The snowdrops in the churchyard of St Peter’s are just starting to wane and, as with snowmelt, reveal patches of green once again. They have seeded themselves freely within and without the low walls that surround the graves, knowing no boundaries. This Victorian church stands a little west of Newbrough village and is probably the fourth to be built on this spot. A previous building was “in ruins and much decayed” during the days of the border Reivers (raiders from both sides of the Scottish border) in the lawless 17th century.
The family names of Reivers persist. Some are inscribed in the lychgate stones to commemorate men who died in the first world war: Charlton, Bell, Hetherington and Elliott. These high quality sandstone blocks came from nearby Prudhamstone, a quarry that provided for many impressive buildings in Newcastle.
Among the paling snowdrops stand rows of table tombs, their lettering unreadable from weathering and moss. These grand monuments to landowning families look as if they’re waiting for some strange outdoor banquet to begin. Hidden beneath the ground are the remains of a much earlier building, a Roman fortlet that predates Hadrian’s Wall by decades.
It was when a grave was being dug in 1929 that a small bronze coin was unearthed, a half‑penny piece of Constantine the Great. St Peter’s is next to the Stanegate, a Roman road that ran from Corstopitum (Corbridge) to Luguvalium (Carlisle) linking forts and guarding river crossings, and which was the original northern frontier. After the finding of the coin, excavation revealed a Roman building, one of stone walls surrounded by a ditch, under the north side of the churchyard.
Beyond stretch the ordered pastures of parkland, with a small round pond cupped in a hollow of the field. Close by is St Mary’s well, its issue slowed by choking grasses. Brooklime just manages to grow in a trickling flow and a wide sweep of ground is boggy with field rush before the water seeps down into the Newbrough Burn. Here, in the sheltered dene, a new season is beginning. Beneath hazel catkins the trefoil leaves of wood sorrel have unfolded, there is a sprinkling of white flowers on barren strawberries, and spears of freshly emerged wild garlic shine a gleaming emerald.
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