Folklore of Lincolnshire (7 page)

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

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

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

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

However, he apparently went too far when he captured the local priest’s daughter, Rowena. She was known throughout the district for her beauty and the Iceni were extremely angry when they heard she was being used as Valerian’s play thing. Rowena’s father, Mandru, called for a meeting of fellow priests at the temple of the sea god, and many of the oppressed tribesmen attended. All present had grievances with the Romans, and all were in favour when Mandru suggested a rebellion. Unfortunately, however, their meeting was stormed by Roman guards who killed many, and seven priests, including Mandru, were taken to Valerian’s palace and tortured. Luckily, Mandru managed to escape but his six companions were hung on crosses to die. Mandru wept bitterly for his fellow priests and that day he swore an oath that he would help his people. He was not seen for some time but a few months later a stranger came to the area. He visited the streets of the town and whenever he came across a British Iceni slave he whispered a warning to them: ‘Friend, arise this night and be gone. Destruction comes fast upon this city and if thou tarry, there shall be no escape.’
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On hearing this old man’s warning, many of the Iceni took heed and packed up their belongings ready to steal away in the middle of the night. Then, some time during the night, a sudden and ferocious wind blew in from the sea. It blew open the gates of the city and as every Roman was asleep, the way to escape was made clear for the British slaves. The Iceni gasped in amazement and crept out stealthily, so as not to wake the guards. When they made it to the woods, they met up with other tribes from nearby towns who had also had the warning from the mysterious stranger. As they were talking and exchanging stories, the stranger himself appeared among them and to everyone’s astonishment they discovered it was Mandru, bidding them to listen to him: ‘There is no time to delay – the gods are angry with Rome and intend to destroy every Roman city. It has been revealed to me where I shall lead you, but delay not or we shall all be lost.’ He then led them far away to the high ground.

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

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

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

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

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

Around the fifth century, during the time of King Vortigern, the Saxons were given the Fenlands in Lincolnshire to inhabit. Hengist and his brother Horsa had asked Lord Vortigern to give them homes, as they had been exiled from Germany. Vortigern, thinking they were savages but could be useful for protection, gave them land in Lincolnshire. McLeish tells us that Vortigern hoped that the draining of the marshes and muddy fields and fens would use up all their energy and leave them no time to be a threat to him. One day Hengist asked if he could build a castle in Lincolnshire, ‘…as large as can be encircled by a single leather thong and let me invite more of my followers from Germany, enough to fill it’.
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Vortigern envisaged how short leather thongs were and thought it would be a tiny castle with just a small number of soldiers, and so gave permission. Jennifer Westwood quotes Abraham de la Pryme, describing the story in the 1600s:

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

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

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

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

Polly Howat relates the story of the ‘Tiddy Mun Without a Name’. He was a creature who lived in waterholes in the Fens, only coming out at night. He had the appearance of an old man, with long white hair and a beard, but he was only the size of a small child. He wore grey so that he was difficult to see at dusk, his laugh sounded more like a screech and no one ever knew his name. He had a strange relationship with the people of the Fens, for although they were wary of him he would help them when the flood waters came. The people would call to him, ‘Tiddy Mun, without a name, the water’s rough!’
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In the morning the flood water would have gone, as the Tiddy Mun had taken it away, and they knew he would always be good to them as long as the Fens remained. However, with the influx of the Dutch and the draining work they were doing, local people were scared that bad times were ahead.