Stone Circles have always been special places in my life. I played in one as a child. I would lie on my back at its heart and try to imagine the people who made it. I have visited many Stone Circles throughout the United Kingdom, including Stonehenge, but the Circle that made the greatest impact on me is Avebury.
Avebury is a people’s Circle. A village has grown up within its stones; you can walk around them, pat them and picnic beside them. Ceremonies are held there, and while I am sure that they are different ceremonies from those devised by the builders of the Circle, they give a sense of continuity and familiarity that is missing from many prehistoric monuments. This Stone Circle is not just an amazing monument from the past; it is part of people’s lives. People still tell stories about the stones. One is supposed to spin on its axis at midnight on New Year’s Eve. Another has a ledge-like seat; if you sit on it, the devil is supposed to get you!
The setting of Dance of the Stones uses many features I discovered in the Avebury area. The Circle nestles in the heart of a massive area recognized as a “sacred landscape” by English Heritage. The area encompasses not only Avebury and Stonehenge, but also many other ancient sites including several important neolithic barrows, hill forts and puzzling Silbury Hill.
Dance of the Stones is a fantasy, as is my explanation of the name Avebury and my descriptions of the use of the Circle. The raising of the final stone in the story happened purely in my imagination. I am not a historical scholar; however, I based it on my interpretation of clues I found in the Avebury museums. Archeologists uncovered a pile of antler picks and scapula shovels in the bottom of the great ditch. Why were they abandoned there? I give my own explanation. The characters of Hewll and Ulwin are based on what I understand of the latest interpretation of neolithic people. I set the raising of the stone in winter because I think people without many tools would harness the elements to help, and moving a monolith over frozen ground made sense to me, though it meant the pit would have to be prepared in summer or fall. As it would take some time to dig a pit with bone tools, again this made sense.
My description of the “night of destruction” is only loosely based on facts. There was indeed a man known as the Barber Surgeon who may have helped topple the stones. He was crushed when one fell on him. His remains were found by archeologists. There are records of attempts to burn the stones and then fracture them by tossing cold water on the hot surface. I set the scene at Christmas because it is a time when feelings would run high between opposing religions, and also to show a continuity of traditions that we associate with Christianity, but which are absorbed from origins much older. The Boar’s Head Carol (associated with Oxford University, not far from Avebury) reflects the pre-Christian sacrificial meal of an animal both hated and revered for its fierceness and fearlessness. Carols themselves originally were circle dances, not just songs, and one of the old names for a Stone Circle is a “dance.”
The contemporary naming day ceremony happened only in my imagination, and the people involved are fictional. However, I found a recent description of a Maypole dance held in the Circle and was told of modern naming and bonding ceremonies held there. The feast days and holy days of the “old religion” are regularly observed at Avebury by the current Keeper of the Stones and believers.
The upper parts of the River Kennet still disappear during the winter and reappear each spring. The scientific explanation involves the gradual emptying of a natural underground reservoir during the summer and its refilling during the winter rains, but the magical symbolism of death and rebirth still resonates.
Avebury Circle is interpreted by some archeologists as a place of celebration, in particular to symbolize the circle of life and death. Archeological remains seem to point to both harvest celebrations and funeral celebrations being held there. That is why I chose similar themes in my story.
I walked the Avenue toward the site of the Sanctuary, and the sense of grandeur present between the stones almost overwhelmed me. Little remains at the Sanctuary except an atmosphere of peace and a maze of concrete blocks marking post-holes, but current thought explores the idea that the sanctuary building was circular and open in the middle, like a donut.
Almost nothing remains of the second avenue (currently known as Beckhampton Avenue), and it seems to lead nowhere, so I took the liberty of using it as a ceremonial entrance for the stones themselves.
Silbury Hill remains a mystery. Tunnels and excavations have uncovered no tombs, not even that of King Sel, whom folklore links with the hill. But as I wrote the chapter in which Sel rides in a spiral to the summit, a friend sent me a newspaper clipping with the result of the latest dig — archeologists had uncovered traces of a spiral pathway to the summit!
As for the oak tree, it’s always been known as a strong, long-lived, magical tree. This is reflected in English folklore and song, and English people are said to have hearts of oak.
Chantel, Adam, Holly and Owen will continue their quest through mystical England in Book Three, The Heart of the Hill.
Andrea Spalding