Rebekah in Cornwall
by Kate Everson
Smashwords edition
Copyright 2011 Kate Everson
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Rebekah was on the hunt for King Arthur.
She had heard he was born in Tintagel, in Cornwall, the southwest of England, and that seemed as good a place as any to start.
“A legend or a truth?” she wondered, but her heart knew there was a hero somewhere. She just had to find it.
She found the cliffs amazing, with the ocean pounding against the rocks and the weather so sunny with tropical plants growing everywhere. It was a perfect paradise for a king to be born in.
The seaside town of Tintagel was now a touristy place, but she loved it anyway. To her delight there was a building dedicated to Arthur and everything Arthurian. She visited that first.
It was called King Arthur’s Great Halls and it had all kinds of things like swords, round tables, king’s chair, coats of arms and paintings of his legends. Rebekah smiled in delight. This was as close to Arthur as she was likely to get.
Inside the hall she could even sit in the chair of Arthur, and watch as the lights shone on each display, while a booming voice explained its significance. Then she moved into the next room and found even more to excite her. Swords! And best of all, the illuminated coats of arms of the knights of the round table. They shone like a dream.
Under each one was an explanation of what this symbol meant. Each represented a different knight or was directly from King Arthur.
After a tour of the halls, Rebekah went out to the seaside location of Arthur’s reputed birth castle, a steep walk along the cliff.
It looked just like the place a king would be born! Dangerous and exciting!
But Rebekah wanted more and she wandered throughout the countryside not knowing quite what she was looking for, but finding many interesting things along the way, like the lovely wild ponies of Dartmoor.
She got as close to the ponies as she could, but the mothers staunchly defended their colts. Still, they were gorgeous to look at, so wild and free, with the wind blowing through their manes and having all that range to run.
“I wish I were as free as that!” she laughed.
Rebekah followed the coastline along to the island of St. Michael’s Mount where she got a boat ride out to the castle and followed the tourists through the maze of centuries old furnishings and wall hangings. There was plenty to see and she was exhausted before she got half way through.
But it was all part of the journey, and Rebekah loved every minute of it. St. Michael’s was on the Michael-Mary leyline, the energy lines beneath the earth that stretched to London from here. She had heard about people following that line to create energy in their own psyche and to follow the ancient pathways.
But there was energy everywhere in this land and she felt it wherever she went.
“Living here would be amazing,” she dreamed, but knew she only had ten days, not nearly enough time to see half the things she wanted.
Lanyon Quoit and Trevethy Quoit both were ancient stone formations she found quite remarkable. Erected thousands of years ago to mark now lost burial mounds for the dead, they remained strong and noble. She could feel the energy there.
Another special stone formation was at Men An Tol, where a stone made a circle you could crawl through. There were legends that it took away rickets from children or the crick in your back if you were old!
She checked it out, but somehow it gave her a crick in her back! Maybe she needed to go the other way!
Rebekah couldn’t get enough of this land, and even found a place called Roche Rock where a chapel had been built inside the cliffs dedicated to St. Michael in 1409. It was fun to climb up there and peer down at the rocky countryside with purple heather growing out of the ground.
But Rebekah was on the lookout for Arthur, and she felt like he must be around here somewhere. She ended up back in Tintagel and had another look around. The secret must be hidden in those cliffs.
She wandered along the seaside and walked to the parish church. There were Celtic crosses on the grounds and it felt like a spirit of peace was definitely there. Maybe it wasn’t all about Arthur the conquering hero after all. Maybe it was about her own inner spirit.
Rebekah had always loved Celtic symbols, and the cross took her on an inner journey that seemed so near and dear to her.
Was she alive then? Whenever that was, she must have been there because everything about it resonated with her being. In fact, when she looked at the coats of arms inside the Arthur Halls, the ones that meant the most to her had crosses in them, or dragons and lions.
It was amazing how it spoke to her. She did not know what that meant, but something stirred deep inside.
“Maybe I was a Celt, or an ancient Briton long ago,” she mused.
She loved visiting ancient churches, like St. Piran’s chapel and holy well. She went inside and stood at the front, imagining what it must have been like so long ago. Ah, to have lived in those days…
Rebekah walked up the trail to St. Nectan’s Glen where a waterfall was said to be a place of spiritual significance. She was so tired she could barely make it up the muddy slopes and stopped several times to rest and put her feet in the stream.
At one point she stopped and talked to a tree.
“You are so strong,” she said. “Please, give me some of your strength so I can make it up this hill.”
And she put her hand on the tree and it gave her strength.
The mossy tree trunk felt cool on her hand, and it send energy through her whole body. She thanked the solid, beautiful tree for that blessing.
“I have always loved trees,” she thought. “Nature has a way of rejuvenating me. It feels like a part of my soul.”
She made it up to the waterfall, and was glad to take that last step.
“Thanks to the trees and the stream and the spirit of All that is,” she said.
The waterfall was delightful and Rebekah walked in the waters and loved their refreshing coolness. Many others had gone before and left little offerings in the trees and stones along the side of the stream.
“The water of life,” Rebekah thought.
It reminded her of a painting of Arthur in the Hall in Tintagel where he was calling out to the gods to help him, to give him inspiration and strength.
“We are all the same,” Rebekah thought. “We all need help from a higher power, whether it is in a tree, a stream or the sky above, or any of the gods we might call upon. We need to find that strength and claim it as our own.”
Rebekah thought about those first Celtic saints in the early years of Christianity when they had to mark a place of hope throughout the land and in people’s hearts. They led the way for others to follow.
“Saints, sinners, we all need hope,” she smiled.
And she left this mystical land with a feeling of lightness and a sense of peace from connecting to her ancient past.
“I am my own Arthur,” she thought. “I can be the hero I need to find. It is all within.”
* * The End * *
Read more about Rebekah’s journeys at Rebekah in Ireland and Rebekah in Wales .