I went on a 100-mile English pilgrimage for a king I’d barely heard of

I shouldn’t tell you about the egg – a large ovoid of limestone laid incongruously in the outer Cotswolds. Ideally you’d happen upon it yourselves. But since I have mentioned it...

The egg sits on a bridleway at the meeting of walls, half concealed behind a tree, by fields of swallow-skimmed wheat. It was made in traditional dry-stone style by the villagers of Norton and Foxley to mark the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee. Slowworms lurk nearby. A time capsule was buried inside. Next to it a plaque quotes Roald Dahl: “The greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places”.

I discovered the egg on day one of my hike in north Wiltshire, and passed it again on day two, when it was like greeting an old friend. My walk was for an under-sung king. But it’s amazing what else you find if you slow down and look.

The 100-mile Athelstan Pilgrim Way (APW) launched over the summer to link the 36 churches of the North Wiltshire Deanery. So far two interconnecting loops have been created, with four more to come. It’s named for the tenth-century monarch who became the first to rule a united England, but who remains relatively unknown. Tom Holland, historian and APW patron, is a huge fan; when Holland’s Rest is History podcast conducted a World Cup of Kings and Queens, Athelstan was the victor.

“We’re not claiming we’ve discovered some secret ancient route that Athelstan walked, since most of the churches didn’t exist when he was around,” explained Rev Steve Wilkinson, Area Dean of North Wiltshire and part of the team behind the new trail. “But many of them do stand on sites that the Anglo-Saxons used for worship, so this is about visiting some places that Athelstan likely knew.”

Athelstan spent a large proportion of his time in this strategic area, on the border of Mercia and Wessex – two kingdoms he brought together. He had a palace at Brokenborough (exact location unknown) and chose to be buried in Malmesbury Abbey – again, location unknown: his tomb was mislaid when the current abbey was built on the old one, in 1180. But still, the town has spent 2024 celebrating the 1,100th anniversary of Athelstan becoming king in 924.

Athelstan – pious, serious, scholarly, socially conscious – was himself a pilgrim. So it’s fitting that this route bears his name. “People seem to be searching for something, a connection, or something deeper,” added Wilkinson. “The broad aim of the Athelstan Pilgrim Way is to encourage people to visit our churches for a variety of reasons – as places of worship, as places of architectural beauty, as peaceful places to get away from the busyness of life.”

So here I was, driven by a king I barely knew, churches I knew even less, but a desire to roam a quieter pocket of the Cotswolds to see what else I might find.

I started with the 20-mile Gauzebrook loop; I walked it in one, but it is also broken into nine manageable stages. I was alone but for my pilgrim passport – there are stamps in every church – and the APW’s companion book, which was a bit like having a friend along for the walk.

A silent friend, that is. This world felt so quiet, older somehow. Walking lanes, byways and field edges to enter churches with thick walls, the sounds were largely creaking hinges and breezes rattling corn. At Easton Grey, the church hid behind trees, almost as hard to spot as the nearby Roman town, now buried under tangled blackberries. Then there was Bremilham, England’s smallest active church – barely four square metres, it squats in the middle of a farmyard. Inside, it’s a simplicity of bare plaster, one pew, a cross on the sill; my guidebook asked: “What more does one truly need?”

In contrast, there was all sorts going on at St Giles in Stanton St Quintin. The inside of the church has been modernised (which meant a handy toilet). But the living graveyard was nurturing knapweed, scabious and bedstraw, while the exterior walls bore carvings of St Christopher, Christ vanquishing a serpent and a rare sheela na gig: after much staring at the Norman tower, this small figure – naked, legs spread – finally appeared, like a magic-eye image.

The day unfurled thus: hedgerows and headstones. I’m not a religious person, but it felt like a cleanse. By the end of the loop my mind – which had spent the day meandering between deep past and very present – was pleasingly stilled.

Almost exactly at the point where the two APW loops overlap sits Whatley Manor, an 18th-century farm turned glowing country house hotel amid landscaped gardens and dipping Cotswolds. It’s not your typical pilgrim accommodation, but it is fit for a king. I hung my smelly socks from my suite’s mullioned windows and revived my feet on the velvet-soft lawn.

Whatley certainly exuded a peacefulness of which the pilgrim would approve. And even aspects of my Michelin-starred dinner at least nodded to humbler roots. That evening I sampled Whatley’s new dining menu – an austere three courses, as opposed to the regular seven – which starts with a “kitchen experience”. Watching the team chopping and prepping, I was encouraged to ask questions, and then given a shot of pale ale and a delicate choux sprinkled with Parmesan, onion and pancetta – an amuse-bouche dreamt up when the chef was down the pub eating cheese and onion crisps.

On day two, the 13-mile Malmesbury & Upper Avon circuit returned me to the egg, where the previous day’s gulp of swallows had been replaced by mewling buzzards. It also took me to new places, though I had less luck with the churches: three were locked. However, at hilltop Brokenborough I did as Rev Wilkinson had suggested – “stand near the church porch and look around imaginatively” – gazing across the Avon toward the Fosse Way, wondering where Athelstan’s palace might have been. I also found the tomb in the churchyard where, two centuries ago, when jobs were threatened by increased mechanisation, rebellious farm workers hid the tools they used to sabotage the newfangled machines.

I followed a stretch of the Fosse myself, Roman legionnaires replaced by a lady clip-clopping on horseback (which felt appropriate) checking her mobile phone (less so). More atmospheric were the twisted oaks forming a fairy-tale tunnel alongside King’s Heath, a tract of common land given to the people of Malmesbury by Athelstan. A bench implored me to “sit yer”, so I did, watching the first autumn-hinting leaves float to the ground.

Eventually I reached Malmesbury itself, a fine market town sitting on a river-bend hillock, abbey ruins at its apex. Athelstan was everywhere: on banners and bunting hung for the celebrations; in the names of businesses and housing estates. But the abbey is ground zero. I walked through its exquisite south entrance, under concentric arches carved with a phantasmagoria of biblical tales. Then I headed for Athelstan’s tomb-like memorial, in the north aisle. It was built in the 14th century, possibly as an attempt by the then-abbot to promote Athelstan as a saint and encourage pilgrimage. The stonework is now worse for wear: the nose rubbed smooth, the crown damaged (Athelstan was the first king to have worn a crown rather than a helmet). But still, 700-odd years on, mission accomplished.

Guides for the Athelstan Pilgrim Way are downloadable from the website (athelstanpilgrimway.org); donations are appreciated. Physical copies (£4 each), as well as children’s guides (£3 each), pilgrim passports (free) and the companion guide Past, Present, Presence by Carole Britton (£15) can be purchased at Malmesbury Abbey. Whatley Manor (01666 822888) has doubles from £429 B&B. The A La Carte Dining Room Menu costs £120pp.