Depictions in British Folklore
In Great Britain, later legend, mentioned by Henry of Huntingdon but made popular by Geoffrey of Monmouth, claimed that Helena was a daughter of the King of Britain, Cole of Camulodunum, who allied with Constantius to avoid more war between the Britons and Rome. Geoffrey further states that she was brought up in the manner of a queen, as she had no brothers to inherit the throne of Britain. The source for this may have been Sozomen's Historia Ecclesiastica, which however does not claim Helena was British but only that her son Constantine picked up his Christianity there. Constantine was with his father when he died in Eboracum (York), but neither had spent much time in Britain. There is no other surviving evidence to support this legend, which may be due to confusion with Saint Elen, wife of the usurper Magnus Maximus.
At least twenty-five holy wells currently exist in the United Kingdom dedicated to Saint Helena. She is also the patron saint of Abingdon and Colchester. St Helen's Chapel in Colchester was believed to have been founded by Helena herself, and since the 15th century, the town's coat of arms has shown a representation of the True Cross and three crowned nails in her honour. Colchester Town Hall has a Victorian statue of the saint on top of its 50-metre (160 ft) high tower. The arms of Nottingham are almost identical, because of the city's connection with Cole (or Coel), Helena's supposed father.
Adrian Gilbert has argued that Helena traveled to Nevern in Wales and hid the True Cross near the local Norman church of St Brynach, where a cross is carved into a rock formation. Named the Pilgrim's Cross, religious pilgrims once came here to pray for visions. Names of local places are abundant with cross imagery, including River of the Empress, Mountain of the Cross, Pass of the Cross, and others. The True Cross, however, has not been found in this region.
Read more about this topic: Helena (Empress)
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“Surely, of all creatures we eat, we are most brutal to snails. Helix optera is dug out of the earth where he has been peacefully enjoying his summer sleep, cracked like an egg, and eaten raw, presumably alive. Or boiled in oil. Or roasted in the hot ashes of a wood fire.... If God is a snail, Bosch’s depictions of Hell are going to look like a vicarage tea-party.”
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