The Westbury Faery

The Westbury Faerie

In the days when clans fought for the control of hilltops and the chieftains called upon spirits to aid their battles. The Iron Age fort of Bratton was besieged by another clan.

The kin of the fort looked to the Chieftain to lead them through the fight.

But the lord of Bratton was without a plan, so he turned to a tale he heard as a kid.

He recalled as best he could the rhyme taught to him, though many a moon had passed since he had tried to commit the poem to memory.

But the Chief went out of the fort to the west, saying unto the wind.

Rhiannon of The Cruel Fey

I call thee to ride upon thy great steed

Help us on this grave day

Fight our foes and make them bleed

He waited through the night and when the sun broke the eastern horizon, he stood there still.

But no sign came of a wild girl, atop a white steed.

The invaders though seeing the chieftain stood outside the fort's gates they charged and ran him down.

He ran for safety inside the wooden structure and the battle did ensue.

Men fought men all day long.

As the sun fell, many lay dead from spear, arrow and sword.

Across the skyline from the west came a surge of white.

At first the fighters thought it was just a mist rolling in.

But closer it came and quickly it enveloped the scene, then they saw and felt the truth.

A herd of giant white horses charged over the blood soaked ground and took away the invaders.

When the mist cleared back down the hill, the cries fell silent, the chief and clan looked out of their hilltop home and saw not a soul left.

Then came a girl sat upon a huge white stallion, she was beautiful and so unusual.

She wore little if anything, modesty saved only by flowing flaming red hair and upon her back beat wings of light and flare.

She called out.

Lord of Bratton hear me say

I am Rhiannon, Rider of The Cruel Fey

I helped thee

Remember always this day,

I mark the home with pride.

Then they turned, rolled away down the hill falling into mist and were gone.

The chief and his clan reigned over Bratton, Uffington and Westbury beyond for many year, safe because of the tale they told, the story grew and grew, so none would try their luck.

And still today carved upon that hilltop is a large white horse, the first of its kind. As the clan ranged further to hilltops and valleys, each generation carved upon a hillside a white horse to signify their loyalty and debt to Rhiannon of the Westbury Fey.