High upon the windswept expanse of Dartmoor, beneath Fox Tor’s brooding heights, stands an ancient memorial known as Childe’s Tomb. This granite cross marks the spot where, according to legend, a terrible tragedy befell a wealthy landowner during the depths of a medieval winter.
The tale begins with Childe of Plymstock, a nobleman who owned vast estates along the southern edges of Dartmoor. One bitterly cold winter’s day, despite threatening skies, Childe set out on horseback to hunt across the moor. As he pursued his quarry deeper into this wild landscape, snow began to fall, softly at first, then with increasing fury. The swirling white flakes soon obscured all landmarks. As darkness approached and temperatures plummeted, Childe found himself hopelessly lost in what had become a raging blizzard. His horse, exhausted from struggling through deepening snowdrifts, could go no further.
Realising his desperate situation, Childe was forced to make a grim decision. With fingers numbed by cold, he drew his hunting knife and killed his faithful steed. In a final bid for survival, he disembowelled the horse and crawled inside its warm carcass, hoping to shelter there until the storm passed. Before taking this drastic action, Childe is said to have scratched out his last will upon a nearby granite boulder, using the blood of his horse to write these words:
“He who finds and brings me to my grave, My lands at Plymstock he shall have.”
But even this desperate measure proved futile against the merciless cold of Dartmoor. When morning came, both horse and rider were frozen solid.
News of Childe’s death eventually reached both the monks of Tavistock Abbey and the townspeople of Plymstock. Understanding that whoever recovered his body would gain his wealthy estate, both groups set out across the moor. The monks, however, proved craftier. Learning that their rivals were ahead of them, they hurriedly constructed a bridge across the River Tavy—later known as Guile Bridge—and took a shorter route to the abbey..
Through this cunning strategy, the monks of Tavistock secured both Childe’s body and his lands, which remained in their possession until the dissolution of the monasteries. Today, a granite cross still marks the spot where Childe met his fate, standing as a stark reminder of Dartmoor’s dangerous beauty and the respect it demands from all who venture onto its wild expanses.
The cross that stands today is not the original monument—that was destroyed long ago—but it serves to keep alive one of Dartmoor’s most enduring legends, a tale that continues to echo across these ancient hills, warning visitors of the moor’s unpredictable and sometimes deadly nature.
Historical Context
The location of this grim tale, Fox Tor Mire, remains one of Dartmoor’s most treacherous areas. Though partially drained in modern times, it continues to pose risks to unwary visitors. Historical records show that the original monument at the site consisted of a cross surrounded by four posts, bearing inscriptions that detailed Childe’s fate.
Medieval documents refer to the site both as “Childe’s Tomb” and “The Tree,” suggesting the memorial may have incorporated both stone and wooden elements. Supporting the legend’s authenticity, historical records confirm that the manor of Plymstock was indeed held by Tavistock Abbey from the Norman Conquest until Henry VIII’s Dissolution of the Monasteries.
The present cross, while not the original monument, belongs to a network of ancient waymarkers that once guided travellers—particularly monks—across Dartmoor’s challenging terrain. These crosses served as crucial navigation points in an age before detailed maps and modern navigation tools.
Literary Legacy
Fox Tor Mire gained additional fame when Sir Arthur Conan Doyle drew inspiration from it for the deadly Grimpen Mire in “The Hound of the Baskervilles.” This literary connection has further cemented the location’s place in both folklore and literature. Today, Childe’s Tomb stands as a stark reminder of Dartmoor’s dangerous beauty and the respect it demands from all who venture onto its wild expanses. Local shepherds and moorland farmers still speak of the tomb with reverence, especially during the harsh winter months when Dartmoor’s weather can be at its most treacherous. The ancient tale serves as a perpetual reminder that even in our modern age, the moor commands respect from those who walk upon its timeless hills.
Worth noting: Some variations of the legend suggest Childe was initially hunting with companions before becoming separated in the snowstorm, adding another layer of tragedy to the tale—help may have been searching for him even as he made his final, desperate attempt at survival.
