The Norman conquerors had a logistical problem in the few years after the Battle of Hastings: there were only about 10,000 of them to keep the lid on a hostile nation of two million which was constantly in revolt somewhere or other.

Their solution was castles to dominate the surrounding countryside and provide a base for whichever of King William's associates held that particular slice of country among his spoils.

William de Warenne, having got large chunks of Norfolk (and for that matter, a dozen other counties) in his allotment, picked Castle Acre as his Norfolk seat.

It was an interesting choice for this is not the most fertile part of the county at the north end of Breckland, that swathe of central-west Norfolk and north-west Suffolk characterised by stony ground, heathland and, these days, twisted pines. But it was pretty enough, on a south facing slope just above the trout-laden River Nar. And it was on the Peddar's Way, a trans-East Anglia route of uncertain origin but certainly adopted - if not built by - the Romans and, these days, by long distance walkers.

Warenne had intended also to build a Cluniac priory following a similar project at Lewes but in 1088, he was wounded during an insurrection in Sussex and, having been created the first Earl of Surrey for his pains, he expired. His son nevertheless took up the work which began about 1090.

Today, the remains of castle and priory are Castle Acre's claim to fame.

The Priory, though now largely skeletal, was clearly a grand edifice. The Cluniac Order - from Cluny in France - was founded in 909AD,to return to the original rule of St Benedict, but it somehow lost the message, becoming extremely wealthy, magnificent in ritual and somewhat remote from the supposed simplicity and poverty.

Strange then that this priory did not flourish, despite many benefactors, ample revenue and great possessions which included, apparently, the prize exhibit of the arm of St Philip. Debts and scandals in the 13th and 14th centuries culminated in the arrest in 1351 of the monks who had 'spurned the habit of their order and were vagabonds in England in secular habit'. When the priory surrendered to Henry VIII in 1537, only 10 were in residence out of a complement of thirty or more. There is no word of the arm.

By then, the castle was long derelict. The Warennes' occupation had spanned 250 years but later generations lost interest. In 1615, the castle and priory passed to Sir Edward Coke, Earl of Leicester, who was already accused by the Crown of monopoly through massive landholdings but asked to buy just one more 'acre'. The Castle Acre estate was as large as his other lands together.

The Leicesters remained big landowners in the area thereafter but Castle Acre has never been an estate village, land having always been held by several freeholders.

This was significant for the development of 'gang labour' in the 19th century. At that time, ratepayers paid according to the people living on their land and big estates thus tried to restrict settlement on theirs. But they still needed extra labour and this travelled in from 'open villages' like Castle Acre where speculators threw up basic accommodation and charged high rents.

By then the village had grown beyond the original fortifications and, even from the 17th century when the Breckland landscape had finally been stripped of its useful woodland, had seen building in flint and stone for the simplest houses. Norfolk after all had plenty of flint. Dressed stone however was purloined from the ruins; it still features in many a Castle Acre quoin. The Rev JH Bloom in his 1843 book, The Castle and Priory at Castle Acre berated such thievery with, he claims, some success.

This was significant for the development of 'gang labour' in the 19th century. At that time, ratepayers paid according to the people living on their land and big estates thus tried to restrict settlement on theirs. But they still needed extra labour and this travelled in from 'open villages' like Castle Acre where speculators threw up basic accommodation and charged high rents.

These days, the ruins, now tended by English Heritage, are regarded as the nation's best in their respective Norman categories. Walkers breaking their journey also find a village with its Norman heart basically intact. There are restaurants, a tea shop and two decent pubs - the Ostrich, once a coaching inn, and the Albert Victor, formerly the Dun Cow.

There were another five pubs even in this century but three are now houses - the Rising Sun on the Newton road, the Chequers in Bailey Street below the surviving Norman town arch and the Forrester's Arms once also known as the Drum and Monkey because a traveller with a monkey on a barrel organ used to go there.

The Ship further down is an antiques shop while the Red Lion, now the Old Red Lion, is a vegetarian hostel and restaurant, which was recently repainted bright red and canary yellow, to mixed reviews, it has to be said. TV, radio and newspapers all got in briefly on the debate.

But, for all its history, no other great stirring event appears to have happened in Castle Acre. Katherine Steward, paternal grandmother of Oliver Cromwell was born there, and Cromwell himself indirectly left a mark on the church font cover, according to local resident, John Dawes, 40 years in Australia and now returned to the village of his birth.

When I was small, the font cover had a dull finish but a man from Norwich museum stripped it down to find gilt and reds and greens.

Parishioners had applied whitewash to prevent it catching the disapproving eye of Cromwell's puritans.'

He also recalls the crash of a wartime Lancaster on Hungry Hill to the south from where a wheel bounced over roads and hedges for nearly a mile to finish up at the river in the valley. Otherwise things have been pretty quiet.

But that is probably no bad thing. For there is no mistaking the romance of the place no matter that writers decry the manicuring of those ruins of the last few decades. There are views to be had at Castle Acre which, give or take a few power lines, will not differ markedly from what the Warennes looked out upon from their early spartan existence. It could just stay that way.

Reproduced by kind permission of John Worrall © 2002