Transcript
Speaker: Darkcast Network, bringing our indie podcasts out of the shadows.
Speaker: Witches, warriors, ghoul friends. Welcome to Spindleshanks' Shack. My name is Spindleshanks McScrew, your guide for all things ghoulish in Yorkshire.
Speaker: And it's my pleasure to haunt you through the airwaves. I can see you, you know. I've clawed my way through the fog on the Mars to be here with you right at this moment, to regale you with miserable tales of bygone days from what they call God's Own Country.
Speaker: Spooking the locals is indeed what I do best, and you can book onto one of my Saturday ghost tours in Otley or Skipton. There I will regale you with grisly local tales you won't hear anywhere else.
Speaker: But for now, pull up a pew and lend me your ear. I have a story to tell that you don't want to hear.
Speaker: My creepy companions, the first story I would like to tell stems from British legend. It focuses on a creature found in folklore. There are reports of these beasts throughout each county in England.
Speaker: This beast goes by many names, but maintains its characteristics wherever it is found. First, a bit of backstory. Barghest, or Barghest, in British folklore, is a monstrous black dog, renowned for its humongous teeth, razor-sharp claws, and yellow or sometimes red saucer-shaped eyes that glow in the dark.
Speaker: Reports of ghostly black dogs has been a repeated phenomenon throughout history, and these beastly allegations appear across the map of the UK, with very few stories boding well for the witness in the end.
Speaker: There are reports of these beasts throughout each country in England, a few in Wales and at least one on the Isle of Man. Charlie Cooper's Myth Country can be found on BBC iPlayer.
Speaker: He investigates the Black Shook of Norfolk, with Shook translating to demon. Wakefield's Black Dog is known as Padfoot, Somerset's is Girt Dog and Isle of Man is Moddy Dew.
Speaker: Other names include Galley Trot, Gabriel Hounds and Galley Skies, but we're in Yorkshire now and here they're known as Barg Hestes.
Speaker: Does it come as a surprise that the word ghost in Northern England through the Middle Ages was pronounced guest? Then the Anglo-Saxon word for town or borough was burg, hence town, ghost.
Speaker: The Barghest of West Yorkshire is said to occupy the now ruins of Dob Park Lodge, a grade 2 listed ruin of an old 16th century hunting lodge, located in the Washburn Valley just outside of Otley Town.
Speaker: The story begins in the early 1600s, when wealthy couple Sir Marga Vavasor and Lady Joan Vavasor arranged to build three luxurious banqueting houses across their hundreds of acres of land.
Speaker: These banqueting houses would serve as comfortable retreats after a long day of hunting with friends and acquaintances. a couple more satisfied when in the company of others, the Vavasaur's loved to host.
Speaker: They'd throw lavish parties, and the Vavasaur household was certainly the place to be come hunting season, with their rather brutish son William shaping up to have quite a keen shot.
Speaker: Dobb Park Lodge was Mrs. Vavasor's favourite of the three hunting lodges, with huge stately fireplaces in every room, lavish interiors, and high towers that perfectly accommodated her crossbow.
Speaker: The winding corridors and secret passageways meant she was able to easily sneak away from parties with her favourite lover and butler, Mr. Bottleare.
Speaker: All her favourite things in one lodge. Mr. Bottler had an earnest charm and a down-to-earth nature which Joan appreciated, and she had a sharp inkling about Mr. Vavasor's infidelity anyway, so didn't feel any guilt about her affair.
Speaker: Mr. Bottler and Mrs. Vavasor became quite a pair, and as time went on, it was clear that they were deeply in love. When Mrs. Vavasor and Mr. Vavasor became pregnant, Mr. Vavasor begrudgingly painted a picture of a happy marriage to the outside world, but knew in his heart of hearts that it had been dead for a long time.
Speaker: This feeling of marital decay became harder and harder to tolerate for Mr. Vavasor, and he was left wondering when and how the marriage had broken down.
Speaker: As Mrs. Vavasor swelled and grew closer still to Mr. Bottleair, Mr. Vavasor became more bitter until he became unrecognisable in himself, a beastly danger to himself and to others.
Speaker: As Mrs. Favasaure's due date loomed closer, she found herself looking for escape, and with difficulty, she made her exit from the house. It is unclear how far she got, although blood splatters on the floor suggest that she gave birth in Dob Park Lodge, where her baby was likely also conceived.
Speaker: There were also reports of treacherous screams from the building in the middle of a thunderstorm, but Mrs. Vavasor was seen by nobody since her escape from Vavasor Manor, and Mr. Bottleare was quickly made redundant as Chief Butler on her departure.
Speaker: The lavish parties came to an abrupt end, and Mr. Vavasor, after his tyrannical reign as House Brute, became something of a recluse, silent and still, seen only occasionally by the servants of the Vavasor household.
Speaker: His son, William, spent all of his time socialising with his elite group of friends, and did everything he could to avoid his family home.
Speaker: Unbeknownst to those in the house at first, Mr. Vavasor would leave the manor every night, armed with a shotgun, wrapped up in some kind of ritualistic night hunt, it seemed.
Speaker: For all his attempts to move in silence, the eyes and ears of Vavasaur Manor quickly detected the repeated nightly echo of Vavasaur's fire, as well as his absence, and it soon became a routine of intrigue for the servants as they listened in the dark hours for a gunfire, which would later be followed by a trail of secret footsteps as Mr Vavasaur returned to his chamber.
Speaker: This nightly spectacle became nothing more than common routine for the attendance of the manor eventually. Until, one remarkably dull evening, a brave servant dared to secretly follow Mr. Vavasor out to the lodge.
Speaker: Reporting back to the domestics at the manor, he watched as the Lord shot some poor unsuspecting creature before dragging its corpse through the fields and back into the building.
Speaker: Having dared to lurk closer, near enough to the window to watch the hairs quiver on his brow, apparently. He reported hearing the sounds of dense metals scrape the ground, as well as a muted howling, whining sound coming from inside.
Speaker: This account arose speculation once more within the manor. A week or so later, the flame of intrigue was lit once more as a group outing was arranged by the brave servant.
Speaker: Around seven or eight of the domestics left the manor with not more than a few flames between them. Shivering with fright of the risk of their livelihoods as well as potentially their lives, they crept towards the lodge, huddling together for protection.
Speaker: The group scattered in fear as the gunshot rang through the air, and there was discussion of abandoning the mission altogether which was quickly dampened by the brave servant and leader of the pack, who prompted the huddle towards the lodge.
Speaker: Encouraged by the hypothesis to a twisted and scandalous story, the huddle moved towards a windowpane and peered through the darkness, guided only by their lamplight.
Speaker: As promised, there was the sound of the clanging metals, scratching and whining, louder even than the brave servant had imposed.
Speaker: A newfound trust in their leader, the group made out what they could from the shadows and sounds within the lodge. When the brave servant suggested they move closer still, the group complied.
Speaker: They realised the power in their number, and with the maltreatment they had received from the lord of the manor in the workplace, they were determined to disrupt Mr. Vavasor's mystery.
Speaker: The strike was agreed. Their courage was aflame between them. No longer clinging to one another, they moved as a pack of individuals, their humble lanterns lit before them at the entrance of Dob Park Lodge.
Speaker: They moved with stealth through the lobby and followed only the sounds of the snarls coming from within. The sounds grew more bloody and grotesque as the thing ravaged whatever was inside.
Speaker: But there was no sound of a man. Where was Mr Vavasor? The sounds were at their peak and grew no further. The group used their meagre lantern to look around the darkness and eventually discovered that they were stood upon a trap door.
Speaker: The brave leader opened the trap door and they were met with a new onslaught of sounds from the beast.
Speaker: Carefully and quietly, the team lowered themselves underground and followed a cold the stone corridor towards the vicious wailing of the Barghest. These sounds, their only constant,
Speaker: A bright lantern could be detected at the end of the corridor, and a silent black figure stood next to it. The team grew giddily nervous to realise that Mr Vavasor stood at the end of their corridor.
Speaker: They edged forwards, and the wailing stopped. Mr Vavasor turned around in confusion, sensing a being at the end of the hallway.
Speaker: Um, hello, sir? cried one of the group. Mr. Vavasor lunged forward. His bewilderment and defensive nature caused him to load and shoot his rifle down the corridor, and the group cowered and turned to Scarpa.
Speaker: If only they did, they would have missed the spectacle. Peering down the corridor and lit only by lantern, the report that follows must factor in its shadows and distance.
Speaker: What the remaining group speaks of was a great black beast. One with no fewer than three heads, demonic red eyes and claws the length of scythes.
Speaker: It came from the end of the corridor and lurched forward in its opportunity. apparently taking great delight in ripping apart the old Mr. Vavasaur limb by limb, then intestine by intestine, and chewing on him until there was nothing left but his shotgun.
Speaker: The group watched in awe and revulsion as the three heads rose further and attempted to move forward to them. It would have had its own feast if it were not for the metal chains it were fastened to.
Speaker: The group ran back to the manor house and told everyone of what they saw. They drank their nerves that evening and of course their story proved true when Mr Vavasor did not make his habitual return back to his chamber.
Speaker: Mr William Vavasor, of course, came to inherit the property. The young lad had somehow developed a calm, kind nature and had left his hunting days behind him.
Speaker: In fact, he'd decided to opt for a vegetarian diet. Ever the socialite, William had an open-door policy and had a constant stream of visitors to the household.
Speaker: He decided to convert the three hunting lodges into quaint tea rooms and inns so that travellers and walkers could enjoy refreshments as they trotted around the grounds.
Speaker: He never had any inkling of a three-headed beast in the cellar of Dodd Park Lodge, as it was no longer positioned there. How it had escaped, no one knows for sure, but the light and airy walk around Vavasor Manor became something of a horror once the sun had set.
Speaker: William could never understand why his visitors never stayed to drink with him after dark, or why the servants insisted on locking the doors to their quarters before sunset.
Speaker: But he always felt safe in the sanctuary of his chamber, as he'd listened to a trio of wolves howl in the distance. To this day, you can visit the remains of Dob Park Lodge.
Speaker: You can imagine the height of the building, and you can see what's left of Mrs. Vavasor's beloved stately fireplaces. You can't view the cellar, and this was thought to have been bricked up many years prior to the lodge's demise.
Speaker: Whether the building was burnt down or simply neglected is unclear. More recent reports from nighttime passers-by who've survived cursed witnessings of the Barghest are not dissimilar to the accounts of Mr. Vavasor's servants.
Speaker: They detail the sounds of heavy metals clanging and scraping the floor, before witnessing the flash of a great beast-like creature with three heads and eyes red with rage.
Speaker: It is not recommended to visit after dusk to this day. Thank you for listening, my creepy companions. I have been Spindleshanks McScrew.
Speaker: To hear more Yorkshire ghost stories and local legends, you can book onto the Otley or Skipton Ghost Tour at www.yorkshireghosttours.com.
Speaker: Oh.
