Our castle iz better than your castle…
Most
people in Wakefield know about Sandal Castle. You can see it from many points
around the city, so it would be hard to ignore it completely. However, few, I’d
venture, know that at one time Wakefield had a second castle. One might think
this was overkill for a town so far from the coast (and Scotland and Wales for
that matter), but there was a strategy to the thinking of the Normans who built
both of them.
Wakefield
sat on the banks of the River Calder which, utilising the Aire and Ouse, could
give access all the way to the sea. It was also near to a major road that
crossed the river, the R1 (Roman 1, a precursor of the A1 and M1), which ran
north and south. The town was therefore seen as being a strategic place in the
north of England.
Basically,
when asked how you would sell Wakefield to local businesses, the schoolchildren
of the 12th century were writing their geography projects in exactly
the same manner as I was 800 years later: ‘Wakefield has excellent
communication routes’, except I wrote about the East Coast mainline railway,
the M1 and M62, not the River Calder and an ancient Roman road. Plus, of
course, there were no schoolchildren in the 12th century.
 |
| The view across towards Sandal Castle |
So for a time Wakefield had two castles, one on each side of the river. The location for Lowe Hill (sometimes known as Lawe Hill) is the edge of Clarence Park, at its highest point. If you’ve ever gone sledging with the kids down what is known as Cannonball Hill* towards the bandstand, which is also the part of the park used for the Clarence Park music festival, you’ve been close. That was where I was headed now with the wife and Ellie the dog.
Carrying on beyond the top of the hill, we reach a clearing belonging to even higher ground. This, I believe, is where the top of the castle is thought to have resided. The views are far-reaching if you peek through the trees, but there’s not much to see with regards to the site other than park, so imagination is required.
I take a few pictures, then gaze around, wondering what someone garrisoned here might have seen all those years ago. You can observe Sandal Castle through the trees on the other side of the river. I wonder if soldiers in the two castles worked together, if they communicated somehow. Did they send ravens to each other, Game of Thrones style, or produce smoke signals?
 |
| Raised ground and trees are all that's left |
Maybe
they used fire beacons. I read one source that suggested a beacon got lit on
the high ground I’m standing on now in the park to warn everyone that the
Armada had been spotted off the coast of Cornwall. The populace as one cried,
‘Cheers for that information. What do you want us to do about it? Fly down to
Newquay airport and help out?’
I
suppose it would have given people the time to hide what gold and daughters they
may have had before the Spanish sailors made it to Yorkshire in an Elizabethan
jiffy i.e. around two months. (Incidentally, Lowe Hill Castle was long gone by
the time of the Armada; high ground was all that remained on this site, but
maybe it was still remembered as a position of importance.)
My
imaginings take a left turn at this point. This was, of course, a time when the
Normans ruled Britain. What if communication between the two castles was more like
the start of Monty Python and the Holy Grail when King Arthur finds that the
castle he has sought has been taken over by rude French soldiers? Let’s bring this bit of history to life:
January
1171. It is a bitterly cold winter. Supply routes are being strangled by a
thick blanket of snow that has been thrown over the north and soldiers in Lowe
Hill Castle are running dangerously low on provisions. ’Gainst all expectation,
Sandal Castle has recently been restocked with supplies from York and the
hungry soldiers of Lowe Hill have heard news of this drifting across the river
on the icy wind. Twenty boars say some reports. Forty crates of potatoes.
Deerskins to keep out the fierce numbing temperatures.
They
have no choice. A small company of men must abandon their posts and go forth to
Sandal and beg their brothers for a portion of the spoils, otherwise they will
soon be rotting in the ground.
Five
men exit the castle and scramble down the steep hill, their feet sodden due to
the water from melted snow that has inveigled its way into their boots. They
row across the misty Calder in their tiny boat, their breath freezing as soon
as it leaves their mouths. Their hands are like claws as they prise their
frozen fingers off the wooden oars at the other side. Weary and cold to the
bone, they hike up the ice-bound slopes on the far bank, falling to the glacial
ground several times as they struggle for purchase. Finally, they reach their
sister castle at Sandal, and stand at the foot of the walls, staring skywards.
‘Lo, fellow guards of the Wakefield Watch, we are tired, cold and hungry and our food is running perilously low. Could you please spare a small portion of your bounty for men who shall surely starve in this bleakest of winters, but for your sweet charity.’
A pause.
‘Lo, fellow guards of the Wakefield Watch, we are tired, cold and hungry and our food is running perilously low. Could you please spare a small portion of your bounty for men who shall surely starve in this bleakest of winters, but for your sweet charity.’
A pause.
Another
pause and the soldiers of Lowe Hill wonder if they are talking not to men, but
to walls. Finally, a soldier appears, looking down at them with what they hope
are benevolent eyes.
‘Pah!
You Eenglish puffs! I vud spank your li’l bottombs iv I deedn’t think vu wud
enjoy it!’
This
was only a hundred years after the Normans had invaded Britain remember.
Although French was now the country’s official language and would be for at
least another hundred years, English spoken with a comedy French accent was the
language of choice when you wanted to humiliate someone.
‘I
beg your pardon?’ said the English soldiers.
‘What
do vu want viv our deelicious fud? For your Eenglish cuisine? Pah! There is no
such thing! Now go away, before ve peese on ze ‘eads.’
‘Please! We shall perish!’
‘Non. Sling zee uk! Anyhoo, our castle iz much better than that piece of sheet you call un castle over zare.’
‘Please! We shall perish!’
‘Non. Sling zee uk! Anyhoo, our castle iz much better than that piece of sheet you call un castle over zare.’
[Monty Python documentary on what really happened - link to clip]
Actually, in 1261 the castles would probably have been very similar. Let’s ditch this nonsense and give you some proper history.
When the Normans (who were really Vikings that lived in France and not properly French at all) came over in 1066, they liked putting up castles. It was their thing and they suddenly appeared all over the place, like pop-up restaurants in hipster areas today.
Motte
and bailey was their preferred method of construction because it was quick and
easy. There are records of over 600 of the things springing up across the
nation between the 11th and 13th centuries. Essentially,
it was an earthwork with a wooden top. A ditch was dug about forty feet wide
and six deep and the earth removed was piled up to create a mound or motte
about forty feet high and fifty in diameter. A timber tower was then
constructed on top of the motte, usually with a big fence around it. Down
below, was the area known as the bailey. This would be surrounded by a wooden palisade,
with the ditch on the other side.
The
first surviving record of the one at Lowe Hill dates from 1170. Whether it was
built shortly before or shortly after Sandal Castle was put up, we don’t know,
but their position either side of the river would suggest that they were used
in conjunction for a time. However, at some point, Sandal Castle was rebuilt in
stone while Lowe Hill wasn’t. So in a way those rude French soldiers at Sandal
Castle spoke the truth, in that eventually Sandal Castle was better than Lowe
Hill.
The
final mention of Lowe Hill Castle as a functioning structure is in a Royal
Charter from 1324 when it’s referenced alongside Sandal Castle. Sometime in the
14th century it was abandoned, possibly destroyed by a great storm
that hit Wakefield in 1330 and caused mayhem (they were underprepared after one
of Michael Fish’s ancestors assured everyone to expect no more than a stiff
breeze). It seems likely that all along it was an adulterine castle, meaning it
hadn’t got the necessary planning permission. When the king asked who’d plonked
a castle on this hill, everyone shrugged, whistled and pretended they had no
idea. It’s chances of being re-built in stone were, therefore, always slim.
Contemplating
these dates and the demise of Lowe Hill Castle makes me think of the beginning
of Chantry Chapel around the same time. People knew first hand of both within
their lifetime if they were born at the right time and I find that strangely
satisfying. The original foundations of the chapel from the 1340s are submerged
beneath the Calder while the remains of the castle, from which Norman soldiers stood
watch over the Calder, are buried beneath the ground.
There
was a small scale excavation of those remains back in 1953 but it didn’t
unearth much other than a small amount of 12th century pottery and
metalwork. Now, there have been calls for a more thorough exploration using
modern equipment and techniques. There is a surprisingly well-produced video
all about the project on the Friends of Chat Parks’ website [http://www.chatparks.org.uk/projects/projects-2/107-the-lowe-hill-castle-project-2].
I hope it gets the go ahead and they find some interesting stuff.
The
three of us now head away from Clarence Park, down the slope on the other side
towards Thornes Park. We pass what could be even higher ground as we go. Maybe
this was part of the castle too, or perhaps the highest point. It’s hard to
know exactly where something is when it hasn’t been there for over 600 years
and it’s difficult to describe my position just in words. Pay the area a visit
yourself. If nothing else, it’s a pleasant walk.
I
was now going in search of the Secret Garden, not far from here in the park.
Sticking with the 14th century, I hoped finally to set my eyes on
the original stone frontage of Chantry Chapel.
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| Another view towards those rude soldiers of Sandal
*Where
this name comes from will be briefly explored in Post 7. WAKEFIELD'S PARKS AND THE SECRET GARDEN
IF YOU ENJOYED THIS ONE, TRY ONE OF THESE POSTS. SIMPLY CLICK ON THE NAME OF THE POST. |
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