The Legend of the Old Castle of Elland

 

 

 

 

The Old Castle was sited at the south-eastern corner of St. Mary’s graveyard (just behind what was the old Wheatsheaf pub – shown in the photograph) No record remains explaining why it was built. Perhaps it was a monastery or old parsonage? It was certainly the Ring of Bells public house before demolition in 1835. The building was always known as the Old Castle. A large quadrilateral building with pointed gables in the Elizabethan style. A high wooden cross was inlaid in the wall over the northern entrance. The interior boasted ornate plaster-work ceilings and stained glass windows. What a pity that no drawings have survived and that we only have these word of mouth descriptions.

 

The story begins in February 1800. The Old Castle had long since been deserted by its probable ecclesiastical residents. It was now occupied from time to time by very poor folk, who would patch up a suite of rooms until driven out by a severe winter or hopefully their fortunes changed and they could move on to more comfortable surroundings. The weather was harsh. The snow had driven all day and the canal had been frozen up for weeks. Jim Fenton and his family were living (in the old drawing-room) at the Old Castle and Jim’s hauling horse ‘Boxer’ was stabled in the old library. The Fentons had lived on short rations for over a week and Boxer had eaten his bedding. This cruel evening the children, their bellies aching with hunger, had been sent to bed early. Jim was smoking brown paper because his tobacco supply was exhausted. The paper fair made his pipe fizz. The wind howled at the windows and then Boxer began a stamping fit. It was such a commotion that the Fentons feared that the horse would knock down the old castle. Jim could stand it no longer. He donned his sou’wester and ventured out into the blizzard. He knew that there was hay aplenty at Farrar’s stack-yard (Old Bailey) and they wouldn’t notice a missing bale. Jim reached The Wheatsheaf when he noticed a giant moving heavily but swiftly across the bottom of the church-yard. This Boggart was neither white nor black like other boggarts but a yellowish colour, which contrasted against the snow. Petrified with fear Jim could not run away. He slunk down the warehouse steps by The Wheatsheaf. The Boggart rested nearby and then skipped away towards South End. To Jim’s amazement the creature was now half the size and as he turned home he noticed that the Boggart had left behind a sack of flour and oats. Seizing his opportunity Jim grabbed the sack and sprinted back to the old castle. The family lived on porridge for the next two weeks until the weather broke and Jim and Boxer returned to working on the canal. Jim thanked Boxer’s ‘animal magnetism’ for his good fortune.

 

True or not the story suggests that not all encounters with boggarts are bad. Just hope for better weather this February!

 

David J. Glanfield

Greater Elland Historical Society www.gehs.org.uk