The Hanging Tree

Like many English villages Bibbington had its own ancient tradition. It was quaint and popular, it even featured in the county’s tourist guide along with a lovely picture of smiling children. I have included the entry from said pamphlet for your reference:

“The Bibbington Hanging Tree.

In the beautiful village of Bibbington there is an ancient Easter tradition of tying ribbons to the branches of the oldest tree in the village. Children from local schools collect colours ribbons from the doorstep of Number 11 Brook Lane (a house that dates back to the 15th century) from a locally chosen ‘Just-a-piece’ they then parade through the streets to the Hanging Tree where the local vicar blesses each child and once they have tied their ribbon to a branch they receive an Easter egg. This event is believed to have been held in some way for at least 500 years and many think it may be an even older Ostara celebration.”

The entry goes on to give details of parking and local food venues but you get the general idea of the event. It was much loved, greatly enjoyed and reasonably well known.  There is little to say about this other than it is utter rubbish. It is certainly not an ancient pagan ritual nor is it a lovely Christian one either. The truth is far more unpleasant.

During the witch craze of the early seventeenth century Bibbington was a far larger place, it was broken into three separate villages. Upper Bibbington, Lower Bibbington and Great Bibton. It served numerous hamlets, farmsteads and therefore was the centre of justice regionally. It was here that the witch trials under the great inquisitor Lawrence Henry took place and where Justice of the Peace Horace De

Fleur passed down his hasty judgements. The guilty witches were housed in number 11 Brook Lane then marched to the tree and hanged. The current practice echoes this even referencing ‘Hasty Horace’ as the ‘Just-a-piece’. Few are aware of the connection and those who do choose not to mention it in fear of spoiling everyone’s fun. Indeed the tyranny of the two men has almost been obliterated, their most infamous act in executing 10 women on one day lost to history as who will remember the Bibton 10 now there is no Bibton.

The hanging of the witches actually took place in September and so the celebrations do little to genuinely commemorate the event. Ordinarily the colourful ribbons have been taken down by May Day at the latest so it was a great surprise when black ribbons appeared on the branches of the hanging tree in September of last year. Nobody saw who put them there and nobody admitted to have done it. One or two people spotted it that first day and they commented to friends and neighbours but the ten fluttering strips of cloth raggedly twisted around the branches barely raised an eyebrow in the local pub the “Bear and Ball”.

Nobody made the connection when Mildred Plews the church warden took a fall at home and subsequently died from the injuries. Why would they? Even if they had noticed that one of the ribbons had gone from the tree. The dots had not been joined days later when they had dropped to seven ribbons and Mrs Plews’s next door neighbour was taken to hospital with pneumonia and similarly saw a surprise exit. Both ladies were elderly and infirm and so their deaths were past off as just bad luck.

Some saw the death in the next house in the street more than a simple coincidence, especially as Dominic Flynn, a keen sportsman met a tragic end through electrocution the same day as the tree had lost another ribbon. It was probably when the residents of numbers seven and six Brook Lane were killed as a fire ripped through both properties the day a further two ribbons disappeared that Gwen Majors, a divorcee living in her late mother’s old home began feeling somewhat edgy.  Ms Majors was both superstitious and practical and so unsurprisingly chose to prevent any further tragedy by removing the ribbons herself. Indeed it seemed to have worked as she woke the following day, however to her dismay the ribbons had reappeared overnight. She continued this practice for four more nights when she fell from her ladder under the tree and impaled herself on a rogue garden fork. She would have been justifiably annoyed that there were still four ribbons in the tree.

The residents of the final four houses met around a table in the Bear and Ball grumbling one minute about an unseen hand them trying to convince each other it was a coincidence the next. It was the resident of number 2, a retired surveyor named Williams who presented the suggestion there may be something connected to the churchyard, where the hanging tree sat just outside of, might hold a clue. The members of the unfortunate guest list, at this stage now desperate, began hunting around the graves for some clue but to no avail. Williams, utterly convinced about his righteousness drove that same day to the library and after hours of searching found the story of the Bibton ten. When he returned he found an ambulance sitting outside number 4.

It was past midnight when he knocked on the door of number one Brook Lane. The elderly vicar opened the door and invited him in. After a brief conversation they pulled on their thick overcoats and knocked on the door of number three., there was no answer and so made their way past the church and to the field just beyond the wall. They walked the small poorly maintained patch. They weren’t sure what they were looking for.

Suddenly Williams began hopping from one foot to another pointing to the floor. The vicar joined him and immediately pulled his prayer book from his pocket. He said a number of prayers over the grave before turning and heading out onto Brook Lane and towards home. It wasn’t long after this that the driver of the car lost control swerving into both Williams and the vicar killing them both instantly along with the driver of the car, Melanie Peters, the now former resident of 3 Brook Street.

Had anyone cared to check, there were no ribbons left in the tree.  At least not until Easter.