Showing posts with label Norfolk. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Norfolk. Show all posts

Monday, 18 December 2017

Snakes, Scrolls & Anglo-Saxon Secrets

"Open weekend reveals secrets of historic church." The headline in the local paper was intriguing. Mum kept the cutting for me, and on my next visit to see her, on a sunny Norfolk autumn afternoon, we drove up a narrow, bumpy bridleway, just beyond the village of North Pickenham. 

The Church of St Mary's, at Houghton on the Hill, is hidden from view, and even when you arrive, it nestles shyly amid the trees.



Houghton on the Hill is mentioned in Domesday, and if the name Houghton has the same derivation as Houghton near West Rudham, then it means enclosure on the hill-spur [hoh (hill-spur) plus tun (enclosure, settlement or farm)].



The main reason for my visit was to see the murals, and they're hard to miss. As you walk through the door, you can see them, in all their - slightly faded - glory. These murals have not been precisely dated, but the general consensus is that they are pre-Conquest, and it's thought that they are the oldest of their type, certainly in England and possibly in Europe. There have been many scholarly articles published, examining the history and the symbolism of these paintings. This blog post is not about that, just about the experience of visiting this unique place and seeing these wonderful murals.



Alan, our guide, explained that they are what's known as a Doom Painting (depicting the Last Judgement.) He showed us the figures who are in Hell, looking up towards God, who has Jesus sitting on his knee. 

The notorious figures holding the serpents/scrolls have been the subject of much discussion. Alan says he is convinced that they are serpents, because of the shape of them. Comparison with the figure on the other side, who is in Hell, would seem to confirm this. The figure here is holding a plump, red, angry 'scroll', which does, admittedly, look very much like an untamed serpent.



My love of all aspects of Anglo-Saxon history has endured for nearly forty years. I studied it for my degree, I've continued to research it ever since, and this has resulted in the publication of three novels, contributions to two anthologies (one fiction, one non-fiction) and a commission to write a history of the ancient kingdom of Mercia. But never have I seen anything like these murals. To view them was a fabulous experience, and I marvelled at the fact that they have survived, and the circumstances which led to their discovery.

Bob Davey found the church back in the 1990s, derelict, and in need of restoration. In the course of that restoration, the murals were revealed.

The Anglo-Saxon images are the earliest paintings to have been revealed beneath the layers of plaster. But there is a fragment of a later painting, which contains words taken from Cranmer's Common Book of Prayer. This was produced during the reign of Edward VI, and demonstrates that for centuries, this was a working church. In all, there are five layers of paintings and the argument persists: should the later layers be completely erased in order to reveal the earlier ones?

On the north wall, the paintings depict the birth of Eve, and one can just make out the figure of Adam leaning against the tree of life.



Nearer the north door, (now blocked up) there was a depiction of Noah's Ark and apparently all around the lower portion of the walls, there was a strip of blue - a reference to the fact that the church was dedicated to the Virgin Mary.



Not everything inside the church was a joy to see. When Bob Davey stumbled across the ruined church, hidden by trees, covered with ivy and lacking its roof, he had to evict a group of Satanists before he could begin the restoration. No easy matter, when, as the local police told him, being a Satanist is not a crime. Alan showed us the damage done by this group (see the picture below.) There is also a swastika carved into the church wall, which must be left because, yes, it, too, is a part of the history of the building.



After years of painstaking restoration, the church is now safe, its future secured by the foundation of a trust. Various items have now been returned: a seventeenth-century chest, a prayer book, the font and the stoup bowl.

Alan took us outside for a tour round the building. There was once a round tower, and the existing porch was hit by a zeppelin bomb during WWI, resulting in a gaping hole which remained for eighty years. Lying in the shadow of the south wall is the spot where Robert de Neville's tomb was located. He was the lord of the manor in the thirteenth century, who apparently was executed for being found 'in criminal conversation' with a high-born lady.



Beyond the chancel, it was thought by some that the remains of a Roman baths were visible, but Alan thinks not. He showed us the extent of each generation of building, and the different roof lines.



The window on the north wall was purportedly stolen by GIs in WWII, and the replacement is a 'best guess', as no one knew what the original design looked like.

The replacement window -behind the grave stones
the window can also be seen in the top photo

Between the window and the now blocked up north door, there is a blocked up Anglo-Saxon window. 



Back inside, I photographed the Saxon window on the south wall, which has not been blocked up, but has been glazed. At the time, of course, it would not have had glass in it.



The church, which has never been de-consecrated, is Grade I listed. It is in the middle of nowhere now, but there was a village nearby. The church is close to Peddar's Way, the old Roman Road, and was on the pilgrimage route to Walsingham, (apparently Catherine of Aragon visited with her entourage.) Of the village, there is now no trace. Richard Muir's Lost Villages of Britain does not mention Houghton on the Hill, and there seems not to have been one specific reason for the disappearance of the village. I wondered about plague, or enclosure, but it seems as if the village simply shrank over time. 
"By 1603 the rector reported only fifteen communicants, that is, adults who took communion. In 1676 this had risen slightly to eighteen. In 1664 the hearth tax recorded seven individuals charged for fourteen hearths, seven of them in one household - presumably Houghton Farm, the only substantial dwelling in the village." (Friends of St Mary’s Trust pdf)
The church, still owned by the Church of England, is safe, but the trustees still work hard, and rely on donations to fund the ongoing restoration, plans for which include the uncovering of the paintings on the south wall. 



As we stood in that tranquil place on that quiet autumn afternoon, I contemplated how the church would have looked to its eleventh, maybe even tenth-century congregation. Paintings, in bright colours, covering all the interior walls, and depicting scenes from the Bible, must have been a truly awesome sight.

Links and further information: 
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[All photographs by and copyright of the author]

Thursday, 30 November 2017

Noises Off: Folklore & Ghostly Goings-On

What do Oliver Cromwell, Sunken Churches, Wolves, and Witches all have in common? Along with all manner of boggarts and beasties, they are all associated with folklore and ghost stories.

I recently had cause to research the tale about the supposed killing of the last wolf in England and thought that folklore, generally, would be a good topic for a blog post.

Well, yes and no. One book on my shelves is over 800 pages long, with about five or six tales or legends on each page!

I thought I'd narrow it down to my favourites, one related to each part of history, from pre-Roman times to the seventeenth century, all to do with people, rather than beasts. And all very noisy!

The Lost Warriors
Hockwold, in the East Anglian Fens, was a burial place for three separate hoards of pewter items dating from Roman times. They were crushed and dismantled, giving rise to speculation that they were deliberately buried as some kind of offering. 

They were discovered in the 1960s, but long before that time, the Hockwold Fens were said to be haunted by ancient warriors. Their battle cries could be heard, sounding loud across the fenland. Perhaps they were British warriors, Iceni maybe, fighting the Roman invaders?

Some of the Hockwold Pewter


The Shrieking Pits
Between 850 and 110o, iron workings between Aylmerton and West Runton Heath in Norfolk left depressions in the fields. Slag from the furnaces found their way into the walls of nearby Saxon Churches. Shrieks ring out in the dark night, near St John's Church, utterances of a ghostly woman who is searching among the hollows for the body of her baby.

Legend has it that her husband buried the child in one of the pits, as well as murdering his wife. She now wanders, searching, for she does not know which hollow contains her child. As she looks into each of the holes, she shrieks with despair as it reveals itself to be empty.

St John's Church, Aylmerton


Wild Edric
Sometimes it's not the spirits of dead people that inspire these tales. The Vita Haroldi, a glorified celebration of the life of Harold Godwineson, last English king of pre-Conquest England, suggests that Harold did not die at Hastings, and later sources suggest that he lived until he was over 150 years old. 

More fantastical yet, was Edric, a Shropshire man who did survive the Conquest, and fought William as a rebel. He, apparently, was still alive in the nineteenth century, living in the mines under the Shropshire hills. His noise was a knocking sound, which would tell the miners where the best lodes were. He would ride out to foretell war, and was seen riding with his wife, Lady Godda, just before the outbreak of the Crimean war.

Snailbeach, Shropshire - note the mine chimney. Photo Humphrey Bolton

Screams at Castle Rising
I've visited Castle Rising many times. I used to drive past it on my way to work. For a time, it was the 'home' of Isabella, wife of Edward II. Froissart, and fourteenth century chronicler, says that her son, Edward III, imprisoned her there, after the execution of her lover, Mortimer. 

It is said that she went mad from loneliness and that her screams could be heard as she wandered the battlements, lamenting her fate. In fact, she was not a prisoner, although she certainly lived there for periods, as it was one of her own properties, but she actually died in Hertford Castle. Her son allowed her £3,ooo, rising to £4,000 per year, so it's likely that far from wandering the Norman keep as a prisoner, she lived a comfortable life.

Castle Rising 


Footsteps at Husbands Bosworth
The ghost of a Protestant lady prowls the hall at Husbands Bosworth in Leicestershire and her footsteps can be heard loud and clear as she wanders, unable to settle. She suffers remorse for not allowing a Catholic priest to attend a dying servant. Elsewhere in the hall, a stain on the floor remains permanently damp, and it is allegedly there as a result of communion wine, or blood, being spilled when a priest escaped Cromwell's men. 

Whether this is a reference to Thomas Cromwell of the Reformation, or Oliver Cromwell who was responsible for the destruction of churches in the seventeenth century, is not clear. Our poor lady would have been more reluctant, one assumes, to summon a Catholic priest during the reign of the latter. But the former was known as Hammer of the Monks, so we cannot be sure who it was who would have taken punitive measures against her.

Bosworth Hall - photo Richard Williams

This is just a tiny sample of the tales that survive. They appeal to me because of their historical context, and because if I'm going to encounter a ghost, I'd like it to make some kind or warning sound first!

Further reading/bibliography:~
Froissart's Chronicle
Vita Haroldi
The Old Stories - Kevin Crossley-Holland
The Lore of the Land - Westwood & Simpson
Folklore of the Welsh Border - Jaqueline Simpson
Norfolk Ghosts & Legends - Polly Howat
Tales of Old Norfolk - Polly Howat
Norfolk - A Ghosthunter's Guide - Neil Storey
Folk Stories and Heroes of Wales, Vols I&II - John Owen Huws