Trifter

The above picture is of the very small North Norfolk village of Cley-Next-The-Sea.  It’s a typical Norfolk scene – windmill, reed cutters on saltmarshes, pastel painted and flint cottages…  “but where’s the sea?” you’re probably wondering.  “Has global warming hit Norfolk full on?” I hear you cry.  Thereby hangs a tale!!

Cley (whose name derives from ‘clay’), as a community, was certainly around pre Domesday and its current idyllic demeanour belies its hectic history. 

During the Middle Ages it was very much ‘next the sea’ and, together with the nearby villages of Blakeney and Wiveton, formed the Blakeney Haven which was, at one time, in the Top Ten of British harbours.  Norfolk had long been known for its grain and fine cloth (Worsted began its life here in Norfolk) and so it was natural that we wanted to encourage merchants and traders.  Cley did a lot of wheeling and dealing with the Dutch and this connection can still be seen in the architecture of some of the older buildings as the ‘Dutch gable’ was adopted, presumably to make our Netherlands neighbours feel at home (ah, bless!).

In 1349 the bustling town was held in the grip of the Black Death, a period when the population in the county of Norfolk fell by up to one half, but despite the set-back, Cley regained it’s hold on the wool market.

But our tale of pillage and piracy begins in 1406 when one Nicholas Steyard of Cley set sail upon the High Seas with his ‘contra’band of merry men.  Whilst cruising nonchalantly along the shores his mateys spied a ship-a-sailing, the Maryenknyght, which appeared to be a merchant ship.  Thinking it may net them a grand haul of goodies, the crew boarded the Maryenknyght and got more than they bargained for – they took possession of the usual haul but they also discovered an 11 year old boy who they discovered was no less than a young Prince James (later to become James I of Scotland).

James’ father, Robert III of Scotland (Robert the Bruce) had secreted his son aboard the Maryenknyght hoping to smuggle him away to France for safety.  James’ older brother had already been assassinated by his Uncle Albany who had his eye on the Scottish throne, and Robert feared that his younger son, may well be next on Albany’s ‘to do’ list.

James was brought ashore and consequently placed into the hands of Henry IV of England and imprisoned in the Tower of London.  Shortly after James’ capture, Robert the Bruce died so strictly James became James I but, despite a demand for ransom from Henry IV, as avaricious Uncle Albany had taken up the reins in Scotland  in his young nephew’s absence, there appeared to be no rush to secure poor James’ release so he remained within England’s green and pleasant land (or four green, dank and slimy walls) for another 18 years.  Fortunately, during that time Henry IV looked after his captive well.  James received a good education, as was befitting a noble, and when he was 18 he fell in love with Lady Joan Beaufort, who was related to Henry IV, and on the death of Albany, a ransom of £40,000 was eventually paid to secure James’ release.  He then married the light of his life and the newly-weds returned to Scotland as husband and wife in 1424.   James was swiftly crowned and began to do whatever it is that kings did at that time – passing laws, waving to his adoring fans … and they all lived happily ever after.  Well, actually no, they didn’t!  James was assassinated in February 1437.  Fortunately, Joan and their young son James managed to escape to safety.

Now, back to the south!  I wondered why Nicholas Steyard had turned to piracy when it seemed that Cley was a thriving community economically.  Not only was it known for trading but, due to its proximity to the rest of Europe across the North Sea, it was also vital in times of war, and the fishing industry was immense.  However, from a bit of ferreting and delving into the depths of the National Archives, I came across an entry from 1383.  It seemed Nicholas Steyard of Cley had taken Court action against Adam Lawes of Corpusty (a village a few miles further inland from Cley) as Nicholas was owed £60 which, as you can imagine, was a massive sum in those days.  The application was heard before Thomas de Bumpstead, Mayor of Norwich on 3 March of that year.  So maybe Nicholas had been a trader or a merchant but had fallen on hard times due to unpaid debts.  For whatever reason, it seems he’d turned to piracy by 1406.

So that’s the connection between the pirate and prince.

Following this excitement, things settled back to some sort of norm, folks went about their business and records show that in 1570 Cley had 13 ships and 65 mariners.  Cley, together with Blakeney and Wiveton, were able to muster 36 ships in total for the Navy during the Spanish Armada of 1588 but, relatively unnoticed it seemed, the sea was gradually receding.

At the time that the harbour was fully functional, Cley overlooked the estuary of the River Glaven but the coastline, being more or less at right angles to the tide, acted as a natural barrier against the tide (a groyne).  This meant that sandbars formed that, in turn, led to the estuary slowly silting up and from there saltmarshes began to form.  This natural progression wasn’t helped by a local landowner, Henry Calthorpe, who in 1637 decided rather sneakily to reclaim some of the newly formed saltmarshes for agriculture by putting an unauthorised dam across the Glaven.  Although the dam was eventually demolished after a petition to the King, damage had already been done as the river course had silted up still further but Cley was still able to function as a harbour at that time.

In 1649, due to the river silting up further inland, a series of banks had to be built to prevent the tide from flooding the village which caused the coastline to continue to silt up and eventually the sea receded to such an extent that Cley had to set new wharves further back.

In the 1700s a customs house was built to deal with illegal trading and smugglers.  However, the sea continued to recede and eventually the wharves were no longer viable.  By the mid 19th century, with Cley unable to attract any interest from those involved in the latest craze of steam railways, the economy took a nose dive and unemployment rose (sound familiar??) and in 1853 the customs house was forced to close.

So that’s our conundrum done and dusted!  Now, what about the connection with the pop singer?

The windmill may well have had its origins dating back to the 1700s but it seems that the mill as we see it today was built in the early 19th century and in 1921 it was bought by Sarah Wilson who converted it into a holiday home.  In 1934 it passed to Sarah’s grandson, Hubert Blount and in 1979 it passed into the hands of Charles and Jane Blount, who had a son James.  James Blount, having served in the British Army (Life Guards), left the forces and became the world renowned and extremely talented singer/songwriter James Blunt.  For you old fogeys out there who haven’t heard of James, I’ve attached a link so you can find out a bit more about him.

http://www.jamesblunt.com

Cley, these days, because of its pretty pastel coloured cottages, its windmill and its eerily beautiful saltmarshes and reed beds, is awash with holidaymakers during the summer months.  During the winter months the village becomes even more eerie as most of the cottages have now been bought as holiday homes so remain empty but this is the time that us locals take advantage of the situation and we can be found on brisk, frosty, autumn and winter Sundays wandering the windswept, brackish marshes with flasks of tea and soup, cheese sarnies, digital cameras and binoculars watching the birds skimming across the desolate landscape or silhouetted against the wintry bronze and slate grey skies.