Barn Meadow View

**FOLKLORE FRIDAY**

There are many a tale or two about the devil's visits to our county. It seems the good folk of Herefordshire are worthy of his attention, there are many a good soul that he would like to capture. Our tale this week takes us to Longtown, to the biggest farm in the area. It was a busy time for the farm owner, there were many tasks to get done, the seasons were changing, his crop needed harvesting but one of his best labourers had fallen ill. As he was wondering what he was going to do, out of nowhere appeared a dishevelled man called John asking if there was any work available. He was not a local, in fact no-one had seen him before, but he implored the farmer to give him work. Seeing this as an opportunity to fix his problems the farmer agreed but firmly told his new farm hand, "I'll have you know that I won't tolerate any shirking!"

To the farmer's surprise and relief John turned out to be a really hard worker. He could thresh a sheaf of corn with one stroke of his flail, build a stack faster than any other man and carry a load that would normally take six men to move. He never seemed to tire either. John intrigued the farmer so he decided to work alongside him one day to get to know him better. It was a busy hot day and the farmer was engaged in throwing the sheaves from the stack while John threshed them. The farmer was impressed at the speed with which John was threshing the sheaves, but even more amazing was the fact that John seemed unaffected by the summer's heat. Trying to figure out why the farmer could only deduce that he had given John the easier of the jobs and decided to swap tasks with him. But too his shock and before he knew it John had buried him beneath the sheaves. The farmer just could not keep pace with him.

At home that evening the farmer pondered the day. How could it be that he a very fit man could not keep up with John, something wasn't right. The next day the farmer visited a wise man in the village, he needed some advice. The farmer recounted his experiences and his concerns asking the wise man for his opinion. The wise man with a knowing look in his eyes shook his head and said, "I'm sure I know who your labourer is, it can be none other than the devil."

The farmer was shocked, he hadn't anticipated that response. He immediately asked the wise man how he could rid himself of this stranger who indeed might be the devil himself. The wise man responded, "What you need to do is give him a task that he cannot do, it doesn't matter what it is. The Devil is proud and won't be beaten by any task. he will soon pack his bags and go."

Over the next few weeks the farmer kept coming up with unusual and difficult tasks for John to do but each time he did so John completed them with ease and perfection. The farmer had asked John to count the number of grains of corn threshed from a whole stack, fill a barrel with water using a sieve and mow a field which he had spiked with iron railings. It would seem that no task was too difficult. In desperation to rid himself of John the farmer told his story to a passing gypsy woman. After much thought she responded, "Take one of your wife's curly hairs from her head and tell him to hammer it straight on the blacksmith's anvil."

The farmer did as the gypsy had said and set John about the task. Hours and hours of furious hammering passed and then came a deafening silence. Not sure what he was going to find the farmer made his way into the blacksmith's shed to find it empty with the curly hair still on the anvil. He ran outside to see where John had gone and there in the distance he could be seen leaving the village. A relief swept over the farmer, it had worked. The farmer's soul was saved but it didn't stop him wondering who the next poor victim might be.

There are more great tales and stories over on our dedicated Herefordshire History and Folklore page, why not take a look:

www.eatsleepliveherefordshire.co.uk/information/history-and-folklore



These stories are curated from many sources where accuracy cannot be guaranteed and retold in our fun ESL style, in the true spirit of Folklore magic.

**FOLKLORE FRIDAY**

It's true that we are a nation of animal lovers. Some people prefer dogs, a usually predictable companion, others love cats. Now cats are aloof and independent, they often don't need the same level of fuss or affection that a dog does. They disappear to places unknown to us and we don't always know what they're thinking. This week's tale perhaps gives us an insight into their mysterious world.

Our story takes us near to the Whitney on Wye area of Herefordshire, where during the year gentlemen from London would come and visit for a couple of weeks to enjoy some salmon fishing. The locals welcomed them with open arms, for a cottager it was a wonderful form of extra income. There were two gentlemen from London who were regular visitors to the area and who would always stay with a widow in her cottage. The cottage was in a pretty, remote spot and not far from the River Wye where they loved to fish. The widow not only enjoyed their money but also their company as she lived alone except for her big old cat, who was getting on in years. From his appearance it was clear he had seen a lot of life. He had lost an eye and his ears were full of scars from his many battles with other cats and wild animals nearby.

The two gentlemen were enjoying their stay as they always did, the fishing was great and the scenery magnificent. However midweek the older man complained of a chill and decided to stay by the fire reading his book, with the old cat dozing on his lap whilst his younger friend went off to fish by himself. As the light began to fade the older man became concerned for his friend, it was not like him to be out this late. As he paced the floor wondering what he should do his friend burst through the door of the cottage looking tired and confused. As they ate supper together the younger man was unusually quiet. It was only when the widow had gone to bed and the two men retired with a whiskey in front of the fire, that he finally began to speak about why he was so late returning. The cat looking for a comfortable spot jumped back on the older man's lap seemingly wanting to hear all about it too.

The younger man reported having been at their favourite fishing spot when a thick fog descended upon him. In attempt to find his way back to the cottage he got lost in the woods. Spotting a light way in the distance thinking that it must be the cottage he headed in that direction, only for the fog to get thicker and for the light to disappear. In a bit of a panic he decided to climb a mighty oak tree to see if he could locate the light again, which he did. But then something caught his eye as he gazed down into the hollow of the tree. To his amazement there appeared to be a funeral taking place, a coffin surrounded by torches and he could hear singing in the wind. As he looked closer his heart leapt and he couldn't quite believe what he was witnessing. The coffin which was adorned with a crown and sceptre and the torches were all being carried by cats. Both men were silent at this point, gazing into the fire, it was quite a tall tale to take in. As the younger man had been speaking the old cat had been gazing at him intently, no longer dozing on the older man's lap. As soon as the man had finished telling his story the cat leapt onto the floor and shouted "Old Peter is dead. I am King of the Cats!" And with that he bolted up the chimney leaving the two men sitting in shock and disbelief, the soot filling the air.

The next morning they awoke to the widow calling out for the cat as he had not returned from his nightly adventures as he normally did. Neither man said a word as they fished that day, both seemed deep in thought mulling over the weird events of the last 24 hours. When they returned for supper that evening, the widow was still calling out for the cat. They could see that she missed his companionship deeply. The men still shook up by events decided to return home early but not before they purchased a new young tom cat for the widow. For they knew what she did not. Her old friend would never be returning, for he was now King of the Cats.

There are more great tales and stories over on our dedicated Herefordshire History and Folklore page, why not take a look:

www.eatsleepliveherefordshire.co.uk/information/history-and-folklore

**FOLKLORE FRIDAY**

Our story this week is all about a kindly widow who created something rather special for the poor despite the wishes and actions of her greedy relatives. Hester Clarke lived in Leominster, she was a quiet woman with a kind heart. Her late husband had been a wool merchant and had prospered leaving Hester a small fortune, a large house and lots of loving memories. There were no children to console and care for her but she did have cousins and nephews. They appeared on the surface to be fond of her but some say they were more fond of her fortune. For one day they hoped to inherit all that Hester owned.

Hester was very interested in the plight of the poor of Leominster. When she visited the town it made her sad to see men and women in rags begging in the street in order to feed their families. Whenever she went out she always kept some coins in her purse which she gladly gave to those who needed it. Her family on the other hand regarded the poor with contempt and distain. At Christmas time they were all for turning away callers to the house like the mummers but Hester would always invite them in, give them a generous donation and some food to warm their bellies.

Hester missed her wonderful husband especially a Christmas time. The house felt so empty so she would take a wander into town to busy herself. It was also a chance for her to catch up with her neighbours and the news. On her way back from one of these trips she spotted a commotion just outside her home. A woman had collapsed in the street and a crowd was now gathering around her trying to assist. As Hester looked upon the woman she could see that she was malnourished and cold so she suggested that she was brought into her house to get warm. The poor woman appeared embarrassed and tried to leave but Hester insisted that she remain with her until she was sufficiently warm and fed. Hester was all for sending for the woman's family but to her horror found that she had none and that the woman was living on the streets. Hester wondered how she was going to survive such a cold winter and shuddered at the thought. But before the woman stepped back into the cold of the night Hester placed a golden guinea in her hand. As Hester waved her goodbye she had an idea, one that would change the woman's life forever.

The next morning Hester set off on her mission. Her head full of ideas and her heart filled with excitement. An appointment was made with her solicitor who after lengthy discussions confirmed that Hester was wealthy enough to acquire some land that was for sale at Bargates. Not only that but she could afford to build four almshouses on the site. Her plan was to make the houses available for poor widows in the community. Plus she would set aside enough funds each year for their care. Happy and feeling ready for the challenge she set about realising her plan.

But as in any community people started to talk and before long her plans were divulged by her solicitor to her family. One nephew in particular accused her of going mad and squandering his inheritance such was his anger. When he realised that she would not be swayed from her plan he set about her downfall. He was going to ensure that she was declared of unsound mind and would no longer have control over her property. The property would be deemed his.

Hester's solicitor informed her of her nephew's intentions and if anything it made Hester even more determined to complete what she had started. It was clear from the conversation that Hester's nephew had already claimed her home but the almshouses were out of his reach and legally he could not take ownership of these. So all was not lost. The almshouses were almost ready for occupation but there was one last task that Hester had for the carpenter.

The next day Hester went looking for the woman who had collapsed in the street and after walking some of the poorest areas of the town she found her. Hester told her about the almshouses and invited her to stay in one of them along with two other widows in similar circumstances.

The opening of the almshouses was a big affair and a sizeable crowd gathered outside. The widows were presented with their keys but before they could take occupancy Hester unveiled her finishing touch. Above the main door the carpenter had carved the figure of a man. In his hand he carried an axe and below him were the words, "He that gives away all before he is dead, Let 'em take this hatchett and knock him on the head."

Hester then took the key to the fourth house and entered her new home, safe from her nephew's meddling.

Despite her family's dreadful actions of stealing her wealth and home, Hester had never felt richer. In the almshouses she was surrounded by genuine friendship and love. No longer did she feel alone and there she lived until she died.

The almshouses look the same today as when Hester first moved in and the carved figure remains above the front door for all to see centuries later. We're glad that there was a happy ending for Hester. As the saying goes you can't choose your family but you can choose your friends.

There are more great tales and stories over on our dedicated Herefordshire History and Folklore page, why not take a look:

www.eatsleepliveherefordshire.co.uk/information/history-and-folklore



These stories are curated from many sources where accuracy cannot be guaranteed and retold in our fun ESL style, in the true spirit of Folklore magic.

**FOLKLORE FRIDAY**

Our tale this week takes us near to Wigmore where a young woman called Mary Powell lived. Mary just loved dancing and every chance she got she would excitedly head out and trudge across the fields to the nearby villages to enjoy the one thing that made her heart sing. Mary's mother Sally worried about her constantly. She would sit up at night in front of the fire waiting for Mary to return. Her father on the other hand was more free spirited. Sally dressed in her beautiful blue gown was very popular at the dances. The boys would compete for her attention, whirling her around the dance floor. The night would fly by and before Mary knew it, it would all come to an end. Dancing shoes off, boots back on Mary would set out across the muddy fields excited to tell her Mother all about the wonderful evening that she had just had.

One particular night Mary had been dancing in Kington and on her way home she suddenly heard some of the most beautiful music ever. Curious and still full of the joys of the night Mary decided to take a closer look. As she gazed over the hedge she saw a group of fairies dancing. They looked so glorious with their delicate wings. There was something quite intoxicating about them as they danced and Mary moved in closer but the fairies did not react to her being there at all. As she stood watching, entranced by the sweet music she was hearing, one of the fairies finally turned and looked her straight in the eyes. As if hypnotised by his gaze she took his hand and before she knew it she was dancing alongside them. Time seemed to slip away and so did Mary for that matter.

Mary's mother Sally sat waiting for her daughter to return as she always did, however the wait had been a long one and she had fallen asleep in her chair. Waking with a start, the room now cold she realised that Mary had not returned. A local search of the fields was carried out and everyone at the dance was spoken to but no-one knew where Mary had gone. She had vanished without trace.

The weeks and months passed but Mary's mother kept searching for her. There were sightings but as quick as Mary was seen, she disappeared again. Sally decided to visit a wise man in the area, one Jeremiah Price, surely he would give her some answers. The old man knew what had happened straight away. "She's away with the fairies", he said. Thinking she had lost her daughter forever Sally's heart sank until Jeremiah informed her that all was not lost. He told her to keep looking and that when she did see Mary to seize her and hold onto her but in no circumstances was she to be the first one to utter a word. Sally was advised not to loosen her grip until Mary spoke, otherwise Mary would be lost to her forever.

The old man explained that the sightings of Mary happened when Mary was thinking about her old life, but the longer she spent with the fairies the less sightings there would be and she would disappear forever. Determined that this would not happen Sally set about her search with a reignited passion. There were sightings but never by Sally herself. A year passed and she continued to walk the paths between Wigmore and Kington. Finally her tenacity paid off. As she was searching one day she caught a glimpse of Mary. Wasting no time she ran to her and grabbed her tightly. She uttered no words even though her heart was bursting to say something. Finally the silence was broken as Mary spoke asking her Mother where she had been. Mary thought she had only been away for a day and could not comprehend that it had been more than a year.

Sally and Mary returned to Kington, local folk were pleased to see her but they seemed to be wary of her too. Upon her return Mary went to work for her cousin in her dress shop in Kington and life seemed to return to normal. Except for the items that kept disappearing, lace, pins and pieces of cloth. The finger of suspicion was immediately pointed at Mary. Mary was not the thief but she did know who was. Since working at the shop the fairies would regularly pop in, make faces at her and take things. Unbeknown to them Mary could still see them. While she had been with the fairies, she had watched them putting ointment on their eyes. Wondering what it did, she took some when they weren't looking and had rubbed it into one of he eyes. Immediately the world looked vibrant and full of wonder plus it had given her the ability to see the fairies now too. Mary knew that she had to rid herself of her fairy visitors but she could not let them know that she could see them as they would blind her.

When they appeared again in the shop laughing and causing mischief, she pretended that she was busy but was talking to herself just loud enough for them to hear. She muttered about the fairies taking things and that her mistress had gone to purchase a fairy trap. On hearing this the fairies stopped what they were doing, became distraught and ran from the shop. All except one, the one who had captured her gaze when she first saw the fairies so long ago. He moved around her hoping for a sign to prove that she could see him but Mary did not give anything away. Finally he too left and Mary took a deep breath, relieved to be on her own and happy that her fairy adventures were now behind her.

So if you're out in the fields of Herefordshire and are drawn to some enchanting music playing in the distance, you may want to think twice before you pop your head over the hedge to see what's going on.

There are more great tales and stories over on our dedicated Herefordshire History and Folklore page, why not take a look:

www.eatsleepliveherefordshire.co.uk/information/history-and-folklore



These stories are curated from many sources where accuracy cannot be guaranteed and retold in our fun ESL style, in the true spirit of Folklore magic.

**FOLKLORE FRIDAY**

As you know we love researching our folklore tales but what we have noticed is that one name keeps popping up. That of Jackie Kent or as some others refer to him as Jack O'Kent. Known as the local trickster, he would manage to get himself out of any trouble and always come out on top or so it would seem. He was a man who could barter with and outwit the devil on more occasions than you would have thought possible. His true identity is not known but many point in the direction of Owen Glendower. Others refer to him as the powerful medieval wizard who came from the village of Kentchurch. First stories about him emerge around 1595 but it is thought that he lived a century or so earlier.

When Jack was a boy he was adventurous and curious and happened upon the Devil while out one day exploring. Rumours have it that Jack sold his soul to the Devil and in return he was gifted a demon that would do his bidding until the day he died. At which point the demon would happily carry his soul off to hell. Now don't go thinking that this demon was one of those ghastly things you see in horror movies. No, he was said to be no bigger than a fly and Jack kept him inside a stick which he hid in his coat.

Jack was unsurprisingly an unusual child. Strange in many ways. Ways which could not be ignored and some which could not be explained. When Jack was nine years old the farmer who he worked for asked him to guard some newly sown fields. The farmer was having trouble with the crows pinching his grain and Jack was tasked with keeping them away. But that day Jack had other ideas. It was the day of the Hereford fair and he was desperate to go and have fun with his friends, so left the field unguarded much to the farmer's annoyance. As the day grew into the evening the angry farmer waited for Jack to return from Hereford so that he could confront him over his dereliction of duty and give him a beating. But cool as a cucumber Jack appeared without a care in the world, grinning at the farmer telling him not to fret because all the crows were safely locked up in the barn so his grain would be safe. To the farmer's surprise Jack was right. As he opened the barn door there they all were neatly lined up in rows waiting for sunset when the spell cast by Jack would be broken and they would fly free again.

It was rumoured too that Jack had a spare set of clothes that could do the work of ten men. So when Jack was tasked with threshing or bailing he would order his suit of clothes to do the work while he rested nearby playing his fiddle.

Jack's talents didn't end there. He was said to be able to conjure up the Devil at will. On one occasion Jack got the Devil to plough all of the fields across Kentchurch. As the Devil ploughed Jack followed behind sowing his seeds. With the hard work done he asked the Devil what he would like in payment, the top of the crop or the bottom. Unbeknown to the Devil Jack had sown gravel and not seed. So when the Devil answered the bottom, Jack just grinned. When the Devil left Jack sowed some grain so when it came to harvest time the Devil got the straw and Jack got the grain. Not willing to fall for a trick like that again the following year the same thing happened. But this time the Devil was ready for Jack when he asked the question and picked the top of the crop, but again he was duped. Jack had planted turnips this time, so the Devil was only left with the leaves.

One day Jack asked the Devil to build him a bridge over the River Monnow. The Devil agreed to do it but wanted in return the soul of the first person to cross it when it was built. The Devil worked hard and the bridge was built in a night but before anyone could walk over it Jack threw a loaf of bread onto the bridge and a dog chased after it. So the only soul the Devil took that night was that of a poor unsuspecting hungry pooch.

Jack always seemed to be able to outwit the Devil but could Jack trick the Devil into not taking his soul when he died? Some people say that he did. Before he died Jack left a letter regarding his wishes for his funeral. He detailed how he was to be buried, in a cavity hollowed out of the wall in Kentchurch Church. Stories tell that when the time came for Jack's demon to carry his soul to hell, he found that Jack had been buried neither inside or outside of the church. Unable to take his soul he returned to hell empty handed. A medieval painting of Jack hangs in Kentchurch Church which is said to be mounted on the site of his unusual burial.

We'll never know exactly who Jackie Kent was but his stories have stood the test of time and we've really enjoyed reading about his antics. Keep a look out as there are a few more stories yet to be told about this ardent trickster!

There are more great tales and stories over on our dedicated Herefordshire History and Folklore page, why not take a look:

www.eatsleepliveherefordshire.co.uk/information/history-and-folklore



These stories are curated from many sources where accuracy cannot be guaranteed and retold in our fun ESL style, in the true spirit of Folklore magic.

**FOLKLORE FRIDAY**

There were times when travelling the country lanes in Herefordshire were quite dangerous particularly at night. Whether on horseback or by carriage you had to be constantly on the lookout for highway men or blaggards that were out to rob you of your possessions or indeed kill you for the riches that you carried upon your person. It wasn't wise to travel alone but sometimes there wasn't an option. Once such evening a young man set about for home, he had travelled the route many times alone but the threat of danger was ever present. With his senses heightened, a sense of dread in his stomach and his cloak wrapped tightly around him, he sped off into the night.

Before long he could hear the sound of a galloping horse behind him drawing nearer and nearer. Fearing the worst he braced himself for an attack and surely as he anticipated a masked man was upon him grabbing at his horse's bridle. Without thinking the man drew his sword and lashed out at his attacker. In a split second the reins had been released and the robber yelled out in pain. Not waiting for a second attack, the man checked that his money bags and possessions were still about his person and rode like the wind home.

With his heart racing and his mind replaying every moment over and over, he continually looked over his shoulder to make sure his attacker wasn't hot on his heels. As he saw the lights of home, he sighed with relief. Once dismounted from his horse though he made a grim discovery. Tangled in his reins was a bloody hand. As the bile rose in his stomach at seeing the hand, he hurried to discard it but something stopped him in his tracks. There was a ring on the hand. A ring that he knew very well and had seen many times over the years. Surely this could not be true.

Still repulsed by the sight of the severed hand and in disbelief he removed the ring for closer inspection. It was the very ring that belonged to one of his closest friends. He had known Edward for most of his life. Sadness washed over him, Edward too must have been a victim of this robber. He decided to set out the next day and return the ring to his friend who he knew would be delighted to see it again.

Early the next morning the man set out for Edward's home. When he arrived he was greeted by Edward's elderly servant who informed him that his master wasn't well having met with a serious accident the night before.

As the man entered Edward's bedroom, he saw his ailing friend propped up in bed, his arm bandaged at the stump of his severed wrist. His was overcome with sadness, it was dawning on him just what had happened the night before. But before he could speak Edward spoke, "My friend please forgive me, I have done a terrible thing against you and have been punished for my actions." The man regained his composure and said, "It was you." Edward replied, "Yes my friend and I am so very sorry. I have bad gambling debts and I had no way of repaying them, my reputation and honour were at stake. Knowing that you were carrying a large sum of money, it seemed the only option. I was not thinking clearly. Please forgive me." The man sat beside Edward and said, "Of course I forgive you, desperate men do desperate things."

The man could see that Edward was severely ill and not long for this world. He had lost a considerable amount of blood, after a short while Edward lapsed into unconsciousness and died. And even though his friend had forgiven him Edward's spirit could not rest. The ghost of Edward was seen many times roaming the countryside riding his horse. Finally at the request of the local villagers, twelve clergymen gathered to lay his guilty spirit to rest and Edward's ghost was seen no more.

There are more great tales and stories over on our dedicated Herefordshire History and Folklore page, why not take a look:

www.eatsleepliveherefordshire.co.uk/information/history-and-folklore



These stories are curated from many sources where accuracy cannot be guaranteed and retold in our fun ESL style, in the true spirit of Folklore magic.

**FOLKLORE FRIDAY**

In some of the best folklore tales there are always great characters, some more of this world than others but all interesting all the same. Even the much loved mermaid has made an appearance, although the one we're about to talk about is not your usual ray of happy sunshine, in fact she was rather grumpy and uncooperative. You may have heard of her before, she was the 'Mermaid of Marden'. Now you wouldn't necessarily expect to hear of a mermaid residing in one of our lovely villages, afterall we're landlocked and the nearest stretch of sea is quite a way away. But none the less who are we to determine the movements of mermaids, in the world of folklore almost anything is possible.

So our tale today involves a priest, some villagers, a church bell and a cantankerous mermaid.

It was a Sunday like many others that had gone before, the church was ready to welcome its parishioners and all the local priest needed to do was something he did every week, it was to ring the church bell. Except this week he was more enthusiastic than normal, and as he pulled the bell rope, the church bell dislodged and fell from its hold and subsequently rolled right into the River Lugg. Shocked at his own strength the priest took a moment to replay what had happened and think how on earth he was going to retrieve the bell. After numerous attempts and to no avail he stood back pondering his plight and while doing so he noticed a man peering into the lugg. He look rather bemused, understandably there was a church bell in the river not a usual occurrence on a Sunday but his face seemed to indicate something else was troubling him. As the priest moved closer to see what he was looking at he spotted the bell from the bank but to his surprise he saw a mermaid wrapped tightly around it.

A mermaid in Herefordshire he thought, that's quite unbelievable. The two men discussed the best way to retrieve the bell from the mermaid, neither having had experience in negotiating with mermaids the villager made the first attempt. He was courteous and calm, trying to catch her eye and drawing her attention to him and when she finally acknowledged him he was quite surprised at the response he received. This mermaid was sassy and she didn't like being disturbed one little bit. In fact she complained about the weekly ringing disturbing her peace and decided to claim the bell for herself. The priest started to panic, this would not do, what would his parishioners think! So he continued to try and lift the bell from its watery resting place and in doing so disturbed the mermaid once more. In response she grew even more angry and then cut the rope being used to hoist the bell to land, sending the bell back into the depths of the river. The priest and the villager looked on in despair, the bell was gone forever.

Now you may think the story ends here, but it does not. Many a villager and visitor attempted to locate the bell over the following years and the story went that the mermaid grew so tired of their meddling and poking around in the River Lugg that she hid the bell in a pond near to the church, where low and behold it was discovered again in 1848.

The moral of this story is let sleeping mermaids lie! For those who are interested 'The Marden Bell' can be viewed in the Herefordshire Museum.

There are more great tales and stories over on our dedicated Herefordshire History and Folklore page, why not take a look:

www.eatsleepliveherefordshire.co.uk/information/history-and-folklore



These stories are curated from many sources where accuracy cannot be guaranteed and retold in our fun ESL style, in the true spirit of Folklore magic.