Who’s been sleeping in my bed?

Warwick Castle was a fortification from 914 onwards and a family home up until 1978. They were a very rich family. Several nondescript members of the nobility stayed in this guest room, but far more importantly…

Just down the corridor is this room.

Aleister Crowley used to hold seances here. The oak paneling was originally in Kenilworth Castle where it was commissioned by Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester (remember him, the guy who founded the hospital?) when Elizabeth I (who he had the hots for) was coming to visit. Apparently, “Come up and see the new paneling,” was the Tudor equivalent of “Netflix and chill?”. Elizabeth I owned Warwick Castle, but apparently never visited it, though they do have one of her saddles. She must have had a small bum.

In answer to a question in the comments, yes, there are still peacocks.

They have also added a falconry show with a number of large raptors.

It’s not real falconry, in that the birds don’t get to prey on live animals. Apparently one of the birds did start developing a taste for the local ducks, but when he struck one with a thump, a squawk and a cloud of feathers in the main court of the castle right next to the director of entertainment, he was put out to stud. The local ducks can mature their felonious little plans without fear of sudden death from above. Pity!

More battle swans.

Possibly going into battle with a fake swan on top of your helmet was not the best idea. If it was a real swan the shock and awe this would induce in the opposing forces would more than make up for the occasional swanshit down the back of your neck, but one sight of the fake swan helmet and the opposing foot soldiers would reaching for their billhooks to try and pull you off the horse. Capturing and ransoming a rich knight was the medieval equivalent of winning the Powerball lottery: “No more living in a pigsty for me, Piers, now I can afford a real hovel.”

It was only with the discovery of the quick release swan in 1482 that swan helmets became battlefield ready.

The castle has a huge collection of arms and armour, which the Greville family would let their guests play with. On one Pythonesque occasion the a touring New Zealand cricket team borrowed suits of armour to wear to a cricket match. That’s probably the best way to deal with fast bowling, but you’re not going to run between the wickets very fast.

Let’s talk about the legendary medieval giant warrior Guy of Warwick. He fought monsters and dragons, but his most famous victory was against The Dun Cow.

A cow? A cow? Seriously? Not even a bull? Maybe it was all a joke.

First Jester: I say, I say, I say, how does Guy of Warwick like his cows?
Second Jester: Ooo, Arrrr, ‘E likes ’em well Dun.

Trust me, it was funny in 1300. This is reputed to be Guy of Warwick’s porringer.

It dates back to 1425, and from 1695 to 1978 it was used as a punchbowl.

My favorite room is the library.

Of course, the provenance of the books may be suspect. This one still has a “Warwick Public Library” stamp on it.

The castle is now owned by the same company that owns Madame Tussauds and Legoland, so there is medieval muzak playing and the outside is sadly littered with burger joints and souvenir stands, but they have done a great job on presenting the interior rooms, and the staff were friendly and knowledgable. You could pretty much make up your own tour by pointing one of the exhibits and saying, “Tell me about that.” Here are some outside views, carefully cropped so you don’t see the crappy 21st Century merchandising.

This is how you load a trebuchet.

Twice a day this puppy fires a flaming payload into the next field. Last year, stray sparks from the projectile started a fire and burned down a Grade One Listed building. If they can that much damage accidentally, just think what they could do if they were trying.