A mere stones-throw from our humble abode, on a commanding Kentish hillside, are the crumbling rubble remains of a mysterious castle. On a windy winter afternoon, our little family decided to make a pilgrimage to the sleepy town of Sutton Valence to witness the once wondrous home of Lords and Earls, now reduced to an eerie outcrop of broken ragstone and mortar amongst the hilltop trees.
Our journey took us along twisting tarmac tracks through luscious hump back hills, fertile forests and forgotten villages until we reached the scenic hideaway we desired. The little town of Sutton Valence, formerly Sudtone or Town Sutton (South Town) is every bit as adorable as we could have imagined. The cutest period cottages lined up alongside ancient ragstone refuges, a delightful church on the hillside and glorious green fields with remarkable views over the endless valley beyond. It was postcard perfect.
Sutton Valence lies on the Greensand ridge, overlooking the Vale of Kent and Weald. A Roman road once passed through the village and a significant number of high status Iron Age artefacts have been uncovered in the local area, including gold staters and Belgic pottery. The position on the hillside overlooked a strategic route to the coast, lying between Maidstone, Rye and Old Winchelsea. This position proved the catalyst for the construction of an important stronghold, which would dominate the landscape for centuries.
Baldwin of Bethune, the Norman Count of Aumale, most likely built the castle in the middle of the 12th century. The original building probably comprised of an inner and outer bailey, round tower, keep and a protective barbican. The castle passed through the Count’s family until it became the property of Simon De Montfort, 6th Earl of Leicester in 1238. De Montfort famously led a rebellion against King Henry III during the second Baron’s war. He was defeated, killed in the battle of Evesham in 1265 and his family were stripped of all his lands, including the castle at Sutton. The castle and surrounding lands were conferred to Henry’s half-brother, William de Valence for his assistance in quashing the rebellion. The town of Sutton thereon became Sutton Valence.
Very little of the original fortress remains. It seems that sometime after the 14th century the castle fell into disrepair, not maintained until the 20th century, when the fragments of remaining fortifications were given to the state for preservation. Eventually, English Heritage took charge of Sutton Valence Castle and they continue to tend its upkeep. The castle, or what is left of it, is free to visit, though there is not an awful lot to see and a lengthy stay is probably unnecessary.
We ducked and dived around the relics and ruins for a little while, Audrey fascinated by the unnatural shapes and stunning scenery on show. There was not much in the way of directional options, most of the surrounding land being private property and fenced off from intrigued tourist types such as ourselves. Eventually we made for the country lane, wandering the path back to the town from whence we came.
After our brief excursion, clambering through the towers of the ancient castle, we took a gentle but lengthy stroll through some of the surrounding quaint countryside. This was an opportunity for Bramble to let loose and sprint until her heart was content, tongue, ears and fur flapping in the breeze, she was in her element. Clearly, the kind of community centred on family and animals, we were not alone enjoying the open space and fresh countryside air of the tiny town.
The town is home to an impressive 16th century boarding school. William Lambe, master of the Worshipful Company of Clothworkers, founded Sutton Valence School in 1576. Our interests were piqued when rumours of ghostly goings on were shared. It appeared stories of other worldly beings within these ancient walls were numerous and included a little drummer boy who haunted the prefects lawn, a ghost in the tunnel between the main school and the Lambes building and a woman in white floating through the upper corridors of the same building. The whimpering sounds of a dog were often heard, understood to be owned by a WW2 soldier who killed both the dog and himself shortly after the war in a fit of depression. A servant girl in a white apron is said to haunt the kitchens, along with a darker, more dangerous spirit, perhaps a poltergeist. A cricketer is thought to stalk the halls and dining areas, and even the laundry is believed to house some ancient spirit. Was this the excitable imaginations of generations of eager schoolchildren… or something altogether more terrifying?
We decided to find a quiet spot and enjoy a good old-fashioned beer. Our first attempt at a was thwarted as the building we assumed a public house turned out to be a renovated home, with the old pub sign still hanging over the door. This was disappointing to say the least, but fortunately, this was not a one-establishment town, and we made our way along the high street until we reached a tavern offering the “best garden terrace views” in town. It was an offer we could not refuse. We were not disappointed! With a local beer in hand, we sat in the garden of the Clothworkers Arms and gazed across the green valley below. Audrey danced on the decking and Bramble enjoyed some K9 snacks, perfectly happy to snuffle away in her own airy content.
Eventually it was time for us to retire, a snoozy baby and exhausted puppy in tow, we made for the car and took to the road. With a final glance at the ghostly skeleton of a once mighty fortress, still guarding the little community who grew around it, we said a fond farewell, but certainly not a final one.
