I’ve walked only a short way along the small, winding lane leading to Llanthony Priory, but the air is fresher, the noise of the main road ebbs away and I have a strange but not unpleasant feeling that I am passing into a different world. Unusually for this part of the country, this valley, which is peppered with gorse, hawthorn and bracken, was cut by a glacier, so its walls are high and steep. There is little but sheep here; the Vale of Ewyas is remote and wild with a distinct lack of civilisation, something that has attracted visitors for centuries.
One such visitor, a knight called William de Lacy (related to the wealthy Norman landowner family), came here in the early 12th century, so one story goes. In William’s time and right up until the second world war, the valley was densely wooded. De Lacy became lost in the swampy forest and, struggling to find his way, he chanced upon a small, sixth-century ruined chapel, said to be the hermitage of Saint David, the patron saint of Wales. Legend has it that the experience moved De Lacy so much, he renounced his sinful ways and took up a life of prayer and contemplation, choosing to remain in his armour for the rest of his life to “harden himself from temptation of the devil”.
