Dark Age Dorset #3: The Battery Banks

Worgret Heath (Photo credit: Mike Rowland)

The Battery Banks are a small series of discontinuous earthworks, snaking south-east along the river Piddle and Frome from Stoke Heath to Wareham. Most of it has been destroyed by field ploughing or later development, but the surviving sections of the Banks form part of a number of small dykes around in southern Dorset, such as Comb's Ditch, south of Blandford, and the Worgret Dykes situated on Worgret heath, immediately south of Wareham. 

Like the larger Bokerley and Grim's Dyke in the north of Dorset, these dykes were originally Bronze Age boundary markers, perhaps for delineating fields or enclosures, but were repurposed during the late Roman and post-Roman period, defending the strategically important settlement of Wareham from outside incursion. In this sense, they can be seen as the precursor to the Saxon walls of Wareham, built as part of Alfred the Great's burh system to defend the realm from Viking raiders. 

In its intact state, the Banks and its accompanying dykes (including a number of 'cross-ridge dykes' that stopped an invading force from attacking along ridges) cut off the isle of Purbeck from the north. Exactly when they were used actively as a means of defence is unknown, as unlike Bokerley dyke no Roman coins have been found associated with the Banks, which have been used to date the stages of Bokerley's construction. 

In the post-Roman period, if the Banks were used for a military purpose it could have been patrolled by small groups of cavalry, there to summon the local militia of Wareham and the surrounding farmland in the event that a Saxon warband, or a rogue Dumnonian princeling, came barrelling southward. Interestingly, the construction of the Banks and the dykes themselves suggests a level of coordination that would not be the case if Wareham was simply an ecclesial hamlet or a fishing village with little relevance to the ruling elite of the day. This is despite the fact that Wareham, as Werham, is first mentioned in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle in 784, its name meaning a small fishing homestead. What, then, might have made defending Wareham and the isle of Purbeck necessary? Much larger earthworks, such as South Cadbury or Dunster Castle, fell to the Saxons through disuse rather than a military confrontations, and there is no sign that Maiden Castle was ever refortified to defend Duronovaria/Caer Durnac against enemy attack. 

There is one entry in the Anglo-Saxon chronicle, though, that might explain the earthworks. In 682, the ASC records that Centwine, the West Saxon king, 'drove the Britons into the sea', which cannot refer to the Britons of Dumnonia/Cornwall, as Egbert was the first to accomplish this feat following the Battle of Gafulforda in 825 and Hingston Down in 838. It could refer to a defeat of the Britons still living independent of Wessex's control in the marshes of Somerset and along the Severn, but by then Dumnonia, nor any other Briton polity, had control over the area, so there would not have been a reason to wage war against them. According to Aldhelm's Carmina Ecclesiastica (written in the late 7th century), Centwine won three great battles during his reign, at least one of which might be connected with the ASC entry. 

The fact that the Carmina also states that Centwine was a pagan might support a possible campaign against the Britons of southern Dorset; the church of Lady Saint Mary was evidently visited by high-states individuals, and recent excavations in Poundbury have shown that Christian burials continued during this period, continuing Romano-British patterns of burial. Given the bitter ecclesiastic schism between the Celtic and Anglo-Saxon church that reached its zenith by the turn of the 8th century, an attack against Christian Britons might not have been viewed entirely negatively by Centwine's Christian courtiers and bishops; after all, it would amount to another bishopric or two under their control. 

To conclude, while the Battery Banks and adjacent dykes are slim evidence in themselves for the socio-political landscape of post-Roman Dorset, together with the Bokerley Dyke and other certified Dark Age sites in Dorset, they add to a picture of a highly defensive and localised society, eager to protect the ways which their mothers and fathers had followed at any cost. 

Dark Age Dorset #2: Bokerley Dyke from the fourth to seventh centuries C.E.

 

Photo copyright: Mike Rowland 26/06/07

The series of earthworks known collectively as the Bokerley Dyke straddles Dorset and Hampshire, near Martin Down and Cranbourne Chase, where another earthwork known as the Grim's Dyke runs. The dyke was first constructed either in the Late Bronze or Early Iron Age, possibly marking a tribal boundary between the Durotriges (the 'inhabitants of the hard ground') and the Atrebates, a Belgic tribe with connections to mainland Gaul. 

Archaeological evidence and Caesar's accounts testify to the Belgae being a well-established confederation that expanded across the Channel between 200 and 100 B.C.E, establishing tribal centres in Venta Belgarum (Winchester) and Calleva Atrebatum (Silchester). The Durotriges may well have been forced out of their homeland by the Belgae, and to avoid further conflict, constructed the Bokerely Dyke (as well as the Grim's Dyke nearby) to clearly demarcate their territory. The dyke was probably not guarded as a military frontier, but it must have held a symbolic importance, as shortly after the Roman conquest the Ackerely Dyke, a road running from Sorviodunum to Vindocladia, was paved right through the old dyke, as well as through neolithic barrows, a clear message that Rome would not recognise 'barbarian' boundaries and ancestral sites. 

For the next three hundred years, little changed, until around 325 C.E, when the Roman road running through the dyke was blocked. No usurpers or local rebellions are documented for this period in Roman Britain, so it's unclear why this happened. Perhaps it had something to do with Constantine's reorganisation of the army in 326, with forces split into tribally-aligned comitatenses and limitanei in frontier provinces. By the later fourth century at least, the Durotriges were regarded as a distinct tribal entity who were recruited for repairing Roman infrastructure such as Hadrian's Wall; Constantine's reforms might have emboldened local tribal elites to restore their old defences. Archaeologist, C.F.C. Hawkes, drawing on the research of Pitt-Rivers. Limitanei also served as an ad-hoc police force in some areas, and tended to their own farmland. The Bokerley dyke's rebuilding might then have been a response to local banditry.

The next stage in the development of Bokerley Dyke happened, according to C.F.C. Hawke, Pitt-Rivers and others, after 364, where the Roman road was fully blocked and the dyke was extended northward. This can probably be connected with the Great Conspiracy of 367 - 9, where local tribal authorities, who were entrusted with Britain's defence and are called by Ammias Marcinellinus areani or arcani, (meaning 'sheep-farmers' or 'the secret ones'), openly collaborated with Picts, Scots, Saxons and Attacotti (probably Irish tribes) to overthrow Roman civil administration as far as Londinium. The fact that part of the dyke that blocked the road was apparently a decade or so later removed suggests that its construction was either an emergency barrier against the invaders and their Romano-British allies, or that local Britons rebuilt the dyke, exploiting the sudden absence of Roman authority to restore old tribal boundaries. 

At some point after 393, the dyke was again extended; the usurpations of Magnus Maximus and Eugenius must have had a considerable affect on the local population, particularly conscripted soldiers and their families who had been poorly paid and sent to fight in faraway provinces for poorly understood religious motives, which was evident at the Battle of the Frigidus in 393. Welsh tradition in the form of genealogies imply that Maximus organised, or allowed the independence of, frontier kingdoms with their own dynasties, incorporating Irish immigrants as foederati in Demetia (Dyfed), Venedotia (Gwynedd), or restoring pre-Roman polities such as Venta Silurum (Gwent), once the tribal capital of the Silures. A similar situation occurred right after the Great Conspiracy north of Hadrian's wall, with the genealogies of Strathclyde and Gododdin (Lothian) listing regional rulers called Clemens and Paternus, respectively. Perhaps the Durotriges, like the Dumnonii were to later, attempted to run affairs independently as Roman rule disintegrated, although no written evidence proves this. 

In the immediate post-Roman period, civilian life clung on to major urban centres, as it was not until the end of the 5th century that major hillforts in and around Dorset and the West Country, such as the famous South Cadbury/Camalet hillfort, were reoccupied as watchpoints and power centres of regional lords. Gloucester (Glevum/Glouvia) remained a bustling urban settlement for some time, as did Winchester (Venta/Cair Guinntguic), where in the 420s St. Germanus most likely converted Elafius, one of the 'leading men of the country' according to his vita, as well as Dorchester (Duronovaria/Cair Durnac). This might explain why the Roman road was not closed off in these period. 

Pitt-Rivers' discovery of cattle bones buried in nearby enclosures suggests a possible function for the dyke as a defence against cattle raiding, as pastoralism became more widespread with the collapse of trade and exchange. The importance of cattle is evident not just from archaeology, such as at Yeavering, where an enclosure built to store cattle carcasses given as tribute was used in the late fifth and early sixth centuries, but in the heroic poetry of the period, both in Britain and Ireland. 

Overall, though, it likely returned to being a tribal defensive boundary as it had been before the Romans arrived, much like the Wansdyke to the west, although that was mostly built in the post-Roman period in two stages; in the late 5th century, during the low point of the Romano-British defence before the Battle of Mons Badonicus and other victories, and in the late 6th century, as a doomed measure to hold back Wessex and the Hwicce after the Battle of Deorham in 577. 

The fact that Anglo-Saxon charters refer to Bokerley dyke simply as the 'long ditch', and that lowland British culture appears (as the Lady St Mary's Church in Wareham has shown) to have survived into the mid-7th century, might give weight to the idea that the dyke became a recognised barrier between Saxons and Britons - especially since only one or two Brittonic inscriptions have been found west of the dyke. When it fell out of use is impossible to tell, but the effectiveness of the dykes was clear to later Anglo-Saxon rulers; Offa's dyke, for instance, was built to demarcate Mercia from Powys using existing Iron Age and post-Roman earthworks. 

Dark Age Dorset #1: Lady St Mary's Church, Wareham

Photo by Nigel Chadwick, CC BY-SA 2.0

 Although the Lady St. Mary's Church in Wareham dates from the early 8th century, apparently founded by St Aldhelm, Bishop of Sherbourne at the time, and was rebuilt around 900 and redesigned in 1200 and 1842, five 'Brittonic' inscriptions were found in the church's walls and naves that date back to the 7th century C.E. if not earlier. Their letters are a mix of Roman-style capitals and a contemporary style of lettering known as insular majuscule, found in 6th-century Welsh and Irish inscriptions. 

Their original purpose was probably as memorial stones in the early church's cemetery, before being re-used to support the church walls. Aside from their form and function, the inscriptions are interesting in that all have 'Brittonic' or Latin etymologies, suggesting as late as the end of the 7th century Briton language and culture was still going strong in southern Dorset, despite a string of setbacks beginning with the Battle of Deorham in 577.

The first inscription reads 'VIDCV... FILIVS VIDA'. The style of the lettering is likely 7th century, and when it was complete it probably read VIDCVMI FILIUS VIDAR. This links it to the two Old Welsh names *Guidcu and *Guidar, the former meaning something like 'Well-known kind one'. At the very least, it's a touching memorial to a father and son who undoubetly lived respectable secular lives, perhaps as fishermen along the Frome or farmers selling their produce in Duronovaria/Dornwaracaester.

The second inscription has been identified as late 7th century, reading 'IUDNNE... FILI QUI'. Iudnne in its complete form was most likely Iudnerth, an Old Welsh name found in the Book of Llandaff, which means 'lord-like strength', similar to modern Welsh Idris or Breton Judoc. The other name could be any number of Latin qui- type names, maybe Quintilius or Quintus. What's interesting about these names is that the first could refer to a person of some authority, in the manner of Riothamus, Vortigern or Cadwallon; perhaps Iudnerth was a local magnate or chieftain's son given the honour of a cemetery burial. High-sounding names are quite common though with Briton individuals, for instance Riocatus, a Briton bishop in Burgundy circa 480 mentioned by Sidonius Apollinaris, whose name means 'King of Battle', so it's probably a mistake to draw conclusions on that basis. The fact that Iudnerth was the son of a Roman-named individual, though, does suggest a degree of post-Roman continuity. Perhaps Wareham was a small pocket of lowland Romano-British culture that survived until Wessex's conquests at the end of the 7th century. 

In the third, fourth and fifth inscriptions the names Catgug, Gideon, Deniel, Auprit and Gongoria appear, each with very different etymologies. Catgug in full was probably Catguocaun, meaning 'glorious in battle', Gideon and Deniel are both Old Testament names, while Auprit's etymology is still up for debate. There's the old Welsh word 'pryt', meaning shape, but the au- remains unexplained. The last name, Gongoria, is 8th to 9th century in lettering style, so whoever Gongoria was probably did not meet Catguocaun, Iudnerth or anyone else inscribed in the memorials. The only close parallel to Gongoria is the male old Welsh *Guncar, from the Book of Llandaff.

To summarise, the memorial stones display a mix of Roman, perhaps lingering Romano-British or re-introduced romanitas as a result of Augustine's reintroduction of Christianity, and old Welsh/Brittonic language and custom. Far from being a Saxon sub-tribe as the 9th-century charters and the Domesday Book implies, it seems that people continued living and working as local Britons, just as they had been for centuries. 

I'll have a go at reviewing the archaeological evidence next, to see if the idea that Dorset in the Dark Ages was a cultural backwater holds any weight. 

Dorset in the Dark Ages - an Introduction

To start things off with this blog, I'll be doing some research into a topic I think has been overlooked by histories of the Dark Ages: the history of the Dorset area, which according to inscriptions, archaeology and traditional accounts preserved their lowland Romano-British identity for a good while after the Romans left. I'll try and look as close as possible at the lives of saints, Nennius' Historia Brittonum and the hillforts and earthworks that have survived to compile a better picture of just what was going on between the civitas Durotrigum of Roman Britain and the Dornwarasaete of the Anglo-Saxon period. You can probably expect King Arthur and other figures of historical speculation to show up here and there. 

As I'm only an undergrad archaeology student I'm not looking for any concrete answers; I'm just pursuing an interest in my home county following the very impressive examples of Caitlin Green's research (whose study into the Kingdom of Lindsey is unparalleled) and OldSomerset's posts. 

Any comments or suggestions for this blog are welcome, I'd like to get stuck in with the little historical anomalies of the Dark Ages and Anglo-Saxon period that still confuse historians today.