It was never guaranteed that I would be invited to play a ceremonial role in the King’s Coronation – notwithstanding that my family has done so in coronations stretching back to 1066. But when I was invited to lead the King and Queen into Westminster Abbey while carrying the Royal Standard, some agonising weeks after I had submitted my request to take part, I felt a deep sense of relief.
My family has held the title of King or Queen’s Champion for almost a millennium. My 34th great-grandfather, Robert De Marmion, was William the Conqueror’s right-hand man in France. Our ancestral role has been performed at coronations in this country ever since.
And so, performing my duty at the King’s Coronation today, I felt the weight of history on me – both national and personal. I thought, in particular, about my father, Captain John Dymoke, who carried the Royal Standard in Elizabeth II’s coronation in 1953 and died seven years ago. As I walked up the aisle in Westminster Abbey, watched by 2,000 distinguished guests, it was him who was on my mind; a man I admired greatly.
What an occasion it was: without question the most meaningful day of my life (although my wife might remind me that our wedding day was also fairly significant). Majestic and moving, the ceremony went by without a hitch, as indeed we hoped it would after four thorough rehearsals. We were so well-practised, I felt utterly calm and collected by the time we did it for real.
There was, of course, pressure to get it right, knowing the world – and history – was watching. But as practised as we were, it was enormously different from the dry-runs we had done. Stripped of its congregation, the Abbey had felt vast during our day and a half of walk-throughs. Today, packed full of people, it somehow felt rather smaller, and I was disappointed my part was over and done with so quickly, while also relieved I had managed it without tripping up. Relieved and immensely proud.
The most moving moment of all, though, was being present when the King made his vows to look after his country, a terribly important part of the ceremony. This, and also the performances by the choir, whose voices swelled to fill the Abbey, and the trumpeters whose sound resounded so beautifully.
My wife, Gail, sadly but understandably, could not attend the ceremony with me: the guest list was inevitably limited. Instead, she watched on television from our friends’ house in London, and joined me outside the Abbey afterwards.
I sincerely hope there will be a Dymoke at the next coronation, too, and the one after that. My eldest son, Henry, is running our estate in Lincolnshire: the same estate in Scrivelsby my family was given in exchange for our service back in the Middle Ages. I can only hope he is invited to take on the role of Champion next time around.
For me, it was the greatest honour to represent my generation of Dymokes at the service today.
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