The Ring of Brodgar

The Ring of Brodgar in Orkney is one of the largest stone circles in Britain. It sits on a narrow peninsula between the two vast Lochs of Harray and Stenness, a balance point between land, sea and air. The waters, usually turbulent with the wind and reflecting the grey, scudding clouds which race from the nearby sea, eventually touch the hills which frame this panoramic scene, and reinforce the impression that this peninsula is the centre of Orkney’s landscape. It has been described as a natural amphitheatre, and it is easy to imagine dozens of people on the hilltops, looking down at this stone circle and watching rites whose effects would ripple out to touch them all.

The Ring is flanked by the nearby The Stones of Stenness to the south, possibly the oldest stone circle in Britain, and the Ring of Bookan to the north, a possible henge now all but destroyed. Its two entrances focus on these sites.

It has been suggested that the layout of the three monuments reflect the three stars of Orion’s Belt. It is a convincing match, and may explain why the Ring of Brodgar is slightly off-centre on the sloping hillside, but my feeling is too much effort is made to link sacred sites to the stars. Most seem to me to be orientated to and blended with the surrounding landscape, which enhances the idea that they reflect a spiritual microcosm of the land where rites could be conducted to influence that land.

The Brodgar stones originate from various sites across Orkney, creating the evocative image of a blending of communities and their spirits into a single monument in the heart of the land. The circle is 104m in diameter and comprised sixty stones, of which thirty six remain, surrounded by a six-metre wide ditch. It was built around 2500BC, shortly before the collapse of Orkney’s highly advanced Neolithic culture. It was perhaps a last attempt to save it, or a lasting memorial to its existence.

The Comet Stone, an outlier of the Ring of Brodgar. Two other broken stones lie nearby. Legend says the stone was a piper, turned to stone along with the dancing giants.

Like many stone circles, legend states the Ring of Brodgar was formed when a group of dancing giants were turned to stone after failing to notice the approaching sunrise. I wonder if these stories reflect their former use for shamanic or ritual dances.

The two stone circles were known to locals as the Temples of the Sun and the Moon, and betrothed couples once prayed inside them to Woden to seal their relationship. This is likely a relic of Orkney’s Nordic heritage, and continued almost to living memory.

The Ring of Brodgar was built to guide the Orkney people’s lives. People have long memories. Five thousand years later, that spirit still survives.

Edgehill Battlefield

The annual re-enactment of the battle of Edgehill.

Relations between King Charles I and his parliament had fractured. In August 1642, the King raised his standard and civil war began. The first major battle took place at Edgehill in Warwickshire on 23^rd October, each side comprising 15,000 foot soldiers and cavalry armed with muskets, pikes and cannons.

The battle began at 3 o’clock. The royal army advanced and a cavalry charge smashed the parliamentary cavalry, but the parliament’s foot soldiers held firm, exhorted by their pastors to fight for God’s right, and the battle descended into confusion and slaughter until nightfall, when ammunition and powder ran out and darkness made fighting impossible.

The next day, both armies withdrew. Neither side had won a conclusive victory, and both had suffered terrible losses. Over 1500 dead men were scattered across the battlefield; many more were injured or maimed.

The result was the war dragged on for several years, ravaging the English countryside and causing intolerable hardship for soldiers and civilians alike, until the king was finally defeated and executed.

Little can be seen of the famous battlefield today. Time and nature have consigned the slaughter to a long-obscured memory. But the unprecedented battle lingers in the local landscape, perhaps in more than one way.

The first account of apparitions re-enacting the battle appeared in January 1643. “Strange and portentous apparitions of two jarring and contrary armies… heard by shepherds and countrymen and travellers, first the sound of drums afar off, then the noise of soldiers giving their last groans. Then appeared in the air the incorporeal soldiers that made those clamours, ensigns displayed, drums beating, muskets going off, horses neighing… after three hours’ fight the army carrying the king’s colours appeared to fly, the other remaining masters of the field.”

Subsequent visitors to the battlefield identified among the apparitions key noblemen who had died in the battle including Sir Edmund Verney, the king’s standard bearer.

The apparitions eventually ceased, but still appear on occasion, most commonly the anniversary of the battle. And the battle is still annually re-enacted by the Sealed Knot.

 

Red Road in Kineton, said to have run red with blood after the slaughter 400 years ago.

The Stones of Stenness

The Stones of Stenness. The curiously sloping stones result from the natural fracture lines in the rock. The popular idea that they recreate the sloping peaks of Hoy in the distance, I feel is coincidence.

This stone circle in Orkney, built around 3100BC, is possibly the oldest in Britain. It is at the heart of a vast and complex ritual site on the Brodgar peninsula which would eventually comprise two stone circles, a series of earthen mounds and some of the most elaborate stone buildings of Neolithic Europe.

The circle once comprised twelve stones, of which four remain, the tallest nearly six metres in height. They were erected inside a circular ditch and bank which has now almost entirely vanished. The ditch was once two metres deep and seven metres wide, a vast construction effort considering it was cut through bedrock using only stone and antler tools.

The site is on a low-lying peninsula between the two huge lochs of mainland Orkney, the Lochs of Stenness and Harray. Beyond the lochs, hills rise in the distance and the dramatic peaks of the island of Hoy lie to the south.

The entrance faces due north, across the Loch of Harray and towards the distant hills. An interesting observation is that the surrounding hills and valleys from this point are almost symmetrical. This apparent balance may be the reason for the circle’s location.

The circle was used for feasting and hearth stones still survive in the centre. Pottery and animal bones have been excavated. Perhaps it was a gathering place, a microcosm of land surrounded by water, reflecting every island in Orkney and also perhaps the world in general and the spiritual world. A world surrounded by water which must be crossed to reach the spiritual world is a recurring theme in myths worldwide. That the stones seem to have been brought from various places in Orkney supports this notion.

The circle also contained other stone features. These were once presumed to be altar stones for human sacrifice and re-erected as such, and now their original arrangement is long lost. Other wooden features also stood on the site, perhaps much older than the stone circle itself. It is a common occurrence across Britain for wooden structures, perhaps temples or ‘spirit-houses’, to be later memorialised in stone.

The Stones retained their importance long after the Neolithic period ended. Burial mounds were arranged around the stones and the surrounding area into the Bronze Age, and into the 19^th century local couples would pray to Odin – perhaps a throwback to Orkney’s Nordic heritage – inside the stones, now locally known as the Temple of the Moon, for a successful marriage. And today, they form part of a World Heritage Site which attracts visitors from across the world.

The Simonside Hills

The Simonside hills near Rothbury in Northumberland are home to some of the most sinister elemental beings I’ve come across. The duergars are dwarfish, earth-like beings which have a taste for human flesh and delight in leading people to an unpleasant death. The local shepherds respected and avoided them. Outsiders often blundered into their presence.

Two Newcastle gentlemen went shooting in the hills and came across a small, muscular man in clothing the colour of dried bracken. The rather unfriendly man invited them for a meal. The men refused and hurried back to Rothbury. Their landlord told them they’d had a very lucky escape.

A shepherd, recently moved to the area, saw a light in a hillside cottage when faced with a cold night under the stars. Nobody was at home but he seated himself by the fire until the owner returned. When a brown-clad dwarf entered, the shepherd realised he was in the home of a duergar. The duergar merely sat and watched him, and the shepherd decided to wait until dawn when he hoped he could make a run for it. He sat through the night, not daring to move or sleep, the duergar’s eyes on him throughout, until at sunrise dwarf and house vanished. Just inches from his feet was now a hundred-foot sheer precipice.

An educated visitor decided to prove the duergars were mere superstition. He went up the hillside one night and soon saw a lantern-light. He called out and the light went out. He heard scurrying coming towards him. He struck one of the figures, assuming it to be locals playing a trick on him, and a brown-clad dwarf leapt from the heather. The dwarf pulled his club and the man fled. He raced down the hillside, chased by dozens of the dwarfs, and made it back to Rothbury unharmed. He never ventured into the hills again.

I hadn’t heard these stories when I walked through Simonside. That made the place seem even more eerie, with hindsight. I’ve never been anywhere so unsettling. I’m used to walking through wild and lonely places on my own, and generally never get nervous. Here, walking through dense woodland, thick heather and bracken, across treacherously rocky ground which threatened to twist an ankle on every step, I found myself shrinking down, trying to walk as silently as possible, constantly looking around for the watching eyes I was sure I could feel. I eventually turned back, fighting the urge to run, and was very glad to reach the road in the valley.

Perhaps the duergars are still there, watching and waiting. Perhaps there is something about the spirit of this place which triggers terror and the sense of being watched. It’s possible: certain resonant frequencies caused by rock and underground water can have this effect, something exploited by the builders of many megalithic monuments. Whatever’s going on here, it’s certainly creepy. Visit at your own risk.

This inspired a short story, The Watchers in the Hills, which you can read for free here