A haunting experience at the Gaveston Cross

Hey there, wonderful members!

Recently, I had the pleasure of visiting the Piers Gaveston memorial alongside TheOverSeer  late on the warm afternoon of Tuesday 27th August 2024. Nestled in a quaint little wood on Blacklow Hill near Warwick, this charming stone monument - erected in 1823 -marks the infamous spot where Piers Gaveston, the 1st Earl of Cornwall and Edward II’s favourite (but perhaps not the wisest of pals), lost his head. The poor chap was executed by the followers of Guy de Beauchamp, the Earl of Warwick, who rather enjoyed paying Piers Gaveston back for all those playful insults.

Our adventure started at the entrance of a farmer's field adorned with the classic "private property" and "no trespassing" signs. A fun fact for you: trespassing in England is more of a polite suggestion than a criminal offense!

Upon stepping into the woods, we both spotted something flitting about in the treetops. I half-expecting it to be a woodland spy, whereas TheOverSeer was caught in a game of "Where's Wally/Waldo?" before it disappeared into the foliage. The warm afternoon made for an entertaining trek across the freshly ploughed field to reach the woods, but once inside, our footing improved, and we sauntered toward the centre.

The base of the monument was a bit of a jungle, but we bravely forged ahead to the cross. What struck me first was its weathered charm; it seemed like a canvas for names etched by visitors over the years. A prominent metal plaque boldly proclaimed:

“In the hollow of this rock was beheaded on the 17th day of July 1312, by barons lawless as himself, Piers Gaveston, Earl of Cornwall, the minion of a hateful king, in life and death a memorable instance of misrule.”

Strangely enough, the moment we stepped into the woods, the hair on the back of my neck tingled as if we had unwittingly entered a live theatre production of "Who's Watching Us?" While snapping photos, I caught a fleeting glimpse of something lurking in the bushes. Naturally, I approached and called out, but alas, only crickets responded. The creeptastic aura urged us to make our exit. Just as we were leaving, I thought I spied the shadow of a man slipping behind a tree. Guess who was on the next train out of there? You got it. I hopped it.

Once we crossed back into the open field, I proudly donned my noise-cancelling headphones, trying to block out the eerie vibes. Yet TheOverSeer insisted I take them off, claiming he heard bells jingling in the distance. Naturally, I ignored him, thinking my tunes were more pressing. It wasn’t until I returned home and dove into some research that I stumbled upon tales of ghostly figures and tinkling bells purportedly haunting that very area.

So here's the million-pound question: did we catch a glimpse of the paranormal during our excursion?