Looking across Pollard’s lands today, which lie within a loop of the River Wear in County Durham. The stone wall on the right belongs to the Gentleman’s Hall of Auckland Castle. The turf immediately below is where the enterprising Pollard rode during the Bishop’s dinner.
Part 1 of 2
THE estates around Auckland Castle, seat of the Bishops of Durham, were troubled by a wild boar, so much so that the Bishop and even the King had each put up a princely reward for his head.
So Richard Pollard, of respectable but impoverished family, climbed a beech tree overhanging the animal’s regular paths, shook down a quantity of beechnuts, and waited. As expected, the boar came on them and gobbled them up, allowing Pollard to slip down from his tree and behead him. Pollard sliced off a little tongue, pocketed it for later, and settled down for a nap.
When he awoke, the trophy head was gone.
The Bishop, who was at dinner, graciously declared the tongue token enough without the head, and promised as much land from his estate as Pollard could ride around before the meal was over.
As his lordship was finishing his wine, Pollard reappeared to say that he had ridden round Auckland Castle — and looked expectantly at the paling bishop.
As with most legends, this one occurs in more than one form. For a slightly different account, see England’s North East: Bishop Auckland.
Précis
Richard Pollard killed a wild boar for the bounty on its head, but while he slept his trophy was stolen. Happily, he had kept a slice of its tongue, which was accepted as proof of his claim. The Bishop of Durham invited him to choose some land as a reward, and Pollard cheekily named the Bishop’s castle. (57 / 60 words)
Part Two
Butter wouldn’t melt... but these wild boar piglets are safely confined to the Culzie Wild Boar Project in Scotland. Roaming free, the adults (which can reach 27 stones in weight) dig up fields, ravage crops and trees, and breed enthusiatically with domesticated pigs, a real problem for an agrarian economy like mediaeval Durham’s. On the other hand, a country with wild boar definitely has class.
THE Bishop was a man of honour, and redeemed his Castle by asking Pollard to accept instead a spread of best-quality farmland, the only stipulation being that the Pollards would present each new bishop with a handsome falchion in token of the right to the land (a ceremony practised until 1856).
Meanwhile the lord of another ancient family, the Northumberland Mitfords, was exhibiting Pollard’s hard-won trophy to the King as his own. On his way to the capital on business, he had seen the head lying next to the sleeping Pollard, speared it, and ridden on to claim his prize. When this news reached Pollard, he hurried after to present his sliver of tongue, but His Majesty was now weary of the matter.
The Pollards of Pollard Hall proudly included a silver falchion, token of their right, in their family’s coat of arms. The Mitfords’ arms, on the other hand, showed a boar’s head pierced by a spike, and the motto, ‘God careth for us’.
Précis
Pollard gave up his claim on Auckland Castle in exchange for a tract of farmland, but was incensed when he heard the Mitfords were claiming a prize for the stolen boar’s head. Pollard had to be content with his grant of land in Durham, however, for which his heirs gave a new sword to each incoming Bishop until 1856. (58 / 60 words)
