I’m told that English giants often had just one eye, like the cyclops of classical stories. This is one such giant, placed at a very particular time and place.

Up until the time of Henry VII, Sessay and the lands around were owned by the Darell family. At this point, the Darell’s were left without a male heir, and the eldest daughter of the family, Joan Darell, took over the lands.

About the same time a strange monster began to haunt the woods around the village. He was a huge brute in human form, with legs like elephants’ legs, arms of a similar size, and a face that was most fierce to look upon. He had only one eye, placed in the midst of his forehead, his mouth was as large as a lion’s, and garnished with teeth as long as the prongs of a hayfork.

The only clothing he wore was a cow’s hide fastened across his chest, while over his shoulder he usually carried as a weapon, a club formed of a stout young tree, torn up by the roots.

Now and then he made the woods ring with demoniacal laughter, now and then with the most savage, unearthly growls you have ever heard.

Like most giants of olden times he had a ravenous appetite, and daily he visited the tanners’ herds and walked off with a choice heifer or fat ox under his arm, devouring it raw in his lair, a cave in the woods.

If he wanted a change of diet, he paid a visit to the neighbouring miller and stole a sack of oatmeal, drawn with his long arm through the mill window. This he took to his cave, and, mixing it in a large trough, with the blood of the animals he had stolen, he ate the porridge thus made with a wonderful relish. But, worst of all, if he wanted a very choice morsel, he would carry off a delicate young maiden from some village home, or a child from its cradle.

This was no pleasant neighbour to have, and the inhabitants of Sessay, more than once, banded themselves together to destroy him, but all their efforts came to nothing.

Either they could not succeed in tracking him to his den, or, if they did, the way in which he showed his enormous teeth, roared out his unearthly growls, or played with the young tree he carried in his hand, had such an effect that his would-be assailants made themselves scarce quicker than they came.

About this time there came a brave young soldier, who had taken an active part, and done wonderful things, in the wars abroad. Guy, son of Sir John D’Aunay paid a visit to Joan Darell, who was the daughter of an old friend of his father.

He found her occupied in the running her large and complicated estate and household. One of her difficulties was persuading any of her woodmen to go to the Woods for the necessary timber for fuel and building repairs. She was trying to persuade one so to do when D’Aunay arrived.

‘I have heard,’ said he, ‘of this monster who so terrifies your servants, and devours your tenants’ cattle, and even their children. Is it indeed true?’

‘Alas’, she replied, ‘it is only too true. But come in and take refreshments.’

Now, young D’Aunay had come on an errand at which many young men evince a good deal of nervousness, and beating about the bush. But he went directly to the point, and told the strongminded spinster, the heiress of all the broad acres of the Darells, that he thought a union of the property of the Darells and D’Aunays would serve to build up a great family estate. Would she wed him, and make this happen?

She admired his honesty, and agreed on one condition, to prove that he deserved to marry the last of the Darells.

‘Name the condition,’ said he. ‘I will undertake the task, whatever it may be.’

She replied, ‘Slay the monster who is desolating our fields and spreading such lamentation and woe over the village. Rid us of this brute, and my hand is yours.’

‘Willingly will I try’, was the response, ‘and if I fail, I shall fail in a good cause.’

‘See, there comes the giant’, cried the lady, looking through the window and seeing the monster stalking out of the wood, with his tree trunk club over his shoulder, towards the mill.

‘Truly he is a fearful adversary’ exclaimed the champion, as he joined her at the window and proceeded to buckle on his sword.

On went the giant towards the mill, evidently set on fetching his usual sack of meal. The miller saw him and trembled, but took no steps to protect his property. The mill was one of those the top of which, with sails, turns on a pivot with the wind.

Suddenly, as the giant was drawing the sack out of the window, the wind changed, and swept the sails round to the side on which he was. Round came the arms, or sails, and one of them, catching the monster on the head, sent him stunned on his back to the ground. Young Sir Guy saw his opportunity, ran up, and, before the giant recovered his senses, drove his sword through the brute’s one eye into his brain.

There were great rejoicings in the area all around Sessay. Next day an immense trench was dug, and the enormous carcase of the giant rolled into it and buried, amid shouts of thanks for Sir Guy.

Not many weeks afterwards the bells of Sessay rang merrily at the wedding of Joan Darell and young Sir Guy D’Aunays, from whom, I suppose, is descended family of that name, which still, I believe, owns the place.