Noises Off: Folklore & Ghostly Goings-On

What do Oliver Cromwell, Sunken Churches, Wolves, and Witches all have in common? Along with all manner of boggarts and beasties, they are all associated with folklore and ghost stories.

I recently had cause to research the tale about the supposed killing of the last wolf in England and thought that folklore, generally, would be a good topic for a blog post.

Well, yes and no. One book on my shelves is over 800 pages long, with about five or six tales or legends on each page!

I thought I'd narrow it down to my favourites, one related to each part of history, from pre-Roman times to the seventeenth century, all to do with people, rather than beasts. And all very noisy!

The Lost Warriors
Hockwold, in the East Anglian Fens, was a burial place for three separate hoards of pewter items dating from Roman times. They were crushed and dismantled, giving rise to speculation that they were deliberately buried as some kind of offering. 

They were discovered in the 1960s, but long before that time, the Hockwold Fens were said to be haunted by ancient warriors. Their battle cries could be heard, sounding loud across the fenland. Perhaps they were British warriors, Iceni maybe, fighting the Roman invaders?

Some of the Hockwold Pewter

The Shrieking Pits
Between 850 and 110o, iron workings between Aylmerton and West Runton Heath in Norfolk left depressions in the fields. Slag from the furnaces found their way into the walls of nearby Saxon Churches. Shrieks ring out in the dark night, near St John's Church, utterances of a ghostly woman who is searching among the hollows for the body of her baby.

Legend has it that her husband buried the child in one of the pits, as well as murdering his wife. She now wanders, searching, for she does not know which hollow contains her child. As she looks into each of the holes, she shrieks with despair as it reveals itself to be empty.

St John's Church, Aylmerton

Wild Edric
Sometimes it's not the spirits of dead people that inspire these tales. The Vita Haroldi, a glorified celebration of the life of Harold Godwineson, last English king of pre-Conquest England, suggests that Harold did not die at Hastings, and later sources suggest that he lived until he was over 150 years old. 

More fantastical yet, was Edric, a Shropshire man who did survive the Conquest, and fought William as a rebel. He, apparently, was still alive in the nineteenth century, living in the mines under the Shropshire hills. His noise was a knocking sound, which would tell the miners where the best lodes were. He would ride out to foretell war, and was seen riding with his wife, Lady Godda, just before the outbreak of the Crimean war.

Snailbeach, Shropshire - note the mine chimney. Photo Humphrey Bolton

Screams at Castle Rising
I've visited Castle Rising many times. I used to drive past it on my way to work. For a time, it was the 'home' of Isabella, wife of Edward II. Froissart, and fourteenth century chronicler, says that her son, Edward III, imprisoned her there, after the execution of her lover, Mortimer. 

It is said that she went mad from loneliness and that her screams could be heard as she wandered the battlements, lamenting her fate. In fact, she was not a prisoner, although she certainly lived there for periods, as it was one of her own properties, but she actually died in Hertford Castle. Her son allowed her £3,ooo, rising to £4,000 per year, so it's likely that far from wandering the Norman keep as a prisoner, she lived a comfortable life.

Castle Rising 

Footsteps at Husbands Bosworth
The ghost of a Protestant lady prowls the hall at Husbands Bosworth in Leicestershire and her footsteps can be heard loud and clear as she wanders, unable to settle. She suffers remorse for not allowing a Catholic priest to attend a dying servant. Elsewhere in the hall, a stain on the floor remains permanently damp, and it is allegedly there as a result of communion wine, or blood, being spilled when a priest escaped Cromwell's men. 

Whether this is a reference to Thomas Cromwell of the Reformation, or Oliver Cromwell who was responsible for the destruction of churches in the seventeenth century, is not clear. Our poor lady would have been more reluctant, one assumes, to summon a Catholic priest during the reign of the latter. But the former was known as Hammer of the Monks, so we cannot be sure who it was who would have taken punitive measures against her.

Bosworth Hall - photo Richard Williams

This is just a tiny sample of the tales that survive. They appeal to me because of their historical context, and because if I'm going to encounter a ghost, I'd like it to make some kind or warning sound first!

Further reading/bibliography:~
Froissart's Chronicle
Vita Haroldi
The Old Stories - Kevin Crossley-Holland
The Lore of the Land - Westwood & Simpson
Folklore of the Welsh Border - Jaqueline Simpson
Norfolk Ghosts & Legends - Polly Howat
Tales of Old Norfolk - Polly Howat
Norfolk - A Ghosthunter's Guide - Neil Storey
Folk Stories and Heroes of Wales, Vols I&II - John Owen Huws

Sun Dancing - Skellig Michael

Sun Dancing by Geoffrey Moorhouse is a book which has been sitting on my shelves, unread, for many years. 

I bought it during those optimistic years when I was at home with three small children, thinking I'd have plenty of time for reading, and in the days when the History Book Club sent a paper magazine out every month, featuring a selected Book of the Month. 

I bought many such books, mainly because one didn't have to do much, because they were sent out automatically. Little did I know how long it would take to get to a stage when I had the time to read them all.

But now, after all these years (my kids have all left home) I am finally clearing the backlog. 

Skellig Michael - by Jerzy Strzelecki

Skellig Michael has been making itself known to me recently in a number of ways: a recent programme about the coastland of Ireland, for example, and a song by Loreena McKennitt.

Skellig - Music, Lyrics & Images: Youtube

Sun Dancing is a book of two halves. The first is an imagining, a story of the founding of the Christian Monastery told through the centuries and through the eyes of various monks, beginning with Fionán in 588, who sets out to the rocky island to found the community and ending in 1222 when the brothers decide to abandon the community.

The second half of the book explains the background to the supposed events, drawing on the primary sources and explaining how the author has come to his conclusions, beginning with an exploration of the likely identity of Fionán, and going on to explain the daily lives of the brothers, the differences between the Irish and the Roman Church, the building of the boats that took them out to the island and introductions to such characters as Brian Boru and Olaf Tryggvason and how they fit into the story.

Having read this book so many years after purchasing it, I am now reading it as an author myself. As such, I found that the fictionalised chapters are perhaps lacking a little drama, but this is not supposed to be a novel. As a device for bringing the daily existence of the monks to life, it works really well.

How often have we all read historical fiction and wondered whether or not it was 'true'? With this book half the chapters are taken up with explaining the information on which the stories are based. 

We only stay with each character for a chapter, so it is hard to get to know them, but this was not the intention of the author. Rather it was to allow us to see these people as 'real', in a way that I think only historical fiction can do. So here we have the best of both worlds, both fiction and non-fiction. I might not have needed to know the minor details about monastic life (although much of it was familiar to me anyway) but what I did come away with was a sense of who these people were. Their treacherous journeys out to the island, their daily struggles for existence. 

The graveyard and oratory - by Jibi44

Look at pictures of Skellig Michael now, perhaps listening to the McKennitt song. It is an eerie place. Visit, if you can - it is some 12 kilometres from the Kerry coast and boat trips are available. Moorhouse's book allows us to visualise the people who inhabited the place for over half a millennium. (Some might also recognise it as a location in the Star Wars films.)

George Bernard Shaw, visiting in 1910, described the "incredible, impossible, mad place" as "part of our dream world...I hardly feel real again."  

To be given names, to read about daily lives, adds substance yet leaves the mystery, the sense of other-worldliness. 

I recommend reading this book if you want to get a sense of time and place and learn more about this intriguing island.

Heroines of the Medieval World - a Review

Author Sharon Bennett Connolly has been a guest on the blog a couple of times already. That's not our only connection - in fact we have a few:

Firstly, we have met, in real life, which was lovely. We had dinner together and chatted about all things history, a passion which we share.

Secondly, we are both signed to Amberley Publishing, she with her new book, Heroines of the Medieval World, and me with my history of Mercia.

Thirdly, we have both written about Æthelflæd, Lady of the Mercians, me with my novel To Be A Queen, and of course in my forthcoming history of Mercia, and she in her new book.

So, it was with great interest that when my review copy of the book arrived, I went straight to the pages which concentrate on my favourite Medieval Heroine.

Often, I come across brief articles on the internet whose aim is to sum up the life of a medieval person. And often I'm left seething at the inaccuracies. I appreciate that it is difficult to sum of the life and career of an historical person in a few lines, or pages. Mistakes, repeated assumptions, and lack of understanding of the sources often make these pieces inaccurate and lacking in depth and substance.

But Sharon has succeeded, brilliantly, with her summation of 
Æthelflæd. 

In researching a novel of 120,00 words +, and then researching again, in depth, for a lengthy chapter on Æthelflæd and her family for the non-fiction book, I often feel that there's nothing written about her which I haven't read, and either agreed with, or dismissed.

Inevitably, for my purposes, I have needed to delve very deeply and read widely. So has Sharon, in order to deliver a really good, chunky book, about all her heroines. 

So, what can readers expect? The book is arranged thematically, rather than chronologically, so there are chapters on Warrior Women, Scandalous Heroines, Literary Heroines... you get the picture. Familiar women are featured - the afore-mentioned Lady of the Mercians, Eleanor of Aquitaine, Joan of Arc - but also some less well-known ones: Eleanor's daughters, for example, and Gwenllian of Wales, Anne of Woodstock, Constance of Castile, and many more intriguing and admirable women, all of whose stories deserve to be told.

What I loved about the pages concerning Æthelflæd is that, even allowing for the fact that she had many heroines to research and write about, Sharon has taken her research as far as time and resources would allow, and produced a succinct, accurate* portrayal, summing up what we know from the sources available, and not once falling into the trap of repeating unsubstantiated assumptions.

Occasionally, when reading it, I would know that there was more to a particular episode, but that is for the reader to discover, should they choose to research for themselves. Not once, though, did I think, "that's wrong," or, "not that old chestnut again."

I've not yet had the chance to read the whole book, but all I can say is this: based on the pages pertaining to Æthelflæd, what we have here is a well-researched, well-written and very accessible book about a series of remarkable women.

An excerpt from the book:

The daughter of Alfred the Great, King of Wessex, one of England’s greatest kings. Æthelflæd was born about 870, the eldest child of King Alfred and his wife, Ealhswith. Alfred’s biographer, Asser, says Ealhswith was a member of the Mercian royal house through her mother, Eadburh. Around 886 Æthelflæd was married to Æthelred, ealdorman of Mercia and a trusted lieutenant of her father. Æthelred ruled over the English half of the Mercian kingdom, which had been dissected by the Vikings but submitted to King Alfred’s overlordship. The marriage was a political alliance, intended to strengthen Saxon resistance to the Danes, who were now occupying Northumbria, Yorkshire and East Anglia. The resulting close relationship of Mercia and Wessex was only further strengthened by the renewed Viking attacks of the 890s. During the early years of their marriage the young couple appear to have settled in London, the city that had been entrusted to Æthelred’s care by Alfred. Æthelflæd seems to have taken after her father – she was a strong, brave woman and is often regarded more as a partner to Æthelred than a meek, obedient wife. The couple jointly presided over provincial courts. The ‘Mercian Register’, a fragment of a Mercian chronicle, included in some versions of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, records that Æthelflæd was exercising regal powers in the region even before her husband’s death. In his final years Æthelred increasingly suffered from illness, during which time Æthelflæd assumed greater authority. The couple had only one child, a daughter, Ælfwynn. According to William of Malmesbury (writing in the 12th century) the lack of more children was due to Æthelflæd’s avoidance of marital relations, possibly due to a fear of dying in childbirth. Malmesbury quotes her as saying it was ‘unbecoming a daughter of a king to give way to a delight, which after a time produced such painful consequences’. 

Sharon has been fascinated by history for over 30 years now. She has studied history academically and just for fun – and even worked as a tour guide at historical sites, including Conisbrough Castle. Born in Yorkshire, she studied at University in Northampton. For Christmas 2014, her husband gave her a blog as a gift. Sharon started researching and writing about the lesser-known stories and people from European history, the stories that have always fascinated. Quite by accident, she started focusing on medieval women. She is currently working on her second non-fiction book, Silk and the Sword: The Women of the Norman Conquest, which will be published by Amberley in late 2018.

Find Sharon on her blog, History...The Interesting Bits

Other blogs in this blog tour for Sharon's book include:

• Tuesday 31st October –  Sarah Bryson
• Wednesday 1st November - Susan Higginbotham
• Thursday 2nd November - Nathen Amin
• Friday 3rd November - Tony Riches
• Saturday 4th November - Gary's Medieval Archives
• Sunday 5th November - Kristie Dean
• Monday 6th November - Stephanie Churchill
• Tuesday 7th novmeber - Lil's Vintage World
• Wednesday 8th November - The Review
• Thursday 9th November - The History Geeks
• Friday 10th November - Amy Licence
• Saturday 11th November - SJA Turney
• Sunday 12th November - Medievalists.Net

There's an additional review HERE

* as far as we can ever be truly accurate about events which happened over a millennium ago

Did Charlemagne's Imperial Coronation Change Anything?

Last month I blogged about administration in the reign of Charlemagne. This time I’m looking at what, if anything, changed after the imperial coronation in 800.

After Charlemagne was crowned Holy Roman Emperor on Christmas Day 800, there was no real profound transformation of royal power or fundamental reform of it, but the imperial power supplemented it. Certainly there was a quest for definition; Einhard (Charlemagne’s biographer) mentions that Charlemagne ordered unwritten laws and customs to be defined and written.

Einhard

Along with the concept of imperial power came new ideas of fidelity and devotion. The basic element of feudalism arose; Charlemagne would safeguard the Christian Church and its people, in turn they must observe the laws of Christ and the Emperor.

The Imperial Coronation by Friedrich Kaulbach

In March 802, there was a meeting of the Diet at Aachen. Missi were dispatched to all parts of the empire. These missi were not chosen, as they were usually, from the palace vassals, but from ecclesiastical and lay aristocracy; archbishops, dukes and counts who would be less open to corruption. They had with them a written document in support of the oral instructions, a Capitulare Missorum. 

This fourth great capitulary of Charlemagne’s reign came about because of a psychological crisis within Charlemagne himself. His coronation had given him a more acute awareness of his responsibilities before God. From this arose a clearer view of the contrast between what ought to be, and what was, in the Frankish state. The capitulary presents a programme of imperial government of Church and State in the Empire and contains numerous purely ecclesiastical dispositions and many others of an administrative, judicial and political nature, and articles defining a new and more exacting concept of the fidelity owed to the emperor.

One of Charlemagne's capitularies

To initiate the new regime, it was necessary to lay down and enforce rules of conduct to be observed in the future, confirm and apply rules already in force, but most of all to eradicate existing abuses. It was hoped that these new missi of high standing would be conscientious. They were instructed to investigate complaints, take note of the existing situation and where possible remedy abuses. 

Where there were abuses that they were unable to remedy, the emperor would deal with them himself. They were to report on any gaps or defects they found in the laws, and they were to publish the regulations contained in the capitulary and see that they were enforced.

Homage in the Middle Ages

The duty of fidelity to the emperor was no innovation, and the concept was fundamentally negative; to do nothing that would endanger him to whom fidelity was owed. After the coronation, the duty was not only to refrain from certain actions, but there were certain positive obligations. These included obedience to the divine precepts and to the commands of Christian charity, obedience to the emperor’s orders and respect for imperial property, performance of military service and promotion of the regular course of justice. There was also a new formula for the oath; it became more like the oath sworn by vassals, and more religious in character. 

Swearing the oath of fealty

The whole programme was markedly religious in nature. Charlemagne became aware of his new power, bestowed on him by God. The way the emperor discharged his power indicated reward or punishment in the next world. Charlemagne was also responsible for the attitude of his subjects; they must also perform their duty to God. 

As Charlemagne had to protect the Church, his subjects were obliged to do likewise. There had to be harmony between the lay and ecclesiastical authorities. Bishops and abbots were ordered only to appoint upright and conscientious men. Charlemagne’s fate in the next world depended on the attitude and conduct of churchmen who wielded authority. It was ordered that the clergy should lead a common life. There was also a call for a stricter observance of their rule by monks and nuns.

There were 15 articles in the capitulary relating to religious matters, and religion enters into other aspects. The missi, as we have seen were chosen for their piety, and the capitulary also deals with protecting churches and their property. Disorders in monastic establishments annoyed Charlemagne, so autonomy for houses of monks and nuns was discouraged, indeed many were placed under very strict control of the bishop or even archbishop.

Among the more political articles, Charlemagne’s increased sense of power is clearly detectable. He demanded much more personal devotion from his subjects. He placed a strong emphasis on his Bannum, his power to command or to prohibit and to punish any contravention of his orders or prohibitions. Some of these orders and prohibitions he proclaimed permanent by making them law. They forbade the harming of churches, widows, orphans, or the ‘economically weak’. They prohibited rape, group assaults on a house, and arson. They sought to secure more dependable military service for the king. These eight examples are the best known and Charlemagne frequently called attention to their permanent character in his capitularies. 

The Coronation - by assistants of Raphael

After the imperial coronation, refusal to submit to the Bannum, or evasion of it by trickery, or attempts to restrict its application (in particular the eight examples) could not be tolerated. Non-obedience would in future count as infidelity. 

No-one was to refuse military service, and counts were not to grant unwarranted exemptions. Future contraventions would count as infidelity. This was important to maintain the quality and strength of the imperial fighting force.

As emperor, Charlemagne was the successor of Christian emperors who had been legislators, and he henceforth engaged in legislative activity with less caution, even in the realm of private law. Like the Roman emperors, he ordered that judgement should be made in accordance with the written text of the law where one existed. The chief object of his judicial reforms was to guarantee everyone an opportunity to claim and exercise his rights under the law. So there was a series of measures imposing on the courts a strict regard for the law. 

The Construction of Charlemagne's Palace at Aachen

A knowledge of the law was required of the judicial officials concerned with the administration of justice in courts under the jurisdiction of ecclesiastical authorities, in their capacity as seigneurs of great estates, especially when the church in question enjoyed the privileges of immunity. It was considered important for the law to be applied strictly in the seigneurial courts, in particular in those under the jurisdiction of churches with immunity.

There was much more personal intervention from the emperor, and it is implied that he actually presided over a palace court. This was another indication of his awareness of his responsibilities for his subjects, and of his heightened sense of his accountability to God. The punishment for perjurers, the amputation of the right hand, was no novelty, but now the responsibility for suppressing this crime was placed on the palace courts.

Charlemagne's Throne: attribution

These measures and reforms were not entirely effective, but the ideas remained for Charlemagne’s successors to take up. More than anything they show how his sense of responsibility increased with his new power. It is obvious that he took these new responsibilities seriously, especially where the welfare of the Church and his subjects was concerned. Once he had determined the significance of imperial power, he undertook to instigate reforms which would carry out the obligations he now had as ruler of his people, and as a successor to the Christian Roman emperors.

Further reading:
The Life of Charlemagne – Einhard University of Michigan Press
The Coronation of Charlemagne – Robert Folz
Frankish Institutions under Charlemagne – FL Ganshof
The Carolingians and the Frankish Monarchy – FL Ganshof

[images are in the public domain unless otherwise attributed]

Review - The Needle in the Blood by Sarah Bower

You could call this the original 'stitch n bitch' story, since it is a tale woven (sorry, couldn't help myself) around the making of the Bayeux Tapestry. But actually, this book is so much more than the story of the sewing of the famous embroidery, and it seems to have left readers somewhat divided. As it's nearly the anniversary of the battle, it seemed timely to revisit this book.

Odo rallies William's troops during the battle in 1066

It begins on the battlefield, where Odo, brother of the conqueror, is introduced. Odo is a bishop and it is he who will commission the embroidery. This brings him into contact with Gytha, an Englishwoman. The chapter where she is introduced was more powerful, in my opinion. I've read about the battle itself many times, but what is less often written about is the immediate aftermath; the destruction of the world as the English knew it. Those early scenes of panic, confusion and fear are realistically drawn.

"Rape. That's what they all believe, the sullen crowd gathered before Winchester's West Gate, in the square where the tax man usually collect the duty on beasts brought into the city for market. It's clear from their faces, fear mixed with impotence and embarrassment, and the round eyed children, clinging to their mothers' skirts, who don't understand but just want to look at the soldiers."

A little boy darts out of the crowd, dazzled by the ornaments on the bishop's harness, and is trampled. The soldiers panic, one runs the grieving mother through with his lance. There is horror on the streets of England's capital. In this scene, Gytha first lays eyes on Bishop Odo. 

I'm giving no secrets away when I say that Gytha and Odo fall in love, but theirs is no straight-forward story, and I'll say no more about that, for it would spoil the enjoyment for anyone new to this book. Bower takes a scene from the tapestry (show below) in which an unknown woman, Ælfgyva, appears with a 'certain cleric' and comes up with an interesting reason for the inclusion of the scene.

Ubi unus clericus et Ælfgyva

This is an almost completely fictional tale, and I don't mind that. If I'm told at the outset that a book is a work of fiction, I'm quite happy to judge it as such. The setting is authentic and Bower has clearly done her research. If you want to know why this book has divided readers, look no further than the reviews on a well-known online retailer - the main concerns are the use of the third person present tense, and the lack of narrative structure.

It is a clever book. I read it many years ago and I don't recall the use of the present tense bothering me, particularly. Sometimes it is just a bit too clever, but there are many passages where the writing, and the insight, are sublime.

At one point, Gytha lies awake, unable to sleep as the wind picks up, remembering how the sound of her father checking the salt pans and barrels in the yard on stormy nights used to be comforting. That passage resonated with me; don't we all sometimes wish we were young again, with grown-ups watching out for us - why should eleventh-century folk be any different in that regard?

"When Odo is with her, she loves stormy nights, secure in his arms, curtained and cosseted. Even when he gets up, to check for broken shutters and fallen branches or calm his horses, the feeling of safety stays with her. Her father used to do the same; several times a night on rough nights she would hear...her parents whispering together, clothes rustling  and the creak of hinges as he went out ..." 

I found the book challenged me, because I am anti-Norman, and could not understand why on earth Gytha would become so enamoured of Odo. It dared me to alter my perception and by the end, I had begun to understand, a little, at least, the attraction between the two of them.

Reviewers have expressed surprise at the portrayal of Archbishop Lanfranc, but I had no difficulty in believing in him as a villain - probably my anti-Norman bias again - even though he perhaps strays onto the pantomime stage from time to time.

This is not an easy read; the flashbacks sneak up on you so you have to concentrate. But it is a brave book, a strong book, and quite different from a lot of historical fiction. The detail about how the 'tapestry' was constructed is fascinating, and, I'm sure, accurately portrayed.

As for the suppositions, well, Bower claims artistic licence, and why not? As with so many other periods of history, with no-one to ask, we can only wonder, 'what if'...

It is a 'Marmite' kind of book, I suspect. But if you are interested in this period of history, give it a try. Even if you don't find that you love it, I think you will admire the author's accomplished way with words, and the different approach to novel writing. You will be immersed in period detail, and you will emerge enriched.

[A word of warning - the language in this book is often x-rated and at times very explicit.] 

English Place Names

I often drive through a town or village and wonder about its name. There are some strange ones out there - Chapel-en-le-Frith, Stoke Poges, Egremont, Kingston Bagpuize, Ashby de la Zouch... 

Also odd are the ones that aren't pronounced anything like they should be. Happisburgh in Norfolk, for example. Yep, that's right, it's pronounced Hazeburra. Oh I know, let's not even get started on the boroughs, and burghs, some of which are pronounced burra, and some bruff! (Although I shall return to them later and maybe clear up the confusion.)

With a lot of place-names, it's easy to break them down into their constituent parts and work out what they mean.

The OE (Old English) place names seem to be are straightforward. In an earlier blog post about Wulfric Spott I mentioned his mother, Wulfrun, who gave her name to Wolverhampton.

Her personal name forms the first part of the town name, and the rest consists of ham and ton:~

Ham = farm, settlement, homestead (ON Toft) but we'll see that this is not quite so straightforward...

Ton = enclosure
So it would seem that many place names contain elements of OE or ON (Old Norse) which are simply words to denote topographical or geographical features.

Wic (OE)/By (ON) = market

Thorpe - secondary settlement
Leigh/ley (OE) = woodland clearing- so my fictional village of Ashleigh in Alvar the Kingmaker is 'clearing in the ash forest'
Thwaite (ON) = clearing in Old Norse
Ing (OE) = people

As you can see, the above village name has the elements ing and ham. Great Massingham is in Norfolk. In Cumbria there are a lot of place names with ON origins : Kirkby Lonsdale, Kirkby Thore, Seathwaite.

So far, so straightforward. But all is not as it seems. In her Signposts to the Past, Margaret Gelling dispels a lot of the accepted thinking.

To go back to the element ham:~ Another OE word was hamm, which was not connected. Kingsholme near Gloucester does not mean king’s home, but Kyngeshamme, a water meadow on the royal estate.

“The uncompounded name Ham offers no problems, as it always derives from the topographical term hamm, which has been considered to mean ‘land in a river (bed), promontory, dry ground in a marsh, river-meadow. It may be used on its own, as in East and West Ham, or in a first element, as in some instances of Hampton, but it occurs most frequently as a final element. The habitative term hām, (village, estate) is not used as a simplex place-name and only occurs as a first element if the name derives form a compound appellative like hāmtūn, hāmstede.”

Another pair of similar words which cause trouble are būr (bower) and burh (fort) - and we need to distinguish beorg, from burh, and its dative byrig. Had they been differentiated in Middle English beorg would give berrow or barrow, and burh would mostly give borough while byrig would give bury. Archaeological evidence is needed in these cases to establish exactly how the place-names developed.

Burh can mean not only a hill fort but also a defended manor house as well as the later 'town'.

In the country as a whole, Bury is more common than Borough, Burgh or Brough. The OE final -h could develop into -f in pronunciation but not spelling, as in laugh and tough, and this led to burh becoming Burf as in Abdon Burf, and sometime Berth.

Later on there are instances of byrig meaning manor house:~ Bibury, from Beage, daughter of Leppa, and burh meaning monastery. In the case of Fladbury, this is probably derived from Flæde’s byrig, possibly a manor house built by a widow. In the case of the element ing, it had always been assumed that newcomers took what land they chose, and that places such as Hastings (followers of Hæsta) and Reading (followers of Réad) were believed to mark those settlements. But Gelling says these were not 'primary settlement' place-names but actually came much later.

Ing sometimes has no filial relationship at all – Clavering in Essex comes about from the element ing being added to clœfre (clover) to give place where the clover grows. The same construction applies to Docking in Norfolk, from docce, the place where dock grows.

There has been a suggestion in recent times that some names came about because the Anglo-Saxons settlers mispronounced the Celtic names they discovered, much as the English in WWI pronounced Ypres as Wipers. Gelling is not convinced that the newcomers had such poor linguistic skills, and she points out that this was not the fate of all the Celtic place names.

Some tun names might have come about because of the Mercian administrators who might have been in the habit of describing places which had Celtic names as the ea-tun (river settlement) and that these names eventually stuck, but this is only a theory.

Where the Celtic, or Pre-Celtic names have been preserved, it is largely in the names of rivers. 

The use of the word walh to mean slave is probably a misconception, and it's more likely that it means ‘a Celt’; however, the reality is that most slaves would have been (descendants) of British who had that status under the Romans. 

The seventh-century king of the Magonsæte, who appears in my latest novel, Cometh the Hour was Merewalh, which has been translated as 'famous Welshman'. That being accepted, it seems unlikely that walh meant 'slave'. 

If the Angles and Saxons had problems with the place-names they encountered, the same was certainly true of the Norman invaders.

The initial sound Y was a problem for the Normans, so Yarrow became Jarrow, Yesmond became Jesmond. These are fairly easy to spot once armed with the knowledge that the letter J was not in use in the Anglo-Saxon alphabet. So too the letter Z, which appears in names such as Belsize.

The initial sound in words such as thorn was unknown to the Normans, and they replaced it with T so that Tilsworth probably would have developed into Thilsworth had the conquest not happened.

Wic, the element identified as meaning market, was borrowed from Latin vicus. Before it was used as salt-working centre and ‘dairy farm’, it might have been used by the earliest English speaking people to refer to Romano-British settlements, or to Roman administrative units.

Gelling points out that more than 75% of the instances of places called wīchām were situated directly on or not more than a mile from a major Roman Road.

Often  tūn (ton) developed where an estate was once part of a larger demesne. An estate given to a thegn named Wulfgar came over time to be called Aughton (Aeffe’s estate, Aeffe being Wulfgar’s widow. Likewise an estate granted to Sibba becomes Sibton. Some ton names are more general, Preston (priests), Charlton, (ceorla-ton, enclosure of the the ceorls).

Grim is a nickname for Woden, but not all Grims- are of this origin. Grimr was a common ON personal name. So we cannot assume that all Grims are the devil.

And speaking of personal names, they aren’t all. Whitchurch could be Hwīta’s church, but it could also simply be the white church. 

Another key place in my new novel is Oswestry, universally believed to have developed from Oswald's tree, the site of his killing. But Warburton developed from Wærburg’s farm or estate, where the religious house was dedicated to St Werburgh, probably because the name suggested it, and the same logic should, according to Gelling, be applied to Oswestry, where the dedication of St Oswald probably arose from a place name which did not originally refer to the saint.

Sometimes the ON and OE elements are hard to differentiate.
Brunum or Brunnum in ON corresponds to burna (OE), which gives us the modern burn. Similarly, Lythe could be from ON lith, (slope) or from OE hlith, with the same meaning.

Beck - ON

But there are some words which have no English cognate. Going back to Cumbria we find Wasdale and Watendlath, containing vatn (lake,) Fossdale containing fors (waterfall,) and thveit, (thwaite -clearing.)

Many Scandinavian settlement names of eastern England can be divided into three main categories -by, -thorp, and those combined with English tun combined with a Norse personal name.

PH Sawyer argued that Norse place-names did not denote the settlements of a victorious army, but more likely inferior land. Older villages were probably already on the best sites.
Alford, for example, is much larger than the surrounding places with -by and -thorpe names.

Kirby/Kirkby generally denotes a church village, and is usually borne by places with desirable locations and it is likely that it replaces an older English, or perhaps Celtic name. It might have simply been that kirkby was an appellative applied to any village with a noteworthy church.

Mitchelgate (gate=ON gata - road) in Kirkby Lonsdale

Moving into the the post-Conquest era brings us the wonderful place-names such as Ashby de la Zouch and Egremont. But many of the French names were just stereo-typical descriptions, giving us beautiful seat, beautiful place, beautiful hill. (Belvoir, Beaulieu, Beauvale, Beaumont)

So, next time you drive past a place-name sign, don't assume the obvious; there may be more to the story of the name than meets the eye...