Nearly at the nineteenth milestone there is another mile-castle. It is just where the hawthorn hedge on the left stops, and a fine row of beeches begins to shadow the road. How welcome their shade was! The view to the south from this spot was glorious. And gorse again! The Vallum was a "Field of the Cloth of Gold," seen against the blue background of the hills to the south of the Tyne.
A little farther on, at St. Oswald's Hill Head, a centurial stone is to be seen, built into the farm-house, on the extreme right, high up near the eaves. It is blacker than the other stones, and not easy to find without directions. The patient daughter of the house saw me, from the window, looking for it, and came out to point to the right one, a kind office she must often have to perform during the summer months.
On a little hill to the north of the road is St. Oswald's Church, supposed to be built on the very spot where Oswald, the Christian king of Bernicia, set up a wooden cross before meeting in battle the Welsh king, Caedwallon, in 635. Bede tells us the story. Holding the cross with both his hands while the earth was thrown in to set it fast, the King cried to his army: "Let us all kneel and jointly beseech the true and living God Almighty, in His mercy to defend us from the haughty and fierce enemy, for He knows we have undertaken a just war for the safety of our nation."
This speech might be taken word for word from a modern newspaper's report of an appeal from the pulpit during the recent war.
Though Oswald had but a small army compared with that of his enemy, yet he won a complete victory.
Bede goes on to say:
"The place in the English tongue is called Heavenfield, or the Heavenly Field, which name it formerly received as a presage of what was afterwards to happen, denoting that there the heavenly trophy would be erected, the heavenly victory begun, and heavenly miracles wrought to this day.
"The same place is near the Wall with which the Romans formerly enclosed the islands from sea to sea, to restrain the fury of the barbarous nations, as has been said before."
The little church presents a very modern appearance now, and there is no necessity to ask for the key, for the whole interior is revealed at a glance—through one window.
As I climbed the hilly field in which it stands, a mother and three children were toiling on ahead of me, three chubby children, with bunches of bluebells, and campions, and buttercups flagging in their hot little hands. They had walked some miles, I found, to lay these wild flowers on a grave behind the church—one of the many customs which we are apt to forget we derive from ancient Rome.