A Legend of KIRBY KNOWLE CASTLE
Now Known as NEW BUILDINGS
BY RICHARD BLAKEBOROUGH
Transcribed from the Whitby Gazette — 12 May 19051THE GOOD WITCH OF HAMBLETON. | Whitby Gazette | Friday 12 May 1905 | British Newspaper Archive’. 2023. Britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk <https://www.britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk/viewer/bl/0001103/19050512/101/0006> [accessed 23 May 2023]
The following legend is almost perfect, and is a splendid type of old-time fireside story. There is proof that it was known two hundred years ago, and in its original form most probably listened to many a long year before that date. The reader will at once perceive how personages and other matter of comparatively recent date have been woven in make the story fit the knowledge possessed, and the time in which the reciter lived. These touches however, are so very easy of detection, that they in no wise detract from either the interest or the merit of the story itself.
THE LEGEND.
Ursula, a beautiful maiden, the daughter of the jolly miller of Kirby Knowle was beloved by Dick of Borrowby, and their lovemaking was of the happiest character. The cloud which gathered for time and cast a shadow of deep gloom over their young lives, originated in a fit of ungovernable, and unholy passion in the breast of the young priest, lately installed as Confessor of Upsall Castle. For a time Ursula was blind to the real meaning of the flattering the young priest paid her. At last, this recreant father laid aside the mask which had barely hidden his real intentions, had Ursula been experienced in the wickedness of the world. But her eyes were then opened, and she fully recognised her difficult and dangerous position. She learnt beyond all doubt that she was loved, madly, wickedly loved, by one to whom, had he been free to woo her, she could never have given the least shadow of hope. He pleaded, caved, and in turn cursed and blessed her, and altogether behaved as one bereft of reason. With all the subtlety of a man well versed in intrigue, he strove to beguile her from the path of virtue. He did it all, everything man is capable of doing when he plays the part of a pupil of the evil one, but his prayers, and promises of absolution, fell upon deaf ears; she had no love to give, and he failed to prove there was no sin in his wicked proposals.
When he saw beyond all doubt that the maiden was as pure as beautiful, he proved himself to be a worthy pupil of his master, the prince of darkness. He told her he had only been tempting her, and now he felt she was worthy of the best and purest blessings the church and the saints could shower upon her head and comfort her pure heart. But his pleading had been too real, too impassioned; his eyes had shone upon her ablaze with light which her innocent ignorance could not mistake. His specious explanation was a lie, and Ursula knew and felt it to be such. “He tempted me, hoping and wishing I might yield,” her heart whispered, and she knew it was the truth. He, let him act his part never so well, could never deceive her again. So, she hurried home, thanking the blessed Virgin for keeping her safe from his clutches.
It was a delicate task, but that evening Ursula told her lover much of what had happened as maidenly modesty would permit, and he, by a few carefully put questions, drew from her sufficient information to convince him that a terrible danger threatened the maiden he so dearly loved. Bidding her be of good heart, he parted from her promising to devise some means for their mutual security, for he felt his own safety endangered. But that same evening, when Ursula was about to retire for the night, she heard her favourite hound howling as if pain. Snatching up her hood and cloak, she ran along the dam-side, in the direction of its kennel; this was a considerable distance from the house. When almost at her destination, she was surrounded by several men, and before she could utter a cry for help, a thick cloak or sack was pulled over her head, and a ruffianly voice threatened to throw her into the dam if she dared utter a sound. Presently the covering was removed, a gag thrust into her mouth, a bandage tied over her eyes, and then she was hurried away, she knew not wither. After a time, she was aware they passed through a doorway, and by the cold air which met her, she felt sure she was forced along a passage; then, half carried and half pushed, they began ascending a flight of steps; what happened afterwards she knew not, as she fell into the arms the man at her side in a dead faint. When she regained consciousness she discovered she was lying a prisoner in a stone cell. How long she remained there before the swung back upon its rusty hinges, admitting the confessor, she had no idea. The gross nature the man was now made mnifest, all disguise on his part being abandoned. Placing a lanthorn upon the floor, he approached and would have seized hold of her, had he not seen she held a dagger in her hand. “Touch me!” she cried, “and I will sheath this dagger in my heart. It has been given to save my honour.” She had obtained possession of it in this wise, as she was being hurried along, half carried by one of the confessor’s varlets, her hand unconsciously had fallen upon the handle as it protruded from the man’s belt. For a moment the villain was checkmated. He saw the light in her eyes, and her resolute face, that her threat to take her life was no idle menace. It was matterless, she was his prisoner; he would send her food in which a powerful drug was mixed, which would send her to sleep, and then the weapon could easily be taken from her. Laughing in her face, he lifted the lanthorn until the dim light shone upon her face, saying, as he gazed upon her wonderous beauty in a jeering tone: “Well, my dear, you are in power, now; you had been wiser to have lent a willing ear to my prayers. I can bide my time; you are to all intents buried alive: you are mine, body and soul.” “No! no!” cried Ursula, “that you can never claim or imprison.” Then the villain threatened what he would do, gloating over the look of fear which filled her eyes, and then he left her.
How long it was before food and a light were brought her an attendant, she could not guess. In answer to her question, “When am I?” the man touched his lips, pointed with his thumbs over his shoulder towards the door, shook his head, and, without uttering a word, departed. The instant the bolt shot in the lock, Ursula heard little squeak. On holding the light near to the ground, she perceived the head of a rat peeping from a hole, of which there were many where the walls and the floor met. If Ursula had a fear of one kind of vermin more than another, it was rats. The instant she beheld its sharp nose and bead-like eyes peering at her, she stepped back a few paces, too terrified to cry for help. What was her surprise, when, a moment later, it sprang upon the tray, and commenced smelling the food which had just been brought for her meal on three platters, two of which it smelt at passed by, but the third it deliberately polluted. Then, springing from the tray it fearlessly approached the shrinking maiden, tore off a shred of her skirt, and scampered away. Then Ursula felt its visit had a meaning which she could not even guess at; but her mind was soon set at rest upon this point, for, within a few short minutes it appeared again, this time having a piece of string around its neck, attached to which was a tiny slip of paper. Then without fear or trembling, the maiden removed the slip, to which was attached a small lead stile. Upon the slip was written, “Say where you are imprisoned. Dick.” Writing upon the other side. “Am not sure but believe in dungeon, Hill Top Castle, prisoner of Confessor.” Fastening the slip about the rat’s neck, she watched it depart with a thrill hope, such as she had never dreamt of but a few minutes before. That the rat had fouled the food on one of the platters, she had no doubt had been done so that she should not taste it. It was not an accident, but proof that she was under the protection either of an angel or the blessed saints; and from that moment she felt she was perfectly secure, and willing to abide God’s time and will. Again hour succeeded hour; the light had long burnt itself out, leaving her in total darkness. Then once again the door swung open, admitting her tormentor. His surprise was evident when he discovered her wide awake. Flashing his light upon the platters, he found one yet untouched. “Do the saints protect you?” he exclaimed, filled with amazement. “We shall see! Will you yield your dagger without my using force?” “Never!” she cried, boldly confronting him. “Then seize her!” he shouted, pointing as though some one was standing at the back of her. He succeeded. Involuntarily turning her head in that direction, and before she realised that she had been tricked, the priest seized her wrist, and twisted the dagger out of her hand. “Now!” cried he, exultantly, “I defy all the powers that be; nothing earthly, heavenly, or from hell itself can save you. You are mine, sweet Ursula.” Winding his arm about her supple waist, bent his face, seeking to polute his lips: but, even as his lips almost met her’s, whilst his eyes feasted upon her white throat and swelling bust, he was startled, and was driven from his purpose. Through the partly-open door, from innumerable holes the roof, walls, and floor, there swarmed a countless army of rats, each moment adding to their number.
The priest dropped the unconscious form of Ursula upon her rude couch, intending to make good his escape, but, the instant he made a step towards the door, he beheld thousands of white teeth glistening in anger barring his exit. Again he made the attempt, but he saw they would attack him if he dared approach nearer to the half open door. Then, to increase his terror, part if the floor suddenly gave way, and an old dame sprang from the bowels of the earth into the dungeon. Queer-looking she was, but her face was stern; in her hand she carried a lanthorn and a besom.
“Come, Ursula!” she called, rousing the maiden as if by magic touch, “other arms wait to clasp you in their fond embrace; but, before you leave this prison, ’tis only fit you should see something of the punishment this demon in guise has been sentenced to suffer.” So saying, she took Ursula by the hand, and shouted, in a commanding voice. “ Rats! this is your victim.” As a living cloud, they swarmed upon the evil man. He knew his doom had overtaken him. With one effort he strove to reach the door. It was a fruitless attempt; like a cloud of evil sprites they brought him to the ground. Ursula was more dragged than led to the hole through which the dame had sprung. It was amidst the yells and shrieks, the last sounds given by a lost soul sinking into everlasting perdition, that Ursula was led creeping along a narrow passage, she turned not whither, until, at last, she found herself held in the loving embrace of her own true love. She was saved, and safe for ever.
NOTE.— So far, we have been telling the earlier story. In the second part, much of what belongs to the root story, has been woven into it, but which, in the main, is the invention of those living at a much later date. The witch here mentioned was a dame once widely known. She seems to have been more seer than cruel witch, as most of her actions were a kindly character generally using her powers in aid the oppressed.
Part II.
DICK OF BORROWBY’S STORY.
An hour after midnight on the evening I left you, Ursula, your brother Harold called me to arise quickly. He then told me you had left the house and never returned; your hood and cloak were both lying on the dam-side, and that the confessor was spreading the report that he had seen us both walking near the dam; and he thought we were quarrelling. He further made several grave charges against me to your brother, which he declared you had confessed to him that afternoon. Harold did not, of course, believe a word against me, but advised me to flee at once, for, in the excitement of the moment, he felt sure the priest would strive to have me arrested, and under his orders there was no telling what might happen to me. “But,” said I, “if I go away, and it is not discovered whither has hidden your sister” — for we both were sure your disappearance was his evil work — “people will be sure to say I am guilty.” “Just so.” said he, “but, if you remain here, the probability you will never have a chance given you to prove your innocence.”
I saw the force of his argument, and decided to hide myself, for a few days, at least. I threw a few things together, and quietly left the house, intending to my uncle, one of the fathers at Rievaulx Abbey. I set off on a circuitous route to Cowesby, and then hastened Arden-wards. It was when I was about a mile from the stepping-stones, which crossed the beck near to Conygarth, that I noticed old dame hobbling along in front of me, carrying a heavy sack upon her back. Being very desirous that no one ahould see me. I lay down in the ling; but I had hardly done so when a pebble hit me; then a second, and a third. Seeing that I was discovered, I showed myself. “Come hither!” cried the dame, “and fetch my pebbles with thee; I cannot afford to lose one of them. Pray, why thou hide thyself?” she asked. “It’s only those whose hearts churn black blood who fear to show their faces. Come up with my sack, and take it over the foot-stones for me. I am old, and to-day very tired, and the stones are wide apart for old legs.” And then, as we went along, she said, “Thou art in trouble, unburden thy heart; thou wilt find old ears willing to hearken, and it might, perchance, happen that I could help thee in thy straight.” So kindly did she beg me to unburden my heart that, without considering the wisdom of making such statement, I said. “I will tell thee all.” “A moment” said she, “there is no time to waste. I will hearken into thy trouble afterwards.” Opening her sack, she drew forth three rabbits. Deftly skinning two. she bade me tie a skin, fur side inwards, on either foot. Thus shod, she gave me the third coney, and bade me, at different points, to cross the beck three times, each time running about hundred yards inland, until I came to an old tree, uprooted by the gale. At its roots, I was to drop the third coney, run back to the beck, walk up the middle of the stream, leaving at the same place I entered. When I again rejoined the dame, she said. “There is no time for me to hearken to thy doleful tale of love now. Thou must speed thy feet. I tell thee, even now, at this very instant, the bloodhounds are straining at the leash, which are to follow thee. Quick! give me the skins, that I may bind them upon my old feet.” A few moments later, she sped away with the fleetness of young athlete, shouting, as she left me. “Speed thy feet until thou come to the cave of the Witch of Black Hambleton.” But, before I could ask for directions to the cave, she passed down the hill, and was running with the fleetness of the animals whose skins were tied about her feet. With a heart bowed, and heavy with trouble and doubt, I made my way towards Black Hambleton, keeping to the edge of the bogs and becks as much possible, so as to destroy my scent. Many a weary mile I wandered, in search of the witch’s cave, until, at last, quite worn out, I seated myself upon boulder. Whilst thus resting, I saw a lovely ring-dove striving to escape from a hawk. I rose to my feet, and followed the doomed bird, and I was so fortunate to kill the hawk with a stone, just its talons were about to strike the fluttering dove.
“A good mark, and good augury,” cried my aged friend of the sack and rabbit skins. “Come hither,” she called, “and thou shalt have a hearty welcome to my cave. And now then,” said she, when she had got comfortably seated, “let me harken to thy story.” Having, at its conclusion. asked a few questions, she brought forth a brazen bowl, half filling it with fair water, which she brought in a leathern jug from a spring hard by. She bade me gaze thereon. “Keep thine eyes fixed upon the water; the signs of the day are all in thy favour, and if it so hap the signs of the night are equally so, thou wilt gain the wish of thine heart. If not, no one knoweth what may in store for thee.” Then, pausing for a few moments, she inquired, “Seest thou any sign within the bowl?”
“Yes,” I answered. “There be three stars, like unto the bigness and brightness of moons. The largest and smallest are near together. The largest star has a black cloud hanging near to and partly over it. It falls, it is falling upon the smaller one. It will crush it. But no! the cloud has enveloped it. I know not what has become of it; it is utterly gone. The two distant stars are now drawing nearer together. They are joined, they have become but one star.”
“It is well! it is well!” cried the dame. “Thy good star is surely in the ascendant. We must now make all haste to Upsall forest.” So saying, she handed me an old broom, and bade me sit astride it, the same as she did. And then she cried, “Heigho! to Upsall forest,” and in the twinkling of an eye, we were transported thither.
Bidding me be seated upon a fallen tree, she held a piece of bacon swarth in the flame of her lanthorn candle. A savoury smell soon floated upon the night air. Almost instantly, from all quarters, rats began to gather about her. Catching up several, she gently stroked them, and then, setting them down, and bidding the rest to cease their gambols, and hearken to her commands, she bade them with all speed to search every room, vault, and dungeon in both castles, for a fair damsel held in durance. Within the half hour, one large rat returned, bearing a shred of her dress in its mouth. From it we presently learnt from her note the locality her prison.
When I knew she was held a prisoner in one of the castle dungeons, my heart sank within me. I knew their strength, and I felt what little could an old dame and myself do to rescue her, and my heart sank within me. Mistress of magic though the witch might be, I felt the walls were beyond her power to either move or break through. And in the agony of my heart, I bowed my head and cried aloud in my grief, “Mv lost Ursula! my lost darling!” During these few moments that I was so unmanned, my companion was very busy. Again she filled the air with the savoury smell, and as before the rats crowded about her. “Gather all your forces, and go ye and protect the damsel. There is not a moment to lose, haste ye to do my bidding.” Then, making three sharp taps upon the ground with her broom handle, she called, “Come conies in your hundreds. I need ye to dig for me.” To the dozen or two rabbits which once responded to her call, she commanded them to marshal every rabbit they could find, saying to them “Go! spread ye the good news, every rabbit which works in my service this night, I promise for twelve-month come this day they shall be free from all attacks or hurt from foxes, weasels, martens, stoats, mowr-pates2Badgers., and all cats, hawks, and all birds of prey.” Then bidding them haste to spread the good news, she bade them haste to a copse near the eastern tower of the castle on the hill. So expeditious were they in spreading the news, that when we reached the copse, we discovered an immense number of rabbits already gathered together, and their number was being rapidly increased by new arrivals. Several rats pointed where they were to dig, and, really, under the attack of their countless feet, the around seemed to dissolve. Whilst one batch deepened the hole, another lot scattered the rising mound of earth far afield. When one lot tired, others instantly sprang forward to take their place. So that in one short hour from our arriving at the copse, I had my darling safe and unhurt in my loving embrace. It was just as Ursula’s arms wound about her lover’s neck, and a heartfelt, and soul-born prayer of thanksgiving passed her lips, for her deliverance from fate worse than death, that fearful yell seemed to rise out of the bowels of the earth, and several rats came hopping around the dame with wild-looking wicked beady eyes, and noses stained with blood. Their fearful task was ended. Worried, torn, and dreadfully disfigured, the body of the dead priest was discovered early that day.
But legend says it was many years before it eked out how he had come by his death, how or why some one had managed to undermine the foundations of the castle. From this it would seem the master of Kirby Knowle Castle was ignorant of the priest’s plot. It must be borne in mind that although he had free access to the castle, yet he had no business to incarcerate anyone there, and this must have been done to hide Ursula beyond all hope of discovery. One old lady told me, she was doubtless carried there through a secret underground passage which ran from one Castle to the other.
As the happy lovers left the hill, and just before the witch bade them “Good luck,” swinging her broom thrice about her head, she cried aloud:—
“Seea lang es this hill
A boos diz stan’,
For ivver theer s’all rattens swarm,
While conies pussen t’ lan’;
Bud s’u’d it tumm’l;
Wal’s ti all that day.
T’conies ‘ll leave the’r burrows,
T’ rattens ‘ll stay.3As long as this hill A house does stand, Forever there shall rats swarm, While rabbits spoil the land; But should it tumble; Woe to all on that day. The rabbits will leave their burrows, The rats will stay.
NOTE.—There are several other dale legends in which animals play such an active part. In that wonderful legend. “Elphi the Farndale Dwarf,” they again act as the executioners of evil-doers. Again and again we find the same idea doing duty, i.e., in return for some kindly act rendered to an unknown aged person (usually a witch or seer) the help most needed to overcome some great difficulty, is st once forthcoming. The history this legend is some what of interest. The wife of John Thompson, blacksmith of Sutton-under-Whitestonecliffe, was for many years maid at Kirby Knowle rectory. During her service at the rectory, there often called at the house an old dame, commonly known “Au’d Bliss Ya.” This was in the early years of 1800. This old lady, in return for such scraps and other oddments the maids could spare, told them ghost and other stories of a bloodcurdling character. Unfortunately, of the many stories this dame is known to have related, only three are now remembered, and two of these but very imperfectly. This story naturally was of deeper interest to the maids, because it all happened in a house they could see out of the rectory windows. It was most firmly believed in and accepted as quite true, because a certain fine dame, Mrs. Powley or Lawley, the housekeeper at the great house where the dungeon was to be seen, and credited with a knowledge of certain secrets in connection with the former history of the place, did not deny the truth of the legend when she heard “Au’d Bliss You” recite it. It is a regrettable fact that this grand personage could never be induced to tell what she did know. In the spring of 1821 or 1822, the smith at Catterick Bridge, being confined to his bed, Thompson, a connection by marriage, took charge of his forge. It was during this period that Mr. W. Scorer, my informant, heard the story, which Thompson knew word for word. The concluding verse was given me some years ago by an old resident of Easingwold. This old lady told me she learnt it when a girl, being taught it by one Harry Temple of Raskelf. These lines, however, seem to have been all Temple knew, as she never heard him tell the story. He used to declare that the words were once uttered by the Witch of Black Hambleton. If I remember rightly, the late Mrs. Stafford-Thompson told me, “There were very few rabbits about the place.” I am quite clear as the fact, that rats, for ages, had been pest about New Buildings. Indeed, many Valuable works in the library were, some years ago. completely destroyed by the ravages of these animals.
- 1THE GOOD WITCH OF HAMBLETON. | Whitby Gazette | Friday 12 May 1905 | British Newspaper Archive’. 2023. Britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk <https://www.britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk/viewer/bl/0001103/19050512/101/0006> [accessed 23 May 2023]
- 2Badgers.
- 3As long as this hill A house does stand, Forever there shall rats swarm, While rabbits spoil the land; But should it tumble; Woe to all on that day. The rabbits will leave their burrows, The rats will stay.