Murder In 1654 - Broadsheet Poem by Peter (Prof) Fox

Title: A true relation of a horrid MURDER committed upon the person of Thomas Kidderminster at the White Horse Inn in Chelmsford in the County of Essex in the month of April 1654

It was in the year of '54
Foul murder did occur
A traveller came to a Chelmsford inn
Then died in blood and gore
He only meant to rest one night
As to London he made his way
But he remained for many years more
While his ghost refused to lay

Tom Kidd had been to Huntingdon
Where family lands he'd sold
Weary he came to the White Horse Inn
With his cloak-bag full of gold
Travel-tired though Tom might be
His face it surely smiled
For the very next day he'd be at home
With his loving wife and child

The keeper, Sewell, who ran the inn
Tom knew from earlier time
Could not resist his scheming wife
Who'd hatched an awful crime
By sad mischance the landlord's wife
Saw gold bright in the light
And so it quickly came to pass
there was red blood in the night

The flash of golden sovereigns
had fired her evil greed
'Husband I will be the brains
And you will do the deed'
As Tom retired to bed that night
For the last time in his life
Between the sheets he dreamed sweet dreams
Of his children and his wife

His wife she waited patiently
But then she had great fears
For Tom never came as he said he would
There was silence for 13 years
All her enquiries drew a blank
Of Tom there was never a trace
Except unknown to those searching for him
Strange happenings in the place

The rooms upstairs were seldom quiet
A ghost prowled night and day
So the landlord and his wife took fright
and soon they went away
The fence at the back just wouldn't stay
upright for long at all
So John Cox would to do the job right
And build a good brick wall

As he dug the foundation hole
His pick struck something dull
On looking down amongst the earth
he found a human skull
He tossed it in the orchard field
but it would not lie still
It kept on moving through the grass
and even rolled up hill

John picked the gruesome object up
and thought it made a sound
Then dug down in the earth to find
a skeleton in the ground
The shocking news of this strange death
was by the journals spread
Mrs Kidd soon guessed the truth
and so to Chelmsford sped

She bravely went to that fateful inn
and there would stay the night
At two o'clock with an groaning crash
she was woken with a fright
The spirit knew his love was come
so boisterously did it show
Chairs went flying and the table split
from a dreadful ghostly blow

The unquiet ghost had walked before
since that bloody deed
Now Sewell and his accomplices
would soon pay for their greed
Sad was the tale of that bloody night
when poor Tom was killed
Enquiries soon found the story out
Of how his blood was spilled

'Will you rob me of my gold.
Murder me as well!
Take my money or my life
And I'll see you all in hell'
Cruel Sewell swung a poleaxe
Which struck him in the head
His wife then went and cut his throat
so Tom like a pig was bled

The ostler helped to dig the grave
out in the hotel's grounds
For this he got the traveller's suit
and also sixty pounds
Justice slow but certain came
to those who did the crime
First to die was the woman who
washed the linen at the time

She was brought before the justices
and made to swear an oath
'May I rot alive' so she said
'If I don't tell the truth'
'There was no blood upon those sheets
Of that I can be sure'
But soon her bowels began to rot
- for that there was no cure

Her loathsome death made Sewell think
Fear and doubt fought in his head
Demons and conscience struggled inside
'til he wished that he was dead
In case he gave the game away
by losing of his mind
His wife poisoned him so soon to hell
his soul it was consigned

In her turn she caught the plague
Before assizes time
And the gibbet claimed the ostler's life
for his part in the crime
Four deaths for one was not enough
The ghost hadn't settled the score
The family was broken by these foul deeds
So still he walks the floor

***

At night when you are fast asleep
And hear a ghostly call
Don't dig too deep in your back yard
'cos you might just find a skull


(Rendered into verse from a rare narrative of the same name for Essex book festival from a reference in Chelmsford Through The Ages found in Colchester library's local history section.)