Fact and Folklore Intertwined in Essex’s Darkest Woodland Night falls thick and heavy over Epping Forest. The ancient trees close ranks, their gnarled limbs creaking like gallows in the wind. Somewhere beyond the ridges of High Beech, a horse’s hooves echo faintly on the old coaching road. Locals say that if you linger long enough, you’ll see the rider’s shadowy cloak flaring, pistol raised, face hidden beneath a tricorn hat. Two centuries have passed since Dick Turpin’s body swung from York’s Knavesmire, yet his ghost still rides these woods. The Making of an Outlaw Richard Turpin was born in 1705…