Pete mixes fact, fantasy and pure speculation on a tour of Cannock Chase.
If any legend has allowed humans to waste more of their time in fruitless pursuit of the truth, then surely the legends behind the Holy Grail have to be chief amongst them. My trip to the Dyfi Valley two summers ago proved how the stories that blend the facts with the fantastical can bend the course of those who seek the truth. The legends of King Arthur are as contradictory as that of the Grail.
Why then, would I be meeting Nukeproof main man Rob Sherratt and bike-slinger extraordinaire Adam Brayton at Cannock Chase of all places to follow one of the more bizarre Grail legend offshoots? Well, at the far north-eastern extremity of the Chase lies Shugborough Hall, now under the stewardship of the National Trust. Chief amongst its former residents is one George Anson. In his time, Anson rose through the ranks of the Royal Navy to become the First Lord of the Admiralty, completed a circumnavigation of the globe and became a politician. Quite the influential figure. His younger brother Thomas also served as an MP. George Anson commanded the Royal Navy at a time when Britain was exerting its industrial and military influence into anywhere without steel and gunpowder, and usually locking horns with France, their continental rival, at the same time. Today, Anson lends his name to an Astute-class nuclear submarine, but before that, a King George V-class battleship and at least eight other British warships bore his name. How does this have anything to do with The Holy Grail, you might ask?
In the grounds of Shugborough Hall, near a man-made diversion of the Trent designed to increase the ambience of the estate, lies the Shepherd’s Monument. Central to this monument is a marble relief by Flemish sculptor Peter Scheemakers that sports a version of Nicholas Poussin’s painting The Shepherds of Arcadia. Beneath the relief is what is known as ‘The Shugborough Inscription’. It reads:
O U O S V A V
D M
Some believe that within this inscription lies the secret of the Holy Grail. Charles Darwin is one of the notable figures to have pondered its meaning as did Josiah Wedgwood, the famous potter and abolitionist. Neither could come close to producing a theory as to its meaning. More of this later…
Military fatigue?
With some obligatory faff that involves Rob deciding he needs to ride a completely different bike after riding all of thirty feet, we take in some of the classic Cannock Chase loop, in all its late autumn glory. Pines, larch and silver birch offer a splash of colour to the otherwise greyness of the day and most forestry plantations. There’s a solid mix of bridleway bashing to link together some of the off-piste singletrack that weaves its way across the entirety of the Chase.
Leaden legs mean I’m playing catch up from the off. The likely duo of Sherratt and Brayton even arrived in matching outfits, clearly, I missed the memo. I am, once again, reminded to not allow my Scottish riding to make me underestimate the contours of places like the Midlands. The climbs are short and punchy, or long drags, and even the descents need a decent amount of input to get the most out of them. The opening blast, however, is speedy. We’re winding our way around the opening portion of Cannock Chase’s recently fettled red route. It’s a conduit to get us to the outer portion of the forest used by the official trails here, before we stick to the fire roads as the singletrack dives back into the woods. From the dark plantation forests to which British mountain bikers are accustomed to the wide open heathland, the view is constantly changing – even if the sky remains a consistent battleship grey. The going is good though. The quantity of stone in the dirt means the ground is firm and fast, with the odd puddle thrown in for good measure.
A trig point marks the high ground here but there really is no top to speak of, the ground falling away very gradually in all directions from this point. I’m starting to regret running an uncut mud spike, but then I’m not often in Cannock. After wheezing myself back to life, we crack on, honing in on the massive World War One army base that occupied the northern end of the Chase long before the extant pine forests were planted here. All that remains are the massive earthen banks of the firing ranges. On Coppice Hill lies a scale replica of the village of Messines Ridge that, ironically, was built by German WW1 POWs who were camped nearby. Their labour helped with the meticulous planning that went into the, ultimately successful, Battle of Messines – something of a prelude to the better known Battle of Passchendale.
Monumental mysteries
Out of the dark and back into the light we find the blackened remains of the forest that suffered fairly extensive fire damage in 2020, with a few stalwart silver birches still standing tall. We take the opportunity to get some airtime and slap some turns as the gradient steepens before going after some more bridleway bashing. Brayton, naturally, shows us what airtime really is and adds a few air miles to his account in the process.
Eventually, the conifers thin out and broadleaves take over as we get closer to the estate, before we pop out of the trees altogether to where the railway line disappears underneath the grounds of the estate. Deer sit on the grass above the railway tunnel in a rather bizarre mix of the natural and man-made. Standing proud across the well-groomed grass complete with English Longhorns is Shugborough Hall itself. It looks every bit the bleached white neo-classic behemoth you might expect the Earl of Lichfield to have resided in. The estate came to the original earl by way of the dissolution of the monasteries under Henry VIII.
The Shepherd’s Monument might be easily missed by anyone who has no idea of its meaning or significance – many walkers didn’t bat an eyelid as they passed. Most were focused on the Japanese-style bridge over the ‘moat’ rather than this ageing monument. At the top is a carving of a bald, smiling man. Next to it, a likeness of the goat-horned Greek god Pan. The relief stands out bright white against the darkening rustic arch and the “Et En Arcadia” inscription is easily visible, as is the one we’re here to see. The Shepherds themselves point towards letters of the former, and there is a sarcophagus added to the tomb that was present in the original painting.
Why should anyone care, you might ask? Well, in 2004, the then manager of the property invited former Bletchley Park workers, Sheila and Oliver Lawn, to attempt to decipher the inscription. One theory supported by Sheila Lawn, originally presented by English novelist, translator and reviewer Oliver Stonor in 1951, is likely the most plausible, but has its flaws and has yet to be proven some seventeen years later. It suggests that the inscription was a dedication to George Anson’s wife meaning “Optimae Uxoris Optimae Sororis Viduus Amantissimus Vovit Virtutibus (Best of wives, Best of sisters, a most devoted Widower dedicates [this] to your virtues). Other sources state, however, that this is grammatically incorrect in Latin, so it’s rather flawed.
Alternative facts
Almost all the other theories ascribe different meanings to the letters, mostly as dedications to Anson’s wife, or simply having a religious theme, similar to the copies of monuments of antiquity found elsewhere in the grounds. Most involve an anagram of a Latin phrase from the Bible. Oliver Lawn pointed out that he and Sheila’s specialities lay in deciphering mathematical cyphers, like the ones that made up the Lorenz and Enigma codes. The Shugborough Inscription, he insisted, was a code of language, and breaking it would require an intimate knowledge of the classical works of antiquity. We’re looking at you classics professors…
As it stands, the monument was built sometime between 1748 and 1756, so nigh on three centuries have passed and still nobody knows what the inscription means. Arguably the least likely of the theories is that this monument has anything to do with the location of The Holy Grail. The pseudoscientific 1982 work, The Holy Blood and the Holy Grail, suggested that Poussin – whose painting is depicted on the stone – was a member of a modern knightly order and that the inscription and the relief had some greater significance. Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code has many similarities to The Holy Blood and the Holy Grail, and while it makes no specific reference to the Shepherd’s Monument or the Shugborough Inscription, the staff at the hall may have cultivated the connection a little. There were also rumours that the Ansons were close to the Grand Masters of the Knights Templar. Whether this is true or just an 18th century version of claiming that rich people are members of a secret society is hard to tell. The believers are out there, however, and staff at the hall apparently get five to six people a week contacting them claiming to have solved the inscription…
The most exciting theory, as far as I am concerned, is that of hidden Spanish treasure. George Edmunds’ 2016 book Anson’s Gold suggests that the inscription was sent to George’s brother Thomas as part of a cypher that would give the latitude and longitude of an island where treasure is buried. The book states that Anson mounted a secret expedition to reclaim the treasure, but gives no reason as to why it still remains there. Could this mysterious island be the resting place of the Holy Grail? We may never know.
Back to reality
With some theories debunked, almost all of them in fact, and both Rob and Adam getting tired of my history lesson, we make haste back to the start point. A short road blast brings us back to the car park. With the sightseeing over, we climb through what is probably the remnants of the oak woods that would have plastered this part of the country, with some of the trees looking like they might well be older than Shugborough Hall itself. A deep railway cutting offers something to keep an eyeball on as we climb. If we’re going to fall, we decide we’ll fall away from it rather than into it.
Sadly the ancient oak wood doesn’t last long and we’re back out into the open heathland, winching our way up the long, steady climb back to the high point I mused about on the outward lap. I realise that every route that isn’t something off-piste is dead straight here. Many Roman roads converge in this area, but it seems that more recent military influence has made its mark too. I’m far from used to seeing where we’re heading for on rides, but the long-drawn-out climbs here are designed for marching under heavy packs. Rob and Adam still have the legs on me and I’m more than happy to dive back into a slightly more hectic route when the singletrack heads back into the cool darkness of the forest.
It’s not long before we’re back onto Cannock Chase’s red route and dodging Strava warriors on myriad different bikes, from cheap Trek hardtails all the way up to your second-hand sports car money bikes. The mud spike out front is making difficult work of the flint here. The Nukeproof gents use this as a good excuse to put some wind between us and I’m left to consider my tyre choices as I squirm around the final turns of this well-loved descent.
Returning to the car park suitably broken, the stats say we’ve covered far more distance than I thought we might have done, which helps explain the dead legs. My brain is also trying to compute the sheer quantity of opposing theories behind the Shugborough Inscription. I would really like it if the hidden Spanish treasure version of events was true, as it paints a picture of adventure across the high seas in my head that is simply more exciting than a dedication to a wife… The latter, however, is likely the most plausible explanation. Oliver Lawn stated that someone with a good knowledge of classics and access to the records of the estate and the correspondence between the two Anson brothers, Thomas and George, might well expose the secrets of the inscription. Until then, this will remain one of the unsolved mysteries of our time.