It
may be a legend of buried treasure, watched over by a weeping figure,
that wrings its hands; folk may tell of the apparition of an ancient
dame, whose corpse-like features yet show traces of passions unspent; of
solemn, hooded monk, with face concealed by his cowl, who passes down
the castle's winding stair, telling his beads; they whisper, it may be,
of a lady in white raiment, whose silken gown rustles as she walks. Or
the tale, perhaps, is one of pitiful moans that on the still night air
echo through some old building; or of the clank of chains, that comes
ringing from the damp and noisome dungeons, causing the flesh of the
listener to creep.
They are all to be found, or at least they _used_ all to be found,
somewhere or other in the Border, by those who love such legends. And,
perhaps, nowhere are they more common than amongst the crumbling,
grass-grown ruins of Northumberland.
Away, far up the South Tyne, and up its tributary the Tipalt Burn, close
to the boundary of Cumberland, there stands all that is left of an
ancient castle, centuries ago the home of an old and once powerful
family. The building dates probably from early in the fourteenth
century. In the year 1339 "Thomas de Blencansopp" received licence to
fortify his house on the Scottish Border, and it is supposed that he
then built this castle.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25