Holy Cross Church Seend

The village of Seend is situated on the A361 between Devizes and Trowbridge.

I would venture this pretty little village could be forgiven if it were described as opulent, grandiose and maybe just a little ostentatious in its unabashed display of lavish 18th and 19th century manor houses, many of which are concealed behind towering walled enclosures. These beautiful buildings line the High Street, reminders of a time when Wiltshire's thriving wool industry made fortunes for a lucky few.

Just off the High Street is a lane, some 200 yards long, that leads down to the 15th century (although it has Norman foundations) church of the Holy Cross. It is at the arched, rustic iron church gates, that a spectral funeral cortege, comprising of several individuals, ends its solemn procession.

Witnesses tell of having seen the ghostly procession cross the A361 from the village and disappear into the lane. I wonder, could it be possible that the construction of the A361 may have disrupted a ghostly residue and inadvertently triggered a 'psychic playback' from another time.

Descriptions have varied little over the years, but in the main most describe a party consisting of several hazy individuals dressed in dark mourning attire of an 18th century style.

One such account took place in 2006 as an elderly couple were leaving the church having paid their respects at the grave of a relative. Leaving the church they passed through the gates and started back up the lane when they noticed several people walking slowly towards them. Aware of the tales surrounding the lane, they stood 'transfixed' as the procession silently approached them diminishing with every step until nothing was left but an empty lane.

The lane is flanked by high brick walls which conceal the manor houses beyond. It can be lonely spot, a secluded alley away from the village and the thunder of traffic as it passes by on the A361.  A place I would wager may well harbour a haunting or two.

St. John the Baptist & St. Helen - Wroughton

St. John the Baptist Church


The Haunted Yew Tree


North end, where the ghost of a woman has been seen, possibly a victim of premature burial.

The village of Wroughton lies 3 miles south of Swindon. Evidence of a settlement at Wroughton can be traced back to the Mesolithic, though archaeology for this period is a little thin on the ground, if you pardon the pun. In contrast, many scattered finds found throughout the area indicate a settlement at Wroughton during the Neolithic period, not surprising when you consider its close proximity to the Avebury complex.

There have been two decisive battles at Wroughton. The first was in 556AD, when the West Saxons led by Cynric and Ceawlin defeated the Britons near the Iron Age hill fort of Barbury Castle.

The second battle was at Ellendune (Wroughton's former name) between King Beornwulf of Mercia and King Egbert of Wessex, which was to end in a decisive victory for Egbert and a pivotal event in English history. Burial sites in the vicinity are believed to be associated with the battle.

The current Grade I listed church is built of dressed sarsen stone. The original church, of which nothing remains, first appeared in the Ellendune charter of 956 appending the recognition of a boundary wall. The construction of the current church began in the 12th century. What can be seen today is mainly 14th century and, in the case of the tower, 15th century. More recent restoration work was carried out in the 19th century by T.H. Wyatt in 1846. Further work was undertaken in the 1850s, 1880s and in 1905.

The Haunted Yew
I recently visited St John’s and on entering the graveyard, I couldn’t help but notice the immense Yew tree to the south. It’s canopy covers some 60 feet or so in all directions. Centuries old headstones encrusted with lichen stand in its shadows, their inscriptions long since eroded by the passage of time. As I approached the Yew, a sudden gust of wind disturbed its branches, causing its heavy bulk to creak and groan like and old sailing ship.  It was at that moment I was reminded of the stories surrounding this grand old tree.

I had lived in Wroughton for most of my childhood and had heard tales about a haunted tree in the churchyard. There had been stories of folk claiming to have seen a ghostly figure of a man, a man believed by some to have hung himself from its very branches earning it a place in local legend. Many described a chilling feeling of ‘being watched‘ as they tended the graves of a loved ones. Others claimed to have had a fleeting glimpse, a peripheral sighting if you like of a 'shadowy figure' standing close to or under the tree.

Sightings of this mysterious wraith still occur today. The figure is always described as wearing black, its features indiscernible, concealed by the trees' deep shadows.

There is a creepy story attached to this grand old giant, which as kids, none of us ever had the gumption to try out. The tale goes, that should you run round the tree anti-clockwise thirteen times and on the stroke of midnight, you will summon the 'Tree Ghost.' What is not clear however, is once the Tree Ghost has been summoned, what method should be deployed to send it back from whence it came. If I recall, the ambiguity of the stoires outcome was enough as kids, to deter us from playing out the ritual. It is unclear whether the Tree Ghost and the shadowy figure are one of the same apparition.

A Story of Premature Burial.
The Victorians lived in fear of premature burial, also known as vivisepulture. Their understanding of coma, catalepsy and disorders of the nervous system were in their infancy. Their fear arose during a time when burial sites in England were at a premium. It was not uncommon to dig up old graves and store the bones in ‘bone houses’ allowing space for the recently deceased. It would be a gruesome discovery when exhuming the dead (1 in 25) to find evidence of scratch marks in the coffin.

The Victorians would go to extraordinary lengths to ensure they would not fall victim to a living entombment. The thought of being pronounced dead and then waking up in the cloying, suffocating blackness of one’s own coffin was just too much to have to imagine. One example of ‘taphephobia’ was to instruct the undertakers (before one’s death of course) to make a small hole in the lid of the coffin where a chain or piece of rope was passed through and attached to the corpse’s wrist, whilst the other end was affixed on top of the filled grave to a post with a bell attached to it. I can't help but wonder, who would be prepared to sit all day and all night beside the grave, just in case its occupant should wake and tinkle the bell. It was this bizarre practice of chain/rope and bell, that gave rise to the expressions ‘saved by the bell’, ‘dead ringer’ and 'the graveyard shift'.

It was not until 1852, when the stethoscope became widely available, that a noticeable decline in errors regarding the pronouncement of death would go some way to ease the troubled minds of many a Victorian.

It is strongly rumoured, though not confirmed, that such a fate befell a young woman buried at St. John the Baptist during the 19th century. Shortly after her burial, it was discovered to the horror of the family physician, that the woman was subject to seizures which would paralyze her entire body giving the impression of death. Her coffin was hastily exhumed and when opened, it was clear to all that the body had moved but what was more horrific, was the discovery of deep scratches on the underside of the coffin lid, inflicted by the terrified woman’s desperate, futile attempts to claw her way to freedom.

Could it be that the ghostly figure of a woman wearing a tattered dress the colour of ash and in the style of the Victorian period, be that of the poor wretch who met her death as a result of premature burial. She is most often encountered at the north end of the churchyard where she stands quite motionless until approached, whereupon she vanishes.

St. Nicholas Church - Biddestone

The small picturesque Cotswold village of Biddestone dates from Saxon times and is probably how one would describe the quintessential English village. The village green and duck pond are flanked by quaint cottages and some rather opulent 18th century houses. A couple of traditional English pubs serving fine ales and wholesome fayre complete the picture.

The church of St. Nicholas was built over Saxon foundations but is mainly of Norman construction. A magnificent 300 year old oak door opens into the nave where a 300 year old font dominates the central aisle. The church organ, which is a mere 200 years in comparison, was reputedly last played in 1972.

The rare bell turret was built in c.1480 and was constructed to house the medieval Sanctus bell, which was rung religiously (pardon the pun) three times a day at the point of consecration, so the ploughmen, farmers and shepherds in nearby fields who were unable to attend the service, could cross themselves.

It is said that the graveyard is haunted by the figure of a man dressed in black who was reputedly hanged therein. Just what his crime was, and the date of his execution seemed shrouded in secrecy. Several attempts to extract information from the local diocese have been met with a wall of silence. Am I to believe, if the story be true, that the church is a little embarrassed by this past transgression.

St. Peter's Church - Broad Hinton

South View


North View


An Unpleasant Experience This Way Comes

St. Peter’s ad Vincula Broad Hinton

Earliest records for St. Peter’s were thought to date back to the thirteenth century but when discovering a pair of 10th century Saxon window-heads during repairs in the nineteenth century, which are an integral part of the interior walls (one to north face of the chancel arch and one to the west of the vestry) records had to be amended. The church was restored in 1634-35 and what you see today has remained pretty much unchanged.

Stepping through the lych-gate from the north, I was immediately struck by St. Peter’s quiet serenity but then I guess most churches convey a sense of tranquility. Little did I know what was in store when my good lady and I reached the back of the church. More about that later and not what you're thinking!

Lady Winnifred Glanville of Broad Hinton Manor and Her Lost Treasure

There is a story that relates to a period in 1645, when one Lady Glanville, on hearing that none other than Oliver Cromwell himself was to pay her a personal visit to claim back unpaid taxes (parliament had decreed it was to recover all taxes owed during the years of 1644 - 1645) which she and her husband insisted had already been paid in full.

Fearing the worst, so the story goes. Lady Glanville quickly gathered up all her silver, jewels and cash and secretly buried them somewhere in Broad Hinton village. She was determined that Cromwell would not extort anymore from the family estate. I have to say, when researching for this post the validity of  Cromwell actually visiting Lady Granville in person is debatable. I would venture it was most likely a consort of Cromwell’s rather than the man himself. Having said that, for this post, what the hell! Cromwell it is then.

Arriving at Broad Hinton Manor, Cromwell and his men were met at the door by a distraught Lady Glanville brandishing a burning torch. Taken aback by the woman’s belligerent demeanor, Cromwell watched in disbelief as Lady Glanville hurled the torch back into the Manor directly onto a pile of wood that she had stacked in the hall in preparation for his impending visit. The house was immediately engulfed in flames and Cromwell, seeing Lady Glanville had obviously lost her mind (as indeed she later would, suffering a breakdown and dementia) left empty handed and no doubt a tad bewildered.

There is another version of the story, that suggests that Sir John Glanville, Lady Glanville’s husband, set light to the property well before Cromwell arrived and in so doing denied Cromwell and his men any claim to the property. I think the first version is more exciting. Picture the dear woman waving a burning torch under Cromwell’s nose, sounds so much more heroic.

Much later, a broken-hearted and mentally fragile Lady Glanville, surprising really: her husband now incarcerated in the Tower of London (formerly the speaker of the House of Commons) for supporting the wrong side during the Civil Wars. Her son Francis - dead, a victim of the same war, his body returned to Broad Hinton by request from Lady Glanville where he was interned within St. Peter‘s Church. A statue of Francis was commissioned by Lady Glanville and can be seen in the church along with his gloves and helmet.

So. Lady Glanville, now frail of mind could never remember where she had buried her loot. It is believed to this day, that somewhere in the village of Broad Hinton there lays buried a considerable fortune. It is this fortune that Lady Glanville's ghost is said to search for. A spectral figure dressed in period costume with a mournful expression is said to wonder the churchyard and the area near to the church tower. Some have even claimed to have seen her ghost about the village, close to where the Manor used to stand.

St.Peter’s Ley Line

Now, back to the rear of the church as promised. To the north is the tower, beside which are several stone steps which lead down to an underground chamber of sorts. Not sure what the chamber is, or was used for as it was pitch black. It was whilst my good lady was descending these steps that she was suddenly gripped by an intense feeling of nausea, so much so, that she was unable to reach the bottom and had to return to the top. After a few minutes she called me over and ask me to go down the steps. I asked her what was down there that I should be interested in. “Never mind that just go down the steps,” she insisted. She said nothing of her experience as I started down the steps. On reaching the bottom she asked whether I had felt anything. “No, what am I supposed to be feeling?” I replied. It was then she told me what happened. Reluctantly she followed me down but again she felt unwell and had to return to the top.

Later, when I was researching the history of the church, I noticed in one journal a reference to a ley line. To my surprise, the document indicated that the ley ran approximate where the tower and steps are. For those not in to know, a ley line is a hypothetical line of ‘earth energy’ which is thought to align ancient monuments and places of geographical and historic importance. This ley happens to connect the village of Bincknoll Castle to St. Peter’s Church, where is passes through the lych-gate then on past the rear of the tower. From there, it traces a line to Avebury, then terminates at Tan Hill..

Now, I’m given to understand that there are positive and negative leys and that the latter can make some people who are of a sensitive nature feel stressed, nauseous and generally uncomfortable. What was of greater interest was the discovery that one of the locations where the ghostly figure of Lady Glanville has reputably been seen is close to those very same steps. Interesting me thinks.

Photograph, Chris Martin. For a full account relating to the above image, go to the 'comments' page at the foot of the post.