Historian debunks 'witches' marks' theory, says symbols are stonemasons' training marks

There's absolutely no evidence they were ever used like that.
Alexander dismisses the witches' marks theory after decades of promotion by major heritage organizations.
Mark

Why did these organizations settle on the witches' marks explanation in the first place? What made that story appealing?

Mimi

It's a compelling narrative. Medieval buildings are mysterious, and the idea that people carved protective symbols into walls speaks to something we find fascinating—the persistence of folk belief, the fear of the unknown. It's more interesting than "apprentice practice marks."

Mark

But Alexander's evidence seems straightforward. Varying skill levels, geometric exercises, mason ciphers. How did that get overlooked?

Mimi

Because once a story takes hold—especially one that's been promoted by major heritage organizations—it becomes the lens through which people see the marks. You look at a daisy wheel and you're already thinking "protection." You're not thinking "struggling apprentice."

Mark

Does this change how we should think about medieval people? Were they less superstitious than we thought?

Mimi

Not necessarily. People absolutely believed in witchcraft and the supernatural. But these particular marks aren't evidence of that belief. The marks tell us about construction, training, labor—the practical world. The superstition was real; it just wasn't written on these walls.

Mark

What does it matter, really? If people enjoy the witches' marks story, why does accuracy matter?

Mimi

Because these buildings are public history. When institutions tell people what they're looking at, they're shaping how we understand the past. If we misread the marks, we're missing what they actually reveal about how medieval buildings were made and who made them.

Mark

Will this change how English Heritage presents these sites?

Mimi

That's the open question. Both organizations have said they welcome the research. But changing how you've publicly interpreted hundreds of sites is complicated. It requires acknowledging a mistake.

  • English Heritage and Historic England have for years confidently told the public that carved daisy wheels and hexafoils on historic buildings were ritual protection marks against evil — a claim now directly contested by a leading academic.
  • Professor Jennifer Alexander of Warwick University says there is 'absolutely no evidence' for the witches' marks interpretation, arguing the symbols are simply compass-drawn geometry exercises used to train medieval stonemason apprentices.
  • The varying quality of the marks — some precise, some clumsy and incomplete — supports Alexander's reading: these are the uneven efforts of learners struggling with stone, not the deliberate inscriptions of people seeking supernatural protection.
  • Her new book, Stonemasons' Marks, and her presentation at the International Medieval Congress in Leeds are bringing the debate into the open, pressuring major heritage institutions to reconsider how they frame these symbols to millions of visitors.
  • Both English Heritage and Historic England have responded cautiously and diplomatically, welcoming the new research without defending their previous interpretation — leaving the witches' marks narrative in quiet retreat.

Across England's medieval churches and barns, symbols long presented to the public as witches' marks — carved to ward off demons and invoke divine protection — are being reinterpreted by architectural historian Jennifer Alexander as something far more earthly: the geometric practice exercises of stonemasons and their apprentices. Her challenge, backed by a new scholarly work and presented at the International Medieval Congress in Leeds, invites us to consider how readily we project mystery onto the traces of ordinary human labor. What we may have been calling evidence of supernatural fear turns out, perhaps, to be evidence of craft, patience, and the humble act of learning.

For years, visitors to medieval churches and barns across England have been told they were gazing at witches' marks — symbols carved to trap demons and shield buildings from supernatural harm. English Heritage and Historic England promoted this interpretation widely, identifying supposed ritual protection marks at hundreds of sites. In 2024, English Heritage even announced that Gainsborough Old Hall in Lincolnshire contained the largest collection of such marks ever found at any of its 400 properties.

Now Jennifer Alexander, a professor of architectural history at Warwick University, has challenged the entire framework. Her argument is straightforward: the symbols in question — daisy wheels, hexafoils, mason ciphers — are the working marks of stonemasons and the practice exercises of their apprentices. "Do you remember at school when you were first given a pair of compasses and you made a daisy wheel?" she said. "It's that." The marks, she explains, are geometry lessons etched in stone — apprentices learning to draw circles and patterns with compasses on an unforgiving surface where even the angle of your wrist matters.

The evidence is visible in the marks themselves. At a 14th-century barn in Bradford-on-Avon, Wiltshire, the walls are covered in designs of wildly varying skill — some confident, others incomplete and clumsy. Alexander suggests the building may have functioned as a mason's training space when not in use for storing produce. Other marks, she notes, are simply practical ciphers — letters helping workers assemble stones in the correct order during construction.

Historic England has long acknowledged competing theories, but has presented the ritual protection interpretation as the most widely accepted. In 2016, it launched a public campaign inviting people to hunt for witches' marks, framing them as windows into historical beliefs about witchcraft. Alexander is direct about what she sees as a fundamental misreading. "Anything on a stone building that looks like a design gets picked up as these damn things now," she said.

Her new book, Stonemasons' Marks, published by Routledge, lays out the case in full, arriving alongside her presentation at the International Medieval Congress in Leeds. Both English Heritage and Historic England have responded diplomatically, welcoming fresh perspectives without defending the witches' marks interpretation. What was once framed as evidence of medieval superstition may turn out to be something quieter and more human: the fingerprints of apprentices, learning their trade one careful line at a time.

For years, visitors to medieval churches and grand barns across England have been told they were looking at witches' marks—carved symbols meant to ward off evil spirits and protect buildings from supernatural harm. English Heritage and Historic England have promoted this interpretation widely, identifying what they describe as ritual protection marks on hundreds of sites. But a leading architectural historian has now challenged this entire framework, arguing there is no historical basis for it whatsoever.

Jennifer Alexander, a professor of architectural history at Warwick University, says the symbols in question—particularly daisy wheels and hexafoils—are nothing more than the practical working marks of stonemasons and the training exercises of their apprentices. In 2024, English Heritage announced that Gainsborough Old Hall in Lincolnshire contained what it called "a staggering array" of these supposed ritual marks, the most ever identified at any of its 400 sites. The organization described circles, overlapping Vs, Marian marks invoking the Virgin Mary, and pentangles, all supposedly designed to trap demons or call for divine protection. But Alexander's interpretation is starkly different: these are the geometric doodles of people learning their craft.

"Do you remember at school when you were first given a pair of compasses and you made a daisy wheel?" Alexander asked in an interview. "It's that." She describes the marks as practical geometry lessons—apprentices practicing the fundamental skill of drawing circles and geometric patterns on stone using compasses and straight edges. The varying degrees of skill visible in the marks themselves support this reading. A poorly executed circle or an incomplete hexafoil isn't evidence of mystical intent; it's evidence of a learner struggling with the difficulty of drawing clean lines on an unforgiving surface like stone, where the angle of your wrist changes as you move around the circumference.

The barn at Bradford-on-Avon in Wiltshire, a 14th-century structure, illustrates Alexander's point. The walls there contain a huge number of designs of wildly varying skill levels. Alexander suggests the building may have served as a schoolroom or mason's training shop when it wasn't needed for storing farm produce. Some marks, she notes, are mason ciphers—letters like W or M that helped workers assemble stones in the correct order during construction or that identified whose work had been done. These are the marks of a practical trade, not a supernatural belief system.

Historic England has long acknowledged competing theories about these symbols. Its website notes that some scholars see hexafoils as sun motifs connected to Wicca, a contemporary pagan movement, while others suggest they are purely secular geometric exercises. But the organization has presented the "ritual protection mark" interpretation as "the most widely accepted theory at present." In 2016, Historic England even launched a public campaign asking people to hunt for witches' marks, framing them as evidence of historical belief in witchcraft and the supernatural.

Alexander is blunt about what she sees as a misreading of the evidence. "Anything on a stone building that looks like a design gets picked up as these damn things now," she said. "There's absolutely no evidence they were ever used" as protection symbols. Her new book, Stonemasons' Marks, published by Routledge, explores how these marks were actually used and what they reveal about medieval construction and the people who performed it. The work arrives as she presents her research at this week's International Medieval Congress in Leeds.

Both English Heritage and Historic England have responded diplomatically to Alexander's challenge. English Heritage said it welcomes debates that encourage fresh perspectives on the past. Historic England stated it welcomes new research that adds to understanding of these marks and enriches the picture of the people who made and used historic buildings. Neither organization has defended the witches' marks interpretation or suggested it will change how it presents these symbols to the public. What was once confidently identified as evidence of medieval superstition may turn out to be something far more mundane: the fingerprints of apprentices learning to use their tools.

Do you remember at school when you were first given a pair of compasses and you made a daisy wheel? It's that.
— Jennifer Alexander, Warwick University
There's absolutely no evidence they were ever used like that.
— Jennifer Alexander, on the witches' marks interpretation
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