The Crowsa Stones

St Just had a great friend called St Keverne who lived a day’s ride away. He baked the best heavy cake and he was a good listener. His favourite things were eating and talking with his best friend. St Just also liked to share all his thoughts and concerns. The host poured wine into a golden cup and handed it to his friend. 

‘We will toast our friendship,’ bellowed St Keverne. ‘May it last as long as we live.’ 

St Just drank deeply from the golden cup, it fitted his clasp exactly and somehow the wine tasted better from it. ‘I wish I’d a cup like this,’ he mused. The two friends ate lots of cake and drank plenty of wine and talked late into the night.

 In the morning, they were very tired. St Keverne bumbled about trying to clean up after the feasting, he was grumpy. ‘Out of my way, St Just!’ he growled, piling up the dishes. 

St Just sighed, St Keverne was being a bit unreasonable and he made St Just feel like he was in the way. Such a change from the hospitality and friendliness he had enjoyed the previous evening. 

'I think I will return home,’ he said quietly. 

When St Keverne didn’t pay any attention, St Just packed his things and rode off home on his horse. St Keverne was chatting on to St Just, thinking he was still there. 

‘Help me clean up the goblets, St Just,’ he grumbled and when St Just didn’t reply, he turned around to find his friend had gone. Not only was he no longer about but there was something obviously missing from the pile of goblets on the table.

 ‘My gold cup!’ shouted St Keverne. 

And with that he ran out to the yard and saddled his horse. He knew his friend wouldn’t have got far due to the lumpy fields ahead. ‘I’ll get back my cup!’ he bellowed after St Just. 

His horse leapt over a hedge to find his friend riding across a huge field. What St Keverne hadn’t bargained for was the speed of St Just’s horse, he couldn’t keep up with him.

 ‘Give me back my cup,’ he shouted at the departing horse. 

In his frustration he slid off his own horse and began to throw huge granite boulders after his friend. He was a strong man and the third boulder clipped St Just’s horse on the leg. St Just’s horse limped along the field. But St Keverne was not done. He threw two more stones carefully next to the others and not near St Just. 

‘You can have your cup,’ said St Just. ‘We are friends no more.’ 

St Keverne picked his cup up from amongst the boulders and held it to his chest as he sadly watched St Just ride away.