Haunted Isles -in the company of spirits

In 1249 Isabel, Countess of Arundel founded the Cistercian Marham Abbey, it was dedicated to St Mary, St Barbara and St Edmund and was home to between 10 and 15 nuns. Unfortunately in later years the abbess, Sister Barbara behaviour  was far from saintly!  Sister Barbara was in league with a band of robbers who attacked travellers on nearby Vinegar Hill, the main route from Swaffham to Kings Lynn. The robbers not only stole from unwary travellers but aso made sure to leave them unconscious so that they could be "rescued" by the nuns at Marham Abbey. Of course the travellers, and their families, were grateful to be rescued and cared for and they showed their gratitude by giving gifts to the Abbey which became very prosperous. As Marham Abbey continued to prosper the monks at nearby Pentney became suspicious of how this wealth was being achieved, they began to spy on Marham Abbey and on Sister Barbara in particular. It was only a matter of time before she was seen payi

Located east of Horley off Haroldsea Drive is the 12th century  double moated site of Thunderfield Castle. A scheduled Ancient Monument Thunderfield Castle was said to have been a resting place for Harold's army as he marched towards battle at Hastings in 1066. At sunset on 11th November a ghostly bell can be heard to toll, gradually getting louder and louder until midnight when a small ghostly army marches through the area. Is this the Saxon army marching to their doom at Hastings? Well the Battle of Hastings took place on 14th October so if this recurring haunting is taking place on the anniversary of an event it cannot be Harold and his men as they were long dead by 11th November. Is it merely coincidence that the bell is heard to toll on Armistice day? You may also be interested in other November hauntings: Sister Barbara, the Ghost of Marham Abbey, Vinegar Hill, Marham, Norfolk.

Thy soul shall find itself alone ‘Mid dark thoughts of the grey tomb-stone; Not one, of all the crowd, to pry Into thine hour of secrecy. Be silent in that solitude, Which is not loneliness — for then The spirits of the dead, who stood In life before thee, are again In death around thee, and their will Shall overshadow thee; be still. The night, though clear, shall frown, And the stars shall not look down From their high thrones in the Heaven With light like hope to mortals given, But their red orbs, without beam, To thy weariness shall seem As a burning and a fever Which would cling to thee for ever. Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish, Now are visions ne’er to vanish; From thy spirit shall they pass No more, like dew-drop from the grass. The breeze, the breath of God, is still, And the mist upon the hill Shadowy, shadowy, yet unbroken, Is a symbol and a token. How it hangs upon the trees, A mystery of mysteries!