The Tower

In my quest to search the historical archives to find first hand accounts of experiences with supernatural entities, I found this very old account from England in the 1300s in the small town of Elmshire. 

This was more difficult to read then the previous two stories, as it was written in Middle English so I had to translate a good amount of this one into the modern vernacular. In some cases, the manuscript was so damaged that I had to make note of this in the story itself. 

This account was written by the town Constable, Gilbert Thatcher. Gilbert appears to have taken his job seriously and recorded much of his law enforcement actions in Elmshire. The majority of his archive is very mundane, involving arresting of drunks, his night watch duties followed by ringing bell. 

Elmshire was a small town with nothing particular interesting about it except that it once had a large Cathedral very near to the top of a hill. The cathedral was burned down nearly a hundred years before Gilbert's account. There isn’t much information about the fire but Gilbert’s account mentions local folklore that state that it was burned down by the devil himself.

The only part of the cathedral that remained was one of its large towers. By the reign of Edward III (when Gilbert was writing) the tower loomed over Elmshire, easily the tallest building. A ruined Norman castle existed on the other side of town near the road leading into Elmshire. Gilbert used one of the rooms in the ruin as a jail. 

The local church was the only other building in town of note. Like all of medieval Europe it was the center of the community. Gilbert would climb its significantly smaller tower often throughout the story and other times to ring the bell to signal the time. 

I am unsure who Gilbert was writing this for. Part of it this seems to be a personal journal while other entries seem to be documenting his official duties. Part of his writings address the Sheriff of Yorkshire (the county where Elmshire sat). 

The entries begin with a collection of several of paragraphs I collected all referencing the tower. The entries I shared are in chronological order but there are many mundane entries between that I have cut out for the sake of keeping the story focused on Gilbert’s strange encounters and so that the story flows narratively without random interludes about Gibert’s daily duties. 

For the fourth night in a row I walked past the shadow of the old cathedral tower. I must admit I couldn’t help but think of the old lore of the Devil destroying the church, this lore especially came to mind as I saw a light appear in the pointed windows of the highest tower. The lower doors to the tower have been closed and locked for years, so I know not how anyone would be able to enter.

The last two nights as I rang the church bell to signal midnight the tower was dark as it should have been, however last night the light had returned! It was very bright, so much so that John, the blacksmith, even mentioned it the next day. As the constable it is my duty to investigate.

I walked around the base of the tower but again, other than the two main doors, which are shut and barred, there was no other way in. I asked the priest about who had the key to the doors. He knew not who had the keys or when it was locked since it was nearly a century ago.

Gilbert seems to have been preoccupied as he did not write about this again for at least a few months. In fact he seemed to have been preoccupied with another matter that was also of interest to me. He apparently arrested a man named Giles who was the village wizard (called Cunning folk) who was apparently used magic to help people find lost things. This is a rare instance of a cunning folk (and a man) being accused of sorcery, especially in the 14th century. This was much more common later in the 16th and 17th centuries, but extremely rare at this time. 

Luckily, Giles’ sentence was very short, he was only locked in the castle jail for a few nights. The most interesting thing about Giles’ arrest was Gilbert mentioned that Giles used fairies to help him tell the future and find lost things. This will be important later in Gilbert’s story. 

The locksmith helped me try and open the door to the tower after another night of phantom lights appearing in the tower. He could not even find a lock on the door! I will have to ask the sheriff for help with the door as they are thick and cannot be opened without much force.

Something else has been troubling several of the villagers a blazing star appeared above the sky and lit the whole town in the dead of night. This along with the red lights in the tower have been taken as ill omens, signs of the devil. What is in this tower?

Several entries past before the next important event. In the Middle Ages comets were often seen as omens of ill or good fortune. 

I have heard reports of late of another strange light coming from the ruins of the gaol in the old castle, as well as reports of will-o-the-wisps in the nearby forest and of course the tower itself. I went to consult Giles, the village wizard, but he was still too upset about our former dealings to speak to me. There have always been reports of lights in the forest but mixed with the comet and the tower, people are now afraid. I wonder if Giles himself is not behind all this, being learned in the way of magic.

It is interesting to note that even after arresting the cunning folk Giles for sorcery just a few weeks prior, Gilbert then returns to him and asks him to read the supernatural signs appearing in the village. Giles (rightly so) is annoyed at this. 

Last night a little boy went into the forest looking for a lost cow on his family farm and did not return. Several of the villagers and myself went in the forest looking. Our numbers, I must admit, were much lower than expected, probably due to the dark omens.

A serf named William Powell claimed he saw a whole host of fairies marching in the forest. They carried the king of the fairies on a large litter with fairies marking with large banners and armor. William called out for others to come see but none answered. He found this odd since he was very close to his brothers earlier. Now he seemed to be in a different world. The fairy procession marched into a bright light, something of a portal at the end of the road. William swears we saw the lost boy, sitting upon the litter with the fairy king. He called out but he was deaf. He found his body did not move like it once did, that he moved like he was in molasses. The procession of fairies had entered the portal of light with the child before he could get to them.

The portal disappeared with a blinding flash and William was back in the forest, now alone.

The village is in mourning that the child is now lost to the fair folk and will probably never be seen again.

Two days later. 

The sound of God emanated from the tower with evening after mass. First no one knew where the sound had come from but when they left the church they saw that the tower was glowing a bright red, and pulsated with each noise. It sounded like Gabriel’s horn being blown and many of the congregation thought this was the end times and ran back into the church to continue to pray.

After five loud blasts of the horn and pulsations of light the tower was silent. The light was gone and all was quiet.

The priest gave an additional sermon to try and comfort his flock. Others believed it was not the apocalypse but the devil in the tower. Before long it was decided that we would once again try to enter the tower the next morning.

The next morning myself and several strong men climbed the hill to the tower. The ruins of the rest of the church are still up there but scattered and overgrown after a century of neglect.

Some men brought ladders and climbed the largest most stable ruin to try and reach the lowest windows of the tower, but it was no use. The lowest windows of the tower were still nearly forty feet from the tip of the ladder. And even these windows were exceedingly small and may not have been able to fit an adult.

A brave child was brought from the village to try and see if he could climb in, but even with the tallest ladder it was no use. Defeated, all we could do was have the priest bless the ground of the tower, to try and cast out the evil that lay about the tower and the lands.

I asked around for more details about the tower, some of the older men and woman in the community were able to remember stories of the old Cathedral from their parents. The cathedral was of grand design with pillars reaching up to the heavens. But even in its hay day, no one could remember going into the tower itself. It was reserved for the Bishop. The Bishop himself seemed to be a somewhat mysterious person as he was from York and no one knew him prior to the building of the Cathedral.

Next, I questioned the priests for more information about the Cathedral and the Bishop who once preached there. It was odd to me as well that such a large Cathedral be built in Elmshire as it is very rural and far from major towns.

The Priest, though thinking gossiping was a sin, relayed that he overheard several dark things about the Bishop who ran the cathedral. How he often vanished quickly after a service or how strange of a man he was. I asked how and apparently many in his flock found him off putting, and short with people.

The Priest said there were many complaints recorded in their archives of how odd his sermons were. He spoke of the coming apocalypse often, not merely reading from Revelations but he went into great detail of how it would come, which direction the demons and monsters of the end times would descend and how they would attack Elmshire itself! He is on record of even saying the tower is the only safe place from them.

A large section of the manuscript was damaged and from what little I could make out, it seems that Gilbert was traveling or on a pilgrimage? Some words like ‘Demonic’ and ‘That evil tower” I can make out but the rest is very garbled and damaged by what looks like fire. That any of these accounts survives at all I guess is lucky for us. 

I am still trying to find more records of not only Gilbert but of Elmshire itself. It doesn’t really appear that the town still exists, though a small town in north England called Elms might be the same town? 

I know what you’re thinking, all this for these tiny threads of a story? 

But there was too much here to investigate, the tower, the strange lights and sounds, the account of fairy procession in the woods! This small account was like a gold mind of paranormal events all happening in one small village in England at the same time. 

So I threw caution to the wind and last week I flew to England! It wasn’t just this account that brought me to England. I also believe I may be able to find more information in local archives about the HMS Hector and its captain. There are also unanswered questions I have about Malcom Watson and his brother that I may be able to find up in Scotland. Not to mention other stories of the supernatural. 

I also have an uncle who lives in Wales who may be able to help me in these endeavors. I have not yet told him about my employer, but it is of little importance at this stage. 

Will keep you updated.