This bridge with its red sandstone arches across the River Dee is the oldest in Chester. It was largely rebuilt in the medieval period on the site of a Roman crossing, and for centuries it was the only road from England into North Wales. Every army, every merchant convoy, every drover herding a mob of grumpy Welsh cattle passed over these arches, until a newer bridge finally opened downstream and quietly stole all the traffic away. Look at the weir below. It is a properly dramatic bit of engineering, and on a good day, with the water thundering over it, the whole scene looks like it is auditioning for a film. Now, if you take a short walk to your left to the city walls, you’ll see a flight of steps called the Wishing Steps, built a couple of centuries ago. Local folklore is very specific about these. If an unmarried woman runs up to the top, back down, and up again without drawing a single breath, she will win the husband of her choosing. In more modern and democratic tellings, anyone can wish for anything, provided they manage the whole breathless dash without gasping. I have not personally attempted it, partly out of dignity and partly because I have seen the steps, which are a good deal steeper than they look. So, if you are thinking of giving it a try, best of luck to you. And this seems the perfect setting to tell you about the Chester witches. The city witnessed genuine witch trials in the seventeenth century, and several women were tried and executed after being accused of witchcraft. That part, sadly, is history. What comes next belongs firmly to local legend, where the facts loosen their collar and imagination takes over. According to the tale, accused witches were rolled downhill towards the Dee inside beer barrels as a magical test. The star of the story is the unflappable Granny Wren. When the townsfolk bundled her into a barrel and gave it a hearty shove, she whispered a spell. Off it bounced, flattening a cheese cart, clipping the mayor's podium and, so the storytellers insist, leaping over the Eastgate Clock before bobbing merrily along the river. Naturally, everyone declared this proof she was a witch. Granny insisted it was simply because she had eaten an exceptionally large sandwich, and the mayor solemnly agreed. After that, nobody thought it polite to argue. Now, there’s something rather special just across the river, and it is too good to leave out. In Edgar's Field, a park on the far bank is a weathered carving cut into a sandstone cliff. It is a shrine to Minerva, the Roman goddess of war, wisdom, and craft, carved in the second century by the very quarrymen who were hacking stone out of this hillside to build the fortress of Deva. Before each day's work, they would leave offerings to Minerva, asking her to keep them in one piece, quarrying being an alarming way to earn a living. What makes this shrine genuinely extraordinary is that it is believed to be the only Roman rock-cut shrine anywhere in Western Europe still standing in its original position. It has never been carted off to a museum or shifted. It sits exactly where the quarrymen left it, nearly two thousand years ago. Follow the map to Chester Castle. Entry is free here, so step in through the gates and walk to the point pinned on the map.