The Wall

by Alistair Moffat

  BLOCKED IN BEARSDEN

  Property prices in the genteel Glasgow suburb of Bearsden might be thought to benefit from the presence of Roman remains. History on a doorstep adds a certain cachet. Less appealing to estate agents might be the fact that one of the most interesting finds at the fort was the effluent from a latrine. Like the famous example at Housesteads, it was communal. The sewage drained into the ditches beyond the rampart where it was covered with water – and therefore probably did not smell. Analysis has revealed a largely vegetarian diet for the average soldier: cereals supplemented by wild fruits and nuts, such as raspberries, brambles and hazelnuts. Food was not as fresh or as hygienically prepared as it is now and some of the men suffered from roundworm and whipworm. Too much information? Less worryingly, bits of ancient moss were found in the ditches and absolutely no trace whatsoever of sponges and sticks.

  The native kings knew of the great stone Wall in the south and it may be that some of their warriors had joined their allies, the Brigantes, and fought in the countryside around it. When a second Wall began to slice through their own territory, it is not likely that they were content to sit quietly and watch. And as Roman soldiers worked, they were more vulnerable to surprise.

  Meanwhile Hadrian’s Wall appears to have been all but deserted. To allow easier access, the gates were removed from the milecastles, and every 40 or 50 metres some of the upcast was backfilled into the Vallum to make causeways. Garrisons fell back to the old Stanegate forts of Corbridge, Vindolanda and Carlisle. The focus was now firmly in the north as the turf Wall took shape.

  The density of the Antonine Wall defences is very striking. The garrisons were stationed very close to one another. Admittedly they varied in size from the small detachment which fitted into the tiny fort at Duntocher to the much larger units based at Balmuildy, for example. Most of the soldiers were infantrymen and there was cavalry only at Mumrills in the east (the Tungrians) and probably at Bearsden in the west. Given the boggy and difficult nature of the ground immediately to the north of the Wall, infantry may have been a better option. The Roman army always preferred to fight in formation, using well-rehearsed tactics. By contrast, native horsemen were raiders and skirmishers, like the Border Reivers long after them, with sure-footed ponies able to move quickly through uncertain ground. This seems like a mis-match but, in reality, it was probably not sensible for the Romans to pursue but rather to police effectively those places they could reach on foot. As ever they were determined to fight only on their own terms.

  ANTONINE NAMES

  Perhaps because the Antonine Wall was in operation for such a comparatively short time, we do not have a complete list of well-understood names for the forts along it. Some are entirely unknown, others wildly speculative. However, place-names sprinkled on either side of the Wall are interesting. ‘Medionemeton’ means Middle Shrine and it might have two references. The less likely location is a Roman monument known as Arthur’s O’en. Looking a bit like a huge oven or a giant beehive, it stood 3 kilometres north of the Antonine Wall, near the River Carron. It was probably dedicated to the goddess Victory, perhaps in thanks and celebration for the defeat of the northern kings in the campaign of AD 139–142. A large, circular and domed structure, it was demolished in 1743 and its dressed stones used to build a mill dam for the Carron Ironworks. The other, more likely, location of the Middle Shrine is Cairnpapple Hill near Linlithgow. An elaborate prehistoric temple and burial site for millennia, it seems to stand on a Scottish meridian with clear and long views in every direction. The Highland Line, the Forth, the Southern Uplands and the Firth of Clyde can all be seen from its summit, and the name means the Stone of the Priests in early Gaelic.

  At Newstead, the conditions were different. The well-drained rolling farmland of the central Borders was good cavalry country. In addition to two cohorts of the XX Legion, a full regiment of troopers was stationed on the banks of the Tweed. The Ala Augusta Vocontiorum had the hitting power and the speed to confront the fast-moving warbands of the Selgovae. Horses for courses.

  At Newstead, and outside the walls of most of the forts on the Antonine Wall, the soldiers built annexes. In part these enclosures were a quicker and more economical solution to the problem solved by the Vallum dug so laboriously to the south of Hadrian’s Wall. Instead of all that sweat spilt to create a secure military zone behind the entire length of the Wall, Lollius Urbicus’ planners decided to localise it. At the flanks of the Antonine forts, annexes could be used to house additional troops, enclose stock or provide a well-guarded cordon around goods, which might otherwise have disappeared during the night.

  The date of the completion of the Antonine Wall is nowhere recorded, but the finishing of its legionary lengths is. A set of unique stone plaques, known as distance slabs, has been found, which carry the names of the legions who did the work, commemorating who did what. Set up on both the northern and southern faces of the Wall at the end of each length, some are very ornate – and informative. Not surprisingly the mascot animals of the legions appear: a charging boar for the XX, and a goat and Pegasus, the winged horse, for the II. Various representations of the goddess of Victory are also carved.

  The story of the War for the Wall is told in two of the most interesting slabs. Set up by the II Legion, one of these carries a central inscription, which is mostly taken up with the many names of the Emperor Antoninus Pius. Reading from the left, there is a panel showing a Roman cavalryman riding over four naked barbarians, clearly vanquishing them. Or him. The four figures may represent one warrior being attacked, knocked to the ground and wounded, and perhaps begging for mercy, his weapons cast away. No mercy was given, for at the bottom of the panel he has been decapitated. The sculptor was no great artist, but he has tried hard to impart a sense of movement to the cavalryman and his pony. Its tail is up, its forelegs leaping into the gallop, and its rider’s cloak flies out behind as he thrusts downwards with his spear.

  On the right of the inscription there is a religious scene. Under the banner of the II Legion, a priest, probably the commander, Aulus Claudius Charax, pours out a libation onto an altar. Wearing what is probably a senatorial toga, he is surrounded by his fellow officers. Some are bearded, like both Hadrian and Antoninus, while others are clean-shaven, and it may be that these are rough portraits. A figure plays the pipes and another kneels beside three animals: a bull, a sheep and a pig. Soon these poor creatures will have their throats cut in sacrifice, and the strong impression is that this ceremony is a dedication to celebrate the completion of the Wall, or at any rate the section at Bridgeness. It may also be a thanksgiving for the victorious outcome of the war being fought on the other side of the panel.

  A distance slab was found at the western end of the Wall, at Hutcheson Hill, which shows another legion celebrating. In a central panel this time, the goddess of Victory awards a wreath to the XX Legion. As she places it on the beak of one of their eagle standards, two kneeling, naked and bound captives watch from the side panels. There can be no doubt about who is who and what is what. Rome has not just won but triumphed over the miserable, naked barbarians of the north.

  Nakedness on the distance slabs was clearly the condition of defeat and enslavement but, as noted earlier, when one of the Vindolanda letters observes that the natives were naked, it meant that they are unprotected by armour. This was something the Romans not only sneered at but found difficult to understand. But in reality the sort of well-made and effective protection worn by legionaries and auxiliaries was unusual in the ancient world. Because the Roman army was professional and the deposit of a great deal of investment in training and pay, it made sense for soldiers to be well protected and for them to survive as long as possible. Dead soldiers were simply a waste. In the main, native warbands were not professional and did not wear armour. Their cavalry did not resemble the helmeted trooper riding across the Bridgeness slab.

  The Antonine reoccupation of Scotland and discoveries at Corbridge have contributed a great deal to an un
derstanding of this crucial Roman advantage. At the site of Newstead Fort the remains of a lorica segmentata were found by James Curle in 1906. This was the most common type of body armour worn in the western Empire from the late first century AD on into the middle of the second. Designed like a set of wide, overlapping metal ribs, it fitted around the abdomen and was flexible, allowing a soldier to move without much constraint. In combat an ability to move freely and quickly could be a matter of life or death. The Newstead type, and also a damaged lorica found at Corbridge, had heavy protection on the shoulders. Sword strokes over the top of a shield were obviously common and the overlapping shoulder plates are also fitted together like scales, both to protect and make it possible for a fighting soldier to raise his arm unhindered.

  These cuirasses must have been very expensive, but it seems that soldiers bought them, either second-hand or direct from the manufacturer. Factories must have existed all over the western Empire, for, over the period of their use, hundreds of thousands of loricas were worn. The process of manufacture was all manual. Plates were hammered into shape, not produced by rolling mills. Roman armour lasted a long time and was passed on by fathers to sons; some examples are known to have survived in use long after the Empire in the west had disappeared.

  Chain mail was more expensive, but more flexible. It took around 180 hours to make the most rudimentary shirt because it had at least 22,000 rings. Officers wore them, and often scales were latched onto the rings to make an even tougher piece of armour. The surprise is that mail was worn by auxiliaries. How did they afford it?

  Parts of helmets have been found along Hadrian’s Wall and they all appear to have followed the same basic design. A skull cap or pot had three elements added. At the back there was a wide neck-guard, to the sides hinged cheek-pieces, and a thick brow-band was fitted at the front to deflect downward blows. Most distinctive, at least in Hollywood epics, were the red horsehair cockades worn like a brush on the top. An example was preserved in the anaerobic mud of Vindolanda and in the main such decorations were the prerogative of senior officers. It should perhaps be expected that cavalry helmets had a little more dash. Often heavily decorated, some had a plume-tube fitted so that when the horses galloped whatever they had attached would stream out behind. The trooper on the Bridgeness slab wears a fine example, shaped like a pony tail. At Newstead a splendid metal cavalry mask was found. Not a piece of armour, it was used only for display on the parade ground. The comments of the infantry can easily be imagined.

  The Antonine Wall showed every sign of permanence. A large garrison had been concentrated in a small, well-placed and heavily defended area – in fact it was only slightly smaller than that of Hadrian’s Wall, which was of course twice the length. There were between 6,000 and 7,000 soldiers in seventeen forts, compared with a total of around 8,000 on the stone wall in the south. Such large numbers suggest a large native population. Most of their duties were more like modern police work: the pursuit, trying and punishment of criminals (with commanding officers as magistrates), the escort of important people and a general effort to keep order. During the reign of Marcus Aurelius’ son, Commodus (AD 180–192), forts and towers were built along the banks of the Danube to prevent the secret crossings of petty raiders.

  ROMAN SPORRANS

  The lorica segmentata, a mail shirt, could only reach down so far, and Roman soldiers were unable to protect what many men reckon to be the most vital part of their anatomy. The Roman solution was a kind of sporran. A few leather straps were sewn onto a belt and had metal studs hammered into them. This was flexible enough to allow free movement and it did offer some protection – although not much. Like a heavy sporran, it could probably have been uncomfortable while running or even walking quickly. Perhaps most Roman soldiers relied on their long shields and a sporting respect from the similarly vulnerable warriors they fought against. But then again, perhaps not.

  The Antonine system seems also to have been much more clearly thought out, more integrated. All the forts faced north and formed part of the rampart, while the road behind them linked them all very closely. The Antonine Wall was perhaps the most advanced example of a Roman linear frontier.

  There was no sense that it would be a short-lived expedient. Vici, the familiar civil settlements, quickly grew up and, beside the walls of the fort at Carriden, the inhabitants seem to have been particularly independent-minded. Having organised themselves into some sort of self-governing entity, they set up an altar, dedicated to Jupiter Best and Greatest. It also named Aelius Mansuetus on it, possibly a civil official or leader.

  A pottery workshop was established at Bearsden by a man called Sarrius. It was part of a chain. He already had factories near Leicester and Doncaster, and, as the north opened up, Sarrius could clearly recognise a business opportunity when he saw one. It appears to have been successful: several sherds have been found with the firm’s name on them.

  Despite all this activity and all the effort expended to build a new northern frontier, it was abandoned after only fifteen years’ occupation. It was Antoninus Pius who made the final decision. Probably in 157, he and his council in Rome decided to pull the frontier back to Hadrian’s Wall. Lollius Urbicus, the former Governor of Britannia and builder of the new Wall, was instrumental. By 157 he was almost certainly Prefect of the City of Rome and a key member of the imperial council. Knowing the situation in Britain better than anyone else, he may have advocated the pull-back himself. The invasion and holding of the north had long since served its purpose and after twenty years on the throne Antoninus no longer needed to be associated with any fading glory. And, with legionaries certainly included in the Antonine garrisons (usually this sort of frontier posting was given to auxiliaries), there is a hint of overstretch.

  The Wall was not demolished nor the ditch backfilled. It stood high enough to be clearly visible to the surveyor, William Roy, in the middle of the eighteenth century, and the ditch has survived well in places even now. Forts and their buildings were slighted or burned, and the distance slabs carefully buried. Having military honours for the legions inscribed on them, they were semi-sacred objects, and no barbarian, naked or otherwise, would be allowed to deface them.

  TAGINES

  Archaeologists digging at Bearsden Fort came across pottery made for cooking in an African style. Large pots were produced to sit directly on top of a brazier. How did they get there? There are no records of units from North Africa posted on the Antonine Wall – but there was a war in the province of Mauretania (part of modern Algeria) during the reign of Antoninus Pius. It began in 145 and ended five years later, and it may be that units were sent from the frontier in central Scotland on an immense journey to the frontier in North Africa to fight against more barbarians. There they appeared to have enjoyed the local cuisine and, when they arrived back in Bearsden, they had the right sort of pot fired in a kiln and made a brazier to hold it. The pots sound very much like tagines, heavy earthenware pots used by North African nomads to cook on charcoal braziers. They have conical lids which ensure that none of the condensation caused by cooking escapes, and this enrichs the stew or whatever else is being cooked. Cosmopolitan indeed.

  As the Antonine Wall passed into history, misconceptions and myths began to gather around it. The normally scrupulous Bede of Jarrow got it wrong when he reported that it had been built in the fifth century when a Roman army returned to southern Scotland. Having helped the locals repel an invasion of Picts and Scots (some whispers of genuine history here), the Romans advised them to build a wall to keep marauders at bay. By the eighth century, when Bede was writing at Jarrow, building in the Roman manner meant stonework. Turf had to be the work of the primitive British:

  The islanders built this wall as they had been instructed, but having no engineers capable of so great an undertaking, they built it of turf and not stone, so that it was of small value. However they built it for many miles between the two estuaries, hoping that where the sea provided no protection, they might use the ram
part to preserve their borders from hostile attack. Clear traces of this wide and lofty earthwork can be seen to this day. It begins about two miles west of the monastery of Abercorn at a place which the Picts call Peanfahel and the English Penneltun, and runs westward to the city of Dumbarton.

  By the fourteenth century bad history had turned into myth-history. The Scottish chronicler John of Fordun reckoned that the Wall had been cast down (perhaps it was in a ruinous state by his time) by Gryme, the son of King Eugenius. Writing in the sixteenth century, George Buchanan thought that Graeme, a leader of the Picts, had broken through it. King Graeme? In any event the local name for the Antonine Wall was the Grimsdyke and it lives on in modern streetnames. In Bo’ness there is a Grahamsdyke Road and a Grahamsdyke Lane, while in Laurieston there is a Grahamsdyke Street. If Gryme and the very unlikely Graeme are set aside, what did the name mean? There is an intriguing old Scots expression, a Grime’s Dyke, which means a ditch made by magic. The Old English grim originally meant fierce or aggressive. Either interpretation could work.

  There are powerful archaeological arguments that the withdrawal from the Antonine Wall was gradual, managed in stages over four or five years. Dating after 158, signs of rebuilding have been detected at Chesters, Corbridge and Vindolanda, and redeployment for some units may have had to wait until the old Wall had been repaired and made habitable. The turf section in the west was replaced with stone during this period.

  Most important, there seems to have been trouble in Britain. Around 155 the Brigantes may have risen in rebellion and the depleted legionary garrisons at Chester and York may have been unable to contain them. Coins were issued with the image of Britannia subdued, usually a sign that a war had been won, and troop movements are also suggestive of trouble in the Pennines. An inscription pulled out of the River Tyne records the arrival of reinforcements for all three legions in Britannia. But, in the nature of fragmentary evidence, it is possible to interpret it in the opposite direction. Soldiers may have been sailing down the Tyne to reinforce comrades in Germany. What is certain is the arrival of another experienced and talented general as Governor. Julius Verus is recorded ordering building work at Birrens Fort, just to the north of Hadrian’s Wall and at Brough, at the southern end of the Pennines, in Derbyshire. Despite the ambiguities around the question of reinforcements, it looks as though the Brigantes once again forced a change in Roman policy. After almost a century of occupation, their kings were still powerful. The simple cause and effect may be that Lollius Urbicus advised his Emperor to withdraw elements of the Antonine garrison to suppress revolt in the Pennines.