Haunted Salisbury

For Diana Nora Nash (1937–2011) who left us with so much – including an open mind

In memory of my late father, Jack Moody, whose spirit lives on

Contents

Foreword

Introduction

one    Ales, Wines and Spirits

two    Noble Executions

three    Bound for the Gallows

four    Spellbound

five    Villages of the Damned

six    The Children who Never Grew

seven    An Uncomfortable Waiting Room

eight    The Man who would be King

nine    Close Encounters

Where we Heard our Stories

About the Authors

Foreword

GHOSTS, ghouls, spirits, spectres, spooks, things that go bump in the night – all have provided an endless source of oral and psychic fascination for generations. Ever since our ancient ancestors confined their dead to the afterlife, the spirit world has proved to be a potent influence to people across many parts of the world; and still is, despite increased secular attitudes in modern society. Some souls have proved to be more restless than others and have refused to lie down. All have returned to some of our most familiar and often unlikely locations to visit present generations.

Tales of the supernatural abound right here in our own city of Salisbury: locations within sight of the spire and the surrounding area, phantoms in public houses, victims of macabre murder, condemned traitors and convicted felons. Also many tales that have never been told before, which are now contained within the pages of this book, shrouded behind a fascinating historical background.

Believer or sceptic, ghost stories exist in abundance. Few people have failed to meet someone who has not encountered a ghost, an apparition or inexplicable presence within a room. For many, such encounters can produce life-changing results. These stories may inspire the reader to view local landmarks with new eyes, to enjoy, read or merely dip into; whatever the interest, ghost stories remain some of the most captivating stories ever told.

Phil Harding

Channel 4 Time Team

Wessex Archaeology

The imposing thirteenth-century Salisbury Cathedral at dusk. (Alan Clarke)

Introduction

IN south Wiltshire, the shadows of human existence fall long and wide. The river valleys leading to Salisbury Plain in the north and the royal hunting grounds of Cranborne Chase and the New Forest in the south are littered with forts and earthworks, tumuli and churches, memorials and plaques. From the mysteries of Stonehenge, which life-times have been spent unravelling, to the achievements of twentieth-century pop stars, the region has played its part in every significant period of British history.

Within this context Salisbury, which dominates the area in terms of population, employment, recreation and culture, is a relatively modern city. The classic medieval grid-patterned streets were initially built up around the thirteenth-century Cathedral Church of the Blessed Virgin Mary, which had replaced an older cathedral sited at nearby Old Sarum, after Bishop Poore fell out with Henry III.

This oldest part of the new city does however have an atmosphere of great antiquity and with this comes the stories – the mysteries, witches and curses and … the ghosts. Even the cathedral itself has its legends.

It is said that when Bishop Poore was seeking a site for his new cathedral, he asked an archer to fire an arrow from Old Sarum in to the valley below, and where it landed so fate would decree the building should begin. How did the arrow fly for two miles? The legend has it that, by chance, the arrow struck a deer, which ran on for some distance before expiring. Then there was the theory, expounded across 1940s playgrounds, that Salisbury had not been Blitzed as Adolf Hitler intended to marry Eva Braun in the cathedral.

The cynic might argue that the bishop selected his building site for the lushness and sheltered nature of the fields in this part of the Avon Valley (which he happened to own), and the Luftwaffe found the cathedral spire a useful landmark on its way to Bristol and the Midlands – but this isn’t a book for cynics.

At the heart of the city lies the Market Place and the street names in the surrounding area reflect this – Cheese Market, Fish Row, Ox Row. At the western end of Butcher Row sits the fifteenth-century Poultry Cross, the last survivor of the city’s four market crosses, and it is here that we find our first spirit.

To the amateur ghost hunter he can be difficult to spot, as he does not walk through walls or float around in historic clothing, and has not lost any body parts. Rather, he stands under the cross in a modern, three-piece grey suit, unassuming and quiet but with a somehow slightly disturbing air of otherworldliness. He then disappears in an instant, but to where? And why from here? Perhaps he is simply waiting for the Haunch of Venison to open.

one

Ales, Wines and Sprits

The Haunted Pubs of Salisbury

The famous Haunch of Venison sits in Minster Street, almost opposite the Poultry Cross. The inn was first built in 1320, apparently to provide lodgings for those employed in adding the spire to the cathedral.

The Haunch of Venison, Salisbury’s most haunted pub and home to the famous mummified hand. (Elliott Tunnard)

Whether you are looking at it from street level or ensconced in one of its odd little rooms, the Haunch feels as if it were haphazardly built on an indeterminate number of levels, with odd passages leading here and there, and it seems to creak – and even sometimes sway – like an old ship. Indeed, some of the building’s oak beams are thought to have been salvaged from sailing vessels.

The odd arrangement of the rooms is attributed to the original use of the building, as the more senior masons and foremen occupied the upper floors, with the lower class of labourer living below. An upper floor retains the name ‘The House Of Lords’ as a result of this tradition.

Tiles in the bar of the inn are said to have once been part of the fabric of the cathedral, and the pewter bar top is thought to be the last surviving complete example of its kind in England. The fireplace of the main dining room bears the date of the Spanish Armada – 1588.

A number of interesting sixteenth- and seventeenth-century artefacts have been discovered when work has been carried out on the building at various times: a Queen Elizabeth silver groat, two playing cards (the queen and ten of clubs), a stoneware wine flagon (bearing a cipher of three hearts), a rodent trap, a shoe showing signs of having been gnawed by a rat, a lady’s shoe and a half-pint pewter pot engraved with the name of a landlady, Louisa Potts. A number of these items were donated to what has become the Salisbury & South Wiltshire Museum.

In the spring of 1944 the Haunch’s smallest bar, to the immediate right of the Minster Street entrance, was used by Winston Churchill and General Dwight Eisenhower during their preparations for the impending invasion of Europe. A rather public place for such a sensitive plan one might have thought – but on the other hand two such large characters armed with sheaves of maps of the Normandy coastline would have left little space in this tiny room for any flapping ears or tongues.

In any case, given the long established extent of military installations around the city, the citizens of Salisbury were perhaps simply used to the sight of top brass and manoeuvres in the area. Roy Nash, an inquisitive Highbury Avenue schoolboy at the time of the D-Day preparations, recalls that all the local playing fields and woods were completely filled with personnel, equipment, machinery and ammunition – but the general populace had no idea of what was about to happen.

Inside the Haunch of Venison, which dates back to 1320. (Timezone Collection)

The mummified hand was found by workmen in 1903 still holding playing cards. (Timezone Collection)

The ghosts that haunt the Haunch are not linked to these historical events. The most celebrated has been dubbed ‘The Demented Whist Player’ although the real name of the individual involved in the story is not recorded. One evening in the 1820s this man arrived in Salisbury, whilst travelling from Southampton to an unknown destination, and sought lodgings at the Haunch of Venison.

The Haunch was renowned as ‘An Old English Chop House’, a title that, in earlier times, had only been given to very high-class eating establishments. What happened there on this particular evening would put a whole new slant on the meaning of ‘chop’. These events were recorded in a ballad entitled ‘The Hand at the Haunch’.

The regular patrons were drinking, talking heartily, playing cards and shove ha’penny but, as the stranger entered the room, the throng fell dead silent, in the best traditions of a true ‘local’. Unmoved, the stranger strode to the bar and ordered a tankard of ale, which he drank straight down. He then tossed a gold coin to the pot boy and ordered more ale for all. This eased the tension and the stranger was invited to join a card game.

After a few rounds of ‘win some and lose some’, the stranger’s luck began to improve and he