Time Slips at Berry Pomeroy Castle

In addition to its numerous ghostly inhabitants, the castle is known to transport visitors to different eras. In 1878, I recounted this tale to my friend Ana, a distant Pomeroy descendant and schoolteacher in Devon. Unbeknownst to me, she had a fascination with the supernatural and soon informed me of a planned field trip to the castle with her students. I quickly wrote back, cautioning her against visiting, especially given her ancestral ties to the site. There is a belief that spirits may recognize their blood relatives.

Regrettably, my warning reached her too late; she had already gone. At that time, the English Heritage Society had not yet acquired and restored the castle, leaving the grounds wild and overgrown—a place reminiscent of a fairy tale.

Ana approached the castle's garden gate, only to find the front door locked. Determined to show her students the abandoned castle, she wandered toward the remnants of what had once been a garden, now choked with weeds. Off in the distance, she spotted an elderly man, sickle in hand, mowing the grass in a peculiar circular pattern.

"How odd," she mused, moving closer to him. "Children, stay here while I ask the caretaker for a key."

The students complied, settling on the ground as Ana approached the strange figure.

"Excuse me, sir, may I have the key to the castle?" she asked.

The man, with long, tangled hair and a beard, regarded her with curiosity. "Madam, you are quite far from home. Are you accompanied by children?"

"Indeed, I am their teacher, and we hail from a nearby town. I wished to show them the castle," she replied.

The peculiar gardener pondered for a moment before revealing an old iron key. Ana noticed that both the key and the sickle bore the same Pomeroy crest, prominently featuring a lion.

"Yes, you may enter the castle, but tread carefully; the spirits roam freely here," he said, suppressing a chuckle as he handed her the key.

Though she found him strange, Ana accepted the key and retreated, eager to lead her excited students inside. As they explored, sunlight poured through the shattered windows, illuminating the decaying interior.

While Ana was momentarily distracted, the children dashed ahead, and she caught sight of two tall men swiftly crossing the hall. "Excuse me, gentlemen, have you seen my students?" she called, her voice echoing eerily. No response came.

As she reached a section where the roof had collapsed, she was startled to see a horse gazing back at her.

"What an extraordinary place!" she exclaimed, wondering if she had fallen under a spell. She needed to locate the gardener.

Throughout her search, Ana kept glancing out the windows, hoping to spot the old man, but he was nowhere to be seen. As evening approached, both she and the children grew weary, needing to return home after their long carriage ride.

Exiting through the front gate, a heavy silence enveloped the castle—no birdsong filled the air as it had earlier. The children eagerly hopped into the carriage, awaiting their teacher's return. Ana cast one last glance around the deserted grounds, noting the absence of any gardener's activity.

As she prepared to leave, she noticed a rusted sickle lying in the tall grass. Examining it closely, she recognized the crest—this was the gardener's tool, but it appeared ancient and corroded.

Puzzled, she realized she had spoken to the old man and accepted the key from him. Nightfall was creeping in, and she had no time to search for him to return the key. Deciding to come back the following day, she hoped to find the gardener then.

Upon her return the next day, Ana was convinced that the gardener had merely left early and that her eyes had deceived her in the overgrown grass.

As she neared the castle, however, she encountered a man who was not the gardener.

"Excuse me, sir, are you the castle's owner?" she inquired, approaching a man dressed in a dark coat.

He turned, surprised to see her. "No, I am not, but I am a descendant and historian here to view my ancestors' castle," he replied.

"Is there a gardener employed here? I met him yesterday and need to return this key," she said, attempting to hand it to him.

"You must be mistaken," he stated, scrutinizing her for signs of madness.

"No, sir, I am not. He was tall with long hair and a beard, dressed in tattered clothing, wielding a sickle while cutting the grass," Ana insisted.

Recognition lit up the man's face. "Ah, yes! I know whom you refer to. Boris was the gardener when my great-great-grandparents resided here, back in the mid-1700s. He has become a local legend," he explained.

Ana stared incredulously, struggling to accept what she was hearing.

"But that can't be true, sir. I just spoke with him, and he gave me this key!" she protested, still attempting to return it.

"Madam, keep the key. It sounds as though you might have traveled back in time. This place is known for its peculiarities," he replied, gazing at the castle.

Ana was at a loss for words. Had she really traveled through time? Was such a thing conceivable?

"I recommend you do not return here. It is a peculiar place filled with spirits—and Boris," he added with a laugh.

Ana found this real-life man just as strange. Turning away, she dropped the key into the tall grass, wishing to sever ties with such an odd location.

Modern Evidence

Have you noticed the brothers riding their horses in the image above? This photograph was captured a few years ago, with the visiting group unaware of its significance. Visitors frequently report hearing screams and unsettling sounds in the area known as Pomeroy's Leap.

A brief historical overview of Berry Pomeroy Castle, which my family has inhabited for 19 generations:

According to historical records, the de la Pomeroy family held the substantial feudal barony of Berry Pomeroy soon after the Norman conquest, as noted in the Domesday Book of 1086.

While Henry Pomeroy established a deer park in 1207, the earliest mention of a castle dates to 1496, when Elizabeth, widow of Richard Pomeroy, was allocated a portion of both the castle and the estate. The documents indicate these were situated at different sites, with the estate believed to be near the present-day Berry House in the village.

Archaeological findings suggest that the castle, particularly its gatehouse and St. Margaret's Tower, which are the oldest sections, were likely constructed in the late 15th century, marking it as one of the last personal castles built in England, positioned on prime land within the Pomeroy deer park.

Legend states that the castle was seized by Edward VI due to the family's involvement in the religious uprising of 1549. Subsequently, it was taken over by his Protector, Edward Seymour, and later became the residence of Seymour's son after his father's execution in 1552.

The family expanded the estate, adding a magnificent manor, but after it was struck by lightning in 1685, their interest waned, leading to the castle's decay by 1701.

Many visitors claim to hear eerie sounds in the area called Pomeroy's Leap. If you ever find yourself in the vicinity, tread carefully; you never know what might manifest. For those sensitive to spirits, I would strongly advise against visiting.

And thus concludes the tale of Ana, the Pomeroy brothers, and Pomeroy Castle. Will such events persist? Undoubtedly. Such experiences can happen to anyone.

Always,

Thomas

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