For eighteen years, I have walked up and down Holywell Hill in St Albans without showing the proper curiosity.
Last weekend, following a Ver Valley Walk leaflet with Trisha and Duncan, I was gobsmacked to discover that the eponymous holy well still exists.
In the incongruous depths of a housing estate, there it was. Now all neatly block paved, first appearances were disappointing. But peering into its depths, there was a magical glimpse of worn brick clothed in harts-tongue fern and emerald moss. Yes, this was old.
At least three legends are associated with the well.
St Alban, Britain’s first Christian martyr in the 3rd century AD may have gasped for a drink there on his way to be executed higher up the hill. God miraculously brought the well into being to answer Alban’s prayers.
Or it may be that following his execution, his severed head rolled down the hill and came to rest here, and the spring flowed miraculously from the ground in response.
Later, King Uther Pendragon, (father of King Arthur) had a great battle with the Saxons in the ruins of the Roman city of Verulamium and healed his wounds here by bathing them in water from this well.
Or, as the Ver Valley leaflet pointed out, maybe the well was just a feature of an eighteenth century garden which once covered this spot.
Pah! I choose to believe the myths and miracles.
And I resolve to keep an eye open for what else I have missed while living in this historic city for eighteen years.
