The great minds of archaeology and history still cannot agree on why or even how Stonehenge was created. A new paper was released just this week with the latest research and ideas. There are many theories and stories. Here’s one alternative story involving magic, mystery and one very special person with super powers.
It was many, many moons ago that Stonehenge came to be. First there was treachery and skulduggery, then there was betrayal, next came great sorrow. Battles were had and a lot of Britons died in the story of Stonehenge. But, the actual creation of the mysterious giant stone circle involves a whole lot of magic; the kind the people of the British Isles had not seen before, or since.
Back in time we must go to end of the Roman rule of Britain. The country was in turmoil as local chiefs of ancient tribes vied for high kingship. A man called Constantine took advantage and called himself emperor. But he wasn’t to last long and when he died the nobles debated what should happen. Of his three sons, Ambrosius Aurelianus and Uther Pendragon were young boys. Constans was away living in a monastery. Who should succeed the emperor?
As is often the way, from the shadows emerged a sly character with ulterior motives. This man was the Lord of Wirtgernesburg, and his name was Vortigern. He saw an opportunity to get a naïve young man on the throne who could be manipulated for his own nefarious means. Vortigern gained the ear of the king when Constans was pulled from monastic life to rule over the lands. He guided Constans through the political landscape of the warlords but this was not enough power for him. He decided he wanted to be king himself.
Voritgern schemed and plotted his rise to the top. First he married Constans’ mother, having dumped his current wife and sons. He then formed a pact with the Picts, of what would be Scotland. He spun a web of lies promising lands and riches if they were to kill Constans, which they did. The two younger brothers escaped across the sea to take refuge in France while the English barons sat back and let Vortigern take over the throne. But they were not happy about this sneaky move and plotted to overthrow him while he ruled from his castle in what is now Bradford Upon Avon. But, Vortigern was no fool and he knew trouble was brewing and war was around the corner. He scoured the land looking for fierce warrior mercenaries, those whose fighting skills could be bought for a price.
And so, Vortigern found himself in Thanet in Kent. Boats full of strangers had arrived from distant lands. They had escaped famine in their homelands of Saxony and had come looking for a new place to settle. Vortigern could see, these were not poor peasants but fighting men, with long blonde plaits in their hair and a fire in their eyes. One man stepped forward.
‘I am Hengist and this is my brother Horsa.’ He explained he was there in peace to forge a relationship with the Britons so they may settle there and make a life. Hengist threw himself at the mercy of Vortigern, and Vortigern in turn rubbed his hands in glee. Here was his army. But what Vortigern failed to recognise is that there are others in the world of men who are just as sneaky and treacherous as him. Others who do want anything less than absolute power.
Hengist, Horsa and their men joined up with Vortigern and fought back the Picts, sending them fleeing back into the Highlands having been totally fooled by the promises. Vortigern returned to his castle to settle back and enjoy his rule. But he still had no idea that Hengist had a plan beginning to take form.
Back in Thanet, more and more Saxons arrived on the shores. They bought their families and claimed parcels of land as their own. Hengist bought his most beautiful daughter over to Thanet. He planned for her to seduce Vortigern and so invited the king to visit. It’s true that Rowan’s beauty is what turned the king’s head initially but plied with drink after drink, by the end of the night Vortigern was in love. Once again, he cast aside his wife, Constans’ mother, and took the young Rowen as his bride. The plan was working as this marriage, in turn, gave Hengist the ear of the king, in the same way Vortigern had the ear of Constans in the past.
Understandably, the Briton barons were not happy about this. Vortigern was favouring the new Saxon settlers and when Vortimer, who was Vortigern’s eldest son, declared against him, the lands were once again plunged into a brutal war. The Saxon’s were at first loyal to the king, but they soon realised that an opportunity had arisen. The land of the Briton’s was rich and fertile, crops grew in abundance, cattle and sheep thrived, the women were bewitching; life here would be good. The Britons were too busy fighting amongst themselves to take much notice of what the Saxon’s were up to. Vortigern was busy fighting off his son Vortimer and was hiding in the very western edges of the island. The barons knew they could not fight off the Saxons without the king and apathy set in. They sent a messenger to Hengist’s camp. They suggested a parley. A meeting to talk about peace and discuss a way to live on the land together without war and fighting and death. They were to meet on Salisbury Plain without weapons. Most of Briton’s nobles would attend and after talks, they would feast. Hengist and Horsa agreed to the meeting but behind the Briton’s backs they concocted a blood thirsty plan.
All of Hengist’s Saxon warriors were to attend. They would all take a place in the circle next to one of the Britons. Within their boots they were to conceal a weapon, a seaxes, a long knife. When the command was given ‘Nemet seaxes’ each Saxon was instructed to cut the throat of the man next to them. And this is what happened. Although the British nobles fought back, they could not match the armed might of the Saxons. By dawn 460 men, the great and the good, lay dead on the plain. The Saxons spared Vortigern on account of his marriage to Rowan but he was banished to a tower deep in the mountains of Snowdonia.
Hengist was fired up. He planned to take over the whole land. But the Britons weren’t willing to give up just yet. He faced several battles. And whilst the first three were a success, at the fourth battle Hengist lost, and Horsa was slain. Hengist pulled Horsa from the battlefield in Aylesford in Kent. In abject misery he surveyed the land around him to find his beloved brother a fitting place to rest for all eternity. It should be that Horsa be carried down the hill by torchlight and sent out to sea for his final journey on his boat. But this was not possible and Hengist was bereft. He looked up on the side of the hill. There sat a large white stone which caught the final light of the day. Over the stone he lay his banner, a white horse, and in front of the stone Hengist buried his dear brother.
Hengist lost the will to fight, now his brother had departed. He went into hiding and his troops dispersed. He wandered the lands, looking for meaning in his life and revisted the mound on Salisbury Plain where he had slain the Britons. He asked the Gods, had he done right in bringing his people to this land?
On he roamed, across the lands, until he could go no further, and exhaustion had overtaken him. Down onto his knees he dropped and asked one of his Gods, Woden for a sign. What should he do next? As the dawn broke on the following day Hegist looked up from where he was laying and that’s when he saw the white horse. Carved faintly into the chalk hillside, there was the outline of a white horse. Hengist sprang to his feet. This was a sign! His family’s symbol was a horse so this must mean the Gods were with him.
Reinvigorated, he gathered his warriors back into the fold and took them into battle again. This time Hengist was victorious and he believed it was his destiny, thanks to the Gods. He wanted to honour Woden properly, so Hengist took his men back to the white horse. Together they carved out the shape into the chalk hillside for evermore. And so, this is how the White Horse of Kent in Folkestone came to be. But all was not over for Hengist.
Unbeknown to him, Aurelianus Ambrosius and Uther Pendragon were on their way back to their homeland, now grown men, they were well trained and ready to fight. As the brothers landed in Totnes in Devon, their red dragon banners cracking in the breeze, the Britons begged Ambrosius to seize power. ‘No!’ declared Ambrosius, ‘First we must defeat the enemies and take revenge for our brother Constans.’ And so, the brothers headed off. First, they sought out the old King Vortigern and burned down his tower. Then they chased after Hengist and slaughtered him in battle. That was the end of the Saxon rebellion and Ambrosius was made king.
His first act of service was to visit the place where The Night of the Long Knives occurred. It was a bleak and open land, up on the middle of the plains. The wind whipped around and the rain came down. Ambrosius stood on the mound where his fellow Britons had been slayed. Shouting into the wind he declared, ‘I will raise a monument here, to remember all the men who died on this land, trying to bring peace. They will be remembered forevermore.’
Ambrosius brought all the great builders and carpenters to the site and commanded they create the memorial in his mind’s eye. But he was to be disappointed. Nothing measured up. The king’s advisors did not know what to do, except one, the Bishop of Caerleon.
‘There is someone you should meet. He may be the only one who can create your vision.’ Suggested the bishop, ‘His name is Merlin.’
The bishop described the mysterious old man who had once prophesized the end of Vortigern’s reign. Since then, Merlin’s powers had increased and he was known for magic and great wisdom.
Riders were sent off to scour the lands. Far and wide they went, to find the elusive Merlin. But find him they eventually did, sitting by a spring, not twenty miles from the burial site. On hearing the king’s plight, Merlin returned with the riders and they took him to the place on Salisbury Plain, a large mound where the bodies lay.
Merlin looked around him. He observed the open grasslands and watched over at the clumps of woodland. He noted the sky and the clouds and connected to the landscape. And then he declared that what was needed was a large circle of magical stones, bigger than any man, and they would come from a far away land and stand on this spot for the rest of time.
‘We must travel to Ireland.’ Merlin told the king. ‘To Mount Killaurus to take the stones put there by giants; the magical ones who ruled this land many moons ago.’
Although all except Merlin doubted the need to bring large stones from so far away, King Aurelianus sent his brother Uther, Merlin and a band of men to travel over the Irish Sea to The Giant’s Dance. Of course, they met with some resistance because the Irish king did not want his stone circle stolen away. But ultimately, Uther, Merlin and the men won the fight and headed up to The Giant’s Dance. There they were stunned into silence. Rising into the sky on the top of this massive mountain stood a circle of stones bigger than they had ever seen before. Upon two upright stones stood large mantel stones. Huge blue stones surrounded the giant monoliths.
It was believed in the times of the giants that dead spirits were encapsulated within the stones, and that at times they could walk, sing and dance. Perhaps these immense sarsens held the spirits of the giants that walked these lands. The group stood in front of the stones and pondered, however were they to move them. Ropes and hawsers were deployed but the stones wouldn’t budge. Merlin stood back and watched. As the men despaired, Merlin decided to help. He stood in front of the stone circle and raised up his arms to the open skies. Summoning his inner magical powers, he lifted the stones off the ground and levitated them. Walking back down the mountain he strolled, arms aloft, floating the stones along the ground behind him. At the bottom of the hill, he laid them into the boats and the group returned them to Bristol.
When the boats could go no further inland, in the dead of night, Merlin once again raised the stones. Using his most mysterious and magical powers he guided the stones across the plain and left them in a pile on top of the burial mound.
The following morning the king was called for. He attended the site and was dismayed to see a large pile of huge rocks just laying on the ground. The king turned to Merlin in anger. But Merlin was not worried. He held up his finger and urged the king to wait a while. Merlin turned to the stones. Using every last chink of magical energy he had he lifted the stones upright in the air swirling them around the circle, like feathers in the breeze. The king looked on, astonished. Then Merlin set them down, just as they had been on Mount Killaurus, right on top of the burial site of the men slain in The Night of the Long Knives. A huge stone circle unlike anything else the Britons had ever seen before. The site became an important place for people to visit and pay their respects for many years to come. Indeed many of us make long journeys to visit these giant sarsens in our modern times.
A few years later King Ambroius passed on and he requested he be buried at what was known as The Giant’s Dance. When Uther Pendragon, who is King Arthur’s father, later died, he too was laid to rest there. Merlin was offered a place at The Giant’s Dance but he was said to have requested to be buried at Marlborough Mount instead.
So, to this day, magical Stonehenge, as it is now called, stands as a monument throughout the mists of time as testament to a terrible night of violence so very long ago. Made by the magic we no longer possess, when you visit Stonehenge, give a little nod to Merlin, as he was possibly the greatest magician the world has ever seen.
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Credit for main image: Toby Melville/Reuters
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