Christmas Folklore - The Phantom Highwayman

Old Gilbert.

The village of Marden can be found in the quaint county of Kent, in the south east of England. Tales are told of the lanes and roads about this little community, tales of a ghostly highwayman, doomed to re-enact his final fatal crime every Christmas Eve.

Highwaymen were robbers who plied their notorious trade on roads, robbing unfortunate travellers. They would normally travel by horse and so, were considered the social superior of footpads, who committed their crimes without the aid of a trusty steed.  The first recorded use of the term highwayman comes from 1617. They have been somewhat romanticized, sometimes being referred to as ‘Gentlemen of the Road.’ And are the subject of many books, poems, songs and films.

The tale of Marden’s own phantom highwayman goes something like this:

Now the roads around the town of Marden in Kent were the haunt of a fearsome highwayman, known only as Gilbert. And one Christmas Eve, a man and his daughter were traveling in a horse-drawn coach to Hawkshurst, when Gilbert stopped them. The daughter managed to leap from the coach, but before her father could disembark, the horses became startled and bolted down the road with the man and his coachman in tow.

The two men struggled to get the horses back under control so they could go back and find the man's daughter, who had been left behind with Gilbert. But, when they got back to the scene of the attempted robbery, she was nowhere to be found. But they did find Gilbert, drenched in blood and dead as a doornail, sprawled on the ground with a dagger in his side.

So what happened? It seems Gilbert had – some months before – murdered the girls brother, upon realising who it was she pulled out a knife she kept on her person and stabbed the Highwayman to death in a fit of rage, before fleeing alone into the wild woods. It is said that when the poor girl was finally found she had gone quite insane.

So should you find yourself in Marden on Christmas Eve, and if you have partaken of enough liquid, festive cheer, why not take a midnight walk about the countryside, if local Legends is true, you may get to see the terrible events replayed in a hideous ghostly way.

I will leave you with a poem called ‘Windy Nights’ by Robert Louis Stevenson, although it never mentions a highwayman, whenever I read it I picture one in my mind, see what you think my friend. Finally if you enjoy ghostly folklore, please consider my book ‘Fireside Horror’ available on Amazon in Kindle, Physical or Audible format. Link after Poem.

Windy Nights By Robert Louis Stevenson.

Whenever the moon and stars are set, Whenever the wind is high, All night long in the dark and wet, A man goes riding by, Late in the night when the fires are out, Why does he gallop and gallop about?

Whenever the trees are crying aloud, And ships are tossed at sea, By, on the highway, low and loud, By at the gallop goes he. By at the gallop he goes, and then. By he comes back at the gallop again.