#Research: Medieval Marmion Tower

The Marmion Tower

Following on from the last post on medieval Markenfield Hall with its Tudor gatehouse, this time I’m a few miles north to focus on an earlier gatehouse, the enigma that is the Marmion Tower in West Tanfield, Ripon.

Built and remodelled between 1350 and 1400, it stands tight between the drop to the River Ure and the wall of the village's church of St Nicholas, which may, or may not, explain why the barrel-vaulted entrance passage is off-set.

Not substantial in footprint, it was substantial in comfort, having three floors, at least two garderobes built into its riverside walls, three fireplaces, and an oriel window. Although there were certainly gates, and it is crenellated – permission had to be sought from the Crown – there is no provision for either a portcullis or arrow slits.

I’m not alone in finding this curious, considering the violence of the time. Like Markenfield Hall, it lies on the north-south road from Scotland, at a point where the Ure was crossed by ferry, now a bridge carrying the A6108.

Fireplace and cupboard, ground floor porter/guard's chamber

Was it built as a free-standing tower ‘house’, perhaps a dowager house with an enclosed courtyard beyond, specifically to be close to the church? Or was it built to be “of worth” – ie, not timbered – for a hall beyond, which was not, or became not, the owner’s main residence?

Or, over the intervening years since the 1066 Norman invasion, were there two residences? Certainly something was built with commanding views on a rocky spur  further along the bending River Ure, but that’s over a mile away. A motte and bailey ‘castle’ erected, as so many were, immediately after the Harrying of the North? Mmm.

Left: rise to the 1st floor oriel window, line of 2nd storey flooring plus window

Right: view from oriel window showing chantry house of priest plus modern bridge

Personally, I go for the two residences theory. When John Leyland, the noted 16th century antiquarian, passed through on business for King Henry VIII, he was not impressed to find “a meane manor place” with a towered gateway and a house of squared stone. However the cossetted Leyland felt about the state of the manor dwellings, a look inside the church at the effigies of its former owners left me in no doubt as to the worth of the families who once resided there.

Sir John Marmion and his wife Lady Elizabeth

While other chest tombs of the families are carved in eroding stone, this tomb, carved in alabaster, carries the effigy of John Marmion who, in 1387, died in Spain fighting for his overlord, John of Gaunt third son of King Edward III. It is, therefore, highly unlikely that his body resides within.

Beside him is his wife, Lady Elizabeth, who died in 1400. In the foreground and behind their heads can be glimpsed parts of the decorated wrought iron "hearse" of unknown date, which carries thick candles at its four corners.

As is usual in churches, there was neither the room nor the natural light to take full photographs, but it is from the spectacularly detailed carving that writers, and historians, gain much information of the period.

While Elizabeth's head rests on a cushion supported by angelic cherubs, John Marmion's rests on his ornately feathered tilting (jousting) helm, carved out inside to look exactly as it had when he wore it in life. Note the interlocking shoulder sections of his plate armour and the tactile nature of his mail coif. Note, too, that both hands have been hacked off, while his wife's remain in prayer. Probably he was holding his - his - sword down the length of his body and it was subsequently robbed. Around his neck is carved the collar of the Lancastrian house, a decoration instituted by King Henry IV.

This sort of attention to fine detail, and there is far more than I can show here, does not come cheap. So what happened to his, their, equally opulent dwelling?

It seems that no documented explanation exists, at least that I've come across. If Leland's assertion in the 16th century was that the property/ies was "a meane manor place", then in all probability it was being allowed, for whatever reason, to fall into wrack and ruin. According to local tradition its usable stone was carried off to build other great houses in the area. It wasn't unknown. Thankfully the gatehouse was left where it stood, or people like me would never have heard of the Marmions, or be intrigued by the enigma of the Marmion Tower.


Note:  Click on the images to bring up a larger view. All photos (c) Linda Acaster.

#Research: Thetford Warren Lodge

Ruins of Thetford Warren Lodge

Four miles south of the Neolithic flint mines of Grime’s Graves, lies another open area in Thetford Forest, this time of sandy heathland. It is the last remaining shred of a once vast medieval Warren. At one end stands the ruins of Thetford Warren Lodge, built around 1400 on the orders of Thetford Priory which owned the Warren.

Rabbits, or coneys as they were known, are not native to the British Isles. The first influx came with the Romans but didn’t seem to make much impression on the landscape. The second influx followed the Norman conquest in 1066.

Coney meat was regarded as a delicacy by the Normans, while its fur trimmed the finest clothing. The coneys were farmed in warrens on what would now be termed an industrial scale, and only lords of manors, and religious houses, could own one.

The surrounding forest is early 20th century; at the time all the land would have been open heath. It has been estimated that this one warren was bigger than modern Thetford (11 sq miles). In the vicinity were over 25 warrens. Each would have had a fortified lodge. There were no villages or hamlets in this area, then or now.

Thetford Warren Lodge, built of flint as all stone buildings in the region were, even castle ramparts, stood like a mini castle itself, with walls up to three feet thick, small windows on all sides, and a fortified ground floor doorway leading to its undercroft store where pelts and doubtless meat, would be worked and stored. 

L: ground floor inner view; doorway to spiral staircase bottom left beyond the modern grille.
R: substantial brick-faced fire-back in what would have been the living quarters.

Connected by an inner spiral staircase the Warrener and his family (and men?) lived on the upper floor in what would have been considered good quarters for the time: note the large brick-faced fireplace. However, like a castle keep, it was meant to act as a refuge – against gangs of armed poachers. Cut off from normal village life, it must have been a harsh and lonely existence, especially for the women of the household.

Over the centuries coneys adapted to the wild, becoming the ubiquitous “bunny”, and in 1880 the animal lost its protected status under the Ground Game Act. Yet the industry of farming them continued into the 1920s when gradually the land was purchased for much-needed timber production following World War 1. Thetford Forest is now the largest lowland forest of mixed pines in Britain.

NB: Click on the images to bring up a larger view. All photos (c) Linda Acaster.

#Research: Neolithic Grime's Graves Flint Mines

Hubby on his way down

We have been away on holiday, though holiday seems a misnomer where we’re concerned. Hard hat and down into a Neolithic flint mine, anyone? 

Grime's Graves, in the county of Norfolk, was given its name during the Anglo-Saxon period of the so-called Dark Ages. In this case it was the Angle period, when the peoples from what is now southern Denmark and northern Germany migrated to the area and created the Kingdom of East Anglia. 1500 years on, the region containing the counties of Norfolk and Suffolk is still loosely known as East Anglia, and Grim’s Graben – “the diggings of Grim” (a euphemism for their main god, Woden; Norse Odin) became Grime’s Graves.

Lumps and bumps at ground level don't do justice to the vast area

The place is currently overseen by English Heritage, and it is on its website the best image of the area can be viewed – HERE – unless you happen to have a camera-drone handy. 

Even seeing such a photograph didn’t prepare me for driving out of the Thetford woodland and along the designated chalk track to park amid what can only be described as a green moonscape of gently waving grasses. It’s just… odd.

The delves, some over 10 metres (30 feet) across, are the visible remains of 433 vertical shafts hemmed almost shoulder to shoulder, though it is believed others are buried beneath obscuring sandy soil nearby.

All have been in-filled: by the original diggers, by later Neolithic, Bronze, and Iron Age peoples, or by Nature. To give an idea of the time-line, the first diggings - using red deer antler picks, they've been found in the middens - were probably started as the groundwork was being laid for Stonehenge in Wiltshire.

It is all a bit basic on-site. Chemical toilets only are available near the gate because there is a ban on any sort of non-archaeological excavation, no matter how shallow. The visitor centre is a self-contained wooden structure "sitting" on the land so as to do minimum damage. But its exhibition is interesting, the staff friendly and informative, and we eventually made our way across the beaten-grass path to what amounts to a small metal portacabin suspended in the mouth of “Pit 1”.

The duty-man who gave us the Health & Safety talk trained as an experimental archaeologist, and the small space displays everything from lime-bast fibres and rope, to flint arrowheads, scrapers, knives, a flint-bladed sickle, and a surprisingly light axe big enough to fell a substantial tree.

L: repro flint axe detail, with 3 knapped, unpolished, spare flint heads / R: repro flint knife with antler handle and sheath

Hard hats on tight, we stepped onto the ladder which disappeared through a trapdoor and down some 9 metres (30 feet) to the excavated floor level. We were lucky; an electrician was rigging up new lights in the radiating chalk galleries and the safety grilles had been removed. We’d been warned only to stick our heads and shoulders inside the gallery openings as turning around in a 1 metre high gallery could prove problematic. Merely backing out proved problematic, and I was grateful for the hard hat on more than one occasion.

L: Husband crouching in front of a gallery entrance, with a second covered by a grille to show size. 

Rubber matting is laid on the excavated floor to help save it from modern foot-fall erosion. 

R: Inside a chalk gallery; bear in mind the size shown in the left image

The galleries, there are six main ones, are up to 15 metres (49 feet) long, twisting, turning and intersecting as the seams of flint were followed. The sections of chalk waste, and the flint nodules, were prised free with antler picks and raised in baskets to the surface to be worked on.

The mine was wondrous to behold, to crouch in the small spaces with bright modern lighting reflecting from the white chalk, and wonder just what those far off ancestors used to light their work. And how many times a rockfall snuffed out a life.

NB: Click on the images to bring up a larger view. All photos (c) Linda Acaster.

Research: Tomb Chests and Hanging Helms

Church of St Bartholomew, Aldbrough

The moral of this post is never underestimate a small medieval church in a small pre-Doomsday village.

My husband is adding to the genealogy of his family line and, in search of the later more law-abiding contingent, he is keen to visit churches in the locality during open days when parish records, often dating back to the 1700s or earlier, are available to view.

Just such took us to the village of Aldbrough, population currently about 1,000, in the East Riding of Yorkshire, and into the 14th century church of St Bartholomew.

The church stands on a circular mound, thus immediately giving an inkling, not only of an earlier building or succession of buildings, but of a pre-Christian meeting place. I knew there was what some believe to be a Viking-age sundial, but I wasn't prepared to meet Sir John de Melsa, the "Giant of Bewick", who fought alongside Edward, the Black Prince, at the Battle of Crécy (Cressey) in 1346, part of the Hundred Years' War with France.

His effigy, in full armour including chain mail, measures six and a half feet in length. He would probably have been clutching a, if not his, sword down the length of his body. Alas, over the centuries he has also lost his feet, resting on the lion. Note the righthand pic which shows what is hanging above his chest tomb.

This is a copy of the bascinet upon which Sir John's effigy rests its head, except it's not quite. It is the copy of what was left of the original bascinet which hung above his tomb until in 1989 leave was granted by the Diocese of York for it to be sold to the Royal Armouries. It now resides in the Tower of London. Evidently these complete, or almost complete, effigies with a knight's accoutrements are extremely rare - as in there might only be one other in the country with a helm dating from the period.

It is surprising that it survived at all. The north aisle in which this monument stands, originally Saint Mary's Chapel, was used as a school in the early 19th century. According to the church's information leaflet the helm - the original helm - was used as a coal scuttle, doubtless by the same miscreants who carved their names in the lion, though they were hardly the first if that 1673, bottom right, is to be taken at face value.

Methinks I need to delve into the life and times of Sir John de Melsa, Governor of York 1292-96, and the Lords of Bewick. For a start, Melsa is Meaux situated between Aldbrough and Beverley, where a Cistercian abbey had been founded in 1151. So why did he direct that he should be buried in the small village church of Aldbrough? Is there ever enough hours in the day?

The same goes for the Viking-age "sundial" now incorporated into the wall of the south aisle, the image of which Blogger refuses to upload. I shall take that as a sign and give it a post of its own in the future.

Note: All images are copyright: (c) Linda Acaster 2018. Clicking on each will (should) provide a larger view.

Research: Social Media for Writers

It's not just novels which need researching; so does back-end stuff like genre, publishers, agents, and... social media. Unless you're under twenty-five you weren't born with an inherent understanding of the technology. It has to be learned.

My usual route is Google > blogposts > ebooks > forums, because living out in the "northern" sticks might offer the luxury of dark skies and low traffic flow, but it also means face-to-face workshop  opportunities for writers are few and far between. Like non-existent.

That all changed when Anita Chapman from Neetsmarketing was persuaded up to sunny York to lead ten very willing participants through six intense hours of Social Media For Writers. Twitter (+ Tweetdeck / Hootsuite), FaceBook, Instagram and Blogging were covered in depth; Pinterest discussed.

So you know how to use these platforms? I thought I had a reasonable grasp, but it seems not so much. I made copious notes, tried various options on my laptop, and enthusiastically siezed handouts and worksheets. Anita is very open with her how-to and why-to information, and we each left with an A4 sheet of useful posts to read on her Neetsmarketing blog, the current handily being 11 Ways to Promote a Blog Post. 

Was it worth the day and the two hours each way travelling? Absolutely. It was akin to a sharp machete clearing a path through a jungle. More than that, it gave me the belief in myself that I could not only do this, but do it well. Now to put that into practice!

Research: Strong Men, Food Animals and Terracotta Warriors

Fiction writers have a tendency to spend long hours creating, often to the detriment of replenishing their creative well. I particularly enjoy going off-topic. It gives pause for a little perspective on the work-in-progress and I never know what interesting snippets of info might spark an idea.

The reason I was in Chester to view its Roman artefacts (see posts one and two) was to visit nearby Liverpool to take in an exhibition at the city’s World Museum: “China’s First Emperor and the Terracotta Warriors”.

Terracotta general

Facsimile showing original colouring

Back in the mists of time, or 475-221 BC, the seven major states/kingdoms of China participated in hostilities on such a scale that the period is known as the Warring States Era. Born into one of these, the Qin state, was Zhao Zheng who, at thirteen years of age, ascended to its throne. Twenty-five years and many battles later, he was announced as Qin Shi Huang – First Emperor of Qin – and of a united China which he set about extending.

His reign oversaw bureaucratic standardisation on a massive scale: currency, weights & measures, the Chinese script to aid written communication, axle lengths to aid the transport system;  new roads and canals were built, and various western boundaries were amalgamated into what is now known as the Great Wall of China.

Modern replica of excavated half-size chariot to accompany the Emperor

He also looked to the future, and like many who come to believe their own hype, was determined to either discover the elixir of life and thus live and rule forever or, as the next best thing, set himself up for resurrection in similar style. The elixir seemed to involve jade and mercury, which probably helped end his life aged 49. As to his resurrection, there were texts written after his death, rumours about the siting of his tomb, broken terracotta artefacts dismissed as being from close generations. Then in 1974, farmers digging a well… So began proper archaeological excavations, the uncovering of the first Terracotta Warriors and a reassessing of archaeological expectations.

In the same way the circles of raised stones at Britain’s Stonehenge is only a small part of its ritual landscape, so the located tomb of Qin Shi Huang is only a small part (about the size of a football pitch) of the necropolis designed to continue his luxurious life after death, believed to cover 38 square miles.

Detail of bronze cauldron (212kg) used by strongmen in acrobatic feats

Stable boy

As well as the army of over 8,000, plus chariots and cavalry, there is stabling and stable boys – all in terracotta, most life-size. There are bureaucrats, service workers, musicians, acrobats and strongmen, animals intended to feed them all, and animals for pleasure gardens, all in beautifully crafted and painted terracotta.

Alas, as soon as excavations began, problems arose. Within minutes of being exposed to the air, painted surfaces began to curl and flake, which is why the artefacts are plain, or bear only faint glimpses of original bright colours.

However, it has also stayed the hand of over-exuberant archaeologists for fear of destroying as much as is revealed. The tomb of Qin Shi Huang remains intact, though probes have revealed chemical readings for mercury off the scale. Perhaps later written texts were not so far from the mark.

A selection of animals for the pot

The exhibition in Liverpool displays eight excavated warriors, two replica half-size chariots  in bronze (the originals inlaid with silver), and 160 other artefacts, which I found the most fascinating. Who would have thought such a big thing would have been made of heating wine? Or the fine detail of a bronze cauldron weighing 212kg (467lbs) used by strongmen in an acrobatic performance? Or that one man’s megalomania would provide such insight into the craftsmanship and organisational skills of ordinary people 200+ years before our own current calendar began?


This is the sort of stuff writers get out from off-topic research. It certainly replenishes the creative well.


The exhibition “China’s First Emperor and the Terracotta Warriors” continues at the World Museum, Liverpool, until 28 October 2018. The museum’s own collections are well worth a visit, too, as are all the museums and galleries close by.

Click images to resize.

All images are the author’s own, (c) Linda Acaster.

#Writing Research: Using Weather Crises For Insight

If you've been living in the United Kingdom this past week you can't have missed the unseasonally severe weather conditions, dubbed The Beast From The East because the originating air currents are from Russian Siberia. During the last couple of days Storm Emma, originating offshore of Portugal, has streamed north to interact with it. It's been a "fun" time of blizzards, gale-force winds whipping lying snow into a whiteout, people trapped inside their vehicles, airports closed, power outages, the sea freezing...

But as the week progressed, the media quit its ever-escalating shrieks of horror and instead concentrated on the good deeds ordinary people did for one another: hospital staff walking miles to be on-shift, farmers working 12 hours straight using their field equipment to dig vehicles out of snowdrifts and open impassable rural roads, 4x4 drivers ferrying medical staff and meals-on-wheels to vulnerable people, members of an orchestra stranded in a hotel finding a wedding party, also stranded, and offering to play at their wedding. As the snippets came in it provided a wealth of "what if...?" scenarios for fiction writers.

One of the BBC's environmental TV programmes - Winter Watch - posed the question "How do the current conditions stack against those of the Big Freeze of 1963?", and showed a grainy black & white programme from the period. Having found it on YouTube I offer it above. It makes fascinating watching, its unintentional detail providing a mine of information for a writer. For those too young to remember, it was a time of very few homes with central heating, just a coal fire in a single room, no double-glazing, and everyone seemed to smoke.

The storms, though, were a mirror of today, starting with high winds from the far east of Europe then being met by a storm from the south. However, The Beast From The East we are promised will have passed by Monday; the Big Freeze of 1963 lasted two months.

Enjoy!

Hand-Held Historical Research: #Viking Jorvik

Spear, long axe and seax (long knife), with shield behind.

Spring might not quite be with us here in the northern hemisphere, but in the Acaster household mid February starts the annual series of historical research field trips, not so much in a field – I could have done if I’d wanted – but in York’s city centre streets. Welcome to the trading empire of Viking Jorvik.

A little background: York began life in AD71 as a fortress built by invading Romans, and the rectangle of medieval walls still standing used the fortress walls as foundations, which gives a somewhat breath-taking notion of how large the fortress was. A civil settlement sprung up facing it across the river, to be known as Eboracum. I used this research and more for The Bull At The Gate, Book 2 of the Torc of Moonlight trilogy.

As the Roman legions left early in the 5th century the Saxons were arriving on British shores, and to a far lesser extent took over the fortress area and settlement, calling it Eoforwic. By the late 8th century “Northmen” were raiding the land using their state-of-the-art transports, langskips, and by 866/7 what became known as The Great Heathen Army had taken the settlement by sword-storm as it annexed the northern portion of the country. Ideally sited on a set of navigable rivers emptying into the North Sea for a crossing to Scandinavian lands, Jórvik, as the settlement was renamed, became the capital of the Dane Law. It remained under Norse rule for 100 years, re-blossoming into a trading hub as it had under the Saxons, this time stretching from Iceland to Russia to Byzantium and Ireland.

More weaponry for sale than can be imagined.

Getting the forge up to temperature to make arrowheads

All this was mere dry academic history until in the 1970s a major redevelopment of Coppergate, an area close to the river, re-wrote it. Viking Age streets full of houses were discovered in the silt, and 40,000 artefacts were lifted from the ground. The shopping centre redevelopment went ahead, leaving a somewhat unassuming small shopfront to announce The Jorvik Centre and act as a portal to an animated reconstruction of the old Norse dwellings in situ, complete with sounds and smells, deep below modern footfall. Since it opened in 1984 it has welcomed over 20 million visitors.

Along with the opening of the Centre came the Jorvik Festival, relying heavily on the participation of re-enactors. This has grown substantially over the years, now covering a week of events, with traders and participants coming from across Scandinavia and Europe, and North America by the sound of accents overheard, as well as talks, lectures, feasting and a battle. There’s always a battle; we are talking Vikings.

It is an opportunity to lift historically accurate weaponry and clothing for weight, try out skills, and discuss manufacturing techniques with people who actually make these items. So I could be found discussing the relative merits of various types of arrowheads, who in their society would be able to afford seal-skin ropes and whether ropes made from lime-bast would be as good aboard a longship – sorry, langskip – trying out a hand-quern, watching craftsman work with wood and iron, spinning with a distaff, and taking a lesson in nålebinding which looks halfway between crocheting and knitting. 

Have hand-axe, can split & plane wood

A writer never knows when these things might come in handy.

Priming The Creative Well

This past week we’ve been in need of a sewing machine. I own two: my own 1960s Singer electric and my Granny’s Singer hand-cranked complete with beautiful Sphinx decals. Neither work. I went on the Net in search of a modern replacement, read various reviews, and stalled. I wanted something that would continue to work for years and not cost me half a mortgage.

By accident I also came across a DIY “refurbish a vintage Singer” video. It led me to checking the serial number of my Granny’s machine, and discovering that it couldn’t have been my Granny’s, at least not hers from new. It isn’t the 1920s-30s model I’d always supposed, but a January-June 1908 Singer 27, complete with original “coffin” lid.

YouTube is a wonderful invention. Two half days and the machine has been cleaned, oiled, and the stitch tension balanced between the top thread and long-bobbin under-thread, and from sounding like a WW2 bomber with bits falling off it runs quieter than I recall my electric doing. It left me staggered at the workmanship which, in 1908, produced a machine that not only offered stitches of differing lengths able to be worked on material as thin as fine lace and thicker than gaberdine, but also a host of attachments that would make a modern sewing machine blush. And I, with no engineering experience, could bring it back into use with no more than a tiny screwdriver from a set gifted in a Christmas cracker and a small amount of machine oil.

So what has this to do with writing? Here’s a Tweet I use alongside the hashtag #WritingTip

Everybody walks past a thousand story ideas every day. Good writers see five or six of them. Most people don’t see any - Orson Scott Card

In 1908, between January and June, 250,000 of these machines were manufactured. It was the first batch of true mass production for Singer. That meant a factory, not a small outbuilding. It meant training people; it meant hand-assembly; it meant selling an expensive machine destined for use by a woman that would free her from laborious hand-stitching and give her the wherewithal to provide an income for herself and her family.

How many story ideas can you see in that? How many story ideas have you hurried past today?

#Heritage Weekend - The Great and the Not So Good

Uncovered late medieval timbers at the Guildhall, Beverley

Earlier this month Heritage Weekend marked the opening of mostly hidden historical gems. This was the first year I was either in the country or I was fit enough to take advantage – and boy, did I take advantage.

Beverley is an ancient market town 20 miles from where I now live, and my first stop was its Guildhall. Although a rather daunting columned facade had been added to the original building in 1832, it was the 14th/15th century uncovered timbers I wanted to see, and the 18th century courtroom, now much used by movie and television companies for historical productions.

18th century courtroom

"Elizabeth" in Workhouse apparel shredding hemp fibres

It was there I came across a woman called “Elizabeth” from 1881. She had sought shelter in the local Workhouse (the old Beverley hospital) when she became unable to do heavy duties in service due to chronic lower back pain and was turned out onto the street. In the Workhouse she had been set to heavy work in the laundry and was refusing to comply. Instead, she had been set the mind-numbing and finger-splitting task of separating hemp strands from old rope for as long as there was light to see by.

One of the ways of funding the Workhouse was to take in old rope from sailing ships and sell the separated hemp strands to rope-makers to be recycled into new rope, hence the British term “money for old rope”. She was very vocal, angry at the situation women like her – she was at pains to tell me she could read and write – could find themselves in due to infirmity. Though she added, rather wistfully, that at least her current batch of rope lengths had not been tarred. Re-enactors like “Elizabeth” make the details of history live, and as a novelist I’m always very grateful for their expertise.

Next it was down the cobbled High Street and into The Monk’s Walk pub. Passing this ale house occasionally on my way to the Minster I’d always accepted from its facade that it was a Georgian establishment. However, it turns out that it is older than the Minster’s current nave. I was eager to join one of the tours to view 13th century wall timbers housing not wattle & daub or even lathe & horsehair, but 14th century over-fired bricks. And no, I hadn’t known that Beverley had been a centre of early brick-making. The only reason the wall survives is because it is supported by a genuine Georgian house next door. It leans (in all directions!) due to it being built before angled side-strutting was introduced to aid stability – see the picture above of the 14/15th century timbers of the uncovered wall in the Guildhall.

C12th timbers and C14th bricks. Note the lean >>>

Back in the day, medieval of course, the front part had been a grain warehouse, probably working with the then monastery at the end of the street, hence its entrance is down a passage, not directly off the cobbles. It’s not the only pub in Beverley laid out this way. The narrow width of its rooms and very low ceiling are testament to the building’s age, and while its dining area has had the original upper flooring removed most of its ceiling beams remain in place, allowing a view to the gable-end and roofing timbers. A mean pint can be supped there, too.

The cleared nave of Beverley Minster

From there it was a very short hop down to Beverley Minster, dating from 721AD when it was set up, probably as a very small, wooden monastic house, by a man who later became known as Saint John of Beverley. The current building, from the 13th century, is one of the largest parish churches in the UK, larger than a third of all its cathedrals.

It is open every day, so why was it included in the Heritage Weekend?  Because its entire nave was to be cleared to give it the air, minus bright paintings, of a true medieval church. None of the Minster’s employees and volunteers I spoke with had ever seen it without either pews or chairs, and it truly was a breath-taking sight. I immediately tagged onto a talk being given about the Minster’s ‘green men’, of which there are lots among the heights, as well as a single "green woman", each pointed out with the aid of a laser-light pen.


So ended Day 1. Day 2, in Hornsea, proved equally eye-opening, though much further back, and further forwards, in history.

The September Heritage Weekend is an annual event up and down the country. See what’s available to view close to you and make a note on your calendar for 2017. You'll find it a fascinating experience.

Research: The Faroe Islands - Mountains, Fjords & Vikings

Northwest of Scotland, halfway to Iceland, lie the Faroe Islands, the most northerly destination of our 'Northern Isles' trip. Whereas the landscape of the Orkney Isles undulates along the horizon, the Faroes sweep up from the Atlantic Ocean as if a verdant green beast. Natural harbours are at a premium.

Parliament Point - Tinganes - where the Norse held their first 'Thing'.

Eighteen islands make up the archipelago, with under half the country's population of 48,000 living in and around the bay of its capital, Tórshavn. The extensive modern harbour was busy with shipping when we berthed, not only cargo ships and fast inter-island ferries, but with six- and eight-oar rowing boats practising for the country's gala day. Rowing is the national sport, and the clinker-built boats are direct descendants of the Viking ships that brought the islands' influx of Norse colonists from the 9th century onwards.

Extensive, and still occupied, 'Old Tórshavn'

Protruding into the harbour is the Tinganes peninsular, the site of the Norse 'Thing' (various spellings) and it is still known as Parliament Point. It continued to be the centre for government and trade, and the current red-painted buildings with sod-roofs for insulation date from the 16th and 17th centuries. A suprising number of modern buildings use the same roofing material. I found the area very reminiscent of the Bryggen in Bergen, Norway.

It was the Norse connection I was particularly interested in. As can Icelanders, the Faroese can read medieval documents written in Old Norse, and each other's written language, though pronunciation has changed so much over the centuries that verbal communication can be more problematic. 

Turf covering the stone foundation walls of a Viking age house & byre

We took in an excursion to Kvivik where, in 1942, an excavation had revealed the foundations of a Norse dwelling 21 metres (69ft) in length with a 7 metre hearth, and its 12 stall byre.

I could understand why the place had been chosen by its Norse settlers. Faroe is made of basalt lava with no fresh water springs, and down from the heights a wide stream still runs beside the site. The shallow sandy beach just over the modern wall is ideal for pulling up ships, and thick pasture rises up the mountain behind the village in a gentle crescent, ideal for grazing stock animals and small-scale farming. Artefacts unearthed included loom weights and spindle whorls, fishing weights, and children's toys of horses and boats.

Our local guide, Regina, explained that the modern Faroese are renown for having 2.5 children, 3 sheep, 1 border collie dog, and a boat. Perhaps only the technology has changed.

Other posts in this series:
Orkney 1: Vast Skies & Standing Stones
Orkney 2: Skara Brae
Faroe Islands: Mountains, Fjords & Vikings

Research: Orkney 2 - Neolithic Skara Brae

After leaving the Neolithic megaliths of the Stones of Stennes and the Ring of Brodgar - see HERE -  we drove a few miles up the road to face the Atlantic Ocean at Bay of Skaill, a wide expanse of silver sand between two headlands. Partway along, now protected from the eroding ocean and its storms by a retention wall, is the best preserved Stone Age village in northern Europe, Skara Brae.

Neolithic World Heritage site Skara Brae, Bay of Skaill, Orkney

Ten distinct buildings survive. Aerial photographs show a scree of debris reaching into the sea, so the village could have been larger. The buildings, constructed in three distinct phases over the 5-600 years of occupation, are of a similar layout and most a decent family size. Everything visible is constructed from stone, either collected cobbles or the local sandstone split to size, much as were the megaliths mentioned above.

A covered and paved passageway linked the partially subterranean buildings, and each has a doorway that could be barred from inside. Across the fire-pit/hearth stands a three-shelved 'dresser'. Around it are a pair of grinding stones, 'boxes' capable of storing live seafood in water, and a container for (probably) fresh water. Two stone-faced bedding units face each other. Most buildings also have an alcove, or a small ante-chamber built into one wall. 

Skara Brae was uncovered from the sand dunes in 1850 after a particularly fierce storm and over succeeding years was gradually dug out. At the time it was believed to be an Iron Age Pictish settlement circa 500BC, a view that remained well into the 20th century, despite the furnishings material and no sign of any iron-working. After all, regardless of the evidence of the megaliths not far away, Neolithic peoples couldn't possibly be this refined, could they?

Part of still-covered passageway connecting the houses

It wasn't until the early 1970s that modern archaeology and radiocarbon dating finally blew this tenacious theory into the ocean. Not only is Skara Brae 4,500-5,000 years old, that small ante-chamber in most of the buildings had a water-fed drain in its floor and is considered to be the earliest inside flushing toilet.

Artefacts discovered on site include jewellery and clothing pins, and an assortment of bone and stone items not easily recognised. Also found have been a lot of antler from Scandinavia, jet from the North Yorkshire coast of England, and amber from the Baltic region, as well as pottery with designs seen at the Newgrange Neolithic site in the Boyne Valley of Ireland. As our guide said: Think of the logistics, both in communication and transport - Wow!

For more information see: http://www.orkneyjar.com/history/skarabrae/

Other posts in this Research series:

Orkney 1: Vast Skies & Standing Stones

Orkney 2: Skara Brae

Faroe Islands: Mountains, Fjords & Vikings  

Research: Orkney - Vast Skies & Standing Stones

Turning towards Kirkwall (courtesy Michael Clarke)

There's nothing quite like sighting skerries and ever-larger islands, and knowing that the wide bay of the capital, Kirkwall, will soon be opening before our ship's bows.

The 70-odd islands making up the Orkney archipelago off the north-east tip of Scotland are renowned for their green and gently rolling landscapes, lack of trees, and wind strong enough to knock you off your feet. So how did it become the centre of the western north-hemisphere during what is commonly referred to as the New Stone Age?

For its size, Orkney carries more prehistorical monuments than anywhere else in both Britain and Europe, and it's not just the well-known clusters: the Stones of Stenness, the Ring of Brodgar, Mor Stein, Quoyness Cairn, Maeshowe; single monoliths stand sentinel on low rises almost on every side. It made me wonder what lies beneath the foundations of medieval Norse Kirkwall.

We were on a half-day excursion on Mainland so our choices were decided, but our garrulous and informative guide - joy! an archaeologist - kept up a stream of enlightening facts and up-to-date conjecture to give context to what we were seeing.

Stones of Stenness

The Stones of Stenness, located at the junction of lochs Harray and Stenness, was our first stop. It is considered to be the oldest henge site in the British Isles, pre-dating Stonehenge in Wiltshire. The stones come from different parts of the islands and are believed to have been brought to the site by separate social groups who built a fire-pit in its centre and feasted together. 

A single shorter stone used to stand to one side. Known locally as Odin's Stone, it was remarkable in having a natural hole through which lovers held hands to swear their devotion, until in 1814 the landowner, fed up of trespassers, destroyed it. Even his own father was appalled. Thankfully, over the centuries when the Picts, the Scots, and the Norse claimed the land as their own, such desecration has been rare, or limited to graffiti. See HERE for the runic inscriptions left inside the Maeshowe chambered cairn by sheltering Viking Norse.

Map from the information board at the Stones of Stenness

Half a skip away lies the Barnhouse settlement, Maeshowe, and what has developed into the most fascinating archaeological dig in the entire UK. On the Ness of Brodgar a supposed simple Neolithic settlement has turned into what is believed to be a temple complex where, among others, the lower walls of a single building 82ft x 65ft (25 x 20metres) have been uncovered. Follow this LINK for spectacular images and a continuing 'Dig Diary'. A timeline for the building of all these monuments can be found HERE.

A very small part of the Ring of Brodgar

Half a skip from those - yes, these sites are all within easy walking distance - is the Ring of Brodgar which I had particularly wanted to see. 27 slim standstone megaliths remain, reaching 7-15 feet into a bright sky with hardly a breath of wind to ruffle the heather growing across its 340ft diameter centre. 

I've seen images of the Ring on television and in magazines, and each time I gained the impression of a flat landscape, much as my own photograph displays. In fact, the site stretches up and across the side of  hill, the stones enclosed by, even now, a deep ditch.

We couldn't explore the Barnhouse settlement, Maeshowe, or the excavation continuing on the Ness of Brodgar. Our visit had been designed to be a taster, and it certainly whet our appetites to return. 

Besides, we were boarding our coach to what will be my next post, another World Heritage site: Skara Brae. 

Other posts in this Northern Isles series:

Orkney 1: Vast Skies & Standing Stones

Orkney 2: Stone Age & Sea Age - Skara Brae
Faroe Islands: Mountains, Fjords & Vikings