The blood of many
a Hall was spilt by the men of Percival Reed's clan without giving any
ease to that clamouring ghost. At last they sought the help of a
"skeely" man. He was only a thatcher, but whilst he plied his trade of
covering mortal dwellings with sufficient to withstand the blasts of
heaven, he had also studied deeply matters belonging to another sphere.
"Gifted," says his chronicler, "with words to lay it at rest," he
summoned the ghost to his presence, and "offered it the place and form
it might wish to have."
Five miles of land did that disembodied spirit of the Keeper of
Redesdale choose for his own. As might be guessed, he fixed on the banks
of the Rede, and he chose that part of it that lies between Todlawhaugh
and Pringlehaugh. The fox that barks from the bracken on the hillside at
early morning, the grouse that crows from the heather, the owl that
hoots from the fir woods at night, to those did the ghost of Percival
Reed act as keeper. By day he roosted, like a bat or a night bird, on
some tree in a lonely wood. By night he kept his special part of the
marches. Still the Keeper of Redesdale was Percival Reed. Todlaw Mill,
in ruins long ago, was his favourite haunt, and there, as the decent
folk of the valley went on the Sabbath to the meeting-house at Birdhope
Cragg, they often saw him, a dreary sight for human eyes, patiently
awaiting his freedom.
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