A Norman castle

Deep in the heart of Miserden Park is a Norman castle. It is a motte and bailey, a massive mound of turf and soil, originally accompanied by a courtyard and surrounding ditch. Surmounting the motte was a shell keep, a stone wall inside of which there would have been wooden buildings. Today, there’s little to see for walkers in the estate; just the mound, now camouflaged by the vegetation which all but hides it from view.

Why would anyone want to build a castle here, in the middle of nowhere? Flowing past the motte is an apology for a river, the Frome; once a moat for the castle. Follow the river valley to the north and you come to another Norman site, Brimpsfield Castle, now nothing more than a tumbledown mound. Brimpsfield leads to a road, the Ermin Way, one of the great Roman roads still in use today, linking Gloucester with Cirencester. Trace the river southwards and you come to the Stroud valley, another of nature’s routes through the Cotswolds. What is now nothing more than a twisting track through the trees was once a vital north south route which the Normans needed to make secure; and security meant a castle.

That was the case with Brimpsfield. Miserden is different. The earliest mention of it is in 1146. This was a time variously described as civil war or merely as anarchy. On the death of Henry I, his relatives – daughter, Matilda, and nephew Stephen, fought for the English throne. Stephen grabbed the throne, but Matilda mounted an invasion, prompted by a rebellion in South West England. It was a chaotic period. Chroniclers said that ‘Christ and his saints were asleep.’

The castle was built by Robert Musard. In times of insecurity, the best insurance policy was to build a castle; so so that’s what Robert did. In the end, it didn’t do him any good. He backed Matilda, was killed in the fighting, and his castle was seized by Matilda’s half brother, Philip of Gloucester.

Miserden has escaped the heritage industry, Most people who walk their dogs through the estate are probably oblivious of its existence. Maybe that’s a good thing. A few cut out cardboard soldiers and a souvenir shop would do nothing for the estate’s unspoilt tranquillity, but it’s a shame that the motte is so neglected. The firs that cling to the mound could be cleared, exposing the motte to view, and maybe an explanatory plaque could be installed. It’s the least that could be done for the memory of Robert Musard.