Winwick church, where stories sleep, piled high like the bodies buried there

Once thought to be of equal archaeological importance as Avebury, Winwick is now largely forgotten. But millennia of history, myth and magic still tremble on this ancient northern site, says David Barnett

Church treasurer and local historian Peter Beck outside the church clock tower (David Barnett)

What ghosts might walk through Winwick? Perhaps the grey figures of an insubstantial procession of druids heading towards the raised mound ringed by standing stones. Or the fallen warriors of two mighty Saxon armies, the echoes of their clanging swords ringing as they die again and again.

Maybe the three giants said to be buried here, yawning and stretching and rising from their crypt. The phantom of a mischievous pig that legend has it shaped the very topography of this place and gave the village its name.

The soldiers of the Twentieth Legion marching in perfect unison along the nearby Roman road, or the trio of Cromwellian snipers stationed on the church tower, picking off the approaching Royalists until felled by musket balls and plunging to the ground below.