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The legend of the Leyburn Shawl, retold

FROM time to time, I am asked by visitors to the dales if I know why Leyburn Shawl is so-called.

There is a wonderful legend that seeks to provide an explanation although detractors would probably stress that the word shawl comes from shaw meaning a wood. Alternatively, it might derive from a very ancient Norse word schalle or skali that mean huts or shelters. Indeed, on the land below the Shawl there are said to be some remains of prehistoric dwellings that used to be occupied by early dales folk.

Certainly, the vista from the Shawl is splendid even if much of it is viewed through trees. Penhill is very prominent on the horizon, with several small villages in a fine expanse of Wensleydale plus, if conditions are right, the mighty sound of Aysgarth Falls, particularly when the River Ure is heavy with flood water. Access to the Shawl is easy - you leave the top of Leyburn market place and go through Shawl Mews to the right of the Bolton Arms Hotel, and then follow your nose.

Not far away is Castle Bolton, not to be confused with Bolton Abbey, and it was this mighty stronghold that gave rise to the legend of Leyburn Shawl. It was home to the Scropes from 1284, a family that produced two earls, 20 barons, four High Treasurers and two Chief Justices.

There was also a Lord Chancellor and an archbishop, with many family members being honoured as Knights of the Garter. It is a formidable record. Although they clung tenaciously to their Catholic faith, they were trusted by Queen Elizabeth I at a time she was persecuting so many members of that church. But it was she who imposed a difficult task upon the Scropes and their famous castle.

Elizabeth was worried that Mary Queen of Scots might make a bid for the English throne and so she ordered that Mary be held in safe custody, possibly for her own good. The Scrope family of Castle Bolton was entrusted at least temporarily with that task.

Mary arrived in the middle of July, 1568, coming from Carlisle via Appleby and crossing the Westmorland border near Kirkby Stephen. She crossed Mallerstang Moors to Hawes, and travelled down Wensleydale to Castle Bolton. She was accompanied by six personal attendants, 20 carriage horses, 23 saddle horses and 40 men to look after the horses and deal with other matters during the journey. All had to be accommodated in and around the castle, and many of the men were boarded in nearby farms and cottages.

Even though she was technically a prisoner, Mary was not placed in the awful dungeon but had her own suite of rooms within the castle along with some servants.

She remained for about six months. It is said she inscribed her name Marie R on one of the windows, using a diamond ring, although that pane of glass was eventually broken in an accident.

During her stay, Mary was allowed out of the castle to go hunting and she was also an honoured guest at some of the mansions in the area. It is said she spent one night at Nappa Hall, with the bed she used being kept for many years afterwards.

But, according to the legend, Mary became quickly bored with this controlled existence and wanted her freedom. Her opportunity came one day when she managed to dodge her guards and climb out of a window at the castle from where she managed to flee into the surrounding countryside. There are stories that she was aided by friends, but she wanted to reach the nearest town - Leyburn.

Having hunted in the area and travelled around the castle, she knew her way around and fled along the high path through the woods leading to Leyburn. Not surprisingly, the alarm was quickly raised, with men, horses and dogs being mustered to mount a search. As she ran through the trees she could hear the baying of the hounds behind her but, so the story goes, in her desperate flight her shawl caught on some briars and was dragged from her body. With no time to halt and retrieve it, she ran on but the shawl confirmed her recent presence.

Mary, who would be only 26 at the time, was caught and returned to Castle Bolton where she remained until January, 1569.

That incident, so the story tell us, is why that part of Wensleydale is known as Leyburn Shawl while some say that it is the place that Mary Queen of Scots finally lost her freedom.

BLACKBIRDS have been particularly active in recent days, and my morning walk was enlivened by four or five noisy males in the midst of some kind of dispute.

They were waging battle deep inside a bush covered with holly so I could not count them accurately.

They were only a yard or so from me at one point, clearly unaware of, or unconcerned by, my presence, and they were making a tremendous noise.

Despite the intensity of their scrapping, there was no female in sight. I would expect battles of some kind around this time of year because it is when they begin courting and when they are probably seeking nesting sites or even constructing new nests.

I gained the impression that their behaviour was something to do with marking the boundaries of their territory because birds can be extraordinarily possessive when it comes to identifying and marking their own patch of England.

In claiming a territory, a bird will consider the cover it generates and the food it will provide. It needs to be a safe place in which to build a nest and rear a family and once the male has selected his patch, he will fiercely defend it against all others of the same species. It is rarely that they bother about intruders not of their own species - what they seek is their own special place with all the amenities it has to offer.

Birds have different methods of marking their territories so that others are aware of the claim to that piece of land. Singing from high places at different points of the boundary is perhaps the most usual means.

Those boundaries will not be clearly defined, although the current resident will be aware of them, consequently a territory might be described as that parcel of land defended by the current occupant. Although he will not share his territory with a rival of the same species, he will permit other species to enter and nest there.

That could explain why our small garden will probably contain a nesting blackbird, robin, blue tit, house sparrow, wren and even a thrush, all males. Other males of those species enter at their peril.

In fact, however, a territory can be as small as a hole in a tree or a tiny patch of earth to thousands of acres patrolled by something like a golden eagle or buzzard.

I am sure the blackbirds I encountered upon my morning route were settling some kind of claim to the highly desirable length of hedgerow in question, but this morning when I passed, it was all very quiet. Perhaps I shall soon notice a nest in there.

AS I pen these notes, several blackthorns in my area are in splendid bloom, their white blossom producing a most welcome spring-like touch to the landscape. Our countryside has not yet recovered from winter, mild though it was, but even as these notes appear in print, the grass will be greener and fresh leaves will be appearing on hedgerows and trees.

Country wisdom advises us to beware a blackthorn winter because even if that shrub does display its beautiful flowers, a sudden cold spell may follow.

12:02pm Friday 28th March 2008

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