This passage forms part of historian Fred Hando’s journey through the Gwent

THE WEST wall nearest to the bus terminus, contains two lovely early Tudor windows, complete with interesting dripstones, two attic windows of the same period blocked up to evade the window tax, a large fireplace and chimney, and a portion of spiral staircase.

Facing the churchyard is a wall which runs the whole length of the house, and her is a veritable display of window construction. At the far end of the churchyard wall an external stairs led tot he bedrooms.

Another external staircase of oak used to beautify the south wall of the main building. In 1931, when the old house was threatened with restoration - please forgive me! - I sketched it in detail.

The existence of stables at Church House seems to show that it was at this house that the extra horses added at the King’s Head Newport, for the Christchurch Hill ascent would be left.

We pass on the left the good stone house of Mount St. Alban.

On this site, traditionally, the saint of Verulam was martyred. In Coxe’s time a yew tree marked the position of the chapel dedicated to St. Alban, and in 1785 several stone coffins were disinterred. Alban’s supposed shrine overlooks the Usk; from it you may see the summit of the Mynde at Caerleon, but an intervening bluff hides the ancient city.

Return via the top of Belmont Hill and follow the ridge road which drops down into Catsash.

The farmhouse at Catsash, opposite the duckpond is the old inn, dated 1604.

Here in coaching days, hung a sign showing a cat sitting on a branch of an ash tree. this was a pretty example of faulty translations for as Sir Joseph Bradney tells us, the original name was Cathonen, after a prince who ruled these parts. Villa Cathonen was a gift to the See of Llandaff in the Fifth Century, but by the Fifteenth Century it had become Cattesaishe and a century later Catche Ashe.

Throughout our land the inn and the church rub shoulders metaphorically. At Catsash the church adjoins the inn and, although it is now used as a barn, the decorated window in the east wall is still intact.

It seems that Catsash must have been administered by the Vicar of Langstone, whose church stands alongside the good road which you can see climbing the hill past Langstone Court.

Silures, Romans, Normans and Saxons have travelled along this ridgeway, reaching out westwards for trade or conquest.

From Catsash continue straight on through the hamlet of Llanbedr to join the A48 which will bring you to Penhow in about three miles.

Midway between Newport and Chepstow, on the left-hand side of the road, is a whitewashed farmhouse with outbuildings. it stands at the junction of the old coach road and the modern road, and almost opposite the lane to St Brides Netherwent.

This house was, until about 1868, the Rock and Fountain Inn, one of the most famous hostelries on the London Road.

To breathe the atmosphere of the old days at the inn I call on Mr Charles Dutfield, ages 82, who was born at the Rock and Fountain, and lived there until he retired 12 years ago from his post as a surveyor. Mr Dutfield lives at The Glen in St Brides, a beautiful gabled cottage draped with magnolia and wisteria, and the garden, on this calm, humid December morning, was fragrant with the scent of many violets.

I found Mr Dutfield in his greenhouse, surrounded by carnations and primulas - a lovely setting for a talk of cabbages and kings, of education ‘then and now’, of stage coaches and motorcars and of the Rock and Fountain.

The old inn, it seems, was named after the castle-crowned rocky hill of Penhow, and the fountain which gushes out into the meadow opposite. When the trade declines after coaching days, it ceased in 1868 (three years before the birth of Mr Dutfield), to be an inn.

Sixteen horses were always kept in readiness at the stable at the Rock. When the stage coach from Chepstow reached the Llanvaches pike the post-horn was sounded, whereupon the ostler at the Rock led out a change of four horses.

This was also done at a similar distance to the west when the Chepstow-bound coach was approaching.

The bar the the Rock and Fountain was rendered attractive by the pretty bow-window facing the road.

It was to this window, many years ago, that Mr Dutfield led me, saying “One of the small panes has writing cut into it which nobody has been able to read.” Standing on the window seat and lowering the upper sash window, I leaned out and read the following cut by a diamond on the outside of the pane:

Down in the valley come meet me tonight,

I’ll tell you your fortunes truly,

As ever ‘twas told by the new moon’s light,

To young maiden shining as newly,

But, for the world, let no one be nigh,

Lest haply the stars should deceive me,

These secrets between me and you and the sky,

Should go no farther believe me.

Outside the window was suspended a small bell, about eight inches high, which was rung to announce the imminent departure of the coach, when all passengers hastened out, for the coachmen prided themselves on their punctuality.

I was deeply interested to hear Mr Dutfield’s memories of the old postman who had to walk with the letters from Caerleon to Llanvair Discoed by way of Catsash, Llanbedr and the Rock.

He would then spend his time cobbling at Llanfair and walk back by the same route at night. it was impossible for him to call at all the farmsand cottages so he left the letters at convenient places.

This is an extract from Hando’s Gwent, Volume One, edited by Chris Barber.