Quest in Ancient Wessex
          A talk given by Mrs. Sanfrid Odhner at Glencairn to the
          Museum Association, November 11, 1984.

          When I arrived at school on that grey November morning just a year ago, I was startled out of my semicoma by those colorful travel posters of charming Britain: Stratford houses with floral hanging askets, mysterious Stone-henge, rocky Channel cliffs, misty mountains of Wales. Painful nostalgia gripped my heart; I hadn't been to England since 1948. And here Suzanne had done it again. What I had always planned to do she had already got rolling. Here was her come-on to students: "Sign up right here for a summer tour of England." There was a momentary flash of envy as I thought, "I should have done this," a moment of irritation when I thought "she should have asked my permission before she put those posters up in the school" — and then an overwhelming rush of grateful thanks for this energetic, creative young teacher who captures the imagination of the young people and doesn't wait endlessly for the old guard to get organized.

          That was the very quiet beginning of an amazing adventure; unexpected doors opened up as we developed our exciting plans. Suzanne sent home her brochures, and parents and patrons (as you heard about the Woodworth Fund) began to call with generous and enthusiastic support in the form of contributions, so that we set up some research essays on the history and literature of Britain. In planning the scholarship program I began to look at the brochures  more carefully. My attention was arrested by the travel bureau's letterhead and tour suggestions. "Casterbridge Hall in the heart of Old Wessex." Thomas Hardy country, I mused, where earth and sky and soul and body meet. I went into a reverie and could almost feel the fresh air blowing across my face as I recalled Farmer Oak's midnight vigil in Far from the Madding Croud. "The sky was clear —  remarkably clear -- and the twinkling of all the stars seemed to be but throbs of one body, timed by a common pulse. The North Star was directly in the wind's eye and since evening the Bear had swung round it outwardly to the east till he was not at a right angle with the meridian. To persons standing alone on a hill during a clear midnight such as this, the roll of the world eastward is almost palpable movement." Then I thought "Salisbury Plain" and ancient Stonehenge, Glastonbury Abbey ' where, legend says, Joseph of Arimathea who gave his sepulchre for the Lord's burial carried the Holy Grail, and Glastonbury Tor, reputed to be the Isle of Avalon where Arthur's wounds were tended by Morgan La Fay after his final battle of Camulam.

          I rummaged quickly for the old maps sent to me by the Camelot Research Society. My excitement became intense. "Suzanne," I said, "do you realize that Caster-bridge Hall must be within a few miles of Camelot? The way I figure (I measured my thumbnail as 30 miles between the Bristol Channel and the English Channel), it's right here!" "What's right here?" she said. "Camelot, that is, Cadbury Hill, which archaeologists now believe is Camelot. This is very interesting."   

        "Would you like to come?" she said. "If we get 14 students we can take two teachers." Tears started up. Is this really happening? Might I really go on a real life search for King Arthur?  

        I remembered Miss Ashby reading the 4th graders from Howard Pyle, "In the days of Uther Pendragon..." and later in high school Miss Buell from Lord Tennyson, "And near him stood the Lady of  the Lake. Who knows a subtler magic than his own — clothed in  white samite, mystic, wonderful. She gave the King his huge  cross-hilted sword whereby to drive the heathen out." In college  Bishop Pendleton from Edwin Arlington Robinson of Guinever, "White and gold, white and gold." The legends had ever haunted me, so real in their spirit, and now would Arthur become more real in history? I had never been to the West Country. Would the beauty disappear in a puff at the touch of the archaeologist's spade?  Never, in my wildest thoughts did I expect we would actually uncover what we did in four short days in the Arthur country, opening the way for research that could last me a lifetime. This is my first formal disclosure of what I think we found, I have been trying to hold my excitement in bounds until I could check some sources, but since time is not my servant but my master, I will tell what I know and hope some of our students will complete the quest.  Suzanne has taken you through the rest of the happy tour which crisscrossed England from London to Purley Chase, from Stratford to Wales, from York to Oxford.

    Now picture the tension that was building in me, one who had arrived at almost three score years, who had loved Celtic mythology and studied the Neolithic wonders of southwest England, and yet had never seen Wales, or Stonehenge, Avebury or Glastonbury. Sitting in the front seat of our mini bus as we started south from Oxford on that August afternoon we raced around corners, through picturesque villages of Oxfordshire and Berkshire. I watched frantically for a distant view of the ancient flying white horse carved in the chalk cliffs. I thought 1 saw it off in the distance. "Oh, I'll show you a better one," said Tony as we raced by. I bit my lip in childish disappointment. Our two mini buses started a steep climb and we arrived on top of a craggy hill overlooking a spectacular view. Human gliders were circling around us like buzzards; half the families of England were out flying their kites on this fresh, bright Sunday afternoon. We turned a corner and there was the huge stiff workhorse on the nearby hill. "That's not it," I said, "that only dates back to King Alfred's time." I was immediately ashamed that I had dampened the pleasure of our eager guides who were so proud of their finds. I had to admit that it was a gorgeous place. But someday I will go back and find that elusive Neolithic horse that I saw flying in the distance.

        Deeper we toured into the heartland of ancient Britain. I can only describe the intensity of my feelings by comparing them to the pull of a magnet towards the earth's very core. There are some places on earth where no one doubts that the spirits of olden times still haunt. Stonehenge and Aveb-ury are so famous we hardly need to comment on their magnificence. In spite of recent warnings of disappointment, of barbed wire fences and commercialism, I have to report that old Stonehenge still stands in all its lonely dignity on the solitary Salisbury Plain and the stone monuments of Avebury nestled in the softness of a quiet farm village, complete with cows and barns, still allow unrestrained strolling amongst its ancient megoliths. There were the friendly natural hills. They proclaim human involvement. Enormous earthen burial mounds and circles of standing stones recording forever the serious ceremonials of an ancient religious culture. Dramatic and impressive are the steep hills and sudden ditches of Avebury. The girls were full of smiles and near disbelief so strange were the contours of these northern Wessex Downs. We were expected at Casterbridge Hall by supper time; the magnet was tugging at my heartstrings again as we got into the buses for the last leg of the journey. I felt like an old Celtic harp, reawakened after many years of quiet. Tony was excited too; these guides are so proud of Caster-bridge Hall, and they couldn't wait to get back to Margaret's home-making and Sharon's cooking. "Girls," Tony said, "don't blink your eyes as we pass through our village, if you do you may miss it!" I pulled out the copy of the 15th century map of Somerset which I had bought in the British Museum and found the tiny village of Temple-combe. "What does 'combe' mean, Tony? It seems that the name of every other village in old Somerset ends with 'combe.' " "I think it means 'hollow,' " he said. "Oh," said I, and settled down to some moments of reverie while I studied my ancient map. Then Tony added very quietly, "The 'Temple' part of Templecombe comes from the Knights Templar; they founded our village." My grey hairs almost pulled out of their pins as they tried to stand on end! Why, Womfram van Eschenbach, one of the earliest medieval writers of Grail legends, identifies the Grail heroes with the Knights Templar! But modern day archaeologists who are digging for the real historical Arthur in his 6th century setting in the English West Country don't usually pay much attention to the 12th-13th century French and German legends. Here is Templecombe, 5 miles from the 6th century fortress of Camelot, 10 miles from Glastonbury, the Isle of Avalon, all distant from those farfetched 12th century tales of Geoffrey of Mon-mouth, of knights in armor, of castles and of the French and German romances of chivalry; further still from the 15th century Marte d'Arthur of SirThomas Malory, and now, all of a sudden, this shocking juxtaposition of the very prototype of the late medieval knights in armor, here in Templecombe, next-door to the more rugged archaeological certainty of the 6th century Bibelot. What could be the meaning of this? No one, to my knowledge, had seemed to connect Temple combe with the sites of the Arthur Country. It just happened to be the quiet little village where, 5 years ago, Michael had found an English mansion to use as the base for his travel bureau. And we just happened to like their travel brochures.

    Here is Geoffrey Ache, digging with his Camelot Research Society, at Cadbury Hill, at Glastonbury and at Tintagel for a real historical King Arthur, and just next-door is this village founded by the Knights of Templar, who were the most famous knights of the 12th century Crusades, guarding the gates of Jerusalem with their coats of mail, their white tunics emblazoned with red crosses and sited by a faraway German scholar as the heroic knights of the Grail, but usually associated with Jerusalem and Central Europe. Hasn't anyone put this together? My head was spinning for the next few days as we explored the sure sites of Camelot and Avalon.

         Why do I say, sure sites: I was prettey well convinced by the evidence I read about before we went to England last summer, and unshakably sure after having climbed those hills and battlements this summer.  I will list rapidly some of the significant evidence that testifies to an historical Arthur, leader in war, with his famous knights and associates, who fought off the pagan Saxon invasion from his Christian, Celto-Roman fortress in Southwest England in the early part of the 6th century. 1) Starting in 1930, pottery shards dated 5th and 6th century were found in Tintagel on the Cornish coast, indicating an important center of trade and gifts from the Mediterranean, headquarters of an important ruler. In legend, Tintagel is the birthplace of Arthur and the home of Tristram. 2) In 1935 on the southern coast of Cornwall, not far from Tintagel, perhaps the most dramatic find: a burial stone inscribed in Latin: Drustanus hic iacit filius Cunomorz, "Tristram lies here, son of Cynvawr." This inscription can be dated at 6th century. 3) In 1931, 1934 and 1962 archaeologists' excavations found more evidence of grave sites at Glastonbury which lend credence rather than doubt to the long disputed claim of the Glastonbury monks of 1191 that they had discovered the gravestone, beneath which was a lead cross with roughly incised inscription: Hie iacet sepultus inclytus Rex Arthurus cum Wenneveria uxorus sua secunda in Jnsula Avallonia, "Here lies buried the renowned King Arthur with Guinevere his second wife in the Isle of Avalon." Excavating further they found a hollow oak coffin with iron barred lid, in which were bones of an enormous man and a small woman. On the skull of the woman there still remained a long tress of yellow hair. 4) Geologists testify that the hills of which Glastonbury Tor is the highest were islands amidst the marshy waters of the Bristol Channel, in the 6th century; hence, the apple bearing isle or Celtic Avalon, and the Glass Hill, or Glastonbury. 5) In 1913 archaeologists found a Neolithic 18 acre hill fort, 500 ft. high surrounded by steep defensive ramparts, at what is now called, Cadbury-/Camelot. In the 1950's they found within these ramparts

          King Arthur's Grave at "Avalon"

traces of a Romano Celtic temple, with a gilt bronze letter "A," a bronze head and bronze brooches and Celtic style refortification of defenses on a huge scale. In 1966-70 they found Tintagel pottery, Merovingian glass fragments and traces of huge 6th century hall 63' x 34', and other buildings including an unfinished 6th century building in the shape of a cross! 6) >From recently translated Welsh bards of around 600 we find references to the battles of Mount Badon and Camulam, of heroes named Gwythian Bedwyr and Uther and Arth (the bear); and the scholar Gildas writing in 540 refers to "Ambrosius Aurelianus"— "leader in war."

         So those are just some of the evidences which make it very clear that there is a 6th century settlement and every evidence of a real Arthur. But this is all 6th century. This has nothing to do with those legendary knights in shining armor of the Howard Pyle and Thomas Malory fame, nor anything to do with those actual historical knights of the Crusades of 500 years later! Or did they?

    Let's take a look at the Knights Templar. History says that in the year 1118 eight French knights associated themselves together to protect pilgrims on their journesy to the holy places in Jerusalem. They took the monastic vows of poverty, chastity and obedience. The king of  Jerusalem gave them a place to stay in his palace, near the ruins of the temple of Solomon — hence the name Templars. Bernard of Clairvaux was very interested in their work and supported them. The fame of their courage and selflessness grew so great that the Order was organized into 3 classes — nobles, free born men and clerics. Popes and kings showered them with wealth until they outdid their very kings and popes in power and wealth. Besides their military/religious order, they had fleets of vessels engaged in trade and banking. In the 13th century they had 7,000 manors in Western Europe. This great wealth and independent power naturally led to persecution by covetous kings, hideous stories of trumped-up charges of them worshipping idols by Philip IV of France in 1309 against the Templars, leading to torture and death and dispersal of the Templars.

     That's history — now let's go back to legend. To my knowledge most mythological scholars believe that the legends of King Arthur and his court of chivalry were spread through the 12th century courts of France and met mid-century with the Grail legend which came back from the Middle East with the returning Crusaders, and they also met the ancient Welsh legends, and they describe the meeting like a sort of nuclear attraction which threw them together and made  the quest for the Holy Grail the core of the Arthur stories. That fits in nicely with the idea of Von Eschenbach that the Grail heroes were in reality the Knights Templar. But isn't it interesting that some of the Templars found their way back to the very locale of the actual historical Arthur country of 5 centuries before the Templars, which was really not reconfirmed until recently in this century. Or do historians have it the wrong way around?  This leads to the final incredible part of my story. The evening before  we were to leave Ternplecombe, Tony, on his way to challenge some  of the girls to tennis high up on the village green, dropped another  one of his interesting tidbits to me. "Since you are so interested in these historical things," he said, "perhaps you ought to take a look at the very early picture of Christ that is in the village church. It is supposed to be one of the Templars' treasures, painted directly from the Turin Shroud." There you go, I thought, just one more of the 9,000,000 fake relics, but of course I couldn't wait to search this out. "You can get the key to the church from the fish and chips lady in the village," he said, "just beyond the bridge."

           The sun was setting miles over beyond the endless pastureland, and the cows nudged each other to escape me as I hiked rapidly down the village path. The fish and chips lady said she didn't have the key anymore, but I could get it from another shopkeeper in the morning. This was disappointing as we were leaving early in the morning, so I went up to the church and prowled around the graveyard and tried the doors just on the hopes that someone had left one of those old oaken doors unlocked. I was out of luck but I had a wonderful time savoring the outside of this tiny 9th century Saxon church. As I returned home I realized that some little boys had been walking along the village wall, following about ten steps behind me. I stopped and quizzed them about their isolated life in this remote little village. They had never been anywhere, but they knew that King Arthur had lived nearby and they knew I wanted to get into the church "to see the picture of Jesus," one offered. "Well," they said, "there are more Templar treasures in the Manor House" "Where's that?" I said. They looked at each other and smiled. One of the boys said, "It's right across from where you live."

         I raced back to Casterbridge Hall and called to three of the girls, who were shockingly hanging their wash out of the front window. We opened the creaky gate of the old 11th century barn-like manor house. We searched till dark fell, but couldn't find anything.  The girls boosted each other up into this barn-like place searching for treasures, but it got dark so fast we couldn't find anything.  The next morning, on our way out of town, the one bus sped on ahead, and I said quietly that I really could not bear to leave without seeing that picture. Tony didn't look happy about the delay, but valiant Suzanne said, "Tony, we really must see that picture." He suddenly swerved the bus around and aimed for the church. I hopped out and ran for the key and Sarah unlocked the door. I wish I could say that this picture of the Lord put me into a trance or a swoon, but it didn't. But it did look familiar and started me on amazing further search. There was an informally typed up explanation of this painting's provenance, written by the Rector of this little church of St. Mary's. He referred to the fascinating 1978 book published by Ian Wilson,

          Artist's Rendering of Shroud

    entitled The Shroud of Turin, the Burial Cloth of Jesus Christ? The very evening I returned home from England I started devouring the Shroud book; sure enough on page 184, where Wilson is theorizing that the Templars hid the famous Shroud during what are called the missing years from 1204 to 1307, he mentions our little village of Templecombe: 

        " But by far the most direct piece of evidence of the source of the Templar idolatry took the form of a few extant copies that have hitherto gone unrecognized as such. During a severe gale in Somerset, England, in 1951, the ceiling plaster collapsed in the outhouse of a cottage belonging to Mrs. A. Topp in the village of Templecombe. It revealed in the roof, covered with coal dust, a curious panel painting, the presence of a keyhole and hinge marks indicated that at one time it had been used as a door to the cottage coal-house. But it clearly had an earlier and more illustrious origin. For the Templars had in 1185 acquired property near Templecombe and built there a preceptory used for recruiting and training new members of the Order before sending mem for active service in the east. From its distinct medieval style there seems little doubt that the painting was once the property of the Order in Templecombe. Above all, from its nature as a bearded male head with a reddish beard, life-size, disembodied and above all, lacking in any identification mark, it corresponds precisely to descriptions of a Templar "idol," of which it may well be the only surviving copy.    '' Today the restored painting hangs in the tiny church of St. Mary, Templecombe. It is important because it dispels

                          Giant White Horse

any idea that the Templar idol might have been some form of bust. It conforms too, to some of the most rational Templar descriptions — "A painting on a plaque," "A bearded male head," "life-size with a grizzled  beard like a Templar's" (the Templars cultivated their beards in the style of Christ). It is believed that this painting was originally one of the many similar portraits in the possession of the Templars and used in their religious rites. When the Order fell into disrepute in the 14th century, its members were accused amongst other things, of "idolatry" — of worshipping a strange image. Could this be one such "idolatrous image" which escaped the inquisitor's attention? It does not appear to have a halo which is usually featured in all medieval paintings of Christ. During the suppression of the Order, the absence of the "halo" in their portraits — which the Templars maintained were paintings of Christ — appears to have been used as evidence of idolatry."

         Our quest, originating in the rolling hills of Somerset, is leading me into some studies of history, legend, romance, archeology and psychology, and of course religion, and I am beginning to synthesize the material from these separate disciplines and coming up with some intriguing theories. First of all, I would like to turn some history upside down. Rector Marshall just happened to mention in his little handout in the Templecombe Church that Temple-combe was an important center of Templar activity in the West Country and that they raised horses for service in the Middle East. This rang a bell. Arthur's victories against the Saxon invaders are partially attributed to the skill of those West Country patriots in raising and using horses for war.

         Could the West Country skill of raising horses for war have continued  through all those six centuries, from the 6th to the 12th century? We usually think of the Templars as originating in the Middle East in the 12th century, but doesn't it make sense that when they returned from the Crusades and were escaping from persecution, they would go back home to hide out? Does it not make sense that some of the Knights Templar originated in Somerset and were perhaps drafted by the Norman Crusader Kings who would say, "Let's fetch some of those patriotic Christian horsemen out of the West Country and take them to the Crusades"? In other words, might not some of those valiant Knights Templar have been descendants of the few remnants of Arthur's courageous band of the 6th century? It opens many possibilities. In a 1982 bestseller on the Holy Grail, we read of the persecution of the Templars for worshipping a "head."

        The head may also be connected with the famous Turin Shroud which seems to have been in the possession of the Templars between 1204 and 1307 and which if folded would have appeared as nothing more than a head. Indeed at the Templar preceptory at Tcmplecombe in Somerset a reproduction of a head was found that bears a striking resemblance to that on the Turin Shroud.

         What are these strange connections which weave in and out of history and legend? Joseph of Aramathea is constantly connected with Glastonbury and with bringing the Holy Grail to England. Botanists say that the bush is descended from a bush that was originally there and unique to the Holy Land.     

        The Grail isn't always the Christian cup of the Last Supper. Sometimes it is a magic philosopher's stone, sometimes it's the Word, and sometimes it is a dying king. Is it sometimes the face of the Lord that we are seeking, that the noble Grail heroes were treasuring? Is the great mystery of the treasured Holy Grail the overpowering indescribable experience remembered through the ages, the experience of coming face to face with the Lord? As it says in the Arcana Coelestia no. 222 "The face of Jehovah, of the Lord, is mercy, peace, and every good." Would not this be a sacred treasure, a magnificent experience to describe all through the ages? If they were hiding this they would light candles, and go into secret places and look at it.

         The spirit is not destroyed by the letter, nor is the spiritual reality diminished by the proofs of the natural, historical reality. As Christopher Hibbard said in his book Search for King Arthur, "But the quest for Arthur of Britain never can destroy the beauty of the works that his legend has inspired or the fascination of the legend itself. Since Arthur's nobility and valor first inspired the hearts of his followers, his story has dignified the human spirit. The search for the man himself has become a continuing quest for what lies hidden in the hearts of all men, and it may lead us one day to the truth about the Once and Future King."