The secrets of a Saxon church (From Gazette & Herald)

The secrets of a Saxon church

I ALWAYS enjoy a walk to Ellerburn Church, just a mile up the Dalby valley, north of Thornton-le-Dale. To me, it looks entirely Saxon, simple, homely, with its funny little square tower.

But last summer, there with the U3A local history group, in a talk given to us by the vicar of this and several other parishes, I learned that the present building is not in fact as old as that, though it did originate in Saxon times.

About 650AD, sent out from Whitby Abbey by Hilda, its first Abbess, missionaries came here to preach the gospel. A little wooden church would then be built, and a wooden cross set up. Both would have been replaced by stone in due course.

At this point the vicar took us to the little porch (which does look very Saxon, but was not built until 1904) to show us the head of the cross, now built into the wall.

It is carved with interlocking circles, in the Saxon style, and is a piece of a very early cross, not the first stone one perhaps, but thought to date back to at least the ninth century.

By then the Vikings had come raiding, destroying many a Saxon church. But those Vikings who settled, as many did, were quickly converted to Christianity, and their carving is often difficult to differentiate, and is usually classed as 'Anglo-Norse'.

Such are several other stones to be seen in the porch wall - two 'Hog's backs', and a ring-carved head with a kilted figure, probably intended for Christ.

Further along on the South wall itself, we were shown a serpent (typical Norse device) an inlaid rope pattern (section of column) a stone carved with a crude head, and an unmistakable rabbit - perhaps a symbol of Easter?

Round the back of the church are more cross heads. And on the East wall we were shown stones marked with semi-circles and crosses, perhaps from above the old entrance. Most interesting of all was a running deer, quite clear and life-like, when you know where to look.

It was in 1904, when the present porch and the lychgate were built, and the level of the ground very much lowered, that most of these old stones were found, together with the original stone altar, now in use.

Next the vicar took us into the interior, telling us that some rough looking, out of place stones in the North wall, opposite the entrance, had been moved there at some time.

There was once a 'devil's door'. He did not explain the term, but I have read that in the past 'unbelievers' were expected to enter by a separate way. This devil's door had long since been blocked.

There used to be two other little doors, he said, both at the east end. Both, it seemed, had been for use by the priest.

The one on the north was blocked when the 1904 alterations were done, and the vestry and a boiler room were constructed. He gave no date to a little story he told us about it.

Once upon a time, he said, a man in the parish had killed or badly injured a fellow parishioner. Relatives of the victim came on Christmas day to kill him in revenge. The priest met them outside, and pleaded with them not to commit such a sacrilege, especially on a Christmas day.

They would not heed him, but he did manage to delay them at the door long enough for their quarry to escape by a little priest's door in the chancel, and then make his way cross-country to Pickering Castle - about two miles I think, and pretty rough going.

The other door in the south wall was for the convenience of later parsons, who were housed in a cottage nearby. One person (again no date given) objected to the dwelling - 'Only fit for a labourer' said the vicar, in a funny, prissy sort of voice that gently mocked at the man's snobbery. The parson got his way, and this door too was blocked up.

Returning to the body of the church, the vicar paused at the arch into the chancel, pointing out its two homely pillars, carved with spirals top and bottom, meant for ammonites.

I had always believed these to be actually carved in Saxon times, in token of Abbess Hilda, of whom legend tells she turned snakes at Whitby Abbey into stone, flinging them over the cliff, where they can be found to this day.

But now I learned that, though certainly meant in memory of Saint Hilda, they were done at a later date.

I did not properly hear the story he had to tell about the pulpit, but understood that at one time a church warden had kept his poultry in it!

It could surely not have housed many chickens? But maybe he only had three or four.

Ellerburn has been much in the news lately, and not only locally, for the plague of bats. Many churches of course harbour 'bats in the belfry', hence the proverb.

It is in fact the law that they must not be driven away from a church. And as a rule they do no harm, much good indeed, by eating millions of insects.

But these bats are different. They live in the church itself. They are not ordinary, pipistrel bats, but a rare, smaller species, called natterers.

They find Ellerburn a wonderful maternity ward and nursery, where females and their babies can exercise, dropping their urine as they fly.

The smell is awful, parishioners say. Worse, the urine is acid, marking pews, altar, and floor indelibly.

The last time I was there, cleaners just finishing, showed me the spots impossible to polish away. Cleaners are on the verge of going on strike, which would close down the church.

There have been long discussions with official bodies. Ellerburn is now told it can apply for special permission to block out the bats, on condition an alternative nursery can be found for them, for the summer. In winter they can fly away to a cave two miles away.

We can only hope the alternative will soon be found. Any offers?

Updated: 14:30 Wednesday, February 16, 2005