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| Where was Hengestesdun? |
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Page 3 of 3 To the West Saxons in 838, the vast wilderness of Dartmoor would have been unknown and probably greatly feared territory. Its northern and eastern edges, though, were likely to have been well scouted and explored, with some features visible from Saxon-held territory being given Anglo-Saxon names such as Hengestesdun. It is noticeable that the Anglo-Saxon Chronicles firmly name “Hengestesdun”, rather than “the place that is called Hengestesdun”, as though it was a familiar place. It is surely also the case that no location so deep in unknown Cornish territory as the Callington Hingston Down could have been given a Saxon name at that time. Bearing that in mind, plus the comparative times and distances in travel between the Cornu-Viking force and Ecgberht’s army in mind (the latter to include the transport of the initial intelligence), we must be looking for a site much further to the east. Is there such a place? The answer is yes. The trackway across Dartmoor from Plymouth to Exeter begins to descend from the moor close to Moretonhampstead and a mile east of that village is a hill spur bearing the name of Hingston Down. This spot lies ten miles from both Exeter and Crediton and both this site and the Cornish one were recorded as Hengesdon (presumably Old English hengestes dun or stallion’s hill) a few years either side of 1300. The Moretonhampstead Hingston Down is surely a far more likely location for Hengestesdun. It does not, however, lend itself well to being the site of a pre-planned battle. It is, though, a perfect place for Ecgberht to have lain in wait, with his army concealed in the thickly wooded Teign valley, or in the spur valleys below the hill and then to have launched an ambush. On approaching from the southwest, the Cornish-Viking army would not have had a hope of catching a glimpse of them until it was too late. From Ecgberht’s point of view, had it gone wrong, retreat to Exeter would have been an easy option. For him, though, it didn’t go wrong. “He put to flight both the Wealas and the Danes”, evidently back across the wilds of Dartmoor where the West Saxon forces had more sense than to follow. This proposal is perhaps the first time that the site of Hengestesdun has ever been questioned and, with so little to go on, the jury must remain out. The writer invites any comment or further suggestion on the subject. Other questions emerge from this whole event. Who acted as interpreters between the Celtic-speaking Cornish and their Nordic-speaking allies? Who carried the news to Ecgberht? I can offer no real suggestion to the first question. As far as the second is concerned, the Danish arrival and alliance might have been witnessed by a West Saxon fishing boat but perhaps a more likely suspect would be a priest who could have overheard the plans, and Canterbury was then appointing many Saxon priests to Cornish churches. It seems to have been the case that, during this period of history, both Celtic and Saxon priests could travel where they pleased without fear of molestation, in the same way that the bards of old were guaranteed safe passage throughout the kingdoms of Britain. The scanty sources of this kind of historical information give us very little in the way of fact. Modern and recent historians, though, have seen fit to project those sources into flights of pure fantasy, and to present those fanciful conclusions as “fact”. This has especially been the case where early Cornish history is concerned and I hope to follow this article in a future issue with examples of this “twisted history” (or “twistory” as I call it). Craig Weatherhill 2007 |
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