Post-Roman York: Lamel Hill cemetery

York was an important military, ecclesiastical and political centre in Late Roman Britain. In the early seventh century it was under royal control of the Anglian (‘Anglo-Saxon’) kings of Deira, and later in the seventh century it developed into a major ecclesiastical centre and the seat of an archbishopric, a status it holds to this day.

In between, the historical record is a blank. There are no definite references to York between the fourth century and the seventh century, although there are one or two snippets whose meaning is less than clear (see earlier post on Post-Roman York: the documentary evidence for a summary of the documentary records). Evidence from archaeology provides some clues that may help to fill in the gap. In earlier posts I have discussed the headquarters building and the Anglian cremation cemeteries at The Mount and Heworth This post discusses the cemetery at Lamel Hill and Belle Vue House.

Evidence

Lamel Hill

Lamel Hill is an artificial mound on natural rise situated south-east of the Roman fortress at York.

Map link here
The arrow shows the location of Lamel Hill. The scale is currently set to show the position of the mound. Zoom out to see the location in relation to the rest of the city, and zoom in for a detailed view showing the street names.

The mound was constructed during the English Civil War as a platform for a gun battery at the siege of York. Later it was used to mount a windmill, and then as a garden feature (English Heritage).

Lamel Hill is in the grounds of The Retreat, built as a hospital for the treatment of mental illness in the late eighteenth century and still operating in that role today. In 1847 its then medical superintendent, James Thurnam, conducted an archaeological excavation of the Lamel Hill mound, described by the York Archaeological Trust as ‘…an exemplary excavation for the period…’ (Tweddle 1999, p. 170).

Thurnam found that the main part of the mound contained a mass of disarticulated human skeletons. Below this, he identified 20 to 30 intact inhumation burials (English Heritage; Tweddle 1999 p 170-174). The skeletons were lying stretched out on their backs, oriented west-east (Tweddle 1999, p 170-174). There were no recorded grave goods, although Thurnam made drawings of iron fittings found with some of the skeletons, which were corner pieces, hinges and lock plates from chests in which some of the bodies had presumably been buried (Tweddle 1999 p 172-174). The fittings themselves have since disappeared.

Belle Vue House

Belle Vue House (now demolished) was situated just west of Lamel Hill at 99A Heslington Road (Tweddle 1999 p 236). An archaeological excavation was conducted in its grounds in 1983. This identified 38 inhumation burials, of which at least nine had been mutilated or decapitated before burial. The bodies were lying stretched out, and all but two were oriented west-east. The two exceptions were two decapitated burials oriented the opposite way round, east-west. One skeleton was accompanied by a small iron knife ‘probably of post-Roman date’, and other iron objects ‘probably of Anglian date’ and one sherd of Anglian pottery were also discovered. There was also some Roman pottery, tile and window glass, and a Roman sarcophagus lid (Tweddle 1999 p. 172, 236).

As the two sites are so close together, it is likely (though not proven as the space in between has not been excavated) that the Belle Vue cemetery and the Lamel Hill cemetery are part of the same cemetery (Tweddle 1991 p 172).

The Roman sarcophagus lid at Belle Vue suggests that the cemetery was on or near the site of a previous Roman cemetery. The orientation of the burials and the near-complete absence of grave goods is consistent with Christian burials. No evidence for an associated church was found (Tweddle 1991 p 172).

Dating evidence is sparse, as there are no radiocarbon dates and very few grave goods. The ‘post-Roman’ iron knife and Anglian pottery sherd at Belle Vue are consistent with a date some time in the post-Roman period. Tweddle et al comment that the use of chests as coffins is also known from Christian cemeteries of the seventh to ninth century, and suggest that the iron fittings at Lamel Hill may indicate a similar date. On the basis of this, the interpretation of the graves as Christian, and the absence of evidence for an associated church, they suggest that the Lamel Hill/Belle Vue burials may date to the seventh or early eighth century, after Northumbria’s conversion to Christianity and before burial in churchyards became established practice (Tweddle 1991 p 172).

Interpretation

The orientation of the undisturbed inhumations at Lamel Hill and the absence of grave goods apart from items that may be coffin-fittings are both consistent with Christian burial practices. It is of course impossible to say anything about the orientation or furnishings of the graves originally occupied by the disturbed skeletons in the mound, which were presumably dug up from a surrounding cemetery along with the earth used to build the Civil War gun platform. Clearly they had originally been inhumations rather than cremations (since the bones were bones and not ash). Any grave goods would presumably have been lost when the graves were dug up, and so the lack of recognisable grave goods in the mound does not tell us much. In the absence of evidence it’s a reasonable assumption that they were originally similar to the undisturbed burials under the mound, but this is still an assumption.

It is not clear how many burials had been disturbed, though the large quantity of bone in the mound suggests the number was substantial. It is also not clear how large the cemetery was, though if both Belle Vue and Lamel Hill represent parts of the same cemetery that suggests it was extensive.

The Belle Vue burials had a similar orientation and a similar lack of grave goods, also consistent with Christian burials. Why the Belle Vue graves should have had such a high proportion of mutilated/decapitated burials (9/38, almost a quarter) is anyone’s guess. It is of course impossible to know whether the burials disturbed by the construction of the Civil War gun platform had a similar proportion of decapitations, since the bones were all jumbled together in the mound anyway. If they did not, the Belle Vue site could perhaps represent a particular area of the cemetery used for burials in unusual circumstances (e.g. casualties of violence or judicial executions) or unusual individuals (e.g. strangers or followers of an unusual religion). If the Belle Vue burials were representative of the whole cemetery, that may suggest some specific feature of the population it served and/or the funeral rites in use. In the absence of more evidence, the significance (if any) of the mutilated/decapitated burials is speculative.

In the absence of absolute dating evidence, such as radiocarbon dates, the date of the cemetery rests on interpretation of the character of the graves and the small number of grave goods. As mentioned above, the orientation of the graves and the lack of grave goods is consistent with Christian burial. Bede’s Ecclesiastical History tells us that Northumbria ‘officially’ converted to Christianity with the conversion of Eadwine (Edwin) of Deira in 626-627 (Bede Book II Ch. 9, 14). If one assumes that there were no Christians in York prior to this date (an assumption!), that suggests the Lamel Hill/Belle Vue cemetery dates to the second quarter of the seventh century or later. This is consistent with the few grave goods. However, it is noteworthy that one of the grave goods (the iron knife) is described as ‘post-Roman’, one as ‘Anglian’ (the pottery sherd) and the others as ‘probably Anglian’ (the unspecified iron objects from Belle Vue). This may indicate that the date range for the cemetery that is consistent with the grave goods could include the period before 626, as the Anglian period in York is conventionally considered to span the period from the mid fifth century to the Viking conquest in 867 (Tweddle 1999, p 115).

Most of the burials at Belle Vue did not have associated grave goods, and none of the burials at Lamel Hill did. Assuming that the dates of the burials without grave goods can be extrapolated from the dates of those with grave goods relies on the assumption that all the burials were of similar date. In the absence of evidence, this is a reasonable assumption, but still an assumption. It is not uncommon for quite a small modern village churchyard to have headstones dating from the eighteenth or nineteenth centuries to the present day, a range of a couple of centuries or so. Maybe the same could apply in earlier periods. Tweddle et al suggest that burials at Belle Vue probably proceeded from the east (p 172); if I understand this correctly, this suggests that earlier burials were to the east and later burials to the west. Lamel Hill is east of Belle Vue, so if this hypothesis is correct, the Lamel Hill burials could pre-date the Belle Vue burials with the ‘post-Roman’ knife and the Anglian pottery sherd. This could be consistent with a wider date range for the cemetery, perhaps starting earlier than the ‘official’ conversion to Christianity in 626-7.

As mentioned in the previous post on documentary sources for post-Roman York, the Annales Cambriae contains an enigmatic reference that may be to York:

501 Bishop Ebur rests in Christ, he was 350 years old.

--Annales Cambriae

As discussed in the earlier post, the similarity of the name ‘Ebur’ to the name of a previous Bishop of York (Eborius) who attended the Council of Arles in 314 and the Roman name for York (Eburacum or Eboracum), not to mention the current title of the modern Archbishop of York (Ebor), this enigmatic reference may indicate the presence of a Christian bishop in York in or around 501 AD. If so, the bishop presumably had a flock. This could be consistent with the presence of a Christian population in York after the end of Roman administration and before 626-7. It seems to me to be at least possible that the Lamel Hill cemetery could have served such a population before the ‘official’ conversion to Christianity in 626-7 recorded by Bede, and continued to serve Christians in the area for some time thereafter. I need hardly say that this is speculative.

Conclusion

The inhumation cemeteries, or cemetery, at Belle Vue and Lamel Hill are consistent with the presence of a population in or near York following Christian burial practices at some time in the post-Roman period. The Roman artefacts, including a sarcophagus lid, may indicate that the cemetery was on or near the site of a Roman cemetery. If both Belle Vue and Lamel Hill are parts of the same cemetery, this suggests that it was extensive. The scarcity of dating evidence makes it difficult to give a definitive date range for the cemetery. The usual interpretation that the cemetery started in the seventh century seems to rest on an assumption that there were no Christians in York before Eadwine’s conversion in 626-7. This seems to me rather a large assumption. As far as I can see, there is nothing in the few grave goods to rule out an earlier start date for the cemetery. An earlier date could in turn be consistent with the enigmatic reference to ‘Bishop Ebur’ in Annales Cambriae, which may indicate the presence of a Christian bishop, and by extension a Christian population, in York before 626-7. As so often in this period, many interpretations are possible.

References
Annales Cambriae, available online
Bede, Ecclesiastical History of the English People, Translated by Leo Sherley-Price, Penguin, 1990, ISBN 0-14-044565-X
English Heritage, Lamel Hill, available online
Tweddle D, Moulden J, Logan E. Anglian York: a survey of the evidence. Council for British Archaeology/York Archaeological Trust, 1999. ISBN 1-902771-06-0.

Map links
York

July recipe: Gooseberry pie

Early to mid-July is the peak season for gooseberries, those delicious and versatile culinary berries that can be used to make gooseberry fool, gooseberry meringue pie and gooseberry jam, among others.

This recipe is for a simple gooseberry pie topped with a rich and crumbly pastry that is halfway between shortcrust pastry and shortbread. It is especially nice served cold a day or two after being made. You can use either green or red gooseberries, or a mixture.

Gooseberry pie (serves 6)

Pastry
6 oz (approx 150 g) plain flour
1.5 Tablespoons (1.5 x 15 ml spoons) icing sugar
3 oz (approx 75 g) butter
1.5 oz (approx 40 g) lard
Approx 1 Tablespoon (approx 1 x 15 ml spoon) cold water to mix

Gooseberry filling
1.5 lb oz (approx 700 g) gooseberries
3 oz (approx 75 g) light brown soft sugar

To make the filling

Wash the gooseberries. Top and tail them (i.e. cut off the stalk at one end and the remains of the flower at the other).

Put the gooseberries in shallow heatproof pie dish approximately 8” (approx 20 cm) diameter.

Sprinkle the sugar on top of the gooseberries, and mix in.

To make the pastry

Rub the butter and lard into the flour and icing sugar until the mixture resembles fine breadcrumbs.

Gradually add sufficient water to mix to a soft dough. If the mixture is floury and flaky you need a little more water. If it is sticky you have added too much water; add a little more flour. (Or you could use ready-made pastry if you prefer).

Roll out the pastry thickly to make a circle just a little bigger than the pie dish.

Place the pastry on top of the gooseberries and sugar in the pie dish and trim the surplus pastry off from the edge.

Roll out the pastry trimmings and cut into pastry leaves for decoration (or other decoration of your choice).

Brush the top of the pie with milk, and sprinkle with a little granulated sugar.

Bake in a hot oven, approx 180 C, for approximately 30 minutes until the pastry is golden brown.

Serve warm or cold, with cream, natural yoghurt or ice cream. The pie will keep for several days in the fridge.

I expect to get 6 slices out of this recipe, but that depends how big a slice you like.

The Spanish Bride, by Georgette Heyer. Book review

First published 1940. Edition reviewed: Arrow, 2005, ISBN 978-0-09-947445-6. 422 pages.

Set in 1812-1815 in Spain, Portugal, France, England and Belgium, The Spanish Bride tells the true story of Harry Smith, officer in the 95th Rifles, and his Spanish bride Juana de los Dolores de Leon. All the main characters are historical figures.

Harry Smith is an able and energetic young officer in the Rifles, serving with Wellington’s army in the war against Napoleon in Spain and Portugal and already a veteran at 25. After the horrors of the assault on the Spanish city of Badajos and the atrocities committed by British troops in the subsequent sack, a Spanish noblewoman comes to the British camp seeking protection for her young sister Juana. Impetuous as ever, Harry falls in love with Juana on the spot and marries her two days later. Juana refuses to be sent to Harry’s home in England or to travel with the baggage train. Instead, she insists on riding alongside the soldiers, sharing the hardships and dangers of campaigning as Wellington’s army hounds Napoleon’s troops all over the Iberian Peninsula to the final clash at Waterloo.

The Spanish Bride is mainly based on the autobiography of Harry Smith (available online here, and well worth a read). Many of the incidents and anecdotes, and even some of the lines of dialogue, are taken directly from the original. This produces a powerful sense of authenticity, almost as though the reader has stepped into an army camp and joined in the conversation. The book is full of memorable little episodes of the ‘stranger-than-fiction’ type, such as the soldier rescuing Juana’s pet dog from a battlefield and keeping it in his knapsack all day until he can return it to Juana in the evening, Wellington’s ingenious solution to the problem of using Spanish money in France, and the astonished delight of the French civilian population when they realise that this invading army actually pays for what it requisitions, in marked contrast to their own troops.

The romance in The Spanish Bride is unusual, as Harry and Juana fall in love and marry instantly, so there is almost none of the ‘will they get together in the end?’ suspense that classically drives a romance plot. Instead, the suspense comes more from the question ‘will they both survive?’ Harry is of course exposed to the dangers of battle, and his oft-repeated assurances to Juana that he is indestructible sit in uneasy contrast with the death or serious injury of one friend after another. Juana herself comes under fire on occasion, and there are all the hazards of travel in wild country, such as fording rivers in spate or climbing unstable mountain paths.

The progress of the war is at least as much a focus as the relationship between Harry and Juana. Troop movements, dispositions and major battles are described in meticulous detail, giving a clear overview of the last two years of the Peninsular War from Badajos to Napoleon’s first abdication in 1814. There is no map in the edition I read, so it is well worth having a modern atlas to hand in order to identify the places and follow the campaign. Although Harry is involved in many of the major battles, The Spanish Bride does not go in for lengthy blood-and-guts battle scenes. (For those, Bernard Cornwell’s Sharpe series of Peninsular War adventure novels are hard to beat). It’s perhaps best described as a vivid portrayal of domestic life for army officers on active service – bivouacs and billets, food shortages when the baggage train has taken the wrong road through the mountains, dealings with the local civilian population, the transient social life of regimental dinners and impromptu balls held in barns with half the roof missing, and of the frequent alarms and unexpected attacks that mean Juana can be quietly ironing her husband’s shirts one minute and fleeing for her life the next.

As well as Harry and Juana, many of the secondary characters are also based on real historical figures, particularly their friends among the other officers of Harry’s brigade. The friendships, antagonisms and rivalries among colleagues, and their opinions (by no means always favourable!) of their superiors, are well portrayed. The relationship between Harry and the apparently foppish Daniel Cadoux is particularly well drawn. Lord Wellington also makes an appearance, a consummate professional who has an irascible temper and no interest in being popular but commands immense respect from the top of the army to the bottom.

A useful author’s note at the beginning outlines the main sources for the story, in addition to Harry’s autobiography. Unfortunately there’s no map, which would have been useful, but the omission can be remedied by finding a modern atlas.

Part love story and part account of the Peninsular War from Badajos in 1812 to Bayonne in 1814, with a coda at Waterloo, this is a dramatised retelling of the story of Harry and Juana Smith based on Harry Smith’s autobiography.

June recipe: Lentil rissoles with garlic and herb sauce

These crisp lentil rissoles are easy to make, and the cold yoghurt and herb sauce is refreshing on a hot day.

You can vary the herbs and the amount of garlic in the sauce according to taste and availability. The rissoles go very well with rice and a green salad.

This quantity should serve two.

Lentil rissoles with garlic and herb sauce

For the rissoles:
4 oz (approx 100 g) split red lentils
8 fl oz (approx 200 ml) water
Half a small onion
1 teaspoon (1 x 5 ml spoon) ground coriander
0.5 teaspoon (1 x 2.5 ml spoon) ground cumin
Approximately 2 teaspoons (2 x 5 ml spoons plain flour for coating

For the sauce:
Approximately 5 fl oz (approx 140 ml) natural yoghurt
Approximately 2 Tablespoons (2 x 15 ml spoons) fresh herbs (oregano, mint, sage, basil, chives, or any mixture of your choice)
1 large clove garlic

To make the rissoles:
Put the lentils in a small saucepan with the water, bring to the boil, and simmer over a very low heat for 15-20 minutes until the lentils have absorbed all the water and formed a soft mass. Stir from time to time to stop the lentils sticking to the pan.

Chop the onion. Fry in cooking oil over a medium heat for a few minutes until soft and beginning to colour.

Stir the onion and spices into the cooked lentils and season with salt and pepper.

Divide the lentil mixture into four, and form between your hands into four roughly circular rissoles about 1 cm thick. Coat each rissole in the plain flour.

Fry the rissoles in cooking oil over a medium heat for 1-2 minutes. Turn the rissoles and fry the other side for 1-2 minutes. Lower the heat and continue to fry for another 3-5 minutes each side, turning once more, until the rissoles are golden brown.

To make the sauce:
Chop the herbs. Crush the garlic. Mix both into the yoghurt

Spoon the sauce over the rissoles to serve. Serve with rice or new potatoes and a green salad.

Post-Roman York: cremation cemeteries

York was an important military, ecclesiastical and political centre in Late Roman Britain. In the early seventh century it was under royal control of the Anglian (‘Anglo-Saxon’) kings of Deira, and later in the seventh century it developed into a major ecclesiastical centre and the seat of an archbishopric, a status it holds to this day.

In between, the historical record is a blank. There are no definite references to York between the fourth century and the seventh century, although there are one or two snippets whose meaning is less than clear (see earlier post on Post-Roman York: the documentary evidence) for a summary of the documentary records). Evidence from archaeology provides some clues that may help to fill in the gap. I discussed the headquarters building in an earlier post. This post discusses the Anglian cremation cemeteries at The Mount and Heworth in post-Roman York

Evidence

The Mount
The area around the modern streets of The Mount and Driffield Terrace, York, was the site of an important Roman cemetery.

Map link here
The arrow shows the location of The Mount. The scale is currently set to show the location of the cemetery in relation to the rest of the city. Zoom in for a detailed view showing the street names.

Roman law forbade the burial of dead in urban areas, and The Mount Roman cemetery was outside the south-western walls of the civilian city (the colonia) on the west bank of the River Ouse. It was a large cemetery along the main Roman road approaching York from the south-west, and the part of the cemetery around the junction with modern Albemarle Road (see map link above) was on a local high point. Prestigious memorials and monuments lined the main road, such as the tombstone of the wealthy lady Julia Velva, now in the Yorkshire Museum. Less elaborate Roman burials have been found in the lower-lying area around Trentholme Drive near Knavesmire Road (see map link above), suggesting that wealthy individuals had monuments in the prominent location on the high ground and that more ordinary people were buried in the less prestigious area lower down the hill (Ottaway 2004, p.122). A group of burials in coffins recently excavated at Driffield Terrace (see map link above) contained an unusually high proportion of decapitated adult males, leading to speculation that they may represent gladiators despatched in the arena after losing fights (Hunter-Mann 2006). Burials from the Roman cemetery have been dated to the mid-second century to the early fourth century (Ottaway 2004, p 121).

In the mid-nineteenth century, an unknown number of Anglian cremation urns were found during building work on the north-east side of Dalton Terrace (see map link above) (Tweddle 1999, p 169-170). Six survive, and fragments of a further eight were found in the fill of a nineteenth-century culvert excavated in the 1950s in the same area. A pair of iron shears, a fragment of bone comb and a coin of the Empress Julia Domna (wife of the Roman Emperor Septimius Severus, who died at York in 211) survive from one of the urns. Another bone comb fragment was found with the other urn fragments in the 1950s excavation. The urns are approximately dated to the late fifth to sixth century (Tweddle 1999, p 170), and indicate an Anglian (‘Anglo-Saxon’) cremation cemetery either in the same area as or adjoining the earlier Roman cemetery (Tweddle 1999, p 167, 170).

Heworth
Another Anglian cremation cemetery of broadly similar date was identified during railway construction work in the late nineteenth century on the west side of Dodsworth Avenue, north-east of the Roman military fortress site at York.

Map link here
The arrow shows the location of Dodsworth Avenue. The scale is currently set to show the location of the cemetery in relation to the rest of the city. Zoom in for a detailed view showing the street names.

About 80 to 90 urns were identified, of which 40 were taken to the Yorkshire Museum, apparently laid out in rows about two feet apart and aligned at right-angles to the ridge and furrow of a ploughed surface (Tweddle 1999, p 235). More had been destroyed before the Yorkshire Museum was notified. Several urns contained glass beads fused by heat , another contained some gaming pieces, and one contained a pair of copper-alloy tweezers. A further ten urns were discovered in a second excavation in 1880. The urns are dated to the late fifth and sixth centuries (Tweddle 1999, p 235). Later excavations in 1965 confirmed that the whole cemetery appeared to have been destroyed in the construction work (Tweddle 1999, p 170).

A Roman cemetery is known nearby, but it was located further south along Dodsworth Avenue near the junction with Heworth Green, which follows the line of the Roman road running north-east towards Malton (Tweddle 1999, p 170). There is nothing to show whether the Anglian cemetery was positioned in relation to the earlier Roman cemetery. However, an enigmatic note from 1879 mentions ‘a Saxon urn found at the side of the tumulus in the garden at Heworth’ and a drawing from 1920 shows a mound near the bend in the River Foss between the Roman and Anglian cemetery sites at Heworth (Tweddle 1999, p 173-5) (roughly at the site of St John’s Walk in the map link above). This may indicate a second Anglian cemetery in the area.

Interpretation

Clearly, the cremation burials at The Mount and Heworth indicate the presence of a group of people who liked to cremate their dead and bury the ashes, sometimes with grave goods, in pottery urns of ‘Anglo-Saxon’ design. The cremations are dated approximately to the late fifth and sixth century. Unfortunately, as the cemeteries were identified during nineteenth-century building work and the original number of burials is not known, it is not possible to estimate the size of the associated population.

It seems reasonable to infer that the people who buried their dead in the cremation cemeteries lived somewhere nearby. This may have been within the area of the Roman city or in the surrounding countryside, or both.

The cremation cemetery at The Mount was either adjoining the Roman cemetery or on part of the same site, and that at Heworth was only a few hundred yards from a Roman cemetery. This could indicate some form of continuity of use. It is interesting that similar continuity of use has been recorded at the Roman fort of Burgh Castle in Norfolk, where the Roman military cemetery outside the fort was also the site of an early ‘Anglo-Saxon’ cremation cemetery (discussed in my earlier post Burgh Castle: Cnobheresburg?).

Such continuity could be official, if there was a governing authority in fifth- and sixth-century York that designated and enforced certain sites as recognised places of burial.

It could be religious or spiritual, if an established burial ground was recognised as sacred in some way and therefore suitable as a last resting place, or if an established burial ground was considered likely to be haunted by spirits and therefore a place unsuitable for occupation or use by the living.

It could reflect a desire for some sort of connection with previous inhabitants, perhaps claiming inheritance or a shared heritage. This could even reflect a tradition (real or imagined) of direct familial descent. The Roman Army recruited Germanic soldiers and traded goods and supplies across the North Sea. It is possible that families established by Germanic soldiers or traders who settled in or near York may have retained sufficient of their Germanic heritage to choose to use a Germanic burial rite, perhaps to signal a change of status, identity or religion, for a burial in an established Roman cemetery where previous members of the family had been interred. Alternatively, if the legend of Vortigern recruiting Hengest and Horsa as mercenary soldiers reflects a genuine situation in which a post-Roman political authority in Britain recruited Germanic mercenaries, perhaps from families or areas with a tradition of supplying recruits to the Late Roman Army, some may have had ancestors (real or imagined) who had previously served in the Roman Army and been buried in the Roman cemetery at York. The coin of Julia Domna, wife of Septimius Severus, in one of the cremation urns from The Mount may represent such a perceived Roman heritage (“We came over with Emperor Severus, you know”). It is not beyond the bounds of possibility that it was a family heirloom, handed down through generations from an ancestor who really had served in Severus’ army during his campaign in Caledonia until it was interred, perhaps with the last of the line on the family burial plot. I need hardly add that this is speculation.

It could reflect practical convenience. The memorials, tombstones, sarcophagi and mausolea of the Roman cemetery would still have been visible in the fifth and sixth centuries. It is possible that they made the area impractical for cultivation and therefore suitable for use as a burial ground by default, even if the people concerned felt no connection with the people buried there during Roman times.

It could reflect nothing more than geography (the one thing about history that never changes, as the saying goes). The Mount is on high ground next to a major routeway, and therefore a good place to locate a prominent grave.

Conclusion

The cremation cemeteries at The Mount and Heworth indicate the presence of a population somewhere in the vicinity of York in the fifth and sixth centuries who chose to cremate their dead and bury the ashes, sometimes with grave goods, in ‘Anglo-Saxon’ pottery urns in or near Roman cemeteries. Since over a hundred urns have been recorded, it seems likely that the population using this funeral rite was substantial rather than tiny, but its size and longevity cannot be determined. It also seems likely that the population using the cemeteries lived in or near York, but whether they lived within the Roman settlement or in the surrounding countryside, or a mixture of both, is unknown.

The apparent mixture of a characteristically pagan Anglian funeral rite (cremation and burial of the ashes with grave goods) in use at Roman locations (established Roman cemeteries) is interesting. As noted above, it is not unique as a similar combination occurs at the Roman military site of Burgh Castle Roman Fort (and those are just two that I happen to know about, not an exhaustive sample). The significance of this is unknown, and largely open to speculation. It could indicate some sort of mixed culture with Anglian and Roman elements, a new culture trying to claim a link with the past, pure coincidence reflecting geography or practical land use, or any number of other variations. As so often in this period, many interpretations are possible.

References
Hunter-Mann, K. Romans lose their heads: an unusual cemetery at The Mount, York. York Archaeological Trust, 2006, Archaeology of York Web Series No. 6, available online
Ottaway P. Roman York. Tempus, 2004. ISBN 0-7524-2916-7.
Tweddle D, Moulden J, Logan E. Anglian York: a survey of the evidence. Council for British Archaeology/York Archaeological Trust, 1999. ISBN 1-902771-06-0.

Map links
York

Helvellyn and Grisedale

Helvellyn is one of the four Lake District fells standing over 3000 feet above sea level. Helvellyn itself is the highest point on a long mountain ridge that runs almost due north-south in the centre of the Lake District in Cumbria. The ridge extends for around 10 kilometres (6 miles) from Clough Head in the north to Dollywaggon Pike in the south, separating the valleys holding the lakes of Thirlmere and Ullswater.

Map link here
You can zoom in to see more detail and move around using the arrow keys.

Its central position means the views from the ridge on a clear day encompass the Pennines to the east, Morecambe Bay to the south, the Solway Firth and the hill of Criffel in Scotland to the north, and the Scafell mountain range to the west. The full traverse of the Helvellyn range from north to south – like walking the ridge-pole on the roof of Cumbria – is a magnificent walk for a long day.

Many shorter routes to Helvellyn summit and/or other parts of the range can be done from either the west (Thirlmere) side or the east (Ullswater) side of the ridge. The most famous is to climb Striding Edge from Glenridding in the east, an airy arete left by two glaciers in the corries on either side eating back towards each other during the last Ice Age. However, Striding Edge is quite a short route, and lands you directly on Helvellyn summit without seeing much of the rest of the ridge. My favourite route to Helvellyn is a longer route, starting from Patterdale or Glenridding and following the quiet valley of Grisedale to Grisedale Tarn, then climbing onto the southern end of the ridge at Dollywaggon Pike and following the ridge over Nethermost Pike to Helvellyn summit, with splendid views of Striding Edge close at hand and most of the rest of Cumbria in the distance.

Map link here
The map is centred on Grisedale; if you use the arrows to move south and west you can follow the valley to Grisedale Tarn and then north onto Dollywaggon Pike, Nethermost Pike and then Helvellyn.
Click on the photographs to enlarge.


View up Grisedale. The grey rocky peaks in the background (about 3 miles away) are Dollywaggon Pike and Nethermost Pike. ‘Grisedale’ is a Norse name meaning ‘valley of the pigs’. Presumably the valley was suitable for raising pigs, perhaps in woodland. The origin of the name ‘Dollywaggon Pike’ is not known – ‘Pike’ is a local Cumbrian word meaning a rocky or pointed peak, but ‘Dollywaggon’ is open to speculation.

The route goes up Grisedale to the head of the valley at Grisedale Tarn, tucked away in a hollow between the mountains of Dollywaggon Pike, Fairfield and Seat Sandal. From the tarn, an old pack-horse track zig-zags up the green shoulder of Dollywaggon Pike.

Looking down on Grisedale Tarn from the path up Dollywaggon Pike.

Legend has it that King Dunmail of Cumbria, after being defeated in battle at the Pass of Dunmail Raise just to the west, threw his crown into Grisedale Tarn as he fled. Or that the mortally wounded king gave the crown to a loyal retainer, who threw it into the tarn for him. There was at least one historical king Dunmail associated with Cumbria in the middle of the tenth century (see Diane McIlmoyle’s article on King Dunmail and the associated legends), who may be connected with, or the same individual as, King Dyfnwal of Strathclyde (see Tim Clarkson’s post on Dyfnwal of Strathclyde). So there may be a grain of truth in the stories.

From the summit of Dollywaggon Pike, a magnificent view opens up back down Grisedale, with a glimpse of Ullswater and the Pennine range spread out along the eastern horizon. The Pennines are about 25 miles away.

View down Grisedale from Dollywaggon Pike

From here, it’s a matter of following the ridge north. At the next summit, Nethermost Pike, the rocky arete of Striding Edge comes into view, jutting out from the east face of Helvellyn.

Striding Edge from Nethermost Pike


Close-up of Striding Edge, with a party of walkers traversing the arete.

From Helvellyn, most of Ullswater is visible, still with the Pennines in the distance

View east to Ullswater and the Pennines from Helvellyn

To the north, the Solway Firth is just visible in the distance (zoom in), and the distant hills on the far horizon are in Scotland – around 45-50 miles away.


View north to Skiddaw and Bassenthwaite Lake, with the Solway Firth and Scotland in the distance

The route continues north along the ridge to Sticks Pass, where an old pack-horse route crosses the range and provides a relatively easy descent back to Glenridding. The grey patches in the middle distance are old spoil heaps from lead mining.


Track descending from Sticks Pass to Glenridding

The track was built to carry lead ore by pack horse from the mine at Greenside above Glenridding to the smelter at Keswick. Greenside Mine closed in the 1960s, and the old mine buildings are now a youth hostel and bunkhouse.


Birds’-eye view of Greenside Mine from the path to Sticks Pass.

From Greenside Mine a track and then a road lead back to Glenridding.

The Prow Beast, by Robert Low. Book review

Fourth in the Oathsworn series, following The Whale Road (reviewed here earlier), The Wolf Sea (reviewed here earlier) and The White Raven (reviewed here earlier), The Prow Beast is set in Scandinavia and what is now Poland in 975-976. Olaf Tryggvason (Crowbone), later King of Norway, Queen Sigrith of Sweden and Styrbjorn, nephew of King Erik of Sweden, are historical (or at least, saga) figures. All the main characters are fictional.

After their quest for the cursed treasure of Attila’s tomb (recounted in the first three books, particularly The Whale Road and The White Raven), Orm and the Oathsworn have achieved fame across the Norse world. Orm has married and is now a man of consequence, presiding over his jarl’s hall and lands at Hestreng in newly unified Sweden. Orm is entrusted with fostering Koll, the young son of Jarl Brand, and also with escorting Queen Sigrith, wife of King Erik the Victorious of Sweden, home to Uppsala. But although fame is the dream of every Norse warrior, it is the gift of Odin and carries a characteristically bitter price. When old enemies come to Hestreng with fire and sword, Orm and the Oathsworn must take ship again, following the ‘prow beast’ to revenge, violence and heartbreak.

Like its three predecessors, The Prow Beast is a larger-than-life tale, “a saga to be told around the fire against the closing dark”, as the author puts it. Like the others, it captures some of the grim grandeur of the Norse sagas (not an easy feat), with men who recognise their harsh fate and go out to meet it with courage and black humour. The series has been getting steadily darker in tone since the first book, no doubt reflecting Orm’s development from youth to battle-hardened jarl, and The Prow Beast is darker yet. The Oathsworn have always been hard and ruthless men; in The Prow Beast their savagery reaches a new depth. Orm himself has become a doom-laden, brooding figure, reminiscent of the fearsome Einar the Black in The Whale Road (and reminding me of Skarp-Hedin as his fate closes around him in Njal’s Saga). There is a tremendous sense of authenticity about the pagan Norse culture, not just the gods and rituals but also the world-view of inescapable fate and ‘fair fame’, that gives the Oathsworn series a feeling of depth underlying the adventures. The writing style reinforces this, with some of the laconic style of the sagas and liberally sprinkled with vivid imagery reminiscent of Norse kennings.

Characterisation is as vivid as ever, and readers will be pleased to see the return of old friends from the previous books, such as Finn Horsehead from Skane who fears nothing (in The Prow Beast the reader finds out why), giant Botolf who can be alternately genial and ferocious, Red Njal with his granny’s endless store of proverbial wisdom (I can’t help thinking that Red Njal’s granny could have written most of the Havamal [‘Sayings of the High One’]), and young Olaf Crowbone with his uncanny insights and fund of sharp stories. Not everyone will make it to the end (though any reader familiar with the previous three books will already have guessed this). The ending itself has a satisfying bleakness that fits well with what has gone before. Whether this really is the end or whether there is scope for further adventures for the remaining Oathsworn is hard to tell – certainly Olaf Crowbone’s story has much further to run to catch up with his historical career.

A useful map at the front helps readers unfamiliar with the geography of the Baltic and eastern Europe to follow the Oathsworn’s journey, and a historical note at the back sets out some of the underlying history. I have a nagging feeling that I have read something very similar to the episode of Queen Sigrith and Botolf somewhere before, so maybe that also occurs in one of the sagas, although it isn’t explicitly identified as such in the historical note.

Dark, gripping adventure with a strong sense of pagan Norse culture, following the adventures of a Norse warrior band in the tenth century.