The Screaming Skulls

At CVS, it matters that we're not just in your community, but that we're part of it. It matters that we're here for you when you need us, day or night. And we want everyone to feel welcomed and rewarded. It matters that CVS is here to fill your prescriptions and here to fill your craving for a tasty and, yeah, healthy snack. At CVS, we're proud to serve your community because we believe where you get your medicine matters. So visit us at CVS.com or just come by our store. We can't wait to meet you. Store hours vary by location. Shake it up with Vital Protein's Collagen and Protein Shake. It's a high-quality, ready-to-drink shake with 30 grams of protein and 10 grams of collagen to support healthy hair, skin, nails, bones, and joints. With zero grams of added sugar, no artificial sweeteners, and absolutely no carrageenan, it's a clean, delicious way to fuel your day. So you don't just age gracefully, you age powerfully. Vital Proteins, stay vital. Learn more at VitalProteins.com. Astonishing Legends Network. Thanks to our sponsors and Patreon supporters, Astonishing Legends is free to listen to. We appreciate your support of them and us. In an old Dorset manor, a skull rests in its niche. The legend says it belonged to a slave who died far from home, his final wish ignored. This particular story is wrong, but the skull remains, as does the legend. Because to move it means the house will rock, and the one who moved it will die within a year. On Tunstead Farm in Derbyshire, a skull known to everyone within 100 miles as Dickie once sat on a windowsill. It was said to be a guardian, but only if left undisturbed. When a railway company tried to build a bridge nearby, the project suffered constant setbacks and was finally abandoned. The locals knew who to blame. In Yorkshire, the skull of a young woman named Anne is reportedly bricked up inside the walls of her family home. She only wanted her head to remain in the house she loved. After her death, the family learned the consequences of ignoring her request. In Greater Manchester, a skull now revered as the relic of a Catholic saint once caused a terrible storm when a servant tried to dispose of it in the moat. These are just some of the screaming skulls of England. Are they the tormented spirits of the dead, forever bound to a single place? Or is there another explanation? Some theories point to a forgotten Celtic reverence for the head. Others suggest a more practical origin, as tools for folk medicine. Or perhaps as macabre souvenirs left over from an age obsessed with mortality. But isn't that every age? These astonishing legends are clear on one point. The screaming skulls must not be moved. Tonight, we'll introduce you to some of the most famous ones, and you can decide if there's something to it. Or is it all just folklore? Welcome back to Astonishing Legends. I'm Scott Philbrook, and this is Forrest Burgess. And so it happens that our bones are kept in a cheese vat in the farmhouse which stands in the staircase window. If the bones are removed from the vat, trouble comes upon the house. Strange noises are heard at night. The cattle die, or are seized with illness. Page 57 of Household Tales and Traditional Remains by Sidney Oldell Addy, 1895. Join us tonight for the legend of the Screaming Skulls of Britain. And we're back. That we are, folks. Mostly back anyway. Still many things afoot in our personal lives, but we're doing our best to stay on top of things. And with that, we're super excited about tonight's episode and introduction into the spooky season. It's a lot of creepy fun. Oh, and Astonishing Al will be so quite pleased because it, well, it's a skull. It's a skull story. What could be scarier or more representative of Halloween than a skull? So, yes, it is. But, you know, just quickly, our Halloween merch is right around the corner. So keep your eyes, ears, and everything else peeled, as long as it doesn't hurt. Because we have a limited run shirt coming out this year, which will be announced soon. Yes, we do. And also, I just came back from appearing live with Richard Haddam for his Light in the Dark tour in Washington, D.C. at Kramer's Bookstore. And just wanted to thank everyone that came out and said hello to us personally. We had a lot of fun. Oh, and it looked like so much fun. And I sorely wished I was there. And just to see which cocktail Rich would have recommended for the evening to go with the mood and the vibe there. Well, on that note, I'm going to give a shout out to Gigi at the Doyle, who had her own signature cocktail called the White Elephant that Rich loved so much. He got into like a 20-minute conversation with her at midnight. And I think he's going to do a special Instagram post. Oh, nice. I love those. Yeah, his special cocktail fixings. That's just like the Raymond with their alien swimming pool, I think it was called. They get a little bendy alien that goes and hangs on the side of your martini glass. Rich and I had four or five of those each. In any case, so you saw Tess there too, right? Yeah, Tess was there. It's always great to see her. Then Richard and his better half Susan Lambert Haddam, as well as Kayla Lord, who helps us ride herd on our collection of Squarespace websites. But the crowd that showed up were just such wonderful people. And Rich really did an amazing job. It's great watching him perform live. Oh, absolutely. I saw clips from the reading, and it looked terrific. Anyway, they're so great. And we love his merch as well, don't we? Yeah. Speaking of which, by the way, if he has any left over after his tour, he's got a couple more cities. You may be able to get it on our website as well as his. We're working on sorting that out. All right, folks. This one was recommended to us by none other than the aforementioned Tess Feifel, who, of course, did a blog astonishing entry on it in October of 2021. Because she's done so many entries on our blog, it's like its own thing now. People visit our website that have never even heard any of our shows just to check out the blog. They're just there for that. And speaking of which, blog astonishing is about to be up and running again in just a few days. That is right. You know, in October. And yes, I had a comment on that. What I notice is that people will search on keywords for really obscure, cool stories they heard somewhere else. And Tess has obviously written a blog about it. So, and then sometimes we'll go like, is there any research out there? Oh, yes. Tess wrote about that. That's right. So anyway, we're surprised as well, delightfully. And yes, so Tess posts a new blog entry every single day for October for your daily dose of Astonishing Legends. Wait, is that a typo? Are you? No, no. I think you just got in case twice. Oh, okay. Well, anyway. So daily blog entries by Tess for the entire month of October at astonishinglegends.com slash AL dash blog. Or just go to the main page and you'll see it there in the menus. All righty then. Now, where do we dive in here tonight, my good man? All right. Well, first things first. These legends are historically complex, which is why with all we have going on, we had to delay the release of this show a week. It was supposed to come out last week, but let's just say we got a little bit sidetracked. Are you saying that we actually strove to be historically accurate on this? Yes, we did. We did. We did some work. You know what? I think after 10 years, people believe that we make a little bit of effort in that field, but we do. Yeah, that's true. I love history and I don't know about you, Scott. I feel this way about certain genres. One, historical stories like these to get as much of the original root information as we can. But I also feel that way about Westerns, historical movies, and spy movies and war movies. I want verisimilitude. I don't know anything about actually being a cowboy in the time period or actually being a spy. Everything I've learned, I've learned from Tom Clancy and Robert Ludlam. So that's the bar. I don't know if it's a real bar. It's a fictional bar. What I'm saying is that it's maybe a reverse or akin to an uncanny valley when, you know, look, I love camp too. And I love these types of campy stories about scary happenings in old castles and such. Yeah. But sometimes there's a tone to it. And the story that we're going to cover first here, when we looked it over, I had that feeling of like there's something, yeah, it could be totally made up, sure. But there's something to it. And I think overall, you know, we wanted to have our ducks in a row on this stuff. We wanted to at least, you know, no one ever really finds out the exact story. Even if you were there, people are going to dispute you and your eyewitness testimony. Yeah, that's right. That's right. Well, tonight we're talking about the screaming skulls of England. And while many of these stories are tied to old manor houses and farms scattered across England, one of the earliest tales actually takes us to Scotland, which you probably already suspected if you're a longtime listener of Astonishing Legends, when you heard the word greyfriars. But this is not that greyfriars in Edinburgh. It actually connects us back to the site of a former greyfriars monastery in the ancient town of St. Andrews, Scotland. Ooh, St. Andrews. Well, we loved that street in Hollywood, too, didn't we? Yes. Yeah. But, you know, for folks wondering, our very first spooky season series was about greyfriars' Kirkyard in Edinburgh, which you can find in our back catalog, no doubt. But there was something – it got us into the Scottish mood of just the weather, I think. Yes. It just squeezes out the spooky like a toothpaste tube. And the other thing that's fun about this that I should mention is being in St. Andrews is that I had family that lived there. My wife, sister, and husband lived there for a while while they were studying theology. That's right. That's Dr. Tim, who we used to talk about on the show in the early days, who still listens very faithfully, by the way. Thank you, Tim. I seem to remember – I think he said that golf was invented there. Like, that's the home of golf, St. Andrews, Scotland. Going back to my previous statement, that sounds like everything I've heard and read about golf. But, of course, then you do some more digging and you find out, like, well, actually, it's contested. But I'll go with that. I'm going to go with that. Yes. And this story, we were still pretty green and unrefined. We were just stumbling our way through all this stuff. Not that we're doing much better now, but I would hope after 10 years we were a bit more refined and less green. Well, I do feel, though, that the old episodes do have a certain charm. Oh, well, perhaps not. But for those of you wondering about what a gray friar is, it's a member of the Franciscan Order of Friars. Remember Friar Tuck and all those fun characters there? Oh, of course. The brothers founded by St. Francis of Assisi in the early 13th century. Wow, that's going way back. And their nickname comes from the gray or brown habits, the cloaks there, the robes they traditionally wore, which was a simple garment that matched their vow of humility. And the gray habits were gray because they were an undyed wool, keeping to the simple. There's just gray undyed, natural, plain. There you go. No frills. And it was a further symbol of their devotion to the Franciscan Order. And these were mendicant friars, meaning they owned nothing and they depended on the kindness of others. And they begged for a living, they committed to poverty, and they spent their days preaching, caring for the poor and tending to the sick. Pretty virtuous. Anyway, their work was as much about the community service as it was about faith. And that was, of course, rooted in St. Francis' ideals of simplicity and compassion. Yeah, and according to newadvent.org, in different regions, gray friars can refer specifically to the order of friars minor, especially the observant branches, who kept to strict practices and wore that distinctive habit. But over centuries, the name stuck, and that became kind of a shorthand for just the Franciscan presence. Right, so that's why Grayfriars Kirkyard is not the only Grayfriars, and neither is Grayfriars Monastery at the center of the story behind this first screaming skull we're going to share with you tonight. Yeah, now some of these legends are older than this one, but the oldest skull we're talking about tonight goes back to around the year 1513. And it begins with a man from a very prominent family, Neville de Beauchamp. Oh, what a great name. What a great name for a dog, too. I think, but, and I love the 1500s when things were still magical, like the black shuck, that kind of stuff. Anyway, this telling of de Beauchamp's story comes to us from a man who claimed to have crossed paths with a descendant of the family, writer William Thomas Linskillet. And he was an English novelist and short story writer who lived from about 1836 to 1896. Although he's not exactly famous, he did write a well-known book called St. Andrew's Ghost Stories in 1891. And they're pretty good, frankly. And from within it, we find the story of the screaming skull that belonged to Neville de Beauchamp. Forrest, if you would, sir. I never met a better fellow in the world than my old friend, Alan Beauchamp. He had been educated at Eton and Magdalene at Oxford, after which he joined a crack regiment and later on took it into his head to turn doctor. He was a great traveler and a magnificent athlete. There was no game in the world in which he did not excel. Curiously enough, he hated music, he had no ear for it, and he did not know the difference between the airs of Tommy Make Room for Your Uncle and The Lost Chord. He was tremendously proud of his pedigree. He had descended from the De Beauchamps, and one of his ancestors, he gravely informed people, had helped Noah to get the wasps and elephants into the ark. Another of them seems to have been not very far away in the Garden of Eden. In fact, they seem to have been quite prehistoric. He was quite cracked on the subject of brain transference, telepathy, spiritualism, ghosts, warnings, and the like, and on these points he was most uncanny and fearsome. The literature he had about them was blood-curdling. He believed in dual personality and in visions, horoscopes, and dreams. He showed me a pamphlet he had written, entitled, The Toad-Faced Demon of Lone Devil's Dyke. He was always flitting about Britain, exploring haunted houses and castles, and sleeping in haunted rooms when it was possible. Some years ago, Beauchamp and myself, accompanied by his faithful valet, rejoicing in the name of Pellingham Truffles, went to the highlands for a bit of quiet and rest, and it was there I heard his curious story of the skull. We were sitting over a cozy fire after dinner. It was snowing hard outside, and very cold. Our pipes were alight, and our grog on the table, when Alan Beauchamp suddenly remarked, It is a deuced curious thing for a man to be always followed about the place by a confounded grinning skull. Uh, what? I said. Who the deuce is being followed about by a skull? It's rubbish and quite impossible. Not a bit, said my friend. I've had a skull after me more or less for several years. It sounds like a remark a lunatic would make, I rejoined rather crossly. Do not talk bunkum. You'll go dotty if you believe such infernal rot. It's not bunkum or rot a bit, said Alan. It's gospel truth. Ask Truffles. Ask Jack Weston or Jimmy Darkgood or any of my South Country pals. I do not know Jack Weston or Jimmy Darkgood, I said. But tell me the whole story, and someday, if it's good, I'll put it in the St. Andrew's Citizen. It's mostly about St. Andrews, said Beauchamp. So here goes. But shove on some coals first. I did so, and then requested him to fire away. It was long, long ago, I think about the year 1513, that one of my ancestors, a man called Neville de Beauchamp, resided in Scotland. It seems he was an uncommonly wild dog, went in for racing and cards, and could take his wine and ale with any of them, even in those hard-drinking days. He was known as Flash Neville. Later on, he married a pretty girl, the daughter of a silk mercer in Perth, who, it seems, died. They said of a broken heart. Two years after, Neville de Beauchamp was seized with awful remorse, and became shortly after a monk in Greyfriars Monastery at St. Andrews. After Neville's wife's death, her relations seemed to have been on the hunt after him, burning for revenge. And the girl's brother, rough, wild dog in those stormy days, at last managed to track down his quarry in the monastery at St. Andrews. Very interesting, I said. That monastery stood very nearly on the site of the present infant school, and we found the well in 1880. Well, what did this brother do, eh? It seems that one afternoon, after Vespers, he forced his way into the monastery chapel, sought out Neville de Beauchamp, and slashed off his head with a sword in the Isle of the Kirk. Now a queer thing happened. His body fell on the floor, but the severed head, with a wild scream, flew up to the chapel's ceiling and vanished through its roof. Mighty queer that, I said. The body was reverently buried, went on Alan, but the head never was recovered, and, whirling through the air over the monastery, screaming and groaning most pitifully, it used to cause great terror to the monks and others all nights. It was a well-known story, and few cared to venture in that locality after nightfall. The head soon became a skull, and since that time has always haunted some member of the house of Beauchamp. Now comes a strange thing. I went a few years ago, and lived in rooms at St. Andrew's for a change, and while there I heard of my uncle's death somewhere abroad. I had never seen him, but I had frequently heard that he was very much perplexed and worried by the tender attentions paid him by the skull of Neville de Beauchamp, which was always turning up at odd times and in unexpected places. This is a grand tale, I said. Now I come on the job, said Alan ruefully. That uncle was the very last of our family, and I wondered if that skull would come my way. I felt very ill and nervous after I got the news of my uncle's death. A strange sense of depression and oppression overcame me, and I got very restless. One stormy evening, I felt impelled by some strange influence to go out. I wandered about the place for several hours. I got drenched. I felt as if I were walking in my sleep, or as if I had taken some drug or other. Then I had a sort of vision. I had just rounded the corner of North Bell Street. Now called Greyfriars Garden, I remarked. Yes, well, when I got around that corner, I saw a large, strange building before me. I opened a wicket gate and entered what I found to be the chapel. The service was over, the lights were being extinguished, and the air was laden with incense. As I knelt in a corner of the chapel, I saw the whole scene. The tragedy, of which I had heard, enacted all over again. I saw that monk in the aisle. I saw a man rush in and cut off his head. I saw the body fall, and the head fly up with a shriek to the roof. When I came to myself, I found I was sitting on the low wall of the school. I was very cold and wet, and I got up to go home. As I rose, I saw lying on the pavement at my feet what appeared to be a small football. I gave it a vicious kick, went to my whore, it turned over, and I saw it was a skull. It was gnashing its teeth and moaning. Then, with a shriek, it flew up in the air and vanished. A horrible thing. Then I knew the worst. The skull of the monk, Neville de Beauchamp, had attached itself to me for life. I being the last of the race. Since then, it is almost always with me. Where is it now? I said, shuddering. Not very far away, you bet, he said. It's a most unpleasant tale, I said. Good night. I'm off to bed after that. I was in my first sleep about an hour afterwards, when a knock came at my door, and the valet came in. Sorry to disturb you, sir, he said. But the skull has just come back. It's in the next room. Would you like to see it? Certainly not, I roared. Get away, and let me go to sleep. Then and there, I firmly resolved to leave next morning. I hated skulls, and I fancied that probably it might take a fancy to me, and I had no desire to be followed about the country by a skull, as if it were a fox terrier. Next morning, I went in to breakfast. Where is that beastly skull? I said to Alan. Oh, it's off again somewhere. Heaven knows where. But I have had another vision. A waking vision. What was it? Well, said Alan, I saw the skull, and a white hand which seemed to beckon to me beside it. Then they slowly receded, and in their place was what looked like a big sheet of paper. On it, in large letters, were the words, Your friend, Jack Weston, is dead. This morning, I got this wire telling me of his sudden death. Read it. That afternoon, I left the Highlands and Alan Beauchamp. Since then, I have constant letters coming from him from his home in England. He has tried every possible means to get rid of that monk's skull, but they are of no avail. It always returns. So, he has made the best he can of it, and keeps it in a locked casket in an empty room at the end of a wing of the old house. He says it keeps fairly quiet, but on stormy nights, wails and gruesome shrieks are heard from the casket in that closed apartment. I heard from him last week. He said, Dear WTL, I don't think I mentioned that twice a year the skull of Neville de Beauchamp vanishes from its casket for a period of about two days. It is never away longer. I wonder if it still haunts its old monastery at St. Andrews, where its owner was slain. Do write and tell me if anyone now in that vicinity hears or sees the screaming skull of my ancestor, Neville de Beauchamp. Hello, hello. I'm Malcolm Gladwell, host of Smart Talks with IBM. I recently spoke with IBM's new director of research, Jake Embatta. We discussed his vision for the future of quantum computing. At IBM Research, what we always do is answer what is the future of computing, whether it's coming up with new algorithms, coming up with better AI, coming up with quantum, or coming up with just how do different accelerators go together. It's our DNA to answer the question of what is the future. Isn't it a perfect problem for IBM because you kind of need to have a legacy of building stuff? Yes. Building actual physical machines. Yeah, it's why I came to IBM. I wanted the experience, the culture of building hard things that others have not done before. Where do you imagine we are in the timeline of this technology? There will come a point when it will mature, right? Yeah. My cell phone is a mature technology at this point. How far are we from that point with quantum? By 2029, we'll build the first fault-tolerant quantum computer. That is one that can run a very, very large, large problem. To learn how IBM is building the future of computing, visit ibm.com slash quantum. All right, quick quiz for the hiring managers out there. What's worse, being understaffed or being poorly staffed? Well, that's a trick question because both are recipes for chaos. Either way, just say to yourself, this is a job for Indeed's sponsored jobs. You'll get matched with candidates that meet the skills, certifications, and everything else you're looking for. Or go a different way and get no traction. Seriously, sponsored jobs posted directly on Indeed are 95% more likely to report a hire than non-sponsored jobs. It really is a no-brainer. Spend less time searching and more time actually interviewing candidates who check all your boxes. Less stress, less time, more results. When you need the right person to cut through the chaos, this is a job for Indeed's sponsored jobs. And listeners of this show will get a $75 sponsored job credit to help your job get the premium status it deserves at indeed.com slash podcast. Just go to indeed.com slash podcast right now. Indeed.com slash podcast. Terms and conditions apply. Need to hire? This is a job for Indeed's sponsored jobs. On eBay, every find has a story. Like if you're looking for a vintage band tee. Not just a tee. The band tee. From the last show your favorite band ever played. You wore it everywhere. Then, your BFF started glaring it. Which was cute. Until they unfriended you and took it with them. Which was not so cute. Anyway, now you're on eBay. And there it is. Same tee from the same tour. Still living in your memory. Rent free forever. See? The things you love have a way of finding their way back to you. But eBay isn't just for getting whatever your ex-BFF stole back. It's also for that rare championship foul ball you caught. Then, heroically, gave to the kid next to you. And where else are you going to find your first car? The one you wish you never sold. But now, you finally get the chance to take back home. For good this time. Shop eBay for millions of finds. Each with a story. eBay. Things people love. Man, that is an outstanding story. And you did an outstanding reading and performance, sir. I love how the dialogue. You were like, and then I said, I can't do that kind of reading. Thank you so much, my good friend. Now, I wish, you know, these things have to be practiced, unless you have natural talent, which I do not. And so, we do these a lot. And it's like, okay, we've sussed out the story. We kind of refined it, put it in our notes or script. You know, we get to reading it. And I felt bad for this one, because, you know, it's like, oh, this is really cool when you first read it. And then when you go to actually read it out loud into a microphone, you realize, like, man, this is dramatic. You can picture it. I pictured it so clearly in my mind. Yeah, well written. Well, so tell me this, okay, I think I already know the answer, but did you do your traditional astonishing deep dive ancestry research for Neville de Beauchamp? Actually, I did, and cue the tangent music, which we've never had, but this probably qualifies as a good old-fashioned Astonishing Legends tangent, but it does connect to the larger story. All right, do it, man. Firstly, I can find no record of a person named Neville de Beauchamp. I've put some notes together here. If you're up for it, we can read through them for the listeners. Now, I'm presenting them to you here for the first time, but I think you're going to enjoy what's going on. Yeah, excellent. You know, I am super curious about this, which is also what happens when you get older. You start to take an interest in genealogy. But this is, no, I want to know, again, it's what we said at the top of the show. I want to know what's going on here. Who are these people? What's the earliest known mention of them, and are they real? Right. So the Beauchamp family is exceptionally well-documented, and this is one of the things I love about ancestry, especially if you get back to people that are kind of famous, a million people underneath them are like, ooh, I want to say I'm related to that person. So they're all flushing out the research and doing these ancestry trees, and you can find a lot of information because the people, when you go back even to this time period, the 1500s, 1600s, or whatever, they have literally thousands of descendants, and a lot of them are into genealogy. So you get good research. So that's why this family is pretty well-documented. Now, they trace their origins to Normandy, arriving in England with the Norman Conquest. That's from the 11th century onward. The name Beauchamp or de Beauchamp became associated with landed power, military service, and ties to the royal court. Okay, nothing to sneeze at here. Well, you know, early generations acquired estates across England. By the 12th and 13th centuries, members of the family held important regional positions, such as sheriffs, knights, and feudal lords. And their fortunes rose through royal service, which a lot of nobility did that. You rise up with the power of the king, and you stay in good favor, and your lands grow as does your wealth. But also things like royal service, marriage alliances, big deal there, and strategic land holdings, especially in the Midlands and southern counties. Meaning, if you own a piece of property that was, yeah, important for battle, like a through fair where supplies could be marched through, very, very key. Right. So one of the most prominent branches of this family produced the Earls of Warwick. The Beauchamps of Warwick became influential magnates in the 14th and 15th centuries, famous for military leadership in the Hundred Years' War, and for wielding considerable political influence at home. Ah, yes, that old Hundred Years' War. Thank goodness we're not experiencing anything that long. But yeah, the Hundred Years' War, who hasn't heard of it? Well, probably a lot of folks. But the name sticks, even if you don't know much about it. Well, it was actually 116 years. And so the war lasted through five kings, if you can believe that, five kingships. But according to your notes here, you know, Richard de Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick, in the early 15th century, exemplifies the family's stature because he was a trusted commander, a diplomat, a patron of chivalric culture. Very much valued back then. Well, his career combined battlefield command with courtly duties, and he was celebrated in his own time. So, Scott, as you know, again, we know our knowledge from watching a lot of shows. But this is that you have to have a combination of not only like military prowess, but you've got to spend time at the court kissing butt and doing a lot of gamesmanship. One of my favorite series, Wolf Hall, is a great, and that would be the reign of Henry VIII in the 1530s or so. So it just shows you all that. Yeah, a lot of times are different, and as were the elements and customs and styles and knowledge, but like people were no less sharp as far as Machiavellian prowess. That's right. Well, like many noble houses, the de Beauchamp's fortunes waxed and waned. They secured power through marriages, linking to other great families, and through service to the crown. Their heraldry, estates, and patronage of local churches left a visible mark on the medieval landscape, for sure. Yeah, and keep this in mind. This is the late medieval period, and much like HBO's Succession series, there was a lot to contend with to stay on top. You know, disputes, shifting royal favor, and the Wars of the Roses affected their holdings and influence. Yeah, the Wars of the Roses were essentially a civil war, really, fought between rival branches of the Plantagenet family for control of the English throne. Another great surname. Anyways, right. Yes. Okay, anyway, so branches of the de Beauchamps rose and fell as, you know, politics, inheritances that reshaped aristocratic power. So it's like Dallas, except it's in the 1500s. Oh my God, no one's going to remember that. Yeah, right. Oh, really? Oh, boy. That's what I said Succession was. It was just an updated version of Dallas and Law. That's right. So we've always had these kind of great family dramas, and this is a, this is what you're telling us, is a real one. Real historical folks here. Yeah. Yeah, and beyond the earldom, lesser branches of the de Beauchamp name appear in regional records as knights, stewards, local gentry. They managed manners, administered justice, participated in county politics. These are all roles that kept the family embedded in the local government for hundreds of years. Yeah, they were those kind of people. You know, you haven't, now they probably just run your HOA and annoy the heck out of you. But anyway, that's how you do it. You know, you want to stay in power and wealth. So culturally, the Beauchamps were patrons of religious houses and benefactors to ecclesiastical institutions, and their endowments funded charities, repairers to parish churches, and then sometimes monastic foundations, which links them to both piety and prestige. So you get a good name for doing the good deeds. It's like what the cartels do now. You know, you're doing bad things, perhaps, but you get on the good side of the community by building a ballpark, you know? Yeah, it's the Pablo Escobar theory. Yeah, right. And you know what? That works. So, but in this case, they do seem to be, yeah, there's a lot of, maybe a bit of skullduggery going on, pun intended. Yeah, and so with the transition to early modern period, many medieval noble families changed shape, as history tells us. Titles could become extinct, estates passed by marriage, and surnames alter. But elements of the de Beauchamp legacy survive in place names, church monuments, and surviving legal records to this day. Yeah, and some estates formerly held by the family were absorbed into other noble houses through heiresses. Others remained as local gentry seats. And then tombs and effigies and cathedrals and parish churches preserve names and their heraldry, giving historians and paranormal podcasters physical traces to study, like we're doing now. So, but even with all of that, you still could not find a Neville de Beauchamp. No, I couldn't. I'm pretty sure someone with that name either didn't exist or was so far outside the main family that obscurity prevents me from tracking him down. But I'm telling you, that name and variations of it do exist in recordsonancestry.com, which I have the international access for, so I can look at records overseas. Right. But that name isn't in there. It's not in Find a Grave, which is a very good website for finding history and people. I'll add, that goes through to the present day. So it's like, I was just searching on Ancestry in the 1500s and 1600s, but Find a Grave is like up until now, and I couldn't find a Neville de Beauchamp or Neville Beauchamp that way either. Huh. Well, I'm, again, it's not unexpected, I would think, but here's what I'll say. I think it's another case of lack of evidence does not point to evidence of lack. Does that feel both ways like that? But you know what I'm saying is that just because you couldn't find him there does not mean he didn't exist. And as you said earlier, or as we did, you may have had a name change, an alteration. Something got incorrectly recorded through the history, but again, you had to be there, I think. And then- But I think I might have figured this out or kind of gotten close to it. Okay. So the real question is, obviously, was there a real monk named Neville de Beauchamp in St. Andrews in the 16th century? And I'm talking about looking at Ancestry, Wikipedia, other sources, and right away, I'm seeing two distinct, very powerful families. Beauchamp and Neville. They're not one family, they're two. Oh, interesting. Interesting. So in this case, I think you could extrapolate this out into other more famous legends even about, did these people really exist? And what it made me think of here with our notes and your terrific research in the section is that this could apply to something like finding out if there really was a King Arthur. And I watched this series, which was, I think, really terrific on Wondery. And that was all researched and led by Professor Dorsey Armstrong, who was a professor of English and medieval literature at Purdue University. And she is like all about King Arthur. Right. I think has a zine, has a magazine even, or a newsletter that's just all about the legend. So I tend to trust her research. But what she was saying, and I remember this, is that if you go back in records, there is not much or even any mention of an actual King Arthur in any of the historical records. However, if you go back in the genealogy, during a certain time period, there are four prominent, very powerful families that had sons all named Arthur. Oh, right. And so you find one clue. It's like, okay, we didn't really find the actual dude, perhaps, or any real historical proof written down. But we find clues that may be an indicator that something really did happen. Something was real. Someone was named Arthur. And so I think maybe that's what we're looking at here, right? Well, anyway, so, okay, you tell me here. So we have here, the Beauchamps were the earls of Warwick and Worcester. And the Neville's were the earls of West Borland and held all sorts of other titles. Now, these are the heavy hitters of the medieval period, but their histories do merge. And it all comes down to one person, a woman named Elizabeth Beauchamp, right? Now, is she our connection to Neville de Beauchamp? Not exactly. So Elizabeth Beauchamp, Baroness Bergeveni, if I'm saying that right, and I'm not looking it up, born September 16th, 1415, is the only child of Richard de Beauchamp, the Earl of Worcester, not Worcester. Wait, did I put an H in there? I think you did. When you read it on paper, that's kind of what it looks like. I was thinking of the sauce. I feel like I learned it from The Perfect Storm, the movie. Oh, nice. You know, it's getting near dinner time. I was thinking. It's like Gloucester, Worcester. Yeah, yeah, there we go. Steak sauce. My apologies. Anyway, so Elizabeth is the only child of Richard de Beauchamp, Earl of Worcester, and Isabelle Le Desfensee. That means she's a major heiress. When her dad dies in 1422, she inherits his estates and the title, Lady Bergeveni. Wow. All right. Well, okay. So now she marries Sir Edward Neville, and he is a younger son of Ralph de Neville, or is it Rafe? I think it's Rafe Fiennes. I wonder if I've been mispronouncing that for my entire life. Rafe de Neville, the Earl of Westmoreland, and Joan Beaufort. And Joan Beaufort is the daughter of John of Gaunt, which means, boy, are you keeping track of this? Which means Edward Neville is a great-grandson of King Edward III. Now, I've heard of him. Yes. But what we're talking about here is a real power couple. Yeah, yeah. So this is the fusion point. You have a Neville man marrying a Beauchamp woman who holds the title and all the property. So how do the names get passed down? This is where our Neville de Beauchamp either lives, dies, or loses his head. Wow. You know, because Elizabeth held the title, her husband, Edward Neville, became the third Baron Bergeveni through her, but their children carried the Neville surname, and their son and heir was George Neville, the fourth Baron Bergeveni. Now, his parents are explicitly listed as Edward Neville and Elizabeth Beauchamp. So now the Beauchamp surname in this specific line effectively stops with Elizabeth, and the kids are Neville's. So who was the head of the family in the early 1500s, the timeframe we need for this particular Screaming Skull? Well, that would be George Neville's son, also named George. He was George Neville, the fifth Baron Bergeveni, and he lived from 1469 to 1535. This is our guy, timeline-wise. He was a major courtier under Henry VII and Henry VIII, but his name is just George Neville. And looking at his brothers, there's a Sir Thomas Neville and a Sir Edward Neville. I've looked through all the listed children from both the fourth and fifth barons, and there is no one named Neville anything, and definitely no Neville de Beauchamp. Hmm. So like you said, based strictly on whatever sources you dug up, a person with that name and that family line doesn't exist. Now, sometimes families would combine a name to honor the maternal side, but we're not really seeing any evidence of that here. Now, the name lives on in the coat of arms, which are also very important here, the heraldry, and the Neville arms are quartered with the Beauchamp arms to show that inheritance. You'll see that in people's shields. If you watch those movies, it'll be four. Well, that means a combination of marriages and a combination of family crests, but not in the surname, it looks like. So that's not the case with the name. Right. Right. So it's a big family. Maybe there's another branch of the Beauchamps, the really famous ones, the Earls of Warwick. Well, Ancestry and Wikipedia on backup show us Richard Beauchamp, the 13th Earl of Warwick. His son, Henry, died without kids, and the title and land passed to his daughter and de Beauchamp. And who did she marry? Another Neville, Richard Neville, the one who becomes known to history as the Kingmaker, which is another story. But again, a Neville marries the Beauchamp heiress, and that line continues through them. The surname of their kids is Neville. So Neville de Beauchamp, if that is your real name, we have to ask, did William Thomas Linskill, who wrote The Screaming Skull of Greyfriars, which Forrest read from, did he make up his friend Alan Beauchamp, a claimed descendant of Neville de Beauchamp? Or is Alan Beauchamp real? By the way, that's a name far too common in the 1890s to look up anything about. There's millions of them. But did Alan Beauchamp, who was talking to Linskill when he wrote that story, if he's a real person, did he make up Neville de Beauchamp? Right. Okay. So is this guy just creative fiction, is the question here. And does that mean the skull itself is creative fiction? Well, maybe. But the other thing, and we've learned this over the years, is that just because we can't find this guy with cursory research definitely does not mean that he didn't exist somehow, like you said earlier. But we're not in a position to travel across the pond just now and dig into the stacks at Oxford looking for this possibly fictional character. But as far as the internet, which is becoming increasingly less reliable, is concerned, he doesn't seem to be a real person, at least not by that name. All right, then. Well, you know, it makes me think of what you just mentioned there. When we covered Loftus Hall, which had a long storied history, there was a rumor that there was kind of, I'm blanking on it now, but there was a connection to this other family, or one of the persons connected to the story of Loftus Hall and the Hellfire Club. And it's, oh, that was kind of rumored. And then I think we found a, I think I sprung that on you, we found a painting or something where that guy's in there. And it's a famous painting of the members of the Hellfire Club. It's like, oh, there you go. So there's a little bit of a proof of connection, where before, most sources just said it was speculative. So sometimes you come across that where it's not really in the records, but you find other evidence of it. So, all right. Anyway, so to me, when you think about an author getting creative, though, okay, with the prominence of those two names, it's a perfect fake dude, really. I mean, Neville de Beauchamp, and I think I'm subconsciously willed to say it like Kenan Thompson might say it. I don't, like, Neville de Beauchamp. Neville de Beauchamp. I apologize for that. I know. It's kind of like a Carlisle Rothschild de Rockefeller von Carnegie III. Wow, very good, sir. It's a mashup. Yeah. Thank you, thank you. That's true. But I mean, you know what? Someone later on telling a story might have thought that the history of both the Neville and the Beauchamp families would make a perfect mysterious character. Exactly. It's something I would do. I mean, it's with a great sounding name, just even if it's fictional or real. Well, anyway. Yeah. So, that's a fascinating detail for us. We can say for the episode, while the man at the center of the St. Andrew's Screaming Skull story seems to be legendary, his name is a perfect portmanteau that tells a true story. I love that aspect of it, too. The blending of reality and fiction and fable. It's the story of a marriage that merged two great medieval houses, and the name itself is connected to a real historical event. Yeah. It adds that perfect layer of authentic, but slightly off historical detail that makes legends like this so compelling. The name is possibly wrong, but it's wrong in a way that's almost right. It's pretty great. I agree in this aspect that unlike, you know, crummy 1990s internet creepypasta stuff, which I sometimes rue the evolution of into something, you know, pop culture. But in this case, you not only have the historical aspect of it, which I think is great, but it is also what we do here. It's in the name, it's a astonishing legend, and the legend and fables, and therefore human experience and history and truth and reality and perception is all combined to what we have now and what we experience and why we enjoy these things. So, all right, it doesn't mean for sure, though, I want to stress this, that this character did not exist, okay? Or that the story of the skull isn't true, because as you're about to find out, when it comes to the screaming skulls, all is not always what it seems. Hello, hello. I'm Malcolm Gladwell, host of Smart Talks with IBM. I recently spoke with IBM's new director of research, Jake Embatta. We discussed his vision for the future of quantum computing. At IBM Research, what we always do is answer what is the future of computing, whether it's coming up with new algorithms, coming up with better AI, coming up with quantum, or coming up with just how do different accelerators go together. It's our DNA to answer the question of what is the future. Isn't it a perfect problem for IBM because you kind of need to have a legacy of building stuff? Yes. Building actual physical machines. Yeah, it's why I came to IBM. I wanted the experience, the culture of building hard things that others have not done before. Where do you imagine we are in the timeline of this technology? There will come a point when it will mature, right? Yeah. My cell phone is a mature technology at this point. How far are we from that point with quantum? By 2029, we'll build the first fault-tolerant quantum computer. That is one that can run a very, very large, large problem. To learn how IBM is building the future of computing, visit ibm.com slash quantum. All right, quick quiz for the hiring managers out there. What's worse, being understaffed or being poorly staffed? Well, that's a trick question because both are recipes for chaos. Either way, just say to yourself, this is a job for Indeed's sponsored jobs. You'll get matched with candidates that meet the skills, certifications, and everything else you're looking for. Or go a different way and get no traction. Seriously, sponsored jobs posted directly on Indeed are 95% more likely to report a hire than non-sponsored jobs. It really is a no-brainer. Spend less time searching and more time actually interviewing candidates who check all your boxes. Less stress, less time, more results. When you need the right person to cut through the chaos, this is a job for Indeed's sponsored jobs. And listeners of this show will get a $75 sponsored job credit to help your job get the premium status it deserves at Indeed.com slash podcast. Just go to Indeed.com slash podcast right now. Indeed.com slash podcast. Terms and conditions apply. Need to hire? This is a job for Indeed's sponsored jobs. On eBay, every find has a story. Like if you're looking for a vintage band tee. Not just a tee. The band tee. From the last show your favorite band ever played. You wore it everywhere. Then, your BFF started glaring it. Which was cute until they unfriended you and took it with them. Which was not so cute. Anyway, now you're on eBay. And there it is. Same tee from the same tour. Still living in your memory, rent-free forever. See? The things you love have a way of finding their way back to you. But eBay isn't just for getting whatever your ex-BFF stole back. It's also for that rare championship foul ball you caught. Then, heroically, gave to the kid next to you. And where else are you going to find your first car? The one you wish you never sold. But now, you finally get the chance to take back home. For good this time. Shop eBay for millions of finds. Each with a story. eBay. Things people love. Hey, this is Lori from the Olympic Peninsula in Washington State. When I'm not chilling with a chai latte, chatting it up with Bigfoot, I'm listening to astonishing legend. Now, back to the show. The Penny family, that's P-I-N-N-E-Y, who had been away for some time, returned to their ancestral home of Betisco Manor in Dorset in the 1830s, only to find that the family's dark past might be lurking there. Betisco Manor is known as the House of the Screaming Skull. And the legend that gave it that name starts with an ancestor, Azariah Penny, who was banished to the West Indies after the Monmouth Rebellion of 1685. And yet another fantastic name. Well, okay, so that rebellion, that was an unsuccessful attempt by an illegitimate son of Charles II to overthrow King James II and seize the English throne. And so landing in Dorset with a largely militia force, Monmouth hoped to rally Protestant opposition, but was defeated by royal troops. And after that, the crown suppressed the uprising with executions and the brutal, bloody assizes, which were a series of sham trials, consolidating James II's short-lived authority. And about 150 or so of the 1,000 rebels caught were hanged, or drawn and quartered. Oh, that was awful. Yeah. Maybe don't Google that. Anyway, you should know what that is, by the way. But anyway, somewhere around 800 were exiled to the British West Indies, as was Azariah Penny, but not as a slave like them. So there, he became a wealthy plantation owner on the island of Nevis, just south of St. Kitts. And many years later, a descendant, John Frederick Penny, returned to the family home at Bedescombe, and he brought with him an unnamed black slave. The story, as it's been passed down, is a tragedy. The slave, whose name has been lost to time, was miserable in England. The cold, the wet, the sheer foreignness of it, all wore him down. He grew gravely ill, some said, with tuberculosis, as he lay dying far from the sun and soil he knew. He begged his master for one final thing, one solemn promise, that his body would be returned to his homeland of Nevis for burial. It was a sacred final wish, but John Frederick Penny refused. He cited the expense and the difficulty of such a journey, and instead had the man buried locally, in the graveyard of St. Stephen's Church in Bedescombe. Almost as soon as the first shovel of dirt filled in the grave, the haunting began. Blood-curdling screams and groans were heard coming directly from the churchyard. The manor house itself, once a quiet country home, was plunged into chaos. Windows rattled violently in their frames, doors slammed shut of their own accord, and bizarre, inexplicable noises echoed through the halls. The family and the villagers knew the source. The transgression was obvious. Unable to bear the phenomena any longer, the pennies were forced to act. They went to the churchyard, they opened the grave, and they exhumed the body of the man they had wronged. They brought his remains back to the manor, and as soon as the bones crossed the threshold, the house fell silent. The screaming stopped. Over time, the skeleton disintegrated, leaving only the skull. And a new rule became ingrained in the house. A piece of folklore as solid as the stone walls. The skull must never leave Bedescoe Manor. An 1872 account published in the journal, Notes and Queries, by a cricketer, lawyer, judge, and folklorist named John Simons Udall, made the threat explicit. It stated that if the skull were ever removed, the house itself would rock to its foundations, while the person by whom such an act of desecration was committed would certainly die within the year. End quote. And people tested it. One owner, disgusted by the grisly relic, reportedly threw it into a nearby pond. That night, he was tormented by unearthly screams and groans until he had no choice but to retrieve it. Another tale claims someone tried to bury it in a deep hole, only to find the skull sitting on top of the freshly dug earth the next morning, as if waiting to be taken back inside. This happened so often, the legend says, that eventually, only the skull remained of the body. That's an incredible story. So again, we're talking about mid-1800s. I know 1872, I think, was the report of that, but what time frame are we talking about here? Well, when the family came back, yeah, they came back in the 1830s. So about that time period. But as we're about to find out, the history of the Penny family is not great. Okay. Noted. Well, again, a pretty incredible story, and I think well-written and well-read, sir. But it has all the classic elements of a Screaming Skull legend. So you get the dying wish, the transgression, or the not honoring the wishes, the final wishes. You get the haunting, and then you have the rule that it can't be removed. And then the other thing about this story is the legacy of this family is one of being one of the largest cogs in the slave trade of the West Indies. But if you'll remember just quickly here, there's something about the wizard clip, too, about not honoring the dying person's wish. That's right. And that causes a lot of turmoil and phenomena to happen. Yeah, the man who came to the lodge. That's right. Now, that could be entirely stable as well as we looked into it. But the wizard clip story is that, yeah, some affront happened. And therefore, you will suffer the consequences until you make it right. And how many ghost stories do we hear of the departed coming back? Because they want to make something right. They want to solve their own murder, or they have some information, or basically they want to set things straight again. And so there will be no rest until that happens. Yeah, and by the way, folks, if you want to learn more about the wizard clip, look for the book by our friend Michael Kishbuker on the wizard clip. He was on our show talking about it. You can find it on Amazon and some other websites. It's a pretty cool story. So Azariah, after being exiled to Nevis because of the Monmouth Rebellion, is thought to have been responsible for trafficking after he got there up to 150,000 slaves. So there's the definite possibility of a folkloric message between the lines with this particular screaming skull. Right. But like I alluded to in the cold open, this story and the skull at the center of it cannot possibly be connected. You know, the legend is so specific, but the modern science tells us a completely different story. Exactly. In 1963, a much more recent time period, a descendant of the Penny family decided to get a real answer and sent the screaming skull to be examined by Professor Gilbert Causey of the Royal College of Surgeons. And that begs an obvious question. I know, right? Did Kreb get haywire while the skull was being examined? All right. Well, possibly, I don't know. So looking here, okay, the Royal College of Surgeons is in London, around 135 miles or 217 kilometers from Mettiscombe Manor. So unless Professor Causey made a site visit like J. Allen Hynek to the Betts family, this thing got moved to London for that examination. Yeah. I think we got IP here for a great short film, Five Days in Mettiscombe. Yeah. Well, yeah. And just looking here again, it clearly says this relative sent the skull. So would it have been sent by post? Dun, dun, dun. What if it had gotten lost? Really? You're just mailing this thing? Like, how did it get? Maybe, I mean, because in your mind, you're like, oh, hey, they got into an old carriage. There's room for one more with black horses and rode to London. It's like, no, it's the 1960s. That's not what's happening. They probably put it in the post. And it's in a dead letter office or made it somewhere. Or it ended up like a lot of other notorious bones. I'm saying giant bones that were supposedly sent to the Smithsonian that somehow got lost and got burned up on a barge. Buried in the archives. If you believe that story. But that giant story won't die. That's coming back now. I see that in my feeds. Now there's more chit-chat about that. So I'm glad we covered that. Anyway. Well, it would have made it home, of course, speaking of the skull and the route it takes. But, you know, the results of the examination are at odds with the legend itself. So here's what Professor Cosi determined. That the skull was not that of a black man at all. It belonged to a European female age between 25 and 30. Not only that, it wasn't from the 17th or 18th century. It was prehistoric, possibly 3,000 to 4,000 years old. The current thinking is that it likely came from an Iron Age Celtic settlement at a place called Pilsden Pen, which is very close to the manor house. And there you have it. And it's almost like that's even maybe a better answer than, like, oh, no, this came from the skeleton factory in India, you know, where there were most medical, a lot of medical skeletons were coming from, as we found out from prior research. But, like, I mean, it still could be haunted. I mean, that's, I mean, what a great, if it's going to be old, that's a great age to be that old. You know what I'm saying? Like, that's something. Yeah. An archaeological treasure there. So, you know, someone found it on a walk or dig or something and brought it home, maybe. I don't know. It's also a great way to bring ill fortune to your house, if that's what you're looking for. So, if you want to, better than being with the Brady Bunch family and stealing something, taking something home from Hawaii. Or, yeah, that or, of course, where do we hear actual, well, again, anecdotal but firm confirmation than from the Bell Witch story. And we heard from a ranger there who said, oh, yeah, people send back stuff all the time. I took a little pebble from the Bell Witch property there. And they started having misfortune. And they mailed it back to us. There you go. Well, it looks like the entire origin story, the slave from Nevis, the broken promise, is all theoretically apocryphal. Which, by the way, is what I wanted to call it. Okay. Apocryphal. Theoretically apocryphal. No one would have ever listened. By the way. They'd have been like, what is that? Breaking the easy to spell rule, okay? Yeah. Yeah, exactly. Anyway, as a reminder, though, Azariah Penny was a very real ancestor of the Penny family. But none of the historical details match the physical object. So that raises an even bigger question for me. If the story is false, why does the tradition persist? Why do the phenomena supposedly happen when it's moved? Perhaps it's not a good idea to bring anyone's skull home without their permission. Yeah, I know, but they look so cool in your study, you know, the gothic decorations, and it's got the candle, you know, burning on top of it. And I actually made a ceramic skull in a ceramics class in high school because I thought, there's just something about, of course, it's a symbol of our humanity and death and all these. It's very symbolic. So I get why there is veteration of that since going back to Gobekli Tepe days. But as far as not a good idea, I mean, yeah, you might think that. Or in classic legend style, you moved me from the house where I was supposed to be, so now you have to keep me in your house. That is sounding like a setup to a Midnight Library episode. Yeah, it is. I'm sure she has done stuff involving skulls, no doubt. But anyway, I like this place better than the mound you raised to plant more wheat and barley. It is what the skull might say. This is a nice house. This is great. I was in a pile of dirt. Are you kidding? Well, that's what I'm saying. This is where I'm going to be now. Yeah, you could have been in a cold, cold, why for you'll bury me in the cold, cold ground mound. Yes, buried in the cold. But now you're a decorative item in a nice house. Yeah, there you go. So I understand that reasoning. So the Penny family, even after learning the skull belonged to an Iron Age woman, still kept it in the house just to be safe. And it's not enough to just say it's in the house. Our sources give us a couple of different spots over the years. One of the earlier accounts says that after many failed attempts to bury it, the skull eventually found its resting place in the nook of a staircase. But for a long time, it was kept in the attic in a niche near a chimney, which has its own folklore around it, right? A chimney is a way for fire and smoke to be controlled, but also a passageway into the afterlife, if you go back to early humanity. So that placement suggests that the skull was being used as an apotropaic object, a protective charm to guard the house against supernatural intrusions. Quickly, two things. First, what? Secondly, you're going to explain that term more fully to me. It's an apotropaic object. Second. No, I was going to say, I really like that idea. I hadn't actually thought about that. But I like the idea of the chimney and basically the control of a natural element of fire and smoke, which are also very, well, since the beginning of humans and their discovery of fire. Just, again, the control of that, it's so primal. But also, talk about cremation and burial pyres, funeral pyres, and the smoke returning the person's essence to the heavens, in a way, and just the control of that and the skull. Quickly, though, another thing that popped into my head is the taking of the skull in our Hawaiian Legends episode, if you remember. Yes. And I think that was, I believe that one, of the kid finding the skull in that cave, bringing it home. And I think the grandfather or uncle was like, you've got to put that back right away. Or the night marchers are coming to retrieve it. And I think they did. And what you do is you prostrate yourself on the ground in reverence as they march by, and they will not take you with them. But I think some scary stuff happened. He took the skull immediately back to the place he found it. So don't mess with that stuff. Yes, look for that episode, folks, if you haven't heard it. Okay. So here, explain yourself, sir. Apotropaic object. Apotropaic. Apotropaic. Apotropaic. Okay. I'm glad you asked. I didn't know until yesterday myself, even though I knew what the idea behind it is, and you do too. The word apotropaic originates from the Greek word apotropaos, meaning warding off or turning away. In ancient Greece, quoting from Wikipedia here, in ancient Greece, objects or symbols considered apotropaic were believed to ward off evil harm or negative influences, like the evil eye pendant our friend Alison Jorlin wears. And she wore her on Shark Tank, if I'm not mistaken. Uh-huh. That's correct. Yes. You're talking about the Fertile Valley era of the first civilizations and talismans. Exactly. Yeah. That's apotropaic. Right. Now that I've learned how to say it, I'd just like to say it. Apotropaic. It's as ancient as people and people picking up little charms that they thought had some power for good or protection. And Chaldean magic, ancient, ancient stuff. Anyway, so there you have it. So it's possible the skull was found, brought into the house as a, whatever you said a minute ago, uh, or curiosity. And then the haunting story was invented later to explain its presence and why it couldn't be moved. Much like, uh, I'm going, visiting one of my mom's friend's house and I was, they had one of those doors to the, the basement, which we didn't really have at that time when I was, uh, a wee child. And I was, I was very much drawn to the spooky basement. I just remember her saying like, oh, don't go down there. There are ghosts down there. And that's, I think the first time that feeling hit me of terror, fear, but also intense curiosity and the blending of the two, which is why we're here now. Just like, oh, I have to see. Well, but I am afraid of ghosts. So we're just, we're just going to leave it there. That's one of those moments that comes up in our dead letter office episodes a lot with people. They're just like, should I run? No, I want to see what it is. And in the end, I remember as a kid, even it's like, okay, well, I could sneak down there as mom and her talking, having coffee, but I could just leave it alone out of respect, which is what I chose. You know what I'm saying? So that's an option here. Well, you know, the legend here in this story, anyway, becomes a justification for the tradition. And the story of the slave is so powerful and memorable, it sticks, even when it is proven false. That's right. The belief in its power becomes the most important thing, overriding the historical or scientific facts. This screaming skull of Betiscombe isn't just a bone, it's a living piece of folklore, a story so powerful that it keeps a 4,000-year-old woman in a house she never knew, forever tied to a legend that isn't her own. But in reality, the Penny family's ancestors are responsible for possibly sending well over 150,000 slaves to their final destination. So maybe somehow it's part of a curse or an atonement of some kind. Who knows? Perhaps only the skull does. Well, you know, despite the legend of the slave being scientifically debunked, the family still thinks it's best to keep the skull inside the house. And that's also my take on everything else, like even stuff that I trust in science, but I will also go by anecdote, folklore, and best not to mess with things. Yeah, let's do all the things. Yeah, well, again, you could say like, well, that's pseudoscience. And the Hawaiian tea plants and the night marchers, it's like, yeah, I'm just not going to push it, okay? So I'll go by that, I'll toe the line on that, but at the same time, I'm not going to want to poke the spirit bear or kick the ghostly hornet's nest here. Because here's the deal, true or not, no one has been willing to risk removing it permanently. So again, that goes to that idea. So whatever it is right now inside Benescombe Manor, it's still there as far as we know. Yeah, it is. Hello, hello. I'm Malcolm Gladwell, host of Smart Talks with IBM. I recently spoke with IBM's new director of research, Jake Embatta. We discussed his vision for the future of quantum computing. At IBM Research, what we always do is answer what is the future of computing, whether it's coming up with new algorithms, coming up with better AI, coming up with quantum, or coming up with just how do different accelerators go together. It's our DNA to answer the question of what is the future. Isn't it a perfect problem for IBM because you kind of need to have a legacy of building stuff, building actual physical machines? Yeah, it's why I came to IBM. I wanted the experience, the culture of building hard things that others have not done before. Where do you imagine we are in the timeline of this technology? There will come a point when it will mature, right? Yeah. My cell phone is a mature technology at this point. How far are we from that point with quantum? By 2029, we'll build the first fault-tolerant quantum computer. That is one that can run a very, very large, large problem. To learn how IBM is building the future of computing, visit ibm.com slash quantum. All right, quick quiz for the hiring managers out there. What's worse, being understaffed or being poorly staffed? Well, that's a trick question because both are recipes for chaos. Either way, just say to yourself, this is a job for Indeed's sponsored jobs. You'll get matched with candidates that meet the skills, certifications, and everything else you're looking for. Or go a different way and get no traction. Seriously, sponsored jobs posted directly on Indeed are 95% more likely to report a hire than non-sponsored jobs. It really is a no-brainer. Spend less time searching and more time actually interviewing candidates who check all your boxes. Less stress, less time, more results. When you need the right person to cut through the chaos, this is a job for Indeed's sponsored jobs. And listeners of this show will get a $75 sponsored job credit to help your job get the premium status it deserves at Indeed.com slash podcast. Just go to Indeed.com slash podcast right now. Indeed.com slash podcast. Terms and conditions apply. Need to hire? This is a job for Indeed's sponsored jobs. On eBay, every find has a story. Like if you're looking for a vintage band tee. Not just a tee. The band tee. From the last show your favorite band ever played. You wore it everywhere. Then, your BFF started glaring it. Which was cute. Until they unfriended you and took it with them. Which was not so cute. Anyway, now you're on eBay. And there it is. Same tee. From the same tour. Still living in your memory. Rent free. Forever. See? The things you love have a way of finding their way back to you. But eBay isn't just for getting whatever your ex-BFF stole back. It's also for that rare championship foul ball you caught. Then heroically gave to the kid next to you. And where else are you going to find your first car? The one you wish you never sold. But now, you finally get the chance to take back home. For good this time. Shop eBay for millions of finds. Eat with a story. eBay. Things people love. I'm Lucas from North Carolina. And you're listening to Astonishing Legends with Scott Philbrook and Forrest Burgess. And now, back to the show. Well, I feel like we should share in depth at least one more of the nine Screaming Skull stories we found in detail. And that is going to be the story of Dickie. Of all the screaming skulls of England, perhaps none became as famous or as much of a local character as the one that recited at Tunstead Farm in Derbyshire. For centuries, Dickie sat on a windowsill, a silent guardian for the family within, and a source of terror for anyone who dared to disturb it. The origin of the skull is lost to time, shrouded in conflicting legends. The most common story takes us back to the 16th century, to a man named Ned Dickinson. He'd gone off to France to fight in the Huguenot Wars, a bloody series of conflicts that raged from 1562 to 1598. When he finally returned home to reclaim his farm, he found it occupied by his cousins. Unwilling to give it up, they murdered him, chopping off his head and burying his body in the garden. But Ned, it seems, had other ideas. His severed head returned to the farmhouse, refusing to leave, insisting on its place in the home it still considered its own. Another, perhaps older, version of the tale claims the skull belonged to not a man, but to a woman. She was murdered in the very room where the skull was kept, and with her dying breath, she declared that her bones must remain in the house forever. Over time, the rest of her remains were lost, but the skull and her spirit, seen by some as a guardian, stayed on. Whichever story you believe, the rule was absolute. Dickie must not be removed. The skull was seen as the luck of the house, a guardian spirit. It was said to make knocking noises to warn of strangers, or herald a death in the family. It would wake the farmer if an animal fell ill, and it once reportedly drove off a thief by making the entire house vibrate. But if you crossed it, if you tried to remove it, chaos would descend upon the house. People tried, of course. It was reportedly thrown into a reservoir, buried in the churchyard, even stolen and taken to the nearby town of Disley. But each time, terrible disturbances would plague the perpetrator until Dickie was brought back to its windowsill. Dickie's fame peaked in the 19th century. In 1863, when the London and Northwestern Railway Company planned a new line that would run right through Tunstead Farm. To build it, they needed a bridge. But they made a critical error. They didn't ask Dickie for permission. The work was plagued by disaster. Foundations collapsed. The ground, supposedly solid, reportedly sank into the marsh. The workmen grew ill. Costs spiraled. Finally, admitting defeat against whatever force was working against them, the company rerouted the line higher up, away from the farm. The new bridge was nicknamed Dickie's Bridge, a permanent monument to the Skull's power. The incident became so famous that in 1870, the Lancashire poet Samuel Laycock wrote a poem in local dialect, scolding the Skull for its meddling. Now, Dickie, be quiet with thee, lad, and let navvies and railways a-bee. Mon that shouldn't do so, it's too bad. What harm are they doing to thee? Dead folk shouldn't meddle at all, but leave all these matters to thwick. Dickie, they'll see they've done greatly, I know. Do us hear what I say to thee, Dick. For decades more, Dickie sat on the windowsill, a local celebrity featured on postcards sold to curious visitors. That is such a great classic tale. And Samuel Laycock, who wrote that poem, actually wrote some pretty famous poems from the time period. He was well-known. So it was sort of an honor to have him cast his gaze on this legend, which is cool, and is probably part of the reason that we're still talking about it, honestly. Yeah. He's one of those guys that was a megaphone for the story, because people knew his work. For me, unlike some of the others, Dickie feels less like a vengeful spirit and more like a grumpy, but ultimately protective member of the family, as long as you did what he said. Oh, completely. That's what I love about the story. It's like the haunting of the certain hotels or whatever that— We've heard this a lot, of course, and this is why— I think this is why it falls in line with these types of ghost stories. It's like somebody turns on the TV too loud, and the kindly old gentleman who haunts the hotel will turn it down or turn it to another station. He's not really meddling of a sort. He's kind of still caretaking, in a way, custodially. And if he doesn't like something, he'll put it back or express his displeasure at whatever's being done. But, you know, in a playful way of sorts. But here, I like—yeah, that's why I like this story, too. It's scary, sure, if this happened while you were around, but also not horrific. Anyway. Yeah. Another thing I like about the poem is that I wish we had a local person read it in the dialect it was meant to. Somebody will probably volunteer. Email it to us. We'll run it. But also, if it was read by somebody in local dialect, perhaps it would not be understood. Anyway, well, he was the guardian of the household, this skull, Dickie. But what's fascinating is how the story changed over time and how modern investigation has peeled back some of those layers. Because the earliest account we found from John Hutchinson in 1807 notes that even then, the farm's owner claimed the skull had been there for 200 years. So now that takes us back to the 1600s. But not quite the Huguenot Wars. And even Hutchinson noted that most stories claimed it was a woman, despite the masculine name. Right. And that leads us to the scientific analysis, or at least what's claimed to be a scientific analysis. In the 1940s, someone claimed a surgeon had examined the skull and determined it belonged to a young woman and was likely from the Iron Age, found in one of the ancient barrows near the farm. It's the exact same conclusion Professor Cosi came to with the Betiscombe skull. So there you go. It is. And it makes you wonder. The story of it being a prehistoric skull found nearby is certainly, I guess, more plausible than Ned Dickinson's head rolling back into the house on its own. But then after years of doing this show, maybe not for me. But I don't doubt anything anymore. I don't know what's real. Anyway, the Peak District is apparently littered with ancient burial sites. It's entirely possible someone found it, then brought it into the house, and a powerful story grew up around to explain why it was there and why it shouldn't be moved. And I like that angle, too. Well, yeah, it seems possible that might have happened more than a few times. But where is Dickie now? Okay. Well, sometime around 1977, a new owner of the farm apparently got tired of the notoriety and the ghoulish souvenir. And without making a fuss, they had the skull secretly buried, most likely in the nearby Taxol Church Cemetery. And nothing happened? No screaming? No poltergeist activity? No bad luck? No, apparently not. But, you know, the new owner moved away soon after. But as far as anyone knows, the burial was successful. Also like Loftus Hall and the priest there. Well, anyway, Dickie was finally laid to rest. And in doing so, the owner effectively put an end to one of the Peak District's greatest legends. The story lives on, but the skull itself is now properly buried. Or at least that's what the world is being led to believe, Scott. All right, folks. Well, we've done some deep dives here on Neville de Beauchamp, Bedescombe, and the famous Dickey of Tunstead Farm. There are so many others, each with its own grim story and its own set of rules. Exactly. And these aren't just isolated incidents. It's a recurring folkloric motif, and the other similarities are just as fascinating as the differences. So, now we wanted to touch on six other screaming skulls before we stop for tonight. Now, we start at Calgarth Hall in Windermere with a story about a greedy 16th century justice of the peace named Miles Philipson, who coveted a small plot of land owned by a humble local couple, Craster and Dorothy Cook. They refused to sell, so Philipson hatched a cruel plan. He invited them to a Christmas banquet at the hall, pretending to make peace. But during the feast, he had a silver cup planted on them. The next day, he had them arrested, tried them in his own court, and sentenced them to hang for a theft they did not commit. Oh, see what happens when you have a nice piece of property. Just say you're busy. Yeah, just. You can't make it. You're staying into that. But before she died, Dorothy uttered a terrible curse, proclaiming that she and her husband would haunt Calgarth Hall day and night, and that the Philipsons would never prosper again. Shortly after their execution, two skulls mysteriously appeared in the hall. Every attempt to get rid of them, burying them, burning them, throwing them in a lake, failed. The skulls always returned, often accompanied by terrifying screams. The curse held true. The Philipson family lost their fortune, and the skulls were eventually bricked up inside a wall where they remain to this day. Ah, possible aportation. Okay, well, next we go to Burton Agnes Hall in Yorkshire, built at the very beginning of the 17th century by Sir Henry Griffith. The skull here is said to belong to his youngest daughter, Anne Griffith. The story goes that just before the beautiful new hall was completed, Anne was attacked by robbers while walking in the park and was mortally wounded. On her deathbed, she made her sister's promise to keep her head within the walls of the home she loved so much so she could see it finished. Unsurprisingly, they didn't honor this gruesome request and buried her hole in the local churchyard, as you do. Almost immediately, the newly finished hall was plagued by strange moans, crashes, and slamming doors. Ah, well, recalling their broken promise, the sisters had Anne's grave opened. Inside, they supposedly found her head now separated from her body, a clean skull. They brought it back to the hall, and the haunting stopped. Later, when a servant tried to throw the skull into a passing wagon, the horses reared in terror, pictures fell from the walls, and the entire hall shook until it was returned. For its own safety, Anne's skull, known locally as Old Dance, was eventually bricked up inside one of the walls, where it is believed to be to this day. The more elaborate story that circulated for a long time says that that skull belongs to Roger Downes, described as a shamed member of the family who owned Wardley Hall in the 17th century. He was a notorious rake and a libertine, the kind of guy who was always getting into trouble. Well, one night in 1676, while walking on London Bridge with some friends, Downes drunkenly boasted that he would attack the very next person he met. Well, he sounds like a party. Yeah. Well, he made good on his word and killed an innocent tailor. But his luck ran out immediately. The next person he tried this on was a Thames Waterman, or a watchman, who wasn't having any of it. The watchman fought back, and with a single swipe of his rapier, beheaded Roger Downes right there on the London Bridge. Well, the legend continues that while his body was unceremoniously dumped into the River Thames, his severed head was sent back in a wooden box to his sister at Wardley Hall, which is where it ties into the classic screaming skull motif. The head was buried, but Roger's ghost apparently started haunting the hall, upset that his skull had been put away. So, to appease the spirit, the family placed the skull in a niche on the main staircase, and the disturbances stopped. But any attempt to remove it after that would supposedly cause it to scream or mysteriously reappear. Reminds me a little of the terrific UK version of the series with Sir Humphrey. If you know, you know. Oh, yes. Okay. Yes. All right. Yes. Well, this is a fantastic gothic story, but it's completely apocryphal. Apocryphal. The Roger Downes story was definitely disproven in 1779 when his coffin, it's 200 years before the first Star Wars movie came out, when his coffin was opened and his head was found to be firmly attached to the rest of his body. The skull at Wardley Hall, which was a real skull that people saw, could not possibly be his. That's what makes the contrast so great. You have this wild, unsubstantiated legend of a drunken rake getting his comeuppance, and then you have the verifiable, and frankly just as grim, true story of the martyr, Ambrose Barlow, whose skull it actually is. Yes, a Catholic priest who was executed in 1641 during the religious persecution of the English Civil War. This is a pretty juicy story as well with lots of history and detail. Barlow was hanged, drawn, and quartered, and his head was displayed on a pike, either in Manchester or at Lancaster Castle. A Catholic sympathizer, possibly his cousin, Francis Downes, rescued the head and secreted it away inside Wardley Hall, where Barlow had often held secret masses. The skull was rediscovered in the 18th century, and that's when this screaming skull legend began. The most famous story claims a servant, thinking it was just an animal skull, threw it into the hall's moat. Imagine what else is in there. And then a terrible storm immediately broke out, which only ceased when the owner drained the moat and returned the skull to its place of honor. See? And you've got to return what was taken. The Onion headline would be, you know, Charlie Drain's moat tries to figure out which one of 700 skulls is the one he threw in. That's pretty good. I like that. I'll applaud that. All right. Well, some say this skull is indestructible, always reappearing whole after being burned or smashed. Others suggest the screaming skull story was a 1930s hoax to fool a journalist. We didn't follow that thread. You've heard that from us before. Could be. Could be. Regardless, the skull of St. Ambrose Barlow remains at Wardley Hall, now the home of the Catholic Bishop of Salford, where it's preserved behind glass in a niche on the main staircase. All righty then. Well, this next story is about the skull of Theophilus Brougham, higher Chilton Farm, around 1670. So in Chilton Cantalow, Somerset, we find the skull of Theophilus Brougham, who died in 1670. Brougham was a royalist during the English Civil War, who later defected to the Roundheads after being appalled by the king's troops. After the monarchy was restored, he lived in constant fear that his enemies would one day desecrate his grave and display his head as a traitor's, which was the fashion of the time. Yeah. So to prevent this, he made his sister promise that after his death, his head would be separated from his body and his skull would be kept inside the farmhouse forever. She honored his wish and his skull has remained there ever since. Now, according to a history published in 1791, later tenants who tried to give the skull a proper burial were met with frightful screams and violent poltergeist activity. In fact, this is from the Wikipedia page for the Anglican Church of St. James in Chilton Cantalow. Quote, Daniel Codd observed the skull in February 2010 and said, Upon being shown Theophilus' skull, I was curious to see his lower jaw was missing and that he appears at some stage to have been varnished. Codd goes on to say, The reason for Theophilus Brougham's desire that his head be hidden was very natural, given the era in which he died and his tomb in the church is concealed beneath the church wall nearest the farm, meaning that his head and body were buried apart, but as near to each other as was possible under the circumstances. Several attempts to enter the skull have resulted in terrible and unexplained noises being heard throughout the farmhouse. Hmm. And there's a fascinating piece of physical evidence for this one. During restoration work at St. James' Church, Brougham's tomb was opened and was found to be missing its skull. There you go. Well, today, the skull of Theophilus Brougham is said to sit quietly in a cabinet at Higher Chilton Farm, a permanent and very personal guardian of the house. So again, a nice little talisman there. Well, the next location is unique because it supposedly has two screaming skulls hidden within its ruins. The story attached to the ruins of Warbleton Priori is that one skull belonged to a prior who was murdered and the other belongs to his murderer. Just like the other legends, any attempt to remove them from the Priori grounds resulted in the usual mayhem. Yeah, and there's a really lovely story attached to this one, though. Apparently, at some point before they were bricked up, the two skulls were placed in the branches of an apple tree. A bird took a liking to one of them, built its nest inside, and used the eye sockets as an entrance to its own unique little nest box. Boy, that is something Midnight Library would certainly do. Yeah. Throughout a whole orchard. It's a perfect birdhouse. I know. Yeah. I'm sure somebody on Etsy is building some and selling them. It's got to... We have to assume the skull approved because the story notes it remained completely silent the whole time. There was no screaming. So, honestly, this could work for me. I'm not afraid of this as a final resting place for... Oh, okay. Yeah. So, you're saying that you're turning your brain house into a birdhouse. Yeah, there we go. There we go. Some say it's already happened. Yeah. All right then. Okay. Well, finally, we're going to talk about the skull of William Corder, Suffolk, 1828. And I guess this is a much more recent and macabre addition to the Screaming Skull canon, tied to one of the most sensational crimes of the 19th century, the Red Barn murder. Had you heard about that one before? No, that was new to me. I think I know the title here, but okay. So, listen up here. See what this rings about. In 1828, William Corder was hanged for the murder of his mistress, Maria Martin. Yes, and as was the custom, his body was publicly dissected. It's another one of those fun customs, in air quotes. A local doctor named John Kilner, who had a grisly hobby of collecting skulls, managed to steal Corder's head, polish the skull, you know, that thing that you do, and mount it in an ebony box. All right. Almost immediately, his household was plagued by terrifying poltergeist disturbances. Kilner gave the skull away, but the haunting and misfortunes, go figure, simply followed to its new owner. You know, I think you could put the skull in one of those bowling ball polishing machines at the bowling alley. You've seen those? I loved those as a kid. I'm being flip here, of course, but hey, it was just fun to watch. Yeah. Yes. When I bowled on a team as a kid. Well, anyway, this phenomenon only stopped, of course, when the skull was finally given a Christian burial. This case is different from the others. The skull didn't want to stay in a house. It just wanted to be properly buried. Also understandable. But it proves that even into the 19th century here, you know, the belief that a skull could actively and violently protest its improper treatment was still very much alive, still very much a thing. Well, I think it's time to, I mean, there's more Screaming Skull stories. You can do more research on them. There's a lot of them out there. They're very, very cool. I want to thank Tess for bringing this one to our attention and whoever brought it to her attention. I do have some thoughts on this, some conclusions to make. I mean, we've gone through some of the most famous Screaming Skull legends, Betiscombe, Dickey, Wardley Hall, and the rest. We've got stories of murdered ancestors, betrayed slaves, Catholic martyrs. But now we have to get to the bottom of it, as we always do. And I think we have to start with the most down-to-earth or mundane theory, like we like to do, which is that a lot of these skulls may simply be misidentified archaeological finds. Maybe. But that definitely tracks with the big ones, right? Betiscombe Skull gets sent off to the Royal College of Surgeons, and Professor Cosi determines it's not a black man from the 17th century, but a prehistoric European female, probably from an Iron Age settlement nearby. A surgeon examined the Tunstead skull, Dickey, and came to the exact same conclusion, a young woman from the Iron Age, likely from one of the ancient barrows in the Peak District. It's a plausible, rational explanation. The countryside, especially in places like Dorset and Derbyshire, is just littered with ancient burial sites. Someone finds a skull while plowing a field, brings it home as a curiosity, and over generations, a more dramatic story gets invented to explain its presence. It happens. So the legend is a kind of reverse-engineered explanation for an object that's already in the house, which also explains why so many of the origin stories don't hold up to scrutiny. The story of Anne Griffith at Burton Agnes Hall, well, there's doubt she even existed. The Roger Downs story for the Wardley Hall skull was completely disproven when his coffin was opened, and he still had his head. The real story is that that's the relic of St. Ambrose Barlow. It's much more historically sound, which leads to the next level of theory, which is pure folklore, a literary invention from later writers who were embellishing earlier, simpler traditions. In folklore, these objects were actually known as guardian skulls. They were the embodiment of the luck of the house. As long as he kept the skull safe, the family and the property would prosper, which fits well with how they were often displayed. The Betiscombe skull was kept in the attic near a chimney, Wardley Hall, in a niche on the main staircase, which is near thresholds, to protect the house from evil spirits. And the curse, the screaming, the storms, the poltergeist activity, is simply the consequence of breaking that tradition. It's a story that enforces a rule. It's the same principle as the legend of the ravens at the Tower of London, which are awesome if you ever get a chance to see them. Don't remove them or bad things will happen. The story ensures the tradition is maintained. As we mentioned earlier, there was a theory that the screaming legend was a hoax invented in the 1930s to dupe a journalist because the simple story of it being a holy relic wasn't exciting enough. So they needed to get it to clickbait status. Okay. But that doesn't explain the accounts of phenomena. And I think you and I at this point believe that phenomena is possible. Unexplainable phenomena is possible. Well, even if the origin stories are folklore, of course, people reported things happening, right? That actually did happen. Not that they were true, but they reported something unusual, at the very least, with the Betescombe skull. An owner supposedly threw it in a pond and was plagued all night by, quote, unearthly screams and groans, end quote, until he put it back. And Dickey supposedly caused the foundations of a railway bridge to collapse in 1863, forcing the company to reroute the line. So now, are we saying every single one of those accounts is just made up? You know, what if the stories are false, but the powers are real? Think about that. The story that explains it or the account that ends up in history is not correct, but something extraordinary did happen. So what if these skulls, you know, especially the prehistoric ones, are tied to something much older, some older evil or ancient spirit? David Clark, in his thesis on the subject, pointed out that the reverence for the head has ancient roots, as we were saying, particularly the Celtic cult of the head. Now, we talked about this before, Scott, is that, and I also got this from a Wondery lecture. Somebody who I think it was a neo-Celtic person or a neo-pagan was questioning our reportage of the practice of the Celts beheading people and veneration of skulls. And I think even the Druids, you know, tying them to trees, body parts and such. And they said, well, I don't think that's true. Where'd you get your info? Well, I got it from a professor who also got it from one, I think, Roman historian who had learned of descriptions. And that's often how we know about these things of ancient peoples where there are no written records. Some historian way back in olden times, somebody famous wrote it down. And that's all we have to go by because they had heard about it from other folks. So it's kind of an ancient telephone game here. But in any case, we were saying about David Clark and the cult of the head. As he says, the head was seen as the seat of identity, power, or the soul, as we're saying. Archaeological evidence includes severed skulls, skull cups, and the ritual of depositing of crania in bogs, wells, and special places that suggest some kind of ritualistic or trophy practices. Medieval Irish literature preserves accounts of headhunting, talking, or prophetic heads, giving you information about things unknown. And the display of heads as symbols of victory and prestige. We certainly talked about this quite a bit when we covered Gobekli Tepe about that practice that's super ancient, where you didn't have photos or carvings of your loved ones. You kept their skull and you adorned it with, they had little seashells for eyes. Clay was formed around it. That's right. And you kept it. It was a natural thing. You kept it in your house. It was like, hey, there's grandpa. That's right. But there's a big problem with that theory about the symbol of victory or prestige. The screaming skull tradition is almost exclusively English. Didn't think about that, did you? You don't find it in Wales, Scotland, or Ireland. The very places you'd expect to find surviving Celtic traditions. And most of the legends don't seem to predate the 16th century also, which is a huge gap in time from the Iron Age Celts. Also, another side thing I'll tell you about Celts I didn't know in all my years of elementary school and high school and whatnot. What is known now is, I thought being Celtic was an ethnic identity. It's actually more of a lifestyle or social. Like you could be a Spanish Celt. You could be a Celt from some other place. It's just really practicing the lifestyle and the traditions of a Celtic culture. So you could be from anywhere. It's not, yeah, it's not an ethnic or- Oh, that's interesting. You don't have to be born a Celt. Any case, could this all be a fragmented memory of that tradition though, lingering in certain parts of England that still have Celtic place names? Yeah. Because it taps into very old primal ideas. You know, the head is the seat of intelligence, of your identity. Even when it's just a skull, we see it as a person, right? Not just an object. Unlike seeing somebody's thigh bone, you don't know what that is. It's, we don't identify with other bones per se. Yeah, yeah. What's it like? It's like when you see a skull, you say, oh, who's that? Or who was that? You don't say that about a femur. That's right. It's the framework of the face, which we identify with. And so, yeah, even when we just see it's a skull, we see it as a person, not an object. You know, other Francis Larson wrote that once a part of the human body is kept above ground for any length of time, it, quote, develops an identity of its own and tends to resist its own burial, end quote. So are you suggesting the object itself acquires a kind of like agency, not because it's the ghost of a specific person from a legend, but because it's a human skull that's being kept from its rest? Well, all right. What if it's that exactly? Okay. In a way, it's a conceptual thing. And we don't know. Listen, these are things for mediums and other people who can see beyond the veil. Well, and not so much even anthropologists or archaeologists, I think, I believe, I think you do. I'm not going to speak for you, but that there could be things that exist that are haunted objects, things that are, I mean, it could be a doll, a rocking chair, grandma's old phonograph in which she had her witch coven dancing around, you know, playing hot jazz devil's music in the 1920s, whatever it is, objects, physical things can contain spirit. It's that in a way. Yeah. It's that a stone tape theory kind of idea. Something could be imbued in a physical object. Well, in this case, what could be more imbued than the skull of, uh, that contain the, the, uh, the meat and potatoes of somebody who was alive at one time and all their energy. And it, that goes on to represent that person or just a concept that is universal, not just English, but just all over the world. That's why you find this, uh, again, there's the veneration of, uh, of thumb bones that I know is, is quite as much that endures quite so permanently. And, you know, the skull doesn't care if you call it Dickie or Ann Griffith or whatever the heck you can't even identify its origin, you know, something just by looking at it and take that takes science and you get to a degree, but, but even with that science, you don't get to who that person was really. We can just make assessments. I do love that forensic technique where they apply clay and, and, uh, measurements to get a look, but do they really look like that? Well, that's probably good enough. You know, like I said, it, it looks like a person because you have a real framework for that face and that person. And we can imagine ourselves being in that timeframe, you know, and the stories are just masks that we put on that skull. Uh, we, we overlay our own ideas and dreams of what that was like and the, the drama and the turmoil and the hopes and joys of the person that lived it because that's our connection to the past. But the reality in this theory anyway, is that it's a human remnant that has been separated from its proper place, right? So something's amiss. And all of these stories of paranormal events are a protest of that displacement. And the skull becomes a spiritual vessel and either a benevolent guardian or a malevolent poltergeist, depending entirely on how you treat it. That's going to wrap up episode 317 of Astonishing Legends. A very special thanks to Neville de Beauchamp, Anne Griffith, Father Ambrose Barlow, Theophilus Brome, the unnamed slave of the Penny family, Dickie, and any other folks, some nefarious, some good, who gave their heads to the astonishing legend of the Screaming Skulls. Links for this episode are in our show notes. We'll be back in two weeks with the first of three shows in a row for October. Look for new episodes of the Dead Letter Office weekly on Tuesdays and keep an eye on our Patreon for more bonus content. Exclusive Halloween merch announcement soon. Subscribe to the show now if you haven't already. And don't wait when those announcements get posted. Supplies will be limited. Astonishing Legends is edited by Sarah Voorhees-Wendell at VW Sound. Our co-producer is Tess Feifel, who also leads our research efforts and manages our social media. And we're grateful for the hard work of our technical producer, Ed Vakola, behind the scenes. Special thanks to our announcer, John Bolin, for lending his voice to our shows. This is Corey Walsh. Hi, this is Laurie McGann. L-U-C-A-S. My name is Corey Walsh. And I give permission to astonishing legends. Present or future compensation. Our theme, which is available as a ringtone, was composed by Judson Crane at FounderMusic.com. All other music and sound design for the show is composed and created by Alan Caressia. Our logo was created by Tommy Beaver Design. And our animated graphics for social media and YouTube are done by Joshua Sloan at DeadStreetProductions.com. Many episodes have transcripts available. For ones that don't, you can request them by emailing transcripts at AstonishingLegends.com. Astonishing Legends would not be possible without you, our listeners. Visit our store at AstonishingLegends.com or interact with us and other listeners on Facebook, Instagram, Blue Sky, Discord, and YouTube. You can also visit us at Patreon.com slash AstonishingLegends, where patrons have access to commercial-free versions of both the main show and the dead letter office, as well as additional bonus content, including the Patreon-exclusive show, The Astonishing Junk Door. No part of this show may be reproduced anywhere without permission. Copyright Astonishing Legends Productions. Good night. Hello, hello. I'm Malcolm Gladwell, host of the podcast Smart Talks with IBM. I recently sat down with IBM's chairman and CEO, Arvind Krishna. And I asked him, how can companies use AI to its fullest potential to create smarter business? My one advice to them, pick areas you can scale. Don't pick the shiny little toys on the side. For example? If anybody has more than 10% of what they had for customer service 10 years ago, they're already five years behind. If anybody is not using AI to make their developers who write software 30% more productive today, with the goal of being 70% more productive. Yeah. Wow. So we are not asking our clients to be the first experiment on it. We say, you can leverage what we did. We are happy to bring out all our learnings, including what needs to change in the process, because the biggest change is not technology. It's getting people to accept that there's a different way to do things. To listen to the full conversation, visit ibm.com slash smarttalks. If data management is slowing down your business, you need the Intuit ERP. If one entity is here and one here and one here and one here, you need the Intuit ERP. If scaling your business feels like start starting over, you need the Intuit ERP. Intuit Enterprise Suite is the AI-native ERP solution that consolidates, migrates, and automates all in one place. Learn more at intuit.com slash ERP. All right. Quick quiz for the hiring managers out there. What's worse, being understaffed or being poorly staffed? Well, that's a trick question because both are recipes for chaos. Either way, just say to yourself, this is a job for Indeed's sponsored jobs. You'll get matched with candidates that meet the skills, certifications, and everything else you're looking for. Or go a different way and get no traction. Seriously, sponsored jobs posted directly on Indeed are 95% more likely to report a hire than non-sponsored jobs. It really is a no-brainer. Spend less time searching and more time actually interviewing candidates who check all your boxes. Less stress, less time, more results. When you need the right person to cut through the chaos, this is a job for Indeed's sponsored jobs. And listeners of this show will get a $75 sponsored job credit to help your job get the premium status it deserves at Indeed.com slash podcast. Just go to Indeed.com slash podcast right now. Indeed.com slash podcast. Terms and conditions apply. Need to hire? This is a job for Indeed's sponsored jobs. On eBay, every find has a story. Like if you're looking for a vintage band tee. Not just a tee. The band tee. From the last show your favorite band ever played. You wore it everywhere. Then, your BFF started glaring in. Which was cute. Until they unfriended you and took it with them. Which was... Not so cute. Anyway, now you're on eBay. And there it is. Same tee. From the same tour. Still living in your memory. Rent free. Forever. See? The things you love have a way of finding their way back to you. But eBay isn't just for getting whatever your ex-BFF stole back. It's also for that rare championship foul ball you caught. Then heroically gave to the kid next to you. And where else are you going to find your first car? The one you wish you never sold. But now, you finally get the chance to take back home. For good this time. Shop eBay for millions of finds. Eat with a story. eBay. Things people love. No matter the occasion, snack time should be easy. That's why Skinny Pop Popcorn keeps it light, airy, and endlessly delicious. Skinny Pop is made from just three simple ingredients. Delivering an irresistible taste without being complicated. Skinny Pop's simplicity allows you to freely enjoy as much popcorn as you want. Just open the bag and enjoy. No overthinking. No tough choices. When it comes to snacking, Skinny Pop just makes sense. Deliciously popped. Perfectly salted. Skinny Pop. Popular for a reason. Hello, hello. I'm Malcolm Gladwell, host of Smart Talks with IBM. I recently spoke with IBM's new director of research, Jake Embatta. We discussed his vision for the future of quantum computing. At IBM Research, what we always do is answer what is the future of computing, whether it's coming up with new algorithms, coming up with better AI, coming up with quantum, or coming up with just how do different accelerators go together. It's our DNA to answer the question of what is the future. Isn't it a perfect problem for IBM because you kind of need to have a legacy of building stuff? Yes. Building actual physical machines. Yeah, it's why I came to IBM. I wanted the experience, the culture of building hard things that others have not done before. Where do you imagine we are in the timeline of this technology? There will come a point when it will mature, right? Yeah. My cell phone is a mature technology at this point. How far are we from that point with quantum? By 2029, we'll build the first fault-tolerant quantum computer. That is one that can run a very, very large, large problem. To learn how IBM is building the future of computing, visit ibm.com slash quantum. If data management is slowing down your business, you need the Intuit ERP. If one entity is here, and one here, and one here, and one here, you need the Intuit ERP. If scaling your business feels like start starting over, you need the Intuit ERP. Intuit Enterprise Suite is the AI-native ERP solution that consolidates, migrates, and automates all in one place. Learn more at intuit.com slash ERP. All right, quick quiz for the hiring managers out there. What's worse, being understaffed or being poorly staffed? Well, that's a trick question, because both are recipes for chaos. Either way, just say to yourself, this is a job for Indeed's sponsored jobs. You'll get matched with candidates that meet the skills, certifications, and everything else you're looking for. Or go a different way and get no traction. Seriously, sponsored jobs posted directly on Indeed are 95% more likely to report a hire than non-sponsored jobs. It really is a no-brainer. Spend less time searching and more time actually interviewing candidates who check all your boxes. Less stress, less time, more results. When you need the right person to cut through the chaos, this is a job for Indeed's sponsored jobs. And listeners of this show will get a $75 sponsored job credit to help your job get the premium status it deserves at Indeed.com slash podcast. Just go to Indeed.com slash podcast right now. Indeed.com slash podcast. Terms and conditions apply. Need to hire? This is a job for Indeed's sponsored jobs. On eBay, every find has a story. Like if you're looking for a vintage band tee. Not just a tee. The band tee. From the last show your favorite band ever played. You wore it everywhere. Then, your BFF started glaring it. Which was cute until they unfriended you and took it with them. Which was not so cute. Anyway, now you're on eBay. And there it is. Same tee from the same tour. Still living in your memory. Rent free forever. See? The things you love have a way of finding their way back to you. But eBay isn't just for getting whatever your ex-BFF stole back. It's also for that rare championship foul ball you caught. Then heroically gave to the kid next to you. And where else are you going to find your first car? The one you wish you never sold. But now, you finally get the chance to take back home. For good this time. Shop eBay for millions of finds. Eat with a story. eBay. Things people love. No matter the occasion, snack time should be easy. That's why Skinny Pop Popcorn keeps it light, airy, and endlessly delicious. Skinny Pop is made from just three simple ingredients, delivering an irresistible taste without being complicated. Skinny Pop simplicity allows you to freely enjoy as much popcorn as you want. Just open the bag and enjoy. No overthinking. No tough choices. When it comes to snacking, Skinny Pop just makes sense. Deliciously popped. Perfectly salted. Skinny Pop. Popular for a reason. Success starts with your drive. And American Public University is here to fuel it. With affordable tuition and over 200 flexible online programs, APU helps you gain the skills and confidence to move forward. Whether you're changing careers, starting fresh, or pursuing a lifelong passion, our programs are designed for people who never stop. You bring the fire, APU will fuel the journey. Learn more at apu.apus.edu. By the time I hit my 50s, I'd learned a few things. Like how family is precious. Work can always wait. And 99% of people over 50 already have the virus that causes shingles. Not everyone at risk will develop it, but I did. The painful, blistering rash disrupted my life for weeks. Don't learn about your shingles risk the hard way. Talk to your doctor or pharmacist today. Sponsored by GSK. With the Venmo debit card, a taco in one hand, and ordering a ride in the other, means you're stacking your rewards. Nice. Get up to 5% cash back with Venmo Stash on your favorite brands when you pay with your Venmo debit card. From takeout to ride shares, entertainment and more. Pick a bundle with your go-tos and start earning cash back at those brands. Do more stash, get more cash. Venmo Stash bundle terms and exclusions apply. See terms at venmo.me slash stash terms. Max $100 cash back per month.