Mazehouse in the War

During the Second World War, the Mazehouse, which was unoccupied at the time, was requisitioned for military use. The house is ideally placed not far from the east coast and was used initially as a training centre for SOE recruits.

 

Later on in the War, however, it seems that the house was used by the secret services for a very different purpose. Certainly at one stage late in the War, the house was used as a radio broadcasting station. It was at this time that the writer Ranulph Williams, among others, was stationed in the house.

 

The idea, it seems, was to broadcast into mainland Europe, with covert relay stations making it seem as if the broadcasts were coming from within the occupied territory itself.

 

Some of the broadcasts were of propaganda and counter-intelligence material, but a lot of it was simply designed to provoke and demoralise German occupying troops. This led to some very bizarre broadcasts, including hardcore pornography and, under Williams’ influence, some occult and supernatural themed news and stories.

 

This project was closed down after only a few months of operation, ostensibly because it was difficult to prove any effectiveness for the broadcasts, although there have been persistent rumours that certain incidents in the house meant that the project could not be continued anyway.

 

The house then remained unoccupied until after the war.

Wartime history

Hello there, Stephen here. I just wanted to say thankyou to the reader who got in touch with some details about Ranulph Williams and his history with the Mazehouse, which has allowed us to add a new article to the site about the history of the house during the War.

One mystery remains, which is what exactly happened in the house that affected Williams so much. My correspondent says he has heard that the first edition of ‘Haunted Houses’ had a foreword that included much more information about the Mazehouse but which was cut down to the one we have on the site for later editions.

I’d love to heard from anyone who could lay their hands on a copy. In the meantime I’m going to see what else I can find out.

Local folklore

Hello there, Stephen here, with just a quick update. As you have probably seen, I managed to have a chat with the Vicar, the Reverend Morgan, who was very kindly able to fill me in on some of the local traditions concerning the Flower Queans and some of the folklore behind them.

Like a lot of English traditions, these have their roots in Victorian folklore research and recreation but undoubtedly contain traces of something considerably more ancient and more traditional. It’s particularly interesting to see that Ranulph Williams became so interested in the story – I must confess that I’ve never read his book, The Labyrinthine King – in fact I think its currently out of print, but it certainly sounds interesting.

Meanwhile, I’m considerably excited by the arrival in the house of my friend and colleague Jo Cargill, who is arriving to start work on the more technical aspects of our investigation. It’s going to be great to have Jo here, in fact, its going to great just to have someone else here, even if it does mean that I’m going to have to give up sleeping in the attic room I’ve been staying in the last few nights – oddly, I’ve slept incredibly well there, although that does mean I haven’t had anything to write in my dream diary recently.

The Woman of Flowers

The legend of King Lucy has long been associated with the area – a small local Iron Age earthwork is traditonally known as Lucy’s Castle and a much weathered medieval statue that currently stands outside the church of St Dymphna’s is commonly called King Lucy or King Luck and touched for good fortune.

The King himself is mentioned in Malory’s Morte D’Arthur as one of the court at Camelot and the story is briefly mentioned by Holinshed and referenced by Ben Jonson. But the fullest retelling comes in Ranulph Williams’ novel ‘The Labyrinthine King’ where it forms the centrepiece of his modernisation of the Arthurian myth.

His version goes something like this:

King Lucy, convinced of the fickleness of women, wished for a woman as constant and reliable as the seasons. His wish was granted by a cunning wizard who created for him a bride made entirely of the flowers of spring.

The King made the Woman of Flowers his queen, but, as the seasons changed, so did she, falling in love not with the King but with the wizard, her creator.

Betrayed, the King swore to destroy not just his unfaithful wife, but the seasons themselves, laying waste to his kingdom and everything in it green and growing until nothing was left.

In the midst of this devastation nothing can survive and the kingdom itself is on the verge of destruction until the wizard, overcome by grief, kills himself over the body of his dead love.

The wizard’s blood revives the Woman of Flowers and with her revives nature itself. the king forgives her, she returns to her role as queen and order is once more restored.

Although Williams has embroidered greatly on the existing glimpses of the story, it is now his telling that has become the most common version in the local area.

The Flower Quean

The Harvest Festival has been an integral part of country life for millennia and many parts of the country have their own particular way of marking it. The tradition of the ‘Flower Quean’ is a celebration unique to the area around the Mazehouse

In many harvest traditions the last sheaf of wheat to be cut is honoured, sometimes being used to make a corn dolly or traditonal effigy, often being ritually buried in the fields to bless the next year’s crop. In the locality of the Mazehouse this role is taken, not by corn, but by a collection of flowers.

The flowers are gathered throughout the year and carefully dried before being assembled into specially shaped bunches known as ‘Flower Queans’. During a Harvest Supper at the parish church of St Dymphna’s the various ‘Flower Queans’ produced by members of the parish (usually, but not exclusively, the women) are judged by the vicar and the church wardens, to choose the true ‘Flower Quean’ for that year.

The Harvest Supper usually ends with a number of parlour games and contests, with the winner being awarded the honour of looking after the ‘Flower Quean’ for the rest of the year.

Although there is some evidence in parish records of similar rituals existing in the past, the current tradition has it’s roots in the last century when the vicar at the time decided to revive the local folklore, which probably also accounts for the consciously archaic spelling of the name.

It was as part of this recreation of the traditon that the ceremony became associated with the local folklore of King Lucy and the Woman of Flowers.

While the ritual may have been inspired and created from genuine local folklore, it is impossible to know how much of it has any actual antiquity despite the efforts of many antiquarians to discover pagan roots to the ceremony.

History of occupation of the house

The Maze House is a Grade II listed building. It is mainly nineteenth century but still retains parts of the original eighteenth century house, particularly at the front of the building. The site, however, has been occupied for years. The grounds contain the foundations of a medieval abbey – with one wall at least partially standing. It is thought that there has been a religious settlement on the site, or in the area back into the Anglo-Saxon period. An archaeological dig in 1924 turned up the remains of a Roman villa. The most remarkable find of which being parts of a mosaic floor with a geometric pattern on it. There is some evidence to suggest even earlier Celtic occupation of the site, but this has not been tested. The inhabitants of the house have led a no less chequered past than the building itself. The house is often pointed out as the home of Mary Day, the sister that the wicked Sir Frances Day married to the Devil – if you believe local folk tales, although the current construction is certainly too recent to fit the bill, even if you believed the story. It is known, however, that it was owned by a Mr Day when it was sold to the Brightley family in the early nineteenth century, although it is thought that even this was a family transaction, the Brightleys being related to the Days through a cadet branch. Although the family fortunes have been somewhat erratic, the house has remained in the Brightley family ever since. The current owners are not currently resident. According to them the house is definitely haunted.