It was a picturesque spot and many visitors came to see it. History attached to it, romance threw a halo round, there were many stories associated with it, some true, others doubtful, the more doubtful the more interesting. Murder had been committed within its walls in the time of the first Edward; and even down to the Georges; it possessed an unenviable reputation for dark deeds and mysterious crimes.
It was used as a prison in the Tudor times and tradition said many a man had been done to death there without just cause.
Men employed at Trent Park in various capacities reported having seen weird sights: shadowy, wailing figures, mostly women, flitting about, even rising out of the moat where, it was said, bodies had been found, or, to be more correct, skeletons.
The villagers of Little Trent shunned it after nightfall; youngsters were frightened into obedience by threats to bring the moat ghosts after them.
It was a round keep, built of massive stone, the walls ivy-covered, the base green with moss, damp and age.
A massive oak door studded with large-headed nails creaked on its rusty hinges when opened, which was seldom.
A visitor from New York received permission to examine the keep, tower, and moat in search of historical data and facts. He stayed at the Sherwood Inn at Little Trent. One evening he returned from his explorations with a white, frightened face; when questioned he shivered but gave no answers. He hurriedly took his departure and, from stray bits of paper in the fire-grate in his room, it was surmised he had burnt his copious notes about the keep, no doubt being terrified by some ghostly warning to destroy them.
The ruins of a monastery stood at the other end of the Park. A stately pile of crumbling mortar, and stones shifting from places they occupied for centuries. The outer walls stood and inside the square was a keeper's cottage hidden in a warm snug corner, concealed from prying eyes, unnoticeable until the ruin was entered.
A curious place to build a cottage, and nobody seemed to know who put it up or for what purpose the place was selected. It was there when William Chesney bought the estate and it was a long time before he knew of its existence.
Tom Thrush, head gamekeeper at Trent Park, occupied it, living there with his daughter Jane, a pretty girl of twenty, a lonely place for her; yet she liked it and loved to wander in the woods and roam about in the great forest bordering on the Park.