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The Whispering Knights

A partially-collapsed stone burial chamber down the field from the Rollright Stones.


Their proximity to the Rollrights, rough contemporanity and siting on a posited ceremonial track that is believed to run around and west to the Rollright ring, says to me that this was an intended statement. I mean, all portal dolmen chambers are. But the Knights constitute a big bugger, standing on the limb of a big hill looking down a broad sweep of the West Country. They’d been standing some three thousand years before those became the lands of the Saxon leader Hrolla, the "Hrolla-landriht" that became the modern-day corruption Rollright. This is a dolmen that marks the passing of people who worked to make this country fit for living in. People like me: the genetic characteristics of Britons remain around 80% the same as the first Britons to occupy the country after the last Ice Age. People who worked against insane disadvantages, the worst of which was the lack of history — the inability to pass down knowledge except through lossy oral tradition, the inability to build on a repository of ideas. They marked the land as best they could to show that they were winning, slowly, generation by generation. This is the beginning of history.

Unbidden, my daughter twisted together a circle from corn and flowers, and left it as an offering on the fallen Knight that lays flat between the others.


Published in brainjuice photography Work