The parish of Wolverley has likewise its legend, derived from the period of the holy wars. Wolverley Court belonged to one of the Attwoods, who went out as a Crusader, was taken by the Saracens, and kept so long in a dungeon, that his lady at home, supposing him to be dead, was about to marry again, when the knight, having made a vow to the Virgin to present a large portion of his lands to the church at Worcester, was supernaturally liberated from his cell, whisked through the air, and deposited near home, when of course he lost no time in forbidding the banns. The prisoner's fetters are still preserved at the Court, as also the sculptured figure of the warrior, which formerly lay in the old church. The name of Kidderminster is said to have been derived from the mythological period of Britain's history when King Cador resided at that town; his Majesty having been the founder of a minster there--hence Cador-minster; or, still more whimsical, comes the following versified legend: "King Cador saw a pretty maid: King Cador would have kissed her: The damsel slipt aside and said-- 'King Cador, you have miss'd her.'" (And echo answered--"Cador-mister.") As to the etymology of the parish of Oddingley, Dr. Nash informs us that Odd and Dingley, two Saxon giants, were said to have fought upon the common at that place, till the former, beginning to feel anxious for his own personal comfort, roared out-- "O Dingley, Dingley, spare my breath: It shall be called Oddingley heath." Oddo and Doddo were two powerful dukes of the Mercian kingdom, whose history is connected with that of several towns in this district, and they were buried in Pershore church. Oddingley, however, most probably means "the field of Oding." In Areley Kings churchyard is a curious monument formed of sandstone blocks, like a portion of a wall, being part of the ancient fence; it bears this inscription in old capitals: "Lithologema quare? Reponitvr Sir Harry." Sir Harry Coningsby, who is thus commemorated, lived in a moated grange in Herefordshire, and was early left a widower, with one child, a daughter, on whom all his happiness was centred. He was standing one day at an open window with the child in his arms, when, in some playful action, she threw herself out of her father's arms, and fell into the moat beneath, where life soon became extinct. The wretched parent could no longer bear to reside at that fatal spot, and removed into Worcestershire, to a house called "The Sturt," in Areley Kings, where he led a solitary life, went usually by the name of "Sir Harry," and when he died was buried in a corner of the churchyard, the epitaph being carved on that part of the churchyard wall which formed Sir Harry's "pane.[8]" A walnut tree was planted close to the grave, and the boys of the parish were to have the walnuts, and crack them on "Sir Harry's" gravestone; but the tree was cut down by the late rector.