Northamptonshire Destiny

 

‘Okay where do you want to go?’

We look at each other with blank faces.

‘Where shall we go?’

We have to be back at two, so we can’t go far.

The Teenager has cabin fever and needs a trip somewhere, anywhere.

Our usual haunts hold no appeal and the weather forecast is for heavy rain. I’m sitting on the carpet in the  weather forecast defying bright sunshine trying to think of where we could go.

I haven’t a clue

Somewhere in our conversation I catch two words that seem to be somewhat significant..

On a whim I suggest that The Teenager should type these two words into his computer and that we should take it from there.

He types: “Northamptonshire” and “Destiny”.

He googles and scans the pages. We discover amazing things: there is a pop group called Destiny. There are pages describing a match when Australia played Northamptonshire at cricket. We muse upon the unfairness of a small county like Northamptonshire taking on the might of such a mighty antipodean continent. It seems an unequal match.

Then The Teenager makes a find.

‘Oh,’ he says ‘there’s a suggestion that that Battle of Brunanburh took place in Northamptonshire.’

I’m instantly hooked.

The Battle of Brunanburh was when King Æthelstan the king of England together with his brother Edmund defeated the combined armies of Olaf III Guthfrithson, Norse-Gael King of Dublin, Constantine II, King of Scots, and Owen I, King of Strathclyde around the year AD 937 in a mighty battle.

The exact location of this battle has been lost. Various locations offer tenuous claims to be the site of the battle. Academics have spent lifetimes pouring over old manuscripts and looking at the etymology of place names in the search for it.

I am amazed that there is a suggested location in Northamptonshire. I have never heard of this before.

I’m buzzing with excitement, ‘Find out where and we’ll go.’

The Teenager locates the tiny village with the tenuous claim. This village is mentioned in a footnote in an ebook. On another site he finds a picture of the village church. We make it our goal to go there and to take a picture of the church.

Within seconds we are in the car and heading there, and I’m thinking of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle which tells of the battle:

937:

Here, King Athelstan, leader of warriors,

ring-giver of men, and also his brother,

the aetheling Edmund, struck life-long glory

in strife around 'Brunanburh' ...

We travel miles, negotiate new roads and tiny lanes until we find ourselves in the tiny village. We spot the church, park ,and walk there.

The church is locked.

There is a man with a dog is in the graveyard. He tells us that the church is locked. I ask him if he knows of any battles taking place in the vicinity. He mentions Brunanburh and says he’s never heard of it being associated with his village. I’m amazed that he’s even heard of it, so few have.

We are about to leave when he reaches into his pocket and brings out a large church key opens a small side door and invites us inside the ancient church.

Our guide is a wonderful. His black dog comes into the church with us. Her name is Holly. She barks for the return of her small yellow ball and then runs up and down the aisle.

We are shown the church’s secrets and treasures.

There are the carved heads. One is a prototype of a green man without the leaves coming out of his mouth.

The more we marvel the more is shown to us. One carved head we are told has a monk’s tonsure which can only be seen if viewed from above.

We are shown rare medieval glass; just fragments, all that could be found after Cromwell’s men smashed the once beautiful windows. They are fragile golden yellow pieces depicting strange mythical creatures,

Our guide peels back the carpets and reveals wonderful strange grave stones. One depicts a puzzle. Could the woman who was buried really have given birth to a son at the age of 75?

We are thrilled and amazed in turn.

As we leave we thank our guide, amazed that we should find such a place and also someone who was happy to spare the time to show us around. Someone who just happened to be there when we turned up, and who just happened to have the key in his pocket.

The landscape in which the village lies holds two low  hills from which opposing armies could easily have ridden down and done battle. There is a small brook at the bottom of the hill which might have once witnessed the clash of the opposing armies.

This may not be the site but I can imagine a battle taking place there, eerily so for though we have had unexpected good fortune in the village there is something that repels and makes me feel uneasy there, in the same way that the Battle of Naseby site leaves me feeling chilled and uncomfortable.

So we leave with the certainty that this was indeed the place in Northamptonshire where some did indeed meet their destiny.
We certainly did.