THE term "well" appears in several locations and village names in this region but also in other parts of the country. The city of Wells is one example, but there are others including Wellsborough, Tunbridge Wells, Wells-next-the-Sea and Wellwood. The names are self-explanatory because they imply that a spring or well was, or still is, within the locality often with a long history. A number of those wells have been flowing for many centuries.

In some cases, the wells bear names of saints – Hinderwell, near Whitby, is named after Whitby’s famous St Hilda, who is supposed to have blessed this well more than 1,300 years ago. The Drumming Well is also known as St John’s Well at Harpham in East Yorkshire but this is the second well in the village. The first was a pond which has disappeared.

However, in this region there is another name for a well. It comes to us from the Norse invaders of the past and is "keld". Keld Head is a pond on the western outskirts of Pickering while the wilds of the upper reaches of Swaledale provide us with the Dales village of Keld, said to be the most isolated in England. With a name like that, it is not surprising that Keld is rich with waterfalls.

The name Keld also appears in smaller units such as Keldholme, Hallikeld Farm and Hallikeld View but it was also used to indicate local parishes or wapentakes. The Halikeld Wapentake comprised several villages and localities dating to the 11th century when it was known as Halichelde, later becoming Halikeldshir (sic) in 1157, but in the Domesday Book was considered part of the West Riding of Yorkshire.

I have no record of how many ancient wells remain in use in this region, some perhaps being little more than springs of fresh water while others might have ornate stone surrounds and be named in honour of a local saint. This link with holiness arose because much of the drinking water of ancient times was fouled by human and animal waste which produced sickness and even death to those who drank it or washed in it.

Water emerging pure and clean from springs and wells was therefore believed to be blessed by God or the saints, hence many became known as haligkelds or hallikelds, which means holy wells. The term Hallikeld remains in use to this day and is sometimes associated with parish areas or local authority divisions in the Dales. The name has its origins in the old Norse language once used in this country.

Many holy wells were named in honour of local saints. Lastingham’s two wells were named after Saints Cedd and Chad due to their association with a local monastery.

One of the two wells at Harpham in East Yorkshire is named in honour of St John of Beverley while the Yorkshire Dales are rich with wells named after saints: in various parts of the Dales they include several Lady Wells in honour of the Blessed Virgin Mary, but also St Helen’s Wells, St Hilda’s Well and St John’s Well. There is St Margaret’s Well at Burnsall and St Bridget’s Well near Ripon.

Some wells are named in honour other famous people such as Thor’s Well at Thorsgill, or Kettlewell after Ketel, a Saxon nobleman.

Curiously, there are two wells named after St Alkelda, one at Middleham in the former North Riding and the other at Giggleswick in the former West Riding of Yorkshire. In both cases, the parish churches are named after St Alkelda, the only two in this country to bear that name.

Keen-eyed readers will have noted that the word "keld" appears in this saint’s name, and likewise students of our saints will know that no one of that name appears in the calendar of saints. There are suggestions that this name refers rather more to the well than to a genuine saint, perhaps deriving from halig kelda meaning holy well. Nonetheless, there is a legend about Alkelda.

The story is that she used to pray at the Giggleswick well, formally known as the Ebbing and Flowing Well, and she was either baptised in its waters, or there baptised others. Another tale is that she was a mythical nymph who was turned into a spring.

Yet another story is that Alkelda was a Saxon princess who was strangled by the invading Danes but this word does appear in the names of some Dales farms and locations.

Stories of this kind tend not to appear in formal written records and although nothing is known about Alkelda, her name does appear in the will of James Carr, who died in 1528. He expressed a wish to be buried (sic) in the church of Gigleswicke of the Holie and Blessed Virgin Saint Alkelda. And a few years ago, I received a lovely letter from a little girl called Alkelda. I wonder if she was named in honour of this saint?

Mystery solved

If the name of Alkelda has Old Norse origins, the same may be said of Rogan’s Seat whose name I queried in this column on May 29. I pondered the origins of this high and somewhat isolated mountain which overlooks Swaledale north of Muker on the Reeth-Kirkby Stephen road.

Both elements of the name appeared to be mysterious but I have received a helpful letter from a reader living in Guisborough who recently read a book which explained the name. He tells me that seat derives from the Norse seter which means a summer pasture, this referring to grasslands which become inaccessible in winter due to heavy snow.

Rogan, which might appear to be the name of a person, also comes from the Norwegian tongue, the nearest such word being rogn. This refers to the rowan tree sometimes known as the roan.

There is another Norse word runa which refers to a charm, and for that reason this lovely tree was planted outside houses to ward off witches and evil spirits. Rogn, rune and roan all sound rather similar.

We know the tree as the mountain ash which, in spite of its rather pretty and delicate appearance, thrives on high ground. It will grow on exposed land which is higher than that which will encourage the growth of other trees, and it is that ability that has given this tree its popular name. There are times it will be seen flourishing in a crack in rocks or clinging to a cliff face which would defeat the growth of other trees.

Even in fairly recent times, it was planted near houses, stables and barns to ward off witches and other evils, all disguised as bad luck. The wood was used to make tool handles or for the carving of small objects while its berries could be made into a delicious jelly, ideal with game dishes. And sometimes wells were dressed with rowan sprigs to keep witches and evil away.

I wonder if St Alkelda knew that?