Where a Danish hero met his end

This apparent accident of geography occurred some years after the death of St Cuthbert (AD 687) because it was at Crayke that his body was for a time hidden from Danish invaders.

Every place his body rested during its flight from the invaders, more than a century after his death, became part of the Palatine County of Durham and Crayke was only formally restored to the North Riding of Yorkshire in 1844. This was achieved by an Act of Parliament.

St Cuthbert's links with Crayke are well documented, but the village is the focus of another tale which is a major part of Scandinavian folklore.

The tale also dates to a period soon after Cuthbert's death, probably the eighth or ninth century. At the time, a castle existed on the hill at Crayke. It was on the site occupied by the present castle, the village then being within the Saxon kingdom of Deira.

The King of Northumbria, Aella, lived in this fortress-like place for a time, converting it to his own needs. His alterations included some fearsome underground dungeons.

At this time, there was a feared and famous king who lived on the Danish islands. His name was Ragnar Lodbrok and he features widely in Scandinavian folklore, where he is depicted as a brave, upstanding and conquering hero.

His Queen, Austaga, was a shepherdess known for her beauty and singing ability. She had worked in the mountains of Norway before winning the heart of this famous king.

Our story features Ragnar, but it is slightly complicated by the fact there were two Danish kings of that name. One died in AD 794 and the other led invasions to France and England during the ninth century.

It is not certain which Ragnar decided to invade England at the time of our story, but it is known that he equipped himself with an army and two superb warships, the finest in Denmark.

Ragnar landed on the Northumbrian coast near Bamburgh and, because King Aella was near York, the Danish invaders killed, raped and looted in Northumbria without hindrance.

But Aella eventually heard of the massacres and devastation. He quickly recruited an army and headed north to confront Ragnar and his men.

The outcome was decisive. The Danes were soundly beaten, but Ragnar was not killed. He was captured alive and many said this was worse than death because Aella was renowned for his cruelty.

He had no compassion for his enemies and no respect for the royal rank of his captive. He took Ragnar to his castle at Crayke and decided to make an example of him. His plan was to make Ragnar suffer so much that no Viking or Northman would ever dare to invade Northumbria again.

The story is that, deep within Crayke Castle, there was a particularly deep and evil dungeon. It was black and damp and filled with poisonous snakes and reptiles.

Aella kept this dungeon especially to deal with his enemies, torturing them until they died.

The only entrance was a hole in the top through which prisoners were lowered by rope. This was secured to an iron ring at the top so that prisoners could be hauled up and lowered again to the amusement of the gloating Aella.

Like others before him, Ragnar was stripped naked, then had his hands and feet lashed together before being lowered into the dark, windowless hole to spend his time among the snakes and reptiles.

We do not know how long he remained, although he was lifted and lowered repeatedly for the entertainment of his captor.

Ragnar's torture continued because he refused to beg for mercy, nor did he capitulate to Aella. Instead, each time he was hauled to the surface he cursed Aella and threatened to get even with him when he was free.

But he was growing weaker by the day, now suffering from a lack of sleep, a lack of food and several severe bites.

Aella realised he could not break the will of this man, so he dragged him to the surface one last time and told him to beg for mercy.

Ragnar refused and replied: "Aella, upon my death my kinsmen shall sail from Denmark, they will slay you and your subjects, they will avenge my death in a most horrible manner, and at the tables in the banqueting halls of Valhalla, they shall drink a toast to Odin from your skull!"

He was lowered a final time and died a horrible death among the snakes and reptiles.

His death song, Lodbrokar-quida, became a Scandinavian epic. He was famed as a brave warrior and king, but his three sons sailed to avenge his death, laying siege to York and slaying Aella and his allies.

Here in England, this story is almost forgotten, but it is one of Scandinavia's most famous legends.

Among the summer visitors to our garden was a hedgehog. In broad daylight one lunchtime, we noticed him squatting on the steps near the greenhouse. When I approached, he did not run away or curl into that familiar spiked ball, but remained very still indeed while contemplating me.

I wondered if he was ill because he looked so lethargic, but there was no sign of injury and he ignored a saucer of water we placed nearby. After half an hour or so, he vanished among the shrubs and flowers.

I did not attempt to locate him, knowing that a hedgehog is a wonderful asset to a garden because it consumes all manner of pests such as slugs, caterpillars and beetles.

I felt sure this one would find sufficient food in our modest plot and so my wife and I settled down to make our new guest feel welcome.

We did not see him for several days, nor did we see any sign of his presence in the garden. Then he made another appearance. Again it was lunchtime in broad daylight and he materialised from the undergrowth very close to the point we had first noticed him.

This time, however, he was plodding with some determination across the car-turning area, not finding the going very easy because the ground is covered with gravel.

He made for the boundary fence, clearly anxious to leave our garden for the much larger one next door.

His route was frustrated, however, because some time ago I had lined the base of our dividing fence with wire netting which penetrated a few inches into the ground to prevent rabbits from entering.

For a time he wandered up and down, sniffing and inspecting the barrier. We sat and watched only yards away and our presence did not worry him.

I thought he might head for the open gate, but I don't think his eyesight was sufficiently good for him to see it. As he was making little progress, I decided it was time for a helping hand.

I had no desire to return him to our garden against his wishes, but I thought he would be unhappy next door as our neighbours have a dog which has just produced five pups. He might not have an easy time there, so another home was called for.

The field opposite our house seemed ideal for it is thick with undergrowth of all kinds with lots of hiding places for slumbering hedgehogs, along with some old buildings which might provide both shelter and food.

With gardening gloves on my hands, not really to protect me against his spines but rather to ward off any of the fleas he might be carrying, I approached him.

Obligingly he curled into a tight ball. I scooped him up and bore him into that field. I placed him among some nettles near the roots of a sycamore and waited a few moments, but he did not uncurl to explore his new surrounds.

I left him, and returned an hour later. By then, of course, he had gone. I wondered if he might return to our garden but, since that time, we have not seen him. We can only hope he is enjoying a happy life.

A recent list of the most popular dogs' names places Ben at No.1, followed by Sam and Max. It reminds me of a young woman who called her dog Mrs Robinson.

When asked why, she said she found it embarrassing to say she had to leave parties or work early in order to look after Trixie, but she had no such qualms when she said Mrs Robinson didn't like being left alone for too long