The Ghosts of Piers Gaveston and Guy de Beauchamp

Scarborough Castle rises dramatically from a rocky headland on England’s North Sea coast, its weathered stones silhouetted against the sky. The site has seen three and a half millennia of human activity, from the Bronze Age, when axes, swords, and jewellery were left behind, through Roman occupation with its signal towers warning of Germanic raids, to Viking settlements that gave Scarborough its name: Skarthi’s burgh, the fortified place of a hare-lipped Norseman. Normans and medieval kings followed, establishing timber and later stone fortresses, shaping the castle into a key defensive stronghold. Each era has left traces, but also stories, some violent, some tragic, and some that refuse to die.

Among the many spirits said to linger here is Piers Gaveston, Earl of Cornwall, notorious favourite of King Edward II. Born around 1284 in Gascony, Gaveston entered the royal household in his early teens and formed an unusually close bond with Edward, who became king in 1307. This friendship, some contemporary observers assumed, crossed the boundaries of normal companionship, and modern historians have speculated on its nature. Regardless, the political repercussions were severe. Gaveston’s rise—made Earl of Cornwall and granted lands, titles, and influence—provoked resentment among the English nobility, particularly among powerful barons who saw him as arrogant and greedy. His enemies included Guy de Beauchamp, the Earl of Warwick, a man of intelligence, wealth, and martial prowess, whose enmity would ultimately seal Gaveston’s fate.

In 1312, Gaveston sought refuge in Scarborough Castle, briefly besieged before surrendering under promises of safe conduct. Yet betrayal followed. Seized by Warwick and other barons, he was dragged from Warwick Castle in humiliation, paraded through towns on a horse adorned with ribbons and bells, and led to Blacklow Hill. There, on 19 June, he was executed—beheaded and run through with a sword. Though his death took place far from Scarborough, local legend insists that his spirit returned to the castle he once occupied. Visitors tell of sudden chills, glimpses of a headless figure among the ruins, and a pervasive sense of being watched. Some describe the ghost as moving along the cliff’s edge, a spectral echo of the man who once dominated the court, yet met such a violent end.

Blacklow Hill, where the execution occurred, retains a uniquely oppressive atmosphere. The hilltop, now marked by a simple stone monument, seems to pulse with memory. Witnesses report hearing faint jingles of bells drifting on the wind, a spectral reminder of the ribbons and bells that adorned Gaveston’s horse during his final ride. At times, ghostly figures of armed men and a woman in flowing robes have been seen, silently crossing the hill in solemn procession. The air grows heavy and still, and some visitors experience sudden dizziness or nausea, as though the ground itself remembers the cruelty enacted there. The combination of open skies, isolated location, and the weight of history makes Blacklow Hill one of England’s most chilling historical sites.

While Gaveston’s spirit haunts the north, his adversary, Guy de Beauchamp, continues to make his presence known near Redditch. Known in life as the “Black Dog of Arden” due to his dark complexion and formidable demeanor, he died in 1315 and was interred at Bordesley Abbey. Centuries later, in March 1864, the abbey ruins were excavated by James M. Woodward, who uncovered a stone coffin believed to contain Warwick’s remains. That night, working alone among moonlit stones, Woodward reported hearing a terrifying howl. Emerging from the ruins was a massive black dog with glowing eyes, an apparition so lifelike it froze him in place. The creature lingered for a moment, then vanished into the mist, leaving Woodward shaken and awed.

Since that time, the legend of the Black Dog of Arden has endured. Sightings occur across the surrounding countryside, along forest paths, canal banks, and abandoned fields. Locals speak of a huge, shadowy hound appearing silently at night, watching travelers from a distance before disappearing. Some interpret it as a guardian, others as a harbinger, yet all agree the presence is unnerving. Stories of black dogs have circulated throughout England for centuries, and the Arden forests have long been associated with strange, unearthly creatures. Here, the line between folklore and the restless dead blurs, with Warwick’s spirit said to roam in the form of the spectral hound.

Bordesley Abbey itself, though mostly ruined, holds a unique place in the local imagination. The abbey, founded in the 12th century, became a hub of monastic life until its dissolution. The stones whisper of centuries of ritual, learning, and sudden destruction, and the land has absorbed countless tragedies. Visitors report cold spots, fleeting shadows, and inexplicable sounds among the ruins. The combination of history, solitude, and legend creates an atmosphere where the past seems present, and the boundary between the living and the dead feels fragile.

Scarborough Castle, Blacklow Hill, and Bordesley Abbey form a triangle of spectral activity linked by the lives and deaths of Gaveston and Warwick. At Scarborough, the sea wind carries whispers of past sieges, ghostly apparitions, and the sense of a headless favourite moving among the cliffs. At Blacklow Hill, the sound of bells and faint phantom processions recalls the brutality of a single summer day in 1312. At Bordesley Abbey, the black dog stalks silently through ruins, a reminder of mortal power and posthumous vigilance.

Each site carries its own unique character. At Scarborough, the exposed cliffs and crashing waves lend a sense of scale and timelessness. The North Sea fog and gull cries transform the ruins into a liminal space, somewhere between past and present. At Blacklow Hill, the open fields and surrounding woods create a quiet that amplifies even the softest noises. Wind rustling through the trees can resemble whispered voices, footsteps, or the faint jingle of distant bells. Bordesley Abbey offers stone and shadow, arches and fallen walls that suggest secret passageways and unseen watchers. Here, the imagination fills in gaps left by history, and the mind perceives forms where only ruins stand.

Reports of ghostly activity are varied. Some describe full-bodied apparitions, others only the sense of being observed. In Scarborough, a figure is said to dart along the cliff edge, disappearing into the fog. On Blacklow Hill, phantom processions of armed men and a solitary woman retrace Gaveston’s last journey. At Bordesley, the black dog appears silently at night, sometimes seen near old foundations, other times emerging from dense woodland, its eyes glowing with a spectral fire. For centuries, locals and visitors alike have been unnerved by these tales, but they continue to attract the curious and the brave.

The stories endure because these sites are layered with memory. The land remembers, it seems, the ambitions, betrayals, and deaths that occurred upon it. Human violence, ambition, and injustice have left invisible traces, shaping the experiences of those who come centuries later. The ghosts of Scarborough Castle, Blacklow Hill, and Bordesley Abbey are tied to history but persist in a liminal space where time and reason become less certain. Visitors often find themselves contemplating not only the past but the nature of memory, mortality, and what it means for the dead to linger among the living.

Walking these sites is more than a historical excursion. It is a journey through centuries of power, politics, and personal vendettas. It is also a journey through the shadows of human emotion: fear, cruelty, loyalty, and love. Each ruin, hill, and hidden pathway contains echoes of the lives once lived and the violence that ended them. The ghosts, whether understood as spirits, folklore, or manifestations of collective memory, provide a haunting continuity to England’s turbulent history.

Scarborough, Blacklow Hill, and Bordesley Abbey remind us that history is never entirely behind us. It lingers in the stones, the trees, the wind, and in the stories passed from one generation to the next. The headless favourite, the spectral procession, the black dog—all are threads woven into the fabric of the land, threads that connect the living to the past in ways that are unsettling, fascinating, and unforgettable.

Whether it is the lonely cliffs of Scarborough, the eerie silence of Blacklow Hill, or the shadowed ruins of Bordesley Abbey, the stories endure. They invite contemplation, curiosity, and a careful step into the realm where history and legend entwine. The dead have not entirely departed, and those who visit these places may feel their presence, hear faint echoes, or catch a glimpse of movement in the corner of the eye. It is a reminder that, in some corners of England, the past never truly releases its hold on the present.