Helland
Of Helland, principally known for its two circular earthworks called "The Castles," is told this story. The vicar being called away unexpectedly, left his neighbour of Blisland to make arrangements for the customary services. He did so with the Archdeacon, and in due course the Vicar of Helland received the following telegram:
"The Archdeacon of Cornwall is going to hell, and you need not return."
Bodmin
These moorland parishes cover about ten square miles. They are not entirely sterile, some parts being capable of cultivation and others giving good pasture for cattle; but, on the whole, the impression left is of a bracing and breezy waste, one of the happy spaces not yet brought under the dominion of man. And with never a turn the broad white road runs uphill and down dale and so to Bod Mynydd, the dwelling under the hill, the only name that appears on the earliest maps.
In Domesday Bodmin was the largest town in Cornwall, having actually sixty-eight houses, not to speak of a market. Curfew is still rung in Bodmin Church at 8 p.m., and being situated conveniently in the centre of the county the hilly, straggling town has gradually increased in importance. The Cornish were such an unruly folk, so fond of rebellion and blood-letting, that no town of theirs but had its vicissitudes; nor were the troubles of Bodmin only due to their restless energy. In 1348 certain carriers brought a string of pack mules laden with rich merchandise into the town. The bales contained embroidered robes of velvet and satin, pearl-sewn gloves, plumed hats and silken hose, all at a reasonable price. Bodmin folk were used to smuggled goods, had even had the treasures of wrecked ships hawked through their streets. They saw no reason therefore to be cautious; and the goods were purchased, the carriers paid; and forthwith the men led their mules out of the little town and took the road back to Plymouth. The silver pennies were safe in their pouches, and it would be better not to wait.
Before long a sickness broke out among the people of Bodmin, a sickness unlike any that they had known before, which was not strange when we consider that the fine clothes had belonged to Londoners who had perished in the Black Death. News travelled slowly in those days and Bodmin had not known. But whereas when the carriers came there had been three thousand people in the town, when the sickness passed there were but half that number.
Bodmin suffered again after the religious rising of the people in Edward VI.'s reign. According to fact, Sir Anthony Kingston, Provost-Marshal, was sent down from London to punish the rebels. According to tradition he is said to have carried out his instructions with a grim pleasantry all his own. "Boyer, Mayor of Bodmin," runs the story, "had been amongst the rebels against his will; to him the Provost sent word that he would dine with him; therefore the Mayor made great preparations. A little before dinner the Provost took the Mayor aside and whispered him in the ear that an execution must be done in the town that day, and desired that a gallows might be set by the time dinner was over. Presently, when the meal was at an end, the Provost, taking the Mayor by the hand, asked to be led to the place where the gallows was, and looking at it asked the Mayor if he thought it strong enough.
"'Doubtless,' said the Mayor.
"'Come then, my friend,' said the Provost with a bitter grin, 'get thee up speedily, for thou hast prepared it for thyself.'