Detective Chief Superintendent Pat Malloy of Dyfed Powys Police writes a thrilling and sympathetic account of an astonishing period in Welsh history that has been tainted in recent years by being the lazy sole historical subject in Welsh primary schools, the equivalent of Hitler and the Tudors in GCSE syllabuses. “Oh God not the bloody Rebecca Riots again.” Not that I knew anything much about it. I knew it had started at Efail Wen and assumed it was a romantic and rather colourful legend, rather like Robin Hood, Twm Sion Cati or Don Quixote tilting at windmills. The facts were that in the early 1840s the west Wales farmers including my own ancestors were living in abject poverty and the pressures of paying church tithes and turnpike toll house “farmers”, usually (of course) English and absent, who put up toll gates and bars on every available piece of badly maintained, rutted and potholed “road” - and extorted ridiculous amounts of money from those going about their business of scraping a living from poor land. The non-conformist bible-reading locals were pretty much compelled to fight back taking their inspiration from Genesis chapter 24, verse 60: ‘And they blessed Rebecca, and said unto her, “Thou art our sister; be thou the mother of thousands and millions, and let thy seed possess the gates of those which hate them.”’ So began a reign of terror for toll-house keepers, local vicars and sundry members of the gentry who had been seen to be profiting from unfair taxation. The characters on both sides of the law are wonderfully captured, from Rebeccas in their bewigged finery, frustrated farmers, devious lawyers, heroic old soldiers and intrepid journalists who conspired in the end through the setting up of a Royal Commission to bring some fairness to the poverty stricken peasant farmers. The Irish potato famine was soon to follow and its cause was the familiar lack of concern for the travails of honest and poor country folk. They really should teach this stuff in schools.