So runs the story as told by the Chroniclers. And to this day popular tradition not only repeats their tale, but points to the places associated with the event. Below our feet lies the lonely glen of Canterton, where the King is said to have fallen.
The oak from which, as the legend runs, the arrow glanced, is long since dead, but a stone marks its site, now capped over with
vivid, and adds that the dogs were chasing the stags up a hill; but his whole book is very doubtful, and his account in this particular instance is irreconcilable with the others. They all, however, with the exception of the Chronicle and William of Newburgh (Ed. Hamilton, vol. i. book i., ch. ii., p. 17), who are silent, agree in saying that Tiril committed the deed by accident. Of later writers, Leland, in his Itinerary (vol. vi. f. 100, p. 88) states that the King fell at Thorougham, where in his time there was still a chapel standing, evidently meaning Fritham, called Truham in Domesday. Gilpin (Forest Scenery, vol. i. p, 166) mentions a similar tradition; so that there is a very reasonable doubt as to the spot itself being where the Stone stands, especially since, with the exception of the vague remark of Florence, none of the best Chroniclers say one word about the place. Thierry, in many minor particulars, follows Knyghton, whose authority is of little value, and I have therefore omitted all reference to him.
