We next pass on to some tales, which, though not connected with the Wall, belong, as Hodgson remarks, to times nearer the Roman than these degenerate days. They chiefly relate to king Arthur. Sir William Betham observes that this monarch’s name is more celebrated in Scotland than in Wales, which was the chief resort of the conquered Britons, and is disposed to think, that this favourite hero of romance was not a Romanized Briton, but an invading Pictish king. This idea would account for the frequent reference to his name in the region of the Wall.
Immemorial tradition has asserted, that king Arthur, his queen Guenever, his court of lords and ladies, and his hounds, were enchanted in some cave of the crags, or in a hall below the castle of Sewingshields, and were to continue entranced there till some one should first blow a bugle horn that lay on a table near the entrance of the hall, and then with ‘the sword of the stone’ cut a garter also placed there beside it. But none had ever heard where the entrance to this enchanted hall was, till the farmer at Sewingshields, about fifty years since, was sitting upon the ruins of the castle, and his clew fell, and ran downwards through a rush of briars and nettles, as he supposed, into a deep subterranean passage. Firm in the faith that the entrance into king Arthur’s hall was now discovered, he cleared the briary portal of its weeds and rubbish, and entering a vaulted passage, followed, in his darkling way, the thread of his clew. The floor was infested with toads and lizards; and the dark wings of bats, disturbed by his unhallowed intrusion, flitted fearfully around him. At length, his sinking courage was strengthened by a dim, distant light, which, as he advanced, grew gradually brighter, till, all at once, he entered a vast and vaulted hall, in the centre of which, a fire without fuel, from a broad crevice in the floor, blazed with a high and lambent flame, that shewed all the carved walls and fretted roof, and the monarch and his queen, reposing around in a theatre of thrones and costly couches. On the floor, beyond the fire, lay the faithful and deep-toned pack of thirty couple of hounds; and on a table before it, the spell-dissolving horn, sword, and garter. The shepherd reverently, but firmly, grasped the sword, and as he drew it leisurely from its rusty scabbard, the eyes of the monarch, and of his courtiers began to open, and they rose till they sat upright. He cut the garter; and as the sword was being slowly sheathed, the spell assumed its ancient power, and they all gradually sunk to rest; but not before the monarch had lifted up his eyes and hands, and exclaimed:
O woe betide that evil day
On which this witless wight was born,
Who drew the sword—the garter cut,
But never blew the bugle-horn.
Terror brought on loss of memory, and the shepherd was unable to give any correct account of his adventure, or to find again the entrance to the enchanted hall.[[98]]
To the north of Sewingshields, two strata of sandstone crop out to the day; the highest points of each ledge are called the King and Queen’s-crag, from the following legend. King Arthur, seated on the farthest rock, was talking with his queen, who, meanwhile, was engaged in arranging her ‘back hair.’ Some expression of the queen’s having offended his majesty, he seized a rock which lay near him, and, with an exertion of strength for which the Picts were proverbial, threw it at her, a distance of about a quarter of a mile! The queen, with great dexterity, caught it upon her comb, and thus warded off the blow; the stone fell between them, where it lies to this day, with the marks of the comb upon it, to attest the truth of the story. It probably weighs about twenty tons!
A few miles to the north of Sewingshields stands an upright stone, which bears the name of Cumming’s cross. Cumming, a northern chieftain, having paid, one day, a visit to king Arthur at his castle near Sewingshields, was kindly received by the king, and was, as a token of lasting friendship, presented by him with a gold cup. The king’s sons coming in, shortly after Cumming had left the castle, and being informed of what their father had done, immediately set out in pursuit of him. They overtook him, and slew him at this place, which has borne the name of Cumming’s cross ever since.
King Arthur’s chair used to be pointed out in this vicinity. It was a column of basalt, fifty feet high, slightly detached from the rest of the cliff. The top of it had something of the appearance of a seat. It was thrown down, several years ago, by a party of idle young men, who were at great pains to effect their foolish purpose.