Today is one of my favourite dates in the calendar year, as it marks the beginning of the Reign of Scorpio, the star sign beneath which I was born all those years ago, while it’s also the anniversary of the Battle of Edgehill, which was fought on this day in 1642 at the beginning of England’s three civil wars.
The details of this momentous conflict are interesting enough in and of themselves for those with an interest in pivotal events in British history, but I’ve long been fascinated with the supernatural aspects of this encounter. Over twenty years ago, having read extensively about the battle being repeatedly re-enacted in what is essentially a British version of Ghost Riders in the Sky, I visited the site myself one moonlit October night.
I heard nothing, nor did I see any heavenly re-enactment of a fight, although it would have been very easy to make out cohorts of spectral troopers in the mackerel clouds that rolled low over the hill where I kept watch for a few hours. Nonetheless, not long after midnight, I was graced with one of the most enigmatic and moving scenes I’ve ever witnessed in such circumstances, as for around twenty minutes, I watched a lone horseman all in white as his mount silently walked in a figure of eight pattern in a field a few hundred yards away down the steep hill from where I kept watch. I was so fascinated by the sight of this ghostly vision that, at length, I made my way down the incline to meet and perhaps talk with this lonely visitor, but as I drew closer, the glowing white figures gradually lost their form and melted gently into the moonlight.
One of these fine days, I shall have to write in greater detail about this encounter, the matter of the Phantoms of Edgehill and all the other similar experiences I’ve had over the decades. For now, I just consider myself fantastically lucky to have seen with my own eyes a lingering manifestation of one of the great British mysteries, whatever the true nature of the strange horseman I saw may be.