My recent post about Tintagel with its connection to King Arthur raised many questions, not least of which was the location of the lake where he found, and later returned, his sword Excalibur. This being one of the most iconic moments in European legend, I thought it might be fun to look at this.
Sir Thomas Malory in his book “Le Morte D’Arthur” which was first printed by Thomas Caxton in 1485 described it thus: “therefore, said Arthur, take Excalibur, my good sword, and go with it to yonder water-side, and when thou comest there, I charge thee throw my sword in that water”.
This was in the year 537 A.D.
So, let us imagine an area in the remote south-west of England about 10,000 years ago. Today this place is called Bodmin Moor and in those far-off days it was populated by hunter-gatherers who wandered over the heavily wooded land, just scraping a living through their wits and cunning. It was only in later ages, about 3000 B.C. that farmers began to clear the trees in search of a more settled existence, and it was in the subsequent millenia that the building started of what we now see as eerie remains of their lives. Stone circles, monumental cairns, stone rows and barrows and burial sites began to dominate the landscape. It is these, and the wild and treeless moorland which give off that eerily haunted feeling, and in winter when the storms rage and the mist settles over everything there is a sinister and fearful ambience where the spirits of the past are almost physical in their presence.
In the heart of this wilderness lies Dozmary Pool, a lake which is glacial in its origins and is where legend tells us the Lady of the Lake both gave, and later received, Excalibur.
But this is not all. On windy,stormy nights the screams of desperate misery and the howls of hounds can be heard. Many say it is just the particular keening of the wind as it swirls past the stones and burial grounds, but others say that it is the eternal torment of Jan Tregeagle. His story is that in earthly life, in the start of the seventeenth century he made a pact with the Devil for material gain, and when he died his soul was forfeit. Tregeagle’s punishment was to sit by the Lake in perpetuity until he had emptied all the water using a limpet shell which had been holed. And at his feet were a pack of hounds to snap and bite him whenever he tired. But it doesn’t end there.
Legend has it that he managed to escape on one particularly dark and storm-tossed night. Now, occasionally, crossing the moors, can be seen a phantom hunt with hounds baying in pursuit of a fleeing figure, all making a truly ghostly cacophony with the wind and thunder.
Finally, this whole area of Bodmin has inspired countless generations of writers and film producers. Who has not read Jamaica Inn by Daphne Du Maurier? So a visit to this place is a must...but try to get there in the depths of winter to get its maximum atmosphere.
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You can also read this short story at the Western Gazette website. Click here to follow me and be the first to know when I publish my next article, short story or book review.
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