IN THE WALLS OF SAXMUNDHAM NUNNERY M F Kerford The hysteria surrounding the demolition of the ruins of the thousand year

old nunnery on the road from Saxmundham to Wickham Market was thankfully short-lived. Initially it was unanimously condemned by all who cared about the architecture and its contribution to our natural heritage. It would have been far worse if the public had learnt the true nature of the events that took place on All Hallows Eve. In particular, any suggestion that the legend of St Wulfrida was founded in reality would have resulted in more publicity than the authorities could handle. On the night the ruins were demolished, eye-witnesses claimed to have seen naked figures fleeing the site in an attempt to escape to the cover of the woods. They alleged these fugitives had struggled through the protective netting, flopping and shambling in a curious manner. They were restrained by the authorities and dragged back into the ruins before the explosion. This was denied by the police who suggested that the many observers abroad that evening in sinister capes and cowls might have added to the horror-story atmosphere. The regional tourism association, conservation bodies, the Church and other stakeholders had expressed their concern when the demolition was authorised but they kept quiet afterwards. Silence was guaranteed when they were forced to sign official secrets documents. I know this since, as the Bishop who represented the Church at the implosion, I was under orders to say nothing. The police superintendent in charge affirmed that what took place was a straightforward demolition job on dangerous ruins and no human lives had been at risk. At the end of the exercise, Saxmundham Nunnery had been levelled to the ground with the site off-limits to the public, guarded by a large detachment of police for some weeks before it was re-opened. During this period numerous white-coated technicians came and went, taking various samples from the site. After some months, when the police were withdrawn and visitors were allowed back into the grounds of Saxmundham Nunnery, they found that many areas still remained off-limit and behind fences. The ground had been turned over and the graveyard which served the nuns was no longer overgrown. It had been carefully weeded and re-planted with spring flowers in the disturbed earth. The gravestones themselves were upright, suggesting they had been removed and carefully replaced.

IN THE WALLS OF SAXMUNDHAM NUNNERY

Speculation - outr in the main - appeared in the sensationalist press. In general, however, the media toed the government line and stayed away from the subject. People who visited the area personally heard rumours and theories and were treated to eye witness accounts. These exchanges may have been totally convincing at first hand and listeners had not the slightest doubt that they were authentic and their authors truthful. Their conviction wavered - not surprisingly - when they returned home. In general, the subject was treated with silence, scepticism and closed minds. In speaking out now, I am aware that I am inviting punitive action by the authorities. I also realise that I may awaken debate as to the legitimacy and morality of the action taken. Guilty as charged. But when I have told my story, you will see why I am obliged to voice my ethical concerns. Saxmundham Nunnery is beautifully situated near the north-eastern extremity of the District. The view is impressive and awe-inspiring. Walkers can enjoy the beauty of the area as they stroll along rural laneways. The ruins had not been restored since they were made derelict during the Reformation. Enough documents survive to enable us to map out where was the site of the cloister garden. The soil in the northern portion of the parish is rich and well cultivated and the kitchen garden would have satisfied many of the nutritional needs of the Nunnery. Though the ruins were of historic and ecclesiastical interest, I visited them rarely. I was conscious of their significance but I never found this a suitable spot for self-reflection. I invariably had the impression of being watched. That made me feel uncomfortable and cold even when the day was warm. There is an even more enchanting view in the evening when the ruins stand stark against the moonlight. But there is no incentive to tarry. There have been reports of wailing and strange, half-seen movement. Though the ruins had been in a state of disrepair for centuries it was only after a property developer sought permission to build residences on adjacent land that demolition was put on the agenda. Was corruption involved? One might have thought that the view of the ruins would have made the dwellings more distinctive and desirable. So why did they have to go? Or had the developer heard the dark rumours and feared the effect on the property value ? After Council passed its ruling, private briefings were held with interested parties. Local government and the police took human rights organisations into their confidence. The media was fully informed. Objections were largely restricted to the letters pages and fringe Internet newsgroup coverage.

194

IN THE WALLS OF SAXMUNDHAM NUNNERY

The Followers of Sister Wulfrida - and their new leader, Simon Strabbock - were the most vocal. This body sought canonisation for the eponymous Nun who had lived in the Nunnery in the twelfth century. Any interference with the ancient ruins where she dwelt was anathema to them. They were one of those eccentric groupings of which England is so frequently the progenitor. Like Arthurian Conspiracy theorists, they were a single-issue community, with fanatical if docile members. Where they differed was that they were geographically based, membership drawn exclusively from the Saxmundham District. They claimed direct descent from the original inhabitants of Coddenham, where Sister Wulfrida was born and raised. These days this is a prosperous middle-class village less than an hour from Ipswich. The Followers subscribed to the bizarre notion that Sister Wulfrida had not died but had been preserved
alive in the ruins which she roamed, seeking justice. This and the fact that they dressed in mediaeval habits

exposed them to ridicule. Caped and cowled, they took it in turns to keep a nightly vigil at the ruins of the Saxmundham Nunnery. On All Hallows Eve - a day they had renamed Saint Wulfridas Day - all members spent the whole night there. This was something they had reportedly done for eight centuries, waiting for their Saint to make an appearance. Their behaviour was little reported outside the immediate catchment area despite its enduring history. However, Im running ahead and mentioning people and events to which I have not yet introduced you. Lets go back to the beginning. Our story begins with the sad case of Wulfrida of Coddenham, who in 1178 was very close to taking her final vows at the Nunnery in the Parish of St Stephen. This was in the reign of Henry II, in a year marked by the death of Thomas Beckett. England was always a hotbed of political, social and religious intrigue. The racial and cultural composition of the country had been fundamentally altered when William the Conqueror united all under one crown in 1066. Division and distrust were already features of community life. Wulfrida was the daughter of a middle class Saxon family in Coddenham, her father a relatively wellto-do tanner. She had been fair even as a child. As she grew older so she grew in comeliness. By the age of fifteen she was the most beautiful maiden in the County. This led Henry de Stradbroke, a rich landowner, to bid for her hand. The oldest son of five, he had been wed before but his wife had died bearing twins. Wulfrida, being of healthy stock, would be the perfect companion to share his house and lands and bear his children.

195

IN THE WALLS OF SAXMUNDHAM NUNNERY

Word of her pulchritude and the attentions of de Stradbroke spread so far that it reached the ears of Bishop Anselm. His Grace discovered - coincidentally - that his duties necessitated an obligation to visit the Parish. To the surprise of the priest and his entire village, the Bishop and his entourage arrived unannounced. The dignitaries of Coddenham - including Henry de Stradbroke and his fiance - were presented to him. A mere fortnight later the Bishop conferred on Henry the honour of leading a small army to provide protection against the Turkish barbarians attacking and preying on pilgrims visiting the Holy Land. The parting was poignant and sudden. A few weeks later news reached Wulfrida via a Bishops emissary that her betrothed had been killed in the distant land. Distraught, she entered the Nunnery. The truth was that Henry had merely been wounded by an arrow in the shoulder and there were those who swore it was not Turkish. His wound was only superficial and as he was a strong man, a few weeks in a tent, buoyed by thoughts of his beloved, saw him recover. His tour of service at an end, he headed home. Any anticipation of joyous reunion was dashed. He was devastated to learn that his beloved had entered the Nunnery, believing him dead. He immediately demanded to see her but was stalled by the Mother Superior as the Nunnery housed a closed order. Once inside, Nuns renounced contact with the outside world. Henry argued that he deserved a special dispensation as Wulfrida had entered falsely believing he was dead. His argument was ignored. During these times women enjoyed no political power. They had no vote in Church or civic affairs. They were unable to seek ordination. At best they were seen as little more than animals. In any dispute between a man and a woman, the magistrate would automatically accept the man's version. The suppression of women led to their being very much second-class citizens. It also meant they were subject to abuse without redress. Generally, this was not a problem in the Church as celibacy was supposed to reign. In reality, there were exceptions. Human nature is human nature and the Saxons were hot-blooded. Having recently faced death, Henry was disinclined to restrain himself. Feeling that he and his beloved were receiving unfair treatment, he vowed to use force to enter the Nunnery and rescue his fiance. Hearing of the young man's disquiet, the Bishop sent two of his tougher envoys to discourage him. Used only to dealing with the rabble of the parish they were unprepared for one skilled in the arts of battle. Their attempts to intimidate him met with stern resolve and both returned to Lavenham with broken heads.

196

IN THE WALLS OF SAXMUNDHAM NUNNERY

Suspicious now that the Bishop - and by implication the Nunnery - had something to hide, Henry returned to the village of Coddenham where his wealth and respect soon elicited support from the villagers. A makeshift army marched to the Nunnery where they demanded to be let in. The Bishop's armed guards offered cursory resistance but Henry was a fearsome and headstrong leader and weight of numbers prevailed. The villagers examined every cell and dormitory in the Nunnery - to the shrieking discomfort of the Nuns - but there was no sign of Sister Wulfrida. Whatever the truth about her admittance, the fact was she was no longer there. What they did find, however, was incidence of sexual misconduct on a gross scale. The unusual circumstances in a Nunnery where so many young women were in close confinement undoubtedly aggravated sexual frustration and deprivation. In his work "De Praestigiis Daemonum" the German doctor de Weier reported being one of the members of an investigating committee sent in 1565 to enquire into the case of "diabolic possession" among the nuns of a convent in Cologne. Their convulsions exhibited several features betraying their erotic origin. During the attacks, the nuns would lie on their backs with closed eyes and their abdomens elevated. What that the villagers of Coddenham observed inside the walls of Saxmundham Nunnery was one of the earlier manifestations of such abhorrent conduct. Such behaviour seems disgusting and repulsive these days but it needs to be seen in historical context. The first Christian missionaries to Britain had found this island people to be extremely liberal concerning sexual matters. As early as the eighth century Boniface had lamented that the English "utterly despise matrimony and continue to live in lechery and adultery after the manner of neighing horses and braying asses...." A century later Alcuin declared that "the land has been absolutely submerged under flood of fornication, adultery and incest". While the Church imposed its severe code it never quite succeeded in obtaining full acceptance of its sexual constraints. Some historians suggest that the resultant repression may have been a cause of some of the outbreaks of frenzy that characterised the Middle Ages. When womenfolk adhered to the Church's instructions and refrained form sexual relations, they experienced delusions, hallucinations and hysterical manifestations. Their men - thwarted - turned to perverted and unspeakable alternatives. Not the least of these were incest, homosexuality and bestiality. Public self-abuse was commonplace. As much as five hundred years later, Chaucer's portraits of the fourteenth century showed that some such as the Wife of Bath seized sexual opportunity without inhibition. Maddened by sexual jealousy, Henry suspected the Bishop had carried off Wulfrida for his own lustful purposes. For a Bishop with almost total power over his flock, opportunities for sexual adventure were

197

IN THE WALLS OF SAXMUNDHAM NUNNERY

limitless. True, a young maiden who had taken a vow of chastity would have resisted the entreaties of a lecher. Yet it would have been a simple matter to have her drugged and restrained while he had his way with her. Henrys suspicions were aggravated by the prevailing hypocrisy. There was a culture of do-what-I-say rather than do-what-I-do. Religious centres were often hotbeds of sexuality. Powerful Church dignitaries abused their positions for sexual favours and dominance, assisted by those who aspired to higher office and saw their assistance as the route to advancement. It was a time of abuse of position, patronage, power and advantage-taking where many young and helpless females were concerned. Complaints of sexual harassment were routinely dismissed. The women violated were castigated as hysterics and often subjected to punishment. If the truth came out they were portrayed as liars, temptresses or witches. Complaints were routinely hushed up, especially when dignitaries were involved. The problem came when conception occurred. Then it was not so easy to brush off any allegations. In such cases the usual solution was to procure an abortion. Most villages, Saxmundham included, had wise women who could use herbal infusions or sometimes primitive surgery to remove the living foetus from the womb of the unfortunate girl. In all cases those involved would keep their counsel under the threat of grave repercussions on both sides of the grave. If the pregnancy was too far advanced and the offspring of such an unholy union were born alive it would be whisked off to a childless family in a neighbouring parish. If stillborn it would be quietly buried. On some occasions, even a live child might disappear in a sack and be found floating in the river some days later or be left overnight on a grassy knoll. The chances were that the infant would expire of natural causes thus absolving those responsible from direct charges of murder. Regarding disposal of the evidence - well, as mentioned earlier - Suffolk was the last county in England where wolves roamed free and they might have on occasion have been presented with an unusually toothsome repast. In response to Henrys heated accusations, the Mother Superior denied anything untoward had taken place. Now she changed her story, reporting that on All Hallows Eve the Novice had simply taken her leave of the Nunnery of her own free will under cover of darkness. Sister Wulfrida had found the constraints of cloistered life too arduous and restrictive. This story did not ring true and Henry was unable to rest. He could not believe his beloved would have suspended her vocation so close to final vows without seeking spiritual guidance. Nor was the prudent

198

IN THE WALLS OF SAXMUNDHAM NUNNERY

Wulfrida likely to have ventured out alone. These were dangerous times. Religion was a touchy subject. There were threats of revolution, invasion and religious unrest. All mediaeval buildings were fortified as if they were castles. Even on a practical level, she could not have passed through the walls at night without attracting the attention of the gatekeeper. Though he doubted the Mother Superiors story, Henry rode throughout the County in search of Wulfrida. He questioned everyone he met but his enquiries were in vain. The events proceeded relentlessly - as might have been foreseen - towards tragedy. Having exhausted all other possibilities, Henry and his makeshift army stormed the Bishop's palace to search for Wulfrida there. They found the fortified building well defended by soldiers and archers - a more difficult nut to crack. The villagers lost several men and their appetite for the fight. They retreated. Frontal assault was not the answer. A distraught Henry, now a sole crusader, waited until Bishop Anselm was on his way to Walsingham and ambushed him in the woods near Coddenham. Having cracked the heads of the driver and guard of the carriage he interrogated the cleric in a rough and ruthless fashion. The Bishop swore he knew nothing about the whereabouts of Wulfrida but Henry did not believe him and left the cleric crippled and blinded. Within a week he was arrested, arraigned and publicly hanged, putting him out of his misery. Thus Coddenham lost both a daughter and a son.

II

Every region has its legends, mysteries and strange occurrences and there is no shortage recorded in Suffolk. The county has a brooding air and distinctive landscape. Its people are perhaps more gullible and superstitious than most. So talk of frightful visions is not as rare as it would be in more worldly parts of the country. The ruins have been associated with all manner of supernatural events over the centuries - poltergeist activity, pebble-throwing, cold spots, wall writing, objects being moved and mysterious appearances and disappearances. Natural phenomena such as "Will O' The Wisp" or shooting stars are given a more supernatural interpretation by Suffolk observers. When such tales were at their height they proved a stout

199

IN THE WALLS OF SAXMUNDHAM NUNNERY

discouragement to poachers to venture into forbidden fields and thickets. Perhaps they were circulated by landowners with just that aim in mind. Whatever the truth of the matter, historically, there have been reports of strange noises sent by the devil and witness of gravestones moving outside Saxmundham Nunnery. Milder rumours confined themselves to the ruins being haunted by the wraith of the Nun. More outlandish testimony involved shambling devil creatures feasting on corpses and wild animals or burrowing into fresh graves. Mystics ascribed the unusual events to the intervention of witches, goblins or malevolent spirits. A more prosaic explanation was that these occurrences were caused by the shifting of the ground. The crypt - whose entrance was in the North Transept - had been extended in Norman times. It was subject to flooding when the water table was high after sustained rain, a problem suffered by other ancient buildings such as Winchester Cathedral. In 1390 the spire was extended. It was perilous work with bamboo scaffolding over a hundred feet high perched on the outer walls. Not surprisingly, there were casualties. Two workers disappeared while they were still up the scaffolding and their bodies were never found. The official excuse was that they had absconded. Then another fell to his death. While there was a mess on the ground where he had landed there was no sign of flesh and bone by the time his fellow-workers had descended. In the Middle Ages there were avowed cases of miracle cures, a feature of all holy places which may owe less to religion than to statistics. The more visitors to a shrine, the more cures will result. While the number of disappointed pilgrims will similarly rise, they do not make the headlines - only those cured. A child cured of blindness, a beggar given food when he was at the point of expiry, a dead Monk restored to life. In the sixteenth century the Mother Superior of the time was so troubled by the endless scratchings in the walls that she summoned the best ratcatcher in the realm. He had laid his traps by removing a small cornerstone - no bigger than a fist and laying poisoned cheese there. Next morning the cheese was gone but the trap was not sprung and the noises continued. Henry VIII attempted to sack the Nunnery but the militia billeted there did not stay long. A superstitious bunch, they whispered about demons. It is conjectured that they put to death certain dwellers they found inhabiting parts of the Nunnery. Whatever the facts, their stay was short-lived and they succeeded

200

IN THE WALLS OF SAXMUNDHAM NUNNERY

only in effecting superficial damage to the fabric of the building before their commanding officer moved them to a more comfortable billet on the Welsh border. Silly Suffolk (selig is German for blessed) remained a religious county. Repeated invasion by Danes and Normans made its people nervous, passionate about privacy and suspicious of outsiders. This meant that in many ways they were insulated from modern thinking and beliefs. Folktales still held sway in the smaller villages. This part of the country also has a well-documented history of Witchcraft. It was in villages such as Brandeston, Hoxne and Lavenham - that the self-styled Witchfinder General, Matthew Hopkins plied his evil trade during the English Civil War. Not that there was the slightest suggestion that Sister Wulfrida was a Witch. Far from it. The Followers may have been alone in believing her to be a Saint but it was commonly held that she was a martyr. These were in any case troubled times for the Church in general and in this area in particular. In 1642 a meteorite landed in nearby Aldeborough and the more superstitious parishioners were convinced it was a sign of ill-omen. That year the harvest failed due to abnormally heavy rains. Crops lay rotting in the fields. With the harvest adversely affected, food shortages followed but worse was to come. Many peasants became star-struck and there was an incidence of brain fever, fits and hallucinations. There was no time to recover before the plague struck, causing many local deaths in 1646. Those infected were shut in their own homes with their terrified families or incarcerated in pesthouses. Graveyards were soon full and the Church turned the newly dead away, consigning them to mass graves in unhallowed ground. A cross was painted on the doors of those houses affected by the plague. Carts were driven around the empty streets with their drivers shouting 'bring out your dead', carrying corpses to burial pits. The result was general hostility towards the Church and clergy for treating the infected as outcasts rather than victims mitigated when Saxmundham Nunnery opened its gates to those seeking Christian burial. Structural problems came to the fore in the eighteenth century when cracks appeared in the fabric of the south and east sides of the Nunnery. There was consequential subsidence resulting in the collapse of much of the masonry. It was feared that, in time, the building might collapse unless major underpinning of the foundations was carried out but for one reason or another repair work had always been deferred. When a portion of the walls collapsed in the mid 19th Century, bones were discovered that were not quite human. The explanation was that they were from one of the older graves which had subsided.

201

IN THE WALLS OF SAXMUNDHAM NUNNERY

Cattle mutilations were rife in the early twentieth century. Cows were not carried off so there was no suggestion of rustling. Instead they were mauled and limbs torn off. Saner counsel suggested wolves were to blame. As recently as World War II, the Nunnery was the subject of a direct hit by a German bomb some miles off target from Harwich Harbour. The bomb damaged a corner of the east wing, throwing bones and shattered gravestones into disarray. Specialist stonemasons were called in to effect repairs. Certain stones were removed and replaced and parts of the walls were reinforced. It was during this work that the so-called Saxmundham Chronicle was found - an ancient document, scarcely readable after centuries of decay, rolled up inside a brass cylinder. The author was one of Sister Wulfridas fellow novices who had either learnt or surmised what had happened. On her deathbed - when the Mother Superior was already seven years cold in her grave, - she committed her account to manuscript. It remained concealed in the Nunnery buildings until the arrival of Goerings aircraft. Some antiquarians labelled it a clever forgery. The Followers adopted it as the proof they needed of the sainthood of Wulfrida. It told a gruesome tale about the events of 1178. The Mother Superior had noticed that Wulfrida was with child. She assumed that Bishop Anselm had taken his pleasure with the novice at a time when he was giving her spiritual guidance. For once she did not involve any of the village hags in procuring an abortion. First she took advantage of the hapless Sister Wulfrida herself, performing certain acts against her will in return for silence. Perhaps she too loved the fair maiden and jealousy was as much her motive as protecting the interests of the Bishop. As Wulfridas pregnancy advanced, however, so the likelihood increased of awkward questions. She took drastic steps. While she could not bring herself to contemplate deliberate murder, she had found a solution which while ingenious was if anything far crueller. Saxmundham Nunnery was having its fortifications renewed and strengthened. Like many other buildings at the time the entire edifice was given a second skin . The outer walls were built three feet thick to withstand assault. Thus even if a siege army were to breach the outer walls they would still have much to accomplish to gain entry. The space between the two sets of walls was used as a repository for certain relics and parchments to add spiritual to physical protection. It also became the repository of Sister Wulfrida. The Mother Superior commanded the stonemason to wall up the Novice and her unborn baby alive. His tongue was cut out so he

202

IN THE WALLS OF SAXMUNDHAM NUNNERY

could not tell anyone what he had done. Being illiterate he could neither read nor write so he had no way of conveying what he had seen and done. The discovery of this important document revitalised The Followers. They declared All Hallows Eve to be St Wulfridas Day. The re-instituted the tradition of an annual procession from Coddenham to the Nunnery to commemorate Henrys ingress and laid flowers at the gate in memory of Wulfrida. The disturbances at Saxmundham Nunnery continued into modern times. Villagers complained of curious and unwanted visitors in the early morning, naked and moving with a strange loping gait, stealing bottles of milk or loaves of bread from their doorsteps. The less superstitious and more cynical held that gypsies or feral youth were the likely candidates. The young lovers of the region, notorious for their unbridled libido and dedication to venereal experimentation anywhere on a relatively flat surface, kept away from the gravestones and the soft mossy beds that intersected them. The Followers bided their time. Apart from an occasional article about eccentrics in the popular dailies, they stayed off the radar. They had no political agenda, they were for something rather than against something and their cause was received largely with indifference. Animal rights activists attempted to make something of their alleged occasional live sacrifice but there was no evidence. They found easier pickings in the laboratories of Cambridge and the guinea pig farms which supplied them. There was a brief flowering of interest in the seventies . All things mystic, ghosts, aliens and the like enjoyed a partial renaissance. Crop Circles and UFO sightings brought visitors to otherwise undistinguished towns like Warminster and even neighbouring Cobbs Corner. Saxmundham was temporarily in vogue. Behind the scenes, The Followers took the persistent reports of disturbances at the ruins as a sign that Sister Wulfrida was alive and still working miracles. From being essentially a fan-club, they changed their agenda to propose that she remained physically alive. The local newspaper dismissed their belief a little more flippantly than decorum deserved. "She was walled up alone. It's unthinkable that she could have survived for eight hundred years. That leaves us only with the idea of a ghost and such superstition is out of place in the modern era." From controversy about ghosts, the debate soon turned to the question of the buildings protected status. The area around the Nunnery was prime land. Property developers began to covet it. Local people were horrified at the thought of historic buildings being surrounded by vulgar condominiums but there were the

203

IN THE WALLS OF SAXMUNDHAM NUNNERY

prospects of broadening the council tax net. Applications from developers were routinely dismissed until the late nineties. Thats when a local councillor claimed to have encountered a goblin while making his way home. Elsewhere, such an allegation would have been taken with a large pinch of salt. But Suffolk took easily to such a claim. It catapulted the ruins back into public consciousness. The councillor in question was a soak of note. He was taking a short cut home after a nights drinking at The Bell. On arriving home he was sober and hysterical. He had seen the gravestones move and an evil goblin had emerged from the ruins to bar his way. It made bestial, guttural noises. I could not help thinking that after a night in The Bell, the goblin might have had reciprocal difficulty in understanding the councillors broad accent aggravated by slurring of words. Nonetheless he was insistent that the goblin was malevolent and he kept it at bay with a stick. He described it as small, hunched, pale and naked with an evil face and pronounced sexual organs, a description a local wag suggested might fit most adult males within a twenty-mile radius. This was no laughing matter for The Followers. They saw the goblin or leprechaun as a supernatural emissary, a defender of their heroine. To them it was fresh evidence that Sister Wulfrida was indeed still alive. Unfortunately for their cause, the story played into the hands of the property developer. Perhaps it had been staged. Investigations showed that seasonal rains had again flooded the ancient foundations and the moving gravestones might be founded in fact. The authorities enlisted the services of so-called experts. Various building surveyors and scientists visited the ruins and pronounced them a menace to public safety. In view of the danger - and to protect the site from further damage - the local authority declared the site unsafe and announced an intention to demolish the buildings. They were unable to do anything more as the ruins were protected. But a process had been set in motion whereby the Nunnery might lose its protected status. That would make it easier for the developer to take advantage.

III

204

IN THE WALLS OF SAXMUNDHAM NUNNERY

These events prompted The Followers to step up their strident protests. They were aided in this regard by Simon Strabbock who appeared overnight on the scene and revolutionised the profile of The Followers. There was no power struggle as so often happens in these organisations. He was accepted as the natural leader, despite his personal shortcomings. His posture was stooped through curvature of the spine and he walked in an unusual crabbing fashion. A brilliant strategist, he was nonetheless a poor communicator so others in The Followers had to explain or expand on what he had said. Little was known about him, though the organisation claimed he had been a student activist. His turned up the volume by urging members that they had the right to be more aggressive and go on the offensive. From being passive and introverted, The Followers took their case to various authorities, including myself. They demanded to know how demolishing such a historic building could be in the public interest. Why, they asked, could not less drastic measures be contemplated ? Strabbock went so far as to suggest that the experts were carefully selected for their sympathy towards the property developer. The local press - possibly fearing a loss of advertising if they took sides - shied away from the low profile. Outside media, less constrained by the prohibitions and entreaties of local authorities, speculated as to what might really lie behind the decision to demolish the ruins. They pushed the Strabbock line that bringing down the walls of Saxmundham Nunnery amounted to irresponsibility and vandalism. They made the point that the leaning tower of Pisa was still standing, despite being dangerous. So was the old Coventry Cathedral. In both cases, public safety was preserved by not allowing anyone inside, not by knocking them down. Preservationist groups entered the fray, fresh from invoking historic building legislation before the highest courts of the European Union. They lent their weight to the campaign but their submissions were summarily dismissed. For once, the authorities held firm across local, national and international lines. There was a cordon sanitaire of silence. Strabbock ascribed this to European Union complicity in wanting to eliminate British national culture and supplant it with Europeanism. Such state-sponsored iconoclasm had its precedent - he averred - in the destruction of the Euston Arch, Brighton Pier and the Twin Towers of Wembley. The public safety argument was spurious as this aim could just as easily be preserved by barriers to keep people at a distance. In fact this had been the solution adopted by the authorities in the interim years. Now, their argument was that the rains had weakened the foundations to a critical level and the urgency of remedial action mitigated

205

IN THE WALLS OF SAXMUNDHAM NUNNERY

against any delay. With immediate effect the public were kept well away from the ruins behind police barriers. Only those with binoculars or night glasses had an inkling of what was taking place and even then their view was obscured by protective screens. With consummate irony - by design or accident - the date set for the implosion was St Wulfridas Day. The Followers of Sister Wulfrida were devastated. Even a sweetener in the form of a substantial grant by the local government for the establishment of a museum did nothing to still their disquiet. This was a violation of her shrine. The Councillors in favour of development stirred up the village old-timers to whisper their stories. There were hushed hints that the "old troubles" had returned. Doomsayers had long since held that the ruins provided shelter for frightful, hybrid creatures which surfaced from time to time to savage the Suffolk sheep gently grazing in nearby meadows. Such rumours undermined the seriousness of the protests. Sympathy for the conservationists had declined after a live sacrifice the previous All Hallows Eve. Curiously, it was not The Followers who left a frightened goat tethered in the graveyard. It was allegedly villagers who believed they needed to appease evil spirits. It might have been orchestrated by the developers. Either way, the local priest condemned their action and The Followers objected strongly but no-one had the courage to enter the ruins and free the animal on that dark and ominous night. It was a festival marked only by early-to-bed and double locked doors on the part of the peasantry. However, formal complaints were laid with the RSPCA and the local police. When they arrived the next morning, the tether was still there but there was nothing on the end of it. This handed the authorities a much-needed pretext for intervention. To have acted on allegations of supernatural activity would have invited ridicule. To ignore the signs that something irregular was going on would have been irresponsible. On the one hand the villagers were saying Do something about these ruins there are evil forces at play. Conversely, The Followers were pleading Do nothing about these ruins - our 800 year old martyr still roams there. From the moment the conflict ignited, the Nunnery was doomed. There is no place in modern Britain for anything that cannot be catalogued, categorised or regulated and the authorities are constantly seeking reasons to justify their existence. The Church too, from being decisive and ruled by principles has moved to a politically correct fuzzylogic mode to allow it waver with the latest trends. Perhaps this is why it is falling out of step with many of its

206

IN THE WALLS OF SAXMUNDHAM NUNNERY

rural parishioners. Opinions had been polarised in this community since time immemorial. This apparent evidence that Wulfrida had been abused by Church dignitaries had provided ammunition in the struggle between the Church of Rome and the Church of England. To the present day it was invoked in religious arguments. The current debate might have been confined to local and ecclesiastical media. It could have faded off the public radar had it not been for the heavy-handed action of the authorities and the subsequent blanket on publicity. How can a building that stood for nearly a millennium suddenly crumble and become dangerous? The concern that the ruins might fall and injure visitors was dismissed by the media as paranoia on the part of a nanny state terrified of compensation claims. Now given the latest situation, the authorities had set a date to take drastic action. The Council had obtained the necessary authorisation for the destruction of the ruins, in the interests of public safety. There was of course, another dimension - the spiritual. I felt it incumbent on me - as the current Bishop - to take a strong lead and I made my voice heard. I had been moved by the reports of supernatural activities and I was troubled. I was also appalled by the dreadful waste of architectural treasure which an implosion would mean, though the Church no longer had the muscle to halt the march of commercial development. That didnt however stop me from making my point during a newspaper interview. I had a good relationship with the press. It wasnt only that I was always willing to give them a quote on matters of faith or morals. They had known me in my earlier years as a curate when I had played rugby for the county. One effect of my public pronouncement was a telephone call from a police superintendent requesting a private briefing. There I was given certain information and was urged to take a less aggressive line on the issue. Public safety was indeed an issue but there was more behind the demolition issue than unsafe buildings. He made me privy to an astonishing confidence and committed me to silence on the subject.. From that moment on, I became morally troubled. My interview also twitched the antennae of The Followers. Simon Strabbock requested a meeting. I
was not keen to meet him. The hostility of The Followers towards the Bishopric was longstanding. They accused my predecessor of abusing their Saint and then having her murdered. Over the ages there had been demonstrations, marches and the palace had been defiled. My Secretary indicated that I was not disposed towards a meeting but Strabbock

207

IN THE WALLS OF SAXMUNDHAM NUNNERY

persisted. Eventually, I weakened and charity prevailed. I might not like the strange behaviour of The Followers but they were believers and parishioners and it was my duty to attend to all, not just those I favoured. In a telephone call he informed me that new evidence had appeared which had shown the Church to be innocent. He no longer wanted us to be at loggerheads but believed that after centuries of conflict we now had a common interest. was surprised that the leader of The Followers saw common ground with the established Church but desperate times forge strange alliances. With his letter h e enclosed two prints. One was an artists impression of the fair

Wulfrida. The other was a disturbing woodcut dating back to the reign of Henry VII. It showed what appeared to be cattle mutilations with the Nunnery in the background. Gravestones stood at awkward angles as if moles or other subterranean creatures had made the ground uneven. It resonated in uncanny fashion with what the police superintendent had told me. Strabbock requested permission to accompany me to the ruins when they were sent tumbling. This required police permission but a call to the police superintendent arranged it as quidpro-quo for my docility and discretion. Arriving on the evening train from Ipswich, I stepped onto the platform at Saxmundham Station as dusk was approaching. The railway had arrived in these quiet parts in 1859. In its heyday it boasted a thriving goods trade and was the junction for the branch line to industrial Leiston as well as the coastal holiday resorts of Aldeburgh and Thorpeness. I glanced across at the line of railway cottages in Albion Road. How prosaic it all seemed in contrast to the reported events that had brought me here. My reverie was interrupted by a klaxon. Simon Strabbock sat behind the wheel of an ancient Ford Anglia parked perilously close to the level crossing. We shook hands briefly. He was an interesting hirsute and assertive young man in his mid thirties, with a straggly beard, shaggy eyebrows, long hair, tied at the back in a pony tail, long nose, pointed teeth and weak, watery eyes. Dressed in his cowl and brown cassock, he walked with a pronounced stoop as reported in the press - a cartoonist's dream. At the same time, his exaggerated features did not prevent him from being handsome. He had a commanding presence and there was a nobility about his overall appearance. Strabbock parked at The Bell Hotel, a regular stop on the London to Yarmouth run when coaches criss-crossed these islands. Rebuilt in 1842 it occupies a site which has hosted Inns for many centuries. Perhaps Sister Wulfrida once rested nearby?

208

IN THE WALLS OF SAXMUNDHAM NUNNERY

"The locals are a suspicious bunch and they are distrustful of strangers," he told me over dinner. He spoke about them in the third person though he was clearly a local himself. His diction was halting, aggravated by a lisp and an occasional stutter. He pronounced many words in an unusual fashion like someone who learnt English as a foreign language or as a deaf person might articulate them. Perhaps it is not without reason, I responded. Some of the events that occurred in this area would have tried the patience of even the most gentle countryfolk. I am aware that Suffolk lamb tastes best when cooked pink but I did not care for the way he ordered his chops extra-rare. The chef might just as well have delivered them straight from the butchers slab. Strabbock wolfed them down hungrily, helping them on their way with a bottle of robust Burgundy. After each mouthful he bared his teeth and sucked in air. It was much in the manner of those citizens in the fifties condemned to wear ill-fitting and removable national health dentures. I settled for a salad and sparkling water. I wanted to keep my wits about me. In any case alcohol is forbidden while celebrating the holy sacraments. Strabbock had given me furtive glances from time to time over dinner. As he sipped his coffee, he told me that The Followers of Sister Wulfrida were convinced she survived her ordeal, following the revelations in the Saxmundham Chronicle. Hence the centuries of cattle mutilations, appearances, the whispers of strange, loping, half human figures. I tried hard not to show that I thought this notion to be nonsense. In fact I dignified the proposition with logic-based argument. Even if such longevity were possible, what would sustain life? Who knows? Strabbock answered. An eco-system and micro-culture of their own. We were briefly interrupted by the young waitress collecting the dishes. Any other town in England, I reflected, and she would have thought us in fancy dress - my Bishops weeds and his cassock and cowl.. "Surely she would have made her presence known in a eight hundred years?" So she has through her miracles. He kept giving me furtive looks. We don't believe that Wulfrida herself is still alive. The Churchs teachings are that we have only one life followed by eternity. But her offspring could have survived. "I don't see it, I replied. She was walled up alone." "She was walled up pregnant." I suddenly began to see what he was implying. "Our theory is this. She was not pregnant with one child; she was bearing twins, a boy and a girl. When they grew up, they bred, founding a dynasty in the walls of Saxmundham Nunnery."

209

IN THE WALLS OF SAXMUNDHAM NUNNERY

"How would they survive? What would they eat?" Initially she would feed them on her own breast milk augmented by whatever else dwelt behind the walls. Their animal instincts would enable them to survive. Rats could be milked or eaten. Lizards. The carapaces of insects could be cracked open and the contents ingested. Theres that white fungus that proliferates in dungeons. It would feed the body and anaesthetise the mind. It would spur spiritual sensations, maybe mitigate the perceived passage of time. When the milk dried up and there were no more rats or insects, they had the option of consuming their own mother? The foul air would have made them shallow breathers. They could survive there. As they grew stronger, there was also meat aplenty in the graves, if well matured. The twins would grow to puberty, couple with each other and found an inbred dynasty. Later there developed the tradition of villagers leaving fresh produce, some believing they were feeding Saint Wulfrida. Others were superstitious, fearful that if they did not appease the hunger of whatever dwelt in the ruins, it might seek fresher meat, perhaps still on the hoof. I didnt care to dwell on these hellish repasts. Moreover the idea led to me to even more fevered thoughts, though as Ockham's Razor requires - it was the simplest explanation - if the oddest - that fitted the facts. I could imagine that these benighted creatures might learn to survive in that unusual environment, the long thin, high, dark and often damp area between the walls. In the absence of human contact, they would develop their own culture comprising elements of pseudo-religious observance using the artefacts and icons that had been walled up with Wulfrida. Why did they stay hidden? It was their culture. Why would they want anyone to know they survived. They would have been at risk - as they are now. The outside world would be terrifying, daunting, dangerous, overpopulated and noisy, too bright for their nocturnal eyes. It would have been like exposing a mole to sunlight. Thats why they stayed inside even when the walls were ruptured and they could have escaped. Perhaps some did, I surmised. Maybe they interbred with the local population? This seemed to disturb him so I changed the subject to more practical matters. How did they get about, stuck in those narrow confines? They would use the technique mountaineers employ to negotiate chimneys. Back against one wall and heels against the other while one crabs upwards. This would allow them to escape the flooding when the

210

IN THE WALLS OF SAXMUNDHAM NUNNERY

rains were at their peak. That might be when they reluctantly visited the terrifying outside world, preferring the security of where they normally dwelt in darkness. I reflected on this while he finished his coffee. " We have to stop them, he said. The authorities. They are planning to gas the offspring who live in the walls." I was surprised he had surmised so much. Yet he was still ignorant of the full extent of the planned operation. There would be no bodies, no explanations, no coroner's reports and no public disquiet.

IV

When decent folk were leaving the public bar and heading home to rest, Strabbock and I climbed into his Anglia. He drove left into Rendham Road, past the Old Mill with its grey post-brick, turned right at the crossroads and took us past the 1850 Chantry House, the town sign with its Suffolk Sheep and Cattle and the Parish Church and Market Hall. Leaving town we crossed the River Fromus and were soon into open country. Strabbock was one of those drivers who insist on keeping their eyes on you while they speak, which he did without cessation. Thus the entire journey was carried out with his face at right angles to the direction in which we were travelling. In built up surroundings this would have been terrifying. It was still alarming enough here where the road meandered from left to right. The sight of the Nunnery by night was awe-inspiring. The gloomy and imposing structure had an air of disquiet about it - as if it were the repository of troubled souls. It was immense, skeletal, silhouetted against a full moon and illuminated by police and local council task forces with their arc lights. Here and there, the irregular tombstones jutted out at an angle, reminding me of Strabbocks irregular teeth. We were far from being the only visitors. They were all there, looking for moving gravestones and feral phantom creatures : the UFO sighters, the Trekkies, the Warminster Brigade with their Area 51 Groom Lake T Shirts and tinfoil hats, lycanthropists, vampirologists, ghost hunters, other fanatics. If I might be permitted an unchristian observation, their search for the bizarre could have been consummated more quickly with the purchase of a looking-glass. Our arrival caused something of a stir in view of our garments. While I was there on behalf of the Church, Strabbock represented the interests of The Followers. Allowing him into the crypt might not totally

211

IN THE WALLS OF SAXMUNDHAM NUNNERY

deflect his movements antagonism but it would fend off any complaint of exclusion. He was murmuring about the living descendants of St Wulfrida and how they were hiding in abject fear. These suppositions subjected me to ethical, moral and religious doubts. The Church is adamant that the immortal soul is vested only in human beings. This of itself creates much debate as to when evolving man became fully human. Are our Neanderthal forebears to be denied entry to paradise because of a low IQ? The Church teaches that animals have no souls, a cold doctrine that has broken the heart of many a bereaved pet owner. But what then would be the status of a hybrid - half human? There is no precedent in the Church because there is no precedent in evolution.. This entire graveyard was like a Swiss cheese, so take care said the police superintendent, as we approached. He gave us a few words of caution and handed me a flashlight. A graveyard by night is an upsetting place. There is the sensation of being surrounded by the deceased. Nor is it a quiet place as one might expect. Mice scuttle about and gnaw noisily at things. Birds flutter in their roosts and occasionally swoop, carrying off squeaking prey in their beaks. When there is silence, the mind abhors it like nature abhors a vacuum. The imagination fills in by inventing sounds such as worms munching the soil while tired eyes, bored with the darkness, invent movement where there is none. My task was to bless the souls of the departed. A number of coffins had been unearthed and stacked in a far corner, away from the epicentre of the blast. Some of the older coffins had been gnawed and some had sprung open revealing bones or dust. Tiptoeing with care across a surface likely at any moment to yield because of the honeycomb of tunnels, Strabbock and I came finally to the entrance to the crypt. It had been opened recently and the door accordingly slid open with little trouble. A blast of foul air emerged as if there were great pressure behind it. The stench caused me to gag. Beyond was a flight of stone steps leading down to the damp crypt, which we picked out with the flashlight. Recent showers had flooded the water table. Rats, threatened with drowning, had emerged blinking from their subterranean hideaways to higher ground. This was the official reason why Council had brought in a vermin exterminator. The rats had to be euthanased before the explosion as otherwise they would flee from their nests and infest the neighbouring countryside.

212

IN THE WALLS OF SAXMUNDHAM NUNNERY

Now with a heavy heart I come to those events which changed me from sceptic to reluctant believer. It was my Epiphany and almost my nemesis. I had scarcely finished my blessing when something moved in the darkness and Strabbock interrupted with a shriek. Theyre here. We must feed them, he hissed. We owe them a last supper. He wasnt talking about the rats. Then he called out something in a strange dialect. It reminded me of Chaucer. There was a movement deep in the darkness, a shuffling, heavy breathing. It became clear to me what his intention was. The Followers held my predecessor Bishop Anselm responsible for Wulfridas death, having set in motion the events that led to tragedy. Now they wanted revenge on me, his current successor. Strabbock grabbed hold of me with the grip of a madman and tried to drag me down to feed me to the living creatures beneath. This would be his way of exacting vengeance and postponing the demolition - killing two birds with one stone. He preferred to die along with the descendants of Sister Wulfrida
than to live without them.. I had a sudden fear of frightful, jabbering hybrid creatures with a taste for human

flesh lurking in the darkness. Surprise and horror petrified me. Instinct and fitness were my salvation. The skills I had learnt as a wing three quarter came into play. I dropped him with a stiff-arm chop and as he staggered, I hit him with the flashlight. Then I dragged him back with me to the surface where the police superintendent gave me a hand. There were howls from The Followers and I feared they might breach the barricades. I should not have looked back. But I did. In the seconds before Strabbock attacked me, the flashlight illuminated a terrified face peering from the ruins. It was essentially human and that in itself was enough to condemn me to a lifetime of nightmares. What made it far worse was the face was recognisable and I was complicit in that awful act of destruction. I tried to stop it but events relentlessly rolled on to their inevitable climax. The vermin exterminator, having set his traps, now activated them. There was a whoosh of gas. There was no time to go back, to perform a rescue act. We stumbled behind the nets erected to trap any fleeing rats. The Followers have always believed that when the ruins fall, Sister Wulfrida will emerge to claim her right to canonisation. I hope and pray they may be right. For the creature they had smoked out was the image of that portrait Strabbock had sent with his letter.

213

IN THE WALLS OF SAXMUNDHAM NUNNERY

Though we had taken fright at the sudden apparition, what had alarmed us among the ruins was a naked female - a timeless beauty. Her golden glow was enhanced by her nakedness, the opposite of the ugly, feral beast I had expected. She showed signs of refinement and delicacy. If this was how the descendants looked after centuries of hardship, one could only speculate as to how fair Sister Wulfrida had been in life. As he helped us scramble free, the police superintendent winced. Experience with car crime, petty theft and binge drinking had not prepared him for anything so incredible as the supernatural. Huddled behind the barriers, almost deafened by the baying of The Followers and the roar of the crowd, we saw him raise his right arm. It may have been to shield his eyes from the blast, to fend off the vision he had seen, or to halt proceedings. Whatever the intent, the foreman took it as the signal to proceed. The resultant orange-blue flash left us temporarily blinded. When we could see again the ruins had been brought down and the site was a mass of rubble under a cloud of dust. As I gathered my thoughts a grim suspicion crept over me. Certain facial features of the dweller in the ruins provided the clue. Complementing the feminine beauty of Wulfrida were a handsomeness and nobility underscored by a prominent nose and dark eyes. These were de Stradbroke features which meant that Simon Strabbock was a modern-day descendant of Henry - but a legitimate one. The creature in the ruins was a distant cousin. His twelfth century ancestor had killed Bishop Anselm without due cause. The Bishop had been innocent in this particular case. It was now clear why Wulfrida had entered the Nunnery when she thought her intended husband was dead. Her father had sent her there. She had been pregnant with the twins of Henry de Stradbroke.

214