Like many of the Wiltshire locations I cover, the small village of Kilmington in southwest Wiltshire, has history dating back to the prehistoric period. We are spoilt for choice with Neolithic and Iron Age sites in Wiltshire so there has be ‘a little something extra’ for a location to make it onto Weird Wiltshire. Kilmington has not disappointed! Let’s cover the briefest lowdown of its history before we get to the juicy stuff.
Nearby, on White Sheet Downs, you’ll find a Neolithic causewayed camp. Crossing the parish boundary is a large Iron Age hillfort called White Sheet Camp or White Sheet Castle, which incorporates two bowl barrows. The village of Kilmington itself sits on the edge of what was once the ancient hunting forest of Selwood.
This quiet little corner of the county is right on the Somerset borders. In fact, until 1898 it was actually part of Somerset, one of the ancient Anglo-Saxon estates, known as the Norton Ferris Hundred.
These were essentially areas divided into estates, each with their own defence force and court, responsible for collecting taxes from the local population. Along come the county courts in 1867 and the introduction of districts by the Local Government Act 1894. Although The Hundreds (and we aren’t talking about cricket here) were never formally abolished, they are now redundant. It was at this point that Kilmington became part of Wiltshire.
Dead Woman’s Corner
I mentioned earlier, not every location in Wiltshire will end up featured here on Weird Wiltshire. There has to be something, no matter how small, that piques my interest before I start digging into its history. To be fair, I can usually find something interesting about most places. Sometimes my blogs are preplanned after I pick a random location and start researching. Other times the blog is built around something I have come across by accident. That was the case with this blog.
Intriguing place names (and by coincidence all begin with an ‘S’):
- Shady Hanging
- Sunny Hanging
- Shavemead
- Six Wells Bottom
I was poring over an OS Map, actually looking at bridleways around the Stourhead estate. It was then that my weird-attracted eye pivoted towards a few intriguing place names; the most mysterious being that of Dead Woman’s Corner.
Now, what has happened there then? My curiosity got the better of me and I spent my Friday evening trying to find out why Dead Woman’s Corner is called so. Having found very little, I fired off some emails to the Wiltshire and Swindon History Centre (WSHC) and Kilmington’s Parish Council.
It turns out, this little mystery intrigued the parish councillors. I was kindly sent their replies from Ruth, the very helpful parish clerk. Combined with a response from the WSHC, I am a little closer to the truth.
It’s inevitable that, as you go looking for one thing, you come across others and this is how my blogs develop. Whilst looking for the history behind Dead Woman’s Corner, I came across a story of treachery, skullduggery and murder in Tudor England. You’ll be pleased to hear, there is an associated ghost story.
The Hartgill Murders
The tale is one of a very serious Tudor beef between Charles Stourton, 8th Baron of Stourton and his arch-enemy William Hartgill. It all ramped up after Lord William Stourton, (the seventh Lord Stourton,1505–1548. and Charles’ father) died. He left his estate to his mistress Agnes Rhys as he had previously disinherited his wayward son. What Charles had done to warrant this shame I don’t know but it sounds like he was a thoroughly horrible man. Charles wasn’t to be put off by this disinheritance and after chucking poor Agnes out of the manor house Charles seized possession of Kilmington Manor and its land.
You don’t get to go around being a complete ****** to people without making a few enemies and Charles’ biggest nemesis was William Hartgill, another nasty piece of work. Back when Lord William Stourton was still alive, Hartgill was a major tenant farmer of Shaftesbury Abbey and later became the Lord’s steward. Eventually Hartgill gained even more power and also became an MP.
But Hartgill was a thief and a rogue. He and his sons harboured outlaws, stole livestock and took shares of the robbery proceeds carried out by other wronguns in some Tudor-times Mafia-style extortion racket. They had knife fights and hunted in the royal forest, taking deer. William Hartgill boasted he had poached a cartload of boar in a year from Lord Stourton’s estate.
Lord Stourton protected the Hartgills at first, but he began to suspect he was being defrauded with his servants infiltrated by Hartgills own staff, presumably with some sort of dastardly plan afoot.
By the times Charles was in charge in the 1550s there was already a lot of bad blood. Charles was hauled before the courts because he would not accept tenant land arrangements made between Hargill and his father. He suspected Hartgill had obtained the tenancies by fraud and threw everything he could at him via the Tudor court system.
There were all sorts of claims and counterclaims over damaged or removed crops and pasture rights. Stourton’s men took away stock and in some cases resentful tenants injured animals they regarded as trespassing. Many accusations were made of assault and riot, disputes over hedging, ditching, gates and of preventing rights of ways over land. It was quite the feud.
Eventually the Star Chamber (part of the Tudor court system) had enough of the nonsense between the two waring enemies. Their intervention caused Stourton to be heavily fined and pay damages of £400 (a serious amount of money back then). Humiliated, Charles withdrew before deciding to end this situation once and for all. He lured his enemy William and his oldest son John to Kilmington Church on the pretext of paying them their fine money. With 15 servants and 60 local gentry, Charles surrounded the church. He arrested William on a spurious charge of felony and seriously assaulted John Hartgill’s wife before locking them up in the church tower.
On the 12th January at 11pm the bound prisoners were dragged two miles away to Stourton’s manor house (which was destroyed in 1720 to make way for the magnificent Palladian manor of Stourhead House). There he instructed his chosen servants to brutally beat them with clubs. Still alive Stourton ordered their throats were cut as he stood by, ‘a candel in his hande.’
Charles tried to conceal the murders by burying the bodies in the cellar but it seems one of his not-so-faithful servants dobbed him in. Four of the hit men were arrested and tried. They were hung in Kilmington.
Charles was hauled to the Tower of London and was asked where the Hartgills had gone. He lamely replied that he had committed them to the constable and if they were missing they must have escaped. The evidence against Charles was too great and he was found to be guilty. After refusing to plead he soon changed his mind. The court threatened him with the most heinous death; forte et dure, where you are loaded with weights until you either die or put in your plea. This was the standard penalty for such refusers.
On the 6th March 1557, he was taken to Salisbury and executed in the marketplace. Apparently Queen Mary had been informed of his fate and sent a reprieve by messenger. Lord Pembroke, another of Charles’s enemies, purposely delayed the messenger at Wilton and so sealed the fate of the horrible Charles.
Because Charles was a peer, he was hung with a silk rope, as was his privilege. He was the second peer to ever have been executed. Following his death he was buried in Salisbury Cathedral, strangely it seems he was deemed worthy to share a tomb with Saint Osmund. The silk noose was suspended above their grave as a reminder.
For 200 years it hung in the cathedral. The dean of the time decided it was all in bad taste and removed it. But it is said to sometimes reappear, a luminous outline still seen on occasion, within living memory, and by ‘impeachable witnesses’.
St Mary’s Church, Kilmingon
Let’s head back to St Mary’s Church, where the Hartgills were captured.The church, dedicated to St. Mary the Virgin, dates back to 1338, with significant rebuilding in 1867. It is now a Grade II* listed building.
I headed there today to take some photos but I kept an eye out for shadowy figures in the churchyard. I wasn’t expecting to see much, it being a hot August bank holiday afternoon. Not the sort of day that lends itself to ghostly sightings. That being said, if you find yourself there on a dark and dismal autumn evening, keep a look out for a few shady (literally) figures in the churchyard. Seen solemnly strolling around, deep in conversation, two of resident phantoms are said to be the Hartgills. Another figure has been spotted armed with a sword and gun with another who hides among the trees and bushes, not clearly seen.
Back to Dead Woman’s Corner
When I headed back to Dead Woman’s Corner, I did wonder if it could be in anyway connected to the events of the Hartgill murders. Although the records state that John Hartgill’s wife was stabbed at St Mary’s Church and was badly injured she didn’t appear to die then and there. There is always a chance she did pass away from her injuries though and may have ended up being buried at the crossroads. I agree it is a tentative link but hear me out. Charles was a despicable man as we know. Perhaps, following the murders, John’s wife died. Out of shear bloodymindedness he may have instructed his servants to bury her at the crossroads as it was seen as a place to bury those who didn’t deserve to be on consecrated ground.
England had a tradition of burying murderers and suicides on parish boundaries or public highways, often at crossings. We used to view both types of death as equally sinful and burying them on consecrated land was somewhat of a punishment. Sometimes stakes were put through the heart. It was hoped that by burying the sinner at a crossroads, their spirit would be confused and it would stop them returning to the village.
Finally in 1823, that law was changed so that people who took their own lives could be buried on consecrated ground. It took another 140 years (until 1961) before suicide was no longer deemed illegal.
We’ve heard about burials at crossroads before, but it was sometime back. I went searching for Kitt’s Grave. If you want to hear about that tale, you can read it here.
Of course, Dead Woman’s Corner might not refer to murder or suicide at all. Maybe a woman was found there, her life blood simply gone? It seems this may well be the case if we are to rely on local oral history. A couple of the councillors of Kilmington shared the memory of a dead body being found on (or perhaps near) the site. One of them remembers a rumour that, on the anniversary of this poor lady’s demise, her ghost rides past without her head, on a horse and cart. That was probably one of those old tales, told by the fire of a evening, invented to give the village kids a scare!
It’s one of those Wiltshire mysteries we will probably never get to the bottom of. If only someone had thought to write it down but I guess most folks had better things to worry about than putting quill to paper, if indeed they could write.
I do need to take a trip to the Wiltshire and Swindon History Centre soon though and I know they have some stuff for me to read through. Maybe I’ll be able to update again soon.
This whole story has made me wonder; how many souls lay in their unknown graves, never to be discovered? And what were their stories? Given the extensive, turbulent history of our islands, I wouldn’t even dare to take a guess. I hope whoever, if indeed anyone, is buried at Dead Woman’s Corner, they are at least now at peace.
The Red Lion
On the way home I decided to drop off at the local pub, The Red Lion. It is a casualty of lockdown, closing in 2022. It’s a sad fact that many of our pubs are permanently closing. Rising business costs, plummeting customers and a change in the way we socialise are all reasons that village pubs, for centuries the hub of the community, are no longer viable.
It seems The Red Lion hasn’t given up all hope yet. There are signs outside displaying the agents looking to let the pub out. It needs a fair bit of work though; the building is looking like it needs a bit of love. I doubt it will ever reopen as a pub so I went to have a nose about before it gets sold off as yet another second home for wealthy Londoners.
I couldn’t see much of the inside, despite my best nosy efforts, but if you want a peek you can see more in the agents brochure here.
Sadly, there don’t appear to be any ghostly tales associated with this particular pub. Well, not anything I could find anyway, but you never know!
Trees of the future
Whilst there were no spooky stories from The Red Lion what I did find was rather nifty. Outside the pub on the road was a hazelnut tree and crab apple tree. I’m not sure if you know but I am a big fan of trees (and a shameless tree hugger)! I just love them. It saddens me to see trees cut down and infuriates me that many people in the village I live in insist on cutting them down because they aren’t convenient for them. Nothing enrages me more than the sound of yet another chainsaw starting up.
In my own little way, I am trying to counteract this destruction. I have taken up ‘tree growing’. Each year, around this time, I collect beech nuts, acorns, conkers and sweet chestnuts, sometimes walnuts and hazelnuts or fir pines. I stick them in pots and see what comes up in the spring. So far, I have grown around 150 trees, with some contributed by my mum and dad from their garden. I grow them on a bit and they go off to a local farm where the lovely farmer, who is really keen on ecology, is planting up all his field borders with trees and traditional hedgerows. I am more than happy to help him.
The treasures I have collected today will be duly planted out and cared for through the winter months and depending on how fast they grow, they’ll head off to the farm in a couple of years.
After visiting The Red Lion I took the long route home avoiding the dreaded A303 on a bank holiday. As a local let me give you some excellent advice. Avoid that road as much as you can. It is just a big, fat traffic jam and you can be stuck in queues any time of the day.
That was the end of my time in Kilmington for now. It’s a really nice little place; quiet, peaceful, rural. But, as you have heard today, it’s obviously had it’s more dramatic moments. Let’s hope those days are over. Until the next time, adieu!
References
More Ghosts and Legends of the Wiltshire Countryside – Kathleen Wiltshire
Paranormal Wiltshire – Selena Wright
Exploring Historic Wiltshire – Ken Watts
Moonrakings – A Little Book of Wiltshire Stories – Edith Oliver
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kilmington,_Wiltshire
https://kilmingtonwiltshire.org/
https://www.history.ac.uk/e extension://efaidnbmnnnibpcajpcglclefindmkaj/https://www.history.ac.uk/sites/default/files/KILMINGTON_Draft_July_2019.pdf
https://wiltshirewalks.com/kilmington/
https://historyofparliament.com/2022/01/27/charles-lord-stourton-murder-of-the-hartgills/
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