping they didn't notice. And then the next morning you asked them who they jumped about because that'll be their features' bounce. - I feel like if somebody put a Bible under my pillow, I would notice it. It's quite a thick book. - Oh yeah. - Normally. I mean, I would, I think probably most likely, feel it under there, get fussy and then throw it on the floor in the night. - Yeah, I think so. - The keyster dreams is also an addition that I've not heard before. It is a very interesting other take, a remix on traditional divination. - Yeah, I really like actually the key into open the door to dream. - Yeah, that's really cool. - Well done, Blomorganshire. Overall, I think, a highly- - Yeah. - Actinent-teaming counting. - If we were scoring, I think you'd be three out of three Ravens' phone. - Yeah, three Ravens easily. - Right, Martin, it's story time, I think. And if I've done my job right, it'll leave you slightly unsure if you want to keep sitting down. It's called a peculiar thirst. And I'll start spinning my yarn right after this. (crying) February 15th, 1886. Clantwit Major. My dear George, you will no doubt be pleased to hear that you are right. You told me I would be miserable if I came to Wales with Harry, and I am my dear, quite fearfully miserable. And not just in the way this time of year always makes me. All your worst theories about the deterioration of a friendship which was fine and easy in London have been more than proved. And yes, George, you were right about that strain in my character which cannot long bear to be separated from life, real, bustling, optimistic life. The very air tastes wild and bleak, so that it is almost preferable to be shut indoors away from the bitterness which blows up from the sea. Had used it at my shoulder and whispered your misgivings in my ear, I might have taken heed of the dismal skies and the sullen promise below the soil and got straight back into the train to ride back to your approaches for attempting something so outside the usual rules we set ourselves. And yet, dear George, I know you don't deserve such judgment. My approach is not your style, thank heaven. You were ever sympathetic, and I'm sure that there are no worse names than the ones I have called myself. When we are reunited, I grant you have every right to call me whatever you will and to admonish me for this foolishness. No, it is more than foolishness. I hesitate to say terror, unless you drop this and go rushing at once to the railway station. There is something here which has planted a seed of fear in me. A seed I find continually watered by experience. Yes, dear, I am frightened, and that alone is strange enough as to cause you alarm. But don't be hasty, George. I suspect by the time you received this note, I shall be well on my way back to you, and we should cross each other on the journey. How silly I was to disregard you when you reminded me that amazed and at the edge of London would suit me, a smart little house with comforts full of things quite new, which carry no shudder of the old. Of course, this dreary puddle-drawn memory of a place was not for me, and I should not have accompanied Harry here. Is it not strange how circumstances may change a person? He's quite different, or perhaps I am. As I told you, George, I did care for Harry. At least I held him in higher regard than that you and I usually allow ourselves for the people who keep us. Yes, it was vanity, of course, and the desire to raise myself up through serious conversation. Many of my friends want only to relax, and they would think it an extraordinary freak if I were to talk of anything other than hats and the gossip pages. I can do that, of course, but I do it with only half my mind, as though I allow a specter to take possession of my body and use it for idle gossip. That is the trouble of an education, one of the troubles. Certainly the sort of education we received, not enough to truly carry us into another sphere, but too much to have a good conversation with anybody on our own level, save each other. You know that better than any, frequently frustrated as you are by having to show an unwarranted degree of interest in lap dogs and volume novels without substance. Through all our reading, we can help our low birth no more than we can help the beauty that tempts our friends. That was the origin of the flame I felt for Harry, such as it was. Hardly the furnace of a grand passion, but a pleasing little night light. Of course he can be assured of a sensitive listener in me, but I can talk to him. Or I could. After what has happened, he seems to regard me differently, as though the beam of a lamp has fallen on me and cast a strange distorted shadow behind me which does not figure me at all. My feet have always been firmly on the ground as you know dear. I cannot help it if the ground moves. Again I clatter ahead. You always like me to begin properly when I'm giving an account of myself. I should be glad to have all your thoughts when we are together again, so I will give it to you plain. When Harry first invited me to come with him to Wales, I was a scornful as you. What after all is there here for you? For me, a question I can answer with firmness now, nothing but misery. But I confess he excited me with his talk of discovery. "There are secrets resting beneath the crust of the earth," Harry said, and fortune for those who lay bare their mysteries. "Usually I might dismiss such fanciful thinking and change the subject, but there have been an unusual number of these discoveries. You must own George. You ought to be sensible of that. You are continually being hauled to lectures by one or other of your friends." Archaeologists would have us believe that everywhere we place our feet is the grave of the past, and of course the cramborne chase excavation is still ongoing. Despite having never found much more alone than a handful of smashed pottery, Harry was confident the histories he had studied would lead him to an important find. "There is money in such things, after all. Enough, perhaps, to set me up in the little house I've mowed my hopes on. And after all, it had been difficult to meet much with Mrs. C. Importment Square. I think that both of us saw an opportunity here to play acted how it might be with no danger. Harry was unlikely to meet with any acquaintances, considering the perfect madness of the scheme. He caught me up with him, as though he had snatched me up onto a galloping racehorse. I don't need you to remind me the name of the horse. Bad idea." Your exhortations to pack warm things were entirely correct. Nothing could have prepared me for that dreadful wind on disembarking the train at Bridgend. The station was built nearly 40 years ago and shows signs of where. It is a tired little market-town fouled by factory air, and not at all the image Harry had conjured for me of unswild countryside and comfortable rooms, so I was glad when he reminded me that we were staying some distance from the town. I should have been curious to see Cardiff, but that was out of the question, of course, and besides we had travelled much further west. Harry had written to an acquaintance near Bridgend, telling him what he wanted, and explaining where he wanted to conduct his searches, and the acquaintance had written back, suggesting an inn, a sort of private hotel now, really, which he thought might suit our purposes, and Harry had written to reserve rooms for us. I was fatigued after the journey from London, but it was nearly a day's carriage ride onto our destination, so I had to sit on stiff limbs for further long hours. In the privacy of the closed cab, Harry and I solemnised our arrangement. That is, I took off my glove and put on the little gold wedding ring we'd agreed upon. He was still wearing his own, and it was a jolt to see it, as usually he puts it away into his waistcoat pocket when he sees me. Of course, I do not mind seeing a friend's wedding ring. It is not as though we believe them to be unattached, like I cannot condemn him for the sensitivity. So delicate, I can hear you saying, George, but I know that your own amorets have screwpals of their own. Was it not Lady G, who insisted on always wearing her morning veil when she was with you, as though it might hide her from scrutiny? From who's I wonder? I'm being indescribed, but I trust you know well to open my letters in private. We have laughed at them, haven't we, George? Their loneliness, and their need for the best love money can afford. It was as Mr and Mrs F, we went. A new name, sure to you against the minuscule event of encountering one of Harry's acquaintances. The further the carriage bore us from Bridgend, the less likely I felt it should be. February is quite the worst of the year, and I can never excuse its low, heavy skies, and the perverse dampness of the air, which seems to penetrate to even the most uncompromisingly woven wool. A horrid, confidential kind of mist, peering under the edges of umbrellas and winding itself into hair like curlpapers. Perhaps you don't feel it as I do, but it depresses me, George. I want lights in weather like that, and plenty of them. I made Harry close the carriage curtains when I saw a solitary goose streaking across the sky, almost lost against the grain-us, and so the afternoon sagged into night without much resistance. I was surprised to see the house when Harry touched my shoulder and woke me from the jostling doze I had fallen into, and drew back the curtain. It was much larger than I had expected, and very grand. Harry told me it had been a farm-stead, but before then had been a dour house. I suppose that the farm had fallen on hard times and been forced to turn commercial, and of course could identify with such a character. The building was something of a collection of parts, with a two-day central bit and additions to each wing which looked as though the builder had attempted the style of Queen Anne. It was not lovely, but the windows were bright, and it appeared welcoming to me. I was longing for tea, and a warm fire, and perhaps to curl like kittens with Harry. He could hardly go hunting for the treasure of ancient tombs in the dark and rain. The door opened at the sound of our carriage wheels. Harry saw me to the house before dealing with the driver and the luggage, and I entered a hall, which seemed almost indecently grand for a rural farm-stead. It was old-fashioned of course, George, with those vast flagstones which make one feel like a child stepping from one to the next, and a tall, open fireplace carved with ugly knots of foliage, and faces I thought were monkeys at first, but soon realized were grinning skulls. Pressing myself close to the hearth to try and drive a little of the fabricary gloom from my bones, I did not see our hostess, who stood in the shadows close by the door with a lamp in her hand. I say I did not see her, George, but I did not hear her either, for when I looked around she was close to me, and had moved so silently as to be imperceptible. "Oh," I said, startled into betraying surprise, "a begil pardon." As soon as I had spoken I was displeased with myself for having apologized and put myself on uneven footing with this woman. I was to play Mrs. F, and yet I had already given lie to the part, and must recover myself. I did not like her looks, George, or her silent footfalls. I did not like to think of her now, gliding about in the house somewhere below me as I write this. There is something unnatural, about a woman of her years living alone in a grand old house, in an out of the way place like this. I'm sure she's younger than I am, although I thought we're the secret sneer that her clothes were very old-fashioned. Mistress Anne Carrad, as we learned she was called, has that very pale red hair, almost golden, and translucent freckles of almost the same shade which scatter across a high two smooth forehead. She came close to me, two slim black cats twining about her ankles. I thought her dress resembled the fashions of 60 years ago or more, but I could not deny it suited her well. There was a rustiness about the skirt, an impression of spots of mold which made me think of clothes long buried, the clothes perhaps of somebody who slept in a mausoleum. I've tried to give a true portrait, only so you can understand the oddness which read that house from the beginning. Nothing was as it should be. The house too grand for a former farm turned comfortable in. The hostess too young and odd to be a reassuring provider of hospitality. I am not normally superstitious, as you know, unless it is of some use to be, but I felt she grand that Harry seemed to see nothing wrong in any of it. "Well, Arudu," he said, offering Anne Carrad his hand. "Quite the house you have here." "It has been in the family a very long time," she said. "You are welcome. Mr. F. is it not?" And Mrs. F. There was something in the way she looked at me, George, and the way she said Mrs. F in that sly way which convinced me she could tell I was no more Mrs. F than she was. It was only a glance, only a flicker of amusement I perceived in her brilliant blue eyes. But I had the strangest sensation that she could see through me and that she knew me. Usually, a manner of speech protects us from casual identification does it not dare. Most people conveniently associate a good education with higher morals, forgetting that learning in and of itself makes us neither good or pure. "How do you do?" I said, repressively, and did did not put out my hand. I did not want to touch her. Even through my glove, I was sure she would feel cold. The February mist made flesh. Harry, the traitor, had no such screwballs. I could see that he was looking at the elegant bones at the back of Anne Carrad's neck as she led the way up a broad stone staircase. "I've given you the best room," she said. "Jolly good," said Harry. "Nothing but the best for our guests," she said, casting a glance over her shoulder at us. "I did not like her smile, George. Though her teeth were exceedingly white, the flesh I had of them convinced me I did not want to see more of them." "I say," said Harry, appreciatively, when Anne Carrad opened the door to the chamber that was to be ours. "Any misgiving I might have had about staying in the place was instantly banished, for it was a warm, welcoming chamber, with a door leading to an adjoining parlour. The fanishings were rich and warm, with no hint of the fussiness which clung to our hostess's dress. And there was some very old furniture in heavy dark wood, the kind that is prized by people with extensive family trees. To my delight there was a splendid fire. "This must be 16th century at least," said Harry, running his hand over the huge carved bed-stead. "Oh, it was all bought a long time ago," said Anne Carrad, kellously. "But I thought I caught a sudden sheen of something in her eyes. The lightning flashing across the countenance of a hungry man when he smells the prospect of food. She would not be further drawn on the subject of the furniture, but went away to deal with our supper. My spirits were much revived by changing my dress and sitting close to the fire, and when supper was brought I made a good show of it. You know my appetite is ordinarily very small, George, but the beef, the hostess served, was so rich with blood and fat I almost could not eat enough of it. My hunger made Harry laugh, and after we dined and were lying together under the canopy of that vast antique bed, I really believed all would be well." Harry thought he would spend the next day walking about to get the lie of the land and the atmosphere, he said, before he started making measurements. He had some old maps and a book which suggested there had been a Roman presence in the area. It was very flat around the farmstead, and he would be able to walk for miles across the fields and still see the house. "Then you may think of me reading by the fire," I said, "playfully. Though if you make a discovery, you must wave your handkerchief furiously, so that I shall be the first to know." Me allowed ourselves to fantasise, and I was so warm and comfortable. I thought it wouldn't matter if he found nothing at all. I did want him to, George. For at that moment I believed we might get along together for some years, if circumstances could be arranged to make it easy and convivial. A week's sun had dried the rain the following day, though the rim of frost around the window pain suggested a chill in the air. I lay a bed while Harry dressed himself and prepared to have his adventure, and enjoyed watching his enthusiasm until he left me. As I told you, I had determined to use the time to rest and enjoy reading, and to return to London in good health, prettier and more satisfied in myself, even if Harry found nothing even slightly Roman. I wore the dark blue silk dress, George, with the falling lace bands at the cuffs, which makes me look like a lady novelist only more attractive. Such creatures are almost deliberate in the way they make themselves plain, don't you think? I've flatter myself. I look how they ought to, if they took more care. So often the idea of something is much nicer than the reality, isn't it dear? That's a need which you and I fulfil so successfully. I had the Bostonians for company, and ensconced myself in a dark throne of a chair close to the window to while away the morning with Basil and Olive. I lost some hours, and found myself with no inclination to get up, almost as though I had been fastened in some way to the chair. The best of books will do this. In the middle of the morning I thought I would ring for refreshment, but could see no bell, so I stood up to descend and ask the hostess. When I laid down my book, I saw with some distress that there was blood on the lace at my sleeve. The blood had come from a cut in the palm of my hand, which was gushing freely. I could not imagine where it had come from, for I had felt no pain. Indeed, my palm felt curiously numb, and I should not have noticed the cut at all, unless I had seen the shocking scarlet of the blood on my lace. I bathed the cut in the washing basin and examined it, although it was small, it had a curious oval shape, almost as if an animal had nicked me. I did my best to bind it up with one of Harry's hanker chiefs, more suited to the task than one of my own, and made my way downstairs. "Good morning," I said, finding my hostess in the entrance hall, almost as if she had been waiting there for me to descend. She was staring from one of the tall windows out across the fields, and had the strangest sense, George, that she was watching for Harry, even though she could not have seen him. "Excuse me," I said. "Oh, good morning," she said. "I trust you slept well." "Very well," I said, but there is a nail or a splinter in the arm of the old chair by the window. It has gone into my hand. "That's so," she said, not seeming very distressed by the news. "May I see?" Her two cats, I saw, came with her wherever she went, brushing against her legs as she walked. Their paws were as silent as her feet. I allowed her to lift back the hanker chief and examine the cut on my hand. "You were lucky," she said. "I hardly think, I mean, that the cut was in your palm, not across the veins and the back of your hand," she interrupted. "That might have caused you to lose, even more blood." "It was a strange comment to make, rather than an apology." I quite forgot to have the chair overhauled, and Carrad said, giving no indication she would rectify the error now. "I suggest you do so," I said, rather more impatiently than I might have, because I wanted refreshment and was annoyed by her lack of concern. How old is that furniture anyway? "Alter than you are, Miss," she said. "These old things have a life of their own, don't they?" "George, I was almost as enraged by her calling me Miss, so importantly, as a true married woman would have been." "My husband will want the furniture seen to," I said immediately, to show her the mistake. "Otherwise, we cannot stay here." "Oh, indeed," she said. "The nasty, slow smile, that seemed to suggest to me she knew exactly why we had chosen such a desolate place as this." "Rather tartly, I asked her to bring coffee and lunch and upstairs to me, and spent the rest of the day reading on the bed, as you know I like to do anyway when I can be sure of being perfectly alone." In a while, Harry returned, cold but exhilarated. He had found the outlines of a promising mound, he said. I'd almost forgotten the affair with the chair by then, until he asked me about my bandaged hand. Harry examined the old chair, which I had taken care to avoid after the incident, but could find no evidence of a protruding nail or splinter, or, indeed, anything which might have caused a wound. He might ask her to have the chair seen to anyway," I said, discomforted by the fact he clearly thought I was mistaken. "I mentioned it, but I don't think she paid much attention to me." "Well, I shall tomorrow, if you like, darling," he said. He made over cheers to kiss me, but I rebuffed him until he promised to go down and speak to the wretched woman that very moment. With that rather purple flush Harry gets when he's frustrated, he agreed. He was gone a good while, so I assumed that Anne Carrad was defending herself and her old chair thoroughly. While Harry was absent, I got up and looked at the chair again, gingerly running a fingertip over its scrolled arms, and the carvings at the edges of the seat, to see if I could find the thing which had slashed my hand. I could find nothing, George, and I did begin to wonder if I'd scratch myself on a pin or something else. There was not even any trace of my blood. It was as though the very wood had drunk it up, as water sustains a tree. When Harry returned, he wore a vague, distant expression. She's promised a deal with it, he said, and I was satisfied. But when I tried to renew the pursuit of intimacy, he said that he was tired, and soon went to bed. He was snoring before I fell asleep. He has a somewhat idiotic aspect when sleeping, so I usually avoid looking at him. But before I turned away, I did notice he had cut himself, too. There was a small mark on his neck, just above the collar of his night shirt. I slept long and dreamed that something had taken hold of my limbs, and was holding them down all at once. I could only ascribe this lethargy to long travel and being cooped up. Harry had already gone out for the day by the time I woke. As the rain had graciously decided to keep off, I thought I would explore myself. I did not like to ask my hostess about walking routes, but to turn into simply wonder. One cannot indulge in such a luxury in London, so even if the prospect was bleak, it would be novel to walk lanes perfectly alone. The narrow lane leading up to the house was surrounded on all sides by fields, although it was cold, some of the heavy, languidness I'd felt indoors was blown away. It was not much to see, it is a hamlet rather than a village, though I remarked one ugly grey country house, presumably belonging to whatever passed for local gentry. It was not much further into the village, where a few unappealing shops were open. I saw none, I wished to enter, but there was a squat church with a medieval tower dedicated to some forgotten saint called the Elton. Very well, George, I'm sure I can hear you were laughter from here at the idea of me solemnly visiting a village church, the very picture of respectability. In my defence there is not a great deal to do in this place. I had thought I might be spending a little more time with Harry, but he had so far left me entirely to my own devices. In any case it was rather a pretty church, and open, so I went in and amused myself and looking at some Celtic stones they have there. You see, I have become a historian myself. Having seated myself in one of the pews to look at the ancient stones, I allowed my thoughts to wander to the furnishings of the house I would live in. Once Harry had been hailed as the foremost archaeologist of his day and had completed a book on his finds. "Rother magnificent, aren't they?" said somebody behind me. I half-turned and saw a gravely dressed priest of some stamp, presumably the incumbent of the church. He had a pale, pleasant face and a comfortable, rather portly, figure. He started somewhat when I turned, as opposed he was not used to having a person of my looks in his church. "I suppose they are extremely old," I said. "Oh yes," said he, and we talked a little more about the stones before exchanging the usual polite words. Reverend Lloyd was curious about the fiction of Mrs. F. But when he found out where Harry and I were staying, his milk-pudding-colored face paled still further. "Ah," he said. "The old guanous farm. And how do you find it?" "Mostly agreeable," I said. "I don't know what made me break with convention, George, until him that I found something unsettling about my hostess. But I did tell him, and the Reverend was sympathetic." "She has never been to church in my time here," he said. "And I thrilled that he was a Reverend, not above a little gossip. They told me her father never came either, and she refused to have him buried in the church yard when he died. "I think he is in turn somewhere on the property." He had seated himself next to me in the pew by this time, and adopted a pleasantly confiding tone. "I did not like the idea of old guanous, buried close by where I slept. And then there was that business a few years ago," Reverend Lloyd continued. "What business," I said. "Some guests at the farm," he said. "A young family." The mother was nursing the infant, and I believe the child was unwell. She took it into bed with her, but had most disturbed sleep. The child kept waking her with violent crying. The third night of their stay, the child woke her with a terrible, gurgling shout. But when she went to tend to it, she found it dead. The strange, red mark on the throat, bleeding as though an animal had caught at it. Nobody could explain it, nor the doctor, or Mistress Guanous. It really was most peculiar. He must have seen my face, for he added quickly, "forgive me, Mrs. F. I didn't mean to upset you." "Not at all," I said. But I was a little shaken, George, and he could see it. He apologized at once and talked of other things, but I took my leave soon after, only to regret going back outside, for a rainstorm chose that moment to drench me. As such, it was almost a relief to return to the farm. The Reverend Lloyd's story had upset me, and I had grave misgivings about the place. Fortunately, Anne Carrad and those horrible cats of hers were nowhere to be seen. Anne always Harry back, and I discovered why, when the hostess tapped on my door a little later. "The boy has come from Mr. F." she said. He'll be late back. He's found something." I was heartened to hear it, and so didn't mind dining alone. Harry had still not returned after I sucked, which I thought odd. "For how could he see to conduct any investigations when knight had fallen some time ago?" That's what twice. I thought wrongly that he had returned. When I caught the edge of voices downstairs, but he did not come. And so I undressed myself and got into bed. The largeness of the fire in the room which Anne Carrad kept well stoked, meant the heat it produced was intense, and made me very drowsy. I was soon almost asleep. My book drooping onto the covers, and the carvings on the handsome, heavy bed seeming to rise as my eyes lost their focus. I wanted to turn out the lamp, and fall asleep with just the glow of the fire, but I found I could not move my hand. I was not immediately alarmed, sometimes on the verge of sleep one's limbs move as if coated in treacle. I made more of an effort, and discovered that I really could not move my arm at all. So though it was held in an invisible vice. My other arm was held in just the same way, and my legs, and I could neither move, or, as I found when I tried to call out, speak. I was simply held, George, pricent, fast in that bed. This may sound sensational to you now, and indeed just writing of it invites me to question whether it happened, but I know what I felt. The coverlet was turned back, and my nitrous folded to reveal my barefoot and leg. I promised, George, I felt no pain at all, but only senseless horror, at the sight of a row of wounds opening on my calf, as though a set of small blades had been sunk into it. I felt nothing, but when my blood began to ooze from the broken skin, I was suddenly able to move, and move I did, kicking, and thrashing, and screaming fit to rouse the dead, especially when I felt a great weight over me, holding my hands down again. Lizzie, Elizabeth, what is the matter? It was Harry, only Harry, who was holding my hands to prevent me from striking him as I bucked and fought. "A nightmare," he said. "You must have been dreaming." "I am trembling, I allowed him to console me, but I am ashamed to say that I screamed aloud and made him jump away from me when I saw that the wound on my leg had been no dream, but stood out against my flesh in betraying Scarlet. "George, it was a bite. I know it was a bite. I clearly saw the marks of teeth denting my calf, and the whiteness of the skin around them as though the wound had been sucked dry of blood. It appeared quite drained, as though my blood were a tonic to quench and most peculiar first. "Good heavens, what's this?" said Harry. Just as the door opened and Anne Carrad put her head in. "George, I felt chills as though I'd dressed in a dampety coat when she looked at me, and at my wound. There was no hint of sympathy on her face. Annie, a kind of shudder which ran through her, not a shudder of disgust, but rather of extreme pleasure. "There is something in this room," I said wildly. "First the chair, and now I am attacked in bed almost without knowing it." "Attacked," said she coldly. "Are you sure you did not do this injury to yourself, Miss?" "I tell you there was something here," I said. "What's something," said Harry. A half-notice that his coat was missing, and his collar unfastened, as though he had been back in the house for quite some time, and not out with his excavations at all. "I don't know. I couldn't see it," I said. "I only saw the wounds opening." You may judge that I was hysterical George and you would judge fairly. It took Harry another hour to calm me down and dress the wound, but I did not want to stay in the bed. No, did I wish to sit in the arms? armchair, or to touch any of the furniture. Eventually he became annoyed with me, and went to bed himself while I huddled at the window-sill waiting for dawn. I could not close my eyes, and now that the strange heaviness had departed, the wounds in my leg and hand thropped painfully. A begged Harry not to go out the following day, or to take me with him, but he told me briskly that I ought to rest, and there was a silly scene, George, of the sort you know I usually despise. We can't allow ourselves the luxury of such pet-ish tantrums, can we? And I know it, but I could not prevent myself. Harry told me I was being silly and irrational, and I think I knew then that the future I had imagined could not come to pass. That was the very sin of his own wife, then neglected Mrs. C. Weakness, irrationality, and an infirmity of body which meant she could not stand to be touched by him. Glooms wallowed me, and I could not settle to my books. Nor did I want to walk in the rain. I thought of going downstairs to avoid the bedroom and the furniture which had so frightened me, but I did not want to meet Anne Carrad-Gwanis unnecessarily. It was she who sought me out though in the early afternoon, with a sour, stringent look pinching her mouth. "Someone has called for you," she said, "a reverend, clawed." She pronounced his name as if she spoke of a murderer, or a poisonous serpent. "Pray and fight him up," I said, and brings in tea a few pleas. It gave me pleasure to see her scound, and I wondered if her dislike of the priest had anything to do with her refusal to have her father properly buried. It gave me more pleasure to see Reverend Cloid too. Oh, we had only met the day before. His was the only friendly face I'd seen on the ill-fated holiday. "I hope you don't mind me disturbing you, Mrs. F," he said. "I could hardly sleep for thinking I'd upset you with my careless talk yesterday, and I wanted to apologise." "My dear sir, you have nothing at all to apologise for," I said, and saw a trace of pink come into his milk-putting face. "In fact, I'm glad you have come, for I have need of your counsel, on the very same subject." He listened intently as I told him what had been falling me the previous night in bed, and also with the chair. "And to his credit, issued forth every sympathy when I described how I had been wounded. Just so you may imagine, George, I was wearing the pink silk with the black lace shore, so I was soft and feminine against the reverence on the black. "I hear you laughing, but I ever did have a pre-delection for a clergyman. Someone blighted because I cannot summon any enthusiasm for religion. "Why hesitate to give credit to such rumors," said the reverent. "But there has been talk about this house, you know. More than the little I shared yesterday. Local people will have their funny notions, of course. There was a lot of talk about the old man. "I was only cure it then, you understand. My predecessor, Reverend Booth, had a greater familiarity. I know he had some falling out with old guanhas, just before the man died. "At least that's what I was told. But I have heard it spoken that guanhas was possessed, a man who had given his soul to the devil, and that Reverend Booth had been the one to bind it from further mischief. "I could never ask him. He died himself very suddenly." The door opened, making us both jump, and I carried guanhas came in with tea. With Reverend Cloid and I fell silent, and she could do nothing more than cast a suspicious eye on us both. When she had gone, Reverend Cloid moved closer to me, and spoke in rapid tones. "Mrs. F," he said. "You may feel ridiculous, but I promise I speak only in regard for your safety, and for the safety of anybody else who may come beneath this roof. If I say to you that I believe it possible that wicked man's soul has somehow remained here in this room, no, not just the room. But in the very furniture, and it is that which has attacked you, would you think me mad? George, you will be at the point of tossing my letter aside, crying that it is preposterous. I should have done so myself, and I not felt that most horrid impression of being held down and bitten. "I do not think you mad," I whispered. "But what is to be done?" With faith and a good heart, I may be able to complete the work the Reverend Booth began, he said. "But first, we must encourage this foul thing to show itself." I thought him very bold then, but he strode across the room and seated himself in the heavy old chair with a flourish of his coat-tails, laying his arms along its arms and spreading his palms wide. Nothing happened, though, I watched him keenly, until suddenly my new friend let out a strangled cry and clutched at his side. To my distress, I saw that he had not simply had his hands scratched as I had. There was a rent, opening in the side of his waistcoat. "It is gnawing at me," he exclaimed, gasping. "Gnawing, like an animal!" "Get up, dear sir!" I urged him, but he shook his head. He, like I, was being kept down by some force invisible. "He has me," said the Reverend, "but we may have him. Mrs. F. Have you a Bible?" I had not, of course, so the dear man clutched instead at the cross on his chest and began to pray aloud, speaking words which sounded to me like a spell, which I realised must be for the exorcism of an unquiet soul. All the while, the Reverend Floyd seemed to strain as though against a fierce opponent pinning him to the chair, his eyes bulging. I watched on helpless, until at last a shape began to form, seeming to stand either behind the chair. "Oh, within its wooden frame, it was the shape of a man, a tall, gaunt person with a high forehead and pale red hair of Mr. Sankarad. His eyes shone with a fiendish hatred as he looked down at the priest, and the more the good Reverend prayed and fought against it, the more the blood gushed from his wound into the seat of the chair. "I smoke his driven away!" So the Reverend, so they are driven, has wax melts before the fire, so the wicked perish at the presence of God!" A figure of Guana's terrible in its rage flickered and rippled at the edges. Something seemed to wrench him backwards, so that he almost lost his hold on the chair. I was convinced then that the Reverend's theory was correct, and it was the furniture, that old heavy chair and the carved canopy bed, which enabled him to stay half anchored to our world. The figure's mouth opened in a soundless shriek, and blood seemed to pour from it. I had the terrible thought that it was my blood, for only a moment, before the door opened and inbursts, and carried. There was evidence between the daughter and the father, in the last few seconds before his figure vanished, was claimed to see. "What have you done?" She demanded, white around the lips with fury. "What have you done?" he was almost satit, his hunger almost fulfilled. Just a little more blood, and he might have returned to me. Reverend Cloid, free at the dreadful force which had held him down, stumbled from the chair, clutching his side, and I rushed to support him. I knew it was of no avail to ask Mistress Guana's to summon the doctor, especially when I saw the look of Venom she directed at me, before she let out a most inhuman howl and rushed from the room. I have not seen her since, George, and I fear her revenge for slighting her father, or whatever of his spirit was preserved within his old furniture. I was able to patch up the Reverend a little, though the bite in his side was severe. He begged me to leave with him, but I refused, so that I might order my thoughts. I cannot stay here, of course. Harry, I know, already thinks me half lunatic. And now I am certain that either the vampire father or his daughter have been supping at his blood, too. I am sure she has been taking pains to separate us, and to seduce him for her ends. I have little desire to spend my money on travel, but I am firm now that I must make my way back to you. I write this sitting on the floor, for fear of those handsome sticks which have such evil within them. But I know I must make haste, in case the daughter has some further plan to encourage her monstrous parent back to drink my blood. Despite the attack on the good Reverend, not a drop of his blood stains that chair. It has all been entirely consumed. So, my dear George, I say again that you were right, but you kind of had no conception of the occurrences which would so utterly confirm it. The loving sister, Lizzie. Samaritan, hungry, hungry furniture. What do you think? Well, the first thing I have to say is I thought that Lizzie, your narrator, was a piece of work. She, uh. Pretty terrible person. Yeah, she made me chuckle several times. I, um, I apologise for the editing problems that that will create for you. No, that's all. But the best thing about this story is it's based on a real tale, right? It's true story. Apparently, yeah, say it in Marie Travellian's Folk Pillar of Wales book. There are multiple examples of this vampire furniture phenomenon in South Wales. So vampire. And it seems to be a very South Welsh phenomenon, although I found another instance reported in East Tennessee, Vampire furniture just, uh, FYI. Well maybe someone in America bought some vampire furniture from Wales and, you know, exported it or imported it, I suppose, who's come to Tennessee. Someone's making it. That's for sure. It was interesting though that you went for the angle of it being possessed. It being a kind of vampire possessed set of furniture. Yeah, well, there's no explanation given for why vampire furniture in any of the stories. No, and typically, like Marie Travellian's book is old, right, it's over a century old. Weasen be old, yes. Yeah, and then loads of other folklorists, Peter Stevenson and others have written about this vampire furniture story. If you Google online, loads of people have, you know, written little accounts of it and so on and so forth on various websites. But when you try and trace back to find the root of the story, there is no explanation in the classic way that a lot of folk tales don't have an explanation. Yeah. So, um, there was obviously a bit of a vampire tradition in Welsh folklore that said to be dead men who were doomed to join our own in the other world. Right. And visit the earth to suck blood from people and corpses. So you've got this idea of the vampire, so fine, so far so good. But how do you get from a vampire to a vampire chair and a vampire bed? Well, so I had to sort of imagine that it was almost an exorcism of a vampire gone a bit wrong with the old priest, which trapped this guy's soul with an ex-perlet chair, which was lovely. Love because he was a vampire, he'd been alive for centuries, which is why it was all furniture. But, yeah, that was what I came up with. It's a bit of a swiney-todd the barb, a kind of trope, isn't it? This idea of the person who's supposed to welcome you in and actually they kill you or they exploit you or they take your blood. So there's a very famous version of this story called a terribly strange bed. I think it's by Sheridan Lepharne. I think so, yeah, and that's a murder bed, isn't it? It is. It's a murder bed that sort of goes up into the ceiling and crushes people's bodies. Yes. The way that that one works, but that was based on tales of murderer publicans and inkeepers. They've been washing around a little bit. Yes. And we found sort of versions of that tale in England being retold, but never actually vampiric furniture. No, that the furniture itself would bite you and take your blood. Yeah, yeah. And as you say, Marie Trevellian does give us several examples of this. Yes. It is the really dark one told by the priest in my story about the baby who is eaten by the vampire bird. Dark times. Also, you know, listeners may not realise this and they may be shocked to hear it, but this is also your first ever epistolary story, right? Yes, it is. I've actually never written a story in the form of a letter, but no. It's like a second person tale. Absolutely. First one. I really enjoyed doing it actually. It might be a sign of my current Victorian interest. I mean, current. It's a thing which lies dormant, but occasionally rears up and overtakes me, but like shingles and shingles. A bit like shingles. Lives in my spine and sometimes comes up my interest in Victorian literature. Well, I did think that some of your descriptions of February in her tale basically echoed things that we have been moaning as we hover around the house and look out of the world. The Martin Hades February. It's a lease rave for it season. So Lizzie's complaints about February are just modelled on Martin. Well, thank you so much, Eleanor. What a fun story. I'm dressed assured that I'll be giving all of our furniture stern looks so they don't think about trying anything funny. Yeah, I mean, a couple of our chairs have collapsed underneath there. Yes. But I think it has more rowing to the stresses and strains of life than ancient Fampo Malles. Yeah, chairs are hard things to build and make them stay together. I always refer people to the beginning of the Patriot starring Mel Gibson by Mel Gibson in which he fails to make chairs quite spectacularly. So there we are. Anyway, before we get stuck into the lovely correspondents, we received this week, we found a pretty interesting piece of archaeological news. I don't know about you, Dearest Nepper. Eleanor and I are feeling a little depressed by the general state of the news at the moment. It's always looking for things to counter it, like fines and rare pairs of animals thriving. Yeah. That kind of thing. You know, the last pair of rare birds in the south of England have had a chick. Yes, for. You know, that kind of thing. Amazing teenager has figured way to get plastic out of ocean. Yeah, those kinds of stories. Those kind of stories. And last week we discovered this story about the unearthing of an ancient myth-rayum, a sanctuary dedicated to the god Mythras in Regensburg in Bavaria. It is a story which starts with a development company trying to build a multi-story residential building in the heart of the historic town. But while excavating for the foundations of this new building, they discovered the remains of this myth-rayum. Yes. So there wasn't much of the structure left. The archaeologists who leapt into action found an inscribed, votive stone, metal votive plaques, shrine fittings, fragments of vessels decorated with snake motifs, incense burners, handled jugs, animal bones and coins, which of course allow accurate dating. So they were able to determine that the sanctuary dates from between 80 and 171 AD. They've actually been quite a lot of myth-rayums found in Bavaria. This is the ninth myth-rayum of Bavaria. Of course that. But the oldest by far, by a long way. So it's actually a really important find in understanding the history of Mythras' worship in the area. I've got to say, I wonder if they will still build a block of flats there now that they found it. I mean, how would you feel about living on top of the site of a myth-rayum? I mean, I don't think I'd mind. But after all, we know that they were pretty enjoyable places. Yeah, that's true. Basically, a pandemic. Yeah. If you are interested in finding out more about the cult of Mythras, then we released a Patreon exclusive episode about it last autumn. So do sign up if you fancy listening to that. And all sorts of other exclusive deep dives into things that we don't include on the regular podcast feed. Right. Shall we talk correspondence now? OK, let's. The first thing we should do is wish a very happy birthday to Emma Coban, a long time three Ravens listener. Hasband James wrote in to ask us to celebrate. Emma, we know we're a little bit late for the actual day, but we hope you had a wonderful birthday. And we hope that a chorus of Ravens performed happy birthday from the trees at your awakening. No. Now, Eleanor, from a happy news to not so happy news. I hate to say it, but yet another week goes by with no reviews. All right, dudes. We're up on podcast. That's time. Yeah. I think this may have been because something went weird with our series one cover art. Oh, OK. And since then, we maybe had a dip in new listeners on Apple devices in particular. I think I fixed it. Maybe that's why, but we were not let down by our listeners on Spotify. I have our first lovely message here from Anita, who wrote in response to our major bonus episode about Hermes Trismagestus. I've been following you guys for almost two years now, and I love it all. Especially your episodes about law, magic, all traditions and mythical creatures. But you guys are so fun. I can tell how well-read and researched you are and the joy and love you have for your topics as well as each other. It is a joy to listen to. Now, Anita. Yeah, firstly such a nice message. But also Anita is from Norway. And I think she alone is probably responsible for three Ravens, lately rocking about in the top 50 of Norway's fiction podcast charts. I think you and Anita telling your friends in Norway about three Ravens has made us chart in Norway. Thank you so much Anita. We're both so glad you enjoy what we do. And yeah, we both do really enjoy what we do for three Ravens. We do. Together we can build this podcast up to a point where it can become a full-time job for both of us. Yeah. Would you make the whole thing much more joyful because we won't have to do any other work on the side? Amen to that. Although Rosa felt different. She wrote, "Romis chismagestus did live. You just don't have all the information. You need to research more than superficially. To which I reply, with all due respect, Rosa. I read about four books in preparation for that episode. My sources are tight as a tiger. But if you have managed, perhaps even through psychic means to receive real and true communications from Hermis chismagestus, or otherwise have evidence that I'm wrong, you know the email address three Ravens podcast at gmo.com. Although if you send me a manifesto, I'm not going to read it." I love how specific Rosa's comment is. She's so sure. Hermis chismagestus did live. Absolutely, sir. I want to know what Rosa knows. One of you is possibly misinformed. Maybe you. Maybe Rosa. Let's find out. Who finds out one of us is wrong. Michael wrote on my local legends episode with Horatio Clair from Last Weekend. What a great episode. Thank you Michael. And we had another short one from Constance who wrote on our Magic and Medicines episode all about OM. So good. Love this. And now nobody in the three Ravens community ever says "Ogham" by mistake anymore because of that oh. I mean I don't and I feel a little bit like one of those well actually people whenever I hear somebody say "Ogham" Nice we're in an in-group halfway Um then. At least specific one Mininat Monkey I'm presuming there's some sort of microscopic vampiric simian here I like it Mininat Monkey, the screech of the abyss Mininat Monkey is in the back catalogue and it. she. wrote on our series 2 Episode 5 episode about Cambridgeshire gripping. loving the accent And this is a reference to Martin's accent for his telling of the story of Harrow with the wake as errated by. We can call him a recurring three Ravens Anglo-Saxon era character Morton Lightford Yes, later on I hope that Mininat Monkey also enjoys the story from series 4 Episode 5 about Warwickshire as he's back on that one talking about Lady Goddaifa Furthermore for my story next week I'm doing another Anglo-Saxon character sort of. Ish but it's a lady this time who is also a ghost And that's what you get on three Ravens You don't get anywhere else A man in his forties narrating a story he's written from the perspective of a female Anglo-Saxon Ish ghost Yes, this is. You're going to do it in Morton Lightford as a voice bit for it Kind of like some. But try and do a little bit more feminine I'm looking forward to that already Thank you though Mininat Monkey, I look forward to future communications A message of the week though I think on Spotify comes from Alex who wrote on last week's episode about Kenarfenshire including my retelling of Galert, the faithful hound Very much with Eleanor here killing a dog and a wolf is a big no-no I knew what was coming the moment Martin mentioned a boy and his dog However great storytelling as usual and really interesting to hear about the different versions from around the world I would have lovely full-sum method Alex and I've had it on my side But short it says about Wales that Cluel and the Great was a dog killer Yeah Maybe that wolf was just passing by looking for a banana and a dog And if you found the story upsetting But how have you seen some of the artwork that Martin put on the social post? Yeah Because I found those more upsetting and distressing Yeah, like for a start there were multiple depictions of a dead wolf, not cool And then the poor dog Yeah, it's a very pathetic killer out there in that work Yeah, really glad you liked it though especially the bit about tale versions of variants Is that something we are trying to do more of on three ravens? Yeah, it's all about the melting pot isn't it Eleanor? The melting pot The melting pot The melting pot Well all matter is one Yes all matter is one in the melting pot All matter is one Yes Thank you obviously to everyone who has reviewed three ravens episodes on Spotify this week You are awesome Thank you also John for your email and to all the other people who have been emailing us as well Lots of wonderful conversations taking place All else that we can ask for really is for people to share on three ravens with your friends and family Including on the old social media Thank you both the way to the lovely witches on TikTok who have started becoming our friends Happy guys and the blue sky crew Yes We're sorry when not on blue sky a lot at the moment It's just a matter of having time to do things Correct And we know we are asking an awful lot at the moment Yes But we are trying to increase our review numbers So if you do have five minutes to review three ravens wherever you listen It really does help us to be discovered by new listeners So please drop some stars, tell us what you're enjoying It's so valuable to us It is And thank you so very much to those of you who have done so already Alright Eleanor, so what's coming up next on three ravens? On Thursday the newest episode of the three ravens bestiary will be coming out And you're going to be talking all about the magical mystical horse human hybrids that are sentaurs Although I hear a Pegasus eye Yes I'm doing sentaurs and Pegasus is flying horses We're talking about sentaurs and flyments All kinds of magic pony Ben on Saturday my interview with storyteller calf little will be coming out And beyond that you're taking us to historic flinch here next week Yes I have a scorching ghostly tale to tell that I hope everyone will enjoy Martin's also spent loads of time recently updating the three ravens website So it's all snazzy and shiny And yes, much better on mobile than it ever has before Yeah As we know that is how a lot of people are looking at it One of the things which has been updated is our calendar page with all our live events for 2026 so far With links to book tickets so do check that out and see if there's one near you Yes our first is actually an online event as well So everyone can attend this is the 2026 intelligence speech conference So yeah you can come to that wherever you are in the world We are giving our talk on the 28th February on the English demon There's going to be a Q&A afterwards and if you buy a ticket for the event then it gets you all 30 speakers, speeches and Q&A sessions So yeah very good value again We're working on adding more dates as well at the moment to keep checking back Otherwise though we will speak to you again very soon But while our story's gone that way we'll go this way And remember don't whistle tell you out of the woods Thanks in credit go to the folklore of Glamorgan by Alan Roderick Glamorgan folktales for children by calf little and folklore and folktories of whales by my reach of alien All of which were very helpful in my research for this episode Our theme song is the traditional folk ballad three ravens performed by Eleanor Conlon, Ben Harbour and Katie Summers And our logo is by Olly James Dare The three ravens podcast is a rusting star-last production Written and produced by us, Eleanor Conlon and Martin Vorks Thanks for listening Gods and every gentle man, such sound, such hocks and such name With a downed airy, dairy, dairy, down down With a downed airy, dairy, dairy, down down Right we're back to talk a bit more about the tales of Southern England tour We are And as a reminder, bookings are open right now, the link is in our show notes at the bottom of this episode And Tanya and Mike, who run travel pro consulting, are awesome people When you register, it's them you're talking with Tanya and Mike initially got in touch with us because they're long time listeners to the podcast And they also run a travel company and they decided hey why don't we combine our love of travel with our love of the three ravens podcast And though the tales of Southern England tour was born And so Tanya and Mike, working their magic, have curated this eight day tour around Southern England If you come, places that the trip stops off include proper visits to iconic places in seven of England's 39 historic counties And if this tour works, as in enough people come, Tanya and Mike have been chatting with us about possibilities for tours around other groups of historic English counties, as well as possibilities for international three ravens tours of this kind But this one has to work for, however, and spaces are limited So dear listener, you can book double or solo rooms Absolutely everything to do with the tales of Southern England tour itself will be taken care of by Tanya and Mike Their company is called Travel Pro because guess what, they do this stuff professionally and have been travel pros for several years Then let's meet up, talk about cool stuff together and visit some genuinely incredible places Of course there are episodes to go with the places on the tour, two laps around each of these historic counties Middlesex, Bargge, Oxfordshire, Somerset, Wiltshire, Hampshire and Kent Learn before you go or listen on the trip But how awesome is the idea of going on an eight day holiday with the kinds of people who listen to three ravens Think of the friends you could make, a whole bunch of witches, all rampaging round castles asking questions It's gonna be awesome And that's the thing, the ambition is to transform the traditional sightseeing tour into a journey of historical investigation This small group experience has been curated by us and features live storytelling and analysis from us at sites directly related to past episodes Just one example, The Queen of Bones, Elanah's story from our first lap Kent episode, series one, episode nine The story also features in our book Three Ravens, Folk Tales Well, the tales of Southern England tour takes you to Canterbury where you'll be able to look at the tomb of the woman herself, Joan of Navar And then visit Leeds Castle where she said to Haunt in the form of the Leeds Castle Spectre Also in Canterbury Cathedral, you can see the tomb referred to in Martin's tale about iconic English ghost story writer E.F. Benson from our second lap Kent episode story The Stain of Vice Proper creepy Yeah, so we'll have so much to talk about when we meet up, so much stuff for you to see if you can find as you go from place to place And you can book yourself on the Three Ravens tales of Southern England tour right now Just select a room type, double or single occupancy, register your information and Tanya and Mike will contact you directly The link is in the show notes and we'll hope to see you on the tour, which depends September 19th, 2026