Country Matters: Death and the determined village

AT THE south-western edge of the Cotswolds, where the hills tumble to the plain, the escarpment is clad for mile after mile by a belt of woodland that winds in and out along the spurs and folds carved by retreating glaciers at the end of the last Ice Age. Above and below the 400ft bank, the land is farmed; but the face itself is too steep to be cultivated, and for centuries it has grown beech, ash, hazel and wild cherry.

Ancient trackways slant up and down through the trees, cutting across the contours at angles comfortable for men and horses, and in spring the ground becomes a sea of bluebells and wild garlic. A few roe deer frequent the quietest corners, and badgers abound, for the soft limestone is easily dug.

The fact that 74 acres of these woods are up for sale is hardly a matter of national importance. Yet it is of burning concern to the inhabitants of King's Stanley, because the village sits in the plain a short distance from the foot of the hills, and the block in question - known as Penn Woods - forms a grand backdrop, commanding the skyline immediately to the west.

Behind the sale there lies a dramatic story. Some years ago, Tony Alliss, a smallholder and builder, bought a house at the very bottom of the hill, beneath Penn Woods. There was no road or right of way to the landlocked property, which previous owners had reached by crossing the fields; but when he asked the owner of the neighbouring land for permission to put in a road, the man refused.

Mr Alliss was thus obliged to buy the woods above, which he managed to do in 1989 by joining forces with another landowner. He then made a steep, gravel track down through the woods to his house, and so gave himself access. But in July 1990, in the midst of a long-running, bitter boundary dispute with another neighbour (not the one who had blocked him in), Mr Alliss was murdered.

Whatever the precise nature of the fatal encounter, it is clear that an extremely violent scene took place. Mr Alliss was shot from point-blank range with a double-barrelled 12-bore, staggered some 30 yards and collapsed, dead, in a pool of blood. His 15-year-old son, Leigh, was also shot at, as were two ambulance men who came in answer to an emergency call and tried to recover the body. The alleged assailants, father and son, were jointly accused of murder, and remanded in custody for 11 months, but in July 1991 both were released after a judge at Bristol Crown Court decided they had no case to answer.

The incident horrified the villagers, and left them divided over who was to blame. The rights and wrongs of the case are not now at issue, but Mr Alliss's widow has put the wood on the market, and the local community has taken the courageous decision to buy it, if funds can be raised by the deadline at the end of September.

Everyone knows that the price - pounds 126,000, or pounds 1,700 per acre - is well above current market value, especially as the wood has suffered a good deal in recent years. The 1990 hurricane wreaked havoc in the top of it, and much felling has been done, with the result that the skyline looks like ragged lace, instead of a solid rampart of trees.

All the same, the people of King's Stanley have long regarded it as their wood, partly because it is constantly in their view, and partly because previous owners have allowed them free access to it. They now feel this may be their only chance of transferring it into true public ownership.

The idea is that funds should be raised by the community, but that the land should actually be bought, and then managed, by the Woodland Trust, the excellent charity which has grown rapidly since its foundation in 1972 and now owns more than 17,000 acres throughout Britain.

A meeting last week in the village hall had been awaited with some trepidation by its organisers. The large room filled up well before the start time, and highly charged pictures of trees being cut down, painted by local school children, hinted at undercurrents of strong emotion. Yet the evening turned out a model of how this kind of business should be conducted. In the chair was Beth Cheyne, wife of the local doctor and herself a magistrate, and it was undoubtedly her calm, clear direction which kept people on the rails.

At first, the atmosphere was tense, because everyone present knew the background of the story all too well. Early in the proceedings, a dignified letter from Mrs Alliss was read out, explaining that she hoped the trust would manage to buy the wood, and that her husband's name would live on in the district - a message which was received sympathetically.

James Underhill, local fund-raising officer of the Woodland Trust, then explained how his organisation would manage Penn Woods if it got the chance. The trust already owns 300 woods, and on average buys one a week. Being a charity, it can offer a cast-iron form of ownership, in perpetuity. Moreover, it guarantees to manage its properties in a positive way. Production of timber is a relatively low priority, the primary aims being to enhance landscape, encourage wildlife, and provide opportunities for quiet recreations, such as walking and riding. Motorbikes and clay-pigeon shooting, Mr Underhill declared firmly, are out.

As he emphasised, Penn Woods need extensive restoration. One five-acre patch has been so compacted by bulldozers extracting timber that no regeneration seems likely to take place unless the ground is first cultivated. Both there and elsewhere, it will be necessary to replant with beech, traditionally the dominant species on the escarpment: otherwise opportunistic intruders such as ash and sycamore will take over.

Having answered a few questions, Mr Underhill gave way to his colleague Kim Wisdom, the Trust's woodland officer for Gloucestershire, who discussed management policies in greater detail. In particular, she raised the possibility of creating a bridle path right through the property, which would enable riders to keep off the dangerous road above.

When Mrs Cheyne asked for general questions, one woman eloquently made the point that the scheme deserved support not just from the village, but from a far wider area, since the woods are visible from miles around, not least to drivers on the M5 proceeding north and south past Gloucester. One or two niggling questions were asked, but when Mrs Cheyne called for a vote on whether or not the bid should go ahead, a forest of hands shot up in unison. People were then encouraged to fill in pledge forms, not handing over any money now, but promising to pay contributions if and when funds are needed.

To raise pounds 126,000 in less than three months is a daunting challenge for a small community, especially at a time like the present. King's Stanley could do with another benefactor such as the Marling family of mill owners, who gave the village (among other things) its splendid recreation ground in the Twenties. Alas, the Marlings have long departed, and the people are on their own; but I sensed considerable determination in the hall that night, as if the tragedy had put steel into everyone present and given them the strength to gain control of their wood on the hill, for the benefit of future generations.