Fitzford was the name of one of the river suburbs of Tavistock, and was once upon a time the residence of the Fitze family.  According to some ancient histories of Devon, one of which had the significant title of The Bloudie Book, Sir John Fitze was noted as a turbulent, dangerous man, ever ready with his sword on all occasions.  Meeting with many of his neighbours at a noontide dinner at Tavistock, he was vaunting his free tenure and boasting that he did not hold a foot of land from any but the “Queene of England,” when his neighbour, “Maister Slanning,” reminded him of a small piece of land he had of his for which he was liable for rent, but for which no payment had been asked by reason of “courtesie and friendshippe.”  Upon hearing these words Fitze flew in a furious rage and told Slanning with a great oath that he lied,

and withal gave fuel to his rage and reines of spight in the unjustness of his anger—­offering to stab him.  But Maister Slanning, who was known to be a man of no less courage, and more courtesie, with a great knife that he had, warded the hazard of such threatenings.

The quarrel was stopped by the intervention of friends, and Slanning, thinking the matter was at an end, shortly afterwards rode home in company with only one servant.

Long had they not ridden but commanding the man to walk down his horses in the way, himself the while taking the greene fields for his more contented walking; he might behold Sir John Fitze, with four more, galloping amane after him, which sight could not but be a great amazement to Maister Slanning.

The quarrel was renewed, and Slanning, who was, by the way, a brave man, perceived that Fitze was determined to kill him; but he had no chance against live swords, and when he got to Fitzford gateway he received a blow from behind which staggered him, and Fitze, seizing the opportunity, ran his sword through his body, and poor Slanning fell to the floor a murdered man.

Fitze fled to France, and his friends obtained some kind of a pardon for him; but when he returned they all gave him the cold shoulder; he was avoided by everybody, and to add to his discomfort the children of Slanning sued him in London for compensation.

Meanwhile the guilt in blood weighed heavily upon him, increasing in intensity as years went on, and the shade of Slanning never left him day or night, until finally he could not sleep, for the most horrid dreams awoke him and his screams in the night were awful to hear.  Sometimes he dreamt he was being pursued by the police, then by black demons and other hideous monsters, while in the background was always the ghost of the man he had so cruelly murdered.