The Star County

The day remains clear in my mind, though the date eludes me. It was the year 2000. I was reading the Daily Mail as I misguidedly did every day at the time. The page with the reader’s questions and answers was my favourite part of the paper. The principle is quite simple. Readers that have a nagging question that they cannot get answered have said question published in the hope that someone may know an answer amongst the millions of readers. Believe it or not, there was a time that not everyone used Google.

The questions fascinated me. The scope of topics was huge. Every area of life, history, science, and general knowledge was covered. What amazed me was that there always seemed to be someone who knew exactly the required information and was prepared to write in with an answer. Sometimes the answers extended to essays with great detail, sometimes just one line, and often, a comedian would write in with a witty comment.

This day was different, though. There was a question that actually stirred me profoundly. I was sure that I knew the answer, but I was not at the time confident enough of the facts to feel able to respond. Why was Lincolnshire known as the Star County? It was from a gentleman in Sleaford. The querent wanted to know why Lincolnshire used to be known as The Star County. A simple question on the face of it, and presumably, there would be a straightforward answer. To me, however, the question had deep resonance, and that evening when I sat at the dining table with a map of Lincolnshire in front of me with a large five-pointed star drawn upon it, I knew I was on to something.

I waited for an answer to appear in the Mail. I desperately wanted to know the answer to this question. Why was Lincolnshire known as the Star County? I believed I knew, did anyone else? Days went by with no response appearing in the paper, then weeks. I was disappointed; no one answered. After a few weeks, I decided to take matters into my own hands and emailed the editor of the questions page to ask if anyone had answered and if I had missed it. I received no answer from him, but miraculously a couple of days later, an answer finally appeared in print. The response came from someone in Lincoln. His belief was that the term Star County referred to the strong Jewish community that settled in Lincoln during the middle ages. I have to say that I was underwhelmed and unconvinced by this answer. I was more than prepared to accept that there would be a mundane answer to the question. The star on my map would just be an amusing coincidence. But this answer seemed unsatisfactory, and I wanted to write the paper and express as much. Of course, I refrained, but I just could not shake this incident from my memory.

This was the question and answer as printed in the Daily Mail Monday, July 31st 2000:

Why is Lincolnshire known as the star county? Lincolnshire is no longer called the star county, but the label may have been a reference to the influential jewish community which thrived in Lincoln in Medieval times. The community centred around Steep Hill, Lincoln, and remnants of this time can be seen at the Jew’s House, the oldest surviving stone house in Britain. The Jewish community went into decline in 1255 following the murder of a nine year old boy called Hugh of Lincoln, whose body was discovered on the wall of the Jew’s House. A Jewish man, Copin, admitted to the crime under torture and implicated many other Jews, leading to a period of bloody persecution. Later, the murdered boy was venerated by pilgrims as St Hugh of Lincoln. Paul Marsh, Lincoln.

Since then, I have attempted to locate any reference to Lincolnshire being known as the Star County and have not been able to. I find it puzzling and frustrating. How had this gentleman in Sleaford come across this name for my home county, but I had never heard it nor could find any reference to it. Whatever the answer to this conundrum, I was convinced I had the true reason Lincolnshire could proudly bear the name Star County drawn on the map in my dining room.

The Star

A friend of mine had a theory. We were both fascinated by the Knights Templar. To some, the name means little, and I have written a brief history elsewhere to give some background for those new to the subject. To others, the name stirs great interest. Medieval warrior monks linked intricately to the major events of the 12th and 13th centuries. Fierce soldiers for Christianity during the Crusades, astute businessmen during peaceful times, and ultimately destroyed amidst accusations of heresy and occult worship. It is a fascinating organisation, and once one has developed an interest in things Templar, it can easily become obsessive. His theory was that the major sites of the Knights Templar could be pinpointed very accurately by multiple pairs of local churches. Basically, he said that you could draw a line on a map between the churches of a pair and that all the lines of the church pairs crossed on the Templar site. It may sound odd that he even thought such an idea was possible. For a start, churches are randomly placed, so how could this theory stand up to any investigation? But a lot of work and research has been completed into the specific locating of spiritual sites and buildings. From megalithic standing stones through pagan temples to Christian churches, many appear to have been established at specific locations. For example, more than one writer has suggested that French Gothic cathedral locations are laid out to replicate the pattern of specific constellations of stars. As another example, many people have identified straight-line connections between megalithic standing stone sites. That churches could be arranged to be directly linked to Knights Templar properties was possible, and I was intrigued. Lincolnshire has more than its fair share of important Templar sites, so I tried out the theory. Unfortunately, I could not prove it, however hard I tried. It just didn’t work. However, while going through this process, I did find one intriguing pair of churches whose line passed directly through the Knights Templar site at Temple Bruer.

A line between two churches passing through a Knight Templar site is surely pure chance, and I would have agreed if it were not for one other important detail. The Templar site appeared to divide the line in a fascinating way. I checked with a ruler and calculator and was amazed and excited. The Templar site was not at some random point on this line, but it actually divided the line into divine proportions. Mathematically this point is known as Phi; in the art world, it is known as the Golden mean or divine proportion. The fact that this line was divided in such a way surely indicates that something more interesting was involved here, and I certainly took no more encouragement to delve deeper. Phi is defined as the division of a line, where the ratio of the smaller part to the larger part equals the ratio of the larger part to the whole. In other words, the length of the smaller part of the line divided by the length of the longer part is equal to the length of the longer part divided by the length of the whole line. The resulting ratio is a number that is known as a transcendental number. It is a number that cannot be resolved. No matter your computing power, you cannot define the number. It has been computed to millions of decimal places, and still, it will not resolve. It transcends rational mathematics, hence its name. A short version of the number is 1.618033989.

So what I hear you say. Why does the fact that this line is divided into divine proportion matter? I happened to have been reading about sacred geometry, and it is within this subject that Phi takes on significance. I knew that from a line divided in this way, I could construct a five-pointed star, a pentangle. So I did. Then I circumscribed the star with a circle, sat back, and was amazed. The circle passed through yet another church. So I had a circle that passed through 3 churches, 2 of which defined 2 points of a pentagon, which in turn defined the position of arguably the most important Knight Templar site outside of London. Here was my Lincolnshire Star. This truly was why Lincolnshire could be referred to as Star County.

The scale of the design that I stumbled across was huge. The circle’s diameter is 15.7 Km, and it covers an incredible 193.78 Km2. It was roughly in the centre of the county and predominantly covered a huge flat area of what was once heathland. The area covered is still mostly unpopulated today and has an eerily still and quiet feeling.

This was no accidental geometry. It was there, carefully plotted out in the landscape. I was intrigued and wanted to know more. Who had designed it, who laid it out, and most of all, why? There had to be a good reason for such a grand design, and I wanted to know more.

Further confirmation

I wanted to be sure of my findings and needed to find a more accurate measurement method. After searching the internet, I found a chap in Essex mapping what I could best describe as lay lines using a home-written computer program. To create an accurate picture, it was necessary to input the coordinates of churches etc. and then ask the programme to connect the points with pinpoint accuracy. Very kindly, I was given a copy of the programme and set about confirming what had been up to now pen lines on a map. The programme confirmed my observations and measurements, and I was delighted. But my excitement was to grow yet further. The programme also allowed the entry of roads onto the plan, so I did, and the result was stunning.

I entered into the programme the coordinates for the Roman road that is known as Ermine Street. The route of this road is proof of the design. It enters the circle of the pentangle next to the third church on the circumference. It then travels upwards through the design and divides the pentangle in two, leaving the design exactly through the northernmost point of the star. On my computer screen, this evidence for the star’s existence was much more obvious than on the map, but there it was. The chances of Ermine Street passing through the pentagram in such a particular manner were well beyond chance. This had to be achieved by design. This has to be proof that the pentagram is really there.

Not happy with this confirmation level, I set out to check in another way that the detail I had was correct and that the pentagram design was accurate. I did this by obtaining a computer geometry programme. This programme allowed me to enter map references of places of interest as coordinates on a xy axis. From this input, I was able, with pinpoint accuracy, to check the detail of my pentagram and begin looking for other geometric devices or connections.

It did not take long to find other interesting features, and these appear in other stories on this site. Many stories connect to the pentagonal Star. It has fascinated many actors across centuries if not millennia.