Bythesameauthor:

GreatEscapesfromtheTowerofLondon

TorturesoftheTowerofLondon

BeefeatersoftheTowerofLondon

TheTowerofLondonAsItWas

GhostsoftheTowerofLondon

G.ABBOTT

YeomanWarder(retd)HMTowerofLondon

MemberofHerMajesty’sBodyguardofthe

YeomenoftheGuardExtraordinary

VersesbyShelaghAbbott

Contents

IntroductionHauntingsintheTower‘Ghosts!’TheghostlyhandatTraitor’sgateThe Phantom of WaterlooBlockMysticalMiasmaTheThresholdTheMiddleTower

TheOuterWardTheBloodyTowerTowerGreenTheBeauchampTowerTheWhiteTowerTheMartinTowerTheSaltTowerConclusionBibliography

Foreword

Ghost stories have a certainfascination for most people,whetherornottheybelieveinthem, and it is difficult toimagine a more appropriatehabitation for ghosts (if theyexist) than Her Majesty’s

Tower of London, with itsnine hundred years ofeventful and, at times, grimandviolenthistory.Over the centuries, and

indeedinrecenttimes,peoplehave reported inexplicablesights and sounds in theTower. Yeoman WarderAbbott is tobecongratulatedon his carefully researchedcollection of theseexperiences, made

additionallyinterestingbytheinclusionofhistoricdetailsoftheTowerandof thevictimswhose ghosts are said tohaunttheirerstwhileprison.I am confident that the

reader will find this littlebook both interesting andinstructive.

FieldMarshalSirGeoffreyBaker

GCBCMGCBEMCConstableofHerMajesty’s

TowerofLondon

October1979

Acknowledgements

Grateful acknowledgementsto the Constable of HerMajesty’s Tower of London,Field Marshal Sir GeoffreyBaker, GCB, CMG, CBE,MC, the Resident Governor1971–79, Major General Sir

W. D. M. Raeburn, KCVO,CB,DSO,MBE,MA,and tohis successor,MajorGeneralGiles Mills, CB, OBE. Alsothose of my colleagues, pastand present, without whoseexperiences this book wouldhave been a spiritless effortindeed!Theversesatthebeginning

of each section were writtenespecially for this little bookbymywifeShelagh,towhom

Iamdeeplygratefulboth forthem and for so muchbesides.

DEDICATEDTOMYCOLLEAGUES

THEYEOMANWARDERSOF

HERMAJESTY’STOWEROF

LONDON

Whenthemerrywagdothhushhisvoice

Andcower…thenshallyeknow

ThatghostsdowalkwithinthisancientTower.

Factorfantasy,truthortale,Asshadowsshortenandthe

skiesgrowpale,Canyewithcertaintystand

andclaimThatvoicescalled–butno

mancame?

ShelaghAbbott

GHOSTSOFTHETOWEROFLONDON

byGeoffreyAbbott,YeomanWarder(retd.)

(Note; this article was basedon the author’s researcheswhile living in the Towerduring the 1970s and 80s, aperiod when the threat ofpossible terrorist attackwithin the castle was ever-present;lestitbethoughtthatsome of these ghostly

visitations could have beencarried out by practicaljokers, it should berememberedthatat that time,all night patrols of thegrounds were carried out byarmedsentries).TheTowerofLondon,that

stone time-machine whosewallshavewitnessedsomanyhorrific scenes of torture andexecution, must surely layclaim tobe themosthaunted

groupofbuildingsanywhere.This royal palace, the oldestNormancastleinthecountry,has not only been a royalresidence and court, a placeof extravagant splendour inwhich Tudor kings andqueens regaled themselves,and from where thecoronationprocessionssetoutfor Westminster Abbey, butalso a State prison in whichwere incarcerated those

accused of treason andconspiracy.Behinditsembattledwalls,

violent death in all its manyformssnuffedoutthelivesofthefamousandtheinfamous.The sword ended the life ofQueenAnnneBoleyn,theaxeslew Queen KatherineHoward, Lady Jane Grey,Margaret Pole, Countess ofSalisbury,andLordHastings.Griffin, Prince ofWales, fell

to his death from the highwindowsoftheWhiteTower,andtheDukeofClarencewasdrowned, plunged into a buttof malmsy wine. A fataldisease struck down JudgeJeffries,the‘HangingJudge’,in the Bloody Tower, andLady Arabella Stuart diedinsane in theQueen’sHouse.Headless corpses of thosedecapitated in public onTowerHillwereburiedinthe

Royal Chapel of St Peter adVinculawithinthecastle,andenemy spies of both WorldWars faced military firingsquads in theTower, therebypaying the price for theircrimes.But even violent death

cameasamerciful release tothe many who were torturedwithin thesegrimwalls;menlike the Jesuit priest JohnGerard, the Gunpowder

Plotter Guy Fawkes and hisfellow conspirators, andProtestantCuthbertSympson,were but a few of themany,women too,who suffered onthedreadedrackandbyotherinstruments of inhumanepersuasion in the vaultsbeneaththeWhiteTower.Is it any wonder then that

the intensity of their agoniesshould imprint itself sostrongly on the aura of the

ancient castle as to echodown the centuries, therestless spirits seeking toremind us of what theyendured in the Tower? Andwhoshouldbemoreawareorsucheerievisitationsthantheyeoman warders and theirfamiles who live in theTower, and the sentries ontheir nightly patrols? And itwas just such one of thosesoldiers who, on duty at the

MainGateduringWorldWarI, saw a small processionapproachinghimfromTowerHill, the ancient site of thepublic executions. Two mencarrying a hurdle wereescorted by others dressed inlong black gowns and,heedless of the sentry’sinstinctivecommandthattheyhalt, the macabre groupnoiselesslyproceededintotheTower,passingsoclosetothe

soldier that he could see thecorpsewhichlayproneonthehurdle, the head lying by theside of the body. The guardwas turned out, the wholearea searched, but nothinguntoward found. Onsubsequent nights the samesentry again witnessed thegrim cavalcade, the maneventually having to berosteredtoadifferentshiftofduty. Coincidentally, similar

sightings were experiencedduring World War II, thedress of the funereal escortsthen being reported asidentical to that worn by theSheriff of London’s menduringtheMiddleAges.Betwixt Tower and

Thames,theWharfprovidesacobbled roadway lined withancient cannon and greenlawns. Deep beneath theWharf are other, more

modern installations such asdrains tocarry rainwater intothe river. And in 1973 aworkman, having descendedinto the shaft to inspect thearea, suddenly heard a deepvoiceechingalongoneofthetunnels, Distinct yet distant,thewords“Ohdear!”cametohis ears and, even as hepeered apprehensively intothe gloom, a deep andprolongedsighcamefromthe

tunnelwhichstretchedbehindhim.Franticallyhescrambledout, and nothing wouldinduce him to enter thatparticularshaftagain!Inexplicable voices also

alarmed the residents of theDevereux Tower in the1920s. This tower is situatedon the inner ballium wall, abulwark honeycombed withpassages leading to othertowers once used for more

sinisterpurposes.Itwaswhilethe family of an ArmyNCOwashavinga latemealwhenthey suddenly heard loudknockingandmoaningnoisescomingfromthethicknessofthe wall beneath theirapartment. They checked thecellars, but to no avail, andthematterwasreportedtothecolonel of the regiment.Similar sounds werefrequently heard on later

occasions but, as so oftenhappens in the Tower ofLondon, such occurrencesbecomepartofthewayoflifethere and, unless particularlyalarming or distressing, areactually missed when theycease.This attitude of mind was

verymuch inevidence in thefamily of a yeoman warderliving in the Casemates, theapartmentssituatedwithinthe

thicknessoftheouterwallsofthe castle. In the early 1980sheandhiswifebecameawareofafigurewhichcameoutofa room, passed across acorridor anddisappeared intoone of the arrow-slits whichpierces the opposite wall. Itmoved quickly, never visiblefor more than a couple ofseconds, and appeared quitefrequently to the residents,who familiarly referred to it

asthe‘Flitter.’Guestsstayingin other of their roomscomplained of a feeling thatthey were not alone, and ofhearing the sound of deep,measured breathing, and thissensation had beenexperienced in otherapartments in theCasemates,sometimes accompanied byother, more unpleasantemanations. In one, theoccupantsbecameawareofa

strong dank smell whichoccurred about ten o’clockeach night for over afortnight,asmell reminiscentofmouldering clothes. Therewas also a feeling of intenseevil where the smell wasstrongest. In that particularapartment the three-year-oldson of the family was foundsitting at the end of the bed,whimperingandtenseand,asdescribed to me by his

mother, as ‘looking atsomething throughhis closedeyelids.’Children seem to be very

susceptible to supernaturalvisitations. In the terrace ofhouses once the Tower’shospital, the family inoneofthe flats reported thatalthough their small sonfrequently played in a comerofthelounge,onceortwiceamonthhewouldrunoutof it

and stay a few feet away,staring into the corner andcrying.Noamountofcajolingwouldpersuadehimtoreturnto his usual spot, evenwhenhisfatherwentthereandtriedtocoaxhim.Anditwasrelatedtomeby

a1920sresidentoftheTowerthat Eileen, the teen-ageddaughterofayeomanwarderthen living in the BroadArrow Tower, felt far from

alone when going up thespiral stairs to her bedroom.On this occasion, the‘presence’walkedaround thespiral ahead of her, abruptlystopping when she stopped,and her bedroom feltsuddenly cold and damp.Again a search revealednothingbutemptyroomsandlockeddoors.The Bloody Tower, of

course, cannotbe left out, so

grimisitshistory,anditwasduring World War I that itsthen occupants, a yeomanwarderandhisfamily,almosthad a glimpse of theunbelievable. Their daughterNellie went up to bed asusual,herbedroombeing theone in which the two littlePrinceswerebelievedtohavebeen murdered, only toscreamas she saw‘twoboysin funny clothes’ sitting on

her bed. Running downstairsshereturnedwithherparents,who later commented on thechill, eerie atmosphere in theroom. Nothing was found,and the matter was laterreported to the Governor oftheTower.Thisextraawarenessseems

to be possessed, not only bychildren,butalsobyanimals.In1979thepoodleownedbyayeomanwarderlivinginthe

Casemates would growl andbark while staring up atNorthumberland’sWalk,Thatstretch of inner wallbattlements adjoins theMartin Tower whereinAmbrose Rookwood, one ofthe Gunpowder Plotters, wasimprisoned and interrogatedprior to beinghanged, drawnand quartered, and itoverlooks the siteof the riflerange in which enemy spies

wereshot;sowhoknowsjustwhat caused the poodle’shacklestorise?Frompoodles to labradors,

twoofwhichlivedinahouseon Tower Green in the early1980s. Their owners, ayeomanwarder andhiswife,were awaked at one thirty inthe morning by a gentleknocking on their bedroomdoor.The soundgrew louderand more insistent, but on

openingthedoor,no-onewasthere. Although everythingwas checked for the possiblecause of the noise, radiators,loose window catches, etc.,the knocking continued untilfour o’clock, the two dogsmeanwhile barking sowildlythateventuallytheyhadtobeshutinthekitchen.The houses surrounding

Tower Green, in the veryheart of the castle, look out

on to the private executionsite, and in earlier centuriesprovided the accommodationfor some of the doomedprisoners. One house inparticularstandsonthesiteofthat occupied by Lady JaneGrey before her decapitationby the axe, and in the 1920sNellie and her familymovedtherefromtheBloodyTower.Coming home with friendsonenight,theywalkedacross

the cobbles, then stopped as,approaching the house, theysaw the face of a young girllooking out of Nellie’sbedroom window. Enteringthehousetheyhastilytoldherparents and a search wasimmediatelyinstitutedbut,asusual, no trace of anythinguntoward was discovered,and the episode became yetanotherunsolvedentry in theTowerrecords.

Partoftheshockcausedbya supernatural experience isthe sheer unexpectedness ofit,eventhoughone’straininghasbeentoprepareonenottobe caught unawares. Evenyeoman warders and Armysentries are initially takenaback, but because of theirservice background quicklyrecover and react with theirusual efficiency. And so,when a tall dark figure

appeared near the MartinTower in the small hours ofthe morning and seen to‘drift’ down the adjacentsteps, no time was lost inturning out the guard andconducting a widespreadsearch of the entire area.Alas, the search provedfruitless - as was a similarone some years ago, in the1970s,whenasentrybecameaware of a crouching figure

watching him from behindthe locked glass entrancedoorsof theWaterlooBlock.The silhouette wasunmistakeable,beingoutlinedby a bright light behind thefigure,andevenasthesentrystared, the shape movedaway. Despite his fright thesoldier acted promptly,summoning assistance and,with other members of theguard, searched the locked

building from top to bottom,and had any living personbeen hiding there, he wouldcertainly have been detectedandapprehended.In2002Iwascontactedby

the Officer of the Guard inthe Tower, who related anoccurrence involving one ofhis sentries who, while onpost facing the WakefieldTower in the middle of theprevious night, suddenly saw

thefigureofamanwearingahat and long dark coatmountingthestepsleadingupfrom the base of that tower.Onreachingground level the‘man’ turned left under thearchway leading to the InnerWard.The sentry, aware thatall theWakefield doorswerelocked and that rationallythere could not have beenanyone at the foot of thosesteps anyway, immediately

called out the guard and athorough search was carriedout, with the almostinevitable negative result. Iinterviewed the somewhatshakenyoungsoldieroverthetelephone and have no doubtwhatsoever that he had seenwhat he said he had seen,inexplicableornot.On other occasions, of

course,thephenomenonissoordinaryandcommonplaceas

to causenounease at all - atfirst.Whatwasmorepleasantto the author and his wifethan the smell ofhot, freshlybakedbread?Yetno-onewasbaking bread or cakesanywhere in the vicinity!Nothing wrong either, for atourist visiting St John’sChapel in the White Tower,tohearmedievalmusicbeingplayed on the organ. Exceptthat the Chapel doesn’t

possess such an instrument!Andwhowasthemanseenatmidday by a yeoman warderin the Waterloo Block notlong ago? On entering acorridor the yeoman warderheard a voice say “Oh,sorry!". He turned, to see aman approaching the swingdoors six paces away. Onedoorbeingproppedopen,theman passed through andturned the corner. The

yeomanwarder,nowcurious,followed - to find no-one insight, all other doors beinglocked and securely barred!Herecalledthatthefigure,farfrom being clad in Tudordress, wore an ordinary suitand a ‘wartime type’ browntrilby hat. The WaterlooBlock is relatively modern,and did in fact house aGerman spy awaitingexecution by firing squad in

theTowerin1941.All being ex-Warrant

Officers or Sergeant Majors,and therefore trainedby theirservice background to beobservant and not easilyduped, yeoman warders canbe relied on for detaileddescriptions when necessary.So when, before dawn oneOctobermorning,awarderonhisway to open the archwaydoorsat the frontentrance to

the Tower, saw anunexpected figure ahead ofhim as he approached theBloody Tower archway fromTower Green, he took goodnoteofhisappearance.Atallman,he said,wearing a longcoat and a sort of floppybrimmed hat. Curious toknow who was about soearly, the warder sought tocatch upwith theman as hepassed under the Bloody

Tower; yet once through itsarch,thewarderlookedtoleftand right along Water Lane,toseenothingatallalongthefull length of the roadway,only the high ballium wallson each side and the waterlapping the steps ofTraitors’Gate.But in case anyone should

suspect thatonly theyeomanwarders and soldiers aresusceptible to such

supernatural occurrences, letme relate the instance in the1970s when two workmenunlocked the great woodendoor of the Salt Tower onemorning, only to hear thesound of footsteps on thefloor above, footsteps whichslowly paced back and forth.Eventually the sound ceased,and it was a very reluctantpair of workmen whoventured up the spiral

stairway to the chamberwhichhadoncehousedbadlytortured Jesuit priests - onlyto find an empty room, thedust lyingundisturbedon thefloorandledges.Thesametowerfeaturedin

yet another frighteningepisode a year later, when ayoung workman, havingfinishedhis task in theupperroom, closed the door afterhim and started down the

stairs.Halfwaydowntheunlitspiral he suddenly heard thesoundofstampingfeet in theroom he had just vacated.Thinking that some-one,somehow, had got in, heretracedhissteps,onlytofindtheroomempty,thelightstillon (the switch being atgroundlevel).Itwasthenthatunderstandablereactionsetinand,pausingnot,hefledfromthe Salt Tower. Meeting the

author minutes later, herecounted his experience andwe conducted a thoroughsearch, but the sounds couldnot be duplicated by makingthe boards creak orwindowsslam;withtheyoungmanonthe spiral stairs, only MYstamping feet couldreproduce the sounds he hadheard.Another episode involved,

not a workman, but a

postman, delivering mail tothe Tower families. Ahundred yards from theWellTower, a small tower on theouterwall, he saw a yeomanwarder in blue undressuniform sitting on the stepsoutsideitsfrontdoor.Suchaneverydaysightat10.30inthemorning was far fromunusual, but as he got nearerhesawthatthewarderwasnolonger there. Somewhat

surprised,hespoketoanotherwarder some little distanceaway,whoexplainedthatHEwas the only one on duty inthat area, and that the WellTower had been empty andlockedupforyears.Coincidentally the Well

Tower had been a residenceinthe1960s,andtheyeomanwarder’s wife who had livedthere related to me how shehad been pushed out of bed

byunseenhandsonenight,toland unceremoniously on thefloor!On tellingherhusband- for they occupied separatebeds - he informed her thatthe same thinghadhappenedtohimonthepreviousnight!So physical contact is also

a manifestation, and wasexperienced by a LondonTouristBoardGuidewho, asheleftStJohn’sChapelintheWhiteTower,distinctlyfelta

hand grasp his shoulder andsqueezeit twice.Expectingitto be a colleague, he swunground, only to find nobodynear him. Similarsupernaturalmischiefhasalsobeen practised on suchinanimate, 20th centuryobjects as radios andelectrical appliances. In theLanthorn Tower, manned byoffice staff, kettles andrefrigerators were

occasionally switched on, oroff if alreadyon, resulting incold kettles and warmfridges!Inanefforttothwartthe playful spirits, theswitches were taped over -but later were still found tohavebeenoperated!Perhaps the most

inexplicable and blood-chilling visitation in the1970s occurred in the RoyalChapel of St Peter ad

Vincula,thelastrestingplaceof the three executed queensand those decapitated onTowerHill.As related to theauthor by the chapel’sorganist not long after it hadhappened,lateoneeveninghewas practising in thedarkened chapel, the onlyilluminationcomingfromthesmallorganlightimmediatelyabove themusic rack.Whilstplaying, he suddenly heard

theheavyentrancedooropenandcloseand,assuming it tobe a patrolling yeomanwarder who had entered, heturned and looked over theorgan screen. No-one wasthere,butasthelastechoesofthe organ chords died away,he lookedup - to see a face,glowing eerily, aboutfourteen feet from the floor,against a supporting pillarnear the chapel door. For

seemingly minutes he staredunbelievingly at theapparition as it floated there,thensaw it fadeaway.Badlyshaken, he admitted thatalthough he had frequentlypractised his music late atnight, in future ALL thechapellightswouldbeon!Ghostly occurrences

similar to this have beenexperienced in other placeswithinthecastle,notonlyby

residents or staff, but bytourists andpassers-by, someof the reports dating back acentury or more. ManyresidentsliveintheTowerfora considerable number ofyears yet encounter nothinguntoward; others take suchhappenings in their stride,accepting them as inevitableconsequences of the Tower’sbloody history. But when allis saidanddone, remember -

the Tower’s ghosts don’treally care whether YOUbeliveinthemornot!

©G.Abbott7KentPlaceKendalCumbriaLA94EYtel;01539-727339May2004

Introduction

Beitsummerorwinter,dailythe public pour in theirthousands to Her Majesty’sTower of London. Jostlingacrossthecausewaysoverthemoat they surge through thearchways,theirbrightclothes

contrasting with the greywalls, their incessant chatterpenetrating the remotest cellsof the prison towers. Theybring their own holidayatmospherewiththemastheyswarm across Tower Green.Here a crowd listensenthralled to a yeomanwarder, their ‘Beefeater’guide,orstandsimpressedbythe impassive sentry.Yonderthe babel of many tongues

echoesfromtheJewelHouseapproachesasthequeueebbsand flows. Coach partiesnoisily follow their hurryingleaders,childrendash invainto catch the perambulatingpigeon– thescene isalive,awhirlpoolofcolour,ofchatterandhappyactivity.Yetwhenthelasttouristis

shepherded out beneath theBy ward archway and theshadows start to lengthen

acrossTowerGreen,italmostseems as if the grey stonebuildingsshakeoff thetracesof the day’s artificiality.Fornight is the time formemories, and the Tower ofLondon has indeed a surfeitof those.Happyones,yes,ofbanquets and coronations,processions andmerrymaking. But when theclouds scud across themoonand the wind sighs through

the arrow slits, the fortresswraps its cloak of broodingisolationarounditself,likeanoldenshawledwomanstaringintotheembers.Itisthenthattheevilmemoriesof thepastjostletoemerge.Manyhaveexperiencedthe

horror of those memories. Aghostly figure flits across theGreen;footstepsascendstairsuntrodden by human feet; aluminescent cylinder hovers

above a table; huge shadowsofterrifyingshapesappearonbattlementedwalls.Memoriesconjuring up the countlesswretches who suffered theagony of thumbscrew andrack, who perished beneaththe axe. Could they notreturn, to reproach andbewail?This book gathers together

some of the reports ofapparitionsseen, inexplicable

noisesheard.That therehavebeen more, I do not doubt.Noteveryoneisbraveenoughto admit fear, thebloodchilling terror whichturns one’s feet to stone,whenone’s twentieth-centurybrain refuses to accept thesight,thesound,thesensationof…whoknows?I do not seek to explain

them, nor even to commenton the truth of their ever

happening. You may laughwhenthesunishighovertheturrets, giggle with yourfriends as you ascend thespiral stairs in the BloodyTower–sneerifyoumustasyoucrowdroundthescaffoldsite.But when the midnight

mists wreathe low to shroudthe battlements – when thedark cavities of turretwindows watch sardonically

like half-closed eyes – whenthe wind, leaning gently onthe oaken doors, causespendant chains to swing andclank…scoffnot, but speedyourstrideandlooknotback!

HAUNTINGSINTHETOWER

byYeomanWarderG.Abbott

(retd)

Itwas a dark still night inOctober 1978 - so dark thathad the patrolling sentrypeered into the ravens’cageshewould scarcely have beenabletomakeoutthefeatheredoccupants.Not that the birds

were asleep; they stirredrestlessly,asiftheyhadsomefore-knowledge of the eerieeventssoontotakeplace.Thetime was just after teno’clock. The great oak doorsof the Tower of London hadbeen slammed shut andlocked firm, the ponderoushasps securing the castle andits unique treasures againstpossible intruders. TheQueen’sKeys, in accordance

with the ancient ceremonyenacted nightly for sevenhundred years, had beenchallenged, then saluted andheld secure in the BywardTower at the castle’sentrance. The bugle’s brassyvoice had echoed round theshadowedbattlementsandthelittle group of awedspectators to the Ceremonyushered out through theguardedposterngate.Andthe

Normanfortresssettleddownforthenight,leavingonlytheever alert yeoman wardersandsentriesonduty.One such sentry moved

silentlyalonghisbeat,aroutewhich took him along theOuter Ward. This was theroadway between the innerandouterwalls of the castle.The inner wall, thirty feethigh and battlemented,connected some smaller

towers, and was pierced atintervals by archways. Thesegave access to the areasurroundingthecentralWhiteTower, the nine-century-oldNorman Keep at the veryheartofthefortress.The sentry paused by one

archway adjacent to theWakefield Tower. Within itscolddepths,on21May1471,King Henry VI had beenbrutally stabbed to death

whilst at prayer. Theadjoining prison, the BloodyTower, had also witnessedanguish and sudden death.ThereSirWalterRaleighhadbeen caged for many a longyear; there the two youngPrinces were savagelyexterminated. The evil JudgeJeffries chose death by anexcess of brandy rather thanbytheaxe,andalsowithinitswalls Sir Thomas Overbury

succumbed to the corrosivepoisons administered to himbyhisenemytheCountessofEssex.The sentry know nothing

ofthis.Heandhiscolleagueswould be on duty here forforty-eight hours and wouldthen return to their barracksintheCity,tobereplacedbyyetanotherregiment.Beyond this archway

stretched the grassy slope, a

thin layer of autumn leavescovering it. All was quiet.There was no known reasonwhy this particular areashould have a sinisterreputation, any more thananywhere else in the Tower,yetitwasbutfiveyearsorsoearlier that a sentry of theScots Guards had been ondutyatthatveryspot.Hehadbeen aware of somethingmoving, something that had

theshapeofacloakedfigure.Theshapehademergedfromthe shadows, to be promptlychallenged by the sentry.Receivingnoreply,againthechallenge came - a challengethat was stopped mid-breath,asthefigurewasseentohaveno head! That particularepisode ended with thesoldier receiving first-aid forhis distraught condition.Despiteanexhaustivesearch,

no trace was ever found oftheheadlessintruder.Such reports of course

were not passed on throughthe regiments over the yearsand so there was nothing toalarm the sentry on duty onthe night in question. Like awraith himself, he movedalong the roadway betweenthe two high walls eyesprobing the darkened arrowslits the pools of shadows

between the old cannonswhich bordered the path.Suddenly, with a sharp‘click’, a small stone struckhisboot.Thinkingthathehadkicked it, he continued hispatrol. Two, three pacesfurther on, another stone hithis foot, followed by yetanother.Thenonehithimonthe leg! He froze intoimmobility. The smallmissiles seemed to come

from thewallonhis left, thehigh battlements linking theWakefield Tower with theLanthorn Tower. He knewthat all his colleagues wereeitherrestingoronduty-andin the Tower of London no-one played jokes on armedsentries!Curious rather than

apprehensive, he retraced hissteps until, at the end of hisbeat, he met his companion

pacing the adjoining beat. Afew half-whispered words -and the two men changedplaces. The new sentrystepped out, half-doubting,yetwary.Apracticalman,hewas more concerned aboutthe possible damage flyingstones might inflict on hishighly-polishedboots!Half adozen paces - a few more -and then a stone struck hisankle, to clatter away across

the well-worn cobbles! TheOrders for the Guard wereclear and well-defined;anything unusual must bereported immediately. Thesentrymadeaquickdecision;the sergeant’s scepticaldisbelief would have to berisked-thisWASunusual!The senior NCO was not

sceptical.TogetherwithotherNCOs and soldiers, theysearched the area. Therewas

notraceofanylivingperson.Thewallinquestionwasovera hundred yards long andthirty feet high. Even moresignificant, it was eight feetthick, thus effectively rulingout the possibility of anyoneon the other side of thewalllobbing stones over the top.The size of the stones,coupled with the trajectoryrequired, eliminated thechanceofhittingthefeetofa

moving target with anydegree of accuracy. Thatanyone could have been ontopofthewallwasalsooutofthequestion.Theonlyaccesswas through the WakefieldTower, but its two groundlevel doors were locked andits upper door, at battlementlevel, had an additional ironbarredgatesecuredacrossit.The sergeant, puzzled yet

satisfied with the

thoroughness of his search,ordered resumption of thenormal patrols. He resolvedhowever tocarryout randomchecksthroughoutthenight,aresolve which was to leadHIM into a perplexing andeerie situation. But that wasnot until two more sentrieshadhadtheirnervestested!Midnight was striking as

these two approached thearchway beneath the Bloody

Tower. This archway, forlong the only entrance to theInner Ward, the precincts ofthe royal families, was alsothe dreaded route trodden bythe doomed prisoners. Thesetragic figures, queens andprincesses, archbishops andaristocrats, entered viaTraitors’ Gate and thencethrough the Bloody Towerarchway to their prisontowers, many later to suffer

death ‘neath the descendingaxe. Now the archway stooddimly lit in the cold stillnight. A pigeon stirred in awall crevice nearby as thetwo sentries passed beneaththe raised portcullis.Suddenly bothmen shivered,the hair on the back of theirnecks bristling. For a longmoment they halted,experiencing a sensation ofindescribable terror - then,

unheralded,anicygustofairblew through the archwaywith violence sufficient towhiptheirshortcapesupovertheirheads!As quickly as the men

reacted,thewinddroppedandallwasstillagain.Bewilderedtheystaredaround.Therewasnothing sinister to be seen,otherthanthestonegargoyleslooking down enigmaticallyat them from the inner

alcovesofthearchway,stonefaceswhich hadwatched thesplendour and panoply, themisery and despair of thehistoric figures who hadpassedbeneaththemoversixhundredcenturies.One man shrugged his

shoulders. How could youreport a cool breeze and aspooky feeling? Howindeed?!Although itmustbesaid that they weren’t as

badly frightened as a certainGuards Officer in the 1930s.He was stationed at theTower of London and wasreturning to the Officers’Mess there late one night.Passing under the BloodyTowerhefeltamostpeculiarand utterly distastefulsensation which filled himwith an intense desire toescape from that spot. Hismindwent completely blank.

Nextmoment,orsoitseemedto him, he found himselfthree hundred yards away onthestepsoftheMess,gaspingforbreath,hisheartpoundingwildly.Sooverthecenturies, little

has changed - or had thevisitations from the otherworld no knowledge ofearthlytime?TheSergeantofthe Guard certainly had,when, on this night in

October1978,heescortedtheOfficer of the Guard on hisrounds of inspection. It wastwo a.m. All sentries hadbeencheckedandfoundalertand watchful. The lightsburned bright in the barracksin theWaterlooBlockwheresolders were preparing fortheir next tour of duty;otherwise the great fortressslept.Themournfulnoiseofaship’s hooter sounded

distantly, echoing from thegaunt empty warehouseswhichlinedtheriver’sbanks.The officer and his

sergeant passed through theBloody Tower archwaywithout incident. To theirrightstoodpartofathirteenthcentury rampart, crumblingand derelict. Its once sharplydefined arrow slits haddeteriorated into gapingcavities through which the

verdant lawn gleamed as themoon slipped out frombehindacloud.BeyondittheWhiteTowersoaredhighandmajestic, andas the twomenpaused to look up at thatbuilding, the sergeantsuddenly gripped his rifletightlyas,onlyyardsaway,ahuge shadow moved alongthe face of the ancient wall!Theywatchedwide-eyedasitseemed to writhe sinuously,

its shape changing as thebroken, jagged surface ofstone altered its blurredoutline!The men swung round to

scan behind them. Butnothing moved, nothing thatcould have created such anapparition. As if drawn bymagnetism their gazereturned to the wall, wherethe gigantic shadowcontinued to traverse its

length, finally merging withthedarknessatthebaseoftheWakefieldTower.Bothmen,pulses racing, searched againforitspossiblecause-buttheTower of London guards itssecrets jealously and theirsearchprovedabortive.A grey dawn brought

daylight edging over thebattlements, glancing off theflint-cladwalls, thediamond-panedwindowsoftheChapel

RoyalofStPeteradVincula,whereinliethebonesofthreeexecuted Queens of Englandandmany other victims. Thesentryyawnedandthoughtofbreakfast. It had been a longnight.Roundthecorner,fromhis quarters in the Tower’scasemates, came a yeomanwarder, one of the historicbody of men who for overnine centuries have beencustodians of the royal

fortress. Itwas six thirty am,time for him to unlock andswing open the great oakdoors and thereafter controlentry of those authorised todo so. The sentry, silent forlong enough, related thenight’s adventure to his newcompanion. “The stonesactually hit my feet” heexclaimed ‘And because Icould hardly believe it, Icollectedsomeof them-and

heretheyare!”

I was the yeomanwarder onduty that morning; I havethose very stones in front ofmeasIpenthisaccount!Andas I look at them, I wonder;who - or what - held thembeforethesentrypickedthemup…………?!!!!!

Ghosts!

Inthesunlight’tiseasytoswaggerandstrut

Topushonadoorthatiscarelesslyshut.

Buteveningwillbringjustthehintofaquery

Turningreasonawryandproducinganeerie

Dominionofdoubtwhereoncecertaintystood–

Whatliesjustbeyondthatgreatportalofwood?

Isitfiercesomeorgentle?–rapidorslow?

Wiltthoubrazenlyenter–ortarry–orgo?

I’llnotwaitforthineanswerButmeettheebelow…!

You can, if you wish, saythey don’t exist. However,things happen in the Towerwhich cannot be explained

away, and which werereported, moreover, byresponsible,trainedobservers– yeoman warders, guardsand sentries on patrol. Afterall,whyshouldn’tevents,sador otherwise, impressthemselvesonanatmosphereso that their images are stillVisible’ centuries later, likeinkonblottingpaper?Andifthose events gave rise tohighly charged emotions at

thetime,couldnotthemoans,the screams, the footsteps,continue to echo down theages?Afterthepublicationofmy

bookontheTower’sghosts,Ireceivedmanynewreportsofsupernatural happenings, afewofwhichIincludehere.Imake no attempt to explainthem; I am a retired yeomanwarder, not a psychicinvestigator! Interestingly

enough, the visitations don’talways restrict themselves tothe traditional ‘haunting’times after dark. This isfortuitous, allowing thewitnesstoobservedetails–ifnottoounnerved!Events which occurred in

thepresenceofmorethanonepersonwererelated tomebyMr George Trott, who livedfor some time in the MartinTower. This tower once

housedtheCrownJewelsandwas the scene of theattemptedrobberybyColonelBlood in 1671, andsupernaturalhappeningswerereported there in the lastcentury. Mr Trott took upresidence,withhisfatherandmother, in 1921; and fromthereherelates

My father, motherand I moved into

the top livingquarter of theMartin Tower,taking it over fromyeoman warderSmoker and hiswife. They told usthey had heardfootstepscomingupthe inside stairs tothe top quarter butwhen they openedthe door there was

neveranyonethere.Yeoman warder

Curtis VC and hiswife lived in thedownstairs quarterand next day theytook us all over theMartin Tower andtold us about thefootsteps so mymother told me nottobealarmedaboutit.Whenmy cousin

cametolivewithusshe told him thesame.After about five

days or so we hadjustsettleddownforan evening mealwhen we heardfootsteps so myfatherthoughtitwasMr Curtis or hiswife and he openedthe door of the

kitchen/living roomand there was noone there. Thefootsteps stopped.We carried on withourmealand later Iwenttobed.Now about the

second Sundaynight we heard thefootsteps and theycameuptothedoor– and the door

opened – but therewas nobody there!My mother lookedout and my fatherchecked thedownstairs doorswhich were locked,including the doorleading to thebattlements. Thedoor between thedownstairs andupstairs was also

locked. Dad calledyeoman warderCurtis and told himabout it andhe said‘Soyou’vehadyourvisitor–itwon’tbelong before youhear the footstepsagain!’.Dad got the

foreman of theMinistry of Worksto check the door

and had a lockwhich had a slidingcatch fittedunderneath.MeanwhileDadhadtold Sir George(Keeper of theJewels) and LadyYounghusband andshe visited motherandhadagoodtalk.She said she had afriendinCambridge

who was interestedin such ‘goings on’asshecalledthem.Later on the

footsteps came upthestairsagain.Dadhad locked thedoorand put the catchon. The footstepsstopped – and thedoor opened! Thelockandcatchwerestill in the locked

position, we wereamazed! Dadlooked round theTower again,everything wassecure, so herelockedthedoor.About the third

week in November1921, LadyYounghusbandbrought twogentlemen with her

andintroducedthemtous.TheyalsometMr andMrs Curtis,and then theychecked the towerfrom top to bottom.Theyalsolookedupthe history of theMartinTower.My mother said

that next time thedoor opened shewouldsay‘Comein

Mary’andtellmetoshutthedoor.Nothing

happened for a fewdays, until the lastSunday inNovember. One ofthe gentlemen waswithus,andhetookDad and Mr Curtiswith him when helockedthetwomaindoors and the side

doors to the tower,and the doorbetweentheupstairsand downstairs.Wesettled down for alate meal about7.45pm (I wasallowed to stay uponSundays).Motherwasatthe

stove,Iwasreading,Dad and thegentleman were

talking – when thefootsteps came upthestairs!The door was

locked and thebottom catch on.The footstepsstopped – and thedoor opened! Mymother said ‘Comein,Mary–closethedoor, George!’. Butthe gentleman said

‘No, stay still'. Helooked at athermometer andtwo moreinstruments andtook readings. HethenwentwithDadand checked alldoors, which werefound still locked.They went to thetopofthetower,allsecure.

We all settleddownafterthat,andIwent to bedwhiletheyhadadrinkanda chat. Sir Georgeand LadyYounghusbandcame over, and areport was sent tothe ResidentGovernor.When my cousin

cametolivewithus

he soongot used tothe footsteps anddoor opening; theywanted to changethe door but mymothersaidleaveit,as she was quitehappy with ‘Marycalling’. She saidthe footsteps werelightsoitmustbealadycalling.Later we moved

out, and theMinistry of Works’officers took over.One of the staffcalled on motherand toldher that hehadheardmorethanonce footstepscomingupthestairsand stoppingoutside, and whenhecalledout‘Comein’ nobody came,

and no one wasthere. My mothertold him to telleveryoneelsenottoworry, it was onlyMarycalling.

By a strange coincidenceanotherholderoftheVictoriaCross, Britain’s highestaward for bravery, was alsoinvolved in an eerieoccurrence on the other side

oftheTowerGreeninwhatisnow called the Queen’sHouse.Thissixteenth-centurydwelling has housed manyhistoric prisoners, AnneBoleyn, Katherine Howard,Guy Fawkes, William Pennand others, and is the houseoftheResidentGovernor.Colonel Burges VC held

this post in 1923 and, asrelated by George Trott, hadgone to bed early one night.

He was reading, when heheard footsteps come downthe corridor and stop outsidehis bedroom. He thought itwas his batman and so toldhim to come in, but thefootstepscarriedondownthecorridor. The next day heasked his batman about thisandwas told that he had notbeen upstairs. Later on thesame thing happened again,so the colonel had an alarm

switch fitted and when itoccurredagain,hepressedthebuttonandthesoldierondutybelow came running up. Ashe reached the corridor heheard the footsteps movingalong ahead of him. Thewhole house was searchedand everything found secure.Theyeomanwarderonwatchduty reported the matter toChief Warder Smoker, andthough it happened again,

ColonelBurgesneverseemedtoworryaboutit.However, in 1933 he was

replaced by Colonel FaviellDSO,whowastoldaboutthemysterious footsteps. Sometimeafterwardshiswife,whohad forgotten all about thestory, was in bed when thefootsteps passed her door.Shethoughtitwasoneofthesoldiers visiting hermaid, sospoke to her about it. The

maid denied it and so MrsFaviell had the workmencheckallthedoorsandlocks.Not only was the alarmswitchoverhauled,but itwasarranged that when MrsFaviell opened the bedroomdoor, all the lights along thecorridorwouldcomeon.A few nights later, as she

lay in bed, the footstepsapproached. Getting up, shepressed the alarm switch,

alerting the soldier on dutybelow. He locked the frontdoor and ran up the stairs.Meanwhile, Mrs Faviell hadopened the bedroom doorflooding the corridor withlight – and revealing nothingelse, although the footstepscontinued along the corridor!Bravely she ran after‘whoever it was’ but thefootsteps suddenly stopped.More soldiers were

summoned and a search wasmade, but as usual nothingwasfound.Butallthathappenedmany

years ago and could havebeen creaking floorboards!What about actual sightings,recently? Well, in January1982, at 4.30am, theyeomanwarder on watch was in theByward Tower. Thisguardroom has been manneddayandnightby thewarders

and their predecessors forover seven hundred years,and the Watchman was theonlyoneondutyatthattime.He sat opposite the hugestone fireplace, which nowhouses a gas-fire. Twoelectriclightswereon,oneateach end of the smallguardroom.

Thefrontcoverofaguidebookpublishedin1884

Suddenlyhebecameawareof a buzzing sound, like thatof a fly.Looking up he saw,notthegas-fire,butaroaringfireoflogsorcoal.Infrontofit stood two men, side byside. They both had beards,and he noted their spindlylegs, as if theywerewearingbreeches and stockings. The

bright glare of the fireprevented him noticing anydetails of their dress. Theyappearedtobetalkingtoeachother, and then suddenly onemoved his head, to leanforward and stare at thedumbstruck warder! Nextminute both men vanished.The gas-fire reappeared,leaving the Watchman tocollect his senses and hopefor the dawn’s early arrival.

Thereisonefascinatingpointon which to ponder – if the‘man’ leant forward and sawthe Watchman: who thoughtwhowasaghost?Before the public are

admitted to the grounds, theWhiteTower staff sweep thefloors and prepare for thecomingday’srushoftourists.At8.05onemorningin1978,a warden thus engagednoticedawomanthroughone

of the tall glass showcases.Puzzled by a stranger’spresence at that time of day,hewent towards her, only tosee her move through anarchway into the next room.Yet when he arrived there itwasempty,andtheonlywayoutwasupaspiralstairtothechapel. He climbed thenarrow stairway and reachedthe heavy oak door to thechapel to find it securely

locked,andalthoughasearchwas carried out, the resultswerenegative.Another incident in the

White Tower occurred inSeptember 1980, when thenight security guard waspatrolling. It was 11.15pmand the guard wasapproaching the spiralstairway which connects thevaults with the uppermostfloors. As he started to go

down, he was aware of awoman to his left, going up.He had taken two stepsfurther down before herealisedwhathehadseen,sohe turned and ascended. Hefound nothing, all doorsahead of him being lockedsecurely, and he had all thekeys!He described later how he

had been unable to see theupperhalfofherbodyforshe

had leant forward climbingthesteepcircularstairsandsowasrounding thenewelpost.However, he distinctly sawthat shewaswearing ablackand grey panelled skirt.Again, a thorough search ofthe eleventh-century buildingrevealednothing.Finally, I include an

experiencethatwasrecountedto me by a gentleman whowouldprefer tobeknownby

the initials JHW. Althoughsomewhat unnerved at thetime, his profession requiredhimtohaveaneyefordetail,coupled with a photographicrecallofmemory.Iquotethereport in his own words topreservespontaneity.

Though I havepassed by the rearof the Towerhundreds of times,

this was the onlytime I felt or sawanything. It was7.30am on 11March 1980, aslightly mistymorning. As I wasapproachingTraitors’ Gate Inoticed a blue lightwhich wasflickering andtherefore drew my

attention.On lookingdown

IwasamazedtoseeagroupofpeopleinwhatappearedtobeTudor dress. Therewere about eight ormore of them.Leading theprocession was avery big mandressed in a leatherapron, closely

followed by twomen carrying pikesor something likethat, then twomoremen very welldressed. They woreredvelvetwithgoldthread or brocade,andonehadasmallruff, also a lacecollar under theruff.Oneseemed tobe red headed and

had a small beard,the other dark, nohat, and a smallbeard, his costumecameuptohisneck,no ruff, longpuffedsleeves and severalringsonhis fingers.Onemanhadalonggoldchain.Behind them

were twowomen intheir early twenties,

both very richlyclothed. Oneseemed to bedressed in greymaterial, silk andbrocaded, with alow neckline. Bothwomen had a smalltiara,whatappearedtoberowsofpearlsshaped like acrescent on thecrown of their

heads. The otherwoman’s dress wasof a brownishcolour. Both hadnecklets of pearls,double loops,alsoagolden chain andpendant of somesort, long sleevesbut without frills.Thehairofonewassort of auburn, theother brown. Both

dresses werestuddedwithpearls,diamonds, etc, andgold thread orsomethinglikeit.The woman in

brown was holdinga box against herchest with bothhands.Itwasquiteasmallbox,moreofacasket than a box.Thewoman in grey

was clasping aprayer book with acrossonit.Following them

weretwomoremencarryingpikes.Theywere dressed thesame as the otherpikemen,withblackhats and capes orcloaks.The figures

seemed to be

glidingalongasinaboat on the water,and the blue lightwasabovethemandseemed to movewith the figures,growing fainter allthe time they wereinview.The impression

only lasted about aminute or two, thenthere was some

movementalongthewharf and they allvanished likeapuffofsmoke.I cannot say if

whatIsawwasrealor not, but I canassure you I don’twanttoseeitagain,foritleftmefeelinggreatly puzzled andfeeling a great dealof sadness, also

very cold. I havehad many sleeplessnights since then, itis a welcome tohave happened indaylight and not atnight which couldhave had adisastrous effect.However,atnotimedid I feel anymenacing or evilfeeling towardsme,

only as I havealready said, afeeling ofoverwhelmingsadness andcoldness.As well as being

an observer, I feltthat someone orsomething was alsoobserving me, towhat purpose onecannot tell. In my

case there was nofear, but aknowledge that Iwas privileged toseeit.Icanonlysayonce more I hopenever to seeanything like itanymore.

So don’t think thatsupernatural happeningsoccuronlyatnight,toguards

andwarders.Onceyouareinthe grounds of the Tower, atany time of the day, you arejustaslikelytosenseatouchon the shoulder, half see ashape rounding the corner,perhaps hear the echoes of astifledscream…After all, why should you

beexempt?

TheGhostlyHandat

Traitors’Gate

In December 1994 ShannonJohn, an attractive youngAmericanstudent,wasoneofa school group who came tothis country to study Tudorhistory. In London theyindulged in the inevitableroundofsight-seeing,visiting

such national institutions astheNational PortraitGallery,StPaul’sCathedral,theBankof England and then like somanyothers,theycametotheTower of London. But whenthe list had earlier beencompiledofplaces thegroupjust had to see, little didShannon and her familyimagine in their wildestdreamsthatthiswasgoingtobe an experience they had

never expected – for onlyyards from the office blocksand speeding traffic ofmodern London, there,among thecrowdsof touristson Tower Wharf, someonefromabygoneagewasvery,veryclosetoShannon!I first became involved in

the storywhenmy colleagueYeoman Warder BrianHarrison, knowing of myresearch and subsequent

booksontheTower’sghosts,forwardedalettertomefromShannon’s father, Mr ArthurD John of Redlands,California in which heenclosed a photograph ofTraitors’ Gate taken by hisdaughter and enquiredwhetherwecouldaccountforthe gloved hand whichmysteriously appeared in thepicture.TosaythatIwasintrigued

isputting itmildly, forwhileIhadonrecordmanycasesinwhichspectreshadapparentlyappeared to people, ghostlysounds heard and eveninexplicable odours, incenseetc., smelled, this was thefirstoccasionofwhich Iwasaware, of such amanifestation beingreportedly captured on film!Caution of course wasnecessary that it was not a

hoax,atechnicalmalfunction,adoubleexposureorthelike,andondiscussingitbyphonewithMrJohnIwasreassuredthatitwasindeedabonafiderequestforenlightenmentandnot a stunt forpublicity (if itwere, itwouldhaveappearedin American newspapers andnot queried at all with theTowerauthorities,whowouldhave simply dismissed it assuch). A print of the picture

providing few clues as towhether it was genuine ornot,Mr John offered to sendtheoriginalrolloffilm,asthenegativeconcernedand thoseimmediatelyadjoiningitwereof course essential forevaluation.

TheghostlyhandatTraitors’Gate

On its receipt, I acceptedtheriskofbeinggreetedwithribald scepticism and invitednot only military photo-interpretation experts for anassessment, but later also themanufacturers of the film,they having the specialistequipment necessary toinvestigatetheauthenticityor

otherwise of the negative.This they did thoroughly,over a lengthy period, andalthough they werenecessarily wary ofattributing the hand as beingof supernatural origin, theirconclusions can be summedupasfollows;

1.‘Thehandwasnottheresultofa double exposure’.Comment: this was alsoconfirmed by study of the

othernegativesontheroll.2. ‘Despite enlarging, then

darkening the picture tovaryingdegrees,thehandwasstill visible, surrounded by astrange glowing halo,especially round the thumb,this resembling the electro-fluorescent photographsinterpreted by some as the‘aura’whichsurroundsusall,its colour signifying ourmood e.g. blue for sadness,

orange for happiness.’ Also,as will be seen by theillustration,while therailingsare out of focus, the end ofthe sleeve itself, thewrinklesinthematerialandtheoutlineof the fingers are clearlydelineated, yet both are thesamedistancefromthelens.Comment:pointtaken.

3. ‘The image of the hand waspresentinthescenewhenthephotowas taken and had not

been subsequentlysuperimposedbycomputeroranyothermethod.’Comment: obviously anundisputed technicalconclusion. Mr John alsostressedthatShannondidnothavethetechnicalknowledgerequired to fake a picture inthatway.

5. ‘A hand could have intrudedand been captured by theflashtogivethatluminescent

effect, a known but rarephenomenon.’Comment: Shannon said thattherewereonlyherselfandafriend in the immediate areaand shedidnot use the flashon her ‘point and press’camera.NoristhelacyTudoror Stuart style cuff worn bythe ‘hand’ the usual fashionadopted by touring students!Evenhadsomeoneobtainedasleeve as a joke, the wearer

would have instinctivelycurled their fingers round therailings in the picture. Closeexaminationshowsthatthisisnotthecase.Ifthehandisofan era long since gone, thefingerscouldnothavecurledround the railings anyway,because they weren’t there,having only installed about acenturyagotopreventpeoplefallingintothewaterbelow.Several questions remain

unansweredandareprobablyunanswerable anyway. Theposture of the hand itself isunusually awkward, asattemptstocurlthefingersinthat manner, yet keep thethumb line straight, willdemonstrate. Was the ownerof the hand a man or awoman? Was he or shewearing a glove? – thereappearstobewrinklesonthefirstfingerandnothumbnail

is visible. Was it acoincidence that themanifestationoccurredwhereit did, at Traitors’ Gate, theentrance through which thedoomed victims werebrought, to face lengthyincarceration or even deathbeneath the axe? It wascertainly at the precise spotwhere, as I recounted in mybookBeefeatersoftheTowerofLondon, at7.30a.m.on11

March 1980 a passer-bywitnessed and described ingreat detail a procession ofTudor-clad men and women,the men bearing pikes, thewomenresplendentindressesstudded with pearls anddiamonds, one carrying aprayer book with a cross onit,thepartypassingslowly,asif in a barge, under Traitors’Gate and proceeding into theTower. Had he seen a

phantom re-enactment of themoments when QueenKatherine Howard,accompanied by four ladiesandconveyedinasmallboatrowed by four men, passedunder Traitors’ Gate on 10February 1542, KatherinedyingbeneaththeaxelateronTower Green?My informantreportedthathisattentionwasfirst attracted by a flickeringhazeofbluelightbeneaththe

archway;couldithavebeenaglow similar to that whichsurrounded the ‘hand’? Sowhose hand was it?We willnever know. I have only oneregret – that Miss ShannonJohn wasn’t standing backsufficientlyfarenoughtofilmwhoever was on the Other’endofthesleeve!

SkeletonfoundnearTheLanthornTower

ThePhantomofthe

WaterlooBlock

It was 3 a.m. on a coldmorning in September 1980and the sentry patrollingalong the front of theWaterlooBlocksuddenlyhadthe feeling thathewasbeingwatched.Hiscolleagueswerefifty yards or more away,

walking their beats,everywhere was in darknesssave for a glimmer of lightthrough thearrowslitsof theWhite Tower opposite, thebrightest lights of all beingthoseshiningout through thelarge windows in the upperhalvesof thedoubledoorsofthe Waterloo Block itself,lights which clearlyilluminated the entrance hallbeyond.Beingamemberofa

GuardsRegiment,hewasnotgiven to reacting to unusualcircumstances in any otherway than that of a highlytrained sentry; those on dutyin the Tower, whethersoldiers or yeoman warders,thelatterallbeingex-WarrantOfficers or Sergeant Majors,could hardly be classed asbeing susceptible to nerves,and their rolewas toobserveand investigate anything out

of the ordinary, especially atnight.Reaching the extremity of

hisbeatattheendofthelongbuilding, the soldier turnedabout, his sixth sense stillsending out warning signals.His eyes probing theshadows, he suddenly foundhimself looking at theWaterlooBlockdoors-toseethrough the glass windows ashape outlined by the strong

lightsbehind,asilhouetteofaman crouching and watchinghim! For a moment thesoldier froze, his handsgripping his rifle; he knewbeyondtheshadowofadoubtthat those doors, indeed allthe doors, both internal andexternal, were securelylocked.A thiefwould hardlystandinabrightlylithallway,yet how could a member ofstaff or even a tourist, have

been inadvertently locked in?Before he could think up arational explanation, theshape moved away, and atthat the sentry acted inaccordance with hisinstructions; using his radiohe called out the guard, andalso the Armouries wardenresponsiblefornightsecurity.His sergeant and colleaguesquicklyarrived,togetherwiththewardenwhounlockedthe

doors. Not surprisingly thesentry was more thanreluctanttoenterthebuilding,but within minutes, thepossibility of terrorism beingan constant threat, thewholebuilding was subjected to aminute and thorough searchbythearmedsoldiersforanyunauthorised person on thepremises.Allsecuritydeviceswere checked, all roomssearched, but nothing

untoward was found. Thesentry,questionedextensivelyby the Officer of the Guard,aswas the routine, could notbedivertedfromhisstoryandthe incident was entered inthe Report Book asinexplicable.Equally inexplicable were

theeventswhichoccurredonthe upper floor of theBlock,where flats occupied byyeoman warders, Jewel

House members and theirfamilies were situated.Securitybeingthetoppriorityat all times, all the residentswere required to lock outerdoors behind them onentering or leaving thebuilding at night, yet during1979 and the following year,two yeoman wardersdescribed how, at differenttimes in the night andsometimesasearlyas7a.m.,

loud knocking was heard attheir ‘front’ doors, entranceswhich opened on to a longcorridor. No matter howquickly they reached theirfront doors, no-onewas everthere. That they were theactivity of some practicaljoker was discounted, suchchildish practices not beingindulged in by fellowwarders, and anyway, therewere only three or four

familiesalongthatcorridorsoanymiscreantcouldeasilybeidentified. However, bothyeomanwardersreportedthaton several occasions, onopening their doors andlooking along the corridor,theswingdoorsfurtheralongwere seen to be swingingslightly, as if someone hadjust passed through them –yet on investigation all thedoors beyond were found to

be securely locked, as werethose in the oppositedirection. These incidentscontinued for some monthsand then, as mysteriously astheyhadstarted,theknockingsuddenlyceased.An even more baffling

event occurred on 30 July1980 involving anotheryeomanwarderwhooccupieda flat on the second floor atthe east end of theWaterloo

Block. On leaving hisapartment and closing thedoor, he suddenly heard avoice say “Oh - sorry!” andon turning, saw a manstanding by the swing doorssituatedaboutsixpacesaway.Next moment the man hadmovedaway,passingthroughtheaperturewhereoneswingdoorhadbeenproppedopen.It was mid-day, broaddaylight in the corridor and

members of staff notimmediately recognised didpass through the building, sothere was nothing unusualabout the incident – whyshouldtherebe?Andthenthewarder thought again; wherewas the fellow going?Following the route the manhad taken, he foundwhat hehad subconsciously expected–thateveryroomleadingoffthe spiral stairs at the end of

the corridor, both up anddown the stairway, weresecurely locked, mainy ofthem barred as well. Whenquestioned,thedescriptionhegavewasnotofaghostly,be-ruffed Tudor courtier orCavalier dandy – but of aman who wore an ordinarylooking suit and a wartime-typebrownpointedtrilbyhat!This incident gave rise to

much speculation, following

as it did, an occurrence twomonthsorsoearlierwhen,at4.15 a.m. on the morning of24April1980,twopatrollingsentries saw what theydescribed as ‘a tall darkfigure’ at the east end of theWaterloo Block. Theyimmediately gave chase,pursuing the figure down thestone steps leading to theCasemates, the area betweenthe two encircling walls, but

foundnotraceofanintruder.Anothersentryhadalsoheardsuspiciousnoisesat that timeand so the guard was calledout and a thorough searchmadeofthearea,butwithnopositiveresults.To ascertain the possible

significance of theseoccurrences, whether linkedor not, we must go back totheseventeenthcentury.Priorto1694,theyearinwhichthe

Grand Storehouse was builtthere, most of that area wasthe cemetery of the RoyalChapelofStPeteradVinculawhichissituatedimmediatelyto the west. The Storehouse,an imposing three storiedbuilding, was a vastdepository of weaponssufficienttoarm60,000men,together with thousands ofhistoric artifacts, banners,drums,arraysofbayonetsand

pistols; even the survivinginstruments of torture weredisplayed there. But onSaturday 30 October 1841 adevastatingfirebrokeoutinasmall tower immediatelybehind it, a conflagrationwhich eventually envelopedthe Storehouse itself despiteall the effortsof theTower’sfire brigade and those of theCity. Thousands ofLondoners lined the edge of

themoat towatch thepallofsmoke, the flames leapinghigh into the air, thecollapsingroofandwalls,andwhen dawn came there waslittle to see other thansmoulderingruins.The site was cleared

completely and in preparingthe foundations for a newbuilding on the site, theremains of many bodies,including,itisbelieved,those

oftheallegedloversofQueenAnneBoleyn,werefound.Asmentionedinanotherchapter,more remains werediscovered in later years, allbeingre-interredintheCrypt.The new building was the

present Waterloo Blockwhich, when completed in1845, was called theWaterloo Barracks, its mainuse being to house theTower’s garrison of soldiers;

it also contains offices, storerooms and as previouslymentioned, accommodationfor members of staff.CurrentlyofcoursetheJewelHouseisalsosituatedtherein.The building being so

comparatively recent, thespectral ‘crouching figure’andtheknockingonthedoors– if indeed they weresupernatural occurrences -could possibly be attributed

to eternallywandering spiritsof long-dead medievalcorpses still moulderingbeneath the foundationsalthough they would havehardly appeared as the manwearing a war-time typepointed trilby! On the otherhand, all the reportedphenomena couldconceivablyhavebeencausedby the latter apparition, andthe vital clue in this

connectionisthattherewasaprisoner actually held in theWaterloo Block, as recentlyastheSecondWorldWar.Hewas a German spy, JosefJakobs,whowas confined ina room in the upper floor atthe east end of the Block –the same floor and in closeproximity to where the ‘maninthetrilby’wassighted!Josef Jakobs was born 30

June1898andonenlistingin

theGermanArmy,rosetotherank of sergeant, attached tothe Meteorological Branch.Selected as an espionageagent because of hisknowledge of the Englishlanguage,hewas issuedwiththe civilian clothingnecessary to pass withoutsuspicion in England,wireless transmittingequipment with which tocommunicate with his

German base headquarters,and an identity cardidentifying him as JamesRymer. He was givensufficient funds in Englishcurrencytoenablehimtopayfor accommodation andpurchase foodanddrink, andwas also supplied with abottle of brandy in the eventof emergencies. Forimmediate sustenance onarrival, should that be

necessary, he was given anitem of food designed toevoke instant nostalgia – atraditionalGermansausage!Onthenightof31January

1941,wearingaparachute,heboarded an aircraft whichthen took off and headed forsouthernEngland.Once overthe estuary of the RiverThames, the pilot navigatedbyfollowingthecourseoftheriverasfarasGravesendand

Greenhithe, then turned duenorth to drop his passengerover North Stifford, Essex.On descending, Jakobs,doubtless in trying to avoiddroppingintothetreetopsofa wood, made a heavylanding in a field nearby,breaking an ankle.Incapacitated, unable even toburyhisparachuteandflyingkit with the small spade hecarried, he was helpless to

avoid capture by the Armypersonnel patrolling in thevicinity.It being obvious from the

equipment he carried that hewasona subversivemission,hewastakentoBrixtonGaolwhere he received medicalattention tohis injuredankle.He was then interrogated byofficers belonging to thecounter-espionagebranchandit soon became apparent that

such was his loyalty andsenseofpatriotism,therewasno question of him defectingandbecomingadoubleagent.Seven months after hiscapture,on4August1941,hefaced a Court-Martial, andafterhearingalltheevidence,Jakobs was found guilty andsentencedtodeath.HewastakentotheTower

of London and, as statedabove, was lodged in the

Waterloo Block, guarded bysoldiers of the ScotsGuards.Early in the morning of 14August1941,hewasescortedto the miniature rifle rangewhich before its demolitionstood only yards from theauthor’s apartment in theTower. There, seated in achair (because of his injuredankle)hewasexecutedbyaneightman firing squad underthe command of Major P D

Waters M.C., five bulletspiercing the circle of lintpositionedoverhisheart.Hisbodywas taken to theTowermortuary, a room situated inthe outer wall of the eastmoat, beneath the approachroad toTowerBridge,wherea post mortem was carriedout, after which it wasconveyed to St Mary’sRomanCatholic Cemetery atKensalGreenandthere,after

the appropriate funeralservice,interredinacommongrave.

Thechaironwhichthespysatwhenexecuted–notemissingrungtornawayby

bullets.

Was he – could he havebeen – the ‘man in a trilby’seen by the yeoman warder?The fact that words werespoken did not necessarilypreclude‘him’frombeinganapparition; phantoms aresometimes quite vocal;

unmistakeable screams haveon occasion been heardemanating late at night fromthe execution site on TowerGreen, and ghostly moanshavealsobeenreportedfromother places over the years.Weretheknocksonthedoorshis appeals for help inescaping his prison?Was hethe ‘crouching man’ at theWaterlooBlockdoorwho,onseeing an ‘enemy’ soldier

through the window, turnedawayanddisappeared?Couldhe have been the ‘tall darkfigure’ seen by the twosentries vanishing down thesteps to the Casemates – theroutewhich led to thesiteofthe rifle range?Anddoeshisspirit frequent that area aswell?In1979apoodleownedbyayeomanwarder’sfamilyliving opposite, took tostaringattheplacewherethe

rangeoncestood,barkingandgrowling as if witnessingsomething only it could see.Whether the apparition wasthat of Josef Jakob or not,may he, a brave and loyalsoldier who died for hiscountry,findeternalpeace.

MysticalMiasma

TheSpectreoftheSpiralStairway

‘Whatever married man didnotrepentofhismarriage,orquarrel in a year and a dayafter it, should go to hisPriory and demand thepromised flitch of bacon, onhis swearing to the truth,kneelingontwostonesinthe

church-yard’. That ancienttradition, still practisedalbeitrarely, dates back to thethirteenth century and wasinstituted by Lord RobertFitzwalter. The prize wasknownastheDunmowFlitch,the Priory in question beingDunmow Priory, situated intheEssex townof thatname.Robert Fitzwalter was Lordof Dunmow, although hespentmuchofhis timeathis

London address, Baynard’sCastle, in Surrey, now longsince demolished. Howeverone can be quite certain thathewouldnothaveconsideredhis Sovereign, King John, tobe eligible for such aphilanthropicaward,forJohn,although married to QueenIsabella of Angouleme,harboured lustful thoughtsdirected towards a beautifuldamsel called Maud, or

Matilda, the Fair – for shehappened to be Fitzwalter’sdaughter!The King’s improper

advances were spurned bythat young lady, but sodetermined was the monarchthat in the year 1212 he hadher kidnapped from thefamilyhomeinDunmowandbrought to the Tower ofLondon, where she wasimprisonedintheroundturret

of the White Tower. Onhearingofthedastardlydeed,her outraged father sought toraise the other barons inrevolt against the monarch,but failing in his efforts, hewas forced to flee to France,his estates then beingforfeitedtotheCrown.As the months went by,

John continued to force hisunwanted attentions onMaud, but she refused to

speak to him or even thecourtiers who conveyed hisardent pleas. Eventually,determined that if he couldnot have her, no-one elseshould, he arranged that herfood should include apoisoned egg and Maud,unsuspecting his murderousintent, ate it and died. Herbody was taken back toDunmow and interred in thefamilyvaultthere.

When the news of hermurder reachedFrance,LordFitzwalter returned toEngland, to find that thebaronswerenowonthebrinkofrisingupagainstKingJohnandRobert,placinghimselfattheir head, was therebyinstrumental in forcing theKing to sign (actually tomakehismark)ontheMagnaCarta at Runnymeade. So itcouldbesaidthattheCharter

which gave us all our civicfreedom originated with apoisoned egg eaten in theWhite Tower by Maud theFair!But does her spirit still

haunt that ancient building?One afternoon in 1980 aLondonTouristBoard guide,conducting a party throughthe White Tower, reportedthat he had distinctly felt ahand grasp his shoulder and

squeezeit twice.Assumingitwas a tourist seeking hisattention, he turned roundimmediately– to findno-onethere, the members of hisgroup being some yardsaway!Onemanwho actually did

see ‘someone’ was anArmouries warden who, atfive minutes past eight onemorningin1978,longbeforeany visitors were admitted,

wassweepingthefloorinoneoftherooms.Ashewasthusengagedhehappened to lookup and saw, through one ofthe glass display cases, awoman. Puzzled at herpresence, he walked roundthecabinetandsawhermovethrough an archway androundthecornerintothenextroom. On following her hesaw that there was no-onethere,andastheonlywayout

was up the spiral stairs, heascended them, only to findthat the door at the top,leadingintotheChapelRoyalof St John, was locked andbolted. Summoning hiscolleagues, the whole areawas searched, but no sign ofthewomanwaseverfound.That episode, occurring as

itdid,inbroaddaylight,musthavebeendisturbingenough,but the incident experienced

by a night security guard onduty in the White Tower at11.15 pm one night inSeptember 1980 was enoughtomakehispulsesracefasterthan usual, as he admitted tome when, on the followingday, he described whathappened.Hehadenteredviaan upper storey and thenapproached the spiralstairway which connects thevarious floors. As he started

to go down he suddenlybecame aware, out of thecornerofhiseye,ofawomangoing up. She seemed to beleaning forward as shemounted the stairs, for theupper half of her body wasobscured by the newel post,thethickstonecentrepillarofthe stairway, but he recalledthat she was wearing a longblack and grey skirt of somekind. Before he had really

comprehended exactly whathe had seen, he had taken afurthertwostepsdownwards,so he immediately turnedbackandascended.Climbingas quickly as he could, hisadrenalin flowing, and tryingtoseeroundeachbendinthestairs before reaching there,eventuallyhereachedthetop– to find himself facing alocked door! He confessedafterwards that although

completelymystified,hewasrelieved that the apparitionhad not turned round andcome down again to meethim!So could it have been the

ghost of the young girl, sobrutally murdered forrefusing toyield to theKing,who one morning hadalarmedthewardensweepingthe floor? Was it her handthat had touched the guide’s

shoulder?Coulditreallyhavebeen Maud the Fair who inthe dead of night was seenmounting the spiral stairs? Itmay have been – for beyondthat locked door was theroundturret!

TheStone-ThrowingGhostJoiningtheWakefieldandtheLanthornTowersonthesouthsideoftheFortressisaforty-foot high crenellated wallapproximately six feet wide,andaccesstothetopofitcanonly be gained via thedoorways in each of the twotowers.At about 8.30 pmonthe moonless night of 19October 1978 the sentrypatrolling between the inner

and outer walls in that areasuddenly became aware ofsmall stones hitting his legsandboots.Thesecuritylightswere on, and there was no-one in the vicinity. Hecontinued his patrol, only toexperience further stones,thrown singly, striking hislegs. Mystified – anddoubtless hoping to avoidfurther scratches on hishighly polished boots! – he

calledtohiscolleagueontheadjoiningbeatandaskedhimto change over; on doing so,he too was peppered withsmallstones.Atthat,themendecided to call out the guardandon theirarrival,asusual,the area was scrupulouslysearched, with negativeresults. There was no windwhatsoever, so the stonescould not have been blownfromthetopoftheinnerwall,

the direction from which thestonescame;thedoorsatbothends of the wall-walk werenot only bolted and securedbutalsohadadditionalbarredgates lockedacross them.Oninspecting the wall-walknothing could be found toarousesuspicionandthedustonitlayundisturbed.Evenmorebafflingwasthe

fact that the trajectory of thestones was such that no-one

standing on the other side ofthe wall could possibly havethrownthestonestoclearthetopof thewallandscorehitsso accurately on a movingtarget.Norcouldanyonehavestood there without beingseen by the night securityguard whose office wassituated on the ground flooroftheLanthornToweronthatsideofthewall.The author, going on duty

nearby at 6.15 am thefollowing morning was notonly given a full account ofthe night’s events, but wasalso given three of the flintymissiles – and holding themin my hand, I sometimeswonderwho–orwhat–heldthem before they struck thesentry’s legs – perhaps aTudorpoltergeist?!If so it could well have

been the same onewho, two

years later, causedannoyance, if not minorhavoc, in the Lanthornsecurity office, members ofthe staff repeatedly findingtheelectrickettleswitchedonwhen it had been switchedoff, and the refrigeratorswitched off when left on!Consequently, in order tothwart the spectral prankster,the kettle was alwaysunplugged from the socket

whennot inusebut, it beingnecessary to keep therefrigerator running all thetime, the wall switch wastaped over.But therewas nofrustrating the phantomfingers, for the switch wasstilloccasionallybeingfoundinthe‘off’position, thefoodthawing and the cold drinkstepid!

TheRed-HairedLadyontheQueen’sHouseStairsThe Queen’s House, a

magnificentTudorbuildinginthe south-west corner ofTower Green, rich intimbered panels and ceilings,steepedintradition,wasbuiltin 1530 on the orders ofHenry VIII. He intended tolive thereasanalternative tothe White Tower but havingdisposed of CardinalWolsey

(who was heading for theblock and a beheading, butfortuitouslydiedenroute)theKing commandeeredHampton Court and so thenew house became theofficial residence of theLieutenant of the Tower, itbeing known as theLieutenant’s Lodgings. In1880 it was renamed theQueen’sHouse, inwhich theResident Governor and his

familylive.Itwasthereinbygonedays

that prisoners brought to theTower were initiallyquestioned, ‘booked in’ andassigned their variousquartersinthefortress.Some,Guy Fawkes, Anne Askewandotherswerebroughtfromtheir prison quarters to beinterrogated there, but thereally important prisonerswere actually confined either

there or in the Bell Towerwhichbacksonto it,a towerwhichcanonlybeenteredviathe Queen’s House, allthereby being under the day-today supervision of theLieutenant. Those whoendured imprisonment inthose two buildings read likea veritable list from history;Princess Elizabeth (laterElizabeth I), Anne Boleyn,Katherine Howard, Sir

Thomas More, ArchbishopFisherandmanyothers.LadyMargaret Douglas, Countessof Lennox was imprisonedthere for five years on threedifferent occasions, LadyArabella Stuart endured overfour years confinement onlyto die, her sanity gone. ThedoomedLadyJaneGreywasaccomodatedthereforashortwhile and in more recentcenturies theQuakerWilliam

Penn, founder ofPennsylvania, and RudolphHess,Deputy Fuhrer ofNaziGermany also foundthemselves deprived of theirfreedom behind thosetimberedwalls.So it is hardly surprising

that their suffering anddeprivation has given rise tothe many instances ofsupernatural occurrencesreported over the last two

centuries,accountsofghostlyfootsteps (see my Beefeatersof the Tower of London pub.1985), theunnaturalcoldnessin some of the rooms, theinexplicable sounds heard,evenghostlysightings.Anditcould have been one of thelatterwhichwas experiencedby a secretary one darkevening in April 1994. Shewasaloneinthebuildingand,needingsomepapersfroman

upperroom,startedtoascendthemainstairway.Asshedidso, she looked up – to see awoman facing her, amotionlessfigurewho,inherown words, existed only‘from thewaistup, as if in aportrait’. Caught completelyunawares, she later recalledthe appearance of the figure,noting the white collar andthe fact that ‘she’ had redhair. In such a situation it is

noteworthy that all sense oftime usually deserts thewitness,andthislevel-headedyoungladywasnoexception,describing afterwards howtime seemed to stand still,until the apparition suddenlyvanished. Unbelieving, sheautomatically continued tomount the stairs, and quitesometimeelapsedbeforeshewas able to recover from theshock.

Who could the ghostlyfigure have been? The mostlikelynametospringtomindis of course PrincessElizabeth who, like most oftheTudors,had redhair, andthe ‘white collar’ could havebeentheruff,whichshemadefashionable and thereforemandatory in Court circles.Admittedly she was notexecuted, but at the time ofher imprisonment, under

suspicion of being involvedin some of treasonable plotsprevailing at that time, hermind must have been in anagonised state of constantturmoil lest her half-sisterQueenMaryshouldsuddenlydecidethatsuchthreatstoherthrone could be eliminatedonly by condemning her tofollowin thefootstepsofhermother Anne Boleyn, up thescaffold steps on Tower

Green.

TheThresholdoftheTowerofLondon

Liftthinehead,Ifthouhastyetthegutandwill,EreBlackCapliftsitforyou,Leavingthycorpsetorestas

stillAsallthecrowdaround.

Liftthineheadandlookaloftforstrength,

Beforethybloodalonedothsmudgetheaxe’slength.

Immediately outside theTower of London standsTower Hill. From thateminence many men –womentoo–lookedtheirlastontheTower,onLondon,onlife itself. For it was on

Tower Hill that scores ofvictimsmet death, death thatcamebytheflashingaxe,theburning logs, the taut rope.Down through the centuriesthe names reproach historyforthemannerinwhichdeathwasmetedout:JohnGoose,aLollard, burnt in 1475; fourchurch robbers hanged in1480,aswasLadyPargitor’smanservant for coin clippingin 1538; John Smith, Groom

of King Edward’s Stirrup,beheadedfortreasonin1483,together with WilliamCollingbourne, Sheriff ofWiltshire,hanged,drawnandquartered for composing averse derogatory to RichardIII. Death distinguished notbetween the highest and thelowest; from Don PantaleonSa, brother to thePortugueseAmbassador, beheaded formurder 1654, down to Mary

Roberts, Charlotte Gardnerand a one-armed soldier,William MacDonald, hangedfor rioting in 1780. Manyeminentnamesgracethelists,lords, dukes, archbishops,mostofthemhavingbeenledfrom their prison cells in theTower of London by theyeomanwarderswho handedthemover(againstareceipt!)to theSheriff ofLondon andhis men at the Tower Gates.

Following beheading, thehead was spiked on LondonBridge as an awful exampletoall,thebodybeingreturnedtotheTowerforburialwithinor near the Chapel Royal ofStPeteradVincula.It is hardly surprising then

that such suffering shouldmanifestitselftothosewhosedutiesrequirethemtobenearthe main gates. There thevictimsfirstfacedthewaiting

crowds,thesurgingmultitudeof avid spectators; there thegrim procession started, toend on the scaffold on theHill.And so it was that one

night in World War II asentry patrolling the Towerentrance was suddenlyshocked into bloodchillingawarenessoffigurestroopingdown the Hill towards him.Cladinquaintuniforms,they

slowly advanced. In theirmidst they bore a roughstretcher.Andonthestretchersprawled a headless body –whilstbetweenarmandtorsolay the severed head! Nearerand nearer the grim cortegeapproached–to fade intonothingness when barelyyardsaway.Thesentry’sdetailedreport

was investigated by theauthorities with great

thoroughness. It wasdiscovered that the uniformsworn by the ghostly figurestallied with those issued tothe Sheriff’s Men in theMiddleAges,menwhosejobit was to bring the corpseback for burial; the headbeing conveyed to LondonBridge by river from TowerSteps, the quickest and mostcustomary route. All thereported facts agreed with

historicaldetail– sowhoarewetodoubtit?

TheMiddleTower

TheMiddleTower

Herethemind’searissorepress’t

Tocatchbutonesweetblessèdbreath

Drawnfromoutanhappyheart.

ThistowertheycalltheMiddle….

Whathathbecomeofboththeendandstart,

Andwhichfinejokerhath

broughtforthThisgloomyriddle?

This, the first towerencountered on entering thecastle, dates from 1280,though it was restored in1717. It was too near theouter walls to be much usedas a prison, but the name of

oneeminentprisoner appearsintheancientrecords,thatofLaurence Shirley, EarlFerrers. In1760hemurderedhis bailiff Johnson, shootinghim with a pistol, for whichfoul deed he was taken toTyburntobehanged.Alwayselegant, the earl wore silver-embroidered clothes andmadehis final journey in hisown carriage drawn by sixhorses.Hisentitlement,asan

earl,tobehangedbyasilkencord, was denied. He swungfromacommonhempenrope.So was it his eccentric

spiritwhich, a fewyears ago(1977), terrified two paintersworking within the MiddleTower? In broad daylighttheyheardtheechoingsoundof footsteps pacing thebattlemented roof above. Atfirst each thought the otherwas responsible and so was

notalarmed.And then,whenboth were later workingtogetherinthesameroom…themeasuredpacingsuddenlycommenced. With dawninghorrortheireyesfollowedthepathofthesoundsbeyondtheceiling – to pause – then toretraceitsroute.Assistance was called for,

and a thorough searchrevealednophysicalpresencenor any hiding-place. No

battlements connect thistower with any other. Yetagain and again during thenext few days the footstepswereheard.Wasitthemurderousearl–

or some other, unrecordedfelon, whose restless soulfindsnopeace?

WaterLane–BloodyTowerandWakefieldToweronthe

left

TheOuterWard

Whatsweetsubtletiethouart,Thattakesmyheart

Andrendersitensnaredandpalpitating!

ThouartsurelyoftheGods’creating,

AndnaughtofthisunhappyTower,

ThecombiningofashiningParenthoodartthou,

AveryChildofEoswiththy

milkenbrow,Acradle’swealthgrownunto

womannow,Thebreathoflifeforwhichmy

soullaywaiting.OdallybytheWellToweryet,

AndcullaknotofBergamotWithinthygarden,

TillmyfrailgraspbetraysmetothisOubliette,

AndIamthusbytheeandalltheWorldforgot,

Whononewouldpardon.

Sallyport,Bywardarchway

The area between the innerandouterwallsof theTowerof London is known as theOuter Ward. Thesouthernmost stretch, fromtheBywardTowertotheSaltTower, is Water Lane, the

river Thames once flowingthere before the constructionof the outer wall in thethirteenth century. The otherthreesidesoftheOuterWardare called the Casemates.These ‘vaulted rooms withina fortified place’ are stores,workshopsandtheresidencesof yeoman warders, theirfamiliesandotherstaff.Overthe centuries prisonerstraversed the OuterWard on

theirwaytoaprisontowerorwhile being escorted to theirdeaths. It ishardly surprisingthen that thisareahas its fairshareofoccurrencesthatdefyrationalexplanation.One night in 1968 a Scots

Guards sentry, whose patroltook him from the BywardTower and Sally Port (agloomy portal, once theRoyal Entrance over themoat) and along to Traitors’

Gate, was found in adistressedcondition.‘They’refollowingmeupanddownonmybeat,’hegaspedfearfully.‘They came out of the SallyPort!’Nothing untowardwasdiscovered–butthesentryhadtoberelievedofhisduty.Within a year or so yet

another visitation occurred,farther alongWater Lane. Inthe middle of the night thesentry on duty there rushed

into the guardroom.Distraught, the hair on hisneck literally bristling, hecould only gasp: ‘Man incloak – man in cloak!’ Hewas given medical aid tocombathisobviouslyshockedcondition and, when morecoherent, he described whathe’d seen. A cloaked figurehad suddenly emerged fromthe shadows. The sentry hadbeen about to challenge, but

the words had frozen on hislips ashe saw that the figurewasheadless!

KingHenryVI

OnWater Lane stands theWakefieldTower, one of themost ancient towers withinthe fortress. Built in thethirteenth century, it hasservedmanyuses:entrancetothe long demolished RoyalApartments;storehouseofthestate treaties and papers;depository of the CrownJewelsandStateRegalia.The

most gruesome functionhoweverwasthatofaprison,its dungeon being capable ofconfining scores of doomedwretches within its coldbarbaricwalls.The Wakefield’s most

distinguished prisoner waswithout doubt King HenryVI. This gentle, learnedmonarch, fated by birth towear the Crown, was ill-equipped to be the firm,

decisive leader demanded bya country torn by civil strife.As the fortunes swung in theWar of the Roses, so HenryVI first ruled fromWestminster, then sufferedcaptivity in theTower.Therefinally, ‘on a Tuesday night21May 1471 betwixt xi andxii of the clock, theDuke ofGloster being then at theTower andmany others’, thesad kingmet his end.Whilst

prayinginthelittleoratoryinthe upper chamber of theWakefield Tower he was‘stikkedwithadagger,fullofdeadly holes’ – a dagger,manypeoplebelieve,wieldedby Richard of Gloucester,thoughnoproofexistsofthis.And it is said that the

king’s pale figure has beenseen wandering fitfullyoutsidethechamberinwhichhewassobrutallyslain–and

that the figure appearsbetween eleven o’clock andmidnight!Between the Wakefield

Tower and the next, theLanthorn Tower, runs a highbattlementedwall,partoftheinner curtain wall. There,centuriesago,stoodtheGreatHall, abode of Royalty,providingmore comfort thandid the White Tower. Therekings and queens presided

over sumptuous banquets,whilemaids-in-waitingflirtedandjestersprancedandjoked.Sowho–orwhat – threw

stones at a patrolling sentryon a dark still night inOctober 1978? From thebattlementstheyrattledabouthis feet. Thrown singly, theyhithisboots,onestrikinghisleg–yettherewasnowindtodislodge flaking fragmentsfrom the coping stone – nor

did they fall vertically, butlanded five yards or morefrom the wall’s base. Whenanother sentry took over, hetoo was subjected to similarbombardment. A searchrevealednothing–excepttherealization that there was noaccesstothetopofthe.sheerwall other than a small doorhighintheWakefieldTower,a door not only locked buthaving a further iron-barred

gatesecuredacrossit.No trace of the unseen

assailantcouldbefound–butshaken R.A.F. Regimentsentries, and a handful ofsmall stones, bear witness totheplayfulnessofwhat long-deadjoker?Facing the Wakefield

Tower is Traitors’ Gate, theentrance through which theprisoners were brought byboat from their trial at

Westminster. Proudprincesses, doomed queens,condemned ministers, lordsand prelates passed beneaththe grim archway, itsportcullis raised in readiness,prisoners en route to harshimprisonmentorworse.Above the archway is St

Thomas’ Tower, named notas is often thought after StThomasMorebutStThomasa’Becket, Archbishop of

Canterbury,forheitiswhoseghost is reputed to haveappeared when arch andtowerwerebeingbuilt.In 1240 King Henry III,

having filchedadjoining landin order to increase thedefences of his castle, gaveorders for aWatergate to bebuilt,withalowtoweraboveit. Tradition has it that onSaint George’s Day 1240,when the edifice was all but

complete, a storm arose andarch and tower collapsed.Work was restarted andproceeded well – until SaintGeorge’s Day 1241, whenagainthebuildinggaveway.Theexplanationwasgiven

by a priest who claimed thathehadwitnessedtheghostofSt Thomas a’Becket strikingthe stoneworkwithhiscross,whilst exclaiming that thedefences were not for the

benefit of the kingdom but‘for the injury and prejudiceof the Londoners, mybrethren’. Upon which direcondemnation the arch andtowerwerereducedtorubble.Henry III, mindful that it

was his grandfatherwho hadcaused the death of that‘turbulent priest’ Becket,prudently insured himselfagainstghostlyrecriminationsby including in the new

building a small oratory, andnaming thebuildingafter theindignantmartyr,StThomas.Earlier this century the

then Keeper of the JewelHouse,Maj.-Gen.SirGeorgeYounghusband, KCMG,KCIE, CB, resided in StThomas’ Tower. He relatedhaving been in a room there,the door of which slowlyopened – remained so for afew seconds – then just as

gently, closed again. Thishappenedmorethanonce,butnothingmorewasseen.Therehavebeenreportsofamonk,wearing a brown habit,movingthroughtheshadows,whilstamorerecentoccupantand his family recountedinstances of having heard in1974 a soft ‘slap slap’, as ifof monks’ sandals movingacross a wooden floor –disconcertingtosaytheleast,

since the residence had walltowallcarpeting!

Wakefield/Lanthornbattlements,OuterWard

MintStreet, thatsectionoftheOuterWardrunningnorthfrom the Byward Tower, isnot exempt from eeriehappenings. I myself as ayeomanwardergoingondutybefore dawn one morningheard a sentry approachingalong Mint Street. ‘Hasanyone passed you?’ the

sentry, a Scots Guardsman,asked. Ipaused, thenqueriedthe sentry’s departure fromthe usual beat. ‘I heard anunearthly shriek,’ heexplained. ‘It came fromalong there.’ He pointed inthe direction from which Ihadcome‘AndaftertheyellIheard the sound of runningfootsteps!’He spoke calmly and was

obviouslynotamangivento

flights of fancy – yet I hadwalked alone along the dark,silent street for over twohundred yards, having heardandseennothing.Not all the instances have

occurred in the open air.Footsteps have been heardascending the stairs withinone of the houses set in thethickness of the outer wall,footsteps sounding when noone but the listening resident

wasinthehouse.Later,inanupper room,mywife felt theoverwhelming presence of‘someone else’, a sensationaccompanied by a feeling ofchilling evil. At last,determined not to panic, shecould nevertheless withstanditnolonger,andhadtoretreathurriedly to find the comfortof neighbours and theeverydaybustleoftheworld.

Traitors’GateandStThomas’sTower

Other residents have heardthe crying of a baby comingfrom an upper room.Thinking it was their childthey investigated. Theirs laysleepingpeacefully in itscot.But the eerie cryingcontinued – from where?fromwhat?Within the same house a

yeoman warder, whilststanding in the hall oneevening, suddenly becameaware of a man a few feetaway, by the front door. Nomediaevalfigurethis;noruff,no doublet, no foppishCourtdresseven–yetoldfashionedin away, forhewore agreysuit cut in the utility style ofthe 1940s. As the yeomanwarderturnedinsurprise, thefigure vanished. This

happenedin1977.No records exist of any

tragedyinthathouse–exceptthat only yards away stooduntilrecentlytheill-fatedriflerange where enemy spieswereexecutedbyfiringsquadduring the two World Wars.Behind the highwalls of theTower of London they faceddeath bravely. Who knowswhen their spirits foundpeace?

MintStreet,OuterWard

TheBloodyTower

Stayyenearthetower,theBloodyTower,atten,

Andyeshallhearacry,AgreatAmen,

ThatliftstheveryRaven’ssavagehead,

Andwakesthesleepingservantinhisbed.

‘GodpreserveKingHenry!’istheshout,

Andbywarder‘gainststrong

guardthekeysarecarried,Asifironintopalmthetwain

aremarried….Andthewhilethecandlelampit

goesnotout.SopraiseyeallthatGod

preservesKingHal,Foolhardyistheonewhose

voiceisweak,Butifyehaveaughtelseon

whichtospeak….Waittillthecandlelampit

goethout!

BloodyTowerArch

The Inner Ward is the areasurrounding the WhiteTower,andisborderedbytheinner wall. For manycenturies, when Royaltyresided in the White Towerand the Royal Apartments,

the inner ward was for theexclusive use ofRoyalty andthe nobles of the court. Alsowithin the protection of theinner wall were stored thenation’s armoury, the StatePapers, and the Regalia andJewels. During thesecenturies there was only oneentrance to the innerward, aheavily guarded archwaybeneath a gatehouse knownoriginally as the Garden

Tower (it overlooked thegardens of the Lieutenant’sLodgings) but later as theBloody Tower. Situated onlyyards from Traitors’ Gate, itserved admirably as a prisonfor princes and knights,bishopsandjudges.Here, in Queen Mary’s

reign, languished ThomasCranmer, Archbishop ofCanterbury, Bishop Latimerof Winchester and Nicholas

Ridley, Bishop of London.Opposing the Pope’ssupremacy, they werecondemned as heretics andlaterburnttodeathatOxford.Here, in the same reign,

John Dudley, Duke ofNorthumberland, wasconfined for attempting tomake his daughter-in-law,Lady Jane Grey, Queen ofEngland.Heperishedbeneaththe axe on Tower Hill, the

vast crowd cheering as hedied.

TheBloodyTower

JudgeJeffries,theHangingJudge of the MonmouthRebellionin1685,eventuallycaught by the mob, wasplaced in the Bloody Towerfor his own protection –where he drank himself todeath with copious draughtsofbrandy.The Bloody Tower also

heard the whispering of evil

conspirators, when SirThomas Overbury survivedfearful poisoning for overfour months. He had soughttopersuadehis friendRobertCarrnot tomarry theviciousCountess of Essex, but heunder-estimatedherinfluenceand malice. Finally herpoisonous concoctions tookeffect, and in the BloodyTower he died a horrifyingdeath.

But if the stones couldspeak, surely they wouldlament the deaths of the twolittle princes in 1483.Confined, it is said, in theupperchamberoftheBloodyTower, the two small boys,twelve-year-oldKingEdwardV and his nine-year-oldbrother Richard Duke ofYork, were taken from theirmother’s care into thecustody of their uncle,

Richard Duke of Gloucester.Placed in theBloody Tower,they were never seen again.The country could notcontinuewithout a ruler, andso the Duke of GloucesterbecameKingRichardIII.Tradition states that one

boywassmothered, theotherstabbed to death. Skeletonsdiscovered in 1674 beneathan external stairway of theWhite Tower were assumed

tobetheirs.And so their two small

ghosts, hand in hand, clad inwhite nightgowns, have beenseen around the BloodyTower, a sight for pity andcompassionratherthanterror.

SirWalterRaleigh

Be they innocent childrenorworldlyadults, theBloodyTower spared none, andsurely no one proved morebrave than Sir WalterRaleigh. An adventurer, ascientist, the favourite ofQueenElizabeth,hecoulddolittle wrong. But the nextmonarch, James I, had notime for men of Raleigh’s

sophisticated calibre.Accused of treasonableplotting, Raleigh was soonthe occupant of the BloodyTower, a confinement whichlasted thirteen years. Hewould stroll on Raleigh’sWalk, the battlemented walladjoining his prison; dressedalways in the height offashion, hewas popularwiththe people, with richmerchants, ambassadors and

learnedmen.Butastheyearsdragged by, the cold of thestones and the dampness ofthe river mists sapped hisvitality, and rheumatismrackedhisageingjoints.KingJames, anxious toconcludeapeace pact with Philip ofSpain, acceded to Philip’svengeful demand forRaleigh’sdeath,Raleighwhohad plundered so much goldfrom Spanish galleons and

colonies.Eventually, on 24th

October 1618, after years ofdeprivation, Raleigh wasawakened by a yeomanwarder and told his fate.Peter, his valet, attempted tohelphim toprepare, tocombhis hair. Raleigh, undauntedtotheend,retorted:‘Letthemcomb it that shall have it!’Taken toOld PalaceYard atWestminster, he met death

bravelyastheaxedescended.His phantom, then, surely

has greater claim than anyothertoreturntothesceneofhis long imprisonment. Overthe years it has beenreportedly seen flittingnoiselessly through theforbidding rooms of theBloody Tower; seen too onmoonlit nights by thosewhose duties take them pastRaleigh’s Walk, his ghostly

figure floating along thebattlements.InRaleigh’stimetheWalk

extended to the Lieutenant’sLodgings.Now part of thosebattlements are incorporatedinhousesbuiltacenturyorsolater, houses occupied byyeoman warders and theirfamilies.Andsince1976onewifeinparticularwillalwayshave cause to remember thather bathroom is positioned

where Raleigh promenaded.Deciding to have a bath, sheleantovertoturnonthetaps.Next minute a hand brushedgently over the small of herback! Instinctively shestraightened up, turning tochide her husband – thencaught her breath as sheremembered that he wasWatchman for the night andhad left thehousehoursago!However, yeoman warders’

wivesarenotgiventoswoonsor the vapours; ‘Oh, stop it,Raleigh!’ she exclaimed and,undaunted, continued withherablutions!Incidents such as this are

not restricted to nighttime,nor do they occur only toofficials or residents of thefortress. In August 1970 ayoung visitor to the BloodyTower saw a long-hairedwoman wearing an ankle-

length black velvet dress,standingbyanopenwindow.She wore a white cap, andaroundherneckhungalarge,goldmedallion.Asthevisitorstared,thefigurefadedaway.Intrigued, the visitor

returned some weeks later –only to see the apparitionagain, in the same place!Nolonger shocked by theunexpected, she was able todescribe in detail the apparel

oftheghost.

‘PrincesintheBloodyTower’(anartist’simpressionfromanEdwardianpostcard)

Themediaeval records areunderstandably incomplete,but for all we know, one ofthe many women whosuffered imprisonment maywell have been locked upbehind the Bloody Tower’sancient,creakingdoors.Two R. A.F. Regiment

sentries on guard in October1978 will not easily forgettheir tour of duty.On a still,moonless night, just aftermidnight, with never anautumn leaf stirring, theypatrolled beneath the BloodyTower arch. For no apparentreason they paused, feelingeerie apprehension, the hairsat the back of their necksbristling–andthentheirshortcapes billowed upward,

almost covering their faces,as an icy breeze suddenlyblewthroughthearchway–arush of cold air which diedaway as rapidly and asinexplicablyasithadarrived.Later that night their

sergeant traversed the grimforbidding archway en routetotheWaterlooBlock.Tohisright the floodlightsilluminated the ancientthirteenth-century wall built

to stand high andimpenetrable, guarding theapproaches to the WhiteTower. Now it wascrumbling,piercedbygapingholes once arrow slits andloops.The sergeant paused, his

attention attracted by ashadowhecould see througha hole in the nearest end ofthe wall adjoining theWakefieldTower.Hestared–

then his eyes widened withdisbelief as the shadowmoved…vanished…onlytoreappear at the next hole!Hardly pausing, the shapeslipped past each gapingaperture, gliding silentlyalong behind the crumblingwall. Yet when the sergeantreached the far end, nothingwas to be seen on the wideexpanse of grass stretchingbehindtheWhiteTower!

TowerGreen

If’tisseen,mensay’tisnot.If’tisheard,mensaythelotOfallfoolsisasimple-

mindednessBeyondbelief.

SowhyholdfaithinaughtButcandle-flamethatburneth,

Roasting-spitthatturneth,Lover’sheartthatyearneth?

Theseareplausible,mensaith….

SokeepuntothyselfthytaleOfyestere’en’sethereal

wraith!

TowerGreen

Acentralgarden,shelteredbyplane trees, is known asTower Green. It is boundedon the east by the WhiteTower and theChapel RoyalofSt Peter adVincula formsits northernmost side. To the

west squats the BeauchampTower, while its southernborder is theQueen’sHouse,originally the Lieutenant’sLodgings – since 1530 theresidence of the officer incharge of the Tower ofLondon.In such a pleasant oasis it

is easy to imagine the royallevees, the parties andmerrymaking which musthave taken place here during

thecenturieswhentheTowerof London was a RoyalResidence. Yet one smallenclosure on Tower Greenconstantly reminds us thatthis is where the privatescaffold stood, the five-foothigh wooden platform,draped in black, strewn withstraw. There, witnessed bythe Royal Court anddignitaries of the City ofLondon, perished those

whose only crime was toincuraking’swoundedprideor be thought a dangerousrival.Before 1536 executions,

even of women, were notinfrequent;infidelitytoo,washardly a rarity. Yet thepunishment of death foralleged unfaithfulness – andthat in thepersonofaQueenof England – wasunimaginable. That such an

event did happen has neverceased to horrify and appalsubsequentgenerations.

QueenAnneBoleyn

AnneBoleyn, secondwifeof Henry VIII, had beenqueen two brief years whenshewas accused of infidelityand treason and sentenced tobe ‘either burnt or beheadedonthegreenwithintheTowerashisMajestyinhispleasureshould thinkfit’.Confined intheLieutenant’sLodgingsforfourdays, shewas ledout to

the private execution site.Strangely enough she was tobebeheadedbythesword–arare weapon of execution inEnglishhistory,but infinitelypreferable to the axe. Thelatterwasacumbersomeandill-balanced weapon, itsprimitive design oftennecessitating more than onestroke.Anne mounted the steps

andkneltupright,therebeing

noblockwhentheswordwasemployed. The Frenchheadsman, black clad,stepped forward. Herattention being distracted byhisassistant,Annemercifullyfailed to see the flashingbladeas,withonestroke,herhead was severed. Inaccordance with custom, theexecutioner held her headhigh – and the gatheredassemblygasped inhorroras

theeyesandlipscontinuedtomove! Her pitiful remainswere ensconced in an oldarrow chest and buriedbeneath the altar in theChapel Royal of St Peter adVinculaonTowerGreen.It is hardly surprising,

therefore, that through thecenturies apparitionspurporting to be those of thedoomed queen have beenseen, even by those most

prosaic and level-headedhumanbeings,soldiersoftheBritishArmy.In 1864 a sentry of the

King’s Royal Rifle Corps onduty at the Queen’s Housesaw, through the swirlingrivermist,awhite figure.Hechallenged and, receiving noreply,attacked–onlytodrivehis bayonet through thespectre! Being found in astate of collapse, he was

court-martialled but twowitnesses at the window ofthe Bloody Towercorroboratedhisstoryandhewas acquitted. The phantomfigure was seen by othersentriesinlateryears,gainingthe sentry post an evilreputation.

CouncilChamberintheQueen’sHouse

Still in the last century, ayeoman warder swore underoath to seeing a bluish formhovering,ashapewhich thenseemed to move towards theQueen’s House, whilst in1933 a guardsman reportedseeing a headless womanfloatingtowardshimneartheBloodyTower.

WithintheQueen’sHouse,long a prison for royal andimportant personalities aswellasbeingtheLieutenant’sresidence, many an eerieexperiencehasbeenreported.Across the ancient timberedfloorswalksthe‘GreyLady’.Only a woman will everdiscover her secret – for shehas never been seen by aman. In the 1970s the figureof a man in mediaeval dress

was seen drifting along anupper corridor, whilst in thesame decade firm footstepswere frequently heardascendinga rearstairway.Soconvincingwerethesesoundsthat eventually two residentsinvestigated. On hearing themeasured tread, one residentwent instantly to the foot ofthe stairs, his companiongoingtothetop.Slowlytheymoved along the stairs – to

meetnoonebuttheother!Late in 1978 an American

guest in the house heardreligious chanting. It wasmidnight,andthefaintmusicand voices continued forsomeminutes.Assumingittobe from a radio or similarequipment, she mentioned itcasually the next day – onlyto be told that nomusic hadbeen played as late as that.The same slow religious

chant had been heard on aprevious occasion by aresidentpassingbythehouse.

TheGunpowderPlotconspirators

A room adjoining that inwhich Anne Boleyn passedher last few days has aparticularly unearthlyatmosphere, being noticeablycolderthanotherroomsinthehouse. A peculiar perfumedsmell lingers in the air, andsuch is the brooding menaceof the room that no

unaccompaniedgirloryoungchild is ever permitted tosleep in it, for in the pastthose who were have wokento feel that they were beingslowlysuffocated!AcrossTowerGreenis the

Chapel Royal of St Peter adVincula, and an instancesome years ago of lightsburning therein led theOfficer of the Guard toinvestigate. Peering in

through the window, hestared unbelieving at thespectacle confronting him.Along the aisle, between thetombs,movedaprocessionofspectral figures, knights andtheirladies.Theywereledbya female who, he averred,resembledAnneBoleyn, andtheymoved towards thealtarbeneath which her pitifulremains had been buriedcenturies before. Even as he

stared the vision faded andthe chapel darkened, leavingthe officer alone in thedeepening shadowsofTowerGreen.Of the women who

perished so violently on theprivate scaffold, surely nonesuffered more terribly – normore undeservedly – thanMargaret Pole, Countess ofSalisbury.Overseventyyearsofage, innocentofall crime,

the countess was slain as anact of vengeance by KingHenry VIII. The countess’son, Cardinal Pole, from thesafe havenofFrance, reviledHenry’s religious beliefs.Retribution – and the axe –descendedonhismother.Onthe scaffold the countessproclaimed her innocence.Sherefusedtokneelover theblock and she challenged theaxeman to ‘remove her head

as best he could’. Pursuingher around the block, theaxeman is said to haveliterally hacked her to deathinawelterofblood.

ChapelRoyal,StPeteradVincula

Overthecenturiesitseemsas if her proud Plantagenetspirit still shrieks defiance tothe sombre skies. On theanniversaries of her brutalexecution, her ghost isreported to run round thescaffold site pursued by thespectral axeman, thebloodstained axe brandished

aloft.One night in 1975

personnel in the WaterlooBlock overlooking theGreenwererousedintheearlyhoursby the sound of piercingscreams.Thiswas confirmedby men on duty in theByward Tower, and a fewnights later the guardsmanpatrolling the rear of theWaterlooBlockalsoreportedthat just before dawn he too

heardhigh-pitchedscreamingfrom the direction of theGreen.Nothingwasfound.Could it really have been

the death cries of thehideouslymutilatedcountess?

TheBeauchampTower

Heavensendusopenweather,ForifIstaythussoshutup,Withnowalkuponthe

battlements,ThenshallIlosemylooks,my

wits,Andaughtelseofvalue

ThatthegoodLordgaveme.‘TisnotmuchwhenItakeair

andexercise.Theguardsandwomenthere

allcrowdtheway.ButIcanstretchbothfootand

eye,Andseetowheretheriver’s

sheenDothmockthesky.

SoIdosay….Heavensendusopen

weather,ThatGodandIandLondon

TownMaystandtogether.

TheBeauchampTower

On the west side of TowerGreen, overlooking thescaffold site, stands theBeauchamp Tower. Becauseof its proximity to theLieutenant’s Lodgings itbecame one of the more

‘popular’ prison towers,favouringthoseofnoblebirthand high estate. Not thatmuch comfort was provided:a fire, some candles, rushesspreadonthefloor, thesedidlittle to compensate for theopen arrow slits and cold,thickwalls.Originally the prison room

and the living quarters of itsguardian,theyeomanwarder,on the top floor, could only

be reached via thebattlements from the BellTower, the latter beingintegralwith theLieutenant’sLodgings (now the Queen’sHouse).Thepresentdoorwaywasalateraddition;inearliertimessuchanaperturewouldhaveweakened the defences,and in any case itwould nothave been seemly forprisoners to have beenconducted through the Inner

Ward, the precincts of thenoblesandtheRoyalFamily.The lower chambers, then,were dungeons, cramped andgloomy cells secured byheavy doors, approached byspiralstairsfromabove.OverthecenturiestheState

Prison Room, on the firstfloor,housedmanyprisoners.In them the flame of hopeburnedbright,thehopethatachangeofmonarch,achange

of policy, could bring abouttheir release. For a greatnumber of them, however, itwas not to be; after years ofcaptivitytheywereledout,toface the baying mob, theblack-cladaxeman.Somedidsurvive, to have titles andestates bestowed on themanew. A grim gamble, withFatetossingthedice!

Elizabeth’sWalk

During their imprisonmenttime hung heavy. Many ofthese were men of breedingandofletters,skilledinLatin,versed in theScriptures.Andthere, locked away in thegreat fortress, having ceasedto exist so far as the outsideworld was concerned, theycarved inscriptions on thewalls. Proud family crests,

pitiful pleas of innocence,religious quotations, evenwry witticisms adorn thestonework, mute messagesfrom those who lived fromday todayunder the shadowofviolentexecution.The instrument they used

for inscribing was in allprobability the dagger. Forkswere not invented until theseventeenth century; beforethatmencarrieddaggerswith

which to cut their food andconvey it to their mouths. Itwasof littleuse inanescapebid. The century of thehostage is the twentiethcentury; when almost anysacrifice is made to save ahumanlife.ButintheMiddleAges life was cheap and aprisoner who, holding hiswarder hostage anddemanding freedom, wouldhavebeen told togoahead–

the Lieutenant had manymore warders with which toreplace theonestabbed!Andshould the prisoner employhisdaggertocommitsuicide,it would simply save theaxemanajob.Amongthosewholefttheir

marks in the stone is PhilipHoward, Earl of Arundel. Adevout Catholic, he wasimprisoned in 1585 accusedof aiding the Jesuits and,

later, of praying for thesuccess of the SpanishArmada in its attemptedinvasion of these islands.Queen Elizabeth spared hislife, even offering him hisfreedom if he would forsakehis religion. He refused. Forten years he was heldprisoner, then died, in hisfortieth year, in theBeauchampTower.One of the more famous

occupantsof theStatePrisonRoom was Lord GuildfordDudley, son of the Duke ofNorthumberland. The duke,adviser to the ailing KingEdward VI, arranged forGuildfordtomarrytheking’scousin Lady Jane Grey, andthen recommended to theKing that shewas thepersonmost suited to succeed to thethrone. She was eligible bybirth, and the Duke was a

veryambitiousman.Tohavehis son and daughter-in-lawKing and Queen of Englandwould have given himimmeasurable power andwealth.The young king agreed to

this, then conveniently died.Whereupon Northumberlandbrought Guildford and hiswife to theWhiteTowerandproclaimed Lady Jane GreyQueen of England. But he

was completely unaware thatthe majority of the countrywanted,notJane,butthedeadking’ssister,MaryTudor.SooverwhelmingthesupportforMary, so troublesome theuprisings by those few whosupported Jane, that the daysoftheuncrownedqueenwerenumbered.Shewasbeheadedon Tower Green; her father-in-law Northumberlandbegged for mercy and

promised to renounce hisfaith,toembraceCatholicism.MaryTudorpermittedhimtodo so, the ceremony beingenacted in St John’s ChapelintheWhiteTower.Thenshehadhimexecuted!Young Guildford and his

four brothers were allimprisonedintheBeauchampTower,wheretwocarvingsofthe name ‘Jane’ have beenfound inscribedon thewalls.

Ofthefivebrothers,onediedtherein, three were released,and Guildford perishedbeneath the axe on TowerHill. His headless body,‘draggedinacarre’acrossthecobbles,wasentombedintheChapel Royal of St Peter adVinculaonTowerGreen.As with other towers, so

the Beauchamp has its shareof supernatural happenings.The battlements connecting

the Bell Tower with theBeauchamp had the name‘Prisoners’ Walk’ and later‘Elizabeth’s Walk’. Herethoseprisonerswhowerenotclose confined (that is,fettered and chained withintheir cells), were allowed toexercise, and even catch aglimpseoftheoutsideworld.Hardlysurprisingthen,that

a Tower guide should see aman wearing cavalier-type

clothing moving along thosebattlements. This sightingoccurredduringtheafternoonand, as Elizabeth’s WalkcannotbeseenfromtheInnerWard because of the housesobscuring it, the figure couldonly have been seen fromoutsidetheTowerofLondon,from the area of the frontgates.The apparition could well

have been that of James,

Duke of Monmouth who in1685 led the ill-fatedMonmouth’s Rebellionagainst the King’s forces.Defeated, hewas imprisonedin the Bell Tower anddoubtless exercised onElizabeth’s Walk. After histrial he was taken to TowerHill and there, before amultitude of spectators, gavethe axeman a few goldguineas to make a quick job

oftheexecution.

James,DukeofMonmouth

‘Pray do your businesswell,’ he said. ‘Do not serveme as you did my LordRussell;Ihaveheardthatyoustruckhimthreeorfourtimes– if you strike me twice Icannotpromisenottomove.’The inducement availed

him little; the axeman tookfive blows to sever his head,much to the fury of the

crowd. It is related that thehead was subsequently sewnbackontothetorsosothataportrait could be painted, thejoinbeinghiddenbyascarf.Inside the Beauchamp

itself, eerie gasps have beenheard from time to time, andornaments unaccountablychange their position withinthe room. An old storyrecounts how the spectre ofLord Guildford Dudley was

seen, shedding ghostly tears,drifting around the StatePrison Room. Poor Dudley,sosoontobepartedfromhisyoung queen-wife, to bereunited after death beneaththe cold altar stones of StPeter’sChapel.

TheWhiteTower

Plantedashewasinmanhood’sstrength,

UpontheBroadwalkwherehiseyeshadlength

Enoughtocompassmajestieandmight,

Hemadeastudyofthenation’sviledisorder.

‘Everlikethisithasbeen,’hepondered,

‘Everthearrow’slinehas

wandered,‘Tillthebowisslackandstill,‘Andtheshaftwithoutaflight.

‘Butlookyou,London,‘LookyouGod’senviron’d

world,‘TowheretheUnionFlagat

sun-upisunfurl’d,‘TherebytheWhiteTower’s

gloweringimpound,’‘IsstoodaYeomanWarder

stronglytohisground,‘And‘neathhisbreastinhappy

prideencurl’d,‘Thethrobbingheartof

Englandstillisfound.’

StandingproudlyintheInnerWard, dominating TowerGreen, the Broadwalk andindeedalltheothertowers,istheNormanKeep–theWhiteTower.Ninety-two feet high,its battlemented roof is

cappedbyfourturrets,aroofstrong enough to support theweight of the many cannonwhich defended the Keep inthereignofHenryVIII.LikemostNormankeepsit

originally had but a singleentrance, situated one floorabove ground level. Shouldall outer defences fall, themen-at-armswouldthenhackaway the external woodensteps and, out of reach of

batteringramscouldcontinueto hold out against attack.The White Tower was self-sufficient even in that vitalcommodity, water, a well inthebasementprovidingamplesupplies.Not content with the

protection of the moat,drawbridges and portcullis,two surrounding walls and asmallresidentarmyoftroops,theRoyalFamilylivedasfar

away as possible from anyattack – on the uppermostfloor of the White Tower.Adjoining their apartmentswas the Great CouncilChamber,wheretheissuesofthe day were resolved,usually by the king. TheWhiteTowerwasprimarilyacastlebuiltfordefenceratherthan a palace for luxury, andso thenarrowpassagescouldbedefendedbyjusttwomen,

and the spiral stair wasdesigned ‘clockwiseascending’ so that a right-handed defender hadsuperiority wielding a swordagainst a right-handerattacking up the stairs.Comfort there was little,windows being small forprotection but, unglazed,admitted the bitter windsblowing along the river.Tapestriesonthewalls,straw

strewn floors, log firescrackling in the fireplaces;primitive conditions indeed,but at least the occupantswere safe from attack. Inthose days that was allimportant.The Banqueting Chamber

andthequartersofthenoblesof the Court occupied thenext floor down, while thereception floor housed themen-at-arms and personal

staff.Nor was the spiritual side

of life neglected; the WhiteTower possesses one of themost perfect examples of aNorman chapel, the ChapelRoyal of St John theEvangelist. Here royaltyworshipped;heretheOrderoftheBath tookplace inwhichpotential knights preparedthemselves before theiraccolade;heretoo,LadyJane

Grey was proclaimed QueenofEngland,thegirlsoyoungto be queen, so soon to die;andMaryTudorplightedhertrothtoKingPhilipofSpain.The lowest floor, half

underground, housed thearmoury and kitchens, thedungeons and the torturechamber. No doors orwindows there, in thosedays–behindthefifteen-feetthickwalls, accessibleonlyvia the

spiral stairs from above, theprisoners were incarcerated.There, in the darkness andsqualor,men–andwomen–suffered the agonies of therack, the fearsomeconstrictionsofSkeffington’sDaughter, its iron bandscontorting the body beyondendurance. For whilecoronationprocessionsrichinpanoply and trappings didindeed start from the White

Tower; while festivecarousals filled theBanqueting Chamber, life inthe fortress was only revelryand feasting for those in thesovereign’s favour. Others,who had forfeited the royaltrust, forfeited their freedom–andlater,theirheads.From the very roof to the

dungeons, the White Towerhas witnessed violence anddeath. Kings and princes,

lords and ladies, evencommonsoldierslookedtheirlast on the world there.During the Civil War aRoyalist soldier was hotlychasedup the spiral stairsbyaRoundhead.Havinglosthissword, desperately theRoyalist dropped to his kneeand, tripping his pursuer,seized him and hurled himthrough the window, theRoundhead crashing to his

death on the Broadwalkbelow.Centuries earlier, in 1215,

the country had groanedbeneath the harsh rule ofKing John.But, traditionhasit, he had more to concernhim than the suffering of themasses. Despite beingmarried, he was determinedto possess Maud FitzWalter,‘Fair Maud’, daughter ofBaronFitzWalterofBaynards

Castle.Sherepulsedhiseveryadvance and so, not to bedenied, he had her abductedand locked up in the roundturret of the White Tower.Her father protested sovehemently that the kingexiled him and his family toFranceandthen,allobstaclesremoved, continued hisassaultofFairMaud’svirtue!Though caged and helpless,Maud defied him –

whereupon he caused apoisonedeggtobesenttoherin her food. She ate it – anddied there in the bitter coldlonelinessofthehighturret.Much later her father

managed to return home, tofind thecountryon thevergeof revolution. Mustering theother barons to the cause, heled them against the King,ultimately forcing him toendorse the Magna Carta.

And so it could be said thatthedocumentwhichgavetheEnglish their freedomoriginated from a poisonedegg in theround turretof theWhite Tower. PerhapsMaud’s life was notsacrificedentirelyinvain.Highon thebattlements in

1234 Gruffydd Prince ofWales sought to escape bylowering himself from theroofbymeansofa rope.But

the rope broke and Grufyddplunged to instant death,beingfoundthenextmorning‘his head and neck crushedbetweenhisshoulderblades’.His son, Llewelyn, also aprisoner, later escaped andcontinued to fight theEnglish.Capturedin1282,hewas executed and his headwasmounted on a spike andexhibited in London whilebells rang and crowds

cheered. Itwas adornedwithan ivy wreath, thus fulfillingthe ancient prophecy that aWelsh prince would one daybe crowned in London! Thehead was then attached to aturret of the White Tower,nearthespotfromwhencehisfatherhadpreviouslyfallentosuchahideousdeath.Trulyawarning to all, that escapedidn’talwaysmeanfreedom.Even the top floor,

domicileoftheRoyalFamily,was not spared its share ofhorror. In the adjoiningCouncil Chamber one day inJune 1485 Richard, Duke ofGloucester (later KingRichard III) presided at aCouncil Meeting. Requiringto dispose of Lord Hastings,heaccusedhimoftreasonandwitchcraft. ‘By St Paul!’ heexclaimed,‘IwillnotdinetillIhaveseenthyheadoff!’

ThewretchedHastingswashustled down the spiral stairandouton theTowerGreen.Alogoftimberservedastheblock; without trial orcomfort of clergy his headwas struck off – then showntoRicharderehesatdowntohismiddaymeal.Most violence, however,

occurred in the dungeons.Here, underground, in thereign of Edward I, six

hundred Jews,men and theirfamilies, were crowdedtogether in appallingconditions. Public opinionstrongly against them, theywere accused of coinclipping,scrapingmetalfromtherimsofcoins,aprofitablecrime.Theywere imprisonedfor some months, and nofewer than two hundred andsixty-seven were eventuallyhanged.

Chivalry may have playeda part on the mediaevalbattlefield;itcertainlyhadnoplace in the torture chamberof the White Tower. If aprisoner could be forced todivulge secrets which mightincriminate a rival, itmattered not whether thatprisonerwasmanorwoman.In 1545 Anne Askew wasaccused of heresy by thosewho hoped that her

confession would implicateHenry VIII’s QueenKatherine Parr. Anne, ahighly intelligent woman,was a zealous Protestant, adangerous belief to hold inthose bigoted days. She hadbeen a friend of the queen,who held the same religiousopinions – and so powerfulenemiesstruck.Arrested, imprisoned,

questioned at length by

Bonner, Bishop of London,she parried his accusationswithshrewdresponses.Butitavailedherlittle;shewassenttotheWhiteTowerandthere,in the flickering lantern-lightof the torture chamber shewas racked unmercifully forover an hour. She confessednothing. At last, her limbsstretched beyond endurance,almost senseless with agony,she was carried back to her

cell. A short time later shewas taken on a cart toSmithfield. There, before avastcrowdofcallous,jeeringonlookers, shewasburned todeath at the stake. Butsomeone, somehow, felt pityfor thepoor torturedwoman,for a bag of gunpowderinserted among the fiercelyburning logs brought hermerciful release from thesearingflames.

GunpowderprovidedreliefforAnneAskew;itspeltonlydoomtoGuyFawkesandhiscompanions in 1605. Caughtattempting to blow up theHouses of Parliament,Fawkes was yet anotherwhose tongue – and joints -were loosened as the rackpulleyscreakedandtheropesstretchedremorselessly.Afterhalf an hour’s excruciatingtormenthewasabrokenman,

naming names, admittingeverything.Theotherplotterswere rounded up and theringleaders were put to thatmost terribleofdeaths,beinghanged,drawnandquartered.If the supernatural

atmosphere of the WhiteTower was a stage, then wewouldcertainlynotwantforacastofplayers.Thosealreadymentionedarebutafewwhowould claim star parts, and

eveniftheirapparitionsfailedto materialize, surely theintensity of their sufferingscould well echo down thecenturies, just as theirscreams must havereverberated along thepassages and stairways oftheirgrimprison.Instances have been

reportedbysentriespatrollingat night, instances of hearingscreams and stifled cries of

pain through theheavydoorsat the base of the WhiteTower. And not so manyyears ago, soldiers reportedseeingthehugeshadowofanaxe spreading across TowerGreen, to stand menacinglyerect, silhouetted against thewallsoftheWhiteTower.A body of men with even

stronger nerves than thesentries - if such werepossible-aretheDepartment

of the Environment CustodyGuards, one of whose manytasks is to check securitywithin the White Towerduringthenighthours.Inthebrooding silence of the vastshadowyrooms it isnoteasytodismissacreakingnoiseasjust an old floorboard, thatcold breath of air as just adraught - especiallywhen allwindows are tightly secured!And as for a faint smell of

incense, once experienced –in 1975 – by a securitywarden – rubbish! Thoughremembering that highprelates did attend theinterrogation of hereticsunder torture, why shouldthere not be the ghost of thearomaofincense?Ofcoursetherecouldn’tbe

eyes watching malevolentlythrough the slits in thatknight’s helmet – but what

would you see if you turnedroundreallyquickly?Oh,no,theWhiteTowerat

night isnoplacefor thefaintofheart–inanycentury.

TheMartinTower

Hereinthemidmostofamodernday,

Whenclarityofthoughtanddeedholdsway,

Whatparceloffancieswiththethreadundone

Cansetman’sdignityoffattherun,

Wailingandsobbingasababeattheknee,

Toshudderatsightsnoneother

cansee.

TheMartinTower

Atthenorth-eastcorneroftheinner wall stands the MartinTower, a tower of manyghostly legends. At the turnofthecenturyitwasreportedthat a figure inwhitewalkedthe upper room, to the great

alarmof theyeomanwarders- and even in these timestherearesomeworkmenwhoarereluctanttoworkinsideit,such is its eerie atmosphere.George Boleyn, AnneBoleyn’s brother, wasimprisoned in the MartinTower, later being hanged,drawn and quartered on thevengeful instructionsofKingHenryVIII.Yet one man whose spirit

is reputed to linger aroundthis tower is one who wasacquitted and released! Theintrigue of the GunpowderPlot in 1605 involved manynames. A few are wellknown,suchasGuyFawkes,Ambrose Rookwood, FatherGerard;manyarelessknown,Winter, Wright, Kay. Onesuch latter was ThomasPercy, an active conspiratorin the Plot, a man related to

Henry Percy, ninth Earl ofNorthumberland. Upon thediscoveryoftheplot,chargeswere laid against the earl,alleging his complicity. Andso this elderly and learnedgentleman was confined intheMartinTower forno lessthan sixteen years. That hisconfinement was notparticularly arduous isevidencedbythefactthathisfamily lived with him for

someofthattime,andthatheformed a scientific andliterary circle within theTower of London, othererudite prisoners, amongthem Sir Walter Raleigh,visiting the Martin Tower todebate the finerpointsof thetimes with the ‘Wizard Earl’ashewasknown.TheEarlwas subsequently

released in1620afterpayinga£30,000fine,trulyafortune

in those days. Whilstconfinedhe tookhisexerciseon‘Northumberland’sWalk’,the battlements each side ofthe Martin Tower. Althoughhesufferedneithertorturenorsudden death, his ghost wasseen, late in the last century,by sentries who, terrified,would only mount guard inpairs. Not only that, but theinnocent passer-by has onoccasion felt unseen hands

pushhim–orher!-downthestepsbytheMartinTower.Not all happenings end so

mildly. Indeed one poorunfortunate snapped beneaththe strain of such anexperience – and paid withhislife.Hewasasentrywho,in January 1815, was onpatrol before the archeddoorwayoftheMartinTower(then the Jewel House).Midnight was striking when,

to his sudden horror, he sawthe figure of a huge bearemerge from beneath thedoor. Desperately he lungedwithhisbayonet,onlytohavethe weapon pass through theshapeandembeditself in theoaken door. His comrades,hearing the commotion,hurried to the spot – to findhimstretchedunconsciousontheground.Questionedthenextdayby

the Jewel House Keeper,MrEdmund Lenthal Swifte, thesentry was ‘trembling andhaunted by fear, a manchangedbeyondrecognition’.Withintwodayshewasdead-during which time hisbayonet still pierced theancienttimbersofthedoorhehaddiedguarding.Andsuchare thequirksof

fatethatitwasLenthalSwiftehimselfwhowas involved in

oneof theeeriestemanationsever to occur within thefortress. One cold night inOctober 1817 the Keeper ofThe Crown Jewels washaving supper in the diningroom of the Martin Tower.The three doors to the roomwere closed and heavycurtains shrouded the twowindows. His family,consisting of his wife, theirson aged seven, and his

wife’s sister, sat round theoblong table, his wife facingthe fireplace. Two candlesilluminated thescene, thoughdoubtlessafireburnedbrightas well. Mrs Swifte raised aglassofwineandwatertoherlips, then suddenlyexclaimed,‘GoodGod!Whatisthat?’Swiftelookedup–tosee what appeared to be aglass cylinder about threeinches in diameter floating

above the table; within itbluish-white fluids swirledandwrithed. It hovered then,moving slowly along, passedbehindhiswife. Immediatelyshe cowered, covering hershoulder with both hands.‘OhChrist!’ she shrieked. ‘Ithas seizedme!’That she feltsomethingwasevident,fornomirror faced her, only thefireplace, yet her sister andson saw nothing of the

appearance.MrSwifte, filledwithhorror,sprangtohisfeetand hurled his chair at thehovering apparition - to seethe tube cross the upper endof the table and disappear inthe recess of the oppositewindow.Later Mr Swifte, an

intelligent and highlyresponsibleofficial, setdowna detailed report of theoccurrence.Neveroncewhen

recounting it during lateryears did he change a singledetail – or deny the terrorwhich imprinted itself on hismemorythatdarknightintheMartinTower.Not all visitations in that

localityare,however,hostile.South of the Martin Towerand connected to it byNorthumberland’s Walk liesthe Constable Tower. Once,longago,theresidenceofthe

Constable of the Tower ofLondon,itisnowthehomeofa yeoman warder and hiswife.Overtheyearssince1973a

‘presence’ has manifesteditself. This spirit has nudgedthe wife’s arm sodeterminedly that the pensplutteredsidewaysacrossthepaper! The occupants of theConstable Tower areimmediately aware of its

arrival,because it isheraldedbyastrong‘horseman’smell,a compounded odour ofleather, of sweatinghorseflesh, - that of a riderwho, having just dismountedafter a long hard gallop,stridesintohishome.‘He’s here again!’

comments the yeomanwarder, and his wife nodsagreement. They’re notapprehensive for, far from

being hostile, this spiritgeneratesawarmfriendliness-ararityindeedintheTowerofLondon!

TheSaltTower

ThereisamerrieEnglandOfacompactsphere,Thatdwellethhere

WithintheTowerofLondon.Merrieenoughiftherebegain

Atplainman’storture,Lover’spain,Liar’sshriek,honesty’sprayer,Andthesignetofbloodonfloor

andstair.Sopauseasyego,thinkasye

stand,Oftheflutteringkerchief,Theenfeebledhand.Didyenotseethem?Saynowforsure,Foraghostmadenotwelcome,

Appeareththemore.

The Salt Tower guards thesouth-eastcorneroftheInnerWard. Originally it couldonly be entered via thebattlements, as could theBeauchamp Tower andothers. The lower room

therefore was a dark andnoisome dungeon, halfunderground, though theupper cells were little better.Dating from the thirteenthcentury,ittooconfinedmanyprisoners behind its grimwalls. Most of them wereJesuit priests, caught in thereligious persecutions of thesixteenth and earlyseventeenth centuries. Onesuch was Henry Walpole, a

young Englishman. He hadwitnessed the execution ofJesuit priests, men who hadbeenterriblytorturedfortheirCatholic beliefs. Thisspectacle,atatimewhenthiscountry was at war withSpain, only inspiredWalpoleto take over their task.Already converted, hebecame a Jesuit and in 1589he joined the Spanish Armyin Flanders, as a chaplain.

FouryearslaterhereturnedtofurthertheCatholiccause.Hewas captured and sent to theTower of London. Thereevery effort was made toextractinformationfromhim.Despite being racked manytimes he remained silent. Hewas imprisoned in the SaltTower and there on the coldstone walls he carved hisname and those of the saintswho gave him the strength

and fortitude of soul toendure the torture andconfinement.Atlast,in1595,he was taken to York wherehe was tried and executed,probably by being burnedalive.Onelateafternoonin1973

a yeoman warder visited theSalt Tower. He had recentlybeenreadingabookabouttheJesuits, a book whichdiscredited their principles

and condemned them astraitors. He mounted thenarrow winding stairs and,aloneinthegatheringgloom,he studied the inscriptions solaboriouslycarvedbytorturedhands. Without warning, asudden glow illuminated theprison chamber - and he feltsome‘thing’touchhimontheback of the neck! For onemomenthestoodfrozenwithfear – then hardly knowing

what he was doing he fleddownthespiralstairsandoutofthearcheddoorway.Itwassome considerable time laterthathewasabletocontrolhisracingpulsesandcalmdown.Yeoman warders are notgiven to imagining things -butthebook,needlesstosay,isnolongerinhispossession!Nor is it only sensations

which pervade this particulartower.On12thJanuary1957,

soon after midnight, twoguardsmen on sentry dutysaw a shapeless white formhigh up on the battlementedroof of the Salt Tower. Astheystaredunbelievingly,theapparition lingered - thenslowlyfadedaway!Just a few yards from the

Salt Tower stands the newHistory Gallery. Before itsfoundations were laid,excavations took place

alongside the base of theRomanWallthere.Atadepthof more than fifteen feet agrave was discovered in1976, a grave containing theskeletonof ayoungman.Helay on his back, his kneesslightly bent, his handscrossedbeforehim.Hisheadwastiltedtooneside-andintheskullgapedanuglyhole.Whowashe,thisIronAge

youthwho had lain there for

nearly two thousand years,makinghistheearliesthumanremainstohavebeenfoundtodate within the City? Howdifferent was his life fromours?Howviolenthisdeath-andwhy?And will his spirit return,

to drift phantomlike in thedim recesses of the HistoryGallery, to reproach thosewho dared to violate his lastrestingplace?

Conclusion

Iwouldsmilemeasmile,Singmeasong,DancemeadanceAsthedayislong.

ButwhowouldIpartner,Deathordelight?

Nowthatisthequestion….Thatisthefright!

Most of the uncannyhappeningswithin theTowerof London have beenexperienced by sentries andyeomanwarders.Thisisquiteunderstandable,theybeingonduty in the Tower grounds

during the traditionalhaunting times, the hours ofdarkness.But should you, dear

reader, visit the Tower ofLondon, do not get theimpression that you areexempt from similarexperiences; do not think foroneminute that thePastwillnot reachout and tapyouonthe shoulder, to remind youof the horrors and violence

enacted within this mosthistoricofcastles.Within and around the

towers the memories linger,waiting perhaps to revealthemselves to those whosethoughts or sympathies maybereceptivetothem.A candle flame is almost

invisibleinthesunlight-butitisstill there.Soit iswith theGhosts of the Tower ofLondon - and if you look

where the shadows linger, inthecorners,roundthestairs–youmayseethemtoo.

SelectBibliography

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