alternatehistory.com

OOC: I Realllllly Enjoyed writing the first one of these, so here is more prose. Alex Richards will probably school me on my Geography of OTL Durham

Prose.

Twelfth day, sixth moon. Seven fourty seven


Today I arrived in Dunholm, capital of Angland. It was pleasing to look back and realise I’d walked from the southern border of this nation, born within my father’s lifetime and Dunholm is a monument to its power and a statement to its intent. I’m told, repeatedly while I’m here for the locals are very proud of their city, that Dunholm was little more than a gathering of farms and a small chapel before it was chosen by King Aethelfrith of Northumbria as the site of his new palace. The city is atop a hill surrounded on three sides by the river wear and the fourth by a stone wall. I approached the city over St Oswine’s bridge, named for the old Northumbrian king and climb up past streets of wooden buildings, tightly packed by necessity of space.


My first destination on arriving was the main chapel within the walls of Dunholm Abbey. I pass the stone castle, which stands out amongst the mostly wooden buildings of the city and is surrounded by an inner wall. The first thing I notice about Dunholm Abbey is that the confines of the wear limit its size relative to the main chapel, which means that though the chapel is bigger than that at Glecaster, the abbey as a whole is far smaller and I figure given its proximity to the Holy Isle of Lindisfarne, many monks live here and travel here for festivals and occasions. The walls are tall and the gate quite ornate, clearly blessed by royal money, large wooden panels painted with images of saints and kings, or in the case of some, both. I noticed Saint Oswald the Great and Saint Peter were watching me as I passed through.



Once inside the Abbey it seemed like Glecaster but with different proportions. There were familiar buildings like Monks Quarters, squat timber buildings with thatched roofs, kitchens where food for monks and the needy is cooked, only distinguished by their stone chimneys. At the center was the large stone chapel. Large oak doors at one end led you into the long building and at its far end was the altar, decorated with gold and silver items like candlesticks, plates and crucifixes. Behind the altar was a carving of Christ on the cross and as I approached it I could see saints looking down at me from paintings on wooden panels that stood between regular windows. The saints were a mix of local saints and those seen in scripture. Amongst the scenes and trappings I not only felt the power of god but the power of the Anglish church and not just how far it had come but what it aspired to be. Here I could see that perhaps it could be a rival to Rome or Constantinople, with time, and faith and this was not even yet the center of the church, but it would be.