The Ghosts Of Ludlow
Shrieks, running feet, translucent monks, caped cavaliers and grey ladies. Oh, and a ghostly dog and swarm of mourning bees. And that’s before we get to the skipping queen or the girl in the mini-skirt. Even for an ancient town, Ludlow features an impressive range of ‘things that go bump in the night.’
A Beer, A Bite and A Fright: Ludlow’s Most Haunted Pubs and Inns
When you arrive at The Blue Boar at 52 Mill street, for instance, you may be welcomed by the inn’s most famous ghost, a young man wearing a blue tunic with silver buttons. Since he was a previous resident of the castle, he often keeps company with a cavalier, one of soldiers who found for the King against Oliver Cromwell. Ludlow, a Royalist stronghold, held out until the bitter end, only finally in July, 1646. As The Blue Boar was built in 1650, it may be a testament to the food or the beer or both that these two frequent it anyway.
The Victorian couple who haunt the upper rooms are also regulars. The gentleman smokes a pipe, and while the smell may annoy some patrons, it’s nowhere near as troublesome as the poltergeist in the bar, who frequently rearranges the glasses and occasionally drops them. The front door, which is designed to open outwards, occasionally swings inwards, admitting an unseen visitor. Anyone interested in ghostly activity should keep an eye on the wall clock by the same front door. When things are about to get spooky, the hands speed up.
Around the corner at The Globe Inn on Market Street, a long haired soldier wearing a cloak wanders the corridors. Crossing Friar’s Lane, you may have to wait for a procession of white monks. While on the corner of Bell Lane, you could be forgiven for hearing buzzing. After the death of Margaret Bell, a famous bee-keeper, hives swarm there, mourning her memory.
Tradition says that The Bull Hotel, at number 14 The Bull Ring, was originally built to house the men who built the beautiful church of St Laurence next door. The gray lady who flits between the two, appearing on the steps that lead to the churchyard before melting away if anyone gets too close, may be looking for one of them. The little girl who appears in the inn’s courtyard, where she was killed by a bull, doesn’t seem to be looking for anyone. Her name is Gertrude, but she has told residents she prefers to be called Gertie.
If your nerves are jangled by any of these, they may get worse – or you may be convinced the beer was stronger than you thought by the time you reach the front of The Feathers, which is also also on the Bull Ring, and meet the young woman with long black hair wearing a mini skirt who has the disconcerting habit of walking through parked cars. Inside, a Victorian gentleman walks his dog along the corridor between rooms 232 and 233. Thinking them charming, if eccentrically dressed, guests who speak to them have been startled when hound and master vanish into the wall.
Man and dog do, at least, do this quietly, unlike the children who frequently run, clapping, tapping on doors and giggling in the hallways late at night. The jealous female ghost who inhabited room 211 was, on the other hand, fond of pulling hair. One guest was yanked so viciously in the middle of the night that she was almost dragged out of bed. Another woke soaking wet, as if a jug of water had been thrown over her, although the bed clothes were dry.
Men being men, her partner slept through the whole thing. And added insult to injury when he reported next morning that he dreamed, or thought he dreamed, of someone was gently stroking his face. What effect the sale and refurbishment of the hotel will have on any of its spectral guests is hard to say. Perhaps it will depend on whether they approve of the new décor.
Closer to The Castle, More Heart-Breaks and Hauntings
The Feathers is not the only spooked residence that has recently changed hands in Ludlow.
After his marriage to Catherine of Aragon in 1501, Arthur – son and heir of the first Tudor King, Henry VII – and his young bride made the castle their home. The marriage was apparently happy, but only lasted for six months before Arthur died, on April 2, 1502, of the sweating sickness. Reluctant to refund her dowry, most of which he’d probably already spent, Henry VII refused to let the young widow return to Spain. Instead, he moved her into Ludlow’s Castle Lodge. Which she must have liked a great deal, because she never left.
Wearing ornate Tudor head dress, Catherine often peers out of the upper windows. Successive owners report that she has also been seen, and heard, skipping and singing along the corridors, especially the upstairs ones, before she vanishes into walls. Footsteps are frequently heard in empty rooms. There is a cold spot at the top of the stairs. And visitors to rooms on the upper floors often have the distinct feeling that They Are Not Alone.
It is no wonder that Catherine has chosen to stay at Castle Lodge, because the house is unique, and spectacular. A genuine Tudor time capsule, it still has original oak paneling and stained glass. The previous owners made it their lives’ work, and allowed anyone who knocked on the door to visit for a small fee. The new owners, who are doing much needed restoration and maintenance, have promised that, when they are finished, they too will make sure there is public access. In the meantime, look for the face of the young girl in the upper window, gazing back towards the castle, perhaps remembering that she was happy there with her first husband, before she was married off to his younger brother – Henry VIII.
It is only fitting that the oldest, and most spectacular of Ludlow’s hauntings should belong to the castle. Almost three centuries before The Wars of Roses sent Richard III’s family escaping into the night, another civil war wracked the country. This one, fought between the grandchildren of William the Conqueror, lasted from 1135 to 1154, and was known as The Nineteen Year Winter, or simply, The Anarchy.
Given its strategic position, it is not surprising that – as it would be in the civil wars that followed – Ludlow was both a power-base, and contested. As the 12th century got underway, the de Lacy’s, who built the castle, lost control of it. Gilbert de Lacy, the family heir, placed his bets early and vigorously, declaring his allegiance to The Conqueror’s grand-daughter, Matilda, who landed in England to gather an army in 1139. In the meantime, ‘the other side’, her cousin Stephen, who had had himself crowned a few years earlier, had managed to seize Ludlow. Desperate to secure the Welsh border, King Stephen gave it – and a de Lacy widow called Sybil – to one of his Loyalists, a Breton adventurer called Joce de Dinan.
According to the 13th century epic poem which relays the story, sometime after that, possibly in late 1139 or early 1140, Gilbert de Lacy, who was not about to give up what he saw as rightly his, laid siege to Ludlow. One afternoon, on the same bridge that Richard watched his father and brothers march over, and then escape across – and that is still there today – there was a skirmish. The bridge seems a bit unlucky, because things went badly for Gilbert de Lacy. Both he and his captain at arms, one Arnold de Lys, were captured and marched off to the castle by de Dinan.
Meanwhile, in Sybil de Lacy’s household there was a young woman called Marion de Bruyere. As Gilbert de Lacy and his captain were noblemen, they were not put in Ludlow’s dungeon – a mistake Joce de Dinan would come to regret. Instead, they were kept in the Pendover Tower, in the northeast corner of the keep, in a suite of rooms with doors that had stout locks, and inset iron grilles. Which allowed de Lys, who was apparently both handsome and charming, to make conversation every day with Marion as she passed up and down the stairs on her mistress’s business.
Before long, she had fallen in love with him. And not long after that, she helped both de Lys and de Lacy escape. According to the story, she collected old bed linen, tore it into strips, and sewed those into a rope which she somehow got to de Lys,who – after promising he would return and marry her – promptly threw it out of their window and, along with Gilbert de Lacy, shinnied down to freedom. Apparently Marion’s role in the escape was not suspected. Or perhaps it was. Because when, a few months later, she announced that she was too ill to accompany her master and mistress on a tour of de Dinan’s various other properties, Joce took the precaution of leaving a garrison of armed men in the castle with her. Not that it did much good.
Marion either wasted no time in contacting her lover, or de Lys, knowing Dinan had gone, wasted no time contacting her. Either way, within days, Gilbert de Lacy knew everything he needed to know about the soldiers de Dinan left behind, and de Lys had made plans to visit Marion. A forward thinker, he instructed her to get a hold of a nice, sturdy rope ladder. On the first moonless night, she lowered it from her window and de Lys climbed up. While the lovers were happily reunited, Gilbert de Lacy also climbed up. Along with a hundred of his men, who promptly slaughtered the entire garrison.
According to the story, when Marion realized what was happening, she turned on de Lys. Certain that she had been used, and probably terrified of what would become of her, she killed him with his own sword. Then, either in remorse, terror, despair, or a horrible cocktail of all three, she ran to the top of the Pendover Tower and threw herself onto the rocks below. Where she can still be seen. And heard.
On moonless nights, the shade of Marion de Bruyere paces frantically along the base of Ludlow castle. On other nights when she is not seen, she can be heard, weeping, and sometimes howling as if in pain. Whether Arnold de Lys genuinely loved her – and intended, once Ludlow was re-taken, to repay her for her loyalty by marrying her – or if he simply saw an opportunity, and used a naive girl when he had the chance, we will never know. And having killed him, neither would Marion. Had she avenged herself, or slaughtered the love of her life? Betrayed, or been betrayed? Almost a thousand years later, unable to know for sure, she still paces, and cries, her heart broken, searching for the answer in the stones of Ludlow.