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The Glowing Warriors of Hellington

Writer's picture: Stacia BriggsStacia Briggs

In the quiet hamlet of Hellington, six miles south-east of Norwich, tales of ghostly lights flickering over the common have persisted for generations.  They speak of ancient battles between Vikings and Saxons, the blood of the fallen seeping into the marshy ground, and the spirits of warriors doomed to haunt the landscape where they met their end.


The lights, often seen at dusk, are said to dance and dart across Hellington Common. Described as Will o’ the Wisps—the mysterious flame-like glimmers that lure the unwary to their peril—they are tied to stories of the area's violent past.


Low Common, Hellington. CREDIT: Siofra Connor
Low Common, Hellington. CREDIT: Siofra Connor

Hellington sits just over a mile from Bramerton, a known landing site for Viking raiders. In 866 AD, Viking ships are thought to have arrived at Bramerton, their crews possibly stopping at Woods End Common before advancing inland. In 1004 AD, Sweyn Forkbeard, the formidable King of the Danes, followed a similar route when his forces laid waste to Norwich.


Forkbeard was a ruthless warrior, waging a brutal campaign against England. On Christmas Day 1013, he was crowned King of England—a title he held for just 40 days before his sudden and mysterious death. Some say he was struck down by an unknown assassin; others claim divine retribution in the form of East Anglia’s patron saint, Edmund.


St. Edmund's own story is steeped in blood and legend: he ascended to the throne before 865 AD, clashing with invading Danes, and met his death in the winter of 869. Accounts of his martyrdom vary: some say he died in battle, while others recount how he refused to renounce his Christianity and was tied to a tree, shot full of arrows, and beheaded.


The tale then takes a miraculous turn: Edmund’s followers discovered his body but were unable to find his head—until they heard the mournful howls of a wolf guarding it. 

When the head and body were reunited, they fused together, leaving only a faint scar. This marked the first of Edmund’s miracles and cemented his sainthood.

St Edmund. CREDIT: The Morgan Library and Museum
St Edmund. CREDIT: The Morgan Library and Museum

Some theorists suggest that Hellington was the site of Edmund’s death, pointing to the Domesday Book's name for the area: Halgatuna, a name they link to Hægelisdun, the recorded yet undiscovered location of Edmund’s final stand. Could the ghostly lights of Hellington Common be the spirits of Edmund and his fallen warriors, their eternal vigil illuminating the marshes?


Those who claim to have seen these spectral lights describe them as eerily similar to Norfolk’s Lantern Men, ghostly figures said to patrol the Broads. Stories of Will o’ the Wisps abound in Norfolk folklore, from the tragic tale of Joseph Bexfield, lured to his death by “death lights,” to the Lantern Man of Alderfen Broad, who terrorized travellers with his glowing menace.


Folklore tells of Will, the Lantern Man, or Jack o’ Lantern, leading travellers astray with his flickering light, luring them into the treacherous marshes to their doom. One anonymous correspondent to a national newspaper in the mid-1800s described Norfolk’s Lantern Men as anything but benign:


"It is popularly believed that if a man with a lighted lantern goes near one, the enraged Lantern Man will knock him down and burst his lantern to pieces. More than one labourer has assured me that such a thing has happened to himself."


Modern science has since stripped away much of the romance and terror. The “ghost lights” are believed to result from the decay of organic matter, producing a cold flame through the oxidation of hydrogen phosphide and methane gas.

A mirage in a marsh. Coloured wood engraving by C. Whymper. CREDIT: Wellcome Collection
A mirage in a marsh. Coloured wood engraving by C. Whymper. CREDIT: Wellcome Collection

But folklore expert Jennifer Westwood offered a more evocative explanation in her lifetime:

"In Britain, he was often known as Will o’ the Wisp, a sprite more mischievous than malicious, carrying a burning wisp of tarred straw. In Norfolk, however, the Lantern Man was neither small nor sprightly but full-size, physically aggressive, and extremely dangerous."


The lights at Hellington may be no more than cold flames born of marsh gas, but their stories burn bright, drawing on centuries of history, myth, and imagination. And as the dusk deepens on the common, it’s easy to wonder whether the lights truly are natural—or whether the spirits of warriors long gone still roam the valley, their battles replayed in fire and shadow.


Don’t stray too far.

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