Bank of stories: The Barnard Castle street swirling with grisly tales

There are secret tunnels and half-seen ghosts; there are lots of rumours and at least one double murder...

BROADGATES

THE Bank has a medieval lay-out. The houses face onto the street and have long, narrow plots of land behind them and alleyways running down the side.

Broadgates is one of those alleys, and it was once an important thoroughfare, leading from the Demesnes, the open land by the riverside. A demesne, or domain (the words are pronounced the same) referred to land belonging to the lord of the manor. In Barney, cattle were grazed on the Demesnes and driven to the castle along Broadgates.

BLAGRAVES

NEXT to Broadgates is the fabulous property which featured in last week’s Eating Out as it has recently reopened as a brilliantly bonkers restaurant and interiors shop. It is, according to Historic England, “an important building in an important street”.

An Edwardian postcard of Blagraves showing Broadgates on the left, the four storey 17th Century bay window, and the front of the house which has not yet been adorned by the stone minstrels

It was in existence on September 9, 1484, when Richard III, the lord of the manor of Barnard Castle, granted it to Joan Forest, the widow of Miles. Miles had been the Keeper of the King’s Wardrobe. Perhaps Richard gave Joan the house as a way of thanking the widow of a loyal servant.

Alternatively, some sources suggest that Miles had also been in charge of the princes in the Tower of London – the young boys who threatened Richard's claim to the crown. Those sources say that, at Richard’s request, Miles had smothered the princes and then disposed of their bodies, making him responsible for two of the greatest unsolved murders in British history.

Perhaps Richard gave his widow the house in what was Barney’s most exclusive street as a thank-you.

The property became a public house, possibly called The Boar’s Head after Richard’s symbol which is dotted all over the town. The pub's brewery was in its vaulted cellar which has a well 36ft deep, providing cool, clean water ideal for making beer. The cellar also has secret tunnels which apparently run to Eggleston Abbey and the castle.

A 1920s postcard of Blagraves when it has been transformed into a "museum of mystery" with the five stone minstrels added mysteriously to the front

On October 24, 1648, Oliver Cromwell was in the north mopping up royalist resistance, travelling from Newcastle to Richmond. He broke the night at Barney and while his soldiers camped on the Demesnes, he adjourned to the pub where he was treated to burnt wine (probably mulled wine) and oat cakes. He held a council before retiring to bed on the second floor.

His bedroom is said to be haunted by “a dozen bone thin” ghosts, although why they come to be there is unknown.

A third notable date in the property's history is to be found in the plaster on the first floor ceiling: “1672, WI B”. The B is for Blagraves, the family which owned the building, and 1672 is perhaps the date when W and I (which is probably for Joseph) were married.

It may have been Joseph and W who added the four storey bay windows on the front of the house, giving it such a Gothic feel.

The plasterwork in the ceiling at Blagraves dated 1672

And a fourth date in the history is to be found in the diary of Christopher Sanderson, of Eggleston, who notes that the accession of James II was proclaimed in Barney on February 18, 1685, and at Blagraves “several gentlemen had a dinner and spent about 20 pounds; had two trumpeters with silver trumpets and four drums; cost me 23 shillings”. That is an expensive feast – their £20 is the equivalent today of £3,400, according to the Bank of England Inflation Calculator.

For the next 250 years, Blagraves was a relatively quiet pub and residence until after the First World War when Victor M Walton turned it into a “House of Mystery” – a museum that featured instruments of torture, suits of armour and a strange statue of William Shakespeare as a boy.

The Blagraves' museum's statue of William Shakespeare as a boy

To advertise the mystique of his museum, Mr Walton added five stone carvings of minstrels to the outside (four survive) and he hung a suit of armour from the second floor.

The museum didn’t last long, and for much of the 20th Century, Blagraves was a restaurant, as it is once again.

The cellars, or dungeon, at Blagraves was once a brewery and was where the instruments of torture were exhibted during its time as a museum. There are secret tunnels down here, too

THE BUCKET OF BLOOD

NEXT door to Blagraves is an impressive house with “1742 RD” over its front door. It was run as a public house, known as the Hat and Feathers, the Turk’s Head and finally the Shoulder of Mutton, until 1955.

Locals, though, knew it as “the bucket of blood” because one day, the landlord dropped a bucket into his well expecting to draw up some fresh water. Instead, a bucket of blood came up.

Investigation revealed that a tipsy regular had toppled into the well and drowned.

The property, No 34, is said to be haunted – perhaps by a chap who fell down a well.

THE STEWARD’S HOUSE

AT the foot of the The Bank is “the Ancient Manor House”, which is also known as “the Steward’s House” although previous generations knew it as the Punchbowl Inn.

The Steward's House on the right at the bottom of The Bank is reputedly haunted by the ghost of Lady Shuttleworth who murdered her husband and the maid he was having an affair with. Picture: Google StreetView

When the lord of the manor was the monarch, a steward looked after the town and the castle on their behalf – the house is ideally placed to keep an eye on the Demesnes as well.

Foundations of the house are believed to date back to the 11th Century, although the current building is a 17th Century rebuild. On its first floor is a Tudor fireplace with the inscription: “MS.AS.ANO.DM.1621”. This refers to a couple, MS and AS, who were married in AD1621 – it is presumed that they were members of the Shuttleworth family who for many years acted as stewards.

In the 1550s, Sir James Shuttleworth was the steward although his wife, Lady Shuttleworth, suspected he was spending more time pursuing extra-marital affairs than on his royal duties.

So she poisoned the maid he was seeing.

When Sir James discovered the awful truth and confronted her, she poisoned him as well.

For her crimes, Lady Shuttleworth was hanged, although her ghost still haunts the scene of her double murder at the foot of The Bank.