Dear Mr Cornwell, I've just finished reading 'The Pale Horseman' and, like all your other works, enjoyed it immensely. 'Horseman' was particularly meaningful, however, because I spent the first sixteen years of my life roaming over that part of Devon where much of Uhtred's narrative takes place. I was born in 1936 on a farm near Kenton, just a stone's from Uhtred's estate at Oxton. Another stone's throw the other way, of course, lay the Exe estuary where Heahengel lay rotting - like Leofric, I too spent a fair bit of time up to my knees in the black mud of the estuary shore. Around about 1948/1950 I experienced a curious episode which I thought you might be interested in. My father kept a big old boat at Starcross which had too deep a draught to be handy in the estuary itself but it was a great sea-boat and, in the summer, he often took my brothers and me, off-shore fishing. This particular day we'd been down off Dawlish for several hours, fishing for mackerel, and it was dusk when we entered the river. There was a bit of sea mist around but about a mile up river from Exmouth we could see the hazy shape of a largish vessel, with no lights, hove to just off the channel. As we got nearer, the mist cleared a bit and right there, before us was a Viking long-ship, complete with dragonhead stem and a line of round shields hung from the gunnels. It's well over fifty years but I can still remember the ice-cold shudder that ran through me. I don't know if there's anything to genetic memory but I can tell you that the sight of that long, low, menacing shape was absolutely terrifying - many years later my father and brothers told me they felt the same fear. To cut a long story short, and spoil a good yarn, our ghost dragon ship turned out an authentic replica built somewhere in Scandinavia (I forget just which country) by a group of history enthusiasts who had rowed and sailed their way across the North Sea and were working their way down the coast of Britain visiting all the sites of British/Viking conflicts - sort of a goodwill voyage. There were two watchmen on board and we were invited to inspect the craft. We were told that it had been constructed using no modern tools or materials and precisely to designs derived from archaeological finds. Apparently the vessel was on its way to Exeter but they'd arrived too late to navigate the river - the rest of the crew was ashore in Exmouth buying paraffin for their lights. It's years since I've thought about this incident but 'The Pale Horseman' brought back many memories of Devon to me including this one. I've lived in Australia for many years now, still farming, but I often think of my youth in Devon. I was ill advised enough to return for a visit only once, in the 80s, and conclusively proved Thomas Wolfe right, you can't go home again. One last thing - I seem to recall that the sand spit (the Warren) at the mouth of the Exe, featured in one of your earlier books as well as in 'Horseman' and I wonder if you had some connection with that stretch of sand? Regards, Mike Hodges
That's a terrific story! I think there must be an atavistic terror attached to the longship's shape - I grew up on the Essex coast, all creeks and misted dawns, and it was very easy to imagine the longships creeping in from the sea. And yes, I do have a connection - we lived at Oxton House, just above Kenton, for three years, and we fished endlessly for mackerel. I kept a boat just outside Starcross Harbour (couldn't get her inside because the mast wouldn't go under the railway bridge). I loved that part of Devon - no doubt you, like me, drank at the Anchor? And you're right about the spit of sand (Dawlish Warren) which is the setting for the battle of Camlann at the end of Excalibur. Thank you for a lovely description of a Viking ship!