The Eucharist of Osiris

I am delighted to finally get Dave Hunt's much sought after article on the ASH Magazine archive. Originally published in The Lighthouse Vol 2 Issue 1. Here is a psychic pilgrimage that took on an alignment of "Ash" prefixes in various village names across North Cornwall, Devon, and Somerset, which according to James Rendel Harris, may suggest an historic influence of ancient Egyptian visitors and cultural practices in these locations. This occult adventure formed part of the wider esoteric workings within our Fellowship of Isis Iseum, which was active during the early 1990s. During our pilgrimage, we connected the various sites to the mythological narrative of Osiris, emphasizing a belief that these locations may embody spiritual significance related to the themes of death and resurrection, and the cycles of nature prevalent within the Egyptian pantheon. All within the confines of the English West Country. 

THE EUCHARIST OF OSIRIS 

A PSYCHIC QUEST ACROSS THE SOUTH WEST OF ENGLAND

David Hunt 

The family of Osiris. Twenty-second Dynasty, Louvre, Paris

I had been researching the works of J. Rendel Harris a Victorian visionary, and Quaker who in the 1920's had published a series of papers stating that the ancient Egyptians had visited Britain long ago and had founded settlements in the west country. The foundation of his statements was based on the derivation of place names, and he believed that in many west country village names there can be found traces of the ancient Egyptian language. One such word was that of "Ash", as in Ashwater, the ash prefix being derived from the Egyptian "Esshet" used to identify those places along the Nile where Isis had recovered the pieces of Osiris' body after it had been torn into 14 pieces by his rival Set, in an attempt to destroy him. After studying maps of Cornwall, Devon and Somerset I discovered a line of 8 "Ash" villages stretching from Tintagel in the west, to Cadbury Castle in the east. An interesting alignment, not only from an Egyptian point of view but also the Arthurian. I showed these findings to Alex Langstone and Carole Young, the other members of our Iseum, and it was decided that we should travel the line as soon as we could. 

THE DREAM 

As I was slipping into sleep, I found myself as a hawk, hovering over the sea at Tintagel head. Before me stretching inland, lay the line of "Ash" villages. As I flew along the line a voice seemed to say; "This is the body of Osiris. By gathering soil at each site, you visit you will bring together the body of the god. At the end of your journey, you may plant an edible crop in the body which when harvested, will enable you to perform the Eucharist, the taking into yourself the elements of Osiris to enhance the workings of your Iseum." 

THE QUEST

25th March 1993. Strolling through the streets of Tintagel, which thankfully were devoid of holidaymakers we made our way to the beach below the headland on which stands the ruins of the Norman castle. It was our intention to conduct a meditation within Merlin's cave, but we were foiled on two points, firstly the tide was in, and secondly the steps down to the beach had been destroyed in a rock fall. Not a very auspicious beginning, still we pressed on. A visit to St Materiana's cliff-top church made up for our disappointment, however. We found the small side chapel, dedicated to St Mary such a peaceful and welcoming place that we decided to perform our ritual meditation there. Something we would never normally presume to do in a place of Christian worship, but it was as if we were being guided, so we set the scene. We felt it was no desecration to use the (empty) altar and set it out in reverence to Osiris. We then each invoked our own deity and settled down to await communication. As we sat quietly contemplating the days ahead, we became aware of a soft breeze circling the room, even though the doors and windows were firmly closed. After a while we all felt that we were not alone, and unseen presences were circling before us. Prayers were spoken to the deities of the ancient Egyptian pantheon, dwelling on Isis of the moon and Sekhmet of the sun. With the rite completed, we went into the main part of the church. 

The magnificent stained glass at St Materiana's
cliff-top church, Tintagel

Tintagel's Green Bishop chair

We all stood and stared at the beautiful stained-glass window above the altar. This showed the stages of Christ's crucifixion, resurrection and transformation; supported on either side by a crescent moon and a blazing sun. We also were amazed to discover the "Green Bishop" chair, and it was easy for us to  connect this image to that of Osiris. We gave thanks to the guardians of the church and went out into the gentle warmth of a soft Tintagel Spring evening. 

5am the following day, saw three weary, bleary-eyed questers rise from their warm beds and wander out into a Cornish dawn. We walked to the edge of the cliffs overlooking the sea; soul of the Goddess, and the road which carried Her priests to these shores many years ago. We set up a shrine to Osiris on a small outcrop of rocks and waited for sunrise. At the first sight of the great orb, an invocation was made to Horus, and a prayer to Osiris was read from the Book of the Dead. Blood was spilt; not intentionally, I hasten to add. Carole cut her finger trying to light a lantern and we couldn't stop the bleeding! After a well needed breakfast back at the guesthouse, we set off for our first Ash site. 

THE ALIGNMENT

An Entrance to the underworld?
Crossroads at Trelash, North Cornwall

Trelash; the feet of Osiris wasn't much of a village, just a scattering of houses and a farm at a place where three roads met - the meeting of three ways, entrance to the underworld, the Hall of Osiris. A place of earth and earth-spirits. We performed a meditation here; we all felt the faerie folk around us very strongly. We collected some earth, and drove on to Ashwater, the legs. Here we collected more soil, and after a brief meditation to acknowledge the place, we drove on to Ashbury, the thighs. 

St Mary's church, Ashbury, North Devon. 
Site of the thighs of Osiris

Here we came across a remote church, redundant but still cared for. After a look inside we each wandered off on our own to seek inspiration. Alex and Carole both heard "psychic laughter" coming from the interior of the church. Perhaps someone or something knew what lay ahead of us. We collected a handful of soil and continued on our quest. Although not an "ash" site, Sampford Courtney lies on the line, and I knew it contained the image of an aspect of Isis, that of a sow suckling her piglets. This image is found in several other Devon churches; Braunton, Spreyton and Ugborough having good examples.

 

Sow and piglets. Sampford Courtney. 
(Paul Atlas-Saunders)

Upon entering the church we were well rewarded. As well as the sow and piglets, we found two green men foliate heads, representing in this context Black Osiris as the earth, giving forth vegetation thus being transformed into Green Osiris, god of the spring and rebirth. Other carvings showed the "Tinners Rabbits", a well-known west country image, being actually three Hares, symbols of the moon, shown in a clever triangular formation; having only three ears between them but appearing to have two each! Here we have an image of the Christian Holy Trinity, or in our context the Holy family of Isis, Osiris and Horus. 

Green Man, Sampford Courtney
(Paul Atlas-Saunders)

The next site on the line was Ash Bullayne. In the legend of Isis' quest for the body of Osiris it is said that the only piece She failed to recover was his phallus. In our quest for the Eucharist of Osiris the only place we couldn’t find was Ash Bullayne. We drove around for ages, but we Just couldn't find the right road. In the end we stopped at Oldborough, and I consulted a roadside street map of the area. Ash Bullayne was nowhere to be found! However, one of the streets shown was called Pizzledown Road, and I recalled that a Bulls penis is sometimes known as a Pizzle, and that Osiris had been depicted as a bull in Egyptian iconography. All this, bearing in mind that we were looking for Ash Bullayne. No earth was gathered and it was getting late, so we decided to look for accommodation. 

Here we found our next problem. Everywhere we phoned was full! Eventually we managed to find a farmhouse B&B out at Cheriton Fitzpayne. We arrived in the twilight, and as we drove along the dark narrow Devon lanes, we all got the impression that we had entered a B movie scenario. You know the sort of thing; three innocent strangers heading through the gathering dark towards an old, isolated farmhouse. Stephen King eat your heart out! We were not disappointed... We were warmly welcomed by the farmer, who quickly explained that his wife was out, her father having died yesterday. We said the usual words of regret, as one does on these occasions and stepped inside. Now we in our Iseum are all anti-bloodsports, and Alex a confirmed vegetarian, so you can imagine our thoughts as we entered the hallway to find ourselves surrounded by bits of dead animal. The walls were festooned with antlers, fox brushes, stuffed deer heads and perhaps worst of all plaques holding the severed hooves of deer, or deer paws as Alex called them. We saw Alex's face change, and thought he was about to explode with rage. But he managed to compose himself and we made our way up to our rooms. If it hadn't been so late, we would have left there and then, but as we didn't fancy spending a night in the car, decided to stick it out. 

Osiris, with wheat growing from his body.
From a bas-relief at Philae

Once settled, we drove into Cheriton Fitzpayne to seek some refreshment, but the only pub was really grotty. You know the sort of hostelry; a place where the regulars, only occupants of the bar all go quiet as you walk in, and after a while say things like, you're not spending a night at Doomcastle Farm* are you? whilst exchanging knowing glances. As it was we found an excellent place to eat a bit further down the road, and just as well too. (* not the real name) 

We were all totally exhausted as we made our way back to the farm, there to be greeted by the farmer’s wife, now returned, and were ushered into the lounge for a chat over a cup of coffee. To be polite, though we longed for our beds, we accepted and chatted amiably for a while with our hostess. The large room was comfortably furnished, with a huge stone fireplace. A typical Devon farmhouse. All around the walls were pictures and ornaments exalting the glories of the hunt, and we glanced at Alex slumped in a huge chair, looking decidedly uneasy. The farmers wife seemed a very excitable lady and talked ten to the dozen in a broad Devon accent, pausing occasionally to breathe, before continuing with the conversation on all sorts of topics. We sat there nodding politely, occasionally managing to drop in a really!" or "Oh dear", into the spaces where she paused to gasp for breath. Half asleep and feeling quite cosy I suddenly realised she had changed the tack of the conversation and was now subjecting us to a fierce defence of bloodsports. Whether she had sensed Alex's animosity, and somehow felt threatened, or perhaps that's the way farmers talk? We were treated to tales of lambs with their heads tom off, chickens massacred by Badgers, and one particularly entertaining episode of how you can run over a Badger in a tractor several times and still not kill it! Alex in the meantime was very quiet. His face kept changing colour, shades of pink, then red, then white as he came closer and closer to the end of his patience. Luckily, we were saved by the bell, literally. A ringing phone caused the lady to leave the room, and we seized the chance to make a hasty exit to our rooms. 

Madonna window.
Ashill church, Somerset.
(Paul Atlas-Saunders) 

Once upstairs there was a sizeable explosion as Alex gave vent to his feelings. By now the quest was in great danger of being abandoned, but we decided to sleep on it and see how we felt the next day. Behind Alex's bed was a small cupboard built into the wall, and I sadistically took great delight in telling him that it was full of dead bloody things that would reach out for him during the night. So, we ended the day with a laugh, albeit a nervous one. 

The next day began with Alex refusing to get up for breakfast, saying he wouldn't eat anything in that "house of blood". Carole and I, on the other hand enjoyed a feast of grilled pig, unborn chickens and all the other delights of a farmhouse breakfast. We left the farm in a state of some depression and made our way to the next "Ash" site, having decided to carry on even though our hearts weren't really in it anymore. I checked the map and suddenly realised what had been going on. The next place to be visited was Ash Thomas, which we had identified as being the intestines of Osiris. In travelling up the body the previous day, we had passed from the legs, up through the groin, and into the lower abdomen, a place of guts and bowels and general nastiness. Had we fallen into the trap thinking that questing was all sweetness and light? Also, by now, to we three paranoiacs there was also the possibility that Set, having tried to throw us over the Ash Bullayne episode, had tried to deal us a final blow at Doomcastle Farm. 

Osiris: God of agriculture

Spirits suddenly lifted somewhat, and we continued onto Ash Thomas; the intestines of Osiris. A small Victorian red brick church greeted us here, not very inspiring, we thought. Still, we made our way inside and looked around. Still a bit stunned from the night before we just stood and gazed at the quite boring interior. Over the altar was a modem painting of the Virgin and Child, very nicely executed. As we stood looking at it, I noticed something quite odd. The picture portrayed Mary with the Christ child enfolded in her cloak, but because of the way it had been painted it looked as though the baby was only half a baby. As the cloak covered the lower half of His body. It was as if the child had been cut in two, with only the upper part from his navel upwards remaining. Considering that we believed that we were standing on the body of Osiris, it was almost a map stating - "you are here”. Feeling much better, we left the cool interior of the building and gathered some soil. It was then on to the last site in Devon. Ashill; the Solar Plexus. No church here, so we just sat in the car gathering our thoughts and preparing ourselves for possibly the most important part of our quest. The journey to the heart of Osiris. After collecting soil, we left Devon and entered Somerset, where the next site was another Ashill. 

Leaving Devon was like awakening from a troubled sleep. We were suddenly aware of what lay ahead and eager to experience it. A wonderful sight greeted us as we entered Ashill church. Above the entrance to the tower was a superb depiction of the Virgin and Child. Not a stained-glass window, but one etched with a modem image of Mary, young and vibrant holding aloft the Child whilst surrounded by rolling hills. The way the light caught the etched image made it almost shimmer. It had an air of freedom and celebration of life. I have visited many churches and have never seen its equal. It gave the church such an atmosphere of airiness that we all fell the benefit of its influence as soon as we entered the building. But that was not all this delightful place had to offer us. Set into the north wall were two stone effigies. The first was of a knight, in chain mail sadly broken, but with enough remaining for us to see that he had his hands in an attitude of prayer held over his heart. A little further along was a lady, in mediaeval dress also with her hands in a praying position but clasped between those hands was a heart. We held a meditation beneath a beautiful old yew tree in the churchyard, and having taken earth as instructed, we left feeling full of life and exuberance. 

We were now nearing the end of our journey and had only one more Ash site to visit. After that it would be onto Cadbury for the grand finale of our quest. Curiously the last Ash site was just that. Ash; the site of the throat. Such a silly site. We entered the vast Victorian church and became, I’m afraid, very irreverent. We were laughing and joking and not behaving at all 'proper'. We found that we had a lot to say about Christianity, in a very critical way. Poking fun at the many sects and strains of this universal religion. This attitude was prompted by a small brass plaque on the door of the sacrament cupboard, which appeared to show God working Christ on the cross with strings, like a puppet first tipping it this way Catholic, then that way Protestant etc. etc. It's a wonder we didn't get struck down by the wrath of God. We eventually calmed down and left the ballroom-like interior, to hold a meditation in the churchyard. This done we took soil and made the final journey to Cadbury castle - Camelot.

Cadbury Castle by William Stukeley

THE SACRED HEAD

We parked the car outside the church at South Cadbury intending to simply pay a courtesy visit before climbing up to the plateau of Camelot, City of Arthur, the Undying. This, to us was the place of the head of Osiris, and the culmination of our journey through the body of the god. Here was to be the pinnacle of our efforts in our quest for the body of Osiris. We walked towards the churchyard gate, and I glanced at the notice board as I passed. Suddenly I was transfixed. Here was the final statement; the icing on the cake, so to speak. Here, in this spot we had called the "place of the head" was a seemingly innocuous poster advertising Easter services. The Christian ritual celebrating the death and rebirth of their god. The most sacred event in their year. An event paralleled in the stories of Arthur and Osiris. According to the poster the celebrations were due to commence with a choral work. The title of this work was "Oh Sacred Head". We entered the church and found two last statements concerning our quest. The dedication was to Thomas a Becket who was martyred by having the top of his head cut off, and a small window showed that which I had been told in my dream. A farmer casting the seed, and a reaper gathering the harvest. We climbed to the top of Cadbury Castle and set up our sacred altar to Osiris. We performed a rite of ending and gave thanks for a successful quest. We then took some of the soil we had gathered and cast it in the direction of Glastonbury Tor, which could be seen on the horizon, whilst saying these words; Lady Isis, here is Osiris your husband, your brother who was lost, and is found again. Who was dead and is reborn in us. 

NOTES

In the Oxford Dictionary of Place Names, the majority of Ash place names were originally Ess followed by Aesc. 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 

The After Glow Essays by J. Rendel Harris, University of London Press, 1934. 

The Egyptian Book of the Dead 

EDITOR'S NOTE

This article was originally handed to me for publication in early 1994, and was to be published in issue 3 of the Lighthouse magazine. As things turned out it wasn't published until the 1999/2000 edition, (The Lighthouse Vol 2 Issue 1, which was rebranded 'A Beacon for the Pagan Arts', and published in Cornwall.)  I am very pleased to be able to finally reproduce it now on the archive.. The alignment of Ash sites should not be seen as an accurate mathematical alignment, because it will simply not stand up to scrutiny! It should rather be seen as a magical corridor aligning the specific energies in the land and to the psychology of those taking part in the quest. 

From my own point of view the most important part of the whole process was the Eucharist finale. This we held within our Fellowship of Isis Iseum's sacred temple, sited on the east coast, within the historic fishing port of Leigh-on-Sea. Here we performed a night time ritual during the waxing moon.  With great ceremony, we sowed some cress seed into the soil that we had collected from each of the places visited. A few weeks later, at the full moon, we harvested the cress and partook of the Sacred Eucharist of Osiris. 

Almost exactly a year later I unexpectedly found myself in the process of moving from Essex to Cornwall. Such is the magic of Osiris, Isis and Horus. 

Alex Langstone

ASH - Albion's Sacred Heritage Archive: In Memorium - Dave Hunt

Winter God

Winter God by Paul Atlas-Saunders was featured on the front cover of The Lighthouse Vol 2 No 1. 1999/2000. More articles from this issue will be republished on this archive soon.

Life Blood of Albion

This short psychogeographical and spiritual reflection on the rivers of Britain and in particular the Thames perfectly evokes the magical currents and philosophy of the author. This piece was written for ASH magazine issue number 5, by Dave Hunt and was published in the Autumn of 1989.  Dave was founding editor of the magazine, and was an accomplished folk magician and cunning man who spent most of his life living in the south of Essex, close to the river Thames. Photos have been added to give some visual context, but were not part of the original article. Plus I have added Jim Kirkwood's illustration of the sword in the stone, as this sat opposite Dave's article in the original publication. 

Life Blood of Albion

Dave Hunt

The Thames at Leigh on Sea, Essex

Albion is a country of many rivers, some great, some small, but all contribute to the lush and fruitful quality of our island. I was once told by someone much wiser than me that water is the soul of the Goddess, and as such carries the spiritual energy that makes Albion a place of great sanctity and holiness. Surely then, the obvious sites for our work and worship must be in the vicinity of such waterways. Our forebears knew this, siting the majority of  their henges, places of meeting and worship, near to running water.

The great river that feeds our part of the land is of course the Thames, noble and impressive, despite the industry that clutters its banks, especially in London and eastwards towards the sea.. To stand on one of its bridges and gaze at the water that glides, silk-like, beneath  is in itself a spiritual experience. 

Rising near Cirencester, the river traverses almost all of southern Albion growing in magnitude as it runs eastward. And as it flows, it gathers from the earth the spirituality of all the places it passes. From the vales of Oxfordshire, past the Berkshire downs and the Chilterns, until it approached London and the flat lands of Essex and Kent, whence it joins the sea. On its journey it is fed by many tributaries, each bearing the energy of its own area.

River Isis, near Oxford

Northern streams carry the essence of Gloucestershire and the Cotswold Hills, with glorious names like Evenlold, which has one of its risings at Great Rollright, Windrush, Leach and Coln. From the south come the Key, Ray and Ock, the latter flowing from the Vale of the White Horse. Most of these waters join the Thames before Oxford, where for a few miles the river changes its name to Isis, before reverting once again to the Thames.

The next tributary joins at Reading, being none other than the river Kennett itself, especially blessed by having its birth at Avebury, surely our most sacred site. Skirting the Chiltern Hills, the Thames runs through the western approaches to London, until it at last reaches the Capital. From here it flows in a majestic sweep towards the North sea, carrying with it the combined spirituality of all the places along its length. Is it any wonder that, according to legend, the original London bridge was built on the blood and bones of sacrifice to appease the power of this mighty waterway.

Essex has always been called "The Witch County", especially in its southern half. Small wonder, when such a great tide of "Albion-ness" feed its land.

ASH no. 9 cover art

Autumn cover art from ASH no. 9 by Jim Kirkwood

All four articles and artwork from ASH Autumn 1988 (first issue)

Below are the links to the Autumn 1988 issue of ASH magazine. I have reproduced these now, as the only surviving copy of the first issue has become too degraded to copy. Therefore, here are the links to the content, archived for the future.


Beyond the Dragon's Lair by Ian Dawson
https://albionssacredheritage.blogspot.com/2018/09/beyond-dragons-lair.html

The Sacred Flame by Jim Kirkwood
https://albionssacredheritage.blogspot.com/2008/10/sacred-flame.html

Mr Thomas Hickathrift by Dave Hunt
https://albionssacredheritage.blogspot.com/2009/11/mr-thomas-hickathrift-lord-of-year.html

The Devil in Essex by Alex Langstone
https://albionssacredheritage.blogspot.com/2014/05/the-devil-in-essex.html

Art from the first issue
https://albionssacredheritage.blogspot.com/2020/08/artwork-from-ash-magazine-autumn-1988.html

Artwork from ASH magazine autumn 1988 (first issue)

#ASHMag30 'celebrating diversity and creativity' 1988 - 2018

It was on the 16th October 1988, that the first issue of ASH magazine was published. The team had been gathered by stalwart Essex earth mysteries researcher and cunning man Dave Hunt. He  began to recruit team members from a diverse source: from Earthquest, the local witchcraft scene, from his own questing group 'New E.R.A' and from the esoteric Christian community. 

The idea was to have a divergent group of people, who would become the editorial team. The magazine was to be run as a cooperative, with no one in overall charge, and it worked. We gathered each month at the Scout Hut in Church Road, Vange, Essex, where we would garner intentions and share our written work, before deciding on what went in the magazine.

L - R. Dave Hunt, Claire Capon and Ian Dawson

 Picture credit: Claire Capon-Hawley

L - R. Jim Kirkwood, Ian Dawson, Alex Langstone and  Dave Hunt

Picture credit: Claire Capon-Hawley

We all had our own ideas and we quickly became an interesting, productive and creative hub. We also attracted some well known names to write for us, and due to the broad subjects we were covering, we had a broader appeal than some of the other counter-culture and earth mysteries magazines of the 1980s.

Many side projects were spawned. Psychic quests manifested, music was written, marsh-magic was conjured and art was created, both out in the landscape and in the studio. A good time was had by the liminal shore.

At the magazine's height, two successive, successful 'Esoterica' conferences were staged, plus a book launch for Bega and the Sacred Ring. It was the time where the seeds of future aspirations were being sown upon the shore of dreams.

The original team were: Dave Hunt, Ian Dawson, Jim Kirkwood, Claire Capon and Alex Langstone, with others joining us later, including Yuri Leitch as illustrator.

Look out for the hashtag #ASHMag30 on social media for more memorabilia.

Artwork by Yuri Leitch, capturing the spirit of the Michael Line Rally, 1991

Jim Kirkwood's striking cover art for ASH no.9 

Winter Celtic Cross. #ASHMag30

We were publishing folk horror imagery way ahead of its time. Illustration by Jim Kirkwood from our Winter 1989 issue.

Hidden Stones. #ASHMag30

            This artwork, by Jim Kirkwood, sat just before the final article, 'The Devil in Essex' 

in ASH Number 1, Autumn 1988

Beyond the Dragon's Lair. #ASHMag30

This article, written by Ian Dawson, is the final one to be placed on this archive from the very first issue of ASH in Autumn 1988. I am currently sitting here at my desk in the Camel Valley, Cornwall copying this excellent article onto the ASH archive. It is Autumn 2018, and it was thirty years ago that this magazine came into creation from the heart of Thames-side Essex. That land of briny silt, muddy creek and haunted coast. So let's enter into the realms 'Beyond the Dragon's Lair', where the enchantment of the low lying land of the East Saxons may find its source.

Beyond the Dragon's Lair

Ian Dawson 

During frequent visits into the Essex countryside, we have visited many rural churches. It has been noticed that on some there are strange and unusual carvings that are not of Christian origin. A few have foliate men, the pagan woodland spirit, and others have mouth pullers, (the cleaned up version of the Sheilagh-na-gig) which are ancient fertility goddesses. They are both pre-Christian symbols of the old religion.

Another symbol of the old religion is the dragon, which can be found on a number of churches, not only in Essex, but throughout Britain. Some relate to actual dragon sitings, such as the Horndon dragon, which was said to have been imported by the Barbary merchants in the middle ages, and escaped into the woods around Horndon, to be killed by Sir James Tyrell. This dragon ncan be seen carved into the woodwork of Nicholas church in nearby Laindon, which upon closer inspection, looks remarkably like a crocodile. Could it have been one of these creatures, brought from the African continent, that escaped into the woods at Horndon?

Perhaps the most well known story is that of the dragon of Henham, written in a pamphlet in Clerkenwell in 1669 by Robert Winstanley of Saffron Walden. According to eye witnesses, it was a "flying serpent" as thick as a mans leg, eight or nine feet long with eyes as big as sheeps, sharp teeth and small wings. This serpent seems to have been chased away by villagers with farm implements, never to be seen again. There is, however, in St Mary's church, Henham, a medieval carving of a dragon commemorating the event. 

Other dragon carvings have no such stories attached to them, such as the dragon being slain by a saint, usually St Michael. Obviously being seen as Christianity triumphing over the old religion. The churches reaction to the dragon, the symbol of the old religion, must be seen in the light of its early relationship with the conquering armies of Rome.

The Romans adopted the windsock banner of the dragon from the Parthians and Persians during their campaigns against these nations. The dragon then became one of the symbols of the hated Roman army, hated at least by the Jews, whose land now lay under the dominion of Rome.  This symbol of Rome is vividly portrayed in the Book of Revelations, doing battle with st Michael. It is the dragon of Rome or the Devil as Rome was seen to represent by the first Jewish Christians. Of course the legions also brought their dragon banners to Britain and their use was continued by the Romano-Celts after the Roman armies left these shores.

The name Uther Pendragon, (Head Dragon) is an example of the importance Celts gave to the dragon. The tradition was continued by Arthur and the dragon is now the national emblem of Wales, one of the last places in Britain to be Christianised. The churches abhorrence to the pagan dragon, stems not so much from the dragon itself, but to what is represents to them. This is why so many hilltop churches were dedicated to St Michael, who traditionally is slayer of dragons and as so many of these churches were built on earlier pagan temples, it would seem indeed, like Christianity was triumphing over the old religion. 

Examples of this can be seen at St Micheal's church in Fobbing, Essex, where in the south porch there can be seen a fifteenth century carving of a serpent, representing the pagans, and a man or local hero representing the Christians, holding open the jaws of the dragon, reminiscent of the strength card of the tarot. Another example of this can be seen at St Lawrence and All saints  in Eastwood, where inside, amongst the pews, there is a dragon scratched into a pillar directly above a pagan mark stone set into the floor. In this case the hero is seen standing above the dragon with his spear pointing down towards the beast and not actually fighting it. 

Not all dragons have slayers, churches often abound with dragons and no knight killing them. Could this relate to the site still being used for pagan worship as many often were in the early days of Christianity? In most cases old churches were built on power centres now termed as "ley-lines", incidentally called by the Chinese, dragon lines or paths. It has been said that when one of these power lines is interfered with, and dragon energy leaks out, and becomes dangerous, the local hero usually  a knight with knowledge of such things, comes to slay the dragon, or put right the damage. Could the leaking energy take the form of apparitions? Out of place animals are often seen where the ground has been disturbed, perhaps even in the form of dragons. Therefore the earth energies  can be seen a dragons winding there way across the countryside, or spiral-like around a hill, usually of a pagan nature.

I can recall a few instances of serpents or worms, as they were sometimes known, coiling around a hill, such as Lampton worm, which wrapped itself around Lampton Hill three times, or the dragon of Bignor Hill in Sussex, the footpaths or sheep tracks, which can be seen on the slopes of the hill, are said to be its coils. I would suggest that both of these places were used in the worship of the old gods in the pre-Christian days. The well known tracks of Glastonbury Tor are known as dragon paths and Hackpen (serpents head) hill near Avebury in Wiltshire, recalls the serpentine avenues of standing stones at the Avebury stone circles. Both of these places were most definitely sacred to the old religion of former times. 

I could go on  and on as there are numerous churches and other places with dragon associations, too many in fact to mention here in this article. indeed why not visit your local old churches and discover for yourself the dragon;s lairs. You will find churches, pre sixteenth century, supply a wealth of paganism with their architecture. You might be surprised at what you do find.