This hill has loomed over the Guisborough to Whitby road for generations, a constant, brooding shape on the horizon. Its symmetry is so precise, its position so solitary, that people have long refused to believe it is natural. Clearly the work of men. Or gods. Or giants. One giant in particular: Wade, whose name is scattered across these moors like the scatter from his labours.
The most enduring legend dates back to the 14th century. A farmer, checking his sheep on the slopes, discovered a tunnel hidden in the hillside. Crawling in, the passage gradually grew taller until he could walk upright. Deep inside, he found a great oak door. Behind it, a group of men lay sleeping around a table, armed and clad in chainmail. One stirred, introduced himself as King Arthur, and said they were waiting—dormant until needed. He made the farmer swear to keep the secret, then sent him on his way. The farmer, naturally, returned the next day but found nothing. Some say if you walk backwards round the hill three times, the door opens. Perhaps the farmer forgot. Or perhaps he remembered too much1COUNTY FOLK-LORE. VOL. II. PRINTED EXTRACTS No. 4. Page 1. Published DAVID NUTT, 57-59 LONG ACRE. LONDON. 1901 https://archive.org/stream/countyfolklore02folkuoft/countyfolklore02folkuoft_dju.txt.
Of course, geologists will insist the hill is a Jurassic relic, shaped by glaciers twenty thousand years ago. How boring.
Its original name may have been Freyasberg, dedicated to the Norse goddess of beauty and fertility. But it might also come from the old Anglian ‘Freeburgh’—a meeting place of the local court. Either way, it was a place for decisions. Possibly divine ones.
- 1COUNTY FOLK-LORE. VOL. II. PRINTED EXTRACTS No. 4. Page 1. Published DAVID NUTT, 57-59 LONG ACRE. LONDON. 1901 https://archive.org/stream/countyfolklore02folkuoft/countyfolklore02folkuoft_dju.txt
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