The following was sent in as a press release (a little amended) by the organiser, Kevan Manwaring. It is posted on this website under articles on Sacrifice, for it seems to me an interesting symbol of sacrifice and, for many, a strong expression of it too. At the end, I have added a few notes of my own. Emma Restall Orr
Hill of the Seven Healing Winds
577 Peace Ceremony
On 5 July 2007 a small group of people gathered at an ancient battlesite to make peace. A simple quiet gesture, but one that was profoundly moving for those who were there, one that was effective in its intent, and one that will send ripples out…
In 577 CE a devastating battle took place at Deorham (Dyrham, just north of Bath, Somerset), which resulted in the death of 3 Celtic kings, and the sundering of the Wessex and Welsh Celts, who were driven into the west by the Saxons: divided and ruled right down to the late 20th Century. The Anglo Saxon Chronicles read:
Cuthwine and Ceawlin fought the Britons, and killed three kings, Conmail, Condidan and Farinmail, in the place called Dyrham. They took three cities: Gloucester, Cirencester and Bath.The idea for the event came about on 13 November 2005 when Kevan Manwaring, a Bard of Bath, visited the area on a walk, and sensed an eerie feel about it. At the time he only knew vaguely of the battle. At its heart, there is a tree-ringed pool, which he thought would be ideal for offerings. Kevan made his own simple gesture at the time, but had the idea then that a larger ceremony needed to take place for it to have real power, to bring about real healing.
Bards share the roles of peacemakers with the Druids and traditionally brought peace with their words and music. As a Chaired Bard of Caer Badon, Kevan proposed that representatives of Welsh and Wessex ‘Celts’, and ‘Saxons’ (eastern groves and gorseddau) gather at the site of the battle (centred around Hinton hillfort) on 5 July 2007 (05.07.07) in symbolic commemoration of the battle of 577.
‘Declarations and oaths of peace could be made,’ Kevan said in the initial invite sent out to all groves, seed-groups, covens and orders, in: ‘A Peaceful Proposal for the Reconciliation of the Celts of South West England and Wales with each other & their Saxon neighbours. For too long the Celts and the Saxons have been sundered. In a world of conflict we should strive for as much harmony and co-operation as possible.’
Emma Restall Orr, Head of The Druid Network, was asked to lead this Peace Ceremony, on behalf of her organisation, Honouring the Ancient Dead (HAD). Representatives of ‘tribes’ across Britain were personally invited, rather than an open invite, when it was decided to limit the numbers to a manageable amount rather than make the event open to the public. In the end 30 representatives were present from a wide cross-section of the British pagan scene: OBOD, The Druid Network, Fianna Brigantia, the Western Order of Druids, Gorsedd of the Bards of Caer Wyse, Gorsedd of the Bards of Caer Badon, Gorsedd of the Grove of Rhiannon and the White Horse, as well as various independent souls. Many others were invited but were unable to make it on the day.
Things fell into place when a Glastonbury-based swordsmith, Tim Harvey, generously offered a Bronze Age replica sword (see photo) – based on one found deposited, ritually broken, in a bog in Ireland. The intention was to do the same.
After over a year and a half of planning the day finally came and participants rendezvoused at The Bull Inn, Hinton, where cars were parked and lunch was ordered. It was a rainy day but that didn’t dampen spirits as, robed and staved, the peacemakers processed up to the hillfort along a winding green lane. Emma awaited for them on the brow of the hill with the sword, silently communing with the ancestors. A circle was made, Kevan welcomed everybody and the ceremony began – simple, direct, powerful and profound. T
he ancestors, spirits of place and elements were honoured. Emma spoke eloquently from the heart about why we had gathered, what the day signified and the ceremony intended to achieve: to remember and honour those who fell that day, on both sides; to ask for healing between all of our ancestors, between us and our ancestors, and between ourselves.
As the celebrants stood there on the bright-dark brow of the hill – the inbetween place, between earth and sky, at the place of severance, the wide Severn Valley which separates England from Wales – it seemed the elements blessed them, each in turn – the wild wind, the soft summer rain, even the sun shone briefly and birds sang their sweet lyric from all around. No more dramatic or resonant a location could have been chosen for this devastating act of sundering (Celt from the Saxon; Logres from Cambria; the blood of kings staining the land) and of healing.
Where swords had wounded, words mended, as the circle was opened for the gorsedd: poems, songs and prayers were offered. At one spine-tingling point David Metcalfe, local storyteller and former field archaeologist, recited a Dark Age poem changed subtly to find relevance to the site and the day, its words rich in the poetry of Middle Welsh. Mark’o Gallaidhe sang a haunting rendition of the Irish ballad, Between the Tweed. Other contributions were just as eloquent.
And then Emma handed over the sword to Rudi, Swanage-based seer, who ritually broke the blade, with a couple of deft strikes with a forging hammer.
The circle was closed and the participants descended to The Bull, to thaw out over a fine lunch.
On the way down the hill Kevan started talking to a couple who had watched the whole ceremony from a distance. It turned out they were local – the man had lived in the area all of his life, and he revealed to us the presence of a chambered tomb and a fascinating local custom involving poorly children being taken up to this place to be healed of whooping cough and other afflictions by the ‘seven magic winds’. He himself had experienced this, and that day perhaps so had we.
The current Bard of Bath, Ash Mandrake, entertained during the lunch, along with another song from Mark’o.
After lunch, a convoy of vehicles set off in the driving rain to the second ritual site – a pool along the Cotswold Way, the other side of the village of Dyrham. Just as we gathered under the oak tree to set off, the rain stopped. We processed along the Way, through rain-soaked fields, led by Sara Lees-Smith, Clan Mother of the Coranieid, head of the Fianna Brigantia, who carried the broken sword (see photo).
People gathered by the side of the pool – surrounded by verdant trees swaying in the wind. Sara spoke a moving prayer and cast in the sword – an immortal moment. Everyone watched in spellbound silence as the ripples circled outwards. The ancestors had received the offering. Others were made – a neck torc, a wrist-torc, a ring. Wise words were spoken about how peace begins in the home, in our own families. And then it was over. We processed back to the cars, in reflective silence. We returned to the everyday world over a cuppa at a local tea shop, before wending our respective ways home, 
each of us carrying the peace we had made within us.
‘This event shows what can be achieved when pagans work together,’ says organiser Kevan Manwaring. ‘It is perhaps more essential than ever in this time of conflict to heal the rifts between us, both ancestral and contemporary; and to honour the different influences that have helped shape this amazing land of ours: from Celtic and Saxon to present day – this land has always been a melting pot and continues to be so. From it has come the English language, a hybrid tongue of a mongrel nation. There are many other sites out there that need similar healing, both past and present battlegrounds. In our little way we have brought healing to this one site, and by doing so found peace within ourselves. I hope others will be inspired to do the same.’
Kevan Manwaring
kevanmanwaring [at] yahoo [dot] co [dot] uk
Photographs all ©Kevan Manwaring 2007
This simple report was written to send out publicly to local media and Pagan press. It says very little of what I felt during the day, along with many others who were present. Before the rite, I had arrived at the hillfort and was given a period of time alone in its presence where, looking out over the landscape I sang to the dead, the spirits of the wind. Very quickly, I found myself shaking, drifting in the songs of the ancestors, feeling and seeing them around me. As the gathering came together and we formed a circle, it was hard to focus on those who stood in flesh and blood, visions and voices moving around and through me.
When Rudi and I held the sword high, I spoke of the violence that we wage in the name of sovereignty, stupidly believing it necessary to claim ownership - with my hand on the blade, feeling its link with every weapon crafted for violence, hearing the sounds of war around us, feeling the pain and confusion. Peace is so easy on a beautiful gentle day; on this 5 July 07 the rain clouds moved over us, wind pulling at our souls, reminding us that beautiful days are not common. Peace: letting go our mortal illusions of need. As the old gods teach us, sovereignty doesn't need to be claimed, should not be claimed or fought for; sovereignty comes with sacred sound relationship. When Rudi struck the blade it rung through him, and when it broke the spirit lifted off like a burst of light. There seemed to be a silence in the wild winds of that hillfort, just for a moment that extended through time, marking the rivers of blood and song.
I couldn't cope with the noise and food of the pub and was pleased to be out again, making our way down to the pool, and there in the stillness I felt it was a good moment to die. Sara spoke words I didn't hear, but as she cast the blade into the waters the dead were around us, their songs, their breath, in the trees and the long grasses of the meadows.
Emma Restall Orr (bobcat)
