Northwest Europe in the Early Middle Ages, c. AD 600-1150: A Comparative Archaeology 1107037638, 9781107037632

Table of contents :
List of maps [vii]
List of illustrations [viii]
Acknowledgements [xii]
Maps of places mentioned in the text [xv]
Drawing conventions for site plans [xxiii]
Part I. Context [1]
1. Introduction [3]
2. The social fabric of Northwest Europe, AD 600–1150: paradigms and perspectives [9]
Part II. The Age of the Carolingians, c. AD 600–900 [31]
3. Small farming communities of West Francia, AD 600–900 [33]
4. Larger farming communities, specialist producers and collectors in West Francia, AD 600–900 [57]
5. Farming communities of Anglo-Saxon England and the Atlantic fringes, AD 600–900 [76]
6. Expressions of leadership and models for emulation, AD 500–900 [98]
7. Conspicuous consumption and secular authority in the landscape, AD 650–900 [124]
8 .Diocesan towns, AD 600–900 [151]
9. Ports and maritime-oriented societies, AD 600–900 [178]
Part III. From the Viking Age to Angevin Hegemony, c. AD 900–1150 [213]
10. Transformations in architectures and settings of public power, AD 900–1150 [215]
11. The rural world, AD 900–1150: lifestyles of old and new aristocracies [249]
12. The rural world, AD 900–1150: social mobility, landscape reorganisation and colonisation [274]
13. Major ports and merchant patricians as catalysts for social change, AD 900–1100 [302]
14. Towns as regional centres and urban diversity, AD 900–1150 [328]
15. Final conclusions [361]
Bibliography [368]
Index [433]

Citation preview

Northwest Europe in the Early Middle Ages, c. AD 600–1150

Christopher Loveluck’s study explores the transformation of Northwest Europe (primarily Britain, France and Belgium) from the era of the first post-Roman ‘European Union’ under the Carolingian Frankish kings to the so-called ‘feudal’ age, between c. AD 600 and 1150. During these centuries radical changes occurred in the organisation of the rural world. Towns and complex communities of artisans and merchant–traders emerged and networks of contact between northern Europe, the Mediterranean and the Middle and Far East were redefined, with long-lasting consequences into the present day. Loveluck provides the most comprehensive comparative analysis of the rural and urban archaeological remains in this area for twenty-five years. Supported by evidence from architecture, relics, manuscript illuminations and texts, this book explains how the power and intentions of elites were confronted by the aspirations and actions of the diverse rural peasantry, artisans and merchants, producing both intended and unforeseen social changes.

christopher loveluck is Associate Professor and Reader in Medieval Archaeology at the University of Nottingham. He has directed and co-directed archaeological survey and excavation projects in Britain, Denmark, Belgium and France, and has published four other books as principal author or editor, and numerous articles.

Northwest Europe in the Early Middle Ages, c. AD 600–1150 A Comparative Archaeology

christopher loveluck

University Printing House, Cambridge CB2 8BS, United Kingdom Published in the United States of America by Cambridge University Press, New York Cambridge University Press is part of the University of Cambridge. It furthers the University’s mission by disseminating knowledge in the pursuit of education, learning and research at the highest international levels of excellence. www.cambridge.org Information on this title: www.cambridge.org/9781107037632 © Christopher Loveluck 2013 This publication is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception and to the provisions of relevant collective licensing agreements, no reproduction of any part may take place without the written permission of Cambridge University Press. First published 2013 Printing in the United Kingdom by TJ International Ltd. Padstow Cornwall A catalogue record for this publication is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloguing in Publication data Loveluck, Christopher. Northwest Europe in the early Middle Ages, c. AD 600–1150 : a comparative archaeology / Christopher Loveluck. pages cm Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-1-107-03763-2 (hardback) 1. Europe–History–476–1492. 2. Europe–Social conditions–To 1492. 3. Social history– Medieval, 500–1500. 4. Social change–Europe–History–To 1500. 5. Social archaeology– Europe, Northern. 6. Civilization, Medieval. I. Title. D121.L68 2012 940.10 4–dc23 2013011073 ISBN 978-1-107-03763-2 Hardback Cambridge University Press has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party internet websites referred to in this publication, and does not guarantee that any content on such websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

Contents

List of maps [page vii] List of illustrations [viii] Acknowledgements [xii] Maps of places mentioned in the text [xv] Drawing conventions for site plans [xxiii]

part i

context

[1]

1 Introduction [3] 2 The social fabric of Northwest Europe, AD 600–1150: paradigms and perspectives [9] part ii

the age of the carolingians, c. ad 600–900 [31]

3 Small farming communities of West Francia, AD 600–900 [33] 4 Larger farming communities, specialist producers and collectors in West Francia, AD 600–900 [57] 5 Farming communities of Anglo-Saxon England and the Atlantic fringes, AD 600–900 [76] 6 Expressions of leadership and models for emulation, AD 500–900 [98] 7 Conspicuous consumption and secular authority in the landscape, AD 650–900 [124] 8 Diocesan towns, AD 600–900 [151] 9 Ports and maritime-oriented societies, AD 600–900 [178]

v

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Contents

part iii

from the viking age to angevin hegemony, c. ad 900–1150 [213]

10 Transformations in architectures and settings of public power, AD 900–1150 [215] 11 The rural world, AD 900–1150: lifestyles of old and new aristocracies [249] 12 The rural world, AD 900–1150: social mobility, landscape reorganisation and colonisation [274] 13 Major ports and merchant patricians as catalysts for social change, AD 900–1100 [302] 14 Towns as regional centres and urban diversity, AD 900–1150 [328] 15 Final conclusions Bibliography [368] Index [433]

[361]

Maps

Map 1 Places in northern France and Belgium, dating from between AD 600 and 900, mentioned in the text (L. Wallace) [page xv] Map 2 Places in northern France and Belgium, dating from between AD 900 and 1150, mentioned in the text (L. Wallace) [xvi] Map 3 Places in southern France, northern Iberia and northern Italy, dating from between AD 600 and 1150, mentioned in the text (L. Wallace) [xvii] Map 4 Places in the Netherlands, western Germany and southwestern Scandinavia, dating from between AD 600 and 1150, mentioned in the text (L. Wallace) [xviii] Map 5 Places in southern Britain and southeast Ireland, dating from between AD 600 and 900, mentioned in the text (L. Wallace) [xix] Map 6 Places in northern Britain and northeast Ireland, dating from between AD 600 and 900, mentioned in the text (L. Wallace) [xx] Map 7 Places in southern Britain and southeast Ireland, dating from between AD 900 and 1150, mentioned in the text (L. Wallace) [xxi] Map 8 Places in northern Britain and northeast Ireland, dating from between AD 900 and 1150, mentioned in the text (L. Wallace) [xxii]

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Illustrations

Plan of the settlement at Chessy ‘Le Bois de Paris’, Seine-et-Marne (adapted from Bonin 1999): (a) sixth to eighth centuries; (b) eighth to tenth centuries (L. Wallace). [page 39] Figure 2 Plan of the settlement at Saleux ‘Les Coutures’, Somme (adapted from Catteddu 1997 and 2003) (L. Wallace). [61] Figure 3 Plan of the settlement at Villiers-le-Sec, Val-d’Oise (adapted from Gentili and Valais 2007 and Gentili 2010) (L. Wallace). [66] Figure 4 Plan of the settlement at Riby Crossroads on the edge of the sea marshes, Lincolnshire (adapted from Steedman 1994) (P. Copeland). [82] Figure 5 Plans of the settlements at (a) Carlton Colville, Suffolk (adapted from Lucy, Tipper and Dickens 2009) and (b) Yarnton, Oxfordshire (adapted from Hey 2004) (L. Wallace). [87] Figure 6 Plan of the settlement at Higham Ferrers, Northamptonshire, (adapted from Hardy, Charles and Williams 2007) (L. Wallace). [88] Figure 7 Plan of the settlement at Serris ‘Les Ruelles’, Seine-et-Marne (adapted from Gentili and Valais 2007 and Gentili 2010) (P. Copeland). [109] Figure 8 Plan of the Carolingian monastery–palace settlement at Saint-Denis, Paris (adapted from Wyss 1999) (L. Wallace). [116] Figure 9 Photograph of the gatehouse of the monastery at Lorsch, Westphalia (C. Loveluck). [121] Figure 10 Plan of the settlement at Wicken Bonhunt, Essex, between the mid seventh and later ninth centuries (adapted from Wade 1980) (P. Copeland). [127] Figure 11 Photograph of Reticella-decorated glass drinking vessel fragments from Flixborough, Lincolnshire (after Loveluck 2007a) (Humber Archaeology, Bill Marsden). [129] Figure 1

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List of illustrations

Figure 12 Plan of the settlement at Distré ‘Les Murailles’, Maine-et-Loire (adapted from Gentili and Valais 2007) (P. Copeland). [133] Figure 13 Photograph of metalworking tongs from Flixborough, mid ninth century (after Loveluck 2007a) (Humber Archaeology, Bill Marsden). [138] Figure 14 Photograph of a silver stylus from refuse deposits at Flixborough, mid ninth century (after Loveluck 2007a) (Humber Archaeology, Bill Marsden). [138] Figure 15 Plan of the cathedral group and bishop’s palace at Rouen (eighth to tenth century) (adapted from Le Maho 2006) (L. Wallace). [157] Figure 16 Schematic plan of the polyfocal central place of Tours: (a) c. AD 600 and (b) c. AD 950 (adapted from Galinié et al. 1981–2007) (L. Wallace). [159] Figure 17 Distribution of Ipswich ware, between the Humber estuary and the Fens in eastern England (L. Wallace). [185] Figure 18 Photograph of a Frisian Domburg-type copper alloy brooch, dating from the seventh century, found on the settlement at Stavnsager, East Jutland (R. Fiedel). [197] Figure 19 Drawing of the iron and copper-plated bell from the mid seventh-century smith’s grave at Tattershall Thorpe, Lincolnshire (adapted from Hinton 2000). [209] Figure 20 Schematic plans of enclosed/fortified settlements in northern France and Belgium, between c. AD 850 and 950: (a) ‘Camp de Péran’ at Plédran, Côtes-d’Armor (adapted from Guigon 1997); (b) Petegem, East Flanders (adapted from Callebaut 1994); (c) Locronan, Finistère (adapted from Guigon 1997); and (d) Veurne, West Flanders (adapted from De Meulemeester 1983) (L. Wallace). [217] Figure 21 Photograph of the stone hall (aula) of the Counts of Blois at Doué-la-Fontaine, Maine-et-Loire, built in c. AD 900, and converted into a multi-storeyed donjon during the late tenth to early eleventh century, with the old hall encased in the earthern motte (C. Loveluck). [224] Figure 22 Photograph of the donjon at Langeais, Indre-et-Loire, built by Count Fulk Nerra of Anjou, between c. AD 1000 and 1030 (C. Loveluck). [228]

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List of illustrations

Figure 23 The eleventh-century estate centre-cum-castle and designed landscape at Notre-Dame-de-Gravenchon, Haute-Normandie (adapted from Le Maho 2004b): (a) settlement layout and designed landscape and (b) principal residential focus (L. Wallace). [240] Figure 24 Manuscript illumination showing public feasting in England during the first half of the eleventh century, in a two-storey hall (British Library, BL. MS Cotton Claudius B.IV, fol. 63v; © British Library Board). [253] Figure 25 Illumination from the Cotton Tiberius calendar, made in England during the first half of the eleventh century, showing a wealthy rider hunting cranes and other waterfowl with a falcon (British Library, BL. MS Cotton Tiberius B.V., fol. 7v; © British Library Board). [264] Figure 26 Plans of the settlements at (a) Springfield Lyons, Essex (adapted from Taylor 2005) and (b) Hatch, Hampshire (adapted from Fasham et al. 1995) (L. Wallace). [280] Figure 27 Comparative plans of settlement cores, with hall ranges and courtyard arrangements, interpreted as manorial estate centres: (a) and (b) Raunds–West Cotton, Northamptonshire, c. 950 and c. 1100 (adapted from Chapman 2010); (c) and (d) Goltho, Lincolnshire c. 950 and c.1100 (adapted from Beresford 1987) (L. Wallace). [281] Figure 28 Plan of Raunds–Furnells, Northamptonshire: (a) manorial core, 850–950; (b) manorial core, church and cemetery, 950–1100; (c) the village, 850–1100 (adapted from Audouy and Chapman 2009) (L. Wallace). [283] Figure 29 Plan of the village of Barton Bendish, Norfolk, showing churches founded by freemen before 1066, and the distribution of tenth- to eleventh-century archaeological evidence (adapted from Rogerson and Davison 1997) (L. Wallace). [285]

List of illustrations

Figure 30 Small estate centres in France and Rhineland Germany, c. 1000–1150: (a) Charavines–Colletière, Dauphiné; (b) Haus Meer, Kreis Neuss; (c) Montbaron, Indre (a, adapted from Collardelle and Verdel 1993; b, adapted from Janssen and Janssen 1999; c, adapted from Querrien with Blanchard 2004) (L. Wallace). [288] Figure 31 Photograph of the hall–donjon at Manorbier castle, Pembrokeshire, seat of the de Barri family of Giraldus Cambrensis, built in the mid twelfth century (C. Loveluck). [297] Figure 32 Plan of the area within the Late Roman walls of Rouen, Normandy, probably reorganised with a new street layout during the 930s, under Duke William Longsword (adapted from Gauthiez 1993 and 2003) (L. Wallace). [307] Figure 33 London–Lundenburh, c. 900–1100: churches founded by moneyers and goldsmiths (in black), and excavated sites (in grey; waterfronts, location dots only) (adapted from Nightingale 1995 and Milne 2003, with additions) (L. Wallace). [317] Figure 34 Distribution of eleventh- to twelfth-century Romanesque town-houses of wealthy merchant–patricians in Ghent (adapted from Laleman and Raveschot 1994 and Verhulst 1999) (L. Wallace). [340] Figure 35 Photographs of the large motte-and-bailey castle and church at the rural borough at Wiston, Pembrokeshire, founded in 1108–9 by Flemish farming families under the leadership of the locator, Wiso, whose sons built the earthwork castle (C. Loveluck). [359]

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Acknowledgements

xii

The seed of the idea that germinated and became this book was planted in discussions with the archaeologists Frans Verhaeghe and Dries Tys of the Free University of Brussels (VUB) and Elisabeth Zadora-Rio of the Centre national de la recherche scientifique (CNRS) and University of Tours. All of us were attending the ‘Medieval Europe 1997’ conference in Bruges, the aim of which was to encourage comparative perspectives among archaeologists studying the medieval period in Europe. During the conference, it became apparent how little detailed comparative research on the early medieval period was being conducted between archaeologists working in Britain, Ireland and their nearest Continental neighbours in France and Belgium. This seemed to result from a combination of reasons, among them language difficulties and differences in national origin myths, which have resulted in Anglophone archaeologists tending to undertake comparative research mostly in the region of northern Europe from the Netherlands eastward to Scandinavia, despite the long awareness that from the seventh century (if not always) most links between Britain and the Continent were maintained via France, Belgium and the Netherlands to the mouth of the Rhine. Hence, from 1997 it became my long-term aim to undertake a comprehensive comparative analysis of the social and economic development of early medieval northwest Europe from the perspective of archaeological evidence, to augment the more numerous studies based on textual sources. Assistance in the development of my ideas was also very gratefully received in 1999 from leading historians, among them Janet Nelson, Rosamond McKitterick and Jo Story, following a conference at King’s College, London, and this resulted ultimately in the award of a three-year postdoctoral fellowship from the British Academy, held at the University of Southampton between 2000 and 2003. The detailed compilation of evidence from Continental northwest Europe to set against that from Britain and Ireland was largely conducted during the postdoctoral fellowship and I owe a huge debt to the British Academy for its support in the project that finally became this book. I am also extremely thankful for the support provided by Frans Verhaeghe and Dries Tys, in Brussels, and Henri Galinié and Elisabeth Zadora-Rio and

Acknowledgements

other colleagues from Tours, among them Anne Nissen and Elisabeth Lorans. My ideas and interpretations in this book owe a debt as much to the discussions with these French and Belgian colleagues as to my academic formation in the United Kingdom at the Universities of Durham and Southampton, with Rosemary Cramp, Chris Scull, Chris Morris, Helena Hamerow, David Hinton, Colin Haselgrove and Martin Millett. I underestimated the scale of the task of this comparative study, and I was very grateful to the Arts and Humanities Research Council of the United Kingdom for the award of funded research leave at the University of Nottingham in 2007 to enable me to begin drawing the work together in draft. A semester in the Department of History at Harvard University, between September 2007 and February 2008, provided me with the perfect environment and research facilities to develop the draft and add missing elements to the book. The razor-like minds of Michael McCormick and Daniel Smail have helped hugely in shaving my interpretations into greater coherence, amidst the wonderful hospitality provided by them and their families, and the Department of History. However, I bear full responsibility for any errors in the book. Numerous other archaeologist colleagues have been of considerable help in supporting this research at different stages in its development, among them Dave Evans, John Hines and Karen Høilund Nielsen, and my Nottingham colleagues Chris King and Lloyd Weeks. I have also benefitted from discussions and exchange of publications with colleagues in France, Belgium and Germany, notably Jean Chapelot, Laurent Verslype and Joachim Henning. I am also especially grateful to the many textual scholars who have included me, as an interloper archaeologist, in their projects, conferences and discussions. Among these are Régine Le Jan, Rosamond McKitterick, Laurent Feller, François Bougard, Geneviève Bührer-Thierry and Hans-Werner Goetz within the research network project, Les Élites dans le haut Moyen Âge occidental; and Alban Gauthier, Sébastien Rossignol and Stéphane Lebecq, within the Gentes trans Albiam network. I am, equally, very grateful for critique, observations and discussions with Robin Fleming and Allen Frantzen, following seminars and conferences hosted by them at Boston College and Loyola University, Chicago respectively. My Master’s and Doctoral students at Nottingham and Senior undergraduates and Doctoral students at Harvard are also owed a debt of gratitude for allowing me to develop aspects of my interpretations while teaching them and receiving their criticisms. The book has also benefitted from the comments of the anonymous reviewers, selected independently by Cambridge University Press, without

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Acknowledgements

author influence. The reviewers chose not to retain anonymity and I am hugely grateful to Alex Woolf and, again, to Michael McCormick for their time in reading the final draft. Harvard University also provided further assistance through the help of the gifted Latinist Shane Bobrycki, who very kindly provided references and assistance on the best translations of textual sources, when I had used outdated or less-than-ideal translations. Hopefully, the huge help provided by Shane has corrected the majority of my errors, when as an archaeologist I did not cite the best editions of primary sources. I also owe a huge debt to Lacey Wallace for having produced the majority of the maps and line drawings in this book. Thanks are also extended to Penny Copeland for producing a number of the line drawings and to David Hinton, for the image from Tattershall Thorpe, and to the British Library for the provision of the manuscript illuminations, following clearance of copyright and image reproduction rights. I am also very fortunate in the support given by the staff of Cambridge University Press, from initial discussions with Michael Watson at Kalamazoo in 2006 and his continuing help, to commissioning editors Liz Friend-Smith and Maartje Scheltens, assistant editors Fleur Jones and Chloe Dawson, and production editors Samantha Richter and Sarah Payne. I also owe an especial debt of gratitude to copy-editor Anna Hodson, for the speed and efficiency of her work, and her undoubted enhancing of the book. Most importantly, the largest ‘thank you’ by far is owed to my family, especially my wife, Anna, and our children Grace and Michael, who endure life with an academic with such good grace and tolerance. And above all, I owe a lifelong debt for the love and support of my parents, Lynne and Paul Loveluck, who did not throw up their hands in horror when their son wanted to become an archaeologist at the age of five but instead encouraged his passion for the past and its continuing role in shaping our present and future. This book is dedicated to Lynne and Paul.

Maps of places mentioned in the text

Map 1 Places in northern France and Belgium, dating from between AD 600 and 900, mentioned in the text

Map 2 Places in northern France and Belgium, dating from between AD 900 and 1150, mentioned in the text

Map 3 Places in southern France, northern Iberia and northern Italy, dating from between AD 600 and 1150, mentioned in the text

xviii

Maps of places mentioned in the text

Map 4 Places in the Netherlands, western Germany and southwestern Scandinavia, dating from between AD 600 and 1150, mentioned in the text

Map 5 Places in southern Britain and southeast Ireland, dating from between AD 600 and 900, mentioned in the text

xx

Maps of places mentioned in the text

Map 6 Places in northern Britain and northeast Ireland, dating from between AD 600 and 900, mentioned in the text

Map 7 Places in southern Britain and southeast Ireland, dating from between AD 900 and 1150, mentioned in the text

xxii

Maps of places mentioned in the text

Map 8 Places in northern Britain and northeast Ireland, dating from between AD 900 and 1150, mentioned in the text

Drawing conventions for site plans

xxiii

part i

Context

1 Introduction

This book explores the transformation of northwest Europe from the era of the first post-Roman ‘European Union’ under the Carolingian Frankish kings to the so-called ‘feudal’ age. The major strand underpinning the narrative is the comparative analysis of trajectories of social change in Britain, France, Belgium and the western Netherlands, to the mouth of the Rhine, between c. AD 600 and 1150. The study is pursued primarily through the analysis of material culture: the archaeological remains, standing buildings, and objects conserved by choice from the early Middle Ages. Unlike textual sources, which were mostly created by, and for, the leading strata of early medieval societies, analysis of the physical trappings of the lives of people allows for the consideration of the roles of the full spectrum of the early medieval population on developments. The material culture evidence provides a broad context into which exceptional insights from textual sources can be placed. For much of the period between the seventh and twelfth centuries AD, the populations of Britain, France and Flanders enjoyed a symbiotic relationship in terms of exchange of ideas, fashions and commodities, and they held a common religious affiliation to Roman Christianity, which promoted the notion that all the kingdoms and principalities in these regions formed part of the lands of ‘Christendom’, despite political rivalries. During these centuries radical changes occurred across northwest Europe in the organisation of the rural world. Towns and complex communities of artisans and merchant–traders emerged, and networks of contact between northern Europe, the Mediterranean, and the Middle and Far East were redefined, with long-lasting consequences into the present day. This period also saw significant population growth, and kingdoms and empires were created and also fragmented. The social and political changes that occurred in northwest Europe during the centuries of the later first and early second millennia AD have mostly been explained as a consequence of the aspirations, intentional actions and failures of leaders of societies, whether those with de facto power or ideological influence, namely political and ecclesiastical elites. Such ‘top–down’ models of social change and evolution have certainly

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context

been favoured by historians, anthropologists and archaeologists over the last quarter of the twentieth century. This has been particularly true in explanation of the emergence of kingdoms, imperial hegemonies, common religious mentality, concepts and practices of lordship, and the social status, ties and rights of the agricultural populations of northwest Europe, between the later eighth and twelfth centuries. Yet detailed textually led studies of early medieval agricultural communities, notably free farmers, and specialist producers and traders, have also demonstrated a far more complex relationship between elites and wider free populations in the promotion of social change (Davies 1988; Innes 2000; Le Jan 2000; Bonnassie 2004; Bruand 2008). Developments in anthropological, sociological and archaeological theories have also encouraged detailed research on societies at regional and local levels, and on people living in specific topographical situations, such as coasts, and serving specific social roles: for example, specialist artisans and merchant seafarers (Tilley 1994; Coates 1998; Loveluck and Tys 2006; Loveluck 2012). One of the principal aims of this book is to explain how the power and intentions of elites were confronted by the aspirations and actions of the diverse rural peasantry, and artisans and merchants in rural and urban settings, producing both intended and unintended social changes. Hence, the past emphasis on the role of elites as catalysts promoting the development of towns, trade and the reorganisation of the rural world is placed in the context of stimuli coming from other agents of change from within and beyond the territories that they ruled. Separate consideration of social development in Britain and the ‘West Francia’ of the early Middle Ages (broadly modern-day France and Belgium) has been especially prevalent amongst archaeological studies, despite the close proximity of the geographical areas. Similarities and differences in the development of early medieval societies in these regions have tended to be addressed more in synthetic works of social and economic history in the last thirty years (Fossier 1984; Bartlett 1993; McCormick 2001; Brown 2002; Verhulst 2002; Smith 2005; Wickham 2005), whereas the rarer comparative archaeological studies have focussed either on specific themes, such as rural societies and towns (Chapelot and Fossier 1985; Carver 1993; Hamerow 2002a), or on studies framed within modern national borders (Besteman, Bos and Heidinga 1990; Gilchrist and Reynolds 2009; Chapelot 2010) or on developments over a longue durée, often linked to social evolutionary models (Hodges 1982; Randsborg 1991; Cunliffe 2001). Some recent research projects in western Europe have begun to address comparative themes of enquiry, with historians and

Introduction

archaeologists from different countries contributing to thematic research networks. For example, the networks on The Transformation of the Roman World and Les Élites au Haut Moyen Âge and their series of publications. Nevertheless, a comprehensive comparative assessment of recent archaeological research exploring linkage, similarity and diversity of social traits and changes in early medieval Britain and West Francia has not been conducted in recent decades. This book, therefore, attempts a review of the evidence from Britain and its nearest Continental neighbours together, to try to understand common trends of development and regional differences in these northwest European societies, so interlinked between AD 600 and 1150. Analysis in subsequent chapters takes a thematic approach, based primarily on archaeological evidence, including structural, artefact and biological remains, as well as standing buildings and objects such as relics and manuscripts, considered more for the processes and relationships that went into producing and procuring them than for their content. At the same time, the contextual light that textual sources can throw upon actors who created settlements and particular lifestyles will also be considered, as will textual evidence for social and economic relationships that cannot be gleaned from material evidence. However, perceptions based solely on textual sources, and frameworks of analysis driven by them, will not be used to impose ‘orthodoxy’ of interpretation on archaeological evidence that shows clear signs of not agreeing with them. Hypotheses constructed from, often partial and biased, textual sources have continued to play an influential role in archaeological interpretation of early medieval remains in the past fifty years. Chasing the perceived archaeological correlations of what textually led paradigms apparently suggest has sometimes considerably underestimated the complex changes evident in the material culture. This study aims to arrive at an appreciation and understanding of the complexities of the social transformation of northwest Europe between AD 600 and 1150, allowing for the dynamic of the material culture evidence in its own right, informed by complementary textual evidence but not a slave to it. In terms of methodology, various theoretical approaches to the interpretation of early medieval societies and their character are examined. Different paradigms suit different scales of question and analysis, and all have strengths and weaknesses, so no single approach is advocated above others. The book does seek, however, to begin to bridge the apparent gap in interpretative frameworks between those espoused by archaeologists from the late 1970s to 1990s, and those currently in vogue. The former can be

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characterised as approaches which interpreted archaeological remains within explanatory frameworks derived from social anthropology and human geography. Principal among such approaches was the interpretation of archaeological remains within the context of very structured and fixed models of social evolution, which had defined concepts and expectations of social behaviour depending on defined stages in evolutionary cycles (Polanyi 1957; Friedman and Rowlands 1978 among others). The application of such models by Richard Hodges in researching the growth of towns and trade in the early medieval period provides a seminal and very influential example of the application of these approaches over the last thirty years (Hodges 1982, 1989, 2000). The models produced were powerful tools that revolutionised aspects of our understanding of material culture and potential mechanisms and motivations for developments in early medieval Europe. They were also applied over timescales which lasted centuries – Braudel’s longue durée – thus a limited range of excavated ‘type’ sites could be fitted into the models and anthropological theory ‘filled in the blanks’. However, the way that archaeological remains have been set within models of social evolution has produced unilinear views of how early medieval societies developed and operated, along fixed trajectories (Saunders 1995, 31–53; Brookes 2007, 28–30). The impact of divergences from expected ‘norms’ of behaviour has been minimised, as exceptions to general rules. In recent years, however, with new archaeological discoveries, the number of exceptions to expected rules has reached the scale where the usefulness of the general social evolutionary models has to be questioned. Their operation at the ‘grand narrative’ level has to be confronted with detailed data from different regional trends and landscape situations, and also individual site and artefact ‘biographies’, to see whether they still have a useful role at particular levels of analysis (Tilley 1994, 16–17; Hodder 2000, 21–2; Jones 2002, 83–5). The reduction of people often to elite-dominated ‘automata’ within social evolutionary models also reduced the search for signs of complexity and human action that did not accord with the models. The existence of exchange for profit between the fifth and ninth centuries has been one practice minimised by them, even though profit-driven commodity movement and transactions have been noted by economic historians (McCormick 2001, 2007, 2012a; Verhulst 2002; Bruand 2008). The demonstration of people and groups able to act outside expected norms of elite–client social control has also been limited, and only shown emphatically recently (Ulmschneider 2000, 70; Loveluck and Tys 2006, 153–4; Loveluck 2012). The postmodernist approaches of the past two decades

Introduction

have been a reaction to the ‘normative’ and restrictive outlooks promoted by the application of social evolutionary models. Within the context of research into the medieval period, postmodernist approaches have tended to focus on specific themes and analysis of the small scale, down to the level of intra-family relationships and individuals as agents of social change, whether over the short or long term. Hence, we have seen detailed studies of the use of social and symbolic space, and interpretation of social practices within ‘mental templates’, defined by Bourdieu under the concept of habitus. Material culture kits have been related to particular types of household or social group and to specific actors within medieval societies by gender, age, social role and group identity. Links between the use of space, collective ideas of social memory, possession of land, and identity have also been key themes investigated at the levels of household and community, and also in wider studies of specific reflections of identity and belief, such as burial practices (Galinié 2000, 61–78; Chouquer 2000; Effros 2002; Williams 2003; Hadley 2004, 301–23, amongst others). Changing fashions in the use of theoretical paradigms might suggest disavowal of one set of approaches over the other. Yet, in reality the setting of archaeological evidence within ‘grand narrative’ models of social evolution and the examination of how human societies worked from the perspectives of the household, gender, age and multiple levels of social identity are, in fact, attempts at explaining human action or agency at different levels. The ‘grand narrative’ models analyse on what can be termed the ‘macro-level’, and the postmodernist approaches have predominantly analysed aspects of social action on the ‘micro-level’ or from specific perspectives. Hence, a gap in levels of interpretation has appeared, not wholly filled by different scales of agency theory espoused in the last decade. At the macro-level, the models of social evolution and the substrata of anthropological ‘laws’ on which they work do not allow for exceptions to what they define as expected ‘norms’. In contrast, postmodern analyses at the micro-level highlight such a high degree of variation and complexity that interpretation at a general level often appears impossible (Jones 2002, 69–70). The exceptions, perhaps, have been studies incorporating aspects of Bourdieu’s ideas on social space and habitus, where recurrent social practices do allow some multi-scale analysis of identity and the agency of different actors in social change (Galinié 2000). In the chapters that follow, the ‘pros’ and ‘cons’ of the respective macroand micro-level approaches are reviewed in the light of the substantial body of new archaeological evidence that has been discovered in the past quarter century. The chronological span of attention covers six centuries

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and the geographical area considered covers five modern European countries, so this work could automatically be considered as one of macro-level analysis and a study of the longue durée. The study cannot cover all discoveries and work in progress from the different constituent countries. Nevertheless, an attempt has been made to review a large enough sample of evidence to provide enough detail for interpretations not to be based on a perceived superficial level of analysis. The thematic discussions analyse integrated material culture profiles, created when possible from structural, artefact and biological remains. These are used to develop an appreciation of lifestyles, funerary and monumental practices in different types of settlement and community, and in various geographical regions and social settings. Due critique is also given to circumstances governing the representativity of the evidence for purposes of comparison, particularly in relation to the interpretation of settlement data, where attempting to assess the limits of inference from refuse deposits and the ‘waste streams’ that created them is critical (Schiffer 1987, 66–8; Loveluck 2004, 90). Comparison between material culture profiles or ‘signatures’ is undertaken at intersite, regional and supra-regional levels, to analyse any recurrent social practices that could be regarded as the habitual markers of different actors in early medieval societies (Bourdieu 1994, 23–4). The aim is to demonstrate the different extents to which ‘mental templates’ of action and practice were defined by rank-based roles, non-rank-based roles or other factors that governed degrees of access, movement and opportunity, such as geographical location and mental outlook. In a sense, the perspectives derived from the thematic and multi-scale analyses that follow provide a kind of ‘middle-range’ level of interpretation and explanatory hypothesis, against which macro-level models and micro-level studies of human agency can be situated.

2 The social fabric of Northwest Europe,

AD 600–1150: paradigms and perspectives

The Age of the Carolingians, AD 600–900: diversity and connectivity The rural world: lordship, status and independence At the social and economic levels of action, the period between AD 600 and 900 in northwest Europe saw the transformation of the world of ‘Late Antiquity’. A key theme for historians has been change in the organisation of the rural world, in relation to the degree of freedom of people involved in agricultural production, and the reorganisation of that production around the ‘bipartite’ estate in northern Francia, and around concepts of landholding and organisation influenced, if not led, by the Christian church in Anglo-Saxon England. The trend of a diminishing level of slavery has been observed in Francia, with a greater level of freedom on the part of rural peasant proprietors through the Carolingian period, only for them to succumb again to significant erosion of that freedom with new duties and taxes imposed during the development of the seigneurie banale or what have been called ‘feudal’ mechanisms of local lordship, from the later tenth and eleventh centuries (Bonnassie 1991a, 294–313; Wickham 1992, 237–8; Devroey 2004, 253–5). Increasingly, however, historical studies have stressed the dynamism of the ‘peasantry’, and the internal complexities, disparities in wealth and degrees of freedom that the collective descriptive label could hide (Davies 1988, 91–102; Bonnassie 1991a, 296–303; Wickham 1992, 234–44, 2005, 542–3 and 828). Indeed, many of the new ‘middling’ social actors of the tenth and eleventh centuries no doubt originated from the richer free peasantry, including members of the group characterised by their military role – the milites, and many burgesses and merchants of growing towns (Bonnassie 1991b, 208–11; Bartlett 1993, 51). Critical to ideas of change in the rural world of northwest Francia, primarily advanced by historians and historical geographers, has been the perceived reorganisation of agricultural production through the development of the ‘bipartite’ estate, in the geographical area between the Rivers

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Loire and Rhine, during the seventh and eighth centuries (Toubert 1990, 53–86; Verhulst 1990, 88–91). This involved the definition of a ‘reserve’ or demesne at the heart of an estate, worked by the household of the estate owner and by tied tenants of linked manses or farming households. The tenant peasantry additionally paid rent in kind and, increasingly, in coin, for possession of their manses (Devroey 2006, 522–6). The study of the development of these bipartite estates has been achieved primarily through analysis of major monastic and royal estates for which there is documentary evidence of their management, in the form of estate inventories known as polyptychs, and idealised estate management guidance documents. Most of these come from very specific areas of West Francia, notably the Île-de-France, the Aisne, Oise and Marne valleys, Picardy and Flanders, i.e. its northeast region (Devroey 1985, 91–3). The assumed wider use and promotion of such a method of agricultural and social exploitation must, however, be balanced with evidence for smaller units of agricultural production in the Loire valley and southern France, including those of major monastic landlords, such as St Martin of Tours and St Victor of Marseilles; and also by the wide extent and large number of free peasant allodial land properties (Sato 2004, 32–5; Faith 2010, 175–201). The size of allodial lands owned by free peasant proprietors seems to have varied but their frequency and widespread geographical occurrence was not inconsiderable, and it is sometimes difficult from evidence of land and other transactions to distinguish them from local notables and the lesser aristocracy, in terms of their ability to buy, when such transactions become visible in textual sources. Detailed documentary studies, conducted in the last half century, have demonstrated the probable primacy of the free peasant allod and linked household as the most numerous method of land exploitation in West Francia, between the eighth and tenth centuries, even in Picardy and Flanders (Davies 1988, 98–9; Bonnassie 1991a, 296–300; Fossier 1991, 42 and 78; Chapelot 1993, 168). This is not to deny the importance of the bipartite estate as a mechanism of agricultural production and social control. Such estates, however, also have to be contextualised in landscapes that were probably characterised, overall, by free-peasant allodial holdings alongside a potentially smaller number of large bipartite estates (Wickham 1992, 234). Nevertheless, the high visibility and attention paid to the bipartite estate in textual studies of rural change between the seventh and tenth centuries is inevitable, due to the bias in survival of evidence about them. Consequently, care has to be taken not to skew interpretations further towards the importance of these large tenurial units in archaeological studies, which can be tempting given the

The social fabric: paradigms and perspectives

concentration of archaeological work in the Île-de-France on documented elements of some of these estates, since the late 1980s (Devroey 2006, 457–9). Such high visibility of estates and their centres in textual sources, followed by a commensurate archaeological effort targeted on them, can be dangerous for purposes of wider generalisation. A process of estate definition, initially within large tenurial units, with subsequent break-up into smaller holdings has also been suggested for the period between the seventh and eleventh centuries in England. Indeed, comparisons have long been made between England and Francia, from the groundbreaking study of Marc Bloch onwards (Bloch 1960†). The existence of a core, cultivated landholding belonging to the estate-holder is certainly suggested from the initial seventh-century definition of estates by charter, together with household workers to cultivate that core landholding. A peasantry, with different degrees of independence, from fully free, half-free to slave, is also observable amongst agricultural producers. Rosamond Faith has highlighted the high visibility of the free peasantry, manifested above all in its right and obligation to bear arms and serve in the local militia, the fyrd, alongside the higher aristocracy (Faith 1997, 95–8). From the late ninth and tenth centuries, local lords, thegns, encouraged the reorganisation of rural landholdings into estates, smaller than their seventh- to ninth-century counterparts, usually referred to as ‘manors’. Fleming suggests that this was linked to settlement and landscape reorganisation into nucleated villages in certain parts of England, achieved by thegns actively relocating their subordinate populace to these nucleated settlements, while at the same time trying to encourage ‘well-to-do farmers’, presumably free households, into the same settlements by provision of amenities, such as watermills (Fleming 2011, 29). The distinction between thegn and ‘well-to-do free farmer’ may have been negligible, however, during the period of expansion of these local notables, mainly from the later ninth and tenth centuries. Thegns may simply have been successful free farmers who had prospered more than other counterparts at a local level, and whose social position, possessions and responsibilities became increasingly recognised and formalised by ruling authorities. Such a process of ‘manorialisation’ and village formation did not occur over a short period. It took place over two centuries, from the tenth to the twelfth century, and its genesis may have been even earlier in some regions (Dyer 2002, 22; Rippon 2008, 13). There was also considerable regional variation in regard to settlement nucleation, with a central north–south belt of England becoming dominated by large villages and open-field landscapes, while other regions retained smaller hamlet and dispersed

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settlement patterns (Dyer 2002, 19–23; Rippon 2008). As well as variations in settlement and landscape organisation, there also appear to have been differences in the social and legal composition of the farming populations in different regions. The linkage of the rural populace to smaller estate structures may have occurred earlier in southern England, encouraged by the West Saxon kings, between the ninth and tenth centuries. Each peasant household was linked to a larger landholding of a thegn, by a range of means depending on status: from obligation to support the local lord for free peasants owning their own lands, to labour services for the unfree working the lands of others. In the eastern regions of England and from the Midlands northwards, however, Domesday Book notes large numbers of sokelands, land held by free proprietors and their households, technically subordinate to estate centres and their owners but with the freedom to change lords at their choice, prior to the Norman Conquest (Faith 1997, 118–19). The recorded names of these sokemen were both Scandinavian and Old English. Those recorded for the temporis Regis Edwardi of Domesday, that is 1065, possibly reflect a wider social organisation that may also have existed further south and west in England, prior to any West Saxon reorganisation. What has become clear, however, is that the process of the break-up of large estates into smaller counterparts from the late ninth to twelfth centuries was achieved through the active agency of both lordly and peasant initiatives, usually acting cooperatively (Dyer 2002, 37–40; Fleming 2011, 23–35). The different regional landscapes of large villages and smaller, more dispersed settlements were created by those dual agencies. Despite the wealth of work by historians from the past two decades, highlighting the dynamism of the complex, multi-layered social group, labelled as the ‘peasantry’, a comparable awareness of the complexity of the rural populace and the potential range of its material reflections has not been shown by archaeologists (Rippon 2008, 21). A number of factors account for this omission in the focus of archaeological examination of the seventh- to twelfth-century rural world. Firstly, archaeologists have tended to target for excavation the foci of consumption of peasant labour and rents, that is to say attention has tended to focus on estate centres and settlements generically labelled ‘high-status’ sites. This bias holds true in Britain, France and Belgium. Secondly, the wider frameworks of archaeological interpretation used in England, the Netherlands and Flanders, in particular, have tended to be guided by anthropological theories that stress the role of elites in promoting social change. In recent years, only the detailed research on the fenland hamlets of eastern England, the Heslerton

The social fabric: paradigms and perspectives

Landscape project (North Yorkshire), and the projects focussed on Shapwick (Somerset) and Whittlewood (Northamptonshire) have proven the exception to this rule for major settlement and landscape research in England. The latter projects had different research objectives and methodologies, however. Greater emphasis can be placed on exploration of the nature of settlement character and lifestyles for the fenland and West Heslerton settlements in their immediate landscapes, due to greater levels of excavation (Powlesland 2000, 2003; Crowson et al. 2005); whilst at Shapwick and Whittlewood wider understanding of cycles of settlement development on an extensive landscape scale was the principal aim, in relation to agencies acting on nucleation and dispersion. This was achieved primarily through extensive survey and test-pitting approaches, with smaller-scale excavations (Jones and Page 2006; Gerrard with Aston 2007). The legacy of the bias on behalf of archaeologists towards manifestations of lordship in rural settlement patterns of the early Middle Ages has resulted in a situation where potential diversity in the material reflections of different ranks within the peasantry may have been hugely underestimated. Terms of comparative reference are biased to ‘central settlements’, whether one describes them as estate centres, manors or monasteries. Archaeological traits found on them have been viewed as indicative of ‘high status’, especially in relation to imported goods, metalwork and coinage, without appropriate definition of what might constitute ‘lower-status’ archaeological signatures of a diverse peasantry (Loveluck 2007a, 146–7, 2011, 55). In many ways, interpretation has been selffulfilling for settlements identified as exhibiting ‘high status’. For example, if a glass drinking vessel is found in the excavation of a seventh- to ninthcentury settlement of unknown character, the temptation has been to assign a ‘high-status’ label to the site on the basis of our comparative corpus of information, which shows that glass drinking vessels certainly occurred on ‘high-status’ rural settlements. One is left with the problem, however, that we do not know that richer free peasant proprietors could not gain access to items such as glass drinking vessels, whether through gift exchange or purchase. Our problem in terms of comparison is caused by archaeological terms of reference having been too simplistic – ‘high status’, ‘low status’, etc. Archaeologists have fallen into a habit of oversimplistic equation of specific types of artefact with vague labels of social rank. Bias in excavation has been towards ‘high-status’ settlements, and when traits similar to them have been found on other undocumented sites, it is generally assumed that they too are of ‘high status’.

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In reality, access to commodities was also influenced by geographical location and role in society. For example, we find more imported artefacts often equated with high social rank on coasts, due to location in landing zones and on arterial communication corridors (Loveluck 2009, 2012). Similarly, specialist artisans and merchants reflected their wealth in portable goods, which did not necessarily reflect their social rank within a largely agricultural society (Loveluck 2011, 57–61). The implications of the tendencies discussed above are that a significant number of settlements of the richer ‘free peasantry’ may currently be labelled as ‘high status’ by archaeologists, who assume that they reflect elements of regional elites or aristocracies. The portable wealth of some of the peasantry of ninth- to eleventh-century Europe, seen through textual sources, sounds a cautionary note for archaeological interpretation, especially in regard to occupants of coastal regions and some river-valley corridors involved in the production of specialist products, such as salt, and their transport (Davies 1988, 98–9; Bruand 2008; Loveluck 2011, 56–7).

Trade and towns: connections and definitions The entwined themes of trade and towns have been a principal focus in explaining the social and economic transformation of western and central Europe, between the fourth and twelfth centuries AD. Over the past century, attempts at explaining the development of towns, trade, the nature of mercantile societies and their relationships with the rural world have proceeded on the basis of explanatory frameworks derived from a range of academic disciplines, notably history, sociology, geography, anthropology and archaeology. Approaches and explanations have changed depending on new discoveries and the borrowing of conceptual and analytical toolkits from different disciplines. The past half century has seen the challenging of the thesis on the development of early medieval towns and trade put forward by the Belgian historian Henri Pirenne; the recasting of the linked development of ports, central places and exchange using anthropological models, by Richard Hodges; and presently, new discoveries and long-unanswered questions are forcing reassessment of our state of knowledge and understanding anew. Working from a historical paradigm, in the 1920s and 1930s, Pirenne suggested continuity of Late Roman towns and their functions in continental northwest Europe until the Arab invasions of the eighth century, but not in Britain where the Anglo-Saxon invasions were held to have ended urban life. Subsequently, he suggested an elite-sponsored renewal of urban

The social fabric: paradigms and perspectives

life and the foundation of new trading centres, fostered by the Carolingian Frankish dynasty and copied by the Anglo-Saxon kings, following their reorganisation of rural production, stimulated by their being cut off from the Late Antique economy of the Mediterranean by Arab and Berber conquests. In such a way, Pirenne, in his seminal works Medieval Cities (1925) and Mohammed and Charlemagne (1936/1954 trans.) set the scene for the rejuvenation of former Roman towns and the foundation of the independently stimulated, new urban trading centres around the Channel and North Sea coasts. The Viking Scandinavians were given credit for further stimulating urban centres in northern Europe and around the Baltic Sea, through extensive trade networks, and northern Europe was held to have been reconnected to the commercial, urban-focussed networks of the Mediterranean through the Venetians and a diminishing of Islamic power in the western and central Mediterranean, from the late tenth century. Conquests, colonisation and the initiatives of elites and an emerging merchant class were then held to have stimulated new urban growth from the tenth to thirteenth centuries. In the early 1980s, the archaeologist Richard Hodges revised Pirenne’s thesis by using archaeological evidence, interpreted with reference to anthropological theories and textual sources. His ideas were outlined in the books Dark Age Economics (1982) and Mohammed, Charlemagne and the Origins of Europe (Hodges and Whitehouse 1983), and have been updated in recent years (Hodges and Whitehouse 1996; Hodges 2000). The key area of difference with Pirenne was that Hodges observed the continuity of occupation of most Roman towns in the post-Roman period but on a much reduced basis, primarily as islands of secular and ecclesiastical authority combined with a function as nodes of exchange, where Mediterranean and other foreign merchants periodically traded. Hence, towns had declined into much more limited central places. Hodges also reviewed the evidence for the character of towns around the Mediterranean from the archaeological evidence. He concluded that the Late Antique Mediterranean economy and exchange networks, thought by Pirenne to have continued until the Arab conquest of the southern Mediterranean shore and Spain in the eighth century, had actually collapsed in the mid seventh century as a consequence of the Byzantine–Persian wars. The Islamic conquests of the seventh century and Avar invasions of Byzantine territory had further accentuated an existing downward trend. Hence, Hodges moved the date from which northwest Europe was largely cut off from the Mediterranean back a century.

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Such a chronological shift of apparent disjuncture with the Mediterranean economy seemed to coincide better with the archaeological evidence for the foundation of large trading and artisan centres in coastal estuary and lower river-valley locations around the North Sea, during the second half of the seventh century. Examples can be cited from Quentovic, around Vismarest-sur-Canche, northeast France; Dorestad, in the Rhine delta; Ipswich, at the head of the Orwell estuary, in southeast England; and Ribe, on the coast of west Jutland, Denmark. In addition, similar trading and craft-working settlements were also promoted within or immediately adjacent to the sites of former Roman riverside towns, for example, at Rouen, London, Southampton and York, during the mid to late seventh century. The foundation of these new trading centres, described variously as emporia, ports-of-trade and gateway communities (Polanyi 1963, 30–45; Hirth 1978, 25–45), was grounded by Hodges in the desire of leaders, whether Frankish, Anglo-Saxon, Frisian or Danish kings, to promote and control exchange for the purposes of reinforcing their own social positions. Explanation of exchange and specialist production at these centres was embedded within anthropological theories of the nature of exchange, trade and the purposes for them. Paramount amongst these theories was the assumed role of elites as agents of social and economic change, and the division of objects-of-trade into two categories that could be deemed ‘prestige’ or ‘utilitarian’ goods. Prestige goods were identified with apparent luxury items and commodities that could be used in public exchange, for example in gift exchange, to display the social rank of the giver, whether between people of equal rank (kings) or of different rank (a gift from a lord to a client or retainer). Control of access to such luxuries, which could act as badges of rank and alliance, was seen as a critical motivation for the foundation of the new trading centres by northwest European elites, in the seventh and eighth centuries (Hodges 1982). Taxing of bulk commodities funnelled through these centres ran alongside but was subordinated to the control of prestige goods, as was trade in the products made at these central places (Hodges 1989). The transactions that occurred were framed within the context of socially embedded exchange, where maintenance of a relationship based on the social rank of the participants outweighed any profit-motive (Polanyi 1957, 243–70; Moreland 2000b). Indeed, in such a socially embedded vision of town-like central places and their economies, all stimulus for change has to come from the actions of people at the top of the system or from outside it. Hence, Scandinavian influence was viewed as a catalyst for both renewal of contacts with the Islamic and Byzantine worlds and the

The social fabric: paradigms and perspectives

injection of a profit-making ethos into the role of towns in maritime northwest Europe during the later ninth century, followed by indigenous elite-led foundation and rejuvenation of towns in the hinterland of the coasts and their landward interiors (Hodges and Whitehouse 1996; Hodges 2000). A series of questions remain, however, in relation to the Hodges model of port and town development from c. AD 650 to 1000. The first relates to the ‘mental template’ of central places which acted as the basis for the new Frankish and Anglo-Saxon trading settlements. In recent years, Hodges has suggested that centres such as Dorestad and Quentovic were deliberately sited away from the central places of the Roman past, as what he called ‘dream cities’ (Hodges 2000, 86–92). If these centres had been founded or expanded as a consequence of patronage by the Carolingian dynasty, the suggested location of the trading places to conspicuously reflect their ‘nonRoman-ness’ would fly in the face of everything else the Carolingian sociopolitical and ideological programme seems to have been designed to do, which was to emphasise their closeness to the Roman past as successors to the Roman emperors in the West (see Chapter 6). The location of emporia within or in very close proximity to their Roman antecedents at Rouen, London, Southampton and York also counters the suggestion by Hodges that such settlements were deliberately sited away from earlier Roman centres. A further and even more fundamental question relates to the origins of the people who settled in the emporia: the artisans and, presumably, the seafaring merchants who permanently or periodically resided in them. It is possible to see the artisans and their provisioning as the consequence of a ‘command’ social economy, having travelled to an emporium site by royal direction, and then working and being fed under royal patronage. If this is true, however, the question still remains: ‘Where did the artisan families get their specialist skills and where had they practised them prior to being concentrated in an emporium?’ The suggested absence of a profit-motive in the seventh and eighth centuries, put forward by Hodges, also causes a problem in explaining why seafaring merchants, the people actively involved in exchange and transporting goods, undertook their profession. A greater incentive than prestigious recognition of a role as mercantile agents for elites was surely necessary to encourage risk of life and limb on the high seas. The origins of merchants are again unknowns. For the Frisians, Stéphane Lebecq has coined the term ‘marchand–paysan’ in explaining their mercantile role – Frisian free kindreds splitting the roles of working the land and trading via the sea (Lebecq 1983). This suggested

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multi-purpose role for this maritime-focussed people accords with more recent work on coastal societies by the author and others (Loveluck and Tys 2006; Bruand 2008; Loveluck 2012). The impetus to undertake this role, however, was probably profit-related. Members of coastal societies along the shores of France, England and Flanders must also have undertaken these multiple roles. Those choosing to specialise in maritime trading probably account for the origins of a merchant group in northwest European society. Indeed, Lebecq saw the trading settlements of Quentovic and Dorestad as independent mercantile foundations in their early years, only becoming targets for direct royal administration and taxation once volumes traded were large enough to be noticed (Lebecq 1997, 75). In recent years, there has been a general tendency to recognise the potential for merchant-led foundation of emporia ports, with differences in views coalescing over the degree of subsequent elite control and taxation of these centres (Loveluck 2012; Naylor 2012; Wickham 2012). At the end of his career, in the late 1990s and the turn of the new millennium, the Belgian historical geographer Adriaan Verhulst addressed some of the shortcomings of the anthropologically led theories of town development and drew attention, for the first time in English, to new archaeological discoveries of the 1990s that impacted on both the thesis of Pirenne and the models of Hodges. Two works, The Rise of Cities in North-West Europe (1999) and The Carolingian Economy (2002), demonstrated two key phenomena. The first was that new, multi-functional central places were developing and expanding in continental northwest Europe during the sixth and seventh centuries, especially in the Meuse valley. Examples have been revealed archaeologically at Namur (Plumier 1999, 24–30), Huy (Péters 1997, 1999) and Maastricht (Dijkman 1994, 35–9, 1999, 46–51), and probably Charleville-Mézières (Lémant 1991b, 169–72; Périn and Lémant 1999, 15–20). None were major Roman towns. Namur and Maastricht developed around Late Roman forts. During the sixth century, they developed polyfocal settlement elements, with artisan zones linked to different activities and foci of secular and religious display in new stone churches. The bishop of the Late Roman see focussed on Tongres moved the seat of the diocese to Maastricht by AD 511 (Dijkman 1994, 35–7). All the new centres mentioned above were also mints, producing gold tremissis coinage. No documented secular elites were associated with the expansion of these centres and only Maastricht has a documented ecclesiastical authority. Yet secular elite presence is certainly suggested in furnished graves and funerary churches. The key point of note is the very existence of these expanding central places and their diverse social

The social fabric: paradigms and perspectives

make-up, during the sixth and seventh centuries. This was a period in northwest Europe that Hodges characterised as one of urban decline, prior to re-stimulation under Carolingian royal influence. Verhulst also made plain, on the basis of textual evidence, the range of options available to artisans in relation to the distribution of their products. Even if permanent or seasonal craft specialists were tenants of an estate holding, once they had delivered their dues to their patrons they could and did enter into exchange transactions for profit; they sold goods in the modern sense (Verhulst 2002, 74–8). The existence of obligationfree transactions is long known but has not been stressed often over the past three decades in archaeological literature, whilst social evolutionary models of interpretation have been in vogue. In recent years, however, a combination of archaeological discoveries on both sides of the Channel– North Sea waterway, Verhulst’s documentary research and new theoretical approaches have resulted in a growing appreciation of the much greater role that alienable exchange of commodities, free of any social obligation, could have played between the sixth and ninth centuries, alongside socially embedded (inalienable) exchange, based on gift exchange and controlled redistribution of goods (Pestell and Ulmschneider 2003; Loveluck and Tys 2006; Brookes 2007). Indeed, Verhulst’s observation that the principal concern of Carolingian kings was to tax the export of bulk commodities at emporia suggests that taxation of alienable exchange was of equal, if not greater, importance than any desire to control access to luxury ‘prestige’ items (Verhulst 2002, 130). Michael McCormick’s work on travel and trade in his Origins of the European Economy (2001) has also demonstrated abundantly the incorrect assumptions about northwest Europe being cut off from the networks of the central and eastern Mediterranean world, as a consequence of Islamic conquests. In addition to the often-highlighted diplomatic contacts between Carolingian emperors, Byzantine emperors and Islamic caliphs and emirs, from the later eighth and ninth centuries, his focus on the written evidence for Christian pilgrims travelling to Jerusalem, from the early decades of the eighth century onwards, using an existing shipping and maritime infrastructure, provides a context for the continual gifts of relics derived from the eastern Mediterranean, donated to northwest European cult centres. McCormick highlights the relics given to the monasteries of Sens and Chelles (Île-de-France), in northern France (McCormick 2001, 290–318). Other scholars too have illustrated the maintenance of pilgrim travel even during the mid to late seventh century, the period viewed as the nadir of contacts between the Mediterranean and northwest

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Europe by Richard Hodges. For example, Scarfe Beckett notes the pilgrimage of the Frank Arculf, who visited Jerusalem between AD 679 and 682, was shipwrecked in western Britain on his return journey, and whose story and descriptions were written down by Bishop-Abbot Adomnàn of Iona (Argyll) (Scarfe Beckett 2003, 44–5). The continued use of Egyptian papyrus for the court chancery of the Merovingian Frankish kings until around AD 700, and its use in Rome and the Adriatic into the ninth century, also demonstrates continuing east–west commodity movement from Egypt and changing regional shipping networks in the Mediterranean, between AD 600 and 900 (McCormick 2001, 704, 2012a, 87). Recent discoveries at Comacchio (Ferrara) on dunes and islands at the delta of the River Po also show the contacts with the eastern Mediterranean, with ceramics, foodstuffs and spices imported from the late seventh to ninth centuries, and then distributed along the Po and over the Alps (Gelichi et al. 2009, 25–40). Similarly, finds of Arab and Carolingian coins from the marketplace on the island of Torcello, Venice, also highlight similar commercial contacts between east and west, via the Mediterranean, from the later eighth century (McCormick 2001, 319–21). Alongside our long-unanswered questions relating to the origins of the mercantile populations of ports and towns, and our new appreciations of the connectivity of northwest Europe with the Mediterranean and Islamic worlds throughout the early Middle Ages, researchers are continually faced with the conceptual problems of defining a ‘town’ and ‘urban’ lifestyles. For archaeologists and historians the problems are compounded because complex settlements in the past, whether called ports or towns, did not always have the same array of functions and diversity as their modern equivalents. Early guides to definition were provided by archaeologists such as Martin Biddle, who suggested an approach based on possession of both textual and archaeological criteria for attributing urban character to a settlement. Hence, possession of a charter and markets were examples of documented criteria, and town walls, evidence for trade and a diverse artisan base were archaeological equivalents (Biddle 1976, 99–102). It was difficult, however, with this approach to know how many criteria were needed before a settlement could be deemed urban. Anthropological and geographical labels were also applied to the archaeological reflections of central places, especially trading settlements; for example, the aforementioned ‘ports-of-trade’ and ‘gateway communities’. Yet these terms brought with them fixed assumptions of the roles of settlements and their inhabitants, and were perhaps applied without due consideration of whether the assumptions were appropriate to limited or diverse traits seen in the

The social fabric: paradigms and perspectives

archaeological record. The sociological criteria for a town proposed by Max Weber are more useful, where a town is an administrative and economic centre for a surrounding region, whose population is functionally diverse, and the majority of whom are not involved in primary agricultural production (Weber 1904–17). Unfortunately, however, functional diversity in the roles of different central places is very evident in the landscapes of early medieval northwest Europe. For example, some major ports may not have housed population elements who had any administrative power over hinterland territories at different times in their occupational histories. Furthermore, in an increasing number of instances towns can also be shown to have housed significant numbers of agricultural households within their bounds, between the seventh and twelfth centuries; and artisan and merchant households were also heavily involved in horticulture and husbandry of certain animals and fowl. Hence, our modern conceptual definitions have often proved less than useful faced with early medieval reality. In the face of such complexity more pragmatic approaches have recently been suggested by the archaeologists Henri Galinié and Frans Verhaeghe. For Galinié, who has used almost forty years of work on the development of Tours as his ‘laboratory’ through which to analyse medieval towns, a key problem is our modern preconception of what constitutes a town (Galinié 2000, 49–65). Tours underwent its Late Antique transformation in the fourth century, with the construction of a walled enceinte, enclosing only part of the town of the earlier Roman period. Between the fifth and tenth centuries, there were two principal poles within the early medieval landscape of Tours. The first was focussed around the Late Roman enclosed area, housing the cathedral, its group of ancillary churches, and the administrative foci for Tours, its pagus and the Diocese, in the form of the Bishop and possibly a Count. The second pole was concentrated on the monastery of St Martin of Tours, to the west of the walled enclosure. Excavations around the church of St Julien, situated between the two bipolar foci, now demonstrate that the intervening space was also occupied and exploited. Tours was undoubtedly perceived as a town by fifth- to tenth-century contemporaries. Yet the physical imprint of the town of these centuries has prompted Galinié to characterise the early medieval settlement at Tours as a ‘town’ and ‘urban’, in the early medieval sense, without having being ‘urban’ in the modern sense (Galinié 1999, 103–4). Verhaeghe has also stressed the diversity of central settlements that could be viewed as towns in early medieval northwest Europe. Their nature and, critically, the perception of their nature, depended on geographical and

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social context, and chronological situation within the early Middle Ages (Verhaeghe, with Loveluck and Story 2005, 259–72). The issue addressed to differing extents by Galinié and Verhaeghe is one of contemporary perception, and the problem of how we in the modern world can enter the ‘thought-worlds’ of our early medieval forebears in order to identify the range of settlement forms that they thought were towns. In the early medieval reality, a range of central places of varying character fulfilled their needs and were all called ‘towns’. A single settlement could gain functions, people and a collective sense of itself as being something ‘other’ than the rural world, depending on how it was defined against the range of contemporary rural settlement identities that existed through the course of the early Middle Ages.

The so-called ‘feudal’ centuries, AD 900–1150: competition and social mobility The rural world: dynamism and constraint The transformations of the epoch from the tenth to twelfth century, previously labelled the ‘feudal’ era, have been studied exhaustively by historians across northwest Europe. This was the era of the classification of northwest European societies into three functional orders by the ruling powers of the day: categorised by ‘those who fight, those who pray, and those who work’. Those who worked were portrayed and conceptualised as agricultural workers of the land alone. In England, the ‘three orders’ conceptual scheme is first known from the writings of Alfred the Great, King of Wessex, from the end of the ninth century, in his translation of Boethius’ Consolation of Philosophy (XVII, Keynes and Lapidge 1983, 132); and it was articulated in West Francia during the same period by Heiric of Auxerre (Crouch 2005a, 226–7). Both may have been drawing on a Carolingian precedent. The more widespread use of the imagined classificatory system, however, did not occur until c. 1000–1030, seen in the writings of both West Frankish and Anglo-Saxon clerics, namely Adalbero of Laon, Gerard of Cambrai and Ælfric of Eynsham (Duby 1980; Freedman 1999, 17; Crouch 2005a, 227–8). At the time of its conception, such a functional classification was too simplistic, denying the social mobility of the time in the rural world, and excluding the emerging town-based merchant–seafarer and artisan elites (Fletcher 2002, 108–10). Even the farming populations, the ‘peasantry’, show far more diversity and signs

The social fabric: paradigms and perspectives

of free will and independence in the later tenth and eleventh centuries, in contrast to the more derisory images of medieval peasants passed down mostly from the later twelfth and thirteenth century onwards, when they had lost many of their former freedoms (Bartlett 1993, 111–16; Faith 1997, 121–5; Freedman 1999, 182–3). Key to the changes of this period was the more overt manifestation and growth of ‘middling’ free allod holders, wealthy peasant families owning their own land. Their existence has already been observed in the textual sources of the seventh to ninth centuries, and their potential material reflections have been largely ignored by archaeologists. Social mobility of the richer peasantry is the trend that comes out from detailed study of the textual evidence of the tenth and eleventh centuries, sending them on trajectories to become local lords and milites (a term often loosely translated into English as ‘knights’), and also town-based merchant and artisan ‘burgesses’. The principal characteristics of the richer free peasant-cumnascent-milites rank were the trappings of war and an ability to move around the landscape quickly, on horseback. This trend can be seen across continental western Europe from the Low Countries, through France, and into Spain, where in the latter instance the kings of Leon, Castile and Aragon–Catalonia needed armed horsemen to hold newly conquered land (Bonnassie 1991b, 208–11; Bartlett 1993, 50–1; Golding 2001, 77; Barton 2004, 64). Indeed, in most cases it was the simple possession of a horse, weapons and the ability to use them that marked this emerging social group of ‘peasants on horseback’. They should not be regarded as the lowest rung of a new aristocracy until the end of the eleventh and early twelfth centuries (Coss 1993, 27–9). Paradoxically, it was this newly emerged group of armed retainers and local notables who were instrumental in the imposition of new burdens on the peasantry through the later tenth and eleventh centuries, in a quest for increased differentiation from the social group from which they had emerged (Bisson 2009, 47). The potential and fact of dynamic social mobility between the late tenth and mid twelfth centuries has rarely been a focus of the archaeological interpretation of rural remains from this period, in Britain and France. Most archaeologists have held the view that opportunity for younger sons of an emerging caste of local lords came only through conquest: hence, the opportunism of those milites who followed William the Conqueror to England, Robert Guiscard to Sicily and southern Italy, and Roger of Montgomery and Robert Fitz Haimo into Wales. Opportunities for greater freedoms on the part of the peasantry were achieved only by migration and colonisation of land in newly conquered territories or marginal situations,

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enticed by greater freedoms of land tenure, often burgess status. Such have been the assumptions through which archaeologists have tended to frame their interpretations. Indeed, such a rigid view of eleventh- and twelfthcentury rural society, with very limited perceived opportunity for social advancement, has resulted in the seemingly easy identification of traits associated with peasant ‘producer’ sites and seigneurial ‘consumer’ or ‘high-status’ sites, whether viewed through the built environment and landscape design, patterns in consumption of domesticated and wild resources, portable wealth, or access to artisan services and exchange networks (Liddiard 2000; Hinton 2005; Creighton 2009; Sykes 2010). The impression often given is that the social and economic developments that did occur, in terms of land reclamation, settlement reorganisation and the foundation of rural markets, were the results of lordly stimulus alone. Yet the fundamental factor in a market’s success was the dynamism of the peasantry. There are, however, undoubted textual records of men not of aristocratic rank who played an especial role in encouraging the settlement of depopulated and newly won frontier zones, and profited greatly from their actions. One such man was a Fleming, called Wiso, who acted as a locator, one of a number of men who acted as agents for Henry I of England, in finding Flemish and English settlers to colonise the hinterland of the newly won Norman earldom of Pembroke, in southwest Wales, in the early twelfth century (Toorians 1990, 99–118; Kissock 1997, 131). The same Wiso may also have encouraged new colonising peasants to resettle areas of northern England and the Scottish Borders. Wiso is best characterised as a member of what might be termed a ‘peasant aristocracy’, from the same upper echelons of the free peasantry that became milites and town burgesses. The rewards for his entrepreneurial actions in the office of locator were extensive lands for himself and his family in the buffer zone settled by the Flemings, between the Norman- and Welsh-held zones of the area that was to become Pembrokeshire (Kissock 1997, 129–31). His main landholding was named after him – ‘Wis-ton’. The structural ‘footprint’ of Wiso and his sons at Wiston comprises a large motte of early to mid twelfth-century date, a large bailey which reused an existing Iron Age fort, and an associated planned village (Murphy 1997, 146–7). Such an architectural and settlement signature might normally be expected of a major landed aristocrat not an entrepreneur, recently arrived into the ranks of society’s elite. In this sense, the physical reflections of Wiso’s career serve as a warning against assumptions by archaeologists of a rigidly stratified rural society in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, described previously under the term ‘feudal’.

The social fabric: paradigms and perspectives

Towns and urban societies: competition, portable wealth and social mobility Whereas rural economic expansion has often been perceived through ‘lordly’ promotion of markets and the resettlement of peasant colonisers on newly conquered or marginal land, the further development of central places that subsequently became towns has been perceived as the result of combined stimuli from both the secular and ecclesiastical elites and the merchant and artisan communities who resided in them. In England, the planned shire central places – burhs – of much of southern England became transformed from sparsely occupied defended spaces, with occasional markets and mints, to fully fledged county towns during the eleventh and twelfth centuries (Astill 2006, 234; Carver 2010, 141); while Scandinavian-influenced towns and major ports more generally became ever more dynamic market centres and trade hubs (Astill 2000, 42; Loveluck 2012). The interaction of different social actors, all living together in the ‘theatres’ provided by the landscapes of towns – townscapes – transformed the nature of northwest European society at different rates in different places, depending on the circumstances influencing the formation of urban communities. The diversity of central places and their material ‘signatures’ grew throughout the period from the tenth to late twelfth centuries, resulting in an urban hierarchy. By AD 1150, that hierarchy ranged from settlements that were, in physical reality, rural villages but whose inhabitants had been given ‘borough’ or urban rights, to large regional market and administrative towns and major mercantile ports. By the 1190s, paramount capital cities of the kingdoms of France and England had become firmly established at Paris and London, and cities of relatively autonomous nature had developed in Flanders at Ghent and Bruges. The great mercantile ports and capital cities, in particular, provided the key arenas of interaction, patronage and competition between the landed nobility and an emerging merchant–artisan elite of ‘urban patricians’, whose power was based on portable wealth and manufacturing skills. These townscapes would act as key catalysts of social mobility and change through the central Middle Ages. It also seems clear that from the perspective of the people who wrote the textual sources, elite status was based on office- and land-holding, and in this respect maritime and merchant-oriented societies were excluded from the elite stratum. Indeed, when Heiric of Auxerre and Alfred the Great produced their idealised classifications of their societies under the ‘three orders’, at the end of the ninth century, those who worked were perceived

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and indeed portrayed as agricultural workers (Le Jan 2000, 303–4; Crouch 2005a, 226–7). Artisans and seafaring merchants were either not perceived as parts of the working population, or they and their increasingly urban worlds were deemed outsiders from the social norm. The percentage of the early medieval populations who were active seafarers and merchant– artisans may have been very small, to the point that they might have been ignored by the highest landed and intellectual elites, but their impact on social change was high, especially from the tenth century onwards. Through the tenth and eleventh centuries we witness elements of the urban seafaring outsiders becoming social ‘insiders’ as long-distance commercial networks and specialist artisan occupations became more focussed on growing towns. Indeed, the occupants of major riverside and port towns indulged in competitive lifestyles of consumption in townscapes alongside landed elites, and started buying or were given landed estates, and increasingly perceived themselves as independent social entities (Fleming 1993, 2010, 292–302; Loveluck 2011, 61–3). The citizens of London were strong enough militarily to prevent the Danish army of Cnut taking London in 1016, although possibly in association with the Essex fyrd. Indeed, it is often forgotten that in 1066 William of Normandy had to fight a second battle in London, after his victory at Hastings, in order to quell its citizens. By the early to mid twelfth century, the urban patricians of Ghent, Tours, London, Southampton and other cities of northwest Europe were building palatial Romanesque town-houses to rival those of the landed aristocracy (Platt 1973; Laleman and Raveschot 1994, 201–6; Schofield 1995, 31–3; Garrigou Grandchamp 2007, 261–4). And the de facto strength of the urban patrician–maritime elite was confirmed by the mid twelfth century, when the Anglo-Norman contingent in the taking of Lisbon in 1147, during the Second Crusade, was largely led by merchant–seafarer townsmen from Southampton, Hastings, Ipswich and Bristol, not by the landed aristocracy (Bennett 2001, 73, 76 and 82; Phillips 2007). Urban development during the twelfth century has long been observed, both in textual sources and archaeologically, as has the so-called ‘twelfthcentury Renaissance’ combining new developments in religious reform, art and intellectual exchange, with new socio-political and economic horizons in southern Europe and the Mediterranean. This urban, religious, economic and cultural dynamism has usually been placed by archaeologists in stark contrast to a rigidly ranked rural world. Yet textual research by Bourin, Durand, Fleming, Faith, Dyer and Tys relating to France, England and Flanders also demonstrates the dynamism of peasant societies between the tenth and twelfth centuries, in terms of their communal solidarity and the need for a significant degree of consensus in relations between

The social fabric: paradigms and perspectives

landlords and their tenant communities, in the functioning of rural societies (Faith 1997; Bourin and Durand 2000, 105–16; Dyer 2002; Tys 2003; Fleming 2010, 2011). Yet, by the end of the twelfth century, social freedoms of formerly free proprietors and tied peasants – villani – had diminished in England and Continental northwest Europe (Freedman 1999; Schofield 2003, 12–13). This picture, however, of a vibrant but socially rigid rural world can be shown to be the end product of two centuries of radical change, witnessing social mobility analogous to and linked with the urban world and the new socio-political circumstances of the period. From the mid to late tenth century, however, textual sources increasingly document the interlinkage of the rural and urban worlds, with rural landowners very keen to gain tenements in towns through gift or purchase and to sell in urban markets (Fleming 1993), just as merchants and artisans were anxious to be given or purchase rural estates (Nightingale 1995, 24; Baker and Holt 1996, 137–8). It has been estimated that by the time of the Domesday survey in England, a tenth of the population lived in towns, implying that the rural world was producing a substantial surplus to feed growing urban populations that were increasing through their mercantile dynamism and their attraction of migrants from the countryside (Dyer 2002, 98). General population growth in the countryside must also have contributed to the migration to towns, and despite the complexities of the written sources considerable rural population growth can be demonstrated during the eleventh and twelfth centuries. For England, the argument for growing population has been based especially on Domesday entries and subsequent twelfth-century manorial surveys, listing numbers of tenants (Dyer 2002, 155–6). However, population growth is only one of a range of contributing influences on the changes of these centuries, and its impact is often difficult to demonstrate. The archaeological evidence champions this dynamism and interlinkage between rural and urban worlds, recasting the tenth to twelfth centuries materially as an age of social mobility, definitively breaking the old apparent paradox of rapidly growing towns, especially ports with their artisan and merchant communities, set against an apparently stratified rural society, where agency for economic development and change was explained primarily as a result of lordly initiatives.

Scope and structure of the thematic analyses The study that follows explores the archaeological and other material forms of evidence from seventh- to twelfth-century northwest Europe, in the light of the new understandings and amendment of our frameworks of

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interpretation, and new discoveries made over the last two decades. The thematic analyses are divided chronologically into two parts: the Age of the Carolingians, c. AD 600–900; and from the Viking Age to Angevin hegemony, c. AD 900–1150. Discussion of the Age of the Carolingians proceeds through analysis of the farming societies of the rural world, the material manifestations of elites, the emergence of regional central places, the impact of religion on the landscape, and the role of coastal societies and the development of ports. Emphasis is placed on presenting the array of evidence in full knowledge of the diversity of social actors that could be reflected by it. Hence, the impact of social leadership by elites as agents of social change is balanced by an appreciation of the potential impact of greater numbers of free proprietors, and the likelihood of collective agency on social change. Similarly, the impact of landscape settings and social roles on behaviour is also considered in detail. For example, in relation to coastal societies, where maritime connectivity and the nature of their landscapes may have promoted access to imported commodities, specialist production and a predisposition towards trade for profit that could account for the origins of the merchant–seafarers of seventh- to ninth-century northwest Europe. In essence, stress is placed on symbiotic agency on the part of different groups to produce social change. Hence, leading landed elites may have encouraged merchants and artisans to relocate to ports for purposes of greater control of trade through taxation. Yet locating the most connected and specialist members of societies in such coastal locations probably ‘opened Pandora’s box’ by encouraging trade and provision of services for profit and lifestyles based on portable not landed wealth, once taxation had been paid and obligations to patrons fulfilled. In the pursuit of explaining the social transformations of the tenth to mid twelfth centuries, analysis is again divided between the rural and the rapidly emerging urban worlds. The new symbols of lordship in the rural landscape are explored, ranging from those of the high aristocracy to the often newly emerged local notables who attempted to emulate them. Emphasis in the analysis of the changes in the rural landscapes of northwest Europe is placed on evidence of the social mobility of peasant families during the tenth and eleventh centuries, to match the picture of equivalent mobility seen within textual sources. The creation of settlement types, such as the castle, and functional roles and social practices, such as horse-borne mobility, the trappings of a military role and activities such as hunting, are situated within the context of the full social spectrum of people who used them, from rich peasant to aristocrat. Wider settlement and landscape

The social fabric: paradigms and perspectives

reorganisation is then considered, achieved through a range of initiatives and agencies. This is followed by analysis of how seafarers, merchants and artisans confronted and cooperated with the initiatives of landed elites, to produce dynamic urban growth and a diversity and hierarchy of towns of various characters, from major mercantile port cities to rural villages with the judicial status of boroughs. All the urban developments can be situated against a battle for status between portable and landed wealth which resulted in a merchant and urban patrician elite to eventually rival the landed aristocracy.

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The Age of the Carolingians, c. AD 600–900

3 Small farming communities of West Francia,

AD 600–900

Settlement continuities and discontinuities, AD 500–600 Any study addressing the transformation of northwest European societies during the early Middle Ages must begin its analysis with the examination of the productive base which supported all other aspects of life; namely the farming communities of the rural world. From the later sixth to early seventh century, there were significant changes in elements of the rural settlement patterns across West Francia and Anglo-Saxon England, involving the foundation of new hamlets, nucleated settlements and newly differentiated settlements of secular and ecclesiastical elites (see Chapters 4 to 8). In some cases, the foundation of new settlements has been viewed as evidence for the infilling of the landscape as a result of colonisation of waste land between existing settlement foci or of the permanent colonisation of marginal landscapes, such as woodland, marshland and uplands (Lorren and Périn 1997, 109; Hamerow 2002, 150). The explanations for this settlement expansion have been attributed variously to combinations of demographic growth, the devolution of royal powers through the creation of an increasingly landed secular and ecclesiastical aristocracy, and a reorganisation of settlement patterns linked to new concepts of landholding (Verhulst 1985; Peytremann 2003; Devroey 2006; Nissen-Jaubert 2009, 133). While new foundations and the appearance of new elite settlement types indicate innovation, there was not necessarily huge discontinuity in relation to existing settlement foci. Some sites occupied during the sixth century were abandoned in the course of the seventh and eighth centuries in the territories bordering the Channel and North Sea, and Peytremann has suggested that this was a wider trend in northern France (Peytremann 2003). For example, the settlements at Brebières (Pas-de-Calais) and Goudelancourt-lès-Pierrepont (Aisne) in northern France were abandoned in the later seventh century (Demolon 1972; Nice 1988, 1994). The settlements at Mucking (Essex), West Stow (Suffolk) and Carlton Colville (Suffolk) provide examples of settlements abandoned during the course of the eighth century, in southeast England (West 1985; Hamerow 2002, 123;

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Blinkhorn 2009, 359; Lucy 2009, 427–34). In other cases, however, settlements occupied in the sixth century continued to be inhabited into the ninth century and sometimes later. Some underwent considerable changes in their nature during this time span. Examples of settlements seeing continuous activity include Mondeville (Calvados), Villiers-le-Bâcle (Essonne), Sarry (Loir-et-Cher) and Château Gaillard ‘Le Recourbe’ (Ain) in France (Lorren and Périn 1997, 104–7; Vicherd 2001, 182–4; Jesset 2004, 89); Sint Andries (West Flanders) and Hermalle-sous-Huy (Thier d’Olne) (Wallonnie), near Amay, in Belgium (Hillewaert and Hollevoet 2006, 139; Witvrouw 1999, 105–8; Verslype 2002); Rijnsburg (Holland) in the Rhine delta (Bazelmans, Dijkstra and De Koning 2004, 22–6); and West Heslerton (North Yorkshire), in England (Powlesland 2000, 19–26) respectively. On the Atlantic fringes of northwest Europe, from Brittany, through Cornwall, Wales, Ireland and northern Britain, there was also continued occupation of existing settlements, with many sixth-century sites occupied into the seventh, eighth and ninth centuries, whether they were major fortified secular centres (Stout 1997; Lane and Campbell 2000; Redknap 2004; Cunliffe and Galliou 2007); monasteries (Hill 1997; King 1998; Bardel and Perennec 2004; Carver et al. 2004); farming settlements (Pearce 2004; Quinnell 2004; O’Sullivan 2008); crannogs – settlements constructed on artificial or man-altered islands in lakes (Crone and Campbell 2005; O’sullivan 2008); or beach landing places (Fox 1955; Liversage 1981; May and Weddell 2002; Griffiths et al. 2007; Griffiths 2009). In some instances in northern and western Britain, however, key secular settlements were abandoned in the later seventh and eighth centuries as a result of sociopolitical change at the top of societies. For example, the Mote of Mark (Dumfries and Galloway, Scotland) seems to have been abandoned shortly after Northumbrian, Anglo-Saxon conquest of the region, in the late seventh century (Laing and Longley 2006, 179). Nevertheless, the course of the later sixth and seventh centuries undoubtedly saw numerous new settlement foundations which hint at major reorganisation of rural settlement patterns across Anglo-Saxon England and northwest Francia, in particular. This impression is further reinforced in the region north of the River Loire to the River Rhine by the fact that the new rural settlements tended not to be sited in close proximity to the large row-grave cemeteries, founded in the later fifth and early sixth centuries. Instead, the people living on the new settlements created their own spaces for the dead within or nearby their areas of habitation, and it was not uncommon for several inhumation burial foci and isolated

Small farming communities of West Francia, AD 600–900

individual burials to be sited within the bounds of a single agricultural settlement, whether a mortuary chapel existed or not (Zadora-Rio 2003, 7). Burial alignments were also highly variable, with north–south graves sited within and outside Christian chapels, as well as east–west aligned graves. Sometimes too, new cemeteries of small burial mounds were created beyond settlements, and used during the seventh and eighth centuries, as at Limerlé (Ardenne, Belgium), possibly for a leading family, but few were richly attired apart from a single buckle or brooch per grave (Lambert 1991, 183–5). For Anglo-Saxon England too, the communal cemeteries of the fifth to mid sixth centuries saw new fashions of burial furnishing from the 560s–570s, and were often abandoned in favour of newly founded cemeteries, used until the later seventh or early eighth centuries. Just as in northwest Francia, there were also numerous variations. Cemeteries were located beyond settlements, sometimes focussed and aligned upon preexisting burial mounds or earthworks in the landscape; and graves were also placed within both already ancient and newly created burial mounds (Geake 1997). Between the seventh and early eighth centuries, groups of graves were also located within the spaces of the living in England, on settlements that have been identified variously as estate centres, nucleated settlements, small hamlets and monastic centres (see below, and Chapters 5 to 7). Some of the newly founded settlements, in their turn, did not always enjoy a continuous uninterrupted development through the later first millennium AD. A number of them appear to have a hiatus in their occupation sequences, or reduced habitation in West Francia, during the eighth century (Bonin 1999, 58–9; Peytremann 2003). These same settlements then often saw an increased level of activity again, between the ninth and eleventh centuries. Others in England and Francia were occupied continuously from the seventh century into the tenth or eleventh centuries AD. A considerable level of diversity is, therefore, apparent in occurrences of settlement abandonment, foundation, and in the length of occupational histories of individual settlements. In some cases, assumptions of hiatus or rupture in settlement occupation may also be a consequence of chronological sequences derived from ceramics that need further refining (Gentili, Lefèvre and Mahé 2003, 10). The greatest degree of stability and continuity of occupation, however, is demonstrated among the settlements of single farming households or on small hamlets of several farming families. For both northwest Francia and Anglo-Saxon England, archaeologists and historians have been tempted to link the changes evident in the

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landscapes of the seventh and eighth centuries with the consequences of socio-political and religious reorganisation. In Francia, the changes have been linked to the increased gifting of land-immunities by the Merovingian kings to a growing secular and ecclesiastical aristocracy and the consequent creation of the bipartite estate system, with a geographical concentration of these estates between the Rivers Loire and Rhine. In Anglo-Saxon England, new secular and ecclesiastical settlement foundations and abandonment of some settlements during the first half of the eighth century have been interpreted as a consequence of the reorganisation of existing agricultural territories of ‘composite’ or ‘multiple’ landholdings, belonging to extended families, into estates held by individuals or smaller family groups and individual institutions (Hooke 1998). This change has usually been associated with a change in concepts of landownership promoted by the Roman Church, in its encouragement of defining territories and ownership by the written word – the ‘booking’ of land by charter (Bocland/Bookland) – and also by changing concepts of power over land on the part of Anglo-Saxon kings, whether their own patrimonies or those of others within their kingdoms (Faith 1997; Blair 2005). Again, such changing concepts on the part of royal lineages are also usually linked to the influence of the Roman Church. There is no doubt that the creation of bipartite estates in West Francia and the conceptual changes in the nature of landholding in England resulted in the redefinition of regional and supra-regional elite identities, and the way that elite position was expressed and resourced. Nor is there doubt that these changes caused significant reorganisation of tracts of rural landscape and communities tied to them. Nevertheless, those settlements occupied continuously from the sixth to tenth century in both regions imply that potential changes in the nature of rural power were not always made manifest physically, and did not impact on everyone. So much in the interpretation of the archaeological reflections of farming families, in particular, depends on the perspective from which the evidence is approached. A historian trying to demonstrate the physical impact of the bipartite estate in Francia or of ‘Bookland’ estates in Anglo-Saxon England may be tempted to interpret new farmsteads, hamlets and nucleated settlements of farming families as a reflection of aristocratic reorganisation of the landscape. Such an elite-led interpretation, however, would also assume a huge lack of dynamism and initiative on the part of the textually attested, but little discussed, group of free proprietor allod-holders, dispersed throughout the landscapes of northwest Europe (Wickham 1992; Zadora-Rio 1995, 148–9; Bonin 1999, 46; Tys 2003).

Small farming communities of West Francia, AD 600–900

Hamlets and single farmsteads: lifestyles and hierarchies France north of the River Loire In northern France, especially in the Paris basin (the Île-de-France), the principal focus of rural settlement research has been directed towards sites that were documented within late seventh- to tenth-century written sources. The excavations undertaken have been facilitated, in the main, through redevelopment of existing village settlements and through the construction of high-speed train routes. The textual visibility of estates, their centres, and their aristocratic and monastic landowners (see Chapters 5 to 7) has understandably led archaeological work to concentrate on those documented sites, in the expectation of encountering early medieval remains. Yet undocumented nucleated settlements, hamlets and farmsteads are more likely to have housed that unknown proportion of society comprising the free-proprietor allodholders or combinations of semi-free or tied peasants, and the focus of archaeological work on documented sites of larger agglomerations has undoubtedly constrained attempts at assessing the relative importance of the smaller settlements and their inhabitants as actors in rural society (Fossier 1991, 42; Chapelot 1993, 178). Fortunately, since the early 1990s opportunity to begin the archaeological exploration of undocumented hamlets and farmsteads in northern France has been provided through rescue excavations in advance of development, principally at the sites of Chessy ‘Le Bois de Paris’ (Seine-et-Marne) (Bonin 1999, 2); Sarry (Loir-et-Cher) (Jesset 2004, 89); Montours (Ille-et-Vilaine) and La Chapelle-Saint-Aubert (Ille-et-Vilaine) (Catteddu 2001, 16). The settlement at Chessy ‘Le Bois de Paris’ was located on the Brie plateau, 4.5 kilometres southeast of the River Marne (see Map 1). A series of documented villa estate centres were located in relatively close proximity, at Bussy-Saint-Georges, Bussy-Saint-Martin and Lagny-sur-Marne, all mentioned from the late seventh century in charters, and again in the Gesta Dagoberti in the ninth and tenth centuries (Bonin 1999, 5–6). Chessy also lies only 1.5 kilometres north of the commune of Serris, which housed the aristocratic residence of Serris ‘Les Ruelles’, along with a series of nearby farmsteads (Gentili 2010, 127). An area of 12 hectares of topsoil was removed by machine at Chessy, in 1992. Gallo-Roman routeways leading to a farmstead within a rectangular ditched enclosure were uncovered, together with a field system to its south. The enclosed area of the farmstead covered almost 3 hectares. It was apparently abandoned during the third

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century AD, and there was no evidence of reoccupation until the early sixth century (Bonin 1999, 5). Two phases were defined in the early medieval occupational history at Chessy: the first extended from the first half of the sixth to the eighth century, and the second from the eighth until the end of the tenth century (Figure 1). During the first phase of activity, the rectangular enclosure ditch was recut, although shallower than its Gallo-Roman predecessor. The southwest corner of the enclosure, however, was defined by a fence or palisade, suggested by post-holes, and several small field parcels were defined to the west and south. There were two spatial zones within the enclosure, one for the living and one for the dead. The habitation zone for the living was sited in the centre of the enclosure, with one main residential building, constructed with post-hole foundations, to the north of the central stone-founded building of the former Gallo-Roman farmstead. The post-hole foundations from the main residential building are thought to represent a two-aisled building, 11.80 m in length and 5.60 m in width. A hearth and a storage pit were located outside the building (Bonin 1999, 36–8). The zone for the dead was located approximately 40 m to the south of the habitation area, around a large, stone-founded building of the GalloRoman farmstead. Eight inhumation graves, containing thirteen individuals, were sited around the building. Six of the graves were aligned approximately east–west, and two on a north–south axis. At least one of the inhumations was buried in a coffin, and all the single inhumations were extended and laid supine in the graves. However, multiple burials were a key feature of this grave group. One grave contained four individuals: a man and a woman of between 55 and 60 years, with another man and woman of between 35 and 45 years of age. Another contained a man not less than 40 years old and a woman of between 55 and 60 years of age. A smaller group of five east–west aligned inhumations was also located just outside the eastern boundary of the enclosure, although they were poorly preserved. Three isolated burials were also located within the settlement. All the burials were of mature adults, where it was possible to give an age estimation. Only the group of burials within the enclosure was datable, to a period between the seventh and ninth century, on the basis of a seventhcentury buckle, relative stratigraphic relationships and datable ceramics (Bonin 1999, 29–36). Between the eighth century and the end of the tenth century (phase 2), there was no significant change in the nature of the enclosure at Chessy. The settlement remained stable in terms of location from the sixth century

Small farming communities of West Francia, AD 600–900

(a)

Graves

Graves

(b)

N

0

50

100 m

Figure 1 Plan of the settlement at Chessy ‘Le Bois de Paris’ (Seine-et-Marne): (a) sixth to eighth centuries; (b) eighth to tenth centuries

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until the late tenth century. Most of the datable finds, notably ceramics (redpainted wares) from phase 2, dated from the ninth and tenth centuries. Within the enclosure, the main residential building was replaced by a very similar building several metres to the south; and a granary, built on six posts, was sited over the earlier residential building. Other new buildings were also constructed, presumed to have had a storage function (Bonin 1999, 38). There is also evidence of settlement expansion. Another large post-hole building (Building 3), probably used for residential purposes or as a stable, was constructed just outside the western boundary of the enclosure, seemingly rebuilt several times on the same plot. Other smaller post-hole buildings were sited in the small field parcels to the south (Bonin 1999, 39–40). The settlement seems to have been abandoned sometime in the later tenth century. There was one key difference in the use of space within the enclosure in phase 2, which occurred sometime in the late eighth to early ninth century. The burial zone within the enclosure was abandoned, with sufficient lack of memory or communal care for likely ancestors for a large storage pit to have been dug through one of the graves around the southern Roman building. There is no evidence of the creation of a new internal burial space and the small external burial group may have replaced it for a very limited period. The hamlet of several farming families at Sarry (Loir-et-Cher) exhibits many of the traits seen at Chessy, especially in regard to settlement stability and diversity of burial locations for the dead near the habitation spaces of the living. The site of Sarry is located approximately 2 kilometres to the west of Saran, north of Orléans (Map 1). As at Chessy a large enough area was stripped clear of topsoil to reveal a hamlet, covering an area of 2 hectares, continuously occupied from the second half of the seventh century until abandonment between the eleventh and twelfth centuries. Between the second half of the seventh century and the mid eighth century, post-hole-founded buildings were established in four locations either side of a north–south-running trackway, with four small discrete burial zones seemingly serving the groups of buildings. At least two large residential and storage buildings stood within two larger clusters of structures immediately adjacent to the north–south trackway, and one large residential building stood in each of two smaller clusters to their north and west, separated from the larger groups by ditches and an east–west-running trackway. Two small cemeteries were located to the south of the two larger family groups, one each side of the north–south trackway. Groups of several burials were also located adjacent to the smaller building clusters, within the space bounded by their ditched enclosures (Jesset 2004, 89–91). Through the

Small farming communities of West Francia, AD 600–900

later eighth and ninth centuries, an increased number of buildings became concentrated in the existing central zone of the settlement, now at the juncture of the north–south and east–west tracks. The northern and western building plots had been abandoned in favour of the single residential zone. The excavator suggests that the buildings were grouped around one principal residence, the footprint of which covered 72 square metres. Nevertheless, despite the clustering of the buildings around the central focus, three main cemetery groups continued to be used and remained distinct, in addition to isolated smaller groups of graves (Jesset 2004, 90–1 and 93). The farmsteads and field systems of Montours and La Chapelle-SaintAubert, in the Fougères region of eastern Brittany (Map 1), also show the same stability in use of space between the seventh and tenth centuries as exhibited at Chessy and Sarry. Unlike the latter sites, however, burials were not placed in proximity to the living at Montours and La Chapelle-SaintAubert. Between 1995 and 1997, four areas of seventh- to tenth-century farmsteads and their associated field systems were excavated in advance of motorway construction: three in the commune of Montours at ‘Le Teilleul’, ‘Louvaquint’ and ‘La Talvassais’; and one in La Chapelle-Saint-Aubert – ‘La Chaine’ (Catteddu et al. 2001). As a whole, they provide an unprecedented collection of field systems (although not an open-field system), which developed and remained stable through the Carolingian period. A series of enclosures within the field parcel structure contained groups of buildings, storage features, hearths/ovens and pits (Catteddu et al. 2001, 216–19). Some of these represent the residential zones for farming families dispersed within the wider field systems; while others could represent storage, stable or workshop buildings in less densely utilised plots. At ‘Le Teilleul’, the field system can be shown to have developed around the inhabited enclosures, on the basis of relative stratigraphy and datable finds (Catteddu et al. 2001, 212–13). Most likely candidates as residential buildings from ‘Le Teilleul’ are two buildings constructed on dry-stone sill foundations, and another built by sill beam or post-in-trench construction techniques (Catteddu et al. 2001, 39–44). However, it is likely that some of the buildings represented by disturbed groups of post-holes in different parcels also represent residential as well as ancillary buildings at ‘La Talvassais’ and ‘La Chaine’ (Catteddu et al. 2001, 44–6, 148–50 and 174–6). The settlements and the majority of the field enclosures appear to have been abandoned in the course of the tenth century. A number of observations can be made about the character of lifestyles on these hamlets and farmsteads that potentially shed light on the status

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and social networks of their inhabitants. In terms of refuse strategies, conspicuous discard of artefact remains other than pottery was not a feature of any of these settlements. At Montours and La Chapelle-SaintAubert, however, the acid leaching of the sand subsoil produced poor preservation conditions for organic remains and iron artefacts, with the exception of a waterlogged area by an eighth- to tenth-century ford (Catteddu et al. 2001, 110–11, 218–19). All have provided evidence of agricultural production and crop processing. The preserved organic remains indicated that cereal and flax cultivation was being practised in the fields of the Montours farmsteads. Levels of craft-working and metalworking at Montours and Sarry reflected support of the immediate farming households alone (Catteddu et al. 2001, 217–18; Jesset 2004, 90–1). At Montours, debris from iron-smithing was found within some of the farmstead enclosures, alongside two glass smoothers for textile finishing. Ironworking may have been an activity carried out by some of the farming families themselves, and those with the necessary skills may have provided a service to others in the community of dispersed households on a yearround or seasonal basis. Only the wheel-made pottery and artefacts such as a buckle, from a grave at Chessy, and the glass smoothers from Montours ‘Le Teilleul’ demonstrate the integration of these small farming communities within wider social and exchange networks. The status of the people living on these northern French hamlets and farmsteads is difficult to define. The excavator of the farmstead at Chessy has suggested that it could represent either the remains of a manse or mansus, the settlement of a single farming household tied to a larger bipartite estate, or a settlement of a free proprietor family of allod holders. In this context, parallels were drawn with a similar small hamlet excavated at Servon ‘L’Arpent Ferret’ (Seineet-Marne), occupied from the fifth to eleventh century, where the recovery of a scramasax of eighth- to ninth-century date was suggested as an indication of free status (Map 1). No weapons were found at Chessy (Gentili and Hourlier 1995, 121–33; Bonin 1999, 42; Pecqueur 2003, 22). The excavator of Sarry has suggested that the central residential zone of the later eighth to ninth century represents a curtis centre of a larger bipartite estate, on the basis that Sarry has been identified with the fiscus or estate of Ceresiacum in a charter of Louis the Pious, dated to 836 (Jesset 2004, 91 and 93). Despite this textually based identification, however, and the central settlement zone with its focal building and subordinate structures being reminiscent of a courtyard, the archaeological profile of this hamlet seems very different from the settlements that acted as foci for

Small farming communities of West Francia, AD 600–900

conspicuous consumption by members of the secular aristocracy (discussed in Chapter 7). If the apparently self-sufficient settlement at Sarry was the centre of a bipartite estate, as suggested by the excavator, then the fact that it was a possession of the monastery of Saint-Mesmin by 836 might explain the relative absence in the display of wealth on the settlement, with the exception of the principal residence (Jesset 2004, 91). The wealth in renders or rents drawn away from the estate centre could have been expressed at the parent monastery instead. It is also questionable, however, whether one should automatically assume that Sarry was associated with a bipartite estate. Given its small size, it may be more appropriate to view any associated landholding more on the scale of the smaller colonica estates encountered in the Loire valley (Zadora-Rio and Galinié 2001, 226; Sato 2004, 32–5). The farming families represented at Montours and La ChapelleSaint-Aubert, in contrast, are interpreted against the background of location in the Breton March, the border region between Frankish and Breton territory that came under Breton control in the course of the ninth century (Catteddu et al. 2001, 20). Contemporary seventh- to ninth-century farmsteads and hamlets in the Breton areas further to the west have remained elusive, although a dry-stone sub-rectangular building excavated at Livroac’h (Finistère), interpreted as a workshop, has been dated to the seventh century by radiocarbon dates (Quaghebeur 2002, 434–5). The building at Livroac’h shows close similarities with the tenth-century oratory in the cemetery of Saint-Urnel (Finistère); the eleventh- to twelfthcentury buildings from the hamlet of Pen-er-Malo (Morbihan); and the ‘early medieval’ and ‘medieval’ buildings from Le Yaudet-Ploulec’h (Côtes-d’Armor) (Cunliffe and Galliou 2007, 92–5). The Montours and La Chapelle-Saint-Aubert landscape of farms is quite different from the latter settlements and may reflect a landscape of free farmers or tenanted families in the border region, with affiliation more to the Frankish world. It is important to note, however, that despite the ninth century seeing changing political control from Frankish to Breton, and Viking raiding, the farming landscape at Montours and La Chapelle-Saint-Aubert does not reflect any of these known political events. Other indications that the hamlets and farmsteads discussed above were not settlements with a gravitational pull on resources are provided by the burial practices encountered on them, or their absence. At both Chessy and Sarry the small size of the groups of inhumations suggests that they reflect the burial grounds of the lineages of the family or families living on the settlements. At Sarry, the burials were not focussed on any building but at

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Chessy it is deemed possible that the Gallo-Roman building, around which burials were placed, could still have been serviceable if renovated. It is also postulated that the Gallo-Roman building could have acted as a small family oratory chapel, forming the focus for assumed Christian burial (Bonin 1999, 43). The reuse of Roman buildings, including former pagan temples, as foci for inhumation burial or as Christian oratories is part of a wider phenomenon in northern France and Belgium, encountered at Saint-Georges-de-Boscherville (Seine-Maritime), Boos (Seine-Maritime), Gisay-la-Coudre (Eure) and Tavigny (Ardenne) among others; and most of the graves interred in them date from the seventh and eighth centuries AD, as at Chessy (Lambert 1991, 188–9; Le Maho 2004, 54–60) (Map 1). The demise of the use of the burial zones at Chessy is attributed to the development of a church and cemetery focus at an unknown estate or parish centre (Bonin 1999, 43–4). The possible development of a parish or estate burial focus for Chessy during the early ninth century may be mirrored at Sarry. The shift to the use of a presumed central burial focus at Sarry, however, did not occur until the tenth century and none of the buildings on the settlement can be interpreted as a church or mortuary chapel. The absence of a central burial focus at Sarry is another trait that suggests it was not an estate centre in its seventh- to ninth-century incarnation, given that the presence of a church and associated cemetery has been seen as a typical feature of estate and parochial centres in these centuries (Theuws 1999a, 345; Zadora-Rio and Galinié 2001, 225–6). The farming families reflected by the farmsteads within the landscape at Montours and La Chapelle-Saint-Aubert may have possessed a communal cemetery but its exact nature and location remain unknown. It may have comprised an isolated oratory chapel, around which burials were interred as at the excavated example from Paule (Côtes-d’Armor) (Map 1). The chapel, 11 m by 7 m in size, is dedicated today to St Symphorien, and was constructed on a dry-stone sill base, probably during the ninth century but possibly earlier (Le Gall and Menez 2008). A group of fourteen graves seems to have been associated with it. Both the chapel and the graves were sited on some springs, adjacent to an Iron Age oppidum, and their location may be a reflection of Christianisation of an earlier sacred site. A blue glass terminal from a glass-headed pin of early medieval date and a blue glass bead from a grave suggest an early medieval date for the burials. Three silver denier coins, struck at Melle after 848, during the reign of Charles the Bald (840–77), were placed as a seemingly intentional deposit within a small pit inside the chapel (Le Gall and Menez 2008, 20–1). An iron ploughshare was placed in a pit under the porch of the chapel as another

Small farming communities of West Francia, AD 600–900

votive deposit. It was perhaps associated with ritual preparation of the site of the chapel by ploughing (Le Gall and Menez 2008, 18–19 and 21). A ploughshare has also been recovered from a pit, which could not be dated more closely than between the eighth and ninth centuries, near to a mortuary chapel at Flixborough (Lincolnshire), in eastern England (Loveluck 2007a, pl. 5.2; Ottaway 2009, 245). Ritual preparation of the ground prior to constructing a church seems to have been a relatively common practice during the early medieval period, and was perhaps marked by the deliberate deposition of the ploughshare that achieved the task in some instances. It also has to be admitted, however, that deposition of ploughshares in pits and post-holes is a wider feature found on other rural settlements, dating from the early medieval period. For example, at Hulsel (Kempen) in the southern Netherlands, dating from the eleventh to twelfth centuries; and at Corbeilles (Loiret), in northern France, dating from the tenth to eleventh centuries (Theuws 1999b, 275–6; Le Gall and Menez 2008, 18). Some ploughshares have also been recovered from graves, dating from between the seventh and ninth centuries in Rhineland Germany, and Henning has suggested that in these funerary instances the ploughshares may have reflected the aftermath of judicial ordeals by ‘hot iron’ (Henning 2007a, 109–14). It is also possible that the intentional and individual deposition of ploughshares within settlement contexts could reflect the survival of aspects of pre-Christian local religious practices. Coexistence of pre-Christian and Christian practices alongside each other in the Carolingian rural world has been noted by Paul Dutton. In his study of ‘official’ ecclesiastical and Carolingian royal attempts to counteract the longevity of heathen beliefs among the pagani (the inhabitants of the rural world), he noted the continued existence of ‘stormmakers’ and ‘wizards’, who the pagani believed could control the weather, bring forth hail – so damaging to cereal crops – and act in divination roles (Dutton 2004, 170–6). The intention of these late eighth- and ninthcentury clerics and kings was to prevent pagan middlemen interceding between the people and the official beliefs of the Church, and the Carolingian imperial hegemony supported by it (Dutton 2004, 174–5). Perhaps most important, however, is Dutton’s observation that the views of bishops, other senior clerics and the Carolingians were forces acting on regional rural societies from the outside. They were external to the ‘thought-worlds’ and beliefs held by many rural-dwellers, including local notables and even some regional aristocrats, in the form of counts (Dutton 2004, 175). In this sense, the archaeological evidence potentially provides crucial indications of the local dynamics of conversion to Christianity, and

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warns against the uncritical imposition of interpretations unduly guided by ideal practices, seen through the writings of senior churchmen.

France south of the River Loire South of the River Loire, the rural farmsteads and hamlets investigated through excavation present many similarities to the situation north of the river but there are also some differences. For example, there is more variation in the length of occupational histories, and there are differences in lifestyles and social networks on the basis of proximity to the Mediterranean world. A greater diversity of settlements that can be labelled under the terms ‘farmstead’ or ‘hamlet’ is also evident in southern France, as smaller settlements tended to be the norm in the rural world. Some clusters of structures possess large residential buildings, and large buildings seemingly for storage. In such cases, they may reflect estate centres – direct successors of Late Antique villa settlement foci, housing a leading family but without attendant households. In other circumstances, the farmsteads and hamlets seem to reflect farming families of relatively modest means and status. The distinction between a hamlet housing members of the social elite and a settlement housing a lower-ranking farming family may be reflected in aspects of lifestyle associated with consumption of resources and the extent of social networks evident. Two examples of hamlets where such distinctions are made manifest are situated in the immediate rural hinterland of the city of Lyon (Rhône): one settlement was located on the slopes of the Croix-Rousse plateau, and the other on the slopes of the small valley of Trion, leading into the plaine de Vase (Gisclon et al. 2001, 371–97; Ayala et al. 2003, 33–62). The settlement situated in the valley of Trion – Lyon ‘Rue Pierre Audry’ (Map 3) – exhibits an occupation sequence beginning in the sixth to early seventh century and ending in the later ninth or early tenth century (Gisclon et al. 2001, 380–1). Occupation was focussed on two ranges of buildings, either entirely constructed in masonry and dry-stone or built on the stone sills. The ranges of buildings were also constructed on a terrace and may have formed an open courtyard. These ranges were renovated and enlarged through five phases of superimposed activity, with the building complex reaching its greatest extent in phase 4, during the eighth to early ninth century (Gisclon et al. 2001, 376–9 and 381). The deposits from the different phases also yielded approximately 10,000 stratified animal-bone fragments and an abundant assemblage of pottery. Other artefact remains were very limited in number. In its earliest phase a double grave,

Small farming communities of West Francia, AD 600–900

constructed using tiles, with one surviving inhumation, was also sited within 20 m of the main residential buildings (Gisclon et al. 2001, 380). The trends in animal-bone discard allow some observations on exploitation patterns of domestic and wild animals through the occupation sequence. Between the seventh and ninth centuries, sheep and goats dominated (46% of the overall assemblage on the basis of the number of bone fragments); pigs were in second place (33%) and cattle were third (providing 15% of the bones); while others (chickens, geese, wild animals and birds) accounted for only 6% of the assemblage (Olive in Gisclon et al. 2001, 394). Changes are evident, however, in the consumption patterns through the occupational history of the settlement. Consumption of sheep declined through time, whilst cattle and pig consumption was more evident from eighth- to early tenth-century deposits. From the mid to late seventh century, cattle were also consumed at a young age (less than 30 months), in their prime for provision of meat. Exploitation of wild resources was very limited, reaching a relative peak in eighth- to early tenth-century deposits. Wild species hunted included the grey partridge, wild boar, red deer and hare, and snails were also consumed (Olive in Gisclon et al. 2001, 395–6). Taken as a whole, the excavator has suggested that the seventh- to ninth-century settlement of Lyon ‘Rue Pierre Audry’ represents a villa estate centre (Gisclon et al. 2001, 397). The trends in animal consumption are certainly reminiscent of those at settlements housing elements of the secular aristocracy (see Chapter 7); however, there is no evidence of consumption of luxuries or sponsorship of artisans in the artefact assemblage. The excavations of the settlement of Lyon ‘Rue des Chartreux’, on the slopes of the Croix-Rousse plateau overlooking Lyon (Map 3), partially uncovered a series of dry-stone sill foundations for buildings, situated in an L-shape, and possibly part of a collection of buildings sited around a courtyard. A group of six stone-lined graves, aligned east–west, was located approximately 10 m to the north of the residential buildings. Three of the graves contained identifiable skeletal information, revealing two adult females and a child of 12 to 13 years of age (Ayala et al. 2003, 52). The settlement was dated on the basis of radiocarbon dates, artefact chronologies and a colluvium layer sealing it, to a short occupational history spanning the seventh century. Soil erosion of the slope was a possible reason for its abandonment (Ayala et al. 2003, 45). The excavated deposits yielded 1,793 animal bones, with sheep providing 74%, then pigs at 15.7% and cattle at 10% of the remains. Very few domestic fowl or other animals were identified, apart from a very small number of rabbit bones, and snails

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and oysters. The dominance of sheep husbandry over pig and cattle accords with the consumption patterns at nearly all other sites dating from the seventh to ninth centuries in Lyon (Ayala et al. 2003, 33 and 45). The excavators interpreted the settlement at ‘Rue des Chartreux’ as a family farmstead in the immediate hinterland of Lyon, possessing its own family burial ground despite the proximity of the funerary basilicas of the nearby early medieval town (Ayala et al. 2003, 55–6). Its animal consumption patterns were significantly different from the settlement at ‘Rue Pierre Audry’, possibly suggesting a greater wealth and status for the latter settlement, but the artefact profile from the family farmstead at ‘Rue des Chartreux’ was the wealthier of the two, and included fourteen fragments of glass vessels (Ayala et al. 2003, 43). The labelling of the Lyon ‘Rue Pierre Audry’ and the Sarry settlements as villa estate centres by their excavators, despite the lack of evidence for a gravitational pull on resources for ostentatious display, could reflect two phenomena. Firstly, a real regional diversity in the archaeological reflections of small estate centres may have existed; and secondly, there may be a desire on the part of archaeologists to label settlements as villa estate centres that appear to have greater levels of wealth than known excavated sites in a locality, without comparison with more demonstrable aristocratic estate centres. In reality, a greater diversity of settlements is now presenting itself than has previously been expected and uncritical attribution of the label villa estate centre may contribute to masking diversity in the rural settlement hierarchy. It is a matter of debate at what point the settlement of a farming family with its own lands should be regarded as an estate centre. In some respects, use of the label villa estate centre in France can be equated with the similarly uncritical use of the label ‘high status’ as applied to diverse Anglo-Saxon settlement types of the seventh to ninth centuries in England (Loveluck 2007a, 147).

Flanders and the southern Netherlands to the River Rhine Whereas the farmsteads and hamlets of France were undoubtedly interspersed between larger nucleated settlements and estate centres, the landscapes of large parts of Flanders and the southern Netherlands appear to have comprised predominantly hamlets and farmsteads as the principal settlement types beyond estate centres and monasteries (see Maps 1 and 4). Frans Theuws has suggested that the settlement pattern of the Kempen region, extending from eastern Flanders across the southwest Netherlands, and covering the lower reaches of the Rivers Meuse, Demer, Scheldt and

Small farming communities of West Francia, AD 600–900

Rhine, was characterised by small, dispersed farmsteads until the mid seventh century, on the basis of excavated evidence from ReuselDe-Mierden and Geldrop. Subsequently, between the mid seventh and mid eighth centuries some existing farmsteads, like Geldrop, expanded into hamlets of up to five farming families, each with a focal timber building, founded in post-holes, along with ancillary structures and fences to organise space (Theuws 1999a, 340–2). In other instances in the Kempen region, entirely new settlements were founded during the second half of the seventh century and into the early eighth century, as at Dommelen and Hulsel (Theuws 1991, 365–8, 1999b, 280–1). The new settlement foundation of Dommelen, situated on the summit of a sand plateau, developed into a significant hamlet like Geldrop, with a series of farming households apparent by the early eighth century (Theuws 1991, 368–9). The expansion of the Geldrop settlement and the foundation of Dommelen were accompanied by a change in burial custom at both sites in the later seventh century. Small numbers of relatively wealthy, furnished male and female graves were sited close to the habitation zones of the farmsteads, rather than in the earlier, large communal cemeteries of the area (Theuws 1990, 60). The earlier graves at Dommelen, from circa AD 675, were the most wealthy, including a man (grave 1) with weapons and a gold tremissis coin placed in his mouth, struck by the moneyer Madelinus, at Dorestad (Theuws 1999a, 344), and a woman (grave 2) who was accompanied by a gold disc brooch, silver earrings and a gold-decorated belt fitting, among other items. During the eighth century, men, women and children were buried in two groups associated with two different farmsteads but male graves were soon situated elsewhere; and by the mid eighth century no further burials occurred on the settlement (Theuws 1991, 367–9). A similar phenomenon of richer family grave groups associated with principal farmsteads is also seen further down the Rhine valley at the settlement of Lauchheim (Baden-Württemburg), at the Mittelhofen farmstead of the settlement (Stork 1993, 231–9; Damminger 1998, 62–4). The small groups of burials associated with the individual households in the Kempen region and at Lauchheim are very similar in character to those found at Chessy, Sarry and Lyon ‘Rue de Chartreux’ in France. However, in the Kempen and Baden-Württemburg regions their grave accompaniments were substantially richer, probably reflecting different burial traditions rather than any significant difference in social status. Theuws has linked the foundation of new settlements in the Kempen region with population growth and territorial reorganisation, associated with the

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creation of larger estates and the emergence of new elites, some of whom may not have been of local origin. The male graves at Geldrop and Dommelen contained belt sets most closely paralleled in the Moselle and middle Rhine regions (Theuws 1999a, 343–5). As at Sarry, no buildings which could be interpreted as oratories or churches were discovered at Geldrop or Dommelen, and the settlements are interpreted as secondary settlements – local centres with internal ranking within them – subordinate to larger estate centres (Theuws 1999, 342). If, however, the right to bear arms was a feature of free proprietors, then the wealthy man in grave 1 at Dommelen could be interpreted as a comparatively wealthy free peasant landowner who did not have obligations to any controlling estate centre. Thus, interpretation of the tenurial status of such settlements very much depends on the perspectives of the individual researcher, and the themes and theories he or she wishes to pursue. Settlements like Dommelen certainly seem to have been settlements of local notables, however, and apparent choices to bury adult men at other settlements from the early to mid eighth century suggest procurement of burial spaces at larger cemeteries elsewhere, perhaps at monasteries or in association with churches at estate centres. Such choices could be a reflection of the regional networks of these local notables, as much as subordination to a higher aristocracy. The significance of these small settlements and their inhabitants is marked by their longevity. The settlement on the sand plateau at Dommelen was occupied until the eleventh to twelfth centuries, prior to a small localised settlement shift (Theuws 1991, 369–70). Coastal Flanders, like the Kempen region further inland, also seems to have possessed a landscape of hamlets and farmsteads predominantly, with a smaller number of larger nucleated settlements and estate centres at strategic points within it. This coastal region can be divided into two topographical zones: the low-lying coastal plain itself, with its clay-lands, sand islands, areas of peat and the coastal dune-belt; and secondly, a large belt of Pleistocene sand to the landward of the coastal plain. Both topographic and environmental zones have become the subject of detailed archaeological research since the early 1990s. Belief in the existence of a marine transgression (a sea-level rise) that rendered the coastal plain uninhabitable between approximately AD 300 and 800 has, until very recently, resulted in the hypothesis that early medieval settlement was focused on the Pleistocene sand, overlooking the partially inundated coastal plain. The excavations of Yann Hollevoet and Bieke Hillewaert have explored the nature of a series of settlements on this sand edge in West Flanders, between Oudenburg and Bruges, along a Roman road now

Small farming communities of West Francia, AD 600–900

known as the Zandstraat (Map 1). Evidence of groups of farmsteads sited together within hamlets has been found concentrated along the road at Zerkegem, Roksem, Ettelgem, Sint Andries ‘Molendorp’, ‘Refuge’ and ‘Kosterijstraat’ (Hamerow, Hollevoet and Vince 1994; Hollevoet and Hillewaert 2002; Hillewaert and Hollevoet 2006). All of these sites have been uncovered as a result of ‘rescue’ excavations in advance of new constructions, and as a consequence the extents of the excavated areas have been constrained to the surface areas of the plots for development. Hence, it is difficult to be certain that the settlement evidence represents hamlets as opposed to larger nucleated settlements in some cases. This is particularly the case with the settlement evidence around Sint Andries. The ‘Molendorp’ site certainly seems to represent the settlement of a single farming family, founded in the sixth or seventh century and occupied continuously into the eleventh century. The enclosures housing groups of residential and ancillary buildings at Sint Andries ‘Kosterijstraat’, however, could be part of a larger, nucleated settlement of farming families (Hillewaert and Hollevoet 2006, 135 and pl. 1). The latter settlement was also founded in the sixth century and was occupied through the Carolingian period. The ‘Kosterijstraat’ settlement is 300 m away from the present village church of Sint Andries. Hence, it may not have been the direct precursor of the later village unless the settlement shifted considerably, unlike the stable farmstead at ‘Molendorp’ (Hillewaert and Hollevoet 2006, 121). The settlements discovered along the Zandstraat are also important in a number of other respects. All seem to have been founded, on the basis of current chronologies, in the sixth or seventh century and they provide a rare indication of the density of occupation in a specific landscape, between the sixth/seventh and tenth centuries. Within the farmstead enclosures, a range of foundations for earth-fast timber buildings were uncovered, as well as preserved timber-lined wells. The earth-fast foundation styles of the sixth to seventh century, especially at ‘Kosterijstraat’, provide the closest continental parallels to those from Anglo-Saxon England in the same period, in their use of continuous foundation trenches and a single-aisle design (Hillewaert and Hollevoet 2006, 134). By the eighth to ninth century, however, those similarities had disappeared with a change of house architecture to a three-aisled design in West Flanders, founded in large paired post-holes (Hillewaert and Hollevoet 2006, 135). The affiliation with Anglo-Saxon England and the maritime world of the Channel and southern North Sea is also shown by the occurrence of ‘chaff-’ or ‘grass-tempered’ pottery, previously viewed as Anglo-Saxon

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in tradition, on these sites in West Flanders (Hamerow, Hollevoet and Vince 1994; Hillewaert and Hollevoet 2006, 136). The distribution and use of this pottery, however, can now be shown to extend not only along the eastern English and West Flemish coasts, but also into coastal regions of northern France, and probably reflects the maritime perspective and interchange of goods and ideas by the populations living along these shores (Loveluck and Tys 2006). Most of the sites along the Zandstraat were also in receipt of imported goods, resulting from integration within exchange networks running along the Channel and North Sea coasts, between the seventh and ninth centuries. Lava querns also arrived from the Eifel region of the Rhineland to most of the settlements, and glass vessel fragments have been recovered from Roksem and Sint Andries ‘Kosterijstraat’. Media to facilitate exchange are also evident in the presence of a silver coin, a sceat, of eighth-century date from Roksem (Hamerow, Hollevoet and Vince 1994, 6). In addition to the aspects of a connected lifestyle indicated by the imports, the presence of an iron sickle, a loom-weight and spindlewhorls reflect arable cultivation, husbandry of sheep and textile production, probably on a scale to support the households alone (Hillewaert 2006, 136). The recovery of a complete wooden cart-wheel from the waterlogged deposits of a well at Kosterijstraat also reflects transport of people and produce overland on the local road and track networks, as well as complex wheelwright technology in the locality (Hillewaert and Hollevoet 2006, 130–1). This general picture of relative settlement stability and continuous occupation of the Pleistocene sand by farming communities, between the sixth and eleventh to twelfth centuries AD, is also seen in the low-lying coastal plain of West Flanders. So too is an identical degree of integration within maritime exchange networks along the Channel and southern North Sea coasts, as far east as the Meuse–Scheldt–Rhine delta region. Since the mid 1990s, a combination of archaeological research, detailed geomorphology studies based on sediment cores linked to high-resolution radiocarbon dates, and landscape analysis have demonstrated that the clays, peats and sands of the coastal plain were habitable in the early medieval period, and that it was not inundated by the sea (Verhaeghe 1977; Ervynck et al. 1999; Baeteman, Scott and Van Strydonck 2002). Extensive survey by surface collection and, in certain instances, intensive superimposed surface collection, geophysical and geochemical surveys, are producing a picture of dispersed farmsteads within the raised saltmarsh, sand island (roddon) and peat fen landscape, with several larger hamlets sited on raised mounds (terps) acting as focal settlements (Tys 2003; Loveluck and Tys 2006, 148).

Small farming communities of West Francia, AD 600–900

Dries Tys (2003, 588–98) has demonstrated the existence of one such focal terp settlement at Leffinge (West Flanders). Geophysical, geochemical and grid-based surface collection, undertaken by the author and Tys, at Wilskerke–Haerdepollemswal, near Leffinge, has also revealed the traces of one of the farmsteads or a small hamlet in the landscape around the larger terp settlement. A continuous pottery sequence from the sixth/ seventh century until the sixteenth century and geophysical survey results indicate continual static occupation of the Wilskerke settlement. It became surrounded by a D-shaped enclosure and was associated with an open-field system, sometime as yet undetermined in the medieval period. The minor elements analysed during the geochemical survey, including phosphorus, magnesium, calcium, iron and others, also reflect stable use of space within the settlement’s occupational history. The chemical ‘fingerprints’ from those elements that probably reflect refuse zones, such as phosphorus and magnesium, showed a stable concentration within the habitation zone that became enclosed. If the habitation and discard zones had shifted significantly, a wider dispersion of high phosphorus concentrations might have been suspected (Loveluck and Strutt, with Clogg, in press). The range of early medieval pottery recovered from the grid-based surface collection at Wilskerke was very similar in nature to those encountered on the Pleistocene sand edge. It included chaff-/grass-tempered pottery, wheel-thrown black-burnished ware probably from northern France, Badorf ware from the Mayen region of the Rhineland, Andenne ware from the Meuse valley and the Netherlands, and Pingsdorf-type ware from the Rhineland. All but identical red-painted wares were probably produced in Flanders too, however. Very recently, opportunity has also arisen to excavate a farmstead in the coastal plain at Groenewake. The settlement deposits, such as floors and occupation surfaces, had been removed by modern deep ploughing of the coastal clay but the remaining pits and post-holes have produced indications that animal husbandry was the predominant activity, especially rearing of sheep (D. Tys pers. comm.). Currently, however, our sample of excavated settlements within the coastal plain is very small, and none of the farmstead/small hamlet settlements has yielded graves dating from the early medieval period as yet. The larger terp settlement at Leffinge may have acted as a local burial focus. There was certainly a parish church there by the mid tenth century, and graves have been excavated there dating from the eleventh to twelfth centuries (Zeebroek, Tys and Baeteman 2002, 23–5). When the population of Leffinge and its surrounding hamlets and farmsteads became textually

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visible, during the tenth century, all were free proprietors owning their small farming territories (Tys 2003, 266–73; Loveluck and Tys 2006, 157).

Expanded horizons and complexity Overall, therefore, since the early 1990s our knowledge of the communities reflected in farmsteads and small hamlets within the rural settlement hierarchies of continental northwest Europe has been transformed. There is a range of common trends reflected in different regions as well as some variations in the social relations reflected by their inhabitants. All appear to have enjoyed stable development within the same defined settlement spaces, many for the entire period spanning the sixth/seventh to tenth centuries or later. Many were also characterised by a close association of small, probably familial, burial grounds within or in close proximity to their respective farmsteads. The exceptions to this trend are provided by the farmsteads at Montours and La Chapelle-Saint-Aubert and the farmsteads and hamlets of the coastal marshes of West Flanders. The length of use of the small cemeteries associated with the majority of the farming households varied. Most date from the seventh and eighth centuries, but those at Sarry were used until the late ninth century and beyond. None of the hamlets and farmsteads considered from across West Francia possessed purpose-built oratories or burial chapels, although the inhabitants at Chessy did use an earlier Roman building as a focus for burial. In terms of everyday lifestyles, the principal activity on these settlements was agricultural production, based on arable cultivation and animal husbandry. Craft-working and metalworking were undertaken on a scale to support the agricultural households alone, unless environmental conditions promoted the production of specialist products for exchange, such as salt in coastal regions. Seasonal coastal seafaring was certainly a component of the lifestyles of the inhabitants of the tidal creek systems in the maritime margins of Flanders, Frisia and the salt-producing and exporting zone from the Charente to Loire estuaries, on the Bay of Biscay (Bruand 2008). Some variations are observable among the consumption practices of the households from different sites. These can be explained predominantly as a reflection of regional differences in agricultural traditions and different levels of opportunity linked to geographical location in some cases, but some of the differences may reflect diversity in social status between different lineages living on hamlets and farmsteads, and specialisation in certain activities. For example, the predominance of sheep husbandry and

Small farming communities of West Francia, AD 600–900

consumption in southern France, alongside consumption of foodstuffs like snails, reflects the dietary traditions of Mediterranean-focussed France. The access to glass vessels and imported pottery for families living along the coast of the Channel and North Sea and in its immediate hinterland may reflect local opportunity based on geographical location, as may the occurrence of glass vessels on the family farmstead at Lyon ‘Rue des Chartreux’. Proximity to traders and their landing points or urban bases could have accounted for their access to small quantities of imported and luxury goods. Their absence from sites located away from coastal or riverside landing places and towns need not necessarily imply any great difference in the social status of the inhabitants of the hamlets at places such as Chessy and Sarry, where weapons and luxuries were absent. Possession of weapons and access to imported luxuries may have been an indication of status, however, in that the right to bear arms may have been a prerogative of free lineages, and as such those who possessed their land as allods may also have had greater freedom of movement to dispose of surpluses and procure luxuries through exchange. It is difficult to be certain, therefore, whether access to luxuries in coastal zones is a reflection merely of geographical location, or status as free proprietors, or a combination of both. Similarly, the evidence of integration within long-distance exchange links on the part of the individual interred in grave 1 at Dommelen might also reflect a free status. Unfortunately, however, our knowledge of the rights and social relations of tenanted families subordinate to estate centres is non-existent. Hence, all comparisons work from unknowns. Nevertheless, consumption patterns from other forms of evidence, namely biological remains, may help in the future in differentiating the above social groups; or at very least they may help define archaeologically further hierarchical relations within the social groups who lived on the smaller but potentially most numerous elements of the settlement hierarchy. The animal-consumption practices on the settlement at Lyon ‘Rue Pierre Audry’ may be one such instance where differentiation of social rank is expressed. In a region where the principal domesticate consumed was sheep, a greater proportion of cattle were consumed on this site and they were under 30 months when slaughtered, so they had not been used for traction for any length of time. The occupants of this settlement also hunted wild birds, hare, red deer and wild boar. In their animalconsumption practices they shared traits in common with those on aristocratic settlements (see Chapter 7). Yet, unlike the latter, no evidence of the consumption of luxury artefacts was present at ‘Rue Pierre Audry’,

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nor were there indications of the support of artisans, nor any military role, nor the ability to move around the landscape at speed on horseback. At present, the complexities and nuances of social relations becoming evident on the growing number of excavated smaller farming communities are tantalising, and hint at the much more significant roles of the free peasantries of Francia and neighbouring regions of Continental Europe, observed by some historians (Davies 1988; Wickham 1992; Innes 2000). Yet it is currently difficult to know the limits of inference from the comparatively small body of archaeological evidence. Obtaining highquality archaeological signatures of lifestyles on farmsteads and hamlets through excavation is very costly, and as objects of research funding they can appear ‘unglamorous’ compared to elite sites. One is also faced with the question of how many need to be excavated in order for a representative picture to emerge, and for conclusions to be valid. The same representativity questions are also faced for the more regularly investigated larger settlements and elite centres. We currently have a larger corpus of the latter and this may currently skew our interpretation of the nature of early medieval rural societies and the role, implementation and impact of different levels of leadership within their landscapes.

4 Larger farming communities, specialist producers

and collectors in West Francia, AD 600–900

Nucleated settlements and polyfocal settlement clusters Unlike the small rural settlement foci, larger settlement agglomerations comprising housing, storage and activity zones for more than several households have been the target of more extensive and detailed study, and hence wider consideration in published literature. Some of these agglomerations of multiple family groups were established well before the seventh century and continued to be occupied into the eighth and ninth centuries, such as Mondeville (Calvados) and Villiers-le-Bâcle (Essonne) (Lorren and Périn 1997, 104–7). A greater number of the settlements, however, would appear to have been founded during the course of the sixth and seventh centuries AD, and most were occupied into the tenth or eleventh centuries. There appear to be particular regional concentrations of these larger rural settlements, especially in northern France, but examples also occur in parts of southern France too. It is difficult to be totally certain, however, whether the apparent concentration of larger rural settlements in northeast France is a picture of past reality, or is to some extent a function of bias due to concentration of excavations in advance of economic development in that region. This is particularly true of the concentration of sites in the Paris basin. Fortunately, a considerable corpus of information is being gathered on the morphology and spatial organisation of these settlements as a consequence of the removal of topsoil on a large scale. Topsoiled areas of between 5 and 15 hectares are not unusual, and a significant number range between 15 and 20 hectares. The surface areas from which topsoil is removed, however, do not often equate to the areas of settlements actually subjected to detailed excavation and recording. For example, at Château Gaillard, 20 hectares were opened during the removal of the topsoil, and 10 were subsequently excavated (Vicherd et al. 2001, 177). Such sampling undoubtedly provides a good picture of spatial layouts of settlements but the zones sampled by detailed excavation are often no larger than those on many Anglo-Saxon rural settlements, where smaller surface areas have generally been opened but a greater proportion of their remains have

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been excavated and recorded in detail, including assessments of deposit formation and their representativity for interpretation. Extensively excavated examples of these larger settlement agglomerations span the region from Normandy across to Picardy, in northern France (Map 1). They include Grentheville (Calvados) (Hanusse 1999); ‘Portejoie’, Tournedos-sur-Seine (Eure) (Carré and Guillon 1995; Carré 1996); Villiers-le-Sec ‘La Place de la Ville’ (Val d’Oise) (Cuisenier and Guadagnin 1988; Gentili 2010); Bussy-Saint-Georges ‘Les Dix-huit Arpents’ (Seine-et-Marne) (Buchez 1995); Serris ‘Les Ruelles’ (Seine-etMarne) (Foucray and Gentili 1995; Gentili 2010); Vert-Saint-Denis ‘Les Fourneaux’ (Seine-et-Marne) (Pecqueur 2003, 18); Saleux ‘Les Coutures’ (Somme) (Catteddu 1997, 2003) and Vitry-en-Artois and Lauwin-Planque (both Pas-de-Calais) (Louis 2004c, 495–6). The best exemplar to date from southern France has been uncovered in the 10-hectare excavations at Château Gaillard ‘Le Recourbe’ (Vicherd et al. 2001). Examples from Flanders and the Netherlands, west of the Rhine, are rarer. However, the settlement discussed earlier at Sint Andries ‘Kosterijstraat’ (West Flanders) could represent one of these larger nucleations, and Geldrop and Dommelen in their expanded phases are not much smaller than some of the French sites. The settlements at Valkenburg De Woerd (Holland), and possibly Rijnsburg (Holland) and Leiderdorp (Holland), in the Rhine delta, also illustrate their presence at the northeast limits of Western Francia (Bult and Hallewas 1990, 80–7; Heidinga 1997). All of the settlements mentioned above were founded in the sixth and seventh centuries, and most in the latter century. None of them had significant, if any, occupation phases dated to the fifth century. In considering the evidence from Nord and Pas-de-Calais, Étienne Louis has noted a distinct discordance or disjuncture in settlement location, between significant Gallo-Roman settlements (particularly villas) and the location of nucleated settlements of the sixth to tenth/eleventh centuries (Louis 2004c, 493). A similar rupture in the location of most important settlements in the rural hierarchy of the sixth to tenth centuries is seen across France, north of the River Loire, and also in some cases south of the river, as at Château Gaillard ‘Le Recourbe’. The previously discussed hamlets at Geldrop, Dommelen and the larger settlement at Valkenburg, discussed below, were also newly founded during the seventh century, and had no relationship to a preceding settlement of the Roman period. In some cases in northern France and West Flanders, however, there was a physical relationship in settlement location, between Roman and early medieval successors but continuity of occupation is sometimes hard to prove.

Larger farming communities in West Francia, AD 600–900

For example, at Bussy-Saint-Georges ‘Les Dix-huit Arpents’, the settlement was located within the settlement space of a Roman villa during the sixth and seventh centuries, prior to expanding along a trackway in the eighth century. The settlement at Villiers-le-Sec was located on the site of a small, roadside vicus, and the settlement at Sint Andries ‘Kosterijstraat’ cut and overlay earlier Roman settlement evidence, thought to have been abandoned during the third century (Guadagnin 1988, 118–19; Buchez 1995; Hillewaert and Hollevoet 2006, 126; Zadora-Rio 2010, 86). There is, in fact, a distinct contrast between many of the larger rural settlements founded between the sixth and seventh centuries on the one hand, and farmsteads and small hamlets on the other. A greater proportion of the smaller settlements were either occupied continuously from the fifth century into the tenth or eleventh centuries, as at Servon, which represented small-scale continued occupation on a former Roman villa site; or their location was more greatly influenced by earlier Roman settlements of a similar small type, as was the case with the farmstead at Chessy (Gentili and Hourlier 1995; Bonin 1999; Zadora-Rio 2010, 84).

Settlement morphologies In terms of morphology, the larger settlement agglomerations can be designated ‘nucleated settlements’ in a number of respects. Use of space on these sites seems to have been more regulated by enclosures bounding the living space of individual groups within the settlement; and planning is evident in some cases with the buildings of multiple family groups sited in reference to them. For example, definition of space within multiple enclosures is clearly seen at Tournedos ‘Portejoie’ (Carré 1988, 47; Carré and Guillon 1995, 149); Vert-Saint-Denis ‘Les Fourneaux’ (Pecqueur 2003, 18) and Saleux ‘Les Coutures’ (Catteddu 2003, 21). At the latter site, the alignment of the enclosures was influenced by an existing Roman field system (Catteddu 2003, 20–1). Enclosed settlement units were also located either side of trackways at Tournedos ‘Portejoie’ and Vitry-enArtois (Carré 1988, 59; Louis 2004c, 495). At Vitry, the settlement appears to have been densely occupied, with up to a dozen narrow plots at right angles to the trackway. Each plot contained a residential timber building of modest size and sunken-featured buildings. More loosely organised building clusters (with some signs of enclosure) were also aligned either side of a trackway at Bussy-Saint-Georges ‘Les Dix-huit Arpents’, from the eighth century (Buchez 1995). In contrast, the groups

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of farming families at Lauwin-Planque and Château Gaillard ‘Le Recourbe’ were more loosely organised in broader settlement zones, sometimes sited with reference to actual or presumed burial grounds (Louis 2004, 495–6; Vicherd et al. 2001, 184–8); and at Serris ‘Les Ruelles’ and Villiers-le-Sec with reference to trackway networks (Foucray and Gentili 1998, 199; Gentili 2010, 122–5). At Serris there was also a distinct aristocratic settlement zone, separate from the other building clusters (see Chapter 7). It is possible that there may also have been a distinct elite settlement zone at Vitry, as it was documented as an estate centre in AD 575, when the Merovingian king, Sigebert, was assassinated there but none has yet been found (Louis 2004c, 495). Within the individual farmstead units themselves, the use of space often varied through time, with periodic reconstruction of residential buildings on the same or different plots within the defined farmstead space, and multiple replacements of ancillary buildings, whether granaries, sunken-featured buildings (Grubenhäuser), ovens or wells. Nevertheless, overall, the defined spaces of the different groups within these settlements remained largely stable between the sixth/seventh century and the late tenth or early eleventh century, in most cases (see Figures 2 and 3 below). Distinct activity zones that may have been communal have also been identified, in relation to cooking and certain craft-working practices. For example, distinct zones of ovens have been identified on the settlement periphery at Villiers-le-Sec, and textile manufacturing zones have been suggested to the west of the cemetery at Saleux ‘Les Coutures’ (Catteddu 2003, 21), and in a particular cluster of sunkenfeatured buildings at Villiers-le-Sec (Zadora-Rio 2010, 88). At Saleux, a watermill also seems to have been present at the eastern extremity of the settlement, indicated by mill-leat feeder channels from the River Selle, immediately to its east (Figure 2). Thus, at Saleux differentiation of functional zones also extended to crop processing (Catteddu 1997, 143–4, 2003, 21–2). This concentration of activity zones based on function may be a reflection of a degree of communal organisation beyond the level of individual households. The location of activities involving combustion in specific locations, such as the cooking areas, also makes sense from the perspective of minimising fire risk within larger settlement agglomerations. Definition of different functional zones is mirrored in England on several of the larger Anglo-Saxon settlements, in phases dating from the seventh to tenth centuries, ranging from West Heslerton, to Flixborough and Wicken Bonhunt (Essex) (Wade 1980; Powlesland 1997, 2000; Loveluck 2007a).

Larger farming communities in West Francia, AD 600–900

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Figure 2 Plan of the settlement at Saleux ‘Les Coutures’ (Somme)

Churches and spaces for the dead Another distinctive feature of these nucleated settlements was the organisation of burial spaces for the dead and the construction of shrines and churches in association with burial groups. In many cases, once a burial church had been constructed the church and the external area around it then became the principal communal burial focus, and such central cemeteries may also have become the burial grounds for members of some families living on hamlets and farmsteads in their locality, during the

r Fo

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course of the eighth and ninth centuries. Nevertheless, in many cases small burial groups continued to be the chosen burial locations for some, even on larger nucleated settlements, and even when a church and larger cemetery focus was present. Hence, diversity of burial location remained a feature between the seventh and later ninth centuries, even after estate, communal or parish churches had been established. The purpose-built churches started to be constructed on these nucleated settlements during the seventh century, both on sites occupied since the sixth century and newly founded settlements. For example, at BussySaint-Georges ‘Les Dix-huit Arpents’ a small cemetery was established approximately 40 m west of the main settlement focus, along a north– south-aligned trackway. There were thirty-five graves within the cemetery, aligned both east–west and north–south. To its southwest, a small twoaisled building was located (smaller than the residential buildings of the settlement), constructed on an east–west axis (Buchez 1995, 111). A sole grave was interred within the building, on a north–south alignment. All the other graves were located outside, to the northeast of the assumed mortuary or funerary church, with the exception of a single east–west-aligned grave to its south. It is unclear, therefore, whether the church was built after the foundation of the cemetery or with reference only to the individual buried inside it. Isolated burials were also interred within the habitation areas at Bussy-Saint-Georges, and a circular prehistoric barrow was also used as a burial focus, approximately 50 m to the east of the main settlement on the trackway (Pecqueur 2003, 8). At Tournedos ‘Portejoie’, the sequence of development of mortuary space and its associated features is clearer. During the mid seventh century, between twenty-two and twenty-seven graves, dated on the basis of grave-goods, were interred at the northern limit of the settlement, on the east side of a north– south trackway. To the south, ditched plots with clusters of residential buildings, storage structures, sunken-featured buildings and timber-framed wells existed, either side of the trackway, extending for 300 m (Carré 1988, 47 and 59). The graves were placed between two focal features: a Neolithic long barrow to the northeast and a shrine to the southwest. All the graves were aligned on an east–west axis. Sometime during the eighth century, a small rectangular building of 7 m by 5.5 m was constructed on an east–west alignment, with paired post-holes suggesting a roof supported on tie-beams. The post-holes cut earlier graves and the whole building was possibly constructed around one north–south grave, placed in a plaster sarcophagus. Subsequently, further east–west-aligned inhumations were sited principally to the west of the mortuary church, and interments continued into the early

Larger farming communities in West Francia, AD 600–900

tenth century, on the basis of coin-dated graves. A masonry building with an apsidal end was also constructed immediately to the east of the post-hole building, either as a replacement or an extension of the nave, sometime in the first third of the ninth century (Carré 1996, 156–9). Further plots of household building clusters also developed to the north of the church and cemetery, between the seventh and tenth centuries, and the church remained a burial focus until the fourteenth century, by which time 1,665 inhumations had been interred (Carré 1996, 156). At Saleux ‘Les Coutures’ another variation on the development sequence of cemetery and church is manifested (Figure 2). In this case, a cemetery was clearly established to the west of the initial habitation zone around a ‘founder-grave’, buried in a sarcophagus within a small, wooden mortuary structure. The founder-grave was dated on the basis of dress accessories to the seventh century, and the earliest graves respect its orientation. A small church, in the form of a rectangular building of post-hole foundations (6.5 m by 4.8 m), was raised around the earlier mortuary structure, probably during the eighth century, and the church and its environs formed the focus for unfurnished burials. During the course of the eighth and ninth centuries the cemetery grew, until burial space was managed by the definition of a graveyard enclosure sometime in the ninth century. A new larger church was constructed on chalk-sill foundations in the tenth or eleventh century. By the time the settlement and cemetery seem to have been abandoned, sometime in the eleventh century, more than 1,500 individuals had been buried (Catteddu 2003, 21–2). At Saleux ‘Les Coutures’ the evolution of the settlement into a nucleated focus, between the seventh and ninth centuries, reflected the reorganisation and growth of the settlement around the nodal points of church and communal cemetery, and watermill. Occupied enclosures developed to the north, south and west of the church, making it the principal focus of the settlement (Figure 2). The development of the church and cemetery at Saleux ‘Les Coutures’ at the heart of settlement and communal space contrasts with the picture at Bussy-Saint-Georges, where the church remained peripheral in terms of location. At Tournedos ‘Portejoie’, however, the growth in the importance of large communal cemeteries and their churches is reflected too. The church and cemetery, in this case located at the northern pole of the settlement, continued to act as a communal burial ground several centuries after its associated settlement had been abandoned, during the late tenth century (Carré and Guillon 1995, 146–7). Further diversity in trends is evident at Serris ‘Les Ruelles’, where a church built on a stone foundation was constructed during the late seventh century (12 m by 7.5 m in size), at

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the same date and exhibiting the same architectural traits as an aristocratic settlement focus some 300 m to its south (see Chapter 7). It was constructed on an approximate north–south alignment, with its entrance in the south, facing the aristocratic settlement focus, and finds of window glass suggest that it possessed some glazed windows. No graves were placed within the church, and the only clues of any activities that occurred within it are provided by fragments of glass lamps, recovered from fills of graves placed near to the building. The fate of the church at Serris seems to have mirrored the aristocratic focus. The latter was occupied from the late seventh to mid ninth century, and the church too was demolished, with the space subsequently used for graves (Gentili 2010). In total, 956 individuals were buried at Serris between the late seventh and late tenth centuries (Foucray and Gentili 1998, 198–200). The diversity and complexity of the sequences of cemetery and church development on nucleated settlements defy simple identification of the range of social actors that influenced them. The settlements at BussySaint-Georges, Tournedos ‘Portejoie’ and Saleux ‘Les Coutures’ all possessed small seventh- to eighth-century wooden churches built around single special graves: two of them, at Bussy-Saint-Georges and ‘Portejoie’, were buried on north–south alignments. The churches and their special burials at the latter two sites, however, were not ‘founder’ burials or structures, unlike the situation at Saleux, where the entire cemetery and the first church developed around a single founder-grave. A similar situation to that at Saleux can be suggested at Valkenburg, in the Rhine delta, where a wooden church was constructed over and around a late seventh-century grave of a man, furnished with weapons. Also as at Saleux, a stone or stone-founded church also replaced the wooden church at Valkenburg, the latter occurrence taking place in the ninth century (Bult and Hallewas 1990, 86). The treatment of the special graves placed within the churches at all the above sites demonstrates the signalling of social differentiation within these nucleated settlements. The Saleux and Valkenburg examples may reflect the veneration of ‘founders’ of the respective settlements, either as heads of free-proprietor lineages or members of emerging local aristocracies. The construction of the churches over them at both sites could reflect the subsequent creation of communal religious foci or they might, instead, reflect the patronage of a leading family descended from the founder within each community that had consolidated its position through the eighth century. Thus, construction of a church over the

Larger farming communities in West Francia, AD 600–900

founder ancestor emphasised the leading role of a particular family, in that the ‘theatre’ for receipt of Christian sacraments was constructed through its largesse. Neither at Saleux nor at Valkenburg, however, is there corresponding social differentiation evident among the adjacent habitation zones. In this sense, they provide a stark contrast to estate centres focussed on consumption. It is possible that such a separate consuming focus existed at Saleux but it was not encountered in the 4-hectare excavation area. Overall, the mortuary practices and the shrines and churches associated with them indicate the complexity of the internal and local social dynamics associated with these rural settlements. Whereas wealthy free-proprietor and local aristocratic burial foci seem to have acted as catalysts for the development of some cemeteries and churches, the pattern of development at Bussy-Saint-Georges and Tournedos ‘Portejoie’ suggests increased expression of differential social rank within existing settlement communities, through the seventh and eighth centuries. No paramount founding family was evident when the latter cemeteries were created during the sixth and seventh centuries respectively. In other cases, as at Villiers-le-Sec, Vert-Saint-Denis and Lauwin-Planque, churches were never encountered within the large excavated areas opened. At Villiers-le-Sec there was a focal cemetery, the northern and southern peripheries of which were excavated (Figure 3). The sixty graves recovered dated from the late sixth or early seventh century until the later tenth century (Cuisenier and Guadagnin 1988, 166–9). It is possible that the apparent absence of a church is a function of the inability to excavate in the central zone of the cemetery area. There were also, however, smaller groups of graves placed in association with different clusters of buildings, seemingly reflecting burial grounds for individual family households (Cuisenier and Guadagnin 1988, 140–1; Pecqueur 2003, 9). At Vert-Saint-Denis, a small cemetery was located on the northwest edge of the settlement. Several graves were also placed in the southern and northern ditches of one of the occupied enclosures, and isolated graves occurred throughout (Pecqueur 2003, 18). Within the 7,500-square-metre area of the Lauwin-Planque excavations, the settlement developed eastwards between the sixth and tenth centuries, and a small cemetery of forty individuals, dating from the ninth and tenth centuries, was located on the eastern side of the site. Again, however, isolated burials occurred throughout the settlement area. It is suggested that the settlement continued to develop eastwards towards the site of the parish church, 150 m away, whose existence is documented from AD 975 (Louis 2004c, 496).

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Figure 3 Plan of the settlement at Villiers-le-Sec (Val d’Oise)

Production, consumption and social networks Apart from the social differentiation seen within aspects of burial practices for a small number of inhabitants of nucleated settlements, there is very little in the artefact and refuse-discard practices of the living that shows any distinction in the status or roles of their populations, in most cases. The same is true of most aspects in the lifestyles of production and consumption but, more rarely, it is possible to distinguish differences relating to specialist manufacturing and integration within social networks for certain communities.

Larger farming communities in West Francia, AD 600–900

To a certain extent, it is possible to define the resources that the populations of these settlements consumed from various habitats in their contemporary environments in northeast France. At Saleux, the pollen evidence from the waterlogged part of the site, adjacent to the River Selle, indicated that the surrounding landscape was one of open pasture and cereal cultivation, with intermittent woodland and a wetland zone along the river. The remains of a range of cereals and vegetables have been recovered, including wheat, rye, barley, oats, pulses and locally available wild fruits (Catteddu 1997, 144–5, 2003, 20–2). The same range of cereals and wild fruits was exploited at Leiderdorp, in the Rhine delta region of the Netherlands: namely, rye, barley, oats and wheat, and blackberry, elderberry, sloe, possibly medlars, and also hazelnuts (Bult and Hallewas 1990, 87). Indications of the kinds of environmental zones exploited at Villiers-le-Sec are provided by faunal remains. The bones of hare, deer, wild boar and fox were recovered, and bird bones of pigeon, partridge, crane and crow suggest areas of open, cultivated landscape and woodland in the vicinity of the settlement, as well as riverside species (Yvinec 1988; Clavel and Yvinec 2010, 80). Limited artefact evidence in the form of an iron spade sheath at Villiers-le-Sec also reflects cereal or horticulture (Fassbinder 1999, 259). On other nucleated settlements, surviving iron tools also reflect an arable focus, alongside the animal husbandry regimes of mixed farming economies, illustrated by the iron ploughshare, scythe blade and two sickle blades from Tournedos ‘Portejoie’ (Carré 1988, 49). The recovery of fish bones was minimal, despite sieving. The proportion of wild species compared with domesticated animals among the bone assemblage was very small at Villiers-le-Sec, ranging from 1% to 2%, between the different building clusters of households (Yvinec 1988, 226; Clavel and Yvinec 2010, 80). A similar, extremely limited occurrence of wild mammals and birds was also seen at Saleux but bones of deer, wolf and fox were recovered (Catteddu 2003, 22). The recovery of fox in two cases, and wolf in one instance, suggests that these species were probably hunted as vermin or for their fur. However, the small numbers of hare, deer, wild boar and cranes at Villiers-le-Sec and deer at Saleux do appear to represent dietary supplement (Clavel and Yvinec 2010, 80), and they could reflect hunting for social display as well as necessity by elements of their internally ranked communities, given the indications of a possible leading family at Saleux from the seventh century onwards. The development of a similar leading family may be reflected by the presence of a large, principal residential building at Villiers-le-Sec during the tenth century (Gentili and Valais 2007; Zadora-Rio 2010, 92).

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Yvinec and others have noted that this picture of very limited exploitation of wild animal resources is repeated on other hamlets and nucleated settlements across northern France, as opposed to what they term ‘seigneurial’ rural centres and ‘urban’ sites, where wild game often occurs at between 5% and 10% of overall bone assemblages (Yvinec 1988, 227; Lepetz, Méniel and Yvinec 1995, 178–9; see Chapter 7). A very similar pattern of exploitation of wild game is also seen in the western Netherlands. Only around 1% of animals consumed at Rijnsburg and Valkenburg were wild species – boar, deer and fowl – and it is likely that much of the evidence for deer reflects importation of antler for craftworking (Bult and Hallewas 1990, 87). Yvinec has speculated that the minimal dietary supplement provided by wild mammals and birds does not reflect availability or a lack of ability to catch these animals. Instead he sees this pattern as a reflection of the reservation of the right to exploit these resources by the privileged in society, already by the seventh to eighth centuries (Yvinec 1988, 227; Clavel and Yvinec 2010, 80). However, given the tendency of zooarchaeologists to categorize sites into finite classifications for purposes of analysis into consumer/producer or elite/non-elite sites, it is important to note that the social groups comprising the privileged may have been much broader than they often allow. People at Villiers-le-Sec, Saleux and Valkenburg had access to deer, boar and wildfowl, as did those at the more demonstrable estate centres discussed in Chapter 7. Not all are likely to have represented a single elite but rather a broader spectrum of society that can perhaps be described as the ‘community of the free’, from aristocrats to local notables and perhaps smaller free landholders too. Among the remains of the main domesticated animals, a number of trends are observable. At Villiers-le-Sec, within the three phases of occupation from the excavations of the 1980s (seventh to eighth, eighth to tenth, and tenth to eleventh centuries respectively), there was a marked increase in the consumption of cattle through time (from 36% of bone fragments to 43.6%), commensurate with a similar decrease in the consumption of pigs (from 32.2% to 20.3%). Consumption of sheep remained stable throughout the occupation sequence at around 22%. The occurrence of horse rose from 5.6% to 10.5% of fragments recovered between the seventh and eleventh centuries (Yvinec 1988, 230). Two-thirds of all the cattle consumed were killed at 10 years of age or older, presumably after use for traction and milk production. The other third were killed at a younger age for their meat, predominantly between 15 and 18 months. Pigs were kept mainly for their meat, with an estimated ratio of one-third females to two-thirds males.

Larger farming communities in West Francia, AD 600–900

Most were killed at the optimum point for meat quality, at between 12 and 18 months, and 75% were killed by 2 years of age. Amongst the sheep (and possibly goats too), 45% were not killed until between 2 and 6 years old, indicating husbandry primarily for their wool. There were also two younger killing peaks, however, between 6 and 8 months, and 1 and 2 years respectively, suggesting husbandry for meat too (Yvinec 1988, 231–3). Similar patterns of maturity at death among cattle and sheep are also suggested at Saleux ‘Les Coutures’, where cattle also predominate as the main domesticate consumed, followed by sheep (Catteddu 1997, 2003). In recent general studies, this trend for the rise in cattle as the main domesticate is reflected across France, north of the Loire, overturning the sixth- and seventh-century dominance of pigs (Clavel and Yvinec 2010, 77). This reflects not only a rise in the dominance of arable agriculture but also greater consumption of cattle for meat. Pigs, nevertheless, remained a preferred meat of choice, especially higher up the social hierarchy. At Saleux, pigs are very poorly represented and the excavator has suggested that they could have been exported for sale, via the navigable Selle, to nearby Amiens (Catteddu 2003, 22). The lack of pigs could also reflect their role as a form of taxation-in-kind, rendered for consumption at higher-order settlements, during the Carolingian period (Ervynck 1992, 154–5; Doll 1999, 445–6). Horses were also killed at Villiers-le-Sec and Saleux, mainly as old animals, presumably after having been used for transport or traction purposes. Notably, however, horse bones also have butchery marks at both sites, and although some could relate to processing of the hides and extraction of bones for craft-working, the young cull age for some suggests undoubted and regular consumption for their meat too (Yvinec 1988, 231; Catteddu 2003, 22). The animal-husbandry patterns from these inland regions of northeast France show some similarities and differences with those seen in the coastal area of the Rhine delta, at Valkenburg. Cattle predominated, as at Villiers-le-Sec and Saleux. Yet, unlike the French sites, their percentage representation dropped slightly through the Merovingian and Carolingian periods, from 69% to 57% of the main domesticated livestock species; and the percentage of sheep rose slightly through time, from 18% to 25%; pigs represented around 11% of the main domesticates (Bult and Hallewas 1990, 87). This pattern contrasts with those from coastal settlements north and east of the Rhine, in North Holland, where the representation of sheep was much higher (Bult and Hallewas 1990, 87). Marine and riverine fish and shellfish were also consistent features of the diets of the settlements in the Rhine mouths zone of Frisia, at Valkenburg, Rijnsburg and Leiderdorp,

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and bone netting-needles have been found at Valkenburg. A notable freshwater species at Valkenburg and Rijnsburg is sturgeon, usually associated with aristocratic centres of consumption further west in Francia, such as Serris and Hamage (Gentili and Valais 2007; Clavel and Yvinec 2010, 80). At present, it is difficult to be certain of the apparent contrast the Frisian settlements provide in relation to the inland settlements of the Île-deFrance and Picardy. The fish-bone data from Saleux is not yet available for discussion but the excavator has noted that the riverbank location of the settlement would have given abundant access to freshwater fish. Indeed, the channel that could represent the leat of a watermill could also have possessed fish traps (Catteddu 2003, 21–2). At Villiers-le-Sec, fish formed a much smaller component of the diet but survival conditions could also have influenced this apparently small contribution. The survival of small bird bones would, however, suggest that fish may not have contributed greatly to the diet of the households at Villiers-le-Sec, bearing in mind its location at the crossroads of overland routeways, instead of a situation close to a river (Yvinec 1988, 226–7). Material indications of craft activities and ironworking were encountered at Villiers-le-Sec, Saleux and other settlements. The quantity, range and quality of the evidence, however, often has a direct correlation with the presence, survival and size of refuse deposits. This makes assessment of the scale of production difficult, since interpretation could be based on refuse survival rather than past reality. Nevertheless, at Villiers-le-Sec and Saleux the abundant refuse deposits, usually from pits and demolished sunkenfeatured buildings, have provided comprehensive information. At Saleux, various stages of textile production are evident: fibre processing is reflected by carding combs, spinning, in the form of spindle-whorls, loom-weights and pin-beaters from weaving, and imported glass smoothers or slickstones for smoothing the woven textiles. The excavator has also suggested that several of the sunken-featured buildings also have extra cavities cut into their sunken floors, marking the location of vertical looms within these buildings (Catteddu 2003, 21). Detritus from some bone- and antlerworking, and slag from iron-smithing was also encountered. Again, a similar range was seen at Villiers-le-Sec, with pin-beaters and a glass smoother reflecting weaving, tools reflecting woodworking, and slag, ironworking (Fassbinder 1999, 258–9). At Valkenburg, a greater focus on bone- and antler-working was evident, supported by importation of antler itself, rather than whole deer carcases (Bult and Hallewas 1990, 87). Indications of non-ferrous metalworking are much rarer and, when found, the scale of production seems to have been small. The same trend is

Larger farming communities in West Francia, AD 600–900

encountered in England but more fragments of crucibles and moulds are being discovered with increased sieving of soil samples with narrower sieve apertures, and it is possible that the relative absence reflects sieving biases. The households on the settlements of Villiers-le-Sec, Saleux ‘Les Coutures’ and the vast majority of other nucleated settlements seem to have undertaken craft production to support the needs of everyday life, on settlements primarily geared to agricultural production. At most, they produced enough to provide certain manufactured products as potential estate renders-in-kind. They were integrated within regional networks to different extents, probably depending on proximity to routes of communication and tenurial links. For example, Villiers-le-Sec was situated 24 km north of Paris, sited at a crossroads of two antique routeways, one a road from Amiens to Paris, going via Saint-Denis, and the other linking Meaux to Beauvais (Cuisenier and Guadagnin 1988, 142). Eighth- and ninthcentury silver coinage indicates that its inhabitants were integrated within exchange networks with Paris and the Channel–North Sea exchange zone, via the Seine valley, and probably Rouen. The eighth-century coin was a silver sceat, probably struck in England during the 720s; and the ninthcentury coin was a denier of Charles the Bald, minted between 864 and 875 at the monastery of Saint-Denis (Fassbinder 1999, 261; Cuisenier and Guadagnin 1988, 151). The settlement also formed part of the estate of Villare, documented as owned by Saint-Denis from the ninth century (Cuisenier and Guadagnin 1988, 144; Gentili 2010, 124). Hence, use of coinage struck there may reflect direct linkage with the landowning authority, and possibly partial commutation of estate render payments into coin through the course of the eighth and ninth centuries. If this was the case, then some market transactions to convert agricultural products into coin would have been necessary. The existence of such transactions or gifts from the landowner to client tenants may also be reflected in the occurrence of a conical glass lamp from the settlement, dating from the eighth to ninth century (Fassbinder 1999, 261). There is also evidence of long-distance and high-speed mobility on the part of at least an element of the population, demonstrated by the presence of a spur for horse-riding, dated to the end of the seventh century (Fassbinder 1999, 260). In contrast to the farming settlements, however, there are rare cases where hamlets-cum-nucleated settlements show signs that their residents may have supported themselves more from specialist artisan activity than from farming, especially in regard to metalworking. Two main examples are known and in process of analysis and publication, at Vert-Saint-Denis ‘Les Fourneaux’ and Develier-Courtételle (Jura), western Switzerland

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(Maps 1 and 4). These two settlements also demonstrate that some communities specialised in particular stages of metal production and fabrication. At the site of ‘Les Fourneaux’, a mine and ore-processing site and the remains of its attendant hamlet were excavated in 1994. It was occupied between the eighth and eleventh centuries, reaching a maximum extent of 3 hectares in the ninth and tenth centuries. A total of 2,500 iron-ore extraction pits were dug out by the community, covering an area of 2 hectares. On the basis of slag distributions, there were also around seven ore roasting and smelting workshops, which produced eighty hearths. The possibly seasonal role of the community seems to have been to mine and produce smelted iron but no smithing of iron into artefacts is evident. The excavator, Isabelle Daveau, has interpreted the settlement as evidence of a small iron-producing community, probably linked to an estate, in which the iron was smithed into finished artefacts on its other settlement elements (Daveau 2009). At Develier-Courtételle, a nucleated settlement of six household clusters of buildings yielded evidence for iron-smelting and -smithing in all areas, comprising 3 to 4 tonnes of slag and hammerscale (tiny iron fragments released when hammering iron on an anvil). Non-ferrous metalworking was also attested by crucible fragments and traces of waste copper alloy from casting (Federici-Schenardi and Fellner 1997, 125–8). The other main attribute of this sixth- to ninth-century settlement was that the household plots contained structures predominantly concerned with storage of crops and livestock (Federici-Schenardi and Fellner 1997, 125). It is possible that the settlement reflects a community of specialist metalworkers whose inhabitants provided their skills in exchange for agricultural produce and livestock, whether within the context of a wider estate network, independent exchange transactions, or both. Other documented settlements of specialist artisans from the eighth to ninth century, such as settlements of ironworkers in the Perche region of Normandy, may have been sustained in a similar fashion, as may the potters of the Vorgebirge region of the Rhineland, near Cologne (Hodges 2000, 97; Verhulst 2002, 77). As fulltime or seasonal craft specialists, their nutritional and other material needs are likely to have been supported to a significant degree by commodities derived from beyond their settlements. The existence of communities of craft specialists, even if production was seasonal, presupposes networks of exchange between settlements, at least at local and regional levels, and often covering long distances. Nearly all of the nucleated settlements discussed above yielded products acquired from distant regions. The character of imported goods recovered and the

Larger farming communities in West Francia, AD 600–900

distances they had travelled depended partly on proximity to arterial communications routes, such as distance from coastal waterways and navigable river systems. However, the character of individual communities, the place of their inhabitants within the social hierarchy and their functional roles also seem to have influenced access to imported commodities. The households of the apparent metalworking community at DevelierCourtételle had access to pottery imported from the middle Rhine region or Alsace, as well as glass drinking vessels, presumably derived via exchange routes along the Rivers Saône and Rhône, and very possibly exchanged for iron objects or ironworking services (Federici-Schenardi and Fellner 1997, 128). A similar advantageous geographical position, and specialist husbandry and commodity production, relating to sheeprearing, salt and certain manufactured products, may also account for the presence of imported glass vessels, pottery and coinage on settlements of no great apparent status in coastal areas, along the Channel and southern North Sea, in coastal Flanders and Frisia (Heidinga 1997, 31–2; Lebecq 1997, 75–7; Bazelmans et al. 2004, 22–4; Loveluck and Tys 2006, 146–8). Proximity to principal communications routes, in terms of the Rhône– Saône corridor and the North Sea and Channel, as well as specialist economic roles could, therefore, account for a portable wealth ‘signature’ beyond the reality of social status, and beyond what landed elites might have expected or deemed appropriate, especially for tied tenants (see Chapter 9). Thus, through their need to engage in extensive exchange transactions to survive, the material signatures provided by portable wealth may not have reflected the social status of specialists but, instead, the social relations by which they gained access to resources not available to them, as a consequence of their specialist roles and constraints of limited landholding or environmental situation.

Nucleated settlements: estate centres, parochial centres and foci for resource collection and redistribution Identifying a rural estate centre archaeologically, whether royal, monastic or aristocratic, has been a matter of much debate, and has to a large extent depended on the individual expectations and preconceptions of archaeologists and historians. Some have expected an estate centre to comprise a distinct settlement type or a distinctive settlement zone, separate from any nearby nucleated settlements, hamlets or farmsteads (Callebaut 1994; Bonin 1999, 42; Gentili and Valais 2007). Others have suggested that some

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nucleated settlements were estate centres, controlled by local aristocrats, where differentiation of estate controller from other resident households was reflected in burial practice and potential control of religious foci, specialist production and exchange, as suggested for Valkenburg (Bazelmans et al. 2004, 22). The existence of textual evidence for estates in specific locations has also encouraged some archaeologists to speculate whether relatively small rural hamlets were estate centres, as at Sarry (Jesset 2004, 91–3). In other cases, the documented existence of an estate has led to more cautious interpretation of settlements as part of an estate centre, or part of the settlement spectrum within an estate, as suggested for Villiers-le-Sec (Cuisenier and Guadagnin 1988; Gentili 2010, 122–5). This diversity in the range of settlements identified as estate centres reflects a number of phenomena and possibilities. The range of sites interpreted as estate centres could reflect real diversity in their physical form and character, and this certainly appears to be the case depending on their functions (Zadora-Rio 2003, 8). It is true also that no universal material template existed for an estate centre (see Chapter 7). The occurrence of identifiable elite residences and lifestyles of aristocratic consumption may have varied depending on whether the estate owners were resident or not. For example, signs of ostentatious consumption might not be expected at an estate centre of a monastic landholder, where the focus for the consumption of renders or cash rents was the monastery itself, not a subordinate estate centre. In contrast, signs of conspicuous consumption and social differentiation might be deemed more likely of an estate centre where an aristocratic or royal household was permanently or periodically resident. Hence, the settlements at Sarry and Villiers-le-Sec, as possessions of the monasteries of Saint-Mesmin at Micy (Loiret) and SaintDenis (Paris) respectively, can be viewed as representative of estate centres of monastic estates, as opposed to those centres discussed in Chapter 7, which were characterised by conspicuous consumption for purposes of social display. The equation of excavated settlement remains with documentary evidence for the existence of an estate can also be too simplistic. Multiple settlement foci may have existed in an estate and it is often difficult to be certain whether an excavated settlement equates with the part that was its centre. The application of elite-led models of social evolution and hierarchy, derived from social anthropology, has also encouraged the association of signs of social differentiation, specialisation and exchange with aristocratic identity and control of rural centres. This has been especially true of approaches to interpretation in the Netherlands, where the Frisian

Larger farming communities in West Francia, AD 600–900

settlements of Valkenburg and Rijnsburg, in the Rhine delta, are currently interpreted as estate centres (Bazelmans, Dijkstra and De Konig 2004, 22–3). The signs of ranking in burial practice and burial association on these sites are no different to those seen at Saleux ‘Les Coutures’ and BussySaint-Georges ‘Les Dix-huit Arpents’, and no reflections of a paramount family are seen in the habitation zones of the latter settlements. Neither the Saleux nor Bussy-Saint-Georges site is deemed to reflect elite estate centres in a northern French context. The interpretation of the Rhine delta sites as estate centres might reflect regional difference, but it is equally likely to reflect a lack of consideration of how free proprietors, or even wealthy tenants, might have expressed themselves within settlements. Models of social evolution, focussing on the role of elites, have been applied in the Netherlands, and also in Britain, in such a way as to define ‘high-status’ and ‘low-status’ settlements. These simple and vague labels are easily equated with the labels ‘aristocratic’ or ‘elite’ on the one hand and ‘peasant’ on the other. Hence, when individuals are marked out as special on settlements, and appear wealthier than their peers, the tendency has been to label them as aristocratic, and their settlements as ‘estate centres’. Yet one could equally interpret the inhabitants of the Valkenburg and Rijnsburg settlements as wealthy free proprietors – Frisian marchands– paysans – where specialist production was undertaken for exchange (Lebecq 1983; Loveluck and Tys 2006, 147). In reality, a range of archaeological profiles of production, collection, burial, commemoration and consumption are to be expected of estate centres, some of which are certainly reflected among nucleated settlements. Whilst at the same time, others probably reflect communities of free small landowners and peasants linked to estate territories. Just as with the settlements of the central Middle Ages, there was no necessity for a direct correlation between land tenure and settlement morphology. Mutual defence, kinship relations and a sense of group identity on the part of free and perhaps also tied farmers could also have led to larger-scale settlement agglomeration on peasant initiative, in the face of the elite-led changes that were certainly taking place around them. The agency for settlement nucleation and the formation of larger communities could have been the product of local peasant initiatives as much as those of regional aristocrats. Once renders and rents to landowners had been paid, free and tied peasant communities operated largely on their own behalf.

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5 Farming communities of Anglo-Saxon England

and the Atlantic fringes, AD 600–900

Hamlets and small household hierarchies in Anglo-Saxon England

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Within the geographical area of Britain (England and southern Scotland) that saw the development of Anglo-Saxon societies, it is difficult to be certain of the relative proportion of seventh- to ninth-century settlements that were single farmsteads or hamlets of several households, rather than larger agglomerations of farming units, like Mucking (Essex) and West Heslerton (North Yorkshire), or sites that have been interpreted as rural estate centres, such as Flixborough (Lincolnshire), Wicken Bonhunt (Essex), Portchester Castle (Hampshire) or Higham Ferrers (Northamptonshire). The problems of distinction between different types and scales of settlement, and hence conclusions on their relative abundance, are almost certainly influenced by the relatively limited surface areas of excavations in Britain, in comparison to France or the Netherlands. Having said this, however, combinations of extensive aerial photographic surveys, detailed programmes of regional surface collection (field-walking), geophysical surveys and targeted (sometimes large-scale) excavations do provide a composite image of the nature, networks and hierarchies of single farmsteads, hamlets and larger settlement agglomerations (see Map 5). Two trends are immediately apparent. Firstly, concentrations of single farmsteads and hamlets are located in environmental zones which were marginal in terms of their potential for arable cultivation. Indeed, some of these marginal landscapes, such as coastal marshes and fenland, were deemed liminal, watery wildernesses housing evil spirits and demons by seventh- and eighth-century clerics, such as St Guthlac, representatives of the Anglo-Saxon elite who gauged their wealth primarily in terms of potential for cereal production (Felix Ch. 24, Colgrave 1956, 86–7). Indeed, historians of the landscape and Western attitudes to ‘nature’ have long noted the disproportionate impact of the views of these early medieval clerics, and archaeology can now verify the truth of their representations, portrayed within religious polemic (Rackham 1986, 374–5; Coates 1998, 58). Other marginal, high-risk landscapes that saw new permanent settlements

Farming communities of Anglo-Saxon England, AD 600–900

were uplands. Many of the new settlements, founded in marshland and upland locations, date from the seventh and eighth centuries and have been interpreted in the past as reflections of population expansion and also colonisation promoted by elites, to expand the wealth derived from the landscapes within their estates, through specialised settlements.

Watery margins The results of the regional surveys of the former wetlands of the east coast of England, conducted during the 1980s and early 2000s, have transformed our appreciation of activities and habitation on the edges of and within the tracts of coastal marshland, between c. AD 600 and 900. These surveys, comprising field-walking and targeted geophysical surveys and excavations, in the Lincolnshire and East Anglian Fens and the former coastal marshes around the Humber estuary, have provided evidence for settled landscapes of farmsteads and small hamlets within the zones of sand islands, saltmarshes, peat fen and tidal creek systems. Generally, larger settlements and sites identified as estate centres tend to be located on the dry landward edge of the marshlands, leaving the saltmarsh and sand ‘islandscapes’ of the coastal fringes to settlements of one to several households. The landscapes of small hamlets and farmsteads, dating from the seventh to tenth centuries (and later), at Gosberton, in the Lincolnshire Fens, and Fishtoft (Lincolnshire) on a sand spur adjacent to a tidal channel, near Boston, provide the best examples of such settlements to date (Map 5). All comprise a small number of rectangular buildings, with varieties of post-hole and post-in-trench foundations, and enclosures and small field systems (Crowson et al. 2005; Cope-Faulkner forthcoming). All the farms and hamlets also appear to have been permanently occupied, with mixed farming economies suited to saltmarsh environments. A bias towards the raising of cattle, sheep and horses is reflected by the preponderance of young and sub-adult animals at the Gosberton sites. Barley, a salt-tolerant cereal, was also grown on the Gosberton farms and at Ingleborough (Norfolk). A recurrent pattern of iron-smithing was also found on the Gosberton sites, probably exploiting a bog-iron ore source; and possible hints of salt production were also identified. At Fishtoft, definitive evidence of salt production dating from the eighth and ninth centuries was recovered, in the form of large quantities of securely stratified briquetage (E. Morris pers. comm.). The relationship between the marshland inhabitants of the Lincolnshire sea marshes and the Fens with estate centres is a matter of speculation

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alone, for the period between the seventh and tenth centuries. Many may have been nominally subordinate to estate centres, perhaps paying renders in the form of livestock. Others, however, may have been small kindred groups of free proprietors independent of large estates, depending on the vagaries of the way territories and social groups became defined by charters. In the past, occupation of the fenland landscape has been viewed as a consequence of an impetus to colonisation within estate structures, predominantly from the mid seventh century and later, and monastic institutions have often been suggested as promoters of this activity (Hamerow 2002, 150). However, evidence is growing of some settlement in the fifth and sixth centuries, with an expansion in the number of settlements from the later seventh and eighth centuries. This increase may be an archaeological illusion, however, since its recognition is related to an increased number of sites using imported and well-fired pottery that was widely exchanged, such as slow-wheel-turned Ipswich ware and Maxey-type wares. The smaller numbers of earlier settlements could reflect the less well-fired nature of certain fifth- to seventh-century pottery forms or inability to date certain handmade pottery with any precision within the Anglo-Saxon period (Blinkhorn in Crowson et al. 2005; Vince and Young 2009, 392–401). If many coast and marshland dwellers were integrated within estate structures, it would appear that such integration did not constrain their maritime contacts or their ability to gain materially after payment of any estate renders. Their very liminality made their activities hard to police, even if such policing was desired, due to the difficulties of communication with and within the world of sand islands and tidal creeks. When textual sources shed light on the social make-up of the inhabitants of the Humber coastal region and the Fens, in the mid-eleventh-century Domesday survey, there were high concentrations of ‘sokemen’ in this area. They were freemen owning their own lands, in the tenth and eleventh centuries, who were obliged to commend themselves to a ‘lord’ but retained the right to change lords when they chose (Williams 1995, 74–6). They lost significant elements of their freedom after the Norman Conquest but nevertheless retained an imprint on settlement topography. David Stocker and Paul Everson have identified a series of very high concentrations of sokemen in certain villages in north Lincolnshire, some in proximity to the coast, which seem to have resulted in communal initiatives divorced from the secular and ecclesiastical aristocracy before the Norman Conquest, such as the laying out of communal village ‘greens’ – central open spaces – often with a village church built upon parts of them (Stocker and Evison 2006, 74–6).

Farming communities of Anglo-Saxon England, AD 600–900

Similar concentrations of ‘freemen’ also existed in the coastal regions of East Anglia. The presence of large numbers of free peasants in these coastal regions during the eleventh century could reflect the legacy of large numbers of independent freemen occupying the transitory world between land and sea in earlier centuries, or it could reflect the fact that the coastal dwellers had won their freedom and broken away from earlier estate structures by the later ninth and tenth centuries. Changes in land ownership and dislocation of old estates may have been promoted by Scandinavian overlordship and limited settlement in much of eastern England, between the mid ninth and mid tenth century. All the hamlets located on sand islands seem to have had direct access to maritime communication routes via tidal creeks. Indeed, the site at Fishtoft was situated immediately adjacent to a feature interpreted as a tidal channel, and a small site at Ingleborough, on the same sand island as the larger settlement at West Walton (Norfolk), was situated in very close proximity to the estuary and saltmarshes of the River Nene (Crowson et al. 2005, 171–2; Cope-Faulkner forthcoming; (Map 5)). The occupants of the hamlets at ‘Chopdike Drove’ and ‘Mornington House’, around the modern settlement at Gosberton, possessed small quantities of imported black- or grey-burnished pottery wares from northern France or the Low Countries, as well as lava quern-stones from the Niedermendig area of the middle Rhineland, near Cologne. Both hamlets also had access to larger quantities of Ipswich ware, made at the port of Ipswich (Suffolk), then in the kingdom of East Anglia (Blinkhorn and Fryer in Crowson et al. 2005, 84–9 and 114–19). And the pattern is repeated at the hamlet of Ingleborough, where a sherd of Ipswich ware was recovered along with pieces of black-/grey-burnished ware from northern France, and Tating ware from the Rhineland (Blinkhorn in Crowson et al. 2005, 178–86). None of the settlements had large metalwork assemblages and coinage is largely absent, with the exception of early- to mid-eighth-century sceatta coinage, minted in Frisia (Series E, ‘porcupine’ type) and Ribe in Denmark (Series X, ‘Wotan-monster’ type) from West Walton (Feveile 2006a).

Uplands Archaeological excavations in the uplands of England, especially in the Pennines and Northumberland, also provide an image of the expansion of permanent settlement into previously marginal territories for cereal agriculture, especially during the eighth and ninth centuries. Petra Dark’s study of pollen evidence suggests a locally varied picture of the use of

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upland landscapes between c. AD 400 and 800. While there was an undoubted decrease in cereal cultivation in the early post-Roman centuries, around the former northern frontier zone of Hadrian’s Wall, there is greater evidence of either continuity of land use or increased evidence of agriculture in other uplands of England between the fifth and ninth centuries (Dark 1996, 40–51). There are indications from some regions that upland farmsteads continued to be occupied from the Roman period into the fifth and sixth centuries. At Roxby, in the North Yorkshire Moors, and at Staxton-Newham’s Pit, on the northern slopes of the Yorkshire Wolds, fifth- or sixth-century Anglo-Saxon artefacts mark a change in the expression of ethnic affiliation on the part of their occupants (Brewster 1957, 200–18; Spratt 1993, 193). It is unclear, however, whether these settlements were occupied beyond the sixth or seventh centuries. There was renewed or expanded permanent settlement in certain upland regions through the eighth and ninth centuries. The work of Coggins and King, in particular, has provided the most detailed insight into such settlements in the Pennine hills of northern England, through the excavations at Simy Folds (Co. Durham), in upper Teesdale, and at ‘Gauber High Pasture’ Ribblehead (North Yorkshire), in the upper Ribble valley (Map 5). The Simy Folds settlement was situated on the upper slopes of the south bank of the Tees valley, near Middleton. On the basis of radiocarbon dates from hearths, the settlement was founded towards the end of the eighth century, with four farmsteads, comprising two or three dry-stone rectangular buildings linked to small enclosing walls that formed yards. Each seems to have had a principal residential building, between 8 m and 13.5 m in length and 3.5 to 4 m in width. The farms were aligned on an approximate east–west axis, located within an existing Bronze Age field system. Artefact remains were limited but the settlement may have been associated with a rise in cereals in a pollen core taken from a peat deposit near the settlement. Pollen cores from lower Teesdale also suggest forest clearance and renewed arable cultivation during the eighth century (Coggins, Fairless and Batey 1983). At ‘Gauber High Pasture’, Ribblehead, a similar farmstead to those at Simy Folds was discovered, with a principal residential building, 19 m long and 4 m wide, and two smaller ancillary rectangular buildings. It was situated on a limestone terrace, overlooking Romano-British field enclosures and the Roman road crossing the Pennines from Lancaster to Wensley. No pottery was used on the settlement but finds included a spearhead, knives, a tinned copper-alloy clapper bell for livestock, and four Northumbrian Anglo-Saxon coins called stycas, dating from the mid ninth century (King 2004, 338–41). Other smaller

Farming communities of Anglo-Saxon England, AD 600–900

and isolated rectangular, dry-stone buildings have also been discovered in the North Yorkshire Pennines on Malham Moor, at ‘Prior Rakes’ near Bolton Priory, with late eighth- and ninth-century jewellery and ninthcentury stycas respectively (King 2004, 337–8). All the discoveries seem to point to a more intensive use of uplands, including new permanent settlements, during the eighth and ninth centuries. The initiative behind this expansion can only be suspected, whether a consequence of promotion by estate owners to maximise estate rents or colonisation by free farming lineages. A general demographic growth may have influenced this more permanent settlement of the uplands, together with a general warming of the climate and more balanced precipitation (rain- and snowfall), now detectable in a range of palaeoclimatic data, notably Greenland and Alpine glacier ice cores (McCormick et al. 2012b, 200–1).

Cereal-based landscapes of lowland England A range of farmsteads and small hamlets was also to be found in cerealbased lowland landscapes amid larger settlement agglomerations of farming communities and estate centres. Some were abandoned in the later seventh and early eighth centuries. Some were occupied from the fifth or sixth centuries until the tenth century. Others were founded in the course of the seventh century, to enjoy occupation into the later Middle Ages. Patterns also differ regionally and significant social ranking seems to have existed among the various farming settlements, although the way such ranking was expressed varied in terms of the material culture and social practices used to express it. For example, in the coastal landscapes embedded within maritime communication networks, possession of imported luxuries did not necessarily mark social rank to the same extent as it may have done amongst farming communities inland, so portable wealth cannot be read as a normative indicator of social status without consideration of the social and environmental settings of settlements and their inhabitants. In eastern England, a number of seventh- to tenth-century farmsteads and hamlets consisted of enclosures surrounding residential buildings, with their own small cemeteries, sometimes associated with a building that may have been a funerary chapel. Examples come from Thwing (East Yorkshire), on the Yorkshire Wolds, and Bramford (Suffolk) (Map 5) (Reynolds 1999, 144; Loveluck 2007a, 67–70; Manby forthcoming). Another such settlement with a number of enclosures housing farming

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Figure 4 Plan of the settlement at Riby Crossroads on the edge of the sea marshes, Lincolnshire

families has been found at Riby (Lincolnshire) (Steedman 1994). The latter settlement was occupied from the fifth or sixth century onwards, and the settlement defined by enclosures may date from the seventh or eighth century (Figure 4). All of the latter settlements enjoyed stable development throughout their occupation sequences. As a group, they have also yielded imported Frisian and/or English silver sceatta coins, together with other Continental imports, such as lava querns and the occasional glass vessel fragment, from the later seventh and eighth centuries. Similarly, a range of unenclosed hamlets in southern England, such as Trowbridge (Wiltshire), have also yielded imported glass vessel fragments from the same period (Graham and Davies 1993). Thwing and Riby are located in proximity to the Humber estuary and North Sea coast; and Bramford and Trowbridge were sited along river communication corridors close to the North Sea and Channel coasts. None of the latter settlements can show evidence of organised and ostentatious provisioning like large centres of

Farming communities of Anglo-Saxon England, AD 600–900

consumption (see Chapter 7), nor do they exhibit signs of specialist craftworking, but their access to some imported luxuries seems to reflect an ability to procure goods via exchange of surpluses and freedom to move within the landscape. Riding gear and weapons are also consistent finds. Such a pattern of access to goods could be viewed within controlled redistribution from aristocratic lords to clients, and this is likely. Yet the sheer abundance of imported goods in coastal zones, in England and along the Channel and southern North Sea coasts of the Continent, also suggests extensive freedom to acquire goods directly (Loveluck and Tys 2006, 147–54). Few individual lowland farmsteads dating from the eighth and ninth centuries have been excavated but as a consequence of detailed local and regional survey projects, it can be shown that they were, along with small hamlets, the most numerous component of settlement patterns. The transect and grid-based field-walking (surface collection) surveys in the area of Raunds (Northamptonshire) identified a farmstead at ‘Thorpe End’ Raunds which had been occupied continuously from the Iron Age into the later medieval period (Maps 5 and 7). Aerial photographs, geophysical survey and clusters of pottery showed that the settlement had enjoyed a stable development ever since the construction of an enclosed farmstead in the Iron Age (Parry 2006, 235–40). A combination of metal-detector use, targeted geophysical survey and regional aerial photographic survey on the southern slopes of the Yorkshire Wolds has also identified a single, partially enclosed farmstead at Cottam (East Yorkshire), dating from the eighth and ninth centuries (Map 5). It was replaced by another nearby, during the ninth to tenth centuries; and aerial photographic survey suggests that there may be numerous other farmsteads of a similar type to Cottam on the Yorkshire Wolds (Richards 1999, 2000a, 27–39). Finds of copper-alloy jewellery and coinage dating from the eighth and ninth centuries suggest that the latter farmsteads were fully integrated within regional social and exchange networks. It is unclear in what context these farmsteads should be viewed. They may have been dependent farming communities within agricultural ‘estate’ territories. However, they may also reflect the settlements of independent free households with their own lands, and it is interesting to note that, as in West Francia, some farmsteads and small hamlets had particularly long and stable occupation sequences, as at ‘Thorpe End’ Raunds. Such long continuity might suggest a settlement of a small household with its own land rather than incorporation within a larger estate structure, many of which were prone to fluctuation and change in the later first millennium AD.

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Alternatively, Jones and Page have suggested that the apparent long-term continuity of pre-ninth-century Anglo-Saxon farmsteads and hamlets in Northamptonshire was a consequence of relatively light demands on dependent clients from lords based at their estate centres. They suggest that existing settlements and their inhabitants were incorporated within estate structures without significant obligations to estate owners initially, or regular lordly presence. This theory is based mainly on the evidence of farmsteads and hamlets provided by field-walking evidence – surface scatters of pottery and other artefacts – from Northamptonshire, especially the Raunds and Whittlewood areas (Jones and Page 2006, 67–8). Thus, in their view, patterns of settlement and incorporation of free families within estate structures would not have necessitated any change in patterns of settlement at the base of the farming hierarchy. The Cottam farmstead and also the hamlet at Thwing could be viewed as signs of increased permanent settlement on the Yorkshire Wolds between the mid seventh and eighth centuries, within existing transhumance territories of larger settlements and estates around their fringes. A key mechanism for such an occurrence in this region would have been the granting away of blocks of land from larger territories such as the Northumbrian royal estate focussed on Driffield (East Yorkshire), occupying the headwaters of the River Hull and the lower slopes of the southern Wolds (Loveluck 1996, 56–8). The levels of material wealth and connectivity on the part of settlements like Thwing and Cottam, however, also caution against automatic assumption of their secondary nature within larger estate structures. They may have been free of such links, or potential demands of tenure did not always impact on access to material wealth and extent of exchange networks, once any tenurial dues had been paid. There was potentially little relationship between land tenure and clientage on the one hand, and the ability of communities to acquire portable wealth on the other, illustrated most graphically in coastal rural hierarchies, amongst artisans, and in ports (see Chapter 9).

Larger settlements and administrative centres of farming territories Just as in West Francia, a range of larger settlement agglomerations and nucleated settlements are now emerging from seventh- to ninth-century Anglo-Saxon England, mainly in lowland cereal-growing areas. Some, like West Heslerton (North Yorkshire), may reflect a settlement of farming

Farming communities of Anglo-Saxon England, AD 600–900

families of free status that developed from the fifth century onwards, with changes in the organisation of space on the settlement during the seventh or eighth century. Conversely, the same settlement could be viewed as an estate centre of a farming territory by the seventh century (Powlesland 2000, 2003). At other sites, such as Carlton Colville (Suffolk), there are greater signs of a gravitational pull on resources, from farmed and wild animals, to craft specialisation and exchange, probably reflecting the leading settlement of an agricultural territory, even though the settlement itself was not large (Lucy 2009). These settlements highlight the fact that the archaeological reflections of estate centres could vary depending on their roles as centres of agricultural production, specialist manufacturing, resource collection or consumption. This discussion addresses the problems of identifying the three former types of centre in rural landscapes, and nodes of conspicuous consumption are analysed in Chapter 7. The problems of identifying estate centres have been tied to the developmental stages of seventh- to ninth-century rural settlement studies for Anglo-Saxon England. Up until the 1980s, the bias towards excavations at documented monasteries, and the apparent contrast with the excavated royal estate centre at Yeavering (Northumberland) (Map 6), led to a belief that the reflections of secular and ecclesiastical centres would be distinct. With the presumed exception of episcopal foci, monasteries appeared to be the only settlements that possessed buildings constructed of mortared stone or with stone footings, along with evidence of literacy, sculpture, specialist non-ferrous metalworking and abundant links with Continental Europe. Yeavering, as the only excavated royal palace centre of the seventh century, seemed to be much poorer in terms of discarded material culture, and the evidence of specialist non-ferrous metalworking at the settlement was often not cited (Loveluck 2002, 2007a). John Blair combined this apparent difference with Helena Hamerow’s theory that fifth- to seventh-century Anglo-Saxon settlements wandered around the landscape, following what Zadora-Rio has termed the ‘Nordic model’ (Hamerow 2002, 93–9; Zadora-Rio 2003, 7), to advance the theory that monasteries/minsters formed the first stable estate centres in Anglo-Saxon England, as well as the main foci for specialist production and exchange beyond coastal ports (Blair 2005). The emergence of stable secular centres was seen ultimately as an influence from Christian monastic sites and the booking of land, but the discarded material culture of secular centres was expected to be relatively poor in comparison to monastic counterparts. Following this agenda, sites that had been deemed secular estate centres or even palaces were reinterpreted as minsters, if their topographical

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situation, structural character and artefact signatures seemed to correspond with the expectations for monasteries: for example, the settlements at Northampton (Northamptonshire) and Cheddar (Somerset) (Blair 1996a). Yeavering and also the settlements at Cowdery’s Down (Hampshire) (Millett and James 1983) and Yarnton (Oxfordshire) (Figure 5) (Hey 2004), in contrast, have been presented as typical of secular estate centres, due to the relative poverty of their artefact assemblages in comparison to monasteries. So too, is the recently published settlement at Higham Ferrers, which possessed a large livestock enclosure similar to that at Yeavering for a short time in its occupation sequence, during the early to mid eighth century, and exhibited very limited evidence for consumption of imported goods – a single sherd of Continental pottery (Figure 6) (Hardy, Charles and Williams 2007). The latter settlement was interpreted as a collection centre for renders from subordinate landholdings within an estate, prior to redistribution to a centre of consumption, suggested to be the settlement at nearby Irthlingborough (Northamptonshire), on the opposite bank of the River Nene (Hardy, Charles and Williams 2007, 198–206). King Offa of Mercia confirmed a charter at Irthlingborough in 786 and it may have been a royal estate centre. The settlement linked to the charter confirmation has been identified at ‘Crow Hill’, Irthlingborough, sited within an Iron Age hillfort, and is known from aerial photography, geophysical survey and surface artefact scatters. When it was sampled by a small excavation trench, however, it did not yield a wealthy archaeological signature similar to the centres of consumption discussed in Chapter 7, so any relationship between Higham Ferrers and Irthlingborough still remains to be demonstrated archaeologically (Parry 2006, 146). A range of excavated settlements now exist to challenge the theory that secular estate centres were unstable or did not exist prior to the mid seventh century. Recent detailed analysis of archaeological site formation processes in England and Scandinavia has cast serious doubt on whether settlements such as Mucking (Essex) or Scandinavian settlements like Vorbasse (Jutland) ever shifted very far (Holst 2004a, 129–47, 2004b; Tipper 2004). Indeed, the most recent studies in England, at the 20-hectare excavations of the settlement at West Heslerton, show that the settlement enjoyed a largely stable use of space between the later fifth and ninth centuries. However, the dispersed but distinct housing, craft-working and crop-processing zones of the fifth to seventh centuries do appear to have become more focussed within enclosed space sometime between the seventh and ninth centuries (Powlesland 2000, 19–26). At Mucking, the evidence that Hamerow read as reflecting a shifting settlement prior to

Farming communities of Anglo-Saxon England, AD 600–900

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Figure 6 Plan of the settlement at Higham Ferrers, Northamptonshire

early eighth-century abandonment has also been interpreted as two stable settlement foci by Tipper (Tipper 2004). The detailed analysis of settlements such as Carlton Colville and Flixborough, which seem to have acted as centres for territories, showed that both were stable foci: at the former settlement from the sixth century, and the latter from the late seventh century, at the latest (Figure 5) (Loveluck and Atkinson 2007; Lucy 2009). The excavations at Portchester Castle (Hampshire) and Wicken Bonhunt (Essex) in southern England also demonstrated, already during the 1970s,

Farming communities of Anglo-Saxon England, AD 600–900

the stable nature of these settlement foci, identified as secular centres (see Map 5). Their greater quantities of discarded portable wealth also demonstrated the potentially unrepresentative nature of Yeavering as a type-site. What has become clear, however, is our need to appreciate the full range of settlement types that acted as centres structuring and administrating rural production. The hamlet excavated at ‘Bloodmoor Hill’, Carlton Colville has been interpreted as an early estate centre, and is suggested to have served in such a capacity from the sixth century (Figure 5) (Lucy 2009, 434). The location of the settlement remained stable for the 200 years of its existence from the sixth to early eighth century, and consisted of a small number of wooden rectangular buildings, with post-hole and continuous trench foundations; sunken-featured buildings (Grubenhäuser) and surface refuse deposits. The buildings were not much larger than 10 or 11 m in length and 5 m in width, and no principal residential building is clearly evident. A general trend towards denser settlement clustering or planning is noted for the later phases of the settlement, in the seventh to early eighth century (Lucy 2009, 430–1; Tipper 2009, 38–169). Signs of planning and organisation of space are seen to a greater extent at the contemporary royal estate centre/palace at Yeavering, and the settlement at Cowdery’s Down, where larger buildings also display conspicuous use of timber. However, portable wealth discarded at the latter sites was minimal in comparison with Carlton Colville. This probably reflects different refuse management strategies, varying preservation conditions, or different central functions for these settlements. For example, occasional occupation of estate/palace centres by royal households may have generated periodic and more manageable levels of waste that could be moved on to fields in manuring, in contrast to permanently occupied smaller centres of local notables, such as Carlton Colville, where refuse accumulated constantly, perhaps leaving a more representative picture of daily life. The role of the small settlement at Carlton Colville as a local centre is suggested by a small number of pottery vessels imported from northern France, from the sixth and seventh centuries, a silver sceat dated to the late seventh century, and fragments of lava querns from the Niedermendig region. These imported items make the settlement no different to smaller hamlets and farmsteads in coastal regions. Yet a gravitational pull on resources and people is marked instead by a concentration of non-ferrous metalworking evidence, in the form of crucible and mould fragments, along with a range of tools and debris associated with woodworking, leatherworking, iron-smithing and stoneworking (Cowgill 2009a, 2009b). Markers that were certainly linked to local notables and regional elites in the

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eighth and ninth centuries, in both England and West Francia, were also present in the form of several fragments of horse bridle harness and a small collection of weapons: several arrowheads, spearheads and shield fittings (Lucy et al. 2009, 275–6). Limited exploitation of wild animals was also reflected at Carlton Colville by small numbers of bones from roe deer, red deer and four cetacean vertebrae, from sperm and beaked whales, thought to have been obtained from beached animals (Higbee 2009, 279–304). The whale vertebrae had been used as chopping blocks. Power of access to whales, however, certainly appears to be a trait linked to high social status and also maritime-oriented identity. Hence they are found on wealthier rural centres, in ports and in coastal margins (Gardiner 1997, 173–95; and see Chapters 7 and 9). This power of access to certain wild resources is mirrored but on a much larger scale at rural centres of consumption, such as Flixborough, during the eighth century (Loveluck 2007a). A small inhumation cemetery of twenty-six graves was also sited in the centre of the Carlton Colville settlement, dating from the mid to late decades of the seventh century. The cemetery contained both adult and juvenile men and women, and some of the women were accompanied by rich dress jewellery, including gold and silver pendants and a silver cross (Scull 2009a, 385–426). The settlement and cemetery were abandoned during the early eighth century, the cause of which was linked by the excavators to the development of new concepts of landholding and the suggested development of ‘a minster-based system’ (Lucy 2009, 434). Yet the diversity of burial places now becoming apparent from the later seventh to later ninth centuries in England, as in West Francia, poses a serious question in relation to the impact of any minster/monastery-based system of pastoral care on locations for burial across the spectrum of the social hierarchy. In other instances, larger hamlets of several farming households do not exhibit the regional artefact discard patterns of eastern England. For example, at the large hamlet at Catholme (Staffordshire) in the Trent valley (Map 5), artefact remains were very limited, consisting mostly of pottery and several non-ceramic finds. The structural sequence from the farms is exceptional, however, with multiple rectangular buildings, some with annexes, and smaller numbers of sunken-featured buildings/ Grubenhäuser (Dixon 2002, 89–99). The dating of the settlement was based on radiocarbon dates. It seems to have been founded in the early seventh century and it could have been abandoned any time between the late ninth and early thirteenth century, prior to being sealed by a medieval open-field system (Garton and Kinsley 2002, 120–3). During

Farming communities of Anglo-Saxon England, AD 600–900

the later phases of the settlement there was also a tendency for the greater use of enclosure ditches to define the limits of the individual farming units, a trend also seen at West Stow (Suffolk) in the early to mid eighth century, and more generally in relation to definition of settlement space from the seventh to ninth centuries. Again, like all the settlements discussed above, the inhabitants of Catholme organised their settlement in a stable manner, reorganising the same space throughout its occupational history (Hamerow 2002b, 123). No principal farm or building focus is evident at Catholme, as at Carlton Colville. The same is true for the large hamlet at West Heslerton, even though it may have had a higher-status core, directly overlying Romano-British remains (Powlesland 2003, 289–91). At none of the above sites was there any evident link between the settlements and contemporary seventh- to ninth-century field systems. Unlike Catholme, however, West Heslerton, in the Vale of Pickering, within 20 km of the North Sea coast (Map 6), was in receipt of small quantities of imported pottery from Continental northwest Europe and the port of Ipswich in East Anglia, between the eighth and ninth centuries. The scale of excavation has also identified ironworking and non-ferrous metalworking, amongst other craft-working activities. They probably catered for the needs of the settlement’s community alone. Such a pattern of connectivity with the maritime networks of the North Sea coast is also seen at the settlement at Wharram Percy (North Yorkshire) on the Yorkshire Wolds, where fragments of several Continental and Ipswich ware pottery vessels have been found. An iron smithy, in the form of a building and smithing hearths, was also found at Wharram Percy, dating from the later seventh to ninth century (Stamper, Croft and Andrews 2000, 27–36; McDonnell 2000, 162–6). Non-ferrous metalworking moulds and crucibles for casting complex, decorated objects (Lang 1992, 65; Richards and Bayley 1992, 82–3), and woodworking, leatherworking and textile-working tools were also recovered, dating from the eighth and ninth centuries (Goodall and Clark 2000, 132–3; MacGregor 2000, 151–2). From the tenth century, a more substantial settlement with a church focus was to develop at Wharram Percy, to be succeeded by a planned village, during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. Despite the evidence for specialist manufacturing in the eighth and ninth centuries, however, there is currently debate as to whether the settlement was inhabited on a permanent basis in those centuries. Some would like to see Wharram Percy as a transhumance settlement, occupied by a transient population of craft-workers, amidst a gentle upland landscape of summer grazing, surrounded by lowland estate centres of various types (D. Stocker pers. comm.).

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Trends from Atlantic Britain and Ireland The archaeological evidence from the Atlantic fringes of the British Isles presents a picture of greater continuity in trajectories of development, compared to Anglo-Saxon England. Petra Dark’s study of pollen cores showed continued and increased agricultural activity from Wales and Scotland (Dark 1996, 31–9). Yet there are also signs of change and settlement transformation, specifically between c. AD 600 and 900. Excavations have shown that Irish ‘ringforts’ date primarily from between the sixth and ninth centuries AD (Stout 1997; Monk 1998, 35). Yet recent work has also demonstrated changes in their forms through time, with sixth- to eighth-century sites enclosing both human habitation and animal pens; while from the eighth century onwards, ‘raised raths’ or embanked ringforts tended to house only people (McCormick 2008, 220). Excavations of the two nearby ringforts at Lisleagh (Co. Cork) (Map 5) have also shown radically changing structural sequences through the later first millennium, sometimes with occupation spreading over the demolished banks and filled ditches formerly surrounding the settlements (Monk 1998, 43–5). The complexity of the settlement hierarchy among the enclosed (‘ringfort’, ‘rath’, ‘cashel’) and unenclosed settlement traditions of rural Ireland has become ever more marked by the archaeological discoveries of the later 1990s and 2000s, which show that ‘ringfort’ settlements often consisted of multiple linked enclosures, and that some also housed cemeteries. For example, Ninch, Johnstown and Raystown (Co. Meath) and Parknahown (Co. Lois) (Map 5) all possessed both enclosed cemeteries and multiple enclosures (Clarke 2010; McConway 2010; O’Neill 2010; Seaver 2010).1 The agricultural economies of Irish ringforts and unenclosed settlements of individual or several farming families show a dominance of oats and barley, with very small amounts of wheat and rye amongst arable crops, between the sixth and early eighth centuries (Monk, Tierney and Hannon 1998, 65–75). In general cattle dominate among the main domesticated animals until the early eighth century, followed by pigs and then sheep, largely kept for their wool (McCormick 1991, 40–52, 2008, 215). The emphasis on cattle-rearing was a direct consequence of wealth and status 1

The quantity and complexity of the settlement and cemetery data from early medieval Ireland is accumulating at an ever-increasing pace at the time of writing. It is not possible to review all the current evidence here. That task is currently being accomplished in the web-based publications of all recent excavations of early medieval sites in Ireland by the Early Medieval Archaeology Project (www.emap.ie), led by Dr Aidan O’Sullivan, University College Dublin, and Dr Finbar McCormick, Queen’s University Belfast.

Farming communities of Anglo-Saxon England, AD 600–900

being assessed by the possession of cattle. From the eighth and ninth centuries, however, cattle were not always the dominant domesticate, and it has been suggested by McCormick that cattle may have lost much of their social value from this time, to be replaced by husbandry regimes favouring local conditions (2008, 214). For example at the ringfort at Raheens (Co. Cork), an absence of pigs in favour of sheep was explained by the absence of woodland pasture in the area (McCarthy 1998, 60). The change in the economic and social importance of cattle also coincided with a significant expansion in cereal production, from the later seventh to the ninth century. Control of the processing of the surpluses created is probably reflected by the increased construction of watermills in the later eighth and early ninth centuries especially (McCormick 2008, 219). Exploitation of wild fauna seems to have been very limited, in contrast to aristocratic settlements, but in coastal locations there is some evidence of exploitation of beached whales, as a whale vertebra was found at Raheens (McCarthy 1998, 62). Its presence probably reflects proximity to marine resources rather than the high social status of the inhabitants. Some ringfort or ‘rath’ households of moderate wealth also had access to the latest technologies. For example, at ‘Deer Park Farms’, Glenarm (Co. Antrim), a wooden paddle from a horizontal watermill was recovered, from eighth-century levels (Lynn 1987, 11–15; Rynne 1998, 92). An inlaid stud, made from glass and gold wire, dating from the first half of the eighth century was also found at ‘Deer Park Farms’. The settlement was occupied continuously between c. AD 600 and 1000. Artefacts recovered from the site included an iron ploughshare and other agricultural tools, such as a billhook and pruning hook. Other tools reflect woodworking and textile manufacture. O’Sullivan has interpreted the rath as a prosperous farmer’s settlement (O’Sullivan 2008, 249). It has been suggested previously that it became a ‘high-status’ settlement during its eighth- to ninth-century phases (Lynn 1989, 193–8; Webster 1989, 206). The presumed change in the social status of the inhabitants was linked to finds such as the inlaid stud and the watermill paddle. It is equally likely, however, that the finds reflect a greater material prosperity for the existing family rather than a change in their social status. Discoveries at places such as Raystown in Ireland are also expanding our understanding of settlements with specialist roles in collection and processing of cereals, for the likely purpose of redistribution to aristocratic centres of consumption. Raystown comprised a settlement defined within multiple enclosures and gullies, occupied from the fifth century until the mid twelfth century (Seaver 2010, 263–8). The settlement was planned

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around an enclosed cemetery, with habitation areas within enclosures to its north and south. It is assumed that the resident population was not large as the cemetery contained a maximum of 400 burials from the entire occupation sequence (Seaver 2010, 277). Between the mid seventh and late eighth centuries, radiocarbon dates indicate that at least two horizontal watermills and mill-races were constructed south of the cemetery enclosure. Subsequently, between the mid eighth and late ninth centuries, the enclosures separating the spaces of the living and the dead were filled in and at least two new watermills were constructed. Charred cereals in huge quantities were recovered from deposits within the settlement, with barley, oats and significant quantities of wheat present between the seventh and twelfth centuries (Seaver 2010, 275). Sheep predominated at Raystown among the domesticated livestock between the seventh and late ninth centuries, but cattle were the most numerous if averaged over the entire fifth- to twelfth-century occupation sequence. A relatively large number of horses and ponies were also present, and these are interpreted as having had a role in plough traction and transport, also reflected by an iron snaffle bit from the seventh- to late ninth-century phase of occupation, with parallels from the royal site at nearby Lagore Crannog (Co. Meath), the monastery at Whithorn (Dumfries and Galloway) and the seventh-century barrow cemetery at Sutton Hoo (Suffolk) (Seaver 2010, 268). Overall, the excavator has interpreted the site as a nucleated farming settlement, housing a small population, with a special role in the collection and processing of crop renders for subsequent redistribution to royal sites (Seaver 2010, 276–8). Lagore crannog would be a local example of the latter, and there are textual sources suggesting the close association of the Raystown area with Lagore (Seaver 2010, 261–2). The excavator also entertains the possibility, however, that the occupants of Raystown could have processed the crops of other neighbouring settlements that might not have possessed mills, perhaps for their own benefit. In this context, even though Seaver does not consider the occupants of the settlement to have been of ‘high status’, a range of traits that are often considered markers of elite identity were present among the biological remains. For example, cranes and herons, amongst other river and wetland-edge birds, and also a goshawk, among woodland birds. It is not possible to know whether the goshawk was used in falconry but its presence and the occurrence of specific target species, such as cranes, raises the likelihood (Seaver 2010, 275). Like the nucleated settlements of seventh- to ninth-century Villiers-le-Sec and Saleux ‘Les Coutures’ in northern France, which also possessed small quantities of cranes, boar and

Farming communities of Anglo-Saxon England, AD 600–900

deer, there may have been internal ranking within the settlement at Raystown, with leading members of the community able to partake in hunting, as local notables, perhaps alongside members of the higher aristocracy. In Wales, pre-existing farming settlements also saw significant transformation during the seventh century. At Llanbedrgoch (see Map 5), close to Red Wharf Bay, on the island of Anglesey (Gwynedd), an existing ditch that enclosed a farm of several buildings was enlarged into a D-shaped enclosure with bank and ditch in the later sixth or seventh century. During the seventh and eighth centuries, there were both post-hole foundations of a rectangular building and a small roundhouse, and surface refuse deposits also accumulated in the enclosure. During the seventh and eighth centuries, metalwork from the site suggests links with both Ireland and AngloSaxon Northumbria. Sometime in the ninth century, a dry-stone enclosure wall replaced the former bank, and the deposition of a small hoard of mostly Carolingian, silver denier coins, containing issues of Charles the Bald (AD 848–877), Pippin II of Aquitaine (AD 839–852) and Louis the Pious (AD 822–840), suggests continued integration within networks along the Irish Sea to western France, until the mid ninth century (see Chapter 6). The excavator, Mark Redknap, has interpreted the Llanbedrgoch settlement as a local estate centre combining its farming role, including cultivation of barley, oats and wheat, with a market function. The settlement was further transformed under Scandinavian influence during the later ninth and tenth centuries (Redknap 2004, 139–75). In the Northern Isles and mainland Scotland, the inhabited landscapes surrounding central places have not received as much archaeological attention as centres of consumption, such as Dunadd (Argyll), the Mote of Mark (Dumfries and Galloway), Edinburgh castle (Lothian) or Birsay (Mainland, Orkney) (see Map 6). It is possible, however, to make some observations in relation to settlements, subsistence strategies and social relations of a range of farming landscapes in western Scotland and the Northern Isles (both the Orkneys and the Shetlands). In order to give context to the excavations at the Brough of Birsay (Mainland, Orkney), Anna Ritchie and Christopher Morris both conducted excavations of farming settlements composed of multi-celled and two-celled ‘figure-ofeight’-shaped houses, built from dry stones within the Birsay Bay area (Ritchie 1977; Morris 1989, 1995). Prior to excavations the settlements had manifested themselves as mounds on the Point of Buckquoy and at Red Craig around Birsay Bay. The buildings were seen to reflect a ‘Pictish’ milieu, dating from the seventh to early tenth centuries, on the basis of radiocarbon dates from cereals at Red Craig and diagnostic artefacts. These

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date ranges overlapped with those from the occupation sequence at the Brough of Birsay, the local central place located on a small island, approximately 500 m to the west of Birsay Bay on Mainland Orkney (Morris 1995, 16–18). The farmsteads at Buckquoy and Red Craig represent the settlements and farming landscape contemporary with the centre at Birsay. Both settlements were also associated with small numbers of graves nearby, two Pictish-type graves just to the south of Red Craig and one from Buckquoy (Morris 1995, 18–19), suggesting burials of members of the farming families occupying the settlements. Occupation at the Brough of Birsay and Buckquoy continued between the tenth and twelfth centuries, acculturated to a Norse affiliation, while Red Craig was abandoned between the mid ninth and tenth centuries. A similar picture of settlement continuity is seen on the Shetland Islands, albeit with transformations in social affiliations due to north Atlantic maritime connections. At Scalloway (Mainland, Shetland) (Map 6), a settlement focussed on a stone broch tower was occupied from c. 100 BC to the eighth century AD (Sharples 1998). The early medieval phases also comprised seven buildings with dry-stone walls, some multi-celled. No cemetery contemporary with the fifth- to eighth-century phase of the Scalloway settlement was discovered within the excavated area. Artefacts and radiocarbon evidence indicate that the early medieval phase spanned the fifth to eighth centuries without a break, and that the settlement relied primarily on domesticated livestock, limited arable farming and exploitation of coastal and sea resources, as might be expected of a north Atlantic island community balancing the husbandry of its landscape with that of its seascape. All the main domesticated animal species were present, including cattle, sheep and pigs, and a relatively large number of horse bones was present along with those of dogs and cats. A wide range of fish and seabirds was also exploited. Fish of the gadid family (for example, cod, whiting and ling) were exploited from the fifth century onwards, together with other inshore fish and some freshwater species. From the seventh to eighth centuries, however, the examples of fish such as cod and ling became larger, reflecting a slightly more advanced fishing technology and sea journeys further offshore (Ceron-Carrasco 1998a, 112–16, 1998b, 118–19). The main bird species hunted were coastal species: puffins, cormorants and gannets. The number of puffin bones recovered was double that of domesticated fowl (O’Sullivan 1998, 116–17). Sea mammals were also particularly well represented, exploited for food, oil for lighting and also as a raw material in the manufacture of bone artefacts. Nineteen bone fragments of larger whales were recovered,

Farming communities of Anglo-Saxon England, AD 600–900

including skull fragments of a minke whale, and the quantities discarded remained consistent throughout the Iron Age and early medieval phases of the settlement (O’Sullivan 1998, 111–12). The connectivity of the Scalloway settlement provided by the seaways is also reflected in the artefact assemblage from the settlement, by the presence of a safety-pin-type brooch paralleled with seventh- to ninthcentury examples from Anglo-Saxon England, most notably the collection from the settlement at Flixborough (Campbell 1998b, 166–70; Rogers 2009, 1–3); and by the presence of a socketed spearhead of Anglo-Saxon type. Metalworking was also a significant activity on the settlement, including iron-smithing and non-ferrous metalworking of copper alloy, silver and possibly gold, reflected by crucible and mould fragments, ingot moulds and possible metalworking tools (Campbell 1998a, 160–4). Whilst iron was locally available as bog iron, the copper alloy, silver and gold would also have required maritime exchange networks for their procurement. There are no indications that the Scalloway settlement was subservient to any nearby central place, and it seems to reflect the habitation focus for a local farming family of some significance, with an associated territory and relatively wide maritime connections. In other instances, hierarchical relationships between farming settlements and elite centres of consumption and collection are suggested. For example, at the farming settlement – the Dun – at Kildonan (Kintyre), a penannular brooch fragment was found, identical to a mould from the fortified centre at Dunadd (Argyll), possibly reflecting client status and group affiliation on the part of the family living at Kildonan. On the basis that penannular brooches have been interpreted as markers of elevated social status, some have argued that the example from Kildonan also marks out a similar status for the occupants (Nieke and Duncan 1988, 17–18). If so, however, such status was not marked by the consumption practices of the highest regional elites, as at Dunadd. Perhaps it is best to view the Kildonan brooch amidst the wider evidence now becoming apparent of a spectrum of wealth among farming communities, probably reflecting a range of social ranks and affiliations from free lineages of ‘middling’ status to less wealthy and less free client communities.

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6 Expressions of leadership and models for

emulation, AD 500–900

Approaches to the definition of early medieval elites from archaeological remains

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At the theoretical level, the past forty years have seen the large-scale adoption in the discipline of archaeology of methods derived from social anthropology for interpreting indications of social status. For example, luxury objects and raw materials have been equated with anthropologically defined ‘prestige goods’, and their possession and consumption have been viewed as indicative of high social status. Elites, therefore, have often been identified based on their possession and use of luxury prestige objects and their actions and aspirations have been interpreted within the context of normative models of social evolution, from tribal societies to complex chiefdoms and states. In regard to the development of northwest European societies between the seventh and tenth centuries, identification of elites from funerary practices and settlement remains has been achieved recurrently by linkage to possession of imported prestige rarities, particularly in relation to the formation of aristocracies around the North Sea and the Channel, and the creation and consolidation of kingdoms (Hodges 1982, 2000; Scull 1999; Theuws 1999a; Moreland 2000a). The application of social evolutionary models has been very useful in trying to understand the way that the power of elites could be manifested in a material way. Unfortunately, however, conclusions drawn from their application have been to a certain extent oversimplistic and superficial. They have resulted in the overuse of the vague labels ‘high status’ and ‘low status’ when assigning classifying interpretations of social status and identity, whether in relation to individuals or entire settlement communities. The ‘high status’ label has been equated with ‘materially wealthy’, and ‘low status’ with ‘materially poor’, largely based on access to imported luxury items. It is logical to presume that in most cases there was a relationship between material wealth and social status, and that the graves, buildings and settlements associated with wealthy people do reflect the social elite of early medieval northwest Europe. Yet hidden within the wide range of archaeological sites currently described under the ‘high status’ label may be

Expressions of leadership, AD 500–900

a broad spectrum of social ranks from local notables or free allodial landowners through to regional elites and the higher aristocracy. The application of archaeological and anthropological frameworks of interpretation has not shown sufficient awareness of the complexity evident from textual sources, nor of the impact of land- and seascape settings and social roles on access to portable wealth. Once the real complexity of early medieval populations is accepted, the usefulness of the generalising label ‘high status’, founded primarily on apparent correlation with material wealth, has to be questioned. For example, at what point did a free peasant landowner become a member of the elite? Were all free peasants members of the elite, or did a peasantelite exist alongside a local, regional and higher aristocracy; and how do we distinguish them archaeologically? Nor may there have been a simple correlation between access to imported luxuries and social rank. It is only the anthropological models of social evolution that suggest that access to luxuries ought to have been controlled by the highest social elite, for subsequent redistribution among clients. Verhulst, in contrast, showed very clearly that while the Merovingian and Carolingian Frankish kings were concerned to tax the export and import of bulk commodities, they showed no overt interest in restricting the access to smaller luxury items within their borders – the very items that prestige-good theories suggest they should have been concerned about, if their possession reflected and enhanced social standing by themselves (Verhulst 2002, 130). To begin to take account of the complexities of the communities of the free, and identify the elements within them which constituted the social elites, it is necessary to take an approach which considers integrated lifestyles of consumption, production and social display that evaluate the control of resources of the land on an equal footing with objects procured by trade and exchange. By examining the profiles of consumption evident in social practices of life and death, the scale of control over different landbased resources can be assessed, and the context of consumption of luxury objects can be understood within rituals of display, such as the feast, the hunt and interment of the dead (Loveluck 2005, 230–58, 2007a). Different methods of display can also be analysed for different groups among the likely elite, whether secular aristocrats on their estate centres, or ecclesiastical elites at their episcopal centres, monasteries and estate centres. Differences in the scale of consumption of land-based resources on settlements, and the specific practices associated with them, are also likely to be the key indicators that differentiate secular and ecclesiastical aristocracies from local notables in possession of smaller allodial lands.

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Identification and creation of elites, c. AD 500–700 When considering the questions of how elites can be identified and how they created themselves in western Europe during the sixth and seventh centuries AD, we are inevitably dealing with questions of transformation in the nature and expression of the existing elites of the western Roman provinces and some regions beyond the former empire, and of the creation of new leaders and societies resulting from conquest, acculturation and a degree of population movement. Archaeologists, like historians, have grappled with the problem of distinguishing immigrant from native elites for the past 150 years, at least, and it is only with a greater awareness in the past twenty years of the complexities of ethnogenesis and expression of ethnic and group affiliation that greater insights into the possible mechanics of the emergence of elites have proved possible. From an archaeological perspective, the incorporation of these new understandings has a number of implications for trying to explain the physical expression of new elites and the transformed expression of existing ones, between c. AD 500 and 650. These are, firstly, that levels of portable wealth need not have directly reflected elite status or control over land-based resources; and secondly, that different groups may have reflected elite affiliation differently due to varied social heritage, even within the same socio-political, ‘ethnic’ entity. In essence, the material culture reflections of old and new elites represent ‘moving targets’, in that the evidence can often be ‘read’ in multiple ways in the present, as it may have been ‘read’ in multiple ways in the past.

Burial practices, commemorative monuments and burial structures Burial practices, structures and commemorative monuments from western Europe have often been used to chart the rise of elites between the late fifth and seventh centuries AD, and many of the vagaries and complexities alluded to above are encountered. For example, in northern France, Belgium and Rhineland Germany, occasional male inhumation graves furnished with swords, decorated with gold-foil and cloisonné garnet hilts, occur over a geographically wide area in ‘row-grave’ cemeteries (Ament 1970; Kazanski and Périn 1988, 13–38; Vallet 1988, 45–55). The graves date from the late fifth to the mid sixth centuries AD, and due to their location in areas of presumed ‘Frankish settlement’ they have often been interpreted as those of a new immigrant elite in northern Gaul, whose families were trying to establish and consolidate their place amongst new communities of both immigrant and native descent.

Expressions of leadership, AD 500–900

There is nothing specifically ‘Frankish’, however, about the swords or their decoration. Their style and decorative forms herald ultimately from the fifth-century Black Sea region, and were popular in the Late Roman military and amongst groups such as the Huns, in possession of huge quantities of Late Roman/early Byzantine gifts and tribute. Hence, nonFrankish material culture was used to create an element of ‘Frankish elite identity’, assuming that the swords mark out leading members of society, north of the River Loire, or at the very least, lineages with a key military role between the Rhine and the Loire (Theuws and Alkemade 2000, 443–55). Yet the men buried with the gold-hilted swords may not have been ‘Frankish’ immigrants. They could conceivably have been members of existing Gallo-Roman elites acculturating their methods of expression using new media for marking elite status, namely furnished inhumation and sword-burial. Nor may burial with a gold-hilted sword have marked the leading role of the dead individual alone; it may instead have marked the rank and/or role of his wider kinship group. Nor may such a role have been hereditary in the later fifth and sixth centuries. It is equally unclear whether such swords were a mark of power based exclusively on office and direct service to the Merovingian kings, or whether their possession was also a marker of control over land. Hence, we are confronted ultimately with the question of whether undoubted portable wealth and military role can be read as a sign of an existing or new landed aristocracy, or a more ephemeral power based on personal service to, and gifts from, the Merovingian royal families. Staying with the theme of sword-burials as a potential sign of elite status, the evidence from Anglo-Saxon England is equally complex. Between the early to mid fifth century and the mid seventh century there are quite distinct chronological and regional trends in the deposition of swords. The proportion of furnished male graves with swords was always small, which may in itself have marked the elite status or war leadership role of the deceased (Härke 1997, 144–7). The relative number of swords deposited in southeastern England over the course of the fifth century, however, is significantly larger than the number of sword-burials deposited in the sixth century. At the same time, sword-burials are especially rare in eastern England, from East Anglia through Lincolnshire and Yorkshire, in both the fifth and sixth centuries. Furthermore, in contrast to most of southeast England, sword-burials continued to be more common in Kent and the Isle of Wight in the sixth century (Arnold 1982; Fischer 2008, 17). This indicates that accompanying male graves with swords (or not) did not necessarily project the same social meaning in different regions of

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fifth- and sixth-century Anglo-Saxon England. Only by the early seventh century was a small proportion of male graves provided with swords across all the regions of Anglo-Saxon England, which may have equated to a culturally uniform ‘badge of rank’ and elite status. This also accompanied the transition to uniform customs of furnishing male and female burials across Anglo-Saxon England, and the disappearance of regionally specific female ‘dress fashions’ reflected in the graves. It may be possible, therefore, to identify the emergence of elite families, both an aristocracy and regional elites, in eastern England between c. AD 600 and 650, using an equation of wealth in death reflecting social rank in life. Yet even this exercise is rendered potentially spurious when one factors into the argument the potential impact of new religious ideology on burial practice: namely Christianity, in the south and north of eastern England, respectively. The problems of regional dynamics are equally evident south of the Loire in western Francia. If there were any royal officers or aspirant elites from northern Gaul serving the sixth-century Merovingian kings in Aquitaine, then they did not express themselves using gold-hilted swords, unlike their northern counterparts. Instead, unfurnished inhumation is the norm within sarcophagi, or stone- or tile-lined cist graves. This marked direct continuity of Late Roman provincial burial practice, from the fourth to seventh centuries AD (Collardelle 1983). Burials of higher social status than the norm are marked out more by association with elaborate beltbuckle sets, especially in the sixth and seventh centuries, as at ViuzFaverges (Haute-Savoie); by placement of the burials in Christian stone mausolea, as at St Julien-en-Genevois (Haute-Savoie) and others (see Map 3); and by decorated sarcophagi and Christian epigraphic and sculptured memorials (Sapin 1999, 36–60; Young 1999, 78–80). The emergence of the accompaniment of key male burials with elaborate belt buckles seems to mark elite rank or office, and it is unclear whether the inspiration for such badges of rank in southern Gaul came from Late Roman and Visigothic precedent or adoption of a northern ‘Frankish’ elite practice. Again, however, we are faced with the problem of knowing that many descendants of the existing Gallo-Roman elites probably retained at least some of their landed estates in southern Gaul but it is not clear whether dress accessories associated with high social rank, such as buckle sets, reflected control of landed resources as well as the holding of administrative offices. Modern logic would suggest, however, that control of resources to commission the building of stone mausolea reflected the existence of wealthy families who could convert agricultural surpluses into private and public memorial buildings and epigraphic monuments. During the

Expressions of leadership, AD 500–900

course of the later sixth and seventh centuries, however, swords, buckle sets and other weapons began to be deposited in male graves in southeastern Gaul. This was possibly a reflection of the political competition in the region between the Frankish kings and their Lombard counterparts (Young 1999). Hence, adoption of the northern fashion of furnished inhumation was a statement of overt ‘Frankish’ affiliation and a reflection of a regular military role for men within leading kinship groups in southeastern Gaul, and nothing to do with religious affiliation. There is no doubt, however, that the process of Christianisation in the different regions of western Europe did have an impact on the strategies used by elite groups to mark themselves out, and to help consolidate sometimes newly created positions of leadership. The construction of stone mausolea for predominantly unfurnished graves in sarcophagi is also found in northern Gaul from Normandy, at St Martin-de-Boscherville, to the Belgian Ardennes, at Hermalle-sous-Huy (Thier d’Olne) (Map 1), from the seventh century onwards (Witvrouw 1999, 105–8; Le Maho 2004, 49–53). Between the later sixth and mid seventh century, however, an increased number of furnished graves in sarcophagi were associated with Christian stone mausolea in southern France, especially in relation to buckle sets and fine accessory vessels, such as glass bowls, as at ‘La Chapelle’ Jau-Dignac et Loirac (Gironde) on the Atlantic coast (Map 3) (Cartron and Castex 2009, 154–63). It is assumed that the marking out of small groups of people by furnished burial and location within a stone funerary chapel marks an ‘aristocratic’ status. Richly furnished male and female graves dating from the late sixth to seventh centuries were also buried in funerary chapels at Hordain (Nord), Sint Servaas (Maastricht) and Valkenburg (Rhine delta, Netherlands); and in major basilica churches, such as Cologne Cathedral and Saint-Denis (Map 1) (Werner 1964, 201–16; Bult and Hallewas 1990, 71–89; Dierkens and Périn 1997; Fleury and France-Lanord 1998). In other instances, graves accompanied by fine seventh- and early eighth-century buckles and brooches were buried under barrows, as at Limerlé (Ardenne) (Map 1) (Lambert 1991, 183–5). And special graves were still being marked out by ring ditches or barrows in existing rowgrave cemeteries until the mid seventh century: for example, at Haillot (Namur) in the Meuse valley (Map 1) (Vanmechelen and Vrielynck 2009, 47–52). A key point to emphasise is that all these practices were in all probability equally Christian burial traditions. This is a point that is often ignored in the context of seventh-century Anglo-Saxon England, where up until very recently the general decline in numbers of furnished graves over

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the course of the seventh century has been viewed strictly as a consequence of the Christianisation of burial practices. Yet Burnell and James have long shown the value of comparative analogy with Continental evidence to avoid this insularity of view (Burnell and James 1999, 83–106). Some distinct choices were made by elites, however, in relation to religious affiliation to help define themselves between the later fifth and seventh centuries, and later. Overt association with the Christian church was expressed by some royal and aristocratic leaders of western Europe by the procurement of burial places within the sacred spaces of monasteries, sometimes close to the burial shrines of saints. This is seen from at least the sixth and seventh centuries on the Atlantic fringes of northwestern Europe (see Maps 1 and 5), as at Landevennec (Finistère) (Bardel and Perennec 2004, 121–58), Whithorn (Dumfries and Galloway) (Hill 1997), Clonmacnoise (Co. Offaly) (O’Floinn 1998, 87–100) and Llandough (Glamorgan) (Holbrook and Thomas 2005). It is also seen in West Francia (see Map 1) at the monasteries of St Martin of Tours and at Saint-Denis, in sixth- and seventh-century contexts (Wyss 1997, 111–14; Galinié and Theureau 2007, 91–101). Examples from Anglo-Saxon England are known from the 650s onwards (Maps 5 and 6), at the Northumbrian monasteries of Whitby (North Yorkshire) and Hartlepool (Co. Durham) (Loveluck 2007b, 204–8); and the Kentish kings were probably buried in one of the monastic establishments at Canterbury from the early seventh century (Gameson 1999, 34). In contrast to the close association with Christian authority made by some, choices of overt pagan association have also been suggested in other burial settings. Martin Carver has argued recently that the burial ‘tableaux’ from the ship-burials from mounds 1 and 2 at Sutton Hoo (Suffolk) should be regarded as deliberately constructed statements of affiliation with the pagan world of Scandinavia, by use of the ship-burial rite, directly paralleling contemporary ship-burials at Vendel and Valsgärde (Mälaren), in Sweden. Other artefacts, such as the helmet from mound 1, also have their closest parallels in Vendel and Valsgärde. Carver sees the deliberate affiliation with pagan Scandinavian elites in the context of confrontation with the influence of Christian and Frankish practices emanating from Kent, during the early decades of the seventh century (Carver 2005, 313). Much of this discussion has focussed on the difficulties of identifying elites below the level of royal lineages. The existence of kings and royal families is certain, however, despite potentially changing social and ideological foundations for those ‘kingships’, and the examples of the graves of Childeric, from Tournai (Belgium) (Brulet 1991, 184–92; Werner 1991,

Expressions of leadership, AD 500–900

14–22), Sutton Hoo, mound 1 (Carver 2005), the burials at Cologne Cathedral (James 1992, 247–8) and the Arnegunde grave from Saint-Denis (Fleury and France-Lanord 1998, 124–60; Gallien and Périn 2009, 203–26) provide us with our most likely mortuary reflections of royal families. Yet even these graves should not be regarded necessarily as reflections of secure royal dynasties. The Childeric grave, with its regalia, weaponry and sacrificial horse burials can be regarded as a statement of an insecure Merovingian family, prior to sixth-century consolidation. And Carver has alluded to the pressures on an Anglo-Saxon dynasty from East Anglia, potentially the Wuffingas, who chose to affiliate with a pagan and Scandinavian elite, in opposition to Christian Kent. Interestingly, Ambrosiani has also noted that the position of the Vendel and Valsgärde grave mounds is peripheral to the Mälaren region of Sweden, which is often supposed to have been the power-base of the people buried in the latter mounds (Ambrosiani 1983). So, it is possible that the Sutton Hoo and Vendel/Valsgärde graves represent insecurity of elite position, on the fringes of more established power, just as the Cologne burials could reflect the insecure position of a peripheral branch of the Merovingian family, or even another Frankish royal dynasty, on the fringes of their more powerful and established counterparts to the west.

Settlement evidence for hierarchical and functional differentiation of elites Burial practices and associations have been used most often to identify elites and explain their creation or transformation, between the later fifth and later seventh centuries. Yet the settlement evidence from northwest Europe provides a different perspective. The most striking aspect of the rural settlement data is the variability in the expression of any elite status. In the rural worlds of northern Gaul and Anglo-Saxon England, it is difficult to define any settlements that housed a secular elite until the late sixth century. Elite status does not appear to have been reflected in the architecture of residential or ancillary buildings, whether earth-fast buildings or Grubenhäuser. If one was ignorant of the statements of apparent rank made in cemeteries, one could conclude that the rural societies of sixth-century Anglo-Saxon England and northern Francia were egalitarian societies, without a developed or developing social hierarchy. Textual sources indicate the existence of ‘palaces’ of the Merovingian kings in Paris, Soissons and Tournai, within the former urban fabric of Roman towns, but their archaeological reflections have proved elusive to date.

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Perhaps this elusiveness is a reflection of our expectation that palace buildings should look distinctive, whereas Late Roman buildings of fourthand fifth-century date may have been reused, rendering recognition of Merovingian ‘palaces’ and comital residences very difficult. This is not the case, however, in Italy, in southern Gaul, on the Atlantic fringes of northwest Europe, or in southern Scandinavia, where rural centres certainly existed at the top of settlement hierarchies (see Maps 1, 3, 4, 5 and 6). In Italy, a range of new royal and aristocratic centres were founded, between the later fifth and mid sixth centuries AD. Examples include the possible Ostrogothic palace at Montebaro (Lombardy), focussed on a courtyard with porticoed ranges; and the royal fortress at Castelseprio (Varese), near Milan, both built in hilltop locations (Francovich and Hodges 2003, 52–5). Continuity of occupation at some former villa estate centres is also reflected in southern Gaul, in addition to those sites with mausolea. For example, at Poncin ‘La Châtelarde’ (Ain), a fourth-century villa continued to be occupied into the Carolingian period. An apsidal and porticoed, mortared stone building complex was replaced during the sixth century by rectangular buildings on dry-stone footings. The occupants enjoyed the products of a mixed farming regime, with cattle, sheep and pigs present. The higher proportion of pigs than normal, however, and the presence of deer, other wild animals, and riding gear, weapons and glass vessels, indicate a lifestyle of conspicuous consumption, free movement across the landscape and control of domestic and wild resources (Faure-Boucharlat et al. 2001, 141–76). In Wales and Cornwall, formerly within the Roman Empire, and in Scotland and Ireland, beyond it, many rural central places were also situated on fortified hilltops or in promontory locations. Examples include Tintagel (Cornwall) (Barrowman, Batey and Morris 2007); Dunadd (Argyll) (Lane and Campbell 2000); the Mote of Mark (Dumfries and Galloway) (Laing and Longley 2006); Dinas Powys (Glamorgan) (Alcock 1987); and Garranes and Garryduff, (both in Co. Cork) (O’Riordain 1941–2; O’Kelly 1962–4). Others include artificial island settlements (crannogs), such as Loch Glashan (Argyll) (Crone and Campbell 2005) and Lagore crannog (Co. Meath) (Hencken 1950). The majority of these settlements were occupied by the sixth century, although some, including Dunadd, Garryduff and Lagore Crannog, were founded in the seventh century. The defining characteristics of all these settlements are conspicuous consumption and control of resources: whether livestock, reflected especially at Dinas Powys, where pigs were the principal meat of choice (Gilchrist 1988, 50–62), or in patronage of specialist craft-working,

Expressions of leadership, AD 500–900

especially non-ferrous metalworkers. All these sites were also in receipt of products from the eastern Mediterranean, western Gaul and some possibly from Iberia, during the fifth and sixth centuries. These products included eastern Mediterranean and north African pottery tablewares and glass vessels from western Gaul, probably from the Bordeaux region and, possibly, Spain (Campbell 2007). There are also iconographic similarities in commemorative grave-markers between western France and the countries bordering the Irish Sea (Knight 1996, 109–20). The control of resources, the conspicuous consumption of livestock and ‘feasting kits’ from Gaul and the Mediterranean reflect the adoption of Late Antique ‘Roman’ elite practices by secular leaders in the least Romanised parts of northwest Europe, during the fifth and sixth centuries. Christianity was part of that elite ensemble. In southern Scandinavia, the situation was slightly different, in that the rural central places of the fifth to seventh centuries tended to be polyfocal settlements, consisting of pagan ritual elements and secular elite foci. During the sixth century, the religious elements normally focussed on ‘cult houses’ where votive offerings were made. Votive objects included gold plaques with incised images of gods or heavenly beings, such as valkyries, and other votive depositions of weapons sometimes occurred outside cult houses. Examples of such votive objects have been found at Gudme on Funen (Thrane 1991, 67–72), Sorte Muld (Bornholm) (Watt 1991, 89–107), Stavnsager (Jutland) and Uppåkra (Skåne) (Larsson 2004). The wider settlements associated with some of them had zones associated with metalworking and farming. Some of these settlements of a probable polyfocal nature, such as Stavnsager, covered an area of between 50 and 100 hectares by the early seventh century. From that period, some of the inhabitants of Stavnsager possessed metalwork and riding gear paralleled only in the Vendel and Valsgärde ship burials in Sweden, and links with Anglo-Saxon England, Frisia and Merovingian Francia are also demonstrated (Fiedel, Høilund-Nielsen and Loveluck 2011). Given the overt expression of both secular and religious elites in the later fifth- to seventh-century settlement hierarchies beyond Merovingian northern Francia and Anglo-Saxon England, it is surprising that equivalent secular elites, whose existence is suggested from the burial evidence, did not express themselves in the same way in the rural worlds of England, northern France, Belgium or the Rhineland until the early seventh century. One has to conclude either that the nature of power over land in England and northern Francia was different from Atlantic western Europe, southwest Europe and Scandinavia, or that the trappings of the material world of settlements and the rural landscape were simply used differently in England and northern

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Francia, which should warn us against the imposition of expected norms of behaviour from social evolutionary models. In the whole of Gaul, Iberia and Italy, however, reflections of both an existing and new religious elite are certainly evident in the archaeological record of the fifth and sixth centuries AD, in the form of Christian settlement complexes. Episcopal complexes of cathedrals, ancillary churches and other buildings are well known from the later fourth centuries onwards in the Continental provinces of the western Empire. The physical nature and the aggrandisement of these ‘Cathedral groups’ in the fifth and sixth centuries has been illustrated from excavations in France, Switzerland, Belgium, Spain and Italy, whether from Tours, Rouen, Geneva, Tongres, Barcelona, Córdoba and Milan, amongst others (Siena 1997; Beltrán de Heredia Bercero and Nicolau I Marti 1999; Bermúdez 2003; Le Maho 2006; Galinié 2007). They reflected the maintenance and extension of the religious and secular power of bishops in Continental western Europe during the fifth and sixth centuries AD. They also reflect one of the most demonstrative expressions of the maintenance of power by indigenous Roman provincial elites through ecclesiastical office. Specifically Christian settlements in the form of monasteries were also founded, between the fifth and seventh centuries, in Gaul, Italy and along the countries of the Atlantic fringe, including Ireland and northern Scotland, beyond the edge of the former Roman Empire. Monasteries that have seen campaigns of archaeological excavation in Gaul include St Martin of Tours (Galinié and Theureau 2007), Saint-Denis (Wyss 1997) and the Breton foundation at Landevennec (Bardel and Perennec 2004). Excavated examples from the northern Atlantic fringes include Whithorn (Dumfries and Galloway) (Hill 1997), Iona (Argyll) (Barber 1981) and Clonmacnoise (Co. Offaly) (King 1998) amongst others. Whereas the episcopal complexes reflected the power of bishops, monasteries seem to have reflected a wider and perhaps more personal interrelationship between secular and ecclesiastical leaders, through donations, procurement of burial places and the entry of leading members of secular families into monastic communities. Secular patronage of monasteries and integration within the same long-distance exchange networks is abundantly reflected archaeologically, during the fifth, sixth and seventh centuries. It is only from the early seventh century that signs of differentiation become evident in the secular rural settlement patterns of northern Francia and Anglo-Saxon England. They appear in the form of discrete settlements, or elements of settlements that have more demonstrable signs of wealth and planning, in terms of building size and settlement morphology,

Expressions of leadership, AD 500–900

Cemetery

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Figure 7 Plan of the settlement at Serris ‘Les Ruelles’, Seine-et-Marne

than the vast majority of their contemporaries. One of the best examples from northern France has been excavated at Serris ‘Les Ruelles’ (Seine-et-Marne) (Map 1), where a series of large rectangular buildings, constructed on dry-stone footings, were built facing a courtyard, in the early seventh century (Figure 7). A chapel was constructed in the same

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architectural style at the centre of a cemetery, approximately 300 m to its north. These seem to mark settlement and cemetery zones for a leading family. Other farmsteads and hamlets, with wooden buildings, were located along routeways to the east of the elite foci (see Figure 7). They may have been subordinate families, perhaps ‘tenants’ of the elite group. The artefact assemblage also shows differentiation, in the form of fine weapons, buckles, glass vessels and silver coinage, in the courtyard buildings and around the cemetery chapel, but a lesser level of wealth in the hamlets, during the seventh and eighth centuries (Foucray and Gentili 1998, 198–200; Gentili and Valais 2007, 101–7). It seems sensible to conclude that this settlement represents a secular estate centre and that the wealth of the leading family reflects control of land and its population. In recent years another early estate centre has been excavated at BiévilleBeuville (Calvados) (Map 1), where six buildings constructed on dry-stone footings, averaging 13–14 m by 6–7 m in dimensions, were laid out in two courtyards during the seventh century. The inhabitants also enjoyed a lifestyle of conspicuous consumption, including large quantities of glass vessels and riding gear. The settlement focus seems to have been shortlived, however, and was abandoned sometime in the eighth century (Zadora-Rio 2010, 89). Secular estate centres and their territories were also given to monastic founders for transformation into monasteries with increasing regularity from the mid seventh century, in northern Francia. For example, the villa centre of the estate of Sithieu became the Abbey of Saint Bertin, at modernday Saint Omer (Nord). The excavated settlement at Hamage (Nord) may also have been transformed from an estate centre, or at least part of one (Map 1). The only reliable indication that the settlement housed a monastery comes from a charter of Charles the Bald, dating from July 877 (Tessier et al. 1952, no. 435, 471–5). This document described the provisioning of both ‘sisters and brothers living in Hamage’ (Tessier et al. 1952, 474). On the basis of archaeological evidence, the settlement was founded during the mid seventh century, comprising small wooden buildings, within a ditched and palisaded enclosure. Between the later seventh and early eighth century, two churches were founded. The church of St Pierre was associated with a major burial focus; and the other, St Eusébie (now St Marie), was housed to the south within the existing ditched and palisaded enclosure (Louis and Blondiaux 2009, 120). To the south of the church of St Eusébie, within the enclosure, a large rectangular building was constructed (with dimensions of 19 m by 11 m) on an approximate east–west alignment, during the first half of the eighth

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century. This building, with indications of a continuous wooden sill foundation, was divided into a dozen small compartments or ‘cells’ and most had internal hearths (Louis 1997, 59–60; Louis and Blondiaux 2009, 120–1). A structure interpreted as a latrine was located outside the southern long wall, with a domestic oven nearby. Vast ash-rich refuse deposits had been dumped against the northern wall of the building and the enclosure ditch was also used for refuse disposal. Of note among the finds were fine ceramic goblets of the first half of the seventh century with scratched graffiti, one with the female name Aughilde; together with dress accessories, fragments of glass vessels, and crucibles with glass-working evidence. Finds from the ash dumps included ceramic bowls (one with the scratched name Bertrane) and pitchers, animal bones, textile-working debris and dress accessories. This has led the excavator to suggest that this building acted as the domestic quarters for female members of a religious community (Louis 1997, 60). A Frisian silver sceat coin, dating from the early to mid eighth century, a silver denier of Pippin the Short (754–68) and a denier of Charlemagne (768–96) were also recovered (Louis and Blondiaux 2009, 122). In the ninth century, these buildings were in turn replaced. The church of St Eusébie was rebuilt in stone or on a stone footing, graves were placed in a corridor outside the nave, and a series of large rectangular or trapezoidal wooden buildings were constructed around a cloister. These changes are dated to the ninth century on the basis of the ceramics, brooches and a denier of Louis the Pious, found in one of the buildings. This introduction of the cloister plan has been attributed to the influence of the monastic reforms of Louis the Pious in 816–17 (Louis and Blondiaux 2009, 122). Ecclesiastical institutions also possessed their own rural estates with focal centres, and one excavated example probably equating with such a centre has been excavated at Rigny-Ussé (Indre-et-Loire) (Map 1) (ZadoraRio and Galinié 2001). The settlement consisted of a stone church with several other mortared and dry-stone buildings during the seventh century. One of the buildings seems to have been constructed on a raised floor, perhaps for storage of the produce from the linked estate. The settlement has been identified with the centre of the colonica Riniaco, an estate of the monastery of St Martin of Tours (Zadora-Rio and Galinié 2001, 225–6). A possible episcopal estate centre has also been excavated in the south of France, at Le Roc de Pampelune ‘Argelliers’ (Hérault). The latter settlement dates from the sixth to seventh centuries, and like Rigny, storage of agricultural produce is a key feature, along with ironworking (Schneider 2003, 9–16). During the seventh century, the fundamental difference

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between an estate centre of a secular elite family and an estate centre of an ecclesiastical institution is reflected by consumption of an estate’s wealth at some secular centres, and storage of an estate’s wealth for redistribution to monastic or episcopal landowners at their ecclesiastical counterparts. For Anglo-Saxon England, the already mentioned settlements at Yeavering (Northumberland) and Cowdery’s Down (Hampshire) are the most often cited examples of estate centres, based on their structural remains. Both settlements possessed larger rectangular buildings and a greater degree of planning in layout than other contemporary settlements, and both exhibit controlled spaces defined by enclosures or enclosed areas linked to buildings (Hope-Taylor 1977; Millett and James 1983). Both date from the early seventh century in their developed forms, and Yeavering also possessed ceremonial and religious foci: a theatre-like structure for public address, a possible ‘pagan’ temple, and a church and cemetery from the mid seventh century (Hope-Taylor 1977). Neither settlement was wealthy in terms of discarded artefact remains. Greater opportunities to explore the emergence of elite lifestyles of consumption in the rural world of Anglo-Saxon England have only occurred since the mid 1990s, predominantly with evidence dating from the end of the seventh century onwards (see Chapter 7). During the first half of the seventh century, following conversion of Anglo-Saxon kings to Christianity, episcopal centres and monasteries were also founded in eastern Britain. A new metropolitan archiepiscopal centre was founded within the former Roman townscape at Canterbury (Map 5), which also housed a Kentish royal centre, following the Augustinian mission at the end of the sixth century (see Chapter 8) (Gameson 1999, 21). The foundation of the cathedral complex was followed very soon by the foundation of three monasteries outside the walls of the former Roman town, those of Sts Peter and Paul, St Pancras and St Martin (Cambridge 1999; Blair 2005). One of the monastic churches may have acted as a burial church for the newly converted Kentish dynasty. The cathedral and monastic churches were all built in mortared stone, the monumental form of display of the Roman Church. The seventh-century churches in Canterbury had architectural influences from across western Europe, including Italy and Gaul (Cambridge 1999). By the 640s, the kings of Bernicia in northeast England and southeast Scotland had been converted to the Irish tradition of Christianity, and new monastic centres were founded at places like Lindisfarne (Northumberland) and Hartlepool (Co. Durham) (Map 6). Indeed, the monastery of Lindisfarne became the episcopal see of the kingdom of Northumbria, until the later seventh century. Traditions of

Expressions of leadership, AD 500–900

monumental expression at these early monastic centres in Northumbria were very different from their Roman Christian counterparts. Principal churches and monastic buildings were not built in ostentatious masonry architecture. Monasteries like Lindisfarne and Hartlepool undoubtedly acted as Christian central places for their surrounding regions, however. They were centres of Christian literacy and tuition and patronised fine metalsmiths and sculptors of incised stone monuments. The Northumbrian monasteries also acted as much sought-after burial foci for members of leading aristocratic families and the wider secular population of Bernicia by the mid to late seventh century, like their southern counterparts (Loveluck 2007b). Excavations at Hartlepool, in particular, have illustrated the use of Northumbrian monasteries of this era as burial foci for different social groups and ranks. At ‘Cross Close’ a concentration of female graves marked with Christian inscribed namestones suggests the cemetery of the religious women of this double-house; while at ‘Church Walk’, a concentration of male graves suggests the monks’ cemetery (Daniels 2007). In different zones of the ‘Church Walk’ cemetery, distinct family groups were also represented, as was a zone for the graves of children and infants; and a further cemetery was also sited on ‘Gladstone Street’, beyond the monastic enclosure, possibly reflecting a lay population of insufficient wealth or status to procure graves close to the monastic cult foci. By the late 670s, and the adoption of Roman Christianity throughout Anglo-Saxon England, Roman traditions of Christian monumental display were also adopted in Northumbria, witnessed in the construction of the major monastic churches and communal buildings in mortared masonry at Jarrow and Monkwearmouth (Co. Durham) by Benedict Biscop, and the monastic churches at Hexham (Northumberland) and Ripon (North Yorkshire) by their abbot and bishop, Wilfrid (Eddius Stephanus, Chs. 17 and 22; Colgrave 1927, 34–7 and 44–7; Cramp 2006).

Representations of entangled royal, imperial and ecclesiastical power: the model of the Carolingians, AD 750–900 The emergence and identification of definable lifestyles of the highest secular and ecclesiastical elites have received much academic attention. The principal focus of study has been directed towards reflections of royal power and identity, and the entanglement between ecclesiastical and secular elite hierarchies at the highest levels of western European societies. In architectural, artistic and archaeological terms, reflections of royal and

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royal-linked ecclesiastical power are seen from the seventh century in northern Francia and Anglo-Saxon England, but especially so from the eighth and ninth centuries AD, the era of Carolingian hegemony. Hence, the study of Carolingian royal palaces, royal-sponsored monasteries and the physical reflection of Carolingian imperial aspirations have received most academic attention in Continental northwest Europe. Similarly, settlements, art and architecture linked to royalty or key ecclesiastical institutions have been principal themes of study for scholars studying seventh- to ninth-century England. Some summary analysis of the archaeological and monumental reflections of the highest elites of northwest Europe and their actions has to be presented, therefore, in order to understand some of the emulative practices that cascaded down the ranks from kingdom-wide aristocrats to local notables. The Carolingian conquests under Charlemagne and their consolidation by Louis the Pious resulted in the creation of a Carolingian imperial hegemony over much of western and central Europe. Their conquests were endorsed by the papacy through the crowning of Charlemagne and his ninth-century successors as ‘emperors’. The creation of this overarching political hegemony, and the Carolingian self-perception of themselves as heirs to the Roman emperors of the past, resulted in their creation of paramount central places in particular regions. These central places were constructed using particular architectural ‘templates’ and overt Roman imperial symbolism. They are generally described as royal palaces. Alongside palace complexes, the Carolingians also patronised key monasteries and were keen advocates of the Benedictine reforms, simultaneously reforming monasteries and canonical orders; the latter communities were often associated with cathedrals in diocesan towns. The key royal-sponsored monasteries were the alter ego of palaces in their physical creation and support of a Carolingian imperial identity that was, in many respects, external to and imposed upon the patchwork of polities and regions under their direct hegemony. A good sample of palaces has now been the subject of archaeological excavation, providing a greater insight into lifestyles of everyday living and provisioning at these centres, to place alongside the architectural and historical analyses of their symbolic roles (Untermann 1999; Airlie 2000; Lobbedey 2003). They have two broad concentrations, in terms of geographical location: namely, northeastern France, from Paris to Compiègne; and the central Rhineland. Both concentrations reflect key resource heartlands and areas of political control for the Carolingians, and hence key regions for the projection of imperial identity. The Rhineland

Expressions of leadership, AD 500–900

concentration was certainly the most symbolically important, and analysis of standing remains at Aachen, alongside excavations at Ingelheim (Rheinland-Pfalz) (Grewe 1998a, 25–36, 1999a, 142–51), Frankfurt (Orth 1985; Grewe 1998b, 102–3) and an eastern outlier at Paderborn (Gai 1999a, 183–96), in Westphalia provide the best evidence. Five Carolingian palaces have been targeted for excavation in northeastern France: Saint-Denis (Wyss 1999, 138–41, 2001, 191–200) and Compiègne (Petitjean 1999a, 157–65, 1999b, 98–9) most recently; and Quierzy, Attigny and Samoussy, in the Aisne valley, were excavated in the mid twentieth century (Renoux 1999, 130–7). These ‘palace’ settlements were situated both in rural situations and within former Roman townscapes, as at Paris and Frankfurt. However, the extent to which the latter spaces were ‘urban’ is debatable; and the palaces are best considered as one element among several in the range of polyfocal settlements in those former townscapes that gained larger and more diverse populations through the ninth and tenth centuries, due to the presence of different core elements of power and patronage (Petitjean 1999a, 157–9; Loveluck 2005, 253–4). All the palaces possessed a hall (aula) and chapel at their ceremonial and functional cores, whether in rural settings or in former Roman towns. The palace hall at Aachen was 44 m by 17 m in size (Untermann 1999, 161); the hall at Ingelheim was 59.8 m by 11 m (Grewe 1999a, 147) and the example at Saint-Denis was over 50 m by 14 m (Wyss 1999, 140). The palaces also exhibit the reuse of Roman and Byzantine materials specific to imperial buildings and monuments, such as the use of marbles and porphyry at Aachen, Ingelheim, Paderborn and Compiègne, cut for use in opus sectile friezes; Antique and new columns at Aachen; and Antique and new column capitals at Ingelheim (Peacock 1997, 709–15). Redpainted plaster decoration is also a recurrent feature at Saint-Denis, Ingelheim and Paderborn, including painted inscriptions using Roman uncial script. Stone aqueducts have even been excavated at Saint-Denis (Figure 8) and Ingelheim, and although they may not have functioned over a long period, they are yet another expression of late eighth- to mid ninth-century Roman imperial aspiration by the Carolingians (Haupt 1998, 48–55; Wyss 1999, 140–1). Charlemagne’s construction or renovation of the Roman lighthouse in Boulogne can be viewed within the same light. It is also interesting to note that in a different context of ‘imperial’ display, roughly contemporary with the Carolingians, the Islamic emirs of Al-Andalus also reused Antique columns, marbles and other Roman–Byzantine decorative fashions in the Great Mosque at Córdoba (Hernández 1975). Hence, both of the most powerful ruling families in western Europe of the later eighth

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Figure 8 Plan of the Carolingian monastery–palace settlement at Saint-Denis, Paris

and ninth centuries used Roman and Byzantine imperial symbolism contemporaneously, to create a unifying ‘glue’ to bind diverse ethnic and regional groups under single governing entities. The excavations from Paderborn, Ingelheim and Saint-Denis currently provide the clearest reflection of lifestyles in association with the imperial halls of palaces. All reflect conspicuous consumption of resources, both of their localities and regions, and also of objects derived via long-distance exchange. The gravitational pull of animal resources from subordinate estates or the palace estates themselves is shown most clearly at Paderborn, where the proportion of pigs – the food of elites par excellence in Francia – is huge in relation to surrounding settlements from the region. The pigs were killed when young, at the time when the meat was of its best quality. Exceptionally, lamb was also consumed at Paderborn, whereas on

Expressions of leadership, AD 500–900

lower-order settlements sheep were only consumed when they were mature, after wool production (Doll 1999, 445–9). Consumption of optimum-quality meat was also accompanied by copious drinking, within the context of feasting. Over 340 fragments of smashed glass vessels, mostly funnel beakers for drinking, were found in the hall at Paderborn, alongside pottery finewares imported from the middle Rhineland: Tating and Badorf wares (Gai 1999b, 213–16; Grothe 1999a, 209–10). Some of the glass vessels were probably imported from the middle Rhineland but others could have been made at Paderborn, as glassworking debris and tesserae for the production of glass vessels were found in a palace workshop, and over 1,600 fragments of window glass were recovered from the hall (Wedepohl 1999, 218–21). The key social practice of hunting is also reflected at Paderborn but its evidence may be inflated to a certain extent, as some wild boar bones can be indistinguishable from pigs. Nevertheless, wild boar and deer are represented. The recovery of bear claws at the palace could also reflect hunting but their presence alone is more likely to reflect the wearing of a bear-skin cloak (Wigh 1998, 85–6; Doll 1999, 448). Similar feasting practices are suggested at other palaces, with reticella-decorated glass drinking vessels also recovered from Saint-Denis, alongside Tating ware (Wyss 1999, 2001). Administration and royal facilitation of exchange through coinage are also demonstrated, with the presence of styli for accounting (and schooling), balances and mints at the palaces. As the administrative and consuming centres at the heart of networks of estates, these central settlements often formed the kernels around which towns developed. In West Francia, a significant number of the palaces or principal residences of the sixth- and seventh-century Merovingian kings were located within the spaces of former Roman towns and other Late Antique settlement foci, as at Paris, Soissons, Rheims, Tournai, Metz, possibly Château Thierry and others (Blary 1999, 55; Verslype 1999, 147–50; Roussel 2002). Under the Carolingian dynasty, however, it is unclear whether all of these residences were still maintained. The palace on the Île-de-la-Cité in Paris certainly continued to be a residence, and regular presence of Carolingian kings in towns such as Soissons suggests that the Merovingian royal palaces were occupied, albeit perhaps granted to counts who housed and entertained the royal household when it arrived. Alternatively, royal residences were built at major monastic central places, as at Saint-Denis (Figure 8). Palaces, therefore, were elements of existing polyfocal administrative settlements sometimes referred to by contemporaries as ‘towns’, as much as they were features of the rural landscape.

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There were also rural royal estate centres that became palaces during the course of the Carolingian period, especially during the ninth century. Perhaps the best example of this occurrence in West Francia is provided by Compiègne (Map 1). The Merovingian royal estate centre at Compiègne is documented from AD 561, and from the reign of Louis the Pious it was the most frequented centre of the network of residences in the Oise and Aisne valleys. After the division of the Carolingian Empire in 843, Compiègne became the principal residence of Charles the Bald, the West Frankish king and for a short time the Emperor of all Carolingian lands, who reigned from 840 to 877. It remained the main royal residence of the kings of West Francia until the death of Hugh Capet in 996. Its importance as the principal royal and imperial centre was emphasised by Charles the Bald in his construction of a rotunda palatine chapel, modelled on that built by Charlemagne at Aachen, and ultimately on the Church of the Holy Sepulchre of Constantine the Great. The settlement then gained a series of ecclesiastical settlement foci and a population of artisans and merchants servicing the needs of the palace, presumably alongside the agricultural households already providing renders to the estate centre/palace (Coste 2000, 26). The regularity of royal presence and the accruing of settlement elements thus resulted in a transformation from rural estate centre to a populous and diverse settlement with multiple functions that by the late ninth to early tenth century could be interpreted as a town (Petitjean 1999a, 157). It is unclear, however, whether the population of Compiègne possessed the self-perception of living in a single urban community by that date. The distinction between a rural royal estate centre and a royal palace is likely to have been a function of the regularity of visitation by royal households. Those settlements labelled as palaces at Verberie, Quierzy, Samoussy, Corbeny and Attigny in the Oise and Aisne valleys (Map 1), close to Compiègne, were also probably estate centres upgraded to palace status (Renoux 1999, 133–6). The same occurred at Ingelheim (RheinlandPflaz), in the Rhineland, during the reign of Charlemagne (Grewe 1998, 32–3). Again, this reflects regularity of royal presence and location within key royal itineraries and estate networks, sometimes labelled Königslandschaften or ‘kingly landscapes’ (Airlie 2000, 10). In the case of Ingelheim, the settlement was an important centre within the key imperial itineraries of Charlemagne and Louis the Pious, focussed on Aachen and Frankfurt, between the 770s and 840. The Oise and Aisne valley palaces represent a similar network of centres in the royal heartland of West Francia, focussed on Compiègne, between 840 and 996. The latter centre, however, was to monopolise royal presence in West Francia to a much

Expressions of leadership, AD 500–900

greater extent than was the case with Aachen, Frankfurt or Magdeburg in the East Frankish and Ottonian realms, during the ninth and tenth centuries, to the point that some have labelled Compiègne the ‘capital’ of West Francia in those centuries (Petitjean 1999a, 157). In her analysis of the physical reflections of the Carolingian royal itinerary in the Aisne valley, in northern France, Annie Renoux has also noted that the royal estate centres and palaces, with their halls, one or more churches and ancillary buildings became progressively surrounded by more substantial defensive enclosures from the mid to late ninth century. Documentary evidence shows that such changes were instigated by Charles the Bald at Compiègne, and possibly also at Quierzy (Nelson 1992, 230–1). Others were constructed at Corbeny (Aisne) and Laon (Aisne), and a tower was also added at the latter centre before the mid tenth century (Renoux 1999, 134–6). Around AD 870, Charles the Bald is also recorded as having fortified the palace–monastery complex at Saint-Denis, and the programme of archaeological excavations conducted there has identified elements of a stone and wooden rampart and an encircling moat, fed by a water channel 7 kilometres in length. The area enclosed was approximately 400 m by 500 m, with a circular street tracing the circumference approximately 20 m inside the ring-work defences (Figure 8) (Wyss 1999, 141, 2001, 195–6). This probably enclosed the attendant lay settlement as well as the monastic and palace complexes. In its form, the large ring-work fortification bears some similarity to the ring-forts constructed along the Channel and southern North Sea coasts, at the end of the ninth century (Henderikx 1995, 94–101). Such an action of construction by Charles the Bald at Saint-Denis reflected social control of labour and royal power as much as the strength of defences. Indeed, as a defensive barrier the moat could have been slighted without difficulty by cutting or filling its supply channel, so its use as a display feature probably far exceeded its practical value, as was the case with the short-lived late eighth- to mid ninth-century aqueduct at Saint-Denis. The projection of royal and imperial identity throughout the Frankish realms using silver coinage was also of considerable importance and in the early period of Carolingian imperium, in the reigns of Charlemagne and Louis the Pious, gold solidus coins were occasionally struck in direct emulation of Roman and Byzantine imperial practice. One solidus of Charlemagne, struck at Arles, was found at Ingelheim, in 1996 (Martin 1998, 37–47). In the striking of occasional gold coinage, the Carolingians were indulging in a practice followed by their imperial brothers in Byzantium and Córdoba. Indeed, King Offa of Mercia, a contemporary and ally of Charlemagne and the aspirant to political hegemony in

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Anglo-Saxon England, also struck or received a gold coin issue, perhaps as a symbol of his imperium in England. It is interesting to note, however, that the bust and legend, Offa Rex, reflects Roman inspiration but the gold coin was struck using a die (or a copy of one) of a dinar from Syria, with an Arabic legend (Scarfe-Becket 2003, 1–2 and 54). The construction of the linear earthwork running on a north–south axis along the eastern frontier of Wales, known as ‘Offa’s Dyke’, can also be viewed as a symbolic and de facto representation of Offa’s power, in its conceptual and physical referencing of the Roman frontier boundaries of Hadrian’s Wall and the Antonine Wall, in northern England and Scotland respectively. The final link in the promotion of Carolingian imperial identity as a model of political control in Christian western Europe is provided by royal sponsorship of existing monasteries, and new Carolingian foundations following the Benedictine reforms of monastic and canonical orders from the late eighth century. Those existing monasteries patronised by the Carolingians very quickly adopted the physical expressions of the ‘unifying’ political vehicle, provided by the Carolingian ‘Roman imperium’. We see reconstruction of existing monasteries, as at St Bavo’s, Ghent (East Flanders), using porphyry and Roman-style column capitals; and at the abbey of Lorsch (Hesse) (Map 4), with Roman-inspired ceremonial gates (Figure 9) (Sanke 2007). There was also huge expansion of especially favoured monasteries, as at the aforementioned Saint-Denis, which had a royal hall constructed next to the basilica and burial chapels in the late eighth century, and became a key mausoleum for the Carolingian dynasty, housing the graves of Charles Martel, Pippin III and Charles the Bald (Wyss 1997, 2001). The influence of the Carolingian promotion of the Benedictine reforms can also be seen at existing major monasteries with the construction of new cloister plans, as at Landevennec in Brittany (Map 1) (Bardel and Perennec 2004, 136–42). The power of the royal-sponsored monasteries to reinforce Carolingian ideas of imperial order can also be seen in the Roman-style monumental architecture and symbolism of foundations, such as Corvey (Stephan 1994, 207–16; Lobbedey 1999), east of the Rhine, in newly conquered Saxony; thereby, taking the Carolingian perception of what was Roman further east than the Romans had themselves. The scale of the networks of contact of the major monasteries can also be seen vividly in the evidence of their local and regional links within the Carolingian Empire and also in the objects and materials they used and attracted from the Mediterranean and Asia. The collection of relics at the monastery of Chelles (Île-de-France) (Map 1) encased in fragments of silk shows the ability of the monastery to attract exotic raw materials. The silks

Expressions of leadership, AD 500–900

Figure 9 The gatehouse of the monastery at Lorsch, Westphalia

from Chelles were from a variety of sources, including reused Late Roman silks, but the majority came from the Byzantine Empire, the Islamic Middle East, Central Asia and possibly China, and date from the seventh and eighth centuries. They were linked primarily to charters of gift from the second half of the eighth century (Laporte 1988, 117–50). It is assumed that further ninth-century relics have been lost. The relics may have been gifted to the monastery by both secular and ecclesiastical patrons, so they need not reflect merely ecclesiastical networks but rather those of richer patrons in general, and those who travelled widely within the context of pilgrimage and trade (McCormick 2001, 308–14). For example, within the context of a pilgrimage to Rome in 855, gifts of king Æthelwulf of Wessex to Pope Benedict III included a silk dalmatic with gold brocade and a silk alb also embroidered with gold, in addition to a gold crown, two gold bowls, two gold figurines, and a sword with gold fittings (Vita Benedicti III, Ch. 34, ed. Duchesne 1892, 148). Many of the pigments to provide the colours for manuscript illumination at major monastic scriptoria provide evidence for a very similar range

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of communications to the Mediterranean as those suggested by silks. Manuscripts most overtly associated with promotion of Carolingian imperial identity and imperial symbolism included royal gospel books written on purple-dyed vellum in gold lettering, and psalters with multicoloured images of the crowned emperors, such as those for Lothar and Charles the Bald, produced at St Martin of Tours, emulating the representation of fourth-century Christian emperors, as on the Theodosius Silver Diptych. The purples were produced from the Kermes beetle from southern Europe. The gold was procured from residual supplies in northern Europe or was imported from Italy and from Byzantine and Islamic territories. Blues were mostly obtained from the mineral azurite, which can be found in the south of France; reds were made by roasting white lead and from cinnabar – the ore of mercury, mostly found in Spain but also at Mount Amiata, in Italy, or the dye-plant madder from southern France was used for less vivid reds. Yellows were made from orpiment (arsenic sulphide) imported from Asia Minor, and possibly active volcanic regions of Italy; and from lead oxides, saffron and yellow ochres (McKitterick 1989, 143–6). The sources of these materials span the Mediterranean, and the use of incense throughout western Christendom provides yet another link with the Islamic world, with this tree resin being traded northwards and westwards from Oman and Yemen (McCormick 2001, 587). Networks for the procurement of these commodities and arrangements with merchants need not have been limited to ecclesiastical networks. These materials were also used in the major royal-sponsored monastic scriptoria of Anglo-Saxon England, Scotland and Ireland. In this context, it is pertinent to note that orpiment, the arsenic sulphide that gives a yellow colour in manuscript illuminations, was found during excavations at Dunadd (Argyll), one of the key secular centres of the Kingdom of Dalriada, in western Scotland, whose elites were closely associated with the monastery of Iona (Lane and Campbell 2000). In this case, the orpiment seems to have been obtained via secular maritime networks for the provisioning of the monastic scriptorium. McKitterick (1989) has noted that elements of landholdings of monasteries with major scriptoria must have been given over to their provisioning, for example, for vellum. Again, however, gifts from secular patrons may also have played a significant role. The combined evidence from the architectural, archaeological and iconographic representations of Carolingian imperial identity, and its influence on practices of leadership bordering the Empire, provides a carefully constructed image of rulers with a huge gravitational pull on resources, enabled by networks of patronage and exchange that spanned

Expressions of leadership, AD 500–900

Europe and the Mediterranean, and into Asia. The representations of their display in architecture, monumental inscriptions and manuscripts also reflected the ceremonial look and practices of the Carolingians themselves, from their silk clothes to the imported spices they used to flavour their food (Scott 2007, 16–20). Many elements of this imperial persona were not new to early medieval northwest Europe. Silks had been arriving from Byzantium and central Asia in the seventh and eighth centuries before the establishment of Carolingian hegemony, as had exotic dyes for manuscript illumination and spices for flavouring the food of the highest elites, even in the northernmost parts of Europe. Wilfrid had procured purple and silk vestments for his monastic church at Hexham in the 670s (Eddius Stephanus Ch. 22, Colgrave 1927, 46–7). Dill and coriander, possibly from Aquitaine, were found in association with madder-stained pots at the monastery of Whithorn and at the lake-dwelling of Buiston Crannog (Ayrshire) in Scotland; and Bede kept a supply of pepper from India or Indonesia and incense from Oman, at the monastery at Jarrow (Campbell 1996, 92; McCormick 2001, 709). The key difference on the part of the Carolingians was the combined use of all the above elements in a much greater volume, alongside the deliberate emulation of Christian Roman imperial symbolism. This was enacted in the face of two other imperial entities in western Europe, who also used many of the same symbols as markers of their authority, not just the Byzantine successors of the eastern Roman emperors but also the Umayyad emirs, and later caliphs, of Al-Andalus in Islamic Iberia.

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7 Conspicuous consumption and secular authority

in the landscape, AD 650–900

Secular centres of consumption, display and administration In the past twenty years, the search for the mid seventh- to late ninthcentury settlement hierarchies of the ‘middling’ elites of northern Francia and Anglo-Saxon England has been influenced by the pursuit of particular research themes. For Anglo-Saxon England, huge emphasis has been given to the importance of monasteries or ‘minsters’ as key settlement foci, and their impact on structuring society and landscape (Blair 2005). For Francia, between the Rivers Rhine and Loire, much attention has been focussed towards the development of immunities and bipartite great estates (Devroey 2006). At the same time, these interests have been confronted by a wealth of new data from archaeological excavations. Discoveries, predominantly since the mid 1980s, have begun to allow the identification and analysis of the lifestyles of a broad range of the social leadership for AngloSaxon England, West Francia and northern and central Italy, in particular. The spectrum of elites represented archaeologically could reflect both an office-holding and landowning aristocracy at the level of a kingdom-scale elite, and also regional landowners and local notables with smaller holdings (Gentili and Valais 2007; Loveluck 2009; Zadora-Rio 2010). In the discussion below, lifestyles evident at estate centres that acted as foci for consumption are explored, examining their staged practices of display and, as a corollary, their gravitational pull upon the products of their subordinate territories, and also their wider networks to procure all the trappings associated with staged events.

Anglo-Saxon England and West Francia compared

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In England, the analysis of the settlements of Flixborough (Lincolnshire), Portchester Castle (Hampshire), Wicken Bonhunt (Essex) and ongoing study of the settlement at ‘Staunch Meadow’, Brandon (Suffolk) (Map 5) have been especially influential in establishing the material signatures and social practices of aristocratic centres of consumption in the rural world

Conspicuous consumption and secular authority

(Loveluck 2007a). The settlements at Portchester Castle and Wicken Bonhunt were excavated during the 1960s and 1970s. At that time their characteristics were not used to challenge the evidence from Yeavering (Northumberland) as the type-site for a royal or aristocratic estate centre. Portchester Castle had a stable occupation sequence extending from the fifth to the eleventh century, without a break (Cunliffe 1976). From the later seventh to ninth centuries, there is evidence of integration with Continental Europe and practices of provisioning and consumption indicative of a settlement that pulled in the resources of a linked territory. The principal domesticated animal consumed was cattle and most were adult or sub-adult (Grant 1976), an optimum age to have been delivered ‘on the hoof’ to an estate centre as taxation-in-kind or possibly for sale. Imported glass vessel fragments, including a reticella-decorated piece, and Badorf tableware pottery indicated display ‘dining’. Possession of an imitative gold solidus of Louis the Pious also marked wealth and integration within cross-Channel and southern North Sea networks with Frisia or Francia. The distribution of imitative solidi of Louis the Pious in England closely mirrors the distribution of single finds of Carolingian deniers of the later eighth to mid ninth century (Story 2003, 251–2). The settlement at Wicken Bonhunt also possessed very similar patterns of provisioning and consumption, between the mid seventh and later ninth centuries (Wade 1980). The cattle were also old when killed as at Portchester but at Wicken Bonhunt the proportion of pigs consumed was higher than that of cattle. This could be a reflection of a particular cluster of pig bones in one ditch, however (Crabtree 1996, 58–75). Like Portchester, Wicken Bonhunt was also integrated within exchange networks stretching to Francia; a high proportion of its pottery was imported from the Continent. Both settlements also contained significant numbers of wild animals, especially birds, indicative of hunting, netting and, perhaps, falconry (Dobney and Jacques 2002). Both the settlements at Portchester Castle and Wicken Bonhunt can be classified as settlements that controlled and consumed the agricultural and livestock products of linked territories, presumably estates. They were located on the Channel coast and in the hinterland of the Thames estuary, respectively, close to communications routes with Francia. This may well account for their ability to gain access to luxury vessels for display in dining, through conversion of surpluses into commodities by gift- or barter-exchange. Inland situation and hence greater distance from exchange routes with the Continent could account for a commensurate lack of imported goods at the suggested estate centres at Yarnton

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(Oxfordshire) (Hey 2004) and Higham Ferrers (Northamptonshire) (Hardy, Charles and Williams 2007). However, other possible temporary sites for trade and craft-working in the middle Thames valley, at Dorney (Buckinghamshire), did have access to imported Continental pottery and glass vessels (Foreman, Hiller and Petts 2002). It is more likely, therefore, that the principal functions of the Yarnton and Higham Ferrers settlements between the seventh and later ninth centuries were to provide agricultural produce and livestock for consumption elsewhere (Hardy, Charles and Williams 2007, 198–206). While there are emerging patterns in terms of secular elite lifestyles of consumption, production and storage, no typical settlement morphology has emerged, associated with consuming settlements. Portchester Castle seemed to enjoy a relatively unplanned layout, with rectangular timber buildings and some sunken-featured buildings/Grubenhäuser. No principal building was apparent in the excavated area and the largest buildings were between 10 and 14 m in length. Wicken Bonhunt, in contrast, has a broadly axial or linear plan, again with no principal residential building until, perhaps, the later ninth century (Figure 10). From the late 1980s and 1990s, this situation became further complicated by the excavation of undocumented settlements at Flixborough (Loveluck 2007a) near the Humber estuary, and ‘Staunch Meadow’, Brandon (Carr, Tester and Murphy 1988, 371–7), which had traits in common with both the settlements at Portchester Castle and Wicken Bonhunt, and documented monasteries (see Map 5). Initially, both the former settlements were labelled by historians, in particular, as monasteries, primarily on the basis of the presence of styli (Yorke 1993, 141–50; Blair 1996b, 6–18). Analysis and publication of Brandon is still in progress, but detailed analysis of the Flixborough evidence has allowed for lifestyles and transformations to be identified over its seventh- to early eleventh-century history. An axial plan is evident, not dissimilar to Wicken Bonhunt, with two and sometimes three lines of buildings situated on a sand spur, overlooking the floodplain of the River Trent. Critical for interpretation of lifestyle patterns was the use of specific areas for refuse dumping on a vast scale, for example, areas around buildings and also the terminal of a shallow valley (talweg) that ran into the centre of the site. Thousands of artefacts and hundreds of thousands of animal bones were discarded. Some of the refuse originated from the excavated buildings but most was brought into this communal refuse dumping area from the settlement as a whole, between the late seventh and early eleventh centuries (Loveluck and Atkinson 2007).

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Figure 10 Plan of the settlement at Wicken Bonhunt, Essex, between the mid seventh and later ninth centuries

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Between the late seventh century and the end of the eighth century, the predominant lifestyle at Flixborough can be characterised as one of conspicuous consumption of domesticated and wild animal resources, associated with luxury objects primarily concerned with feasting. Rectangular buildings, most between 13 and 15 m in length, and 6 to 7.5 m in width, were placed in a linear axial manner along the summit of two sand promontories, overlooking the floodplain and delta of the River Trent, which flows into the Humber estuary 8 kilometres to the north. The River Trent is navigable below Flixborough and the Humber estuary was the principal entry point into northern England for items derived from Continental Europe, between the Iron Age and early Middle Ages. Its axial plan has some similarities with seventh-century Yeavering and also with Wicken Bonhunt. During the later seventh and eighth centuries, the occupants or at least the leading lineage of the Flixborough settlement were consuming large quantities of cattle, most of which were adult or sub-adult, with smaller quantities of pig and sheep (Dobney et al. 2007b). The age range of the cattle and the near absence of young animals suggests that cattle were being brought to the settlement ‘on the hoof’, probably from subordinate landholdings. Alongside the consumption of domesticated livestock, a comparatively large range of wild food species was also consumed. These included large numbers of cranes and other wildfowl, and also dolphins (Dobney et al. 2007b). Cranes, large birds occupying wetland fringes, and dolphins are documented as particularly favoured species for hunting and consumption during feasts, on the part of the Anglo-Saxon aristocracy (Tangl 1916, no. 105, 231; Gardiner 1997, 175; Hooke 1998, 51). Recent opinion in England has tended towards the view that dolphins, porpoises and larger whales would have been harvested as beach strandings (Gardiner 1997). Yet the obligation to regularly render porpoises to the episcopal manor at Tidenham (Gloucestershire) in the early eleventh century suggests that they were hunted from ships, as the ability to rely on regular fresh strandings seems implausible; and by c. 1000, the ‘typical’ fisherman of the Colloquy of Ælfric, abbot of Eynsham (Oxfordshire), was certainly hunting/fishing for porpoises (Swanton 1975, 171–2). Since there was little difference in the maritime technology to pursue dolphins and porpoises between the eighth and early eleventh centuries, it seems most sensible to suggest that the Flixborough examples were actively procured through hunting. Ostentatious consumption during feasting also accounts for the large number of glass drinking vessels at late seventh- to eighth-century Flixborough, imported from Continental Europe (Figure 11). Contacts

Conspicuous consumption and secular authority

Figure 11 Reticella-decorated glass drinking vessel fragments from Flixborough, Lincolnshire (scale  1.5)

with Frisia, the Rhineland, Belgium and northern France are attested by sceatta and denier coinage and pottery, as well as the glass vessels, during this period. Agricultural activity is demonstrated by a range of discarded iron tools, including a ploughshare. Craft-working evidence was relatively limited, although ferrous and non-ferrous metalworking was undertaken, alongside woodworking and textile manufacture. Conspicuous consumption of the resources of the land was paramount, aided by exotic ‘feasting kits’ procured through direct contacts with foreign mariners coming to the Humber estuary (Loveluck 2012). The Flixborough settlement is undocumented but the character of lifestyles during the later seventh and eighth centuries, focussed on feasting and hunting, suggests that it was a secular aristocratic estate centre to which the resources of a significant territory were delivered for consumption. A large principal residence or ‘hall’ did not exist, however, and all the rectangular residential buildings yielded glass drinking vessel fragments from floor deposits within them. An extended aristocratic family

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is suggested, with different component households of the kindred group living in different buildings, perhaps divided on the basis of age, gender and kinship distance. This absence of a principal residential and public building for the leading element on the settlement might seem surprising, when one considers the recurrent attention given to feasting, apparently in a principal ‘hall’ belonging to a lord in Anglo-Saxon textual sources, surviving predominantly in tenth- and eleventh-century manuscripts (Donoghue 2004; Gautier 2006; Lebecq 2009). Yet the presence of a principal residential building that could serve as the house of a leader and venue for large-scale public feasting is extremely rare on settlements in Anglo-Saxon England, prior to the late ninth century. One can cite examples of large principal buildings, with annexes, from Milfield (Northumberland), Atcham (Shropshire) and ‘Cowage Farm’, Foxley, near Malmesbury (Wiltshire) (Maps 5 and 6), all known from aerial photographs, and all thought to date from the seventh to early eighth centuries, rather than the eighth to ninth centuries (James, Marshall and Millett 1984; Hinchliffe 1986; Gates and O’Brien 1988). A likely principal rectangular building (C12), 22 m by 8.8 m in size, was excavated at Cowdery’s Down (Hampshire), and the eastern end of another has been excavated at Sutton Courtenay (formerly Berkshire, now Oxfordshire), which was 9 m wide and probably 19 m long (Millett and James 1983, 215; Hamerow, Hayden and Hey 2007, 160). Both the latter buildings also probably date from the seventh century (Hamerow et al. 2007, 187). At Sutton Courtenay, a pair of large rectangular buildings is also evident from aerial photographs, constructed on an axial alignment, to the northwest of the excavated example, but their date is currently unknown within the Anglo-Saxon period. The rectangular and annexed-rectangular buildings from sites like Yeavering are often called ‘halls’ in studies by scholars of Anglo-Saxon England, despite the fact that these buildings were probably too small to have acted as venues for the scale of feasting imagined from Old English literature, such as Beowulf. This likelihood is emphasised further when one remembers that the often-quoted lengths of the largest buildings from Yeavering, at c. 25 m, include the additional annexes that were probably not parts of the public feasting space within the buildings (Hope-Taylor 1977). The only buildings from Anglo-Saxon England that are large enough to have acted as public eating venues for significant feasting, prior to AD 850, are the large rectangular stone buildings at Northampton (Northamptonshire) and Jarrow (Co. Durham), the former interpreted by Williams as a royal ‘hall’, and the latter interpreted by Cramp as a

Conspicuous consumption and secular authority

monastic refectory (Williams, Shaw and Denham 1985; Cramp 2006). John Blair has also interpreted the Northampton building as a monastic refectory, however, on the grounds of its proximity to St Peter’s church (Blair 1996a). Nevertheless, all these Anglo-Saxon examples were smaller than both Carolingian royal halls (see Chapter 6) and those from aristocratic and cult centres in southern Scandinavia, at sites such as Tissø and Lejre on Sjælland, Denmark. At Tissø, the principal wooden ‘hall’ was 36 m by 10 m, between the eighth and early tenth century, prior to being enlarged to 48 m by 12.5 m in the tenth century (Jørgensen 2002, 231–5). And at Lejre, the ‘hall’ (house IV) was 48 m by 8.5 m between the end of the seventh and tenth centuries, but it may not have been the only hall of such dimensions, as three others were found 125 m to the north of house IV in 2009 (Christensen 2010, 242–6). The pattern of multiple residential buildings seen at Flixborough, collectively probably housing an aristocratic extended family, is also seen at other places thought to represent secular estate centres, such as Portchester Castle and Wicken Bonhunt, during their seventh- to ninth-century phases. Similar provisioning and consumption patterns of domesticated livestock to those at later seventh- and eighth-century Flixborough were also seen at Portchester and Wicken Bonhunt (Grant 1976, 275; Crabtree 1996, 65–6). At Flixborough and Portchester, mature cattle were the main domestic animal consumed, and glass drinking vessels were also present. Exceptionally, at Wicken Bonhunt, consumption of mature cattle was lower than the consumption of pigs, which could be a regional fashion. Similar patterns in the consumption of wild species, especially wildfowl, to those found at Flixborough were also recovered at Wicken Bonhunt and to a lesser extent at Brandon (Crabtree 1996, 62–3; Dobney and Jaques 2002, 10). Equally striking parallels with specific traits and sometimes the majority of lifestyles at seventh- to eighth-century Flixborough come from France and Germany, notably from the settlements at Karlburg (Bayern), Distré ‘Les Murailles’ (Maine-et-Loire) and Serris ‘Les Ruelles’ (Seine-et-Marne) (see below). Two of the best examples of estate centres that acted as centres of consumption from northern France are provided by the aforementioned settlements at Serris ‘Les Ruelles’ and Distré ‘Les Murailles’. The settlement at Serris possessed a courtyard plan and a principal residential building, 30 m in length, together with an artefact assemblage of weapons, glass vessels and silver sceatta coinage. Its animal consumption pattern of large numbers of pigs, cattle and luxury wild species, such as sturgeon, also indicates that an elite group resided at the courtyard complex (Gentili and

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Valais 2007, 102). It seems to have been occupied from the seventh to the mid–late ninth century, and was linked to a series of possibly subordinate farmsteads, and a stone-footed chapel and cemetery, 300 m to the north (see Figure 7, Chapter 6). The earliest datable artefacts from the elite residential complex date from the end of the seventh to early eighth century, directly contemporary with the earliest phase of the large cemetery to the north, which also possessed several inhumations with dress jewellery of the finest quality, notably large damascene-decorated iron buckles from the male graves (Foucray and Gentili 1995, 139). In contrast to Serris, however, the settlement at Distré ‘Les Murailles’, on the southern bank of the Loire near Saumur (Map 1), exhibits an axial plan, with close similarities to Flixborough and Wicken Bonhunt, in England (Figure 12). Feasting, hunting and warfare, and the ability to move around the landscape on horseback, seem to have been key features of the leading families at Distré (Gentili and Valais 2007, 129–32). The bulk of the Distré remains seem to date from the ninth and tenth centuries, but again like Flixborough, there was no principal residential focus until the appearance of a large focal building sometime in the tenth century (Gentili and Valais 2007, 126; Zadora-Rio 2010, 91–2). The excavations at Karlburg, on the River Main (Map 4), undertaken by Peter Ettel, focussed on three different (and documented) settlement zones, dating from the Carolingian through to the Salian periods. One of these zones was the castellum Karloburg, documented from the eighth century. This settlement focus comprised an eighth-century fortified enceinte, constructed in mortared stone, and possessed an artefact and biological signature extremely similar to seventh- and eighth-century Flixborough (Ettel 1998, 2001). Conspicuous consumption of domesticated and wild-animal resources was emphasised. In comparative terms, a huge proportion (10.7%) of the animals consumed at the castellum focus was derived from hunting, principally red deer, wild boar, European bison and wolf, with a smaller number of wildfowl (Vagedes 2001). The bone assemblage, however, is much smaller than that obtained from Flixborough. Unlike English sites, such as Flixborough and Portchester Castle, pigs were the principal domesticated animal consumed at Karlburg, not cattle. Whereas the English cattle were adult or sub-adult when consumed, the vast majority of the pigs were young when eaten: 25% under 1 year and 82% under 2 years of age (Vagedes 2001). The predominance of pigs as the principal domesticated animal eaten is also seen at rural centres of consumption across northern France and into northern Germany (Doll 1999). It seems to reflect a

Conspicuous consumption and secular authority

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Figure 12 Plan of the settlement at Distré ‘Les Murailles’, Maine-et-Loire

cultural difference in aristocratic cuisine and consumption between northern France, Belgium, and Rhineland Germany, where pigs predominated; southern France, where pigs and sheep predominated; and Britain and Ireland, where cattle predominated as the principal domesticated animal consumed.

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The similarities, however, in evidence for the aristocratic pastimes of feasting and hunting are particularly striking, as is the ability to move around the landscape at speed on horseback, seen in the recovery of spurs and horse harness, and to carry weapons and sometimes possess armour. Just like Flixborough, Distré and Serris, glass drinking vessels were common at the castellum Karlburg (Ettel 2001). Synthetic studies of the consumption of wild game species from settlements in northern France conducted by Yvinec, Lepetz and Méniel have also noted the predominance of hunting, especially of wildfowl, at ‘seigneurial’ secular aristocratic settlements during the early Middle Ages; conclusions that also agree particularly with the consumption patterns at Flixborough (Yvinec 1993; Lepetz, Méniel and Yvinec 1995). All these settlements also show evidence of integration within local and long-distance exchange networks through the evidence of silver coinage. Another, perhaps surprising, feature is the extent of the discard of fine iron tools and weapons in refuse deposits. Given the impressions of the apparent scarcity of iron tools obtained primarily from polyptychs covering northeast France and Belgium (Chapelot and Fossier 1985, 18–19), the profligate discard of supposedly valuable iron artefacts is a key feature of these settlements, especially Flixborough and Distré (Gentili and Valais 2007; Loveluck 2007a; Ottaway 2009). This probably reflects wealth and control of land-based and ironworking resources to the point that recycling was not necessary. Flixborough, Distré and a documented late Carolingian vicarial centre at Olby (Puy-de-Dôme) (Map 3), partially excavated beneath a motte that succeeded it, also hold another striking similarity in their morphology. The settlements have axial linear plans of rectangular buildings, not courtyard-type plans that might be expected of villa or curtis settlements, based on the idealised descriptions of the Brevium Exempla. Similarly, none of the latter settlements possessed a focal residential building. However, opportunity has not allowed the opening of a large area at Olby (Gaimé et al. 1999, 82–6). The difference between the buildings at Flixborough, Distré and Olby is that only one of the buildings from Flixborough was constructed on a stone sill, whereas all the residential buildings at the two French settlements possessed this structural feature. The Flixborough sill-founded building, however, dates from the eighth century, whereas the Distré and Olby examples seem to date from the ninth and tenth centuries respectively. In contrast to these sites without an identifiable principal residence, the courtyard focus at Serris did comprise a cluster of large rectangular and square buildings, with one principal residential building constructed on a stone sill (Gentili and Valais 2007). The aristocratic centre

Conspicuous consumption and secular authority

housed within the castellum at Karlburg was different again, in having been located within a stone fortification. There is no apparent universal morphological template that can be associated with rural settlements that formed focal points for consumption of the resources of linked estate territories. Nor can it be assumed that those settlements with a principal residence and courtyard-like plan represent the centres of larger bipartite estates, while those without principal residential elements represent lesser elite settlements with smaller territories. Above all, morphological diversity is evident in the remains of Continental settlements that had an undoubted gravitational pull on land-based resources, alongside possession of portable luxuries (Zadora-Rio 2003, 8). There are some signs of emulation of the Carolingian imperial palace model of linked stone hall and chapel cores on some aristocratic centres in northwest Francia, possibly from the very end of the ninth century but more likely from the early tenth century. Examples can be cited at the settlements of Petegem (East Flanders) in the Scheldt valley (Callebaut 1994, 93–7), Hermalle-sous-Huy–Thier d’Olne (Ardenne) in the Meuse valley (Witvrouw 1999, 105–8; Verslype 2002) and perhaps the settlement at Locronan (Finistère) in Brittany (Guigon 1997, 69–98). At Petegem, a zone of timber buildings and a timber church and cemetery, probably dating from the seventh and eighth centuries, was replaced at the turn of the tenth century by a mortared stone hall and a stone church. The hall and church focus was also surrounded by a ‘figure-of-eight’-shaped ditch and palisade in the late ninth or early tenth century, just as Carolingian palace sites gained defensive palisades at Saint-Denis and Frankfurt, or towers, as at Compiègne, from the late ninth century (see Figure 20 below) (Callebaut 1994; Grewe 1998b; Renoux 1999; Wyss 1999). At Hermalle-sous-Huy (Map 1), the seventh-century settlement with its mausoleum underwent two transformations. A hall and church were built in the late seventh to eighth centuries, constructed on stone footings, and were replaced by a mortared stone hall and church in the late ninth or early tenth century. Both centres are associated with documentary identifications: Petegem, with the villa Pettingaheim in the reign of Charles the Bald; and Hermalle, with the villa Alnith, in the reign of Charles the Fat (Kehr 1937, no. 130, 208–9; Callebaut 1994, 93). The settlement at Locronan was the subject of excavation between 1986 and 1991 by Philippe Guigon. It comprises three linked enclosures of different sizes, aligned in a linear fashion on a north–south axis, situated on the north-facing slope of the mountain overlooking the Bay of Douarnenez (Map 1) (Guigon 1997, 69–70). Overall the enclosed areas

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of the settlement cover nearly 3.5 hectares. Currently, only the southernmost and smallest enclosure has been the target for excavation. It was also the topmost enclosure on the slope of the mountain side, and measured 110 m north to south and 90 m east to west. Its interior space was divided into four terraces to compensate for the slope of the mountain (see Figure 20 below) (Guigon 1997, 73–8). The remains of ten dry-stone buildings have been uncovered, and more were left unexcavated. The largest building and a smaller one nearby were identified as the principal residential building (aula), 12.50 m by 9.50 m in size, and kitchen (camera) respectively, and a further small dry-stone structure in close proximity was interpreted as a chapel (Guigon 1997, 92–5). In their dry-stone nature, they are more likely to be larger versions of contemporary vernacular architectural traditions in Brittany, rather than emulative of mortared stone Carolingian imperial hall and church complexes. Two silver coins (deniers) of Charles the Bald (840–77) were found in deposits close to the principal building at Locronan, and radiocarbon dates from the inhabited buildings also indicate occupation between the ninth and mid tenth centuries. The excavator suggests that the upper enclosure was occupied primarily during the second half of the ninth century, amid a longer occupation sequence (Guigon 1997, 96). Five buildings were also found to contain debris from goldworking, including evidence of roasting of ore, crucibles, moulds for ingots and other evidence for jewellery manufacture (Guigon 1997, 86–9). Other finds included an iron stirrup very similar to an example from the enclosed Breton settlement called the ‘Camp de Péran’ at Plédran (Côtes d’Armor), interpreted as a fort of the Carolingian period against Scandinavian raiding (see Figure 20 below), dated to the first half of the tenth century on the basis of a silver penny, struck at Viking York between 905 and 925, and radiocarbon and archaeomagnetic dates (Guigon 1997, 28; Quaghebeur 2002, 75). The Locronan settlement is interpreted as an undocumented aristocratic centre of the period of maximum Breton influence in West Francia, between the second half of the ninth and early tenth centuries, under the Breton leaders Erispoë, Salomon and Alan the Great (Guigon 1997, 97; Quaghebeur 2002, 74–6). During the first half of the ninth century, the picture of conspicuous consumption of landed resources changed dramatically at Flixborough. The wild animals and birds all but disappeared, despite location in and exploitation of the same habitats. Cattle also changed from over 40% of animals consumed to only 10%, and pig consumption also dropped. Instead, sheep reached almost 50% of all animals consumed. They were

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eaten when old, after use for wool production (Dobney et al. 2007b). The use of Continental luxuries for display dining also declined hugely but one or two pottery vessels from the Continent still arrived. Maritime links down the east coast of England were certainly maintained, however, indicated by the importation of Ipswich ware pottery, made at the port in Suffolk; and the use of West Saxon silver coins, pennies, struck in Canterbury and other mints in southeast England. The defining activities on the settlement were specialist craft production, primarily of fine-quality textiles, but also non-ferrous metalworking, ironworking, leadworking, and woodworking (Figure 13). Textile manufacturing and metalworking, in particular, appear to have been practised on a significantly greater scale than in the eighth century. This increased emphasis on production is possibly a demonstration of more intensive estate management, perhaps also reflected in the use of styli and literacy for accounting (Figure 14). The apparent absence of a consuming elite and the lack of use of the landscape for practices such as hunting suggest a change in settlement character in the ninth century. It is possible that the aristocratic family of the eighth century had given the estate, or part of it with its former centre, to a monastery. The emphasis on production, and possibly storage, has close affinities with Rigny-Ussé and other ecclesiastical estate centres in Francia (see Chapters 6 and 8). The alternative is that the settlement could have become a small monastery, after its donation. A third possibility is that the land had been owned by a monastery in the later seventh and eighth centuries (the major monastery at West Halton was no more than 15 km away) but was rented by an aristocratic family. There are a number of documented instances of Anglo-Saxon ealdormen – counts in Carolingian terms – renting monastic estates during the eighth and ninth centuries in the kingdom of Mercia, in which Flixborough was located (Foot 2007, 133; Loveluck 2007a, 154). Hence, the ninth-century pattern of more intensive production could have marked a return to direct monastic control. A fourth possibility is that the aristocratic family who had lived at Flixborough made another of their estate centres their main abode, while at the same time intensifying the economic output at their former residence. Direct parallels to ninth-century Flixborough, in specialist craft production and very limited and opportunistic exploitation of wild-animal resources, are seen at Anglo-Saxon monastic sites, including Jarrow and Hartlepool (Co. Durham), Beverley (East Yorkshire), Barking Abbey (Essex), Whithorn and Hoddom (Dumfries and Galloway) and other monastic sites (Loveluck 2007a 102–3). Striking parallels are also seen again at Karlburg in

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Figure 13 Metalworking tongs (length 162 mm, width 36 mm) from Flixborough, mid ninth century

Figure 14 Silver stylus (length from eraser to point 112 mm) from refuse deposits at Flixborough, mid ninth century

northern Bavaria, not at the castellum settlement, but at its monastic settlement element, dedicated to St Mary (Ettel 1998, 75–8, 2001, 32–41). The monastery and the documented farming and artisan community of the villa Karloburg were situated next to the River Main, overlooked by the castellum promontory. In terms of consumption of land-based resources, the pictures from both the monastery and the villa farming and artisan community are very different from that seen at the castellum. Nearly all the domesticated animals consumed (pigs, cattle and sheep) were old when killed at the monastery and villa foci, and wild animals were all but absent, comprising only 0.9% (Vagedes 2001, 314). Signs of ostentatious display in consumption were minimal and of a mobile horse-borne lifestyle were absent, as were weapons. Despite the absence of conspicuous consumption for display, there was abundant consumption of raw materials used for

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artisan activity in the villa community. Affinity with Carolingian imperial display was also provided by the recovery of porphyry from a building in the monastery, so wealth and status were displayed in architecture rather than through the feast and the hunt. The occupation sequence at Hamage (Nord) also provides an exceptional but tantalising glimpse of the complexity of a settlement that housed a monastic element, between the mid seventh to later eighth centuries (Louis and Blondiaux 2009). The excavations have illustrated the structural evolution within an enclosure linked to one of the ecclesiastical foci on the site but the nature of the wider settlement or agglomeration of different foci is unclear. Louis has suggested that the church of St Pierre may have formed a burial focus for the recorded male element of the ninth-century religious community, while also serving the burial and religious needs of the wider population of the estate or locality. The possibility of a lay abbot at Hamage has also been considered (Louis 1997, 56–9). Outside the possible religious enceinte, the physical reflections of the settlement might be indistinguishable from those of a secular estate centre, as reflected by archaeological remains. In this sense, a scratched graffito on a seventhcentury pottery goblet saying mitte plino – ‘refill’ – need not be seen in anything other than a secular light, nor should such evidence of literacy be seen as out of place amongst the seventh-century secular elite (McKitterick 1989, 213–16; Louis 1997, 58). Indeed, all other aspects of the material culture of the site reflect traits common to estate centres, such as evidence for consumption of high-status foods, such as sturgeon (Clavel and Yvinec 2010, 80); craft specialisation; conspicuous consumption of imported luxuries; and use of silver coinage as a medium of exchange (Louis 1997; Louis and Blondiaux 2009). Treatment of the dead within the settlements of northwest Francia and England designed for consumption and display was as diverse as the evidence for their morphology, often with multiple burial foci in use at contemporary periods within the same settlement. Indeed, multiple burial zones have been noted as a recurrent feature of all elements of the rural settlement hierarchy, between the sixth and eleventh centuries, especially in France (Zadora-Rio 1995). Combinations of funerary chapels, with burials within and around them, and additional cemeteries and isolated burials are all evident. So too are mixtures of north–south- and east–westaligned inhumation graves (Pecqueur 2003). Furnished burials tend to decrease by the late seventh century but items such as coinage were placed in graves until the ninth century (Zadora-Rio and Galinié 2001, 228). The same phenomena of diversity in burial location, multiple burial foci within

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the same settlement and funerary chapels on rural settlements are becoming apparent in England (Loveluck 2007a, 72–4). At the rural central places equating with estate centres, however, it is possible to see signs of social differentiation in burial location that may have equated with aspects of social rank in life. For example, specific funerary chapels and burials located inside them or immediately around them were a feature in England, France and Belgium: for example, at Yeavering (Hope-Taylor 1977), Flixborough (Loveluck 2007a), Serris (Foucray and Gentili 1998) and Bovigny (Ardenne) (Lambert 1991, 189); and churches initially associated with burials were also built near the principal residential buildings at Petegem and Hermalle-sous-Huy (Callebaut 1994; Witvrouw 1999). Elements of leading families from estate centres also procured burial spaces at leading monasteries, in both West Francia and Anglo-Saxon England, where interment close to cult foci was highly sought after. Procurement of burial spaces at monasteries for men, in particular, might be suggested from the evidence at eighth-century Flixborough and Dommelen (see Chapter 3), where adult male graves were absent from leading family grave groups on their home settlements from that time. Burial practices at monasteries were equally diverse, however, with fully furnished Christian burials in sarcophagi at Saint-Denis (see Chapter 6); and north–southaligned graves for the mid seventh- to early eighth-century graves of the women of the Hartlepool monastery, in addition to specific unfurnished burial practices for family groups, such as graves marked by dry-stone linings (see Chapter 6; Loveluck 2007b, 2007c). At Flixborough and Serris, there were also other cemetery foci further away from the chapels, probably for the wider agricultural population of the settlements. At Flixborough, poorly preserved graves were excavated approximately 70 m to the southeast of the mortuary chapel, and they included men, women and adolescents, some of whom showed signs of lifting heavy loads and skeletal strain, such as Schmorl’s nodes on their spines and osteoarthritis in joints, probably from agricultural lives (Mays 2007, 99–122). At Serris, there was a second grave cluster located outside the southern corner of the courtyard focus, 300 m to the south of the mortuary chapel with its rich seventh-century graves and large surrounding cemetery (see Figure 7, Chapter 6). The former grave cluster could reflect the burial ground of unfree members of the community tied to the aristocratic farm, whose status did not allow them burial in the main cemetery to the north. Such burial evidence is very difficult to read, however, due to the existence of active choice of burial location for members of the early medieval secular elite. Funerary and demographic

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evidence from rural central places is, therefore, unlikely to be fully representative of social differentiation among those who lived at those centres. In most cases, it is impossible to know the size of the estate territories associated with settlements such as Serris, Distré and Karlburg, or those centres which followed the Carolingian imperial building template more closely from the end of the ninth or early tenth century. The same can be said for the range of centres of consumption from Anglo-Saxon England, whether Flixborough, Wicken Bonhunt, Portchester Castle or Brandon. One thing common to most of them, however, is that their developed forms did not exist before the mid seventh century. Hence, they formed in the era when the bipartite estate was a reality in Francia and ideas of ‘Bookland’ had developed in England, but it is not possible to say with any certainty that they reflect a new landowning pattern, as a consequence of the formation of new estate territories. In West Francia, south of the River Loire, it is certainly the case that great estates were rarer than in the north and the majority of individual landholdings were smaller. Sato has pointed out that the colonica (colognes) estates in the Loire valley tended to be small, and not like the great bipartite estates of the northeast (Sato 2004, 32–4). Greater continuity of occupation of existing rural centres is also seen in southern Gaul and Italy. Poncin ‘La Châtelarde’ (Ain) was occupied from the fourth to the ninth century, and an elite signature is demonstrated in evidence of weapons, riding gear, glass vessels, high pig consumption and hunting. Yet the scale of consumption and discard is far below settlements such as Flixborough, Portchester Castle, Brandon, Serris or Distré, in Anglo-Saxon England and northwest Francia. The same is true of the settlements viewed as curtis-type estate centres in Tuscany, excavated by Francovich and Valenti. They have suggested a transformation from hilltop villages, founded between the sixth and eighth centuries, at Poggibonsi, Montarrenti and Miranduolo to curtis estate centres with attendant communities, during the ninth century. The new hilltop communities seem to have had a core of a principal building or buildings, sometimes surrounded by a wall or palisade (Valenti 2007; Francovich 2008†). Some of the principal buildings were approximately 18 m in length. They also show some gravitational pull on livestock resources, in the form of pigs and some wild species. The access to raw materials and luxury display commodities, however, was minimal. The perceived importation of the idea of the curtis into central Italy is a supposed reflection and consequence of Carolingian overlordship. Yet, perhaps not surprisingly, the archaeological reflections of the Italian estate centres have greater similarities with

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the smaller centres, south of the Loire, than with those of the Carolingian heartlands of northwest Europe.

The northern and western British Isles On the Atlantic fringes of northwest Europe, in western and northern Britain and Ireland, there is a mixed picture of continuity at secular centres of consumption, from the sixth into the seventh centuries and later, as there was with the evidence of farming settlements (see Chapter 5). In Ireland, the large multi-vallate ringfort at Garranes (Co. Cork) was occupied through the sixth and seventh centuries; while the ringforts at Garryduff (Co. Cork) were occupied through the seventh and eighth centuries (O’Riordain 1941–2; O’Kelly 1962–4). The royal crannog settlement at Lagore (Co. Meath) was occupied from the seventh to tenth centuries, reusing an existing site (Hencken 1950); and other crannogs at Moynagh Lough (Co. Meath) and Ballinderry 2 (Co. Offaly) were occupied from the sixth to ninth centuries (Hencken 1941–2; Bradley 1991). The Moynagh Lough crannog was surrounded by a palisade, and internally use of space was differentiated between roundhouses, a refuse/midden area and metalworking zones, including goldworking. The roundhouse dating from the mid eighth century is the largest from early medieval Ireland, approximately 11 m in diameter (O’Sullivan 2008, 245). At Birsay (Mainland, Orkney Islands) (Map 6), a secular centre of consumption and production existed from the sixth century until the end of the eighth century, after which the settlement retained its central functions following Scandinavian settlement and acculturation (Curle 1982; Morris 1995). And at Dunadd (Argyll) (Map 6) in western Scotland, the fortified centre was occupied between the seventh and ninth centuries (Lane and Campbell 2000). All the above settlements exhibit two chief characteristics: namely, conspicuous consumption of resources and patronage of specialist artisans, especially metalworkers and glassworkers. They also exhibit the kind of profligate discard of metal objects and tools that is seen on settlements like Flixborough and Distré, primarily relating to metalworking and arable agriculture (Edwards 1990, 61), suggesting that these settlements had sufficient control of resources for recycling not to have been important – a statement of power in itself (Loveluck 2007a, 159). The range and quantity of artefacts and specialist manufacturing debris from the above centres is exceptional. In Ireland, crucible and

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mould fragments for casting non-ferrous metalwork have been found at Garranes, Garryduff, Lagore and Moynagh Lough for the casting of brooches and ingots for exchange, amongst other items (Craddock 1989, 170–87). Millefiori rods and plaques for decorative glassworking have been found at Garranes and Lagore; and a mould for casting glass studs, dating from the eighth century, was also found at Lagore (O’Floinn in Craddock 1989, 201–6). Discarded iron weapons and tools from these Irish sites include swords and spears from Lagore, metalworking tongs from Garranes and Moynagh Lough, and an anvil from Garryduff (Hencken 1950; O’Riordain 1941–2; Craddock 1989, 211; O’Kelly 1962–4, 56–7). Gold jewellery fragments have also been recovered at Garryduff, Lagore and Moynagh Lough. From the Scottish centres at Birsay and Dunadd, relatively large collections of mould fragments and crucibles were recovered, demonstrating brooch manufacture in the seventh, eighth and ninth centuries at Dunadd, and during the eighth century especially at Birsay (Curle 1982, 26–41; Lane and Campbell 2000). Again, glassworking for adornment of metal objects is also reflected at Birsay, where glass mounts, a waster and a tessera have been retrieved, along with glass vessel fragments that could have been used for drinking or as cullet for reworking (Morris 1995, 21). Likewise weapons were also found at Birsay and Dunadd, in the form of spears. Most of the objects discussed above and the activities they reflect required a complex and sustained gravitational pull on resources by the leaders living permanently or periodically at these centres. Procurement of the commodities and skills also involved integration within far-flung networks of communication along the Atlantic seaways of northwest Europe, involving the movement of things and people, in circumstances of peace and war. The weapons at these centres and the iron slave-collar from Lagore provide an indication, both symbolic and real, of the power over commodities, networks and people by those who ruled these settlements. Network linkages showing group affiliation amongst peers and clients are suggested by the presence of the penannular brooch from Kildonan (Kintyre), identical to a mould from Dunadd; and a penannular brooch identical to a mould at Birsay was found in the eighth-century St Ninian’s Isle hoard of silver objects, from the Shetland Islands (Morris 1995, 21). Power over their surrounding landscapes is also reflected by markers of ‘the hunt’. The hand-collected bone assemblage from Lagore included the sought-after wild bird, the crane, and the so-called slave-collar could also have been used to control a large hunting dog (Hencken 1950, 11; Edwards 1990, 88).

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The Anglo-Saxon fortified centres in the northeast of the former kingdom of Northumbria at Dunbar (Lothian), in modern-day Scotland, and Bamburgh (Northumberland) follow exactly the same tradition as the fortified promontory centres of northern Britain, such as Dunadd and Edinburgh Castle (Lothian) (Map 6). They are exceptional among the remains of Anglo-Saxon centres as they demonstrate heritage from the British society in the region that was acculturated to become the unique ‘Anglo-Saxon’ society of Bernicia, the northernmost of the two subkingdoms of Northumbria, during the sixth and seventh centuries AD (Loveluck 2002, 127–48). Dunbar and Bamburgh are coastal promontories, and both settlements took over existing sites, which appear to have been abandoned sometime prior to the establishment of an Anglo-Saxon identity at them. They may have served as key points of consumption for the produce rendered to the lowland estate centres at Yeavering, Milfield and Sprouston (Borders), all of which possessed large fortified livestock enclosures alongside their display buildings. Only Yeavering has been excavated of the latter three sites, and it cannot be interpreted as a centre for conspicuous consumption like Flixborough, Wicken Bonhunt or Portchester Castle, further south in England. Instead, on the basis of the Yeavering evidence, the lowland centres of eastern Northumberland and the Scottish Borders can be seen, above all, as collection points for livestock and agricultural produce. A proportion of the taxation-in-kind is likely to have been stored and consumed on site, while the greater part of the produce may have been transported to the fortified, coastal central places at Dunbar and Bamburgh. Excavations have occurred at both Dunbar and Bamburgh and both have yielded Anglo-Saxon remains. The best-preserved occupation evidence was uncovered at Dunbar, where a sequence of superimposed buildings, deposits and other structures dated from the late sixth to mid ninth centuries (Perry 2000, 34–77). Occupation began with a series of rectangular timber buildings and Grubenhäuser, associated with textile manufacture and non-ferrous metalworking, within a fenced enclosure on Dunbar headland. This was succeeded by a second phase of rectangular timber buildings enclosed by a more substantial dry-stone rampart, dating from the mid seventh to early eighth centuries. A fragment of a gold and cloisonné garnet pectoral cross, dating from the mid to late seventh century, very similar to the ‘Cross of St Cuthbert’, dates from this phase (Cox and La Niece 2000, 113–14). So too does a silver sceat of series X, probably minted at Ribe, between c. AD 710 and 740 (Blackburn 2000, 168–9). The latter provides a very rare northeast British example of inclusion within exchange networks to the Continental shores of the North Sea, prior to the Viking Age. Another is a Frisian sceat of

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series E, dating from the early to mid eighth century, at the Pictish monastic centre at Portmahomack (Moray Firth, near Inverness), northeast Scotland (Carver 2004, 23). Subsequently, between the early to mid eighth century and the mid ninth century, a series of phases of rectangular buildings with dry-stone wall footings were constructed, similar to the burial chapel at early to mid eighth-century Flixborough. The Dunbar buildings seem to have been placed around a single large, mortared and plastered stone building, at least 15 m in length. Unfortunately, the latter building was only partially excavated but it provides one of the extremely rare examples of a principal focal building on a secular centre, which could equate to a principal ‘hall’, akin to the example at Northampton. The excavator of the Dunbar mortared stone building also concedes that it could be a church, with residential buildings around it (Perry 2000, 75). Nevertheless, this cluster of buildings still represents a very rare example of a clear focal building cluster at a central place. The mortar for the building seems to have been produced in a mortar mixer found beside it, very similar to excavated examples from Monkwearmouth (Co. Durham), dating from the late seventh century; Northampton, dating from the eighth century; and Carolingian examples from Continental western Europe (Williams, Shaw and Denham 1985; Cramp 2006). Northumbrian styca coins, primarily of copper with small traces of silver, minted at York in the mid ninth century, were recovered from the stone buildings (Pirie 2000, 168). Bones of red and roe deer were also found in all the Anglo-Saxon phases, reflecting the pastime of hunting (Smith 2000, 217 and 278–9). Deer, in particular, seem to have been particularly favoured prey species within the centres of conspicuous consumption in northern Britain, whether among AngloSaxon, British/Pictish or Dalriadic secular elites. They were the principal wild species recovered at Dunadd and Edinburgh Castle (Noddle 2000, 126; McCormick 1997, 204). In terms of evidence for display buildings, a centralizing pull on resources, specialist metalworkers and long-distance networks, the Dunbar settlement has traits in common with both the centres of Atlantic Britain and Ireland, and Anglo-Saxon rural centres like Flixborough, on the southern border of Northumbria.

Watermills and control of processing of cereals One final theme relating to consumption, transformation and control over agricultural resources needs to be addressed, namely the construction and

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control of watermills for the production of flour for bread, between the seventh and late ninth centuries. The technology and the control of wood resources, stone and exchange relations to procure quality millstones would suggest that the construction of a watermill was the preserve of elite action or communal action on behalf of settlement communities of sufficient size and wealth to procure the services of a millwright. The preserved wooden remains of watermills and the remains of mill leats (artificially dug channels to feed and power watermills) have been found across northwest Europe. The largest number and the earliest and most complex watermills have been excavated in Ireland. Despite being located on the Atlantic periphery of northwest Europe, the island of Ireland was intimately bound with western Britain and western France between the fifth and the ninth centuries, by both secular maritime connections and ecclesiastical networks that seem to have used the existing maritime transport infrastructure. It is these maritime networks that probably account for the transmission of watermill technology to Ireland. Both horizontal and vertical watermills have been excavated in Ireland, dating from the early decades of the seventh century onwards. The first horizontal-wheeled tidal watermill, at the monastery at Nendrum (Co. Down), situated on Strangford Lough, and the two watermills on Little Island (Co. Cork) comprising horizontal- and verticalwheeled examples, were built with wood felled in AD 619 and AD 630 respectively (Rynne 1998, 88–9; McErlean and Crothers 2007, 24–77). At least thirty watermill sites have been excavated in Ireland from the period between AD 619 and 1228 and almost 60% date from between AD 770 and 850 (Rynne 1998, 96; Clarke 2010; Seaver 2010). The two tidal mills and the mill dam at Nendrum were certainly built in a monastic context but the manpower needed to build the mill dam and a linked landing place for boats and ships would probably have required assistance from surrounding populations and secular elite patrons. Many, however, were probably not monastic constructions and the technology transfer process may not have been via ecclesiastical networks alone. In his detailed research on early medieval Irish watermills, Rynne has noted that there is a considerable debt to Romano-British woodworking traditions. Hence, technological transfer and specialist millwrights may have arrived initially within the Late Roman period from Britain, or via the Atlantic seaboard of France or Spain (Rynne 1998, 93–5). Millwrights certainly appear to have been highranking specialist craftsmen, when they are first seen in textual evidence during the ninth century, in both Irish laws and West Frankish documents, although their numbers are unknown. The resources and manpower

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needed to construct a mill dam, canalise watercourses, dig mill leats and construct a wheelhouse and mill mechanism all suggest that their services were patronised primarily by secular and ecclesiastical elites, and this is the context in which they appear in Irish and Carolingian documents (Rynne 1998, 91). In England, Anglo-Saxon watermills dating from before the tenth century have been excavated at Kingsbury, Old Windsor (Berkshire), probably associated with a royal estate; Tamworth (Staffordshire), associated with a key royal estate centre of the kings of Mercia; Wellington (Herefordshire), also possibly associated with the Mercian royal estate centre at Sutton, several miles away; at Corbridge (Northumberland) on the River Tyne; and at Barking Abbey (Essex) (see Maps 5 and 6). The mill complex at Kingsbury, Old Windsor was excavated by Brian Hope-Taylor in 1957. He uncovered the remains of three adjacent watermills, with vertical wheels, probably dating from the late seventh century (Hope-Taylor 1958, 183–5; Fletcher 1981, 150–2; Wikander 1985). They were succeeded in turn by a horizontal-wheeled mill. The mills were served by a leat that channelled water across a meander of the River Thames for a distance of 1.2 kilometres, to finally rejoin the river after having powered the mills (Hope-Taylor 1958, 184). The mid-ninth-century watermill at Tamworth was excavated in 1971 by Philip Rahtz, and was of horizontal-wheeled type, and was apparently demolished in the late ninth or early tenth century (Rahtz and Meeson 1992, 9–14). It used mainly regionally derived millstones but a small quantity of millstone fragments of Niedermendig lava, from the middle Rhineland, were also recovered (Wright 1992, 70–7). At Corbridge, the remains of three level stone platforms from a mill wheelhouse were recorded in 1995, just over 50 m south of the site of a Roman bridge that crossed the River Tyne, leading to a former Roman fort. Roman masonry had been reused for the wheelhouse foundations and a wooden water-chute or ‘penstock’ was also found (Snape 2003, 50–3). The remains indicate a horizontal mill very similar to the Tamworth example, with timber sill beams for the wooden superstructures of the mill building(s), set within the stone platform. Radiocarbon dating places the construction of the mill in the mid ninth century, with subsequent modifications in the late tenth century (Snape 2003, 63). Sixth- to seventhcentury graves and tenth-century stone sculpture from within the former Roman fort at Corbridge, together with the watermills and a later seventhor eighth-century stone church, about 1.5 kilometres to its south, all reflect a settlement of seventh- to eleventh-century date, probably with secular and ecclesiastical elite foci. Textual sources record the existence of a

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monastery at Corbridge in 786, and a king of Northumbria was murdered there in 796 (Snape 2003, 63–4). The most recently excavated mill in England was found at Wellington (Herefordshire) in 2001, at the western extremity of the Anglo-Saxon kingdom of Mercia. The base of a wheelhouse for a vertical mill was discovered, like that at Old Windsor, along with part of a waterwheel paddle. Dendrochronological dates suggest that the mill was built after AD 683, probably between the late seventh and early eighth centuries. Several fragments of millstones were also recovered. Wellington is only several miles from the Mercian royal estate centre at Sutton St Nicholas and it is possible but not proven that the Wellington mill and settlement was linked to the estate. The mill at Barking (Essex) is associated with the Anglo-Saxon nunnery and is not fully published, although it appears to date from the eighth century. Despite the demonstrable or possible royal and monastic associations of the majority of the Anglo-Saxon examples, the likely mill-leat at the nucleated settlement at Saleux ‘Les Coutures’, the mills from Raystown, and the mill-wheel paddle from ‘Deer Park Farms’ should caution against the assumption that only the highest elites could afford to support the construction of a watermill. The Saleux community was undoubtedly internally ranked, with some materially wealthy families reflected in the rich founder-graves from the seventh century (Catteddu 1997, 144–5). The settlement as a whole, however, was not a centre of conspicuous consumption but instead a ranked community of farming families, involved in agricultural production. It is possible that the wealthiest family could have financed the construction of the mill, or it could have been built by an absentee estate owner, or alternatively again, the mill could reflect a communal investment by all the families of the Saleux settlement, during the mid to late eighth century. The monastery of Corbie was located within 20 kilometres of Saleux and documentary evidence shows that the latter monastery had specialist millers or millwrights in the early ninth century (Rynne 1998, 91). It is possible that the community or leading family of the Saleux settlement could have procured the services of a millwright from the nearby monastery. Similarly, the farming family of the ringfort/rath at ‘Deer Park Farms’ seems to have become more materially wealthy during the eighth century, and this wealth could also account for an ability to procure the skills and materials to build a horizontal watermill, from a millwright perhaps normally based at secular aristocratic and monastic centres (Lynn 1989). The wealth of the ‘Deer Park Farms’ settlement of the eighth century certainly does not suggest that it should be regarded as aristocratic, but instead the

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settlement of a locally notable farming family of middling wealth (O’Sullivan 2008). The much more impressive discoveries from the nucleated farming settlement at Raystown, with its mixed agricultural regime, craft-working levels to support the settlement alone, but large-scale cereal processing in its multiple mills and wild animals and birds, indicate an equally complex range of possibilities. The settlement may have been situated in a royal estate, perhaps even linked with the royal crannog at Lagore (Co. Meath), and it may have had a role processing and redistributing cereal renders within such an estate (Seaver 2010). At the same time, however, it is evident that the inhabitants at Raystown also had significant rights to the wild resources of the landscape, increasingly viewed as markers of elite status, between the later seventh and ninth centuries. Even if the occupants were tenants within a royal or aristocratic estate, it is quite clear that they enjoyed a level of prosperity and standing that was very significant locally, and once required renders had been paid there is no evidence to suggest that they could not have used their mills for personal gain, processing the cereals of neighbouring settlements that did not possess mills. Such circumstances would allow for considerable opportunity to prosper materially for people technically tied within an estate structure. At the same time, however, the biological markers of hunting, and even potentially falconry, may also hint at a free independent status for at least the leading family of the Raystown settlement.

Polyfocal central places: the entanglement of elite foci of consumption, administration and patronage In conclusion, some attention must be paid to the phenomenon of ‘polyfocal’ settlements. In reality, settlement foci of different types, whether of production, collection or consumption, or secular and religious, were regularly located in very close proximity to each other, forming larger agglomerations of distinct settlement elements. This often occurred within the space of former Roman townscapes, for example, at Soissons (Aisne), Tours (Indre-et-Loire), Tournai (Hainaut) and other former administrative towns of the later Roman Empire, where royal or comital residences existed alongside ecclesiastical foci and artisan and mercantile populations. According to the perceptions of early medieval writers in Francia, these polyfocal settlement nuclei within former Roman townscapes were perceived as single settlement entities, despite having several separate elements. They were sometimes described as towns but more often, and perhaps more significantly, they were simply referred to by their place-names. They were

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central places of a non-urban character, if compared with later medieval and modern towns. Indeed, Henri Galinié has described these polyfocal settlements in former Roman townscapes as ‘non-urban’ towns (Galinié 1999, 103– 4). It did not matter to our early medieval forebears whether these settlements could be classed as ‘urban’ or not, but they were central places of consumption, administration and patronage, with relatively large populations in relation to the settlements of the pagani, the inhabitants of the surrounding rural territories (pagi). In Anglo-Saxon England, similar juxtapositions of centres of secular and ecclesiastical authority can be seen at York and Canterbury, both the latter housing royal estate centres/palaces, episcopal centres and monastic foci (Kemp 1996, 82–3; Cambridge 1999; Gameson 1999, 20–1, pl. 2). The point at which these composite settlement nuclei can be regarded as towns is a matter of interpretation depending on how a town is defined (Galinié 2000). In the course of the later ninth and tenth centuries, some of the juxtapositions of different settlement foci in rural settings also developed into complex central places that can be interpreted as towns. This is particularly true of certain royal and episcopal estate centres: for example, Compiègne and Liège, which developed under the patronage of the Carolingian family, especially Charles the Bald, and the bishops of Tongres–Maastricht–Liège, respectively. Such a transformation, involving the coalescence of administrative, ecclesiastical, craft-working and market functions into single urban places was fundamental to the emergence of High Medieval settlement patterns in northwest Europe. The point at which they can be regarded as ‘urban’ probably relates to the point when the majority of their inhabitants collectively perceived themselves as distinct from the ‘countryside’ around them, and had sufficient independence to act sometimes separately from, and in combination with, the interests of landowning authorities for mutual gain (Galinié 2000, 76–8; Dutour 2003).

8 Diocesan towns, AD 600–900

Roman legacy in West Francia and problems of perception The diocesan central places of bishops in West Francia were a direct legacy of the administrative fabric of the later Roman Empire, from the fourth and fifth centuries. These episcopal centres of power, patronage and administration were housed within the fortified walled enclosures of Late Roman towns that had been constructed during the later third and fourth centuries, throughout most of the Gallic provinces. They tended not to enclose the full area of the urban fabric of the existing Roman townscapes, leaving large areas of extramural space to be inhabited by other settlement nuclei, monasteries, extramural funerary churches and cemeteries. Areas were also used for new purposes, such as refuse dumping or horticulture, once former built-up areas had been levelled and topsoil dumped to form cultivatable soil. Only in Britain were the fourth-century enclosed surface areas of townscapes largely unchanged, behind their mainly second- and third-century ramparts. Yet within those ramparts the extents of inhabited and utilised space certainly changed; and some town walls were rebuilt in stone with bastions, during the fourth century, as at Caerwent (Gwent). Following the progressive abdication of the Roman western provinces to federates, allies and existing provincial authorities during the course of the fifth century, popes (bishops of Rome) and provincial bishops had increasingly taken on key roles in the secular administration of their centres and ecclesiastical territories, between the fifth and seventh centuries. These men were not spiritually detached monks. Most came from leading regional aristocracies and many had military and civil administrative careers before they entered the ecclesiastical hierarchy. For example, Gregory the Great, Pope from 590 to 604, was a great-grandson of Pope Felix III and had been the leading secular authority in Rome (the urban prefect) during the 570s, when he had helped to organise its defence against the Lombards (Lançon 2001, 53, 61 and 105). For the areas under Frankish political hegemony, the holding of episcopal office was also a principal vehicle for the maintenance of leadership roles by established Gallo-Roman families, albeit acculturating with new influences to become part of the

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‘Frankish’ elite. Gregory, Bishop of Tours in the late sixth century, hailed from such a regional aristocratic family. The walled episcopal cores of Gaul provided ecclesiastical direction to the territories inherited from the Late Roman period, and those territories appear to have been divided into parishes in much of France by the seventh century. Epigraphic evidence, however, has led Collardelle to suggest that parishes existed south of the River Loire from sometime in the sixth century (Collardelle 1991, 122–33). By this time, the walled diocesan settlements housed cathedrals and other linked churches, usually referred to collectively as ‘the cathedral group’, as well as episcopal residences or ‘palaces’, and additional funerary churches in the former urban fabric beyond the walls. From these centres bishops governed the networks of rural churches and priests throughout their dioceses, reflected especially in epigraphic memorial evidence. Indeed, the textual sources also emphasise episcopal control over rural priests by measures such as the obligation to use holy oil blessed by the regional bishop at Easter; and the primacy of parish churches over private chapels was established at the Council of Agde in 506. At the latter meeting, it was agreed that masses could be celebrated at private chapels on condition that the principal religious services of the ecclesiastical year were celebrated in the parish church (Collardelle 1991, 131–3). The extent to which such regulations were followed in the rural world of the seventh to ninth centuries is unknown, and the diversity of burial practices, ritual deposits, churches and funerary structures has already been noted (Chapters 3 to 7). Nevertheless, the notional regional power of bishops over the pastoral care of the entire population of a diocese certainly existed in theory, even if it was not manifested by uniform ritual observance in practice. It certainly seems the case, however, that the large cemeteries at settlements such as Saleux ‘Les Coutures’ (Somme), Tournedos ‘Portejoie’ (Eure) and Rigny-Ussé (Indre-et-Loire) are best interpreted as parochial cemeteries, even if the foundation of the two former cemeteries in northern France seems to have resulted from the development of private funerary chapels, either constructed upon or housing founder-graves. Regional officers of the Merovingian Frankish kings, counts, also held secular administrative responsibility for the territories formerly governed from the main administrative towns, which became the ‘counties’ of the early Middle Ages. While counts held judicial office linked to the walled settlements and their territories, it is less clear how regularly they were resident at them. Bishops also possessed their own rural estates and so may not always have been present at the diocesan centres. Nevertheless, with

Diocesan towns, AD 600–900

the existence of such episcopal foci of patronage and royal officers also using them, the walled settlements and the ‘islands’ of habitation in the Roman urban fabric around them provided a landscape and social setting of juxtaposed population groups that was very rarely matched at places with multiple settlement elements in the cultivated rural landscapes beyond them. The regional ecclesiastical and secular powers based at diocesan centres ensured that they remained regional hubs for the people of their surrounding hinterlands throughout the early Middle Ages. The existence of powers of patronage at these centres probably resulted in the maintenance of larger population densities and communities of greater social and ethnic diversity compared to counterparts beyond them, especially artisan and merchant populations. Indeed, hints of such artisan and mercantile diversity are evident from textual sources, more so than archaeological evidence. Between the fifth and late ninth centuries, communities of Jewish and Byzantine merchants were a common feature of diocesan centres in Gaul south of the Loire, mostly following major river communication corridors, such as those of the Rhône: Arles, Vienne, Lyon, Mâcon and Autun; the overland route from the Mediterranean and then along the Garonne and Dordogne to Bordeaux; and along the Loire, from Nantes through Tours and Orléans (Maps 1 and 3). Further north, there were Jewish merchants at the diocesan centres of Paris, Cologne and Trier, and they were often joined by communities of Frisian merchants, and by Anglo-Saxon, Irish and British/Breton merchants along the coasts of the Channel and Bay of Biscay (Maps 1 and 4) (Lebecq 1997, 68–70; Bruand 2008, 18–19). The seafarers from the British Isles, however, tended to frequent emporia ports, fairs and smaller anchorages, rather than diocesan centres further inland (see Chapter 9). There are also indications that the inhabitants of the islands of settlement within the Roman-built fabric still thought of themselves as living in single distinct places, and that these places were perceived as single entities by outsiders, whether people from the countryside, itinerant artisans or merchants. For example, the gold tremissis coinage, struck from the sixth century until the 670s across the Frankish kingdoms, was produced by moneyers who worked at diocesan centres. The legends (the texts) on these coins give two sets of information using the Latin alphabet: on one side, the name of the moneyer; and on the other, the name of the place where the coin was struck. Usually, the place-names give no indication that the episcopal settlement cores were regarded as distinct from the spatially associated settlements in former townscapes. They were normally known collectively by the single label inherited from the tribal element of Roman

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town names. In other instances, where fourth- or fifth-century fortified sites had developed into complex settlements, as at Maastricht, Namur and Huy (Map 1), in the Meuse valley, the gold coinage struck at them again simply refers to a single place-name. Maastricht was itself adopted as a diocesan centre, after the Bishop of Tongres moved the seat of his bishopric from the former Roman town at Tongres during the early sixth century (Dijkman 1994). Debate still surrounds the purpose of this gold coinage, ranging from occasional production at diocesan centres for purposes of payment of wergild fines, with secondary use for exchange, gifts and wealth storage, to special productions by itinerant moneyers for occasions such as saints’ days and associated fairs or markets. Frans Theuws has recently emphasised the latter possibility for the striking of tremisses at Maastricht, in the context of ecclesiastical celebrations and a fair on the saint’s day of St Servatius, whose remains and relics were housed under episcopal authority in Maastricht (Theuws 2004, 127–30). Whether the moneyers were permanently based at episcopal centres or not, they still worked for episcopal or comital patrons at the walled centres and the latter patrons probably provided the gold to produce the coinage. Here, the main point to emphasise is that when the moneyers stamped a single place-name on their coinage, they either presented their perceptions as outsiders that the episcopal centres and juxtaposed settlements were one place collectively, or they presented the perceptions of their patrons and the wider inhabitants that one name encompassed all the elements of the settlement. This is not to say that there were not perceptions of internal differentiation. Distinct toponyms and labels for different elements within diocesan centres are clearly demonstrated at Tours. In the ninth century, these ranged from civitas for the walled episcopal core; suburbium civitatis for the occupied areas surrounding the walled settlement; and burgus Sancti Martini for the monastery of St Martin and its attendant settlement (Galinié 1981, 74–5). There was also differentiation of the place within Tours where silver coinage was struck, in the eighth and ninth centuries: coins have the legend ‘Turonus Civi’, specifically reflecting episcopal control of minting.

Physical and social character in West Francia: spaces of the living and the dead In recent years postmodernist interpretations of the use of space and the way it is bounded have tended towards the symbolic interpretation of walls surrounding episcopal and comital foci, emphasising their role as

Diocesan towns, AD 600–900

boundary-markers of the space where public, religious and secular government was undertaken. Yet there are also references showing that these walled settlements were sometimes besieged, during the sixth, seventh and eighth centuries: examples included Paris, Arles, Carcassonne, Angoulême, Avignon, Narbonne and Bourges (Map 1) (Bradbury 1992, 14–19; Halsall 2003, 225–7). So, when symbols of power, i.e. the fortified walls, failed to deter an enemy they maintained a practical defensive role as well. Bachrach also noted the documented use of siege engines by Frankish kings against some of these walls, during the sixth and seventh centuries (Bachrach 1972, 76). By the ninth century, however, some Roman walled circuits may not have been well maintained or serviceable for defensive purposes in West Francia. Indeed, some had been dismantled by bishops, such as Ebbo, Archbishop of Rheims, in the reign of Louis the Pious, and Halsall also notes that the inhabitants of Mainz demolished part of their walls to gain easier access to the river for purposes of trade (Halsall 2003, 217). Bradbury notes, however, that Ebbo and other bishops had to apply for royal permission to demolish their walls, probably reflecting that the majority were still maintained to a defensible standard or that their possession was indivisible from their legal status as diocesan towns (Bradbury 1992, 29). By 883, however, Fulk, the successor to the archbishopric of Rheims, rebuilt the wall after a Scandinavian raid, and during the late ninth century the walled enceintes at Tours, Orléans, Metz, Noyon, Tournai, Arras and others were renovated, as a consequence of experience of larger-scale Scandinavian raids and invasion (Bradbury 1992, 29; Josset and Mazuy 2004, 56; Galinié 2007a, 18). In terms of the social character of occupation within the walls, most archaeological attention paid towards diocesan centres has focussed on the theme of the Christianisation of space, with major excavations of cathedral foci, associated churches and episcopal residences (Picard 1998, 275–92). Other excavations have focussed on churches and burial foci either beyond or within the walled settlements, and upon extramural monastic foci. Major excavations of cathedral groups include those undertaken in Lyon, Trier, Geneva, Rouen, Paris, Auxerre, Grenoble, Aix-en-Provence, Fréjus, Cologne, Tournai, Tongres, Barcelona and other cities (Maps 1, 3 and 4) (Duval 1991, 50–69; Gauthier 1997, 52–4); and excavations of funerary churches are even more widespread, with examples from Ste Geneviève, Paris, St Clément, Mâcon, St Laurent, Grenoble, La Madeleine, Geneva and the churches of St Laurent de Choulans and St Just, both in Lyon, to name only a selection (Sapin 1996, 1999, 39–60; Reynaud 1999, 27–37). The cathedrals and their linked churches provide the main physical expressions

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of episcopal authority. The excavations in Rouen and Barcelona, in particular, have shed light on the nature of episcopal complexes as they developed in the eighth and ninth centuries, at the height of the Carolingian period. The excavations of Le Maho in Rouen have shown that the cathedral basilica of Notre Dame was founded in the fourth century, along with the collegiate church of St Étienne, and a community of cathedral canons, housed to the north of St Étienne. Between the late eighth and early decades of the ninth century, there were major new constructions associated with the cathedral group. Components of this aggrandisement included a cloister for the canons and a new mortared stone building to accommodate them. Major alterations were also made to the canonical church of St Étienne by adding a west transept or Westwerk, comprising a porch flanked by two turrets, and a rotunda in the centre of the nave. The cathedral of Notre Dame was also renovated and a crypt added; and a series of enclosed galleries led south from the cathedral to buildings interpreted as part of a palace complex, including the archbishop’s hall (aula) and a tower, possibly housing a library (Figure 15). The entire cathedral, canonical and episcopal palace complex was housed within an insula defined by maintained Late Roman streets (Le Maho and Niel 2004, 94–7; Le Maho 2006, 201–6). The whole complex and all the episcopal archives are recorded as having been burnt, during the first recorded Scandinavian raid on a walled centre in Francia, in 841. The stratigraphic sequence on the site of the palace is instructive for understanding the use of space and activities to the south of the cathedral of Notre Dame, between the fifth and early ninth centuries. A layer of apparently homogeneous ‘dark earth’, 40 cm in depth, had developed between fourth-century structural remains and the construction of the archbishop’s hall in the early ninth century. The latest artefacts deposited within the dark earth included eighth-century pottery, produced at nearby La Londe, two eighth-century symmetrical copper-alloy brooches, and a silver denier coin of Charlemagne, struck at Amiens in the 770s (Le Maho 2006, 219). The excavator interpreted the dark earth as an indication of ephemeral use or composting for a garden (Le Maho 2006, 207). Yet the appearance of homogeneity was a consequence of post-depositional biological degradation. The pottery, brooches and the coin from the eighth century could equally reflect refuse accumulation and domestic hearth sweepings close to an area of wooden buildings, which had been transformed on chemical and physical weathering into the apparently homogeneous dark earths. This process of dark-earth formation from biologically

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11th-century cathedral of Notre Dame

Baptistry (?)

Canons’ refectory Collegiate Church of St Étienne

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Figure 15 Plan of the cathedral group and bishop’s palace at Rouen (eighth to tenth century)

transformed refuse deposited very close to habitation areas has also been observed among pre-Columbian and contemporary communities in the Amazon rainforest in Brazil, where the dark earths or terra preta are especially indicative of both past refuse zones of settlements and also deliberate composting (Kern, Da Costa and Frazao 2004, 23–7; Myers 2004, 90–2).

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During the early ninth century, the activity represented by the dark earth was replaced by mortared stone buildings, constructed to display episcopal prestige. The hall was approximately 15 m in length, and other elements of the complex included structures identified as a camera, or kitchen, and a hostelry for visitors, in addition to the tower, suggested to have contained the episcopal library (Le Maho 2006, 208–17). There are also startling similarities with Carolingian royal palace halls, in terms of the decorative materials used to adorn the hall. These included marble plaques from opus sectile friezes and window glass, painted with inscriptions in Latin uncial capitals, reminiscent of the inscriptions painted on to the plastered walls at Paderborn and Saint-Denis (Le Maho 2006, 211–14). In this sense, the chief actors within the ecclesiastical hierarchy of West Francia were associating themselves with the media of expression used by the papally blessed Carolingian imperial family at their palace centres, during the era that has been described as that of the ‘Carolingian Renaissance’. The origin of the decorative materials used to embellish the episcopal palace at Rouen is unknown at present, and it is unclear whether stonemasons, who could work marbles, and glassworkers were permanently resident in Rouen under episcopal patronage. The recent discovery of a marble plaque for an opus sectile frieze from trial excavations at the site of Quentovic ‘La Calotterie’, Vismarest (Boulonnais) raises the possibility that some marble-workers could have been based at the seventh- to ninthcentury port (Barbé and Routier 2009, 189). However, most of the evidence for stonemasons, marble- and porphyry-workers and glassworkers currently comes from Carolingian palace settlements, diocesan centres and major extramural monasteries (Gauthier 1997, 57). So, at present, the balance of probability suggests that these specialists were based mainly within the vicinity of major patrons. Indeed, the recovery of evidence for glassworking and mosaic production at major extramural monasteries, such as St Martin of Tours, from sixth-century deposits, can be viewed as a reflection of episcopal patronage as much as monastic patronage of the artisans. It is often forgotten that the impetus for the development of cults of major saints in extramural zones of diocesan towns was invariably the result of episcopal sponsorship. The catalyst for the growth of the cult of Saint Martin at Tours was certainly provided by bishop Perpetuus of Tours, rather than the abbot of the monastery, when the bishop built the major basilica dedicated to Saint Martin over the apparent location of the martyr’s grave in 470/471 (Figure 16) (Galinié 1997, 69–70; Galinié with Theureau 2007, 97). Similarly, the cult of Saint Servatius, a fourth-century Bishop of Tongres, was promoted by the bishops of

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ir r Lo

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(b) St-Pierrehors-les-murs re River Loi

St-Julien St-Pierre-le-Puellier Castrum Sancti Martini, 918

Cathedral

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St-Saturnin St-Hilaire St-Vincent

Notre-Dame-la-Pauvre Notre-Dame-I’Ecrignole St-Martin

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Figure 16 Schematic plan of the polyfocal central place of Tours: (a) c. AD 600; (b) c. AD 950

Tongres–Maastricht at Maastricht during the sixth and seventh centuries (Dijkman 1994; Theuws 2004). The locations of the residences or palaces of counts have been much more difficult to identify, partly because we have no expectations of what they might look like as archaeological remains. By c. AD 900, we certainly have examples of mortared-stone comital halls (aulae) in rural contexts,

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and a comital residence-cum-donjon, dating from the early eleventh century in Tours (see Chapters 11 and 12). Yet there are currently no examples of excavated comital residences at diocesan centres dating from before AD 900, with one exception. At Barcelona, there are clear indications of a close association of the comital residence or palace with the cathedral complex and episcopal palace. Again, as at Rouen, the cathedral group had a fourth- to fifth-century origin. A Christian cemetery and possible Late Antique villa were replaced during the sixth century by the first cathedral, dedicated to St Eulalia and the Holy Cross. The cathedral was then enlarged during the seventh and eighth centuries, and the first episcopal palace is thought to have been built to the north of the cathedral, during the seventh or eighth century. The episcopal palace consisted of a central hall, approximately 25 m in length, with square rooms leading off from it down both long walls. All were built in mortared stone. The first written mention of a comital palace dates from 924 but excavations indicate the existence of the comital palace during the ninth and tenth centuries. The footprint of the mortared stone building thought to be the comital residence was approximately square and with dimensions approximately 25 m by 25 m. By the late ninth to tenth century these residences and the cathedral formed the core of ecclesiastical and secular power in the Carolingian, and successor Catalan county of Barcelona (Beltrán de Heredia Bercero and Nicolau i Marti 1999, 102–5). Up until the tenth century, graves were rarely placed within cathedrals, with the occasional exception of members of royal families and the highest aristocracy. The graves beneath Cologne Cathedral are well-known examples, and others come from the cathedral at Autun. From the turn of the tenth century onwards, however, graves did begin to be placed immediately outside cathedrals, often adjacent to their west transepts. This occurred at Rouen, Auxerre and Barcelona in this period (Picard 1998; Beltrán de Heredia Bercero and Nicolau i Marti 1999, 103; Le Maho and Niel 2004, 97 and 103–5). Earlier graves in the area surrounding the cathedral of St Gatien at Tours could represent the earlier onset of this practice there from the mid seventh century. However, the published radiocarbon dates from the latter graves, attributing them to the 660s, are derived from midpoints on the standard deviation range, and at a 98% level of confidence, with the widest error margin, the graves could probably date from anywhere between the sixth and ninth centuries (Jouquand 2000, 104–5). Prior to the end of the ninth century, burial foci were concentrated within funerary churches and cemeteries beyond the walled areas of diocesan centres. As with major extramural monasteries, many of

Diocesan towns, AD 600–900

the patrons and builders of the extramural funerary churches were bishops. They may have been joined as patrons by counts and other members of the emerging landholding elites during the sixth, seventh and eighth centuries. Historians like Gauthier have noted that the people living within the walled diocesan towns were inextricably linked with the dead buried within and around the churches that surrounded the walled centres, and that processions between the worlds of the living and the worlds of the dead were key elements linking the intra- and extramural foci. The major extramural monasteries, such as St Martin of Tours and St Victor of Marseilles, were located upon the sites of apparent martyr graves, and they became extremely desirable burial locations for both their monastic communities and lay members of society. Burial in close proximity to the patron saint’s grave was extremely desired for his or her intercession on behalf of the souls of the dead on the Day of Judgement. The temporary shrine housing the remains of St Martin, during the construction of the monastic church, has possibly been identified by Galinié during his excavations at Tours. He was also able to show differential zonation of graves, with an all-male cemetery close to the saint’s shrine, possibly the burial ground of monks, and a lay cemetery beyond it, in existence from the sixth century onwards (Galinié and Theureau 2007, 95–7). Similarly, at St Victor of Marseilles, graves were placed as close to the sacred heart of the monastery as possible, including some furnished graves, one with a seax (a long single-edged knife or short sword), which presumably reflected a member of the surrounding lay population of Marseilles or its region (Fixot and Pelletier 2009). Yet the extramural spaces surrounding walled diocesan centres were not only filled with monasteries, burial grounds and other funerary churches and cemeteries. They were spaces of the living too. The monasteries themselves became vibrant communities of monks, with scriptoria and artisans, and they were focal points for pilgrimage. The prestige of their dead saints literally produced spiritual ‘powerhouses’ which attracted gifts, patronage and people as visitors to the saints’ shrines. Indeed, it was this increased influx of people and patronage, initially promoted by bishops, which resulted in the monastic cores of diocesan centres often becoming the driving force in the growth of these polyfocal settlements that would result in their development as towns, in the modern sense. They not only drew the living from beyond their immediate environs, they also drew the dead from their regional hinterlands, whose families wanted to procure a burial place as close to the body of the saint as possible. The movement of some dead people over considerable distances to sacred burial places,

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especially members of aristocracies and regional elites, makes understanding the demographics of diocesan centres and their extramural settlements extremely difficult. A proportion of the dead in monastic burial grounds almost certainly did not live within either the walled centres or the extramural zones beyond them. Yet we not only know of vibrant extramural monastic communities, there were also other documented areas inhabited immediately beyond walled centres, noted at Paris, Tours, Orléans and other centres. This raises two key questions: firstly, who were the dead placed within and around the non-monastic funerary churches in the extramural areas? And secondly, where did they live when alive? It is possible that some of the people could have been resident in the cultivated landscapes of the surrounding regions, and some of the extramural churches may have been specifically for the mortuary use of families who had provided bishops and counts for their regions. Yet this would account for some buried within the extramural churches but probably not all, and certainly not for those buried in the cemeteries beyond them. One has to conclude that a significant proportion, and probably the majority of the people buried within and around the extramural churches at diocesan centres, actually lived within the walled centres and their immediate extramural areas. This raises a major apparent paradox in our understanding of activities within and around sixth- to ninth-century diocesan centres. Christian monumental complexes, extramural monasteries and cemeteries have proved highly visible archaeologically, as have the walls of the episcopal cores. The structures are built in mortared stone and the graves have diagnostic traits, whether accompanied by datable grave-goods or sarcophagi; or graves have been dated by radiocarbon means. In contrast, archaeologists have rarely found diagnostic structural evidence for habitation within the walled areas or in their extramural zones. Instead, apparently homogeneous deposits of dark earth have been frequently encountered within and beyond the walled cores. In Britain, especially, but also in France and Belgium, these deposits have been encountered immediately overlying areas of the built fabric of former Roman townscapes, dating from between the third and fifth centuries. Superficial analysis suggested that they were homogeneous, and until recently they have been seen as evidence of abandonment of the spaces in which they occurred. Indeed, in Britain, these dark-earth deposits have become conceptually tied to the theory of urban decline and radical change in the use of space in former townscapes, between the third and fifth centuries, for example in London,

Diocesan towns, AD 600–900

Lincoln, Cirencester, Wroxeter and York (Holbrook 1994, 75–6; Roskams 1996, 265–6 and 277; White and Barker 1998, 119; Macphail and Linderholm 2004, 37–41). In the cases of London, Lincoln and Cirencester, combinations of the analysis of the micromorphology of dark earths and their artefact contents suggest that large areas were given over to agriculture, horticulture, animal penning and refuse dumping, prior to reuse of these spaces for dwellings, from the tenth and eleventh centuries (Jones 1993, 24; Vince and Steane 1993, 76–7; Gerrard 1994, 91–3; Macphail 1994a, 40). This would also accord with the aforementioned interpretations of very similar dark-earth deposits from the pre- and post-Colombian Amazon (Kern, Da Costa and Frazão 2004; Myers 2004). The key point to emphasise is that the dark earths represented continued use of former townscapes, and required human agency for the components of the dark earths to accumulate, i.e. people must have lived in former urban fabric but in different ways from third- and fourthcentury forebears (Loveluck 2004, 88). Obviously, such a conceptual link to urban decline relies on comparative reference and perception of what activities define a town and urban life. Through modern excavations and with the benefit of hindsight, we can see that the use and extents of townscapes were very different between the second and fourth centuries but there was little difference between the uses of space and the extents of activity between the later fourth century and eighth century, in many cases. Hence, there is unlikely to have been any concept of decline on the part of Continental bishops of the sixth and seventh centuries, in comparison to their fifth- and fourth-century predecessors. Living within a landscape of standing and decaying buildings from the second, third and fourth centuries, within and beyond the walled enclosures, was normal and probably not perceived as a reflection of decline. The modern populations of western Europe have lived with standing medieval buildings within the built environment of cities and the rural world up until the present, and especially up until the Second World War. Their presence registered as normal, just as earlier Roman buildings in the spaces of the diocesan centres of the early Middle Ages would have been perceived as an everyday sight from a bygone age, without any embedded message of decline. Nevertheless, by the mid 1990s, the occurrence of dark-earth deposits in many former Roman townscapes from Italy through France, Belgium, Britain and Germany, their superficial appearance of homogeneity, and an absence of structures associated with them, resulted in general theories that they reflected a process of abandonment of earlier Roman townscapes and even large parts of the defended enceintes, between the fifth and seventh centuries; and furthermore, that diocesan centres and ecclesiastical

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foci represented the only nodes of habitation within the fabric of largely derelict Roman towns (Halsall 1996; Brogiolo 1999; Loseby 2000). Indeed, some historians, especially, have stated that people did not want to live in the areas enclosed by diocesan centres, between the fifth and the ninth centuries (Halsall 2003, 217–18). Scholars such as Halsall have suggested that walled settlements were valued only as administrative centres or refuges in times of crisis and that populations clustered instead around spiritual foci provided by major extramural monasteries. He suggested a population shift from the apparently derelict walled zones of Tours and Limoges, to the extramural monasteries of St Martin and St Martial, respectively; and he suggested similar shifts in Trier and Metz (Maps 1, 3 and 4). Such suggestions hugely underestimate the dynamism of bishops, counts and their settlement cores, and their powers of patronage. The ideas of abandonment and settlement shift also rely on the simple equation that dark earth equals abandonment. All the above centres possess dark earth deposits in their intramural and extramural areas, especially Tours and Metz, and Paris and Tournai can be added to these. The dark-earth deposits are far from homogeneous, however, especially in regard to the way the descriptive label has been used in France and Belgium. In the latter countries, the term terre noire has been more loosely applied to any deposits that are dark brown or black. Some contain very few artefact components, while others are full of objects and domestic and industrial debris (Guyard 2000, 73–6; Galinié 2004, 8). Furthermore, in Continental northwest Europe, the labelling of terres noires deposits is not only embedded within the transition centuries between the Roman period and the early Middle Ages. They are also identified in later medieval urban deposits and in rural contexts. For example, they reflect intensive use and deposit accumulation around the cathedral of St Gatien, in Tours, in several layers of terres noires, dating from the fourth to fifth centuries, the ninth to twelfth centuries, and the twelfth to thirteenth centuries (Figure 16 above) (Jouquand 2000, 104–6). The latter were interspersed with phases of mortuary use for graves. Terres noires reflect horticulture at Douai (Nord), in the later Middle Ages (Louis 2004a, 147–9); and they are refuse deposits in various wealthy seventh- to ninth-century rural settlement sequences, indicative of intensive and stable occupation. They occur at the small monastery at Hamage (Nord), at the fortified estate centre core of Château Thierry (Aisne) and at the church and associated settlement deposits at Notre-Dame-de-Bondeville (Haute-Normandie), just outside Rouen (Durey-Blary 2000, 93–4; Langlois and Adrian 2004, 106–13; Louis 2004b, 98).

Diocesan towns, AD 600–900

The huge dark-earth refuse dumps, encountered from eighth- to eleventh-century Flixborough, containing thousands of artefacts and hundreds of thousands of animal bones, and the dark, artefact-rich refuse deposits from eighth- to ninth-century Fishergate, in York, would have been labelled terres noires in France (Kemp 1996, 59; Loveluck 2007; Loveluck and Atkinson 2007). Indeed, the nature of the latter refuse deposits from England closely resembles that of the huge refuse deposits at Hamage (see Chapter 9). The fourteenth-century and later horticultural beds excavated within burgage plots in the medieval town of Kingstonupon-Hull (East Yorkshire) and on the margins of the medieval town of Beverley (East Yorkshire) also parallel the terres noires deposits from later medieval Douai (Loveluck and Tibbles 1996; Loveluck 2004, 89). All the latter dark deposits represent occupation, in the form of refuse, or cultivated spaces indicating habitation very nearby. The analysis of the contents of the terres noires from the site of the Collège de France, in Paris, also represents the biological transformation of domestic refuse deposits demonstrating occupation adjacent to them or nearby. In Britain too, certain dark deposits have been labelled according to the practice in France and Belgium: for example, dark earths with artefact elements dating from the ninth and tenth centuries, at Chester (Cheshire), and also at Cirencester (Gloucestershire), where they have been interpreted as important indicators of continued human presence and occupation, rather than continued urban lifestyles (Gerrard 1994, 91–3; Macphail 1994b, 67–8). The label ‘dark earth’ in Britain, and especially terre noire in Frenchspeaking Europe, can therefore hide a multitude of activities of different dates. Some may equate to abandonment, others to a change in the use of space to horticulture, organised refuse dumping or in-situ occupation deposits. The most fundamental point to recognise is that in order to have post-depositional biological transformation of occupation, refuse and horticultural deposits that produced the dark earths, people had to live within those areas or immediately nearby. Part of the lack of appreciation of what dark earths/terres noires could represent has resulted from assumptions that evidence of structures equates with occupation and their absence equates with abandonment. Dark earths do not usually contain evidence of structures within them, whether intact masonry, dry-stone, trench or post-hole foundations. Yet they often contain large quantities of artefacts, such as the deposits to the south of the cathedral of Notre Dame at Rouen, with their pottery, brooches and coin of Charlemagne, and also architectural fragments. Such artefact components rarely arrive by accident. At Tours, large-scale use of micromorphological analysis of the terres noires

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deposits adjacent to the church of St Julien by Galinié and Macphail has shown that they have a heterogeneous make-up incorporating refuse deposits and decayed structural remains, from wooden, daub and cob-built structures. These had decayed to produce an illusory image of homogeneity and an absence of apparent cut features, as a result of truncation and postdepositional degradation. In reality, artefact-rich terres noires should probably be regarded as signs of intensive use of space and occupation within former Roman urban fabrics. The artefact components of the fifth- to late eighth-century terres noires at Rouen clearly suggest occupation and a built environment that did not use stone, to the south of the cathedral. Similarly, pottery and large animal and fishbone assemblages from terres noires deposits excavated in the canonical zone adjacent to the cathedral of Notre Dame, at Tournai, have demonstrated that sixth- to seventh-century dark-earth layers reflect discard of domestic refuse, associated with food consumption. Indeed, the presence of large quantities of marine fish, wild mammals such as hare, red deer, wild boar, bear, beaver and fox, and large wild birds such as cranes seems to reflect the animal detritus of an aristocratic lifestyle adjacent to the cathedral complex, perhaps more akin to a comital rather than ecclesiastical lifestyle (Brulet et al. 2004, 167–70). However, given the social background and documented careers of early medieval bishops, it may be difficult to distinguish comital and episcopal lifestyles. The range of wild mammals certainly reflects hunting trophies for meat, in the case of hare, deer and boar; and for fur, in relation to bear, beaver and fox, presumably from woodland and riverside landscapes in proximity to Tournai. Cranes were also a key target species amongst wild birds for secular falconry and feasting, in both Anglo-Saxon England and Francia. The hunting lifestyles evident from the area adjacent to the cathedral at Tournai are very reminiscent of the rural centres of secular elites (see Chapter 7). The importation of significant numbers of marine fish from the coast, mostly flatfish, during the sixth and seventh centuries, represents the earliest known provisioning of an inland central place with marine fish, in an early medieval context (Brulet et al. 2004, 168). It is very tempting to see such provisioning within the context of a desire to consume fish on a regular basis as part of the observance of a religious lifestyle at an episcopal centre, but this could have been achieved by eating freshwater fish. The consumption of marine fish should probably be regarded more as a statement of wealth and status. The unbroken occupation sequence of structures and deposits within the late fourth-century walled area on the site of the Château at Tours (Figure 16 above) also yielded abundant pottery, diagnostic tiles from

Diocesan towns, AD 600–900

buildings and other artefacts from the fifth to eleventh centuries, prior to the construction of the donjon–tower residence of the Counts of Anjou. This evidence demonstrates the certainty of extensive occupation beyond the cathedral group within the castrum (Randoin 1981, 103–14; Galinié with Husi et al. 2007, 67–74). Dark earths from around the church of St Julien indicate structures, habitation and possible horticulture in the zone between the episcopal focus and the monastery of St Martin. The archaeological signatures of the people who lived on the site later occupied by the château at Tours also seem to exhibit wealthy lifestyles, with glass drinking vessels during the sixth and seventh centuries, and the consumption of pigs was most prevalent as on the rural centres of secular elites in Francia. The remains of wild animals were very limited, only 1% of the faunal remains, a lower proportion than found on rural centres or the area adjacent to the cathedral at Tournai. Yet oysters and fish accounted for 7% of animals consumed, associated with buildings 3 and 4 from the later sixth and seventh centuries (Galinié with Husi et al. 2007, 73). In this sense, there is a similarity with the material from the terres noires next to the cathedral of Notre Dame at Tournai. Whilst data sets from within walled episcopal cores are limited at present, it is possible that the emerging patterns of animal and fish consumption reflect lifestyles influenced by Christian practice and proximity to episcopal patrons, or even membership of episcopal retinues. The detailed analysis of the dark-earth deposits themselves and a conceptual rethink of what they represent strongly suggest that assumptions of large-scale abandonment need to be tested within individual episcopal centres. It is now possible to prove continued occupation in some. Indeed, in Tours, there is evidence for occupation and human activity not merely in the walled area and around the monastery of St Martin, but also in the intervening areas, strongly correlating with the ninth-century references to people living in the walled area (the civitas), the monastery and attendant settlement around St Martin (the burgus Sancti Martini) and in the areas around the walled centre (the suburbium civitatis). Equally, the evidence from Rouen may also suggest more extensive habitation around the cathedral group than had been assumed; and the evidence from the Collège de France, in Paris, can also be interpreted as a reflection of occupation. This again mirrors Gregory of Tours’s comments on occupation beyond the walled enceinte on the Île-de-la-Cité, in Paris. The latter enclosed the cathedral group and bishop’s palace around Notre Dame, the Merovingian and later Carolingian royal palace at the other extremity of the island, and also the Hôtel Dieu, and probably other inhabited spaces. There was a suburb on the right bank of the Seine and

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the monastery of St Germain-des-Près, with its attendant settlement on the left bank. Hence, with our greater understanding of deposits as well as structures, hints are now beginning to emerge of more vibrant and more populous diocesan towns. Larger resident populations would also explain the origins of the majority of people buried within and around the extramural churches. Indeed, these new perspectives help to explain the textual references and archaeological evidence for merchants and resident or itinerant artisans such as glassworkers, masons and moneyers at these centres. They possessed multiple cores of patronage and larger and more diverse populations compared to settlements in the surrounding regions that they administered. The seasonal expansion in the population due to pilgrimages to extramural monastic foci also provided extra impetus to trade. Through the eighth and ninth centuries, the striking of silver coinage at many of the diocesan centres and the use of exotic materials in the monastic scriptoria of monasteries in their extramural areas, reflects the role of these settlements as key nodal points for the consumption of products derived from far-flung networks, and as facilitators of exchange. Many of the diocesan centres in riverside and estuarine locations also possessed settlement nodes labelled under the term portus, ports or landing places located beside river frontages outside walled areas. This was certainly the case at Orléans, Tours and Rouen, and these riverside quarters seem to have been the locations where merchants lived, whether on a permanent or transient basis. The portus or merchant settlement at Orléans developed outside the southwest corner of the walled episcopal core, and was known by the name Avenum (Josset and Mazuy 2004, 55–7). Eighth- and ninth-century silver denier coinage, struck at Orléans, Tours, Rouen and other episcopal centres for the Carolingian kings, was used equally to facilitate trade and also for payment of tolls (Dumas-Dubourg 2004a, 25–7). Bridges spanned the Loire outside Tours and Orléans, and both acted as toll collection centres, among many others along the river taxing traffic from the Atlantic coast, especially salt-traders among other merchants (Bruand 2008, 20–2). By the mid eighth century, however, diocesan centres were not the only centres where royal coinage was minted. Others were located at major monasteries and palace–monastery complexes, such as Saint-Denis; silvermining centres, such as Melle (Poitou-Charente); and major ports, such as Dorestad and Quentovic. The people who dwelt within the diocesan towns, other than bishops, counts, their entourages and monks, were not devoted entirely to nonagrarian pursuits. Agriculture or at least horticulture seems to have played

Diocesan towns, AD 600–900

a much more significant part in the daily life of the people who lived in them than has been generally recognised. In Paris, excavations at the site of the Carousel uncovered agricultural plots and structures on the right bank of the Seine, on the periphery of the early Roman townscape, that were used continually from the Roman period into the eighth or ninth century (Van Ossel and Pieters 1998, 181–99). This evidence suggests continuity of horticultural practices by a resident population living outside the walled area at Paris throughout the early Middle Ages. The evidence of herbivore dung regularly encountered in dark earths in Continental northwest Europe and Britain also testifies to extensive grazing of livestock within former urban fabric, either within areas where soil had been dumped to act as a base for rough pasture, or for penned livestock sustained by feed brought from elsewhere. The role of diocesan towns as central hubs in webs of commodity movement increased through the seventh, eighth and ninth centuries as bishops and major extramural monasteries became the holders of large rural estates in the regions surrounding them, and sometimes beyond.

The debate over episcopal power and its manifestation in the British Isles While the evidence of archaeological deposits, such as dark earths, certainly demonstrates different kinds of occupation and use of space by people living within the former Roman townscapes in Britain, it is much more difficult to assess the impact of bishops, their central places and diocesan authority on the religious practices of the people who lived within their territories. The fate of the Late Roman bishoprics of Britain is unknown. They are thought to have existed, based in London, York, Lincoln and possibly Cirencester, based on British representation at fourth-century Church councils, but there may also have been others. There is no evidence of the scale of the dioceses associated with these bishoprics but uniformity with Continental practices should be expected, with diocesan territories mirroring civitas or provincial boundaries. During the fifth and sixth centuries, however, there is no evidence of the maintenance of any episcopal authority in Britain inherited from the fourth-century Roman Church, nor any direct evidence of continued communications within episcopal networks. Some form of religious authority probably brought the extent of the Pelagian heresy in Britain to the notice of the bishops of Rome and Gaul, however, which resulted in Bishop Germanus of Auxerre being despatched to Britain to counter it, between the late 420s and mid 440s.

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There is certainly no reference to British bishops or dioceses in eastern Britain south of the Humber, between the fourth century and the arrival of the mission of St Augustine of Canterbury in Kent, in AD 597. Yet, following the establishment of Augustine and his archbishopric at Canterbury, within the Roman walled area, he and his successors took great pains to establish bishoprics and dioceses based on papal records of episcopal sees from the fourth century. Hence Melitus established the episcopal see for the kingdom of the East Saxons based upon a new episcopal church dedicated to St Paul, within the walled area of Londinium; and Paulinus built episcopal churches in Lincoln and York, in the first two decades of the seventh century. Rivalry with the Christian traditions of the western and northern British Isles brought direct confrontation between Roman and insular British and Irish Christianities during the middle decades of the seventh century (Brown 1996, 359–62). This confrontation included competition in traditions of episcopal authority, as well as academic differences over the calculation of the date of Easter and styles of tonsure. However, Etchingham has also emphasised practices of episcopal organisation of pastoral care for the lay population that the Roman and Irish churches held in common, despite tensions and occasional conflicts (Etchingham 1993, 161–2). The Anglo-Saxon kings who followed Irish Christian practices, the kings of Bernicia, did so as a result of their conversion by monks from the monastery at Iona, founded by the Irish Saint Columba, during the sixth century. In Bernicia, as in the territories of the Picts and Dalriada, bishops and dioceses were based at and administered from major coenobitic monasteries, sometimes located in close proximity to key centres of secular power. The examples of Dunadd and Iona, and Bamburgh and Lindisfarne provide key examples from Dalriada and Bernicia. The kingdoms of the Picts, the Dalriada and much of Bernicia were also located to the north of the former Roman frontier of Britain, and hence there were no Roman townscapes in which to establish episcopal centres. As a consequence, when the sons of King Æthelfrith of Bernicia, Oswald and Oswiu, adopted Irish Christianity while in exile, they implemented the Ionan pattern of Christianity when they became kings of Northumbria themselves, between the 640s and 660s. The monk Aidan was invited from Iona to become the first bishop to the Northumbrians, based at his newly founded monastery on the island of Lindisfarne, facing the royal fortress of Bamburgh on the mainland. The bishopric of the Northumbrians, based at Lindisfarne, seems to have operated via a network of monasteries, with their own abbots and abbesses, with the bishop holding different degrees of influence over different abbots, as seems to have been the case in Ireland

Diocesan towns, AD 600–900

(Etchingham 1993). Power or influence on the part of the bishop over the independently founded monasteries within the kingdom probably relied upon proximity to, influence over and entanglement with the power of the Bernician kings of Northumbria. In Deira, a different model was followed, adopted by the Deiran king of Northumbria, Edwin, between 616 and 633. He adopted Roman Christianity under Kentish influence, and allowed the Canterbury missionary, Paulinus, to build a wooden church in York and establish an episcopal centre around it within the walls of the Roman town. The site of the church has never been discovered; however, the site of the Anglo-Saxon cathedral has never been excavated. This centre was evacuated by Paulinus, following the death of Edwin, and with the reaccession of the Bernician ruling house the Lindisfarne-focussed see was founded. The bishopric of York was reestablished, however, from the mid seventh century, amidst an environment of competing churchmen, such as St Wilfrid, who eventually secured the support of the Bernician Northumbrian kings for the adoption of Roman Christianity at the Synod of Whitby in 664, with the result that York eventually became the archiepiscopal centre of the Northumbrians. Hence, episcopal power was undoubtedly something worth fighting for, politically and intellectually. Unlike in West Francia, however, the importance of bishops and their centres in Anglo-Saxon England has been stressed to a much lesser extent in recent years, in favour of a research emphasis on the importance of monasteries or ‘minsters’ in the provision of pastoral care. Minsters could range from monastic foundations following a defined religious rule to episcopal cathedral churches with communities of canons and priests, or secular elite centres with churches and small communities of canons or priests, providing pastoral care. They have formed the principal focus of research for John Blair in the past twenty years, in the course of which he has emphasised the importance of these minster institutions in the development of the Anglo-Saxon church, very much to the detriment of consideration of the roles of bishops and the influence they held over the practices of Christianity in their dioceses (Blair 2005). Indeed, he sees little evidence that bishops involved themselves in the affairs of minsters or were able to regulate them and their linked parochial territories, other than those that were their personal possessions (Blair 2005, 91–100 and 109–17). Hen has observed, however, that the emphasis on the importance of monasteries in the provision of pastoral care for their territories has marginalised and almost dismissed the roles that episcopal power and diocesan structures played in Anglo-Saxon England between the seventh

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and the ninth centuries (Hen 2009, 333). The same scholar has also criticised the breadth of types of settlement incorporated under Blair’s use of the term ‘minster’, which amalgamates very different communities with ecclesiastical elements under the same label, including diocesan centres. The breadth of meaning given to the term ‘minster’ has also caused considerable debate over the possible archaeological manifestations of the different types of settlements and communities that could be labelled using the term (Loveluck 2007a, 145). The material imprint of episcopal authority in Anglo-Saxon England has tended to be explored in recent years by scholars focussing on the study of stone buildings, sculpture and coinage. Collectively, the evidence from these three forms of material culture suggests that the importance of bishops and their actual rather than aspirational power has been significantly underestimated by the focus of attention on minsters. Indeed, there were more similarities between the actions of Anglo-Saxon and Continental Frankish bishops, and their physical manifestations, than is usually credited. These similarities can be observed particularly from the mid eighth century onwards, and especially from the early ninth century. Episcopal cathedral churches were normally built in mortared stone, with linked building complexes housing episcopal retinues and communities of canons, in the walled areas of former Roman legionary fortresses or towns at York, Lincoln, Canterbury, London and Winchester. Following the abandonment of the first episcopal churches and linked settlements built by Paulinus, in York and Lincoln, new cathedral church complexes were constructed in York in the later seventh to early eighth century, and probably in Lincoln too. Key features of the early episcopal foundations were monastic settlements sited beyond the enclosed areas of former Roman townscapes, acting as a paired focus for the cathedral churches within them. This was the case in Canterbury, where Augustine founded his cathedral, Christ Church, within the Roman walls, and a monastery directly controlled by him outside the walls, the monastery of St Peter and St Paul (Cambridge 1999; Gem 1999). The latter was also a mortuary church for the burial of the archbishops and members of the Kentish royal family. The same pattern was probably followed by Melitus in London during the seventh century, with the construction of the cathedral church of St Paul’s and its community of canons within the walled area of Roman Londinium, and a monastic settlement dedicated to St Peter outside the walled perimeter to the west, on Thorney Island, hence the east and west episcopal minsters respectively (Gem 1993, 124). A stone church dedicated to Alma Sophia and a probable linked monastic community was also created in York by its

Diocesan towns, AD 600–900

archbishop, dedicated in 780, and sited outside the walled area of the Roman legionary fortress, in the area of the former Roman colonia, as a counterpart to the cathedral focus (Morris 1986, 80–5; Gem 1993, 124). Direct control of two episcopal churches and communities by a single bishop has also been suggested for Lincoln by Gem, with a cathedral church and community of canons within the area of the walled legionary fortress/colonia, and a monastic settlement somewhere beyond the walls (Gem 1993). Such patronage and direct influence over monastic communities on behalf of Anglo-Saxon bishops is directly analogous to the patronage of the monastery of St Martin of Tours by Bishop Perpetuus and the promotion of his cult at the end of the fifth century, and the foundation of extramural churches and communities by Continental bishops, often as episcopal burial foci. There are also further close similarities between some of the episcopal centres of seventh- to ninth-century England and West Francia. Canterbury, Winchester, York and possibly London also housed foci of secular power, in the form of royal estate centres, just as Continental townscapes were theatres for the action of counts and sometimes royal courts. Archaeological evidence for these secular nodes of power has been largely elusive to date, however. The royal focus at York probably lay between the area of the former Roman principia and Anglo-Saxon minster (Phillips and Heywood 1995; Kemp 1996), and likewise at Winchester the royal ‘palace’ was also located in proximity to the cathedral minster (Biddle 1976); while those at Canterbury and possibly London have never been identified, despite much speculation on the possibility of a royal focus at Cripplegate, in London. A better candidate for a seventh- to ninth-century royal estate focus in London lies outside the walled area at Whitehall, with its large earth-fast timber buildings and meat processing (Cowie and Blackmore 2008). Unlike West Francia, however, smaller Roman nucleated settlements and newly founded sites were also used as diocesan centres more regularly in southern England, between the mid seventh and eleventh centuries. For example, Dorchester-on-Thames (Oxfordshire) and Worcester (Worcestershire) were Roman ‘small towns’, enclosed by earthwork ramparts; and North Elmham (Norfolk) was the diocesan centre of the East Angles, before the centre was moved to Thetford and then to Norwich after the Norman Conquest (Wade Martins 1980; Baker and Holt 1996; Blair 2005). The link to patronage, support and possible regulation of mercantile and artisan communities highlights further similarities between certain diocesan centres in England and West Francia. For example, the centres situated on major navigable rivers, inland from their estuarine tidal reaches, at London and York can be directly paralleled at Continental

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diocesan towns such as Rouen, Paris, Tours and Orléans. All these centres had portus landing places and communities of artisans and seafaring merchants outside their walls. The major international port settlement referred to as Lundenwic between the mid seventh and ninth centuries was located to the west of the Roman walls of Londinium but it was bounded by the ecclesiastical foci provided by the west minster of St Peter and the east minster of St Paul’s within the walls, as well as the possible royal settlement at Whitehall, and a ‘halo’ of farming settlements on the periphery of Lundenwic (Cowie and Blackburn 2008). At York, the port and artisan settlement was located beyond the walled and enclosed areas, on the River Fosse at Fishergate. Hence, like London, York was a complex and socially diverse polyfocal settlement, with the royal and episcopal cathedral foci within the former legionary fortress, Alma Sophia and other undefined settlement elements within the former colonia, and the artisan and ethnically diverse population of the port at Fishergate (Kemp 1996; Rahtz 2000). Similar spatial arrangements can be observed for Rouen, like London and York a major international port. At Rouen the already discussed episcopal cathedral group, palace and other settlement nuclei were located within the area of the walled Roman town, with seafaring merchant and artisan communities located outside the walls, possibly at a series of landing places further down the River Seine (Le Maho 2003, 2006). This resulted in a diocesan central place with an extensive port landing area and zone of specialist production and exchange beyond the walls, including large-scale pottery manufacture at nearby La Londe (Hodges 1991). At Tours and Orléans, smaller port zones can be identified for these riverside diocesan towns on the Loire, further inland than their counterparts at London, York and Rouen. Their water-linked merchant communities were also situated outside the walled episcopal cores, in specific riverside locations: to the southwest of the walls at Orléans, and to the northwest of the episcopal walled area at Tours (Josset and Mazuy 2004; Galinié 2007b), and a similar landing zone and mercantile community can be envisaged at Paris, joining its royal, ecclesiastical and other settlement nuclei. Seafaring merchants from Anglo-Saxon England and Frisia must certainly have travelled up the Seine through Paris, or landed at Paris, in order to attend the annual fairs held at the major monastery–palace at Saint-Denis (Lebecq 1997). At all the diocesan central places, however, all transient seafaring or river-borne traders were housed outside the walled foci, reflecting the perception of these people as outsiders, often foreigners, and even local waterborne traders were set apart by their mobile lifestyle, and perhaps their wider worldview (see Chapters 9 and 13). This is not to

Diocesan towns, AD 600–900

say that these mobile communities and the families of local boatmen and seafarers were isolated from other population elements within the diocesan towns. The port-dwellers also lived in close proximity to other extramural communities of artisans, monks and farmers, who collectively produced communities of a size and social diversity matched only at a small number of royal, monastic and port centres, beyond former Roman townscapes. Again like their West Frankish counterparts, key Anglo-Saxon bishops also produced coinage. The Archbishops of York and Canterbury and the Bishops of London struck coinage in their own names between the mid eighth and mid ninth centuries, albeit for and in cooperation with the Northumbrian, Mercian and West Saxon kings respectively. The Archbishops of York struck joint issues of Northumbrian silver sceatta coinage at York between 738 and 766, in the name of four successive kings and the archbishop (Booth 2000, 85–6). The archbishop concerned was Ecgberht of York, who happened to be the brother of the Northumbrian King Eadberht (738–57), and the uncle of King Oswulf (759). The third joint issue was struck with King Æthelwald Moll (759–65) and the fourth with King Alchred (765–74). By the time of Archbishop Eanbald I of York (778–96), debased sceatta coinage was struck in the name of the archbishop alone (Booth 2000, 86). Four further Archbishops of York, Eanred II, Wulfsige, Wigmund and Wulfhere, all struck copper-alloy styca coins in their own names, between 796 and 892, and Wigmund (831–54?) also struck a gold solidus issue (Booth 2000, 88–9), probably emulating Carolingian imperial solidi of Louis the Pious and copies of them. Following the introduction of the broad silver denier by Pippin III in Francia in the mid eighth century, and its emulation in England south of the River Humber from the reign of Offa of Mercia onwards, Archbishops of Canterbury and Bishops of London also minted broad penny coins at their respective diocesan centres. Those of the Archbishops of Canterbury, struck between c. AD 800 and the 840s, for the Mercian and West Saxon kings, were distributed quite widely up the east coast of England, both north and south of the Humber. Examples are known from Flixborough (Archbishop Ceolnoth, 830s–840s) and North Newbald (East Yorkshire) (Archbishop Wulfred, 805–32) (Booth 2000, 93; Archibald 2009). The striking of these episcopal coin issues, especially those of the Archbishops of York and Canterbury, emphasises the close relationship between figures of the secular and religious hierarchies in eighth- and ninth-century England, sometimes reflected by close family ties, as in the case of Eadberht of Northumbria and Archbishop Ecgberht of York. Such close relationships are unlikely to equate with limited episcopal power in

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England at this time. The broad penny issues struck by the Archbishops of Canterbury from the early ninth century, however, may reflect the particular circumstances of the early ninth century, in the wake of the reforming church councils at Clofesho (803) and Chelsea (816), and the various attempts by the archiepiscopal and episcopal hierarchy to extend their control over the ecclesiastical affairs of their dioceses, through the Benedictine reforms adopted from Carolingian West Francia (Gem 1993, 123–4). The archiepiscopal coinage from Canterbury could be viewed as one attempt to promote the increasing prestige and influence of the metropolitan see. It demonstrated the close association and mutual support of the leading secular and ecclesiastical powers in southern England during the ninth century: Mercia and then Wessex linked to Canterbury, and ultimately Rome. Beyond the striking of coins by archbishops at their metropolitan centres, the power of certain archbishops was also expressed in the landscapes of their dioceses through monumental sculpture. Just like royal families and major monastic institutions, Anglo-Saxon bishops also possessed networks of rural estate territories, like their continental counterparts. In the diocesan regions controlled by York and Lichfield, small numbers of large stone monuments using very specific sculpted iconographies and styles were set up, especially in the last decades of the eighth and early ninth centuries. Most were sited within or in association with key churches, and some in Yorkshire were certainly placed on estates of the archbishops of York, as at Otley. The iconography and the styles of relief carving on the Yorkshire monuments seem to be directly inspired by churches and classical monuments from Rome and northern Italy, rather than by other Anglo-Saxon and Frankish exemplars (Lang 2000, 112–14). They comprise a group of four ‘Apostle pillars’ or crosses from Easby, Masham, Otley and Dewsbury, in West and North Yorkshire. They comprised cylindrical pillar shafts and arcaded relief sculptures of the apostles, some in classical dress with halos. The Masham and Easby examples were over 3 m and 2 m in height respectively; and the relief sculptures of both would have been painted. The Mercian group includes similar classically inspired relief sculpture of people in flowing robes set within arcades, such as the ‘Hedda’ stone at Peterborough (Cambridgeshire), and the sarcophagus fragment from Castor (Northamptonshire) (Cramp 1977, 213; Lang 2000, 111). The ‘angel’ sculptures carved in high relief from Lichfield Cathedral (Staffordshire) and Breedon-on-the-Hill (Leicestershire) also probably reflect deliberate affiliation with Rome and contemporary trends in the use of antique iconography in the creation of new imperial fashions (Rodwell et al. 2008, 77).

Diocesan towns, AD 600–900

These monuments were carved in the decades when Alcuin of York was a confidant of Charlemagne at his courts in Aachen and Frankfurt, and later Abbot at St Martin of Tours, and when King Offa of Mercia was a close ally of Charlemagne; both used Roman imperial symbolism in the settlements and landscapes of their political hegemonies (Chapter 6). The immediate context of the creation of these small groups of monuments within the very ‘Eurocentric’ circumstances of the dioceses of York and Lichfield was possibly metropolitan competition with Canterbury. The ecclesiastical territories of the Archbishops of York and Bishops of Lichfield were linked to the most powerful secular rulers of North and South Humbrian England respectively, and they strove to reflect their direct contacts with the papal and Carolingian ecclesiastical hierarchies of the late eighth and early ninth centuries, without the intercession of Canterbury, reflecting the regional ecclesiastical identities of central and northern England and their entanglement with aspirations of secular elites. In conclusion, despite the undoubted importance of major monasteries in Anglo-Saxon England between the seventh and ninth centuries, and the relative independence of monastic institutions not directly under episcopal control, the composite nature of key episcopal central places, such as York, London, Canterbury and Winchester, was very similar if not identical to their major counterparts in West Francia. They were central settlements, in the ecclesiastical sense, for territories. They also housed secular authorities and some also served functions as major port hubs within regional and long-distance river and maritime networks. The concentration of secular and ecclesiastical patronage also resulted in resident artisan and merchant communities. In sum, they housed comparatively large and diverse populations, and the combined political, religious and economic functions of the settlements of York and London by the later eighth and ninth centuries probably justify their labelling as towns in the modern sense. Nevertheless, it would take redefinition of the relationship between regional central places and their hinterlands and the development of self-awareness on the part of their populations as being different from the settlements of the ‘countryside’ that would define urban settlements, during the tenth and eleventh centuries. That self-awareness of being outside and apart from the rural world was a legacy of the development of settled communities of specialist artisans and seafaring merchants at the polyfocal diocesan centres like York, London and Rouen, and the major port settlements of the Channel and North Sea coasts (see Chapters 9 and 13).

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AD 600–900

Perceptions of the land’s edge, seaways and seafarers

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Anglo-Saxon writers, usually monks writing from monasteries, and their works express a duality of view in relation to the sea, coastal margins and mariners. Firstly, works such as the eighth-century Life of St Guthlac present the marshland Fens and east coast of England as ‘liminal’, on the edge of the inhabited world, as desolate wastelands, and the beginning of the realm of demons (Felix Ch. 24, Colgrave 1956, 86–7). This liminal view of the edge of land has clear echoes in the heroic poem Beowulf which survived in a late tenth-century manuscript within the Cotton Collection, although it was probably written down in the later seventh or eighth century (Heaney 1999). The perception of a desolate waste between land and sea could reflect a generally held elite view of the wet margins of the land, from the seventh and eighth centuries, albeit expressed through the filter of Christian clerics and religious polemic. Above all, however, those who described the low-lying margins of the North Sea and Channel coasts as liminal wastes wrote from the perspective of landholding authorities who judged the value of land primarily on the basis of potential for arable cultivation. Not all of the coastlines of northwest Europe are low-lying with shifting currents and sandbanks, however, whether they be the cliff-lined coasts of northeast England, the chalk coasts of Kent and the Côte Opale, or the cliff coastlines of the Atlantic Approaches. It is striking, however, that no major trading port developed on the seafront of these cliff-lined coasts between the seventh and ninth centuries. There were smaller ports located upon them, such as Dover and Boulogne on the Channel but major river delta and estuarine locations were favoured for the largest mercantile and artisan centres. The second representation of the watery edge of the maritime world of the North Sea, Channel and Atlantic Approaches also comes from clerics but the connectivity provided by the coast, and more particularly coastal ports, is stressed. In an Anglo-Saxon context, Bede’s Ecclesiastical History provides a famous description of a Frisian slave-trader in London, during the late seventh century (HE IV, Ch. 23, Colgrave and Mynors 1969, 404–5);

Ports and maritime-oriented societies, AD 600–900

and Altfrid’s Life of St Liudger describes a colony of Frisian merchants at York in the late 760s (Altfrid, Vita Liudgeri, Chs. 11–12, Diekamp 1881, 16–17). These ports were gateways to and meeting points with those from foreign lands, as illustrated by St Willibald’s use of the Channel crossing from the port of Hamwic–Southampton to Rouen in the 720s, during his pilgrimage to Jerusalem (Scarfe Beckett 2003, 47). They were also peaceful venues for interaction between Christian and pagan worlds: the Frisian merchants of Bede’s day were still largely pagan, despite the activities of the Anglo-Saxon missionary Willibrord from the 690s (Parsons 1996, 30–48). Indeed, the extent of maritime connectivity between eastern England and Frisia probably encouraged the Anglo-Saxon missions, although with Frankish assent. Towns with foreign merchant communities within their ports, such as the documented Frisian merchant colony in mid eighthcentury York, could also be dangerous places. A Frisian merchant from the York colony killed the son of a noble by mistake, while the noble along with the wider citizenry of York were doing battle in the hinterland of the town against unspecified enemies, during the 760s. The Frisian community and St Liudger (also a Frisian) were then forced to flee to avoid the risk of reprisals (Altfrid, Vita Liudgeri, Chs. 11–12, Diekamp 1881, 17). Other nodes of connectivity are reflected in textual sources referring to the presence of Anglo-Saxon and Irish seafaring merchants at the Continental ports of Quentovic, Rouen and Nantes, located upriver from the estuaries of the Canche, Seine and Loire respectively. They acted as hubs for connection with different networks of merchant middlemen, whether Frankish, Jewish or Byzantine, based primarily on the main river transport corridors in West Francia (Lebecq 1997, 67–78). Seaborne mercantile activity in coastal areas away from major ports is also reflected in written sources. For example, Irish, British/Breton and Anglo-Saxon seafarers are recorded as having been active traders with the salt-producing region at the estuary of the River Loire, in the Baie de Bourgneuf/Pays de Retz area, between the later seventh and ninth centuries (Bruand 2008, 18). They are recorded as having traded at a toll collection landing place, called portus Vertraria, located on the coast to the south of the Loire estuary, and also at the nearby island monastery of Noirmoutier offshore (Bruand 2008, 10). The seaways are also recorded as bringing disorder, however, seen in opportunistic actions of seafarers who in other instances came to trade. For example, British merchants stole a quantity of lead from Noirmoutier, used in the production of salt by evaporation (Bruand 2008, 18). From the end of the eighth century, the seaways are also presented by churchmen, such as Alcuin, abbot of St Martin of Tours, as conveyors of death and

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destruction through raiding by pagan ‘northmen’ from Scandinavia (Alcuin, Ep. 130, Dümmler 1895, 193). Nevertheless, despite the seaways conveying danger, Susan Rose has recently observed that a very significant proportion of surviving Anglo-Saxon poetry, predominantly written down in the tenth and eleventh centuries, demonstrates an intimate link between the sea, seaborne travel and Anglo-Saxon mentality (Rose 2007, 3). The connectivity and freedom of movement provided by the seaways is stressed equally, if not more so, in sources relating to Scandinavians. The prose description of the travels of Ohthere, inserted into the Old English translation of Orosius at the court of Alfred the Great of Wessex, provides a key illustration of the range of maritime travel and the ports of call for this Norwegian chieftain-cum-merchant, ranging from the Arctic regions of northern Norway, to the North Sea and Channel coasts of England (Bately and Englert 2007). At the same time, however, other sources provide abundant evidence of Scandinavian seaborne warfare, from the attacks at Lindisfarne and Portland (Dorset) on the North Sea and Channel coasts in the late eighth century, to the more organised raids and campaigns of conquest between the ninth and eleventh centuries, around the coasts of Britain, the Netherlands, Flanders, northern and western France, and the Atlantic coast of Iberia (Mazzoli-Guintard 1996, 27–37; Swanton 1996; Redknap 2000). The circumstances glimpsed in textual sources of both liminality and connectivity, and opportunity and danger for coastal-dwellers and seafarers are abundantly reflected in the growing archaeological signatures of coastal societies in northwest Europe, between the seventh and late ninth centuries.

Ports in context Much has been written in the last thirty years about the emergence of coastal and estuarine ports (often termed emporia) from the later sixth and seventh centuries onwards, around the English Channel and the North and Baltic Seas. The ports-of-trade model espoused by Richard Hodges in the 1980s, with some later amendments stressing the importance of specialist commodity production and exchange, has been particularly influential during the last quarter century for the interpretation of the roles of these trading and artisan settlements from the mid seventh to mid ninth centuries. These ports were viewed as foundations by Frankish, Anglo-Saxon and Scandinavian kings in order to consolidate and enhance their ruling authority. In particular, these central places were seen as entry-points for

Ports and maritime-oriented societies, AD 600–900

the controlled redistribution of luxury ‘prestige’ objects, which had social value due to their rarity. This was accompanied by the suggestion of a change in the organisation of production, both in the rural world and in the fabrication of specialist products at emporia (Hodges 1982, 50–6, 1989, 84–7; Moreland 2000b, 72–6). At the time when these ideas were put forward and generally accepted, however, comprehensive publication of much of the excavated remains from most emporia ports had not yet been achieved. Furthermore, detailed studies had not been undertaken of settlement patterns and exploitation of coastal zones adjacent to emporia, nor of relations between emporia and hinterlands in landward interiors, away from the coasts. In that context, the theoretical associations linked with the ‘port-oftrade’ idea were superimposed onto English Channel, North Sea and Baltic Sea ports, namely, that the settlements were controlled sites of exchange in luxury prestige objects and centres for specialist production, organised for the support of royal families and regional landholding aristocracies. John Moreland also highlighted the multiple spheres in which these settlements functioned, with their roles as foci for the redistribution of prestige goods via gift-exchange probably existing alongside their role in specialist commodity production, exchange and taxation. The likelihood that emporia contributed to profound transformations in the organisation of rural production and provisioning mechanisms, or reflected changes that had already taken place was also stressed, not least in the provisioning of the dietary needs of emporia (Moreland 2000b, 80–1). Significantly, Moreland also questioned the paramount role of kings and royal families as the sole controllers of the distribution of rare commodities derived from longdistance exchange, apparently channelled by emporia, but he still emphasised the role of elites in controlling surpluses and their transformation into imported goods via exchange (Moreland 2000b, 101–3). Subsequent studies, in the later 1990s and early 2000s, of import distributions in rural hinterlands of emporia have further stressed the likely channelling roles and links between predominantly elite rural centres and emporia, emphasising connectivity between the ports and their hinterlands, and also the impact of the ports on the use of specific artefacts, such as coinage, in their surrounding regions (Palmer 2003, 48–60; Naylor 2004, 2012). The recent trend to stress the connectivity of ports with their landward rural hinterlands, especially via elite hierarchies and networks, has diminished the analysis of the port settlements themselves and of the archaeological signatures provided by their populations, in regard to their liminality or ‘otherness’, compared to most contemporary rural communities. In much

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of northern European scholarship, the emphasis on control of surpluses and exchange as a preserve of landed elites has also resulted in the presentation of merchants operating from these ports as highly subordinate clients, acting on behalf of secular and ecclesiastical patrons. In England, the potential for merchant seafarers to trade and make a profit, in addition to working for their patrons, has rarely been considered seriously in the last twenty years, nor has their social background as people from coastal seafaring regions. Only in recent publications in relation to Hamwic–Southampton and Lundenwic–London have the independence and profit-making abilities of merchants been considered to a limited extent (Malcolm, Bowsher and Cowie 2003, 189–90; Birbeck 2005, 192). The studies by Stéphane Lebecq and Peter Schmid for Frisia and the North Sea coast of Germany provide rare and now quite old studies of the social backgrounds of the seafaring and farming communities from whom specialist merchant households are likely to have emerged. Both envisaged potential to profit as a stimulus to the emergence of specialist seafaring traders, from the sixth and seventh centuries onwards (Lebecq 1983; Schmid 1991). Similarly, the more recent work of Sindbæk has also stressed that a profit-motive drove long-distance traders in Scandinavia, which stimulated a hierarchy of trading places as nodal points, not divorced from political support but alongside it (Sindbæk 2007, 128–9). The origin of the long-distance traders and how such specialists developed within the context of coastal societies was not discussed, however. Nor was the social make-up of the nodal points themselves. The following discussions aim to provide that context and address some of the complexities of the populations of port settlements, in relation to their world-view, the basis on which they lived their lives and their role as agents of social change.

Life on the edge: coastal societies and maritime networks Despite often comprising poor-quality land of saltmarshes, fens and sand islands, the coastal tracts of northwest Europe can increasingly be shown to have been dynamic and settled landscapes, with zones that were permanently and seasonal inhabited. They were marginal from the perspective of landowning authorities, who judged value on the basis of cereal production, and communication with and within coastal regions was often difficult by land. Yet viewed from the perspective of mariners and transport by ship or boat, the coastal regions were far from marginal. They were the transport corridors that glued western Europe together, linking not just

Ports and maritime-oriented societies, AD 600–900

northwest Christendom but also the Islamic West (Al-Andalus) and the pagan Scandinavian north (Westerdahl 2000, 13–18). Both the liminality and connectivity of coastal marshes, deltas and estuaries in northwest Europe resulted in maritime cultural landscapes where the agricultural limitations of coastal marshes and direct contacts with mariners promoted the existence of societies with a tendency towards specialisation and exchange (Westerdahl 1992, 2000). Difficulty of access to many of the marshland coastlines, between land and sea, also made their inhabitants difficult to police on a regular basis by officers of political authorities from landward interiors, and hence the coastal fringes were landscapes of opportunity. Exactly the same observation has been made for coastal marshes of the Mediterranean, in relation to the Veneto region and the Po delta. A similar difficulty of access to the marsh islands by political powers in the latter regions aided in the rise of the seafaring and trading settlements of Comacchio and Venice during the seventh century (Horden and Purcell 2000, 189–90; Gelichi 2007, 365–86, 2009, 22–35). Shipping in the early medieval period required landfalls and landing places regularly in order to reprovision with food and fresh water, and the coastal islands and beach-landing sites of northwest Europe seem to have provided these provisioning functions, often away from the eyes of ruling authorities. The poor quality of coastal landscapes for large-scale arable cultivation promoted the development of specialist activities, especially salt production and animal husbandry of cattle and sheep. The regularity of contact with mariners also gave all the inhabitants of estuaries, coastal marshes and tidal creek systems access to certain imports that was not matched except at emporia ports or major rural centres, between the seventh and ninth centuries. Three regional case studies, from the North Sea coast of eastern England between the Humber estuary and the Fens, the North Sea coast of Flanders and Frisia, and the Atlantic coast of France from the Loire to Charente estuaries illustrate different aspects of coastal social practices and social fabric, reflected through a combination of archaeological and textual evidence.

Eastern England from the Humber estuary to the Fens The settlement pattern around the Humber estuary, between the mid seventh and late ninth century, appears to have comprised landing places and hamlets in the vicinity of the coast or marshland edges, with major estate centres both in their immediate hinterland and further inland along major rivers. For example, the estate centre at Flixborough (Lincolnshire)

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overlooked the delta zone of the River Trent; the likely estate centre at Holton-le-Clay (Lincolnshire) overlooked a probable tidal creek and the Lincolnshire sea marshes; and the estate centre at Driffield (East Yorkshire) was sited at the headwaters of the River Hull (Map 5). Only the Northumbrian royal estate at Driffield, however, has a textual reference denoting its tenurial character. Within the marshland landscape along the east coast from the Humber to the Fens, the results of the Fenland Survey and subsequent excavations indicate a landscape of farmsteads or small hamlets sited on sand islands (roddons) within less well-drained marshland, sometimes located in proximity to tidal creek waterways. Others seem to have lined the landward edge of the marshland. The key feature of all elements of the settlement hierarchy of the seafront and coastal marshland zones between the Humber and the Fens, between c. 650 and 850, was access to imports from regions of Continental Europe facing onto the North Sea and Channel, as well as access to particular types of object manufactured at certain major trading emporia. There were certainly differences in quantities of imports consumed, and sometimes differences in the types of imported goods, between farmsteads and small hamlets on the one hand, and larger settlements on the other. Yet differentiation of the status of sites and the social spectrum of their inhabitants on the basis of access to imported goods is a complex task, as certain people on all settlements had access to them in this coastal region. Normative assumptions of value often applied to imported goods have to be balanced with the specific dynamics of coastal situation, ease of waterborne access, and specialist activities in coastal settings. For example, starting at the base of the settlement hierarchy, the occupants of the previously discussed hamlets at ‘Chopdike Drove’ and ‘Mornington House’, around the modern settlement at Gosberton (see Chapter 5 and Map 5), all possessed small quantities of imported blackor grey-burnished pottery wares from northern France or the Low Countries, as well as lava quern-stones from the Niedermendig area of the middle Rhineland. Both hamlets also had access to larger quantities of Ipswich ware, made at the port of Ipswich (Suffolk), in the kingdom of East Anglia (Figure 17) (Blinkhorn and Fryer 2005). The pattern was repeated at the hamlet of Ingleborough (Norfolk), also located on a sand island, to the north of West Walton, where Ipswich ware and sherds of northern French grey-burnished ware and Tating ware, from the Rhineland, were recovered. And again, Ipswich ware was also found at the saltmaking hamlet of Fishtoft, neat Boston (Lincolnshire), sited on a tidal creek (Figure 17) (Blinkhorn in Cope-Faulkner forthcoming). None of the settlements

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Figure 17 Distribution of Ipswich ware between the Humber estuary and the Fens in eastern England

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yielded large metalwork assemblages, however, and coinage was largely absent, apart from two early to mid eighth-century sceattas from West Walton, from Frisia (Series E) and probably Ribe in Denmark (Series X). The specialist rearing of cattle, sheep and horses is reflected at the Gosberton sites, as well as iron-smithing (see Chapter 5); and definitive evidence of salt production has been found at the settlement of Fishtoft. Various marine fish species from Fishtoft, including flatfish, cod and whiting, also reflect coastal and inshore fishing (Locker in Cope-Faulkner forthcoming). Hence, all the hamlets seem to have been involved in specialist activities for exchange, perhaps to pay estate renders in some cases, but at the same time access to imported querns and pottery also suggests direct exchange with mariners. The generally limited discard of coinage suggests, however, that exchange with mariners was conducted by direct barter, whether for their reprovisioning or for commodities. The absence of coinage and metalwork on the fenland sites has been remarked upon by Katharina Ulmschneider in her analysis of sites represented by metalwork scatters (so-called ‘productive sites’) in Lincolnshire. Sites yielding significant quantities of dress accessories and coinage were located on the landward side of the Fen edge, and they did not tend to possess as much Ipswich ware or Continental pottery. Coinage and non-ferrous metalwork would not have been unduly affected by soil preservation conditions in fenland or saline soils had they been discarded. Hence the sites with imported pottery represent a particularly coastal distribution (Ulmschneider 2000, 70). Direct exchange transactions with mariners could have occurred beyond all control of possible tenurial masters, and was probably related to locational opportunity and a tendency towards specialist production and exchange (Loveluck and Tys 2006, 152–3). Turning to coastal estate centres, the previously discussed settlement at Flixborough, overlooking the River Trent, 8 kilometres south of the Humber estuary, provides a currently unprecedented lifestyle of connection, consumption and production. Between the later seventh and early ninth centuries, its lifestyle of conspicuous consumption was supported by imported feasting kits, primarily represented by fragments of sixty-five glass vessels from northern France to the Rhineland. Other imports included approximately fifteen pottery vessels from the Continent, from the same broad region; lava querns from the Rhineland; and silver sceatta and penny coinage from Frisia, France and the Anglo-Saxon kingdoms of East Anglia, Mercia and Northumbria. Most notable, however, is the very high proportion of Frisian sceatta coinage (Series D and E) in the first decades of the eighth century. A small number of sceattas and a mid

Ports and maritime-oriented societies, AD 600–900

eighth-century denier of Pippin III were also derived from the port of Quentovic, in northern France. Whereas Gannon placed the striking and dispersion of many Anglo-Saxon sceatta issues firmly within the context of a monastic milieu prior to the mid eighth century, based on their Christian-inspired iconographies, their scarcity at Flixborough in favour of much larger numbers of Frisian coins, Quentovic issues, and Series R sceattas, probably struck at the port of Ipswich, emphasises direct exchange with mariners and ports at eighth-century Flixborough (Gannon 2003, 190–2; Archibald 2009). This pattern of connectivity was accompanied by consumption of animal resources on a vast scale, especially cattle. The period was also marked by significant exploitation of wild-animal resources, notably wildfowl from wetland margins, such as cranes, and also estuarine dolphins. Both the latter species are known to have been particularly favoured prey of the secular Anglo-Saxon aristocracy (Loveluck 2007a, 147–51). This dual emphasis on conspicuous consumption and exploitation of the landscape and inshore seascape, supported by use of feasting kits derived through exchange with mariners, encapsulates the secular elite milieu of the coast. During the ninth century, the focus of the inhabitants at Flixborough changed radically from conspicuous consumption to specialist production. Scale of production increased very substantially (see Chapters 7 and 8), and the working of new commodities such as lead reflects continuity of integration with river-based networks. Lead is known to have been transported by mariners working for ecclesiastical institutions, from the mines in the Peak District of Derbyshire, down the River Trent, out of the Humber estuary and down the east coast of England to Canterbury in the mid ninth century (Hart 1975, 102). The increased levels of commodity production at Flixborough, perhaps for export to a parent monastery or the trading centre reflected at Fishergate, in York, was accompanied by a huge decline in evidence for continued integration within maritime networks to the Continent, which might suggest a decline in maritime-orientation if it were not for the large quantities (over 260 sherds) of Ipswich ware pottery discarded at Flixborough, accompanied by silver penny coinage struck by the West Saxon kings and the archbishop of Canterbury, at mints in Kent. Both the Ipswich ware and the coins reflect continuity of maritime networks from the Humber estuary to southeast England up to the mid ninth century. However, the particular networks and the identity of the mariners with whom exchange was undertaken may have changed to a certain extent. If the trends from later seventh- to mid ninth-century Flixborough are compared to other nucleated settlements, excavated around the Humber

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estuary and in the Lincolnshire coastal marshes, there are immediate similarities with settlements documented or postulated as estate centres, for example at Holton-le-Clay, and in the Driffield area. The settlement at Holton-le-Clay was also located on a sand promontory, like Flixborough, and small-scale excavations have yielded quantities of imported Continental pottery and Ipswich ware from the eighth and ninth centuries, with some buildings (Sills 1982, 29–42). The scale of the excavations, however, does not allow for comment on its control of land-based resources. Again, Continental pottery and early use of coinage is also a feature of the Driffield area during the early eighth century, reflected in a coin-furnished grave, but the site of the documented Northumbrian royal estate centre has yet to be discovered, despite the density of discoveries of Anglo-Saxon finds in the town of Driffield itself (Loveluck 1996). The settlement at Riby on the landward edge of the Lincolnshire sea marshes also has the same traits in relation to imported commodities. A sherd of northern French black-burnished ware pottery was discovered, alongside some Ipswich ware and lava quern fragments and a Frisian sceat (Series E). Riding gear, weapons, some dress accessories and a large lead tank were also recovered (Steedman 1994). All the latter finds can be directly paralleled at Flixborough. The scale of excavation and the nature of the deposits did not allow a definitive conclusion on the scale of control over agricultural resources at Riby, but it does not seem to have had the same central role as Flixborough. Whether the settlement at Riby represents a secondary centre within an estate network or a settlement of independent free proprietors is unknown. Its use of imported pottery and its limited use of coinage are akin to the marshland hamlets, but the presence of people with weapons and an ability to move round the landscape on horseback suggest, perhaps, free rather than ‘high’ status. Above all, the pattern of nearly universal access to Continental imports amongst the coastal society between the Humber and the Fens, at least in terms of pottery and querns, may have resulted in different notions of value towards their possession compared to those of people further inland. Indeed, within an environment of relatively abundant access to imported goods, their use may not have conveyed any significant social message in this zone of direct contact with mariners, without their use on a grand scale in conjunction with consumption of animal and cultivated resources. These observations have a series of implications for our understanding of the role of the extramural port at Fishergate linked to the royal and episcopal foci at York, on the Rivers Ouse and Foss, upriver from the Humber. Firstly, it would appear that the centre at York did not exhibit

Ports and maritime-oriented societies, AD 600–900

any significant control over the actions of seafaring traders around the Humber estuary, nor is there evidence of control of their actions as they sailed up the east coast. The very widespread occurrence of imported goods in the coastal margins suggests that if there had been an intention to control access to imported goods on the part of Anglo-Saxon royal powers, using emporia as ports-of-trade, then they failed in that role. The relative paucity of imported goods, especially pottery, in the intervening area between York and the Humber estuary also argues against the idea that coastal imports were funnelled back from the port at York. Certain distributions of imported goods actually suggest the operation of different maritime trading activities along the east coast and around the Humber estuary, compared with those at Fishergate, York. This is perhaps reflected most clearly in the distribution of Ipswich ware (Figure 17). The excavations at Fishergate and other deposits from later seventh- to ninth-century York have yielded comparatively few sherds of Ipswich ware, perhaps as few as fifty sherds, and the ware is hardly represented in areas between York and a concentration around the Humber and Lincolnshire coastlines. The widespread occurrence of Ipswich ware only runs in a band approximately 10 to 15 kilometres in depth around the shores of Holderness and the Humber estuary and then extends southward down the east coast. There is no apparent character-related distribution in this coast and hinterland zone. Single vessels have been found in monastic contexts, at Beverley and Bridlington (East Yorkshire). Another sherd is represented at the settlement at East Garton (East Yorkshire). At Flixborough, over 260 sherds were present and others were found at Holton-le-Clay and Riby, as well as on all the coastal hamlets to the Fens. A rank-related distribution may certainly be reflected in quantities of Ipswich ware and in types of vessel represented but it is undeniable that a far greater spectrum of the population along the coast had access to Ipswich ware, in comparison to the inhabitants of York and its immediate hinterland. This suggests the existence of different exchange networks operating via the coast and via the trading centre at York, even though the same seafaring merchants may have been involved in both networks (Loveluck 2012). The existence of different trading networks may also be reflected in the use of coinage. Around the Humber, coinage was deposited at landing places and larger settlements from the end of the seventh century, and the vast majority of the coinage deposited was struck in Frisia, until the 730s. A Series X sceat, probably minted at Ribe, Denmark, was also found at the beach-landing place at North Ferriby (East Yorkshire) (Loveluck 1994, pl. 5.1). The earliest regnal silver coinage struck in Northumbria, by King

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Aldfrith (685–705), also has a concentration around the Humber and East Yorkshire coast, with discoveries at the monastery at Whitby and the Humber landing place at North Ferriby (Loveluck 1994, 158–9). Indeed, its wider distribution nationally also reflects waterborne transport along coastal seaways, with examples from ‘Staunch Meadow’, Brandon (Suffolk) and the port at Hamwic–Southampton (Loveluck 1996, 43–5). Interestingly, silver coinage dating from between the late seventh century and the 730s is currently rare in York, with only one Frisian issue being found at Fishergate (Kemp 1996, 66). This difference between York and the coastal zone indicates, firstly, that the Humber estuary was the major contact and exchange zone prior to the foundation of a port at York, and that the distinctiveness of the populations of the coast was maintained via direct maritime connections, even after the Fishergate settlement was in existence. There is a greater quantity of Continental pottery at Fishergate, however, when compared to the coastal settlements and this may reflect a greater concentration of foreign seafarers operating in York from the mid eighth century onwards, as the reference to the Frisian merchant colony at York in the 760s might suggest (Altfrid, Vita Liudgeri, Chs. 11–12, Diekamp 1881, 16–17). In this context it is also interesting to note that the coastal concentration of Ipswich ware is evident on the Humber primarily from the early ninth century, on the basis of current excavated sequences (Armstrong and Evans 1991, 10–14; Loveluck and Atkinson 2007, 68–81). This could reflect different mariners operating around the Humber, differential choice on behalf of foreign seafarers in terms of what to trade, or simply a changing chronological trend. Until recently, the locations of where the direct transactions took place with coastal populations have proved elusive, and indeed, the possibilities are complex. Concentrations of late seventh- to mid eighth-century sceattas at North Ferriby, on the north shore of the Humber estuary, and similar concentrations at Halton Skitter and South Ferriby (Lincolnshire), on the south bank, suggest beach trading sites in these locations; but a series of Fen edge and river landing places are also becoming apparent. For example, a seventh- to early eighth-century log-boat reused as part of the revetment for a landing place has been excavated at Welham Bridge (East Yorkshire), on the landward edge of Fenland waterways that would have led into the Humber (Allen and Dean 2005, 91–3). A second wooden revetment for a jetty landing place has also been excavated at Skerne (East Yorkshire), on the River Hull, close to Driffield, and it may have been linked to the estate centre (Dent, Loveluck and Fletcher, 2000). The

Ports and maritime-oriented societies, AD 600–900

actual locations of exchanges with mariners were probably the beach sites, and coastal and flat-bottomed river boats, such as the Welham Bridge logboat, could have been the principal method of dispersion of goods around the coastal zones. In some instances, however, seafaring merchants may have moored directly at riverside landing places close to deltas. Flixborough certainly had watermills below the settlement on the River Trent in 1066, and these are likely to have been combined with jetties, akin to Skerne. It is less likely, however, that seagoing ships sailed up the River Hull as far as Skerne, although seagoing ships were certainly based in Beverley, in the twelfth century. The locations of the contact between the inhabitants of small marshland hamlets and mariners are less easy to predict but the situation of the hamlets on tidal channels near river estuaries suggests that ships moored for the night, or to reprovision, would have been visible from some distance and contactable via river and coastal boats.

Coastal Flanders and Frisia Just as in low-lying eastern England, evidence of the range of settlements involved in exchange and production in coastal locations has increased very significantly in coastal Flanders and in the parts of the Netherlands known as Frisia in the early Middle Ages. It is also possible to make some comparisons with remains from a growing range of settlements situated further inland. Most of the evidence for coastal sites beyond the major ports is known currently from the area extending from the Dutch province of Friesland, through the Rhine delta and into the western extremity of Flanders. The ‘terp-mound’ settlements of Tijtsma–Wijnaldum and Tritsum in Westergo, Friesland provide examples of settlements in the Frisian coastal area with excavated evidence for access to high-value materials in the form of silver and gold, together with imported pottery from the Rhineland (Heidinga 1997, 38; Tulp 2003, 232). Indeed, seventh-century gold tremissis coinage and early to mid eighth-century silver sceatta coinage, struck in the Rhine mouths area and Frisia (Series D and E), have been recovered consistently with other imports on terp settlements across Westergo and Oostergo (Heidinga 1997, 32). Anthonie Heidinga has also pointed out that the occupants of the terps did not live in settlements with ostentatious structures (Heidinga 1997, 38). Consequently, Lebecq, Schmid and Heidinga have all suggested that the wide dispersion of imports on terps indicates occupants who could be characterised as wealthy ‘free peasant traders’ or ‘marchands–paysans’, rather than an aristocracy

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(Lebecq 1983; Schmid 1991; Heidinga 1997, 31–2). Thus, this settlement pattern and society located in the vicinity of the eighth- and ninth-century port of Medemblik possessed a wide access to imports, precious metals and coinage, prior to and during its existence. Moving westward from Friesland to the Rhine delta region, it is also becoming clear that imported items and commodities are consistently present on the known rural settlements and in cemeteries, dating from the late sixth century onwards. Some finds reflect long-distance exchange contacts across the North Sea to England, prior to the foundation of the port of Dorestad further upstream. Work by Menno Dijkstra on the settlement and cemetery at Rijnsburg and the cemetery at Katwijk, all at the mouth of the Old Rhine in southern Holland, has demonstrated the presence of Anglo-Saxon gilded display artefacts with affinities to Kent and East Anglia, including a style II drinking-horn terminal, with close parallels to those from Sutton Hoo, mound 1 (Bazelmans, Dijkstra and De Koning 2004, 24–6). In the Scheldt delta area too, a concentration of seventh- to ninth-century settlements with large quantities of imported ceramics has also been excavated near Woensdrecht, reflecting a regional pattern in the Scheldt–Meuse–Rhine delta zone (Trimpe Burger 1973; Verwers 1986). The researchers working on the Rijnsburg and Valkenburg (Map 4) (see Chapter 4) sites currently interpret their evidence for exchange as controlled by a regional aristocracy at estate centres (Bazelmans, Dijkstra and De Koning 2004, 22–3). However, the occurrence of imported materials could be interpreted in exactly the same context as the material from the Friesland sites. The presence of imports amongst the coastal and riverside settlements of the Old Rhine delta is widespread to the extent that control over exchange by an aristocracy can be questioned, in favour of a wider access to imported goods amongst free lineages in general. Bazelmans et al. themselves note an absence of any documentary evidence for toll collection or control of exchange in the coastal area of the Old Rhine delta, in contrast to Dorestad further inland (Bazelmans, Dijkstra and De Koning 2004, 23). And Heidinga has suggested that Rijnsburg, Valkenburg and Leiderdorp could have acted as market sites (Heidinga 1997, 32). To some extent, the long-term focus on the trading role of the Frisians might encourage the view that their coastal social relations were exceptional. Yet recent and current research further southwest, in coastal Flanders, suggests that this relatively abundant access to imported goods amongst coastal households in Friesland and the Rhine delta represents a wider picture along the Continental shore of the southern North Sea and Channel, akin to the low-lying coasts of eastern England.

Ports and maritime-oriented societies, AD 600–900

Detailed landscape research in the Kamerlings Ambacht of west Flanders has brought together archaeological stray finds, textual and topographic studies (Tys 2003), and new archaeological survey projects (Loveluck and Tys 2006) (see Chapter 3 and Map 1). This has demonstrated that at least small quantities of later seventh- to ninth-century imported goods were present on nearly all known early medieval settlements in this part of the Flanders coastal plain. Clusters of imported pottery from this period have been identified at Wenduine, Oostkerke (Hillewaert 1984), Stene (Decoster 1984), the beach near Middelkerke (Tys 2005), Leffinge–‘Oude Werf’ (Tys 2003, 232–42) and Wilskerke–Haerdepollemswal (Loveluck and Tys 2006) (see Chapter 3). The imported pottery included northern French black and grey wares and Badorf tablewares from the Middle Rhineland. Suspected dune or beach trading sites are also suggested near Oostende and La Panne, from surface finds of coinage (Scheers 1991, 32–42; Tys 2003). Silver coins have been found at Adinkerke, near Veurne (Termote 1992, 57–8); and a gold tremissis of the first half of the sixth century has been found at Walraversijde, near Oostende (Tys 2005). The coinage could reflect trading sites or, equally, it could reflect the extent of coin use by coastal dwellers for purposes of exchange. Analysis of the textual sources for property relations in the Flanders coastal plain, when they are attested from the tenth century onwards, also showed that the populations of these terp-focussed settlement hierarchies were mostly free peasants (Tys 2003, 266–73). They may have owed some dues to respective regional lords, whether counts or kings, but with the exception of these possible obligations there is no evidence that they came under any other significant socio-political control. As mentioned above, a similar situation has been suggested for the Westergo and Oostergo regions of Dutch Friesland (Heidinga 1997, 32) and Oost Friesland in Germany, where Schmid has suggested that free farmers lived in the higher coastal saltmarshes, involving themselves in wool production and trade from their Langenwurten settlement mounds (Schmid 1988, 134–7). The populations of the coastal landscapes, largely located on tidal channels, roddons or islands, possessed a maritime focus which did not fulfil all their subsistence needs. The primary activities for the nutritional support of their households seem to have focussed on sheep husbandry, salt production and, to a certain extent, fishing (Verhulst 1995a, 1998, 2002). As in eastern England, they must have been involved in a significant degree of exchange for the provision of staple commodities, such as the cereal component of their diet and wood. Hence, a predisposition towards inalienable exchange – trade for survival and profit – was a defining feature

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of these coastal societies that provided the milieu for the further specialisation of some to become the seafaring merchants, documented from the seventh to ninth centuries. Their likely major commodities for exchange would have been wool or finished wool garments, salt and probably fish (Ervynck, Van Neer and Pieters 2004; Tys 2005). Within their home landscapes and island-scapes, mariners and river-based boatmen do not seem to have been limited in regard to the destinations for their products or their ability to amass material wealth. The extent of dispersion of imports and coinage throughout the settlement and social hierarchy, whether terps, hamlets, possible estate centres, episcopal-cum-monastic settlements such as Utrecht (Van Rooijen 2010, 160–1) and ports sets this liminal world of maritime connection apart from the Continental interior. The extent of the networks of mariners from Flanders to Frisia is reflected by the dispersion of artefacts traded by these seafarers. The widespread occurrence of Frisian silver sceatta coinage (primarily of Series D and E, minted c. 700–30) in the coastal regions of eastern England has already been noted, reflecting trading relationships primarily focussed on the regions between the estuaries of the Rivers Solent and Humber. Frisian coins of the early eighth century (Series E) have also been recovered from Dunbar (Lothian) and Portmahomack (Inverness), however, on the coast of eastern Scotland (Blackburn 2000, 168–9; Carver 2004, 23); and also at the beach trading site at Meols (Cheshire) in the Wirral peninsula, facing on to the Irish Sea (Griffiths, Philpott and Egan 2007; Griffiths 2009). There are also suggestions from hoards of Carolingian silver denier and obole coins in Frisia of other westward exchange routes travelling beyond the Channel coast to the Atlantic Approaches of the Bay of Biscay and the Loire, Charente and Gironde estuaries. For example, the mid ninth-century Roermond hoard (Dutch Limburg), dredged from the banks of the River Meuse, in the hinterland of the Meuse–Rhine delta region, contained large numbers of oboles and deniers, minted in Aquitaine, Bordeaux and the mint at the silver mines at Melle, alongside a larger number of issues from Orléans, Paris, Sens, Rheims and Dorestad (Zuyderwyk and Besteman 2010, 86). The thirty-two oboles from the ‘Aquitaine’ mint, assumed to have been minted somewhere in the Gironde estuary region, suggest direct exchange with that region on the part of seafarers, either Frisian or Scandinavian, perhaps within the context of the Atlantic salt trade. Anglo-Saxon, Irish and British seaborne merchants were certainly trading for salt along this coast in the seventh and eighth centuries (Bruand 2008). Other exchange relations between Anglo-Saxons, Scandinavians and

Ports and maritime-oriented societies, AD 600–900

Atlantic France, south of the Loire, are suggested at the river landing place on the River Charente at Taillebourg (Charente-Maritime), where six swords of Anglo-Saxon and Scandinavian types have been recovered, alongside twenty spearheads and ten axe-heads, amongst other metal and ceramic finds, dating from the seventh to tenth centuries (Dumont 2009; Chapelot 2012, 147). In addition to the routes westward, it is also clear that there were similar networks travelled by Frisian seafarers along the northern German coast to Denmark and Norway, between the seventh and ninth centuries. Indeed, the extent of the Continental North Sea coast deemed to house ‘Frisians’ in this period may well have included the coastal regions to Lower Saxony. The occurrence of imported pottery and glass vessels manufactured in the Rhineland from the coastal regions of Oost Friesland and Lower Saxony is certainly identical to the coastal dispersion of such artefacts across the social spectrum in Frisia and coastal Flanders (Both 1999). At the same time, such a pattern of access is also identical to that seen in the low-lying coastal regions of eastern England and could simply reflect integration within the same maritime networks and a common maritime orientation, rather than a common ethnic affiliation. Greater levels of portable wealth across the coastal social hierarchy of Oost Friesland and Lower Saxony may also be reflected in a comparatively wide dispersion of weapons, notably swords and seaxes, during the eighth and early ninth centuries (Aouni 1999, 175). A growing distribution of seventh-century Frisian artefacts is also emerging from western Scandinavia. For example, gold tremissis coins, minted by the moneyer Madelinus at Dorestad in the 670s, have been found at the port of Kaupang (Oslo fjord, Vestfold, Norway) and the settlement at Jelling (southeast Jutland, Denmark) on the Vejle fjord, later a Danish royal centre if not already so by the later seventh century (Skre 2007; Mohr Christensen 2008, 3–10). Frisian Series E sceattas have also been found at the port of Ribe (southwest Jutland), along with a wealth of imported goods from the Rhineland, such as glass vessels, Tating and Badorf pottery wares and other imports (Jensen 1991, 16–17; Feveile, L. 2006; Feveile, C. 2006a, 289–90). Frisian trade with the port of Ribe is abundantly reflected not just at Ribe itself but also in the wider distribution of the Series X ‘Wotan monster’ sceattas, probably minted at Ribe, between c. 710 and the 730s (Feveile, C. 2006a). They are found in coin hoards as at Hallum (Friesland), where 214 Series X sceattas were found in a pottery vessel, probably reflecting storage of capital and the ‘portable wealth’ focus of the inhabitants of the North Sea coast and island-scapes (Jager 1996, 96–7);

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and they are also found at major ports, such as Hamwic–Southampton (Metcalf 1988, 19–20) and more widely along the coast of eastern England. It is unclear, however, whether the dispersion of series X sceattas was a reflection solely of Frisian trade or whether it reflects analogous trade undertaken by Danish seafarers around the North Sea basin, in the first half of the eighth century. Frisian dress accessories from harbours of large coastal or fjord-edge settlements, beyond the major ports like Ribe and Kaupang, suggest that other direct exchange contacts with Frisian seafarers also took place. For example, at the settlement at Stavnsager (East Jutland) on the Grund fjord (Map 4), a Frisian Domburg-type brooch has recently been recovered (see Figure 18). The settlement, with a central core covering 50 hectares and outlying foci, seems to have housed a cult focus and warrior elite amongst a specialist craft-working and agricultural population, between the sixth and ninth centuries, prior to a major transformation of its harbour in the Viking Age (Fiedel, Høilund Nielsen and Loveluck 2011; Loveluck 2012). Brooches of the ‘small-equal-armed’ variety, made for women in Jutland between the sixth and early seventh centuries have also been found at the Frisian terp settlement at Tijstma– Wijnaldum (Høilund Nielsen 2009). The eighth- and ninth-century glass palm cups, funnel beakers and Tating-ware pitchers from the far north of Norway at Borg (Lofoten Islands) could also reflect the northernmost reaches of Frisian maritime networks (Holand 2003a, 203–9, 2003b), to mirror the Frisian coins at Portmahomack and Dunbar, on the coast of Scotland. Again, however, given evidence for Scandinavian use of Rhineland material culture and Frisian coins in the eighth century, both northern distributions could as easily reflect the activities of Scandinavian seafarers. In summary, in the coastal plains, tidal-creek systems and island-scapes of Frisia and Flanders there is evidence for unbroken settlement, commodity production and maritime trading networks spanning the North Sea, the Channel and to a lesser extent the Irish Sea and Atlantic Approaches, from the late sixth or seventh century until the late ninth century. The emerging settlement evidence suggests a permanently occupied and productive landscape in the coastal fringes from Flanders eastwards to the Scheldt–Meuse– Rhine delta region and beyond, housing people whose home landscapes necessitated specialist production and hence waterborne travel and exchange to meet their nutritional and wider needs. This in turn led to the development of specialist seafaring traders and a general level of portable wealth throughout the coastal populations. The wealth of these

Ports and maritime-oriented societies, AD 600–900

Figure 18 Frisian Domburg-type copper alloy brooch (length 40 mm), dating from the seventh century, found on the settlement at Stavnsager, East Jutland

coastal societies also helps explain a long-standing textual and archaeological paradox: namely, the large ringforts constructed from the end of the ninth century, from Veurne in West Flanders to Oost-Souburg, Domburg and Burgh in the Scheldt delta and Rijnsburg in the Rhine delta (Henderikx 1995, 76–81; Lebecq 1995; M. Dijkstra pers. comm.). These large ringforts have been interpreted as vluchtburgen or ‘refuge forts’ during periods of Scandinavian raiding, in their late ninth- to early tenth-century stages (Henderikx 1995, 71). Yet historians and most archaeologists have, until very recently, viewed the Flanders and Zeeland coastal plain as seasonally occupied with sparse populations. The explanation for the construction of the ringforts is now apparent, however, in the indications of a vibrant, permanently occupied settlement hierarchy which was worth protecting and controlling closely.

The Channel and the Atlantic Approaches New discoveries achieved predominantly through archaeological excavations and new research on existing textual sources are also in the process

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of transforming our knowledge of the nature and activities of coastal societies on the Channel coast and Atlantic Approaches of England and France. On the English side of the Channel, between the smaller ports at Dover and Sandwich and the major emporium at Hamwic–Southampton, excavations and discoveries of metalwork scatters over the past decade have revealed a picture of a complex coastal landscape of rural settlements with their own harbours and beach landing places, possibly linked to rural centres further inland. With the exception of the Kentish and Sussex coastal marshes, the Channel coast offered a more stable series of harbours for mariners than the low-lying margins of eastern England to the Humber, or Flanders and Frisia. Hence, these Channel harbours may have been easier to police. Having said this, the sheer number of small landing places becoming apparent suggests that political authorities would have been stretched to take tolls from mariners at all their points of landfall. This difficulty of policing and toll collection on the part of Anglo-Saxon royal officials (reeves) at the many harbours of the Channel coast is perhaps reflected by the killing of a reeve at Portland in 789, by Scandinavian traders-cum-raiders, who had travelled in three ships from Hordaland, in western Norway (Swanton 1996, 54–5). Away from the presence of a royal officer with enough manpower to enforce taxation of exchange directly, royal control in coastal areas may have been sporadic. Excavations at ‘Sandtun’, West Hythe, on the south coast of Kent, have revealed a beach and dune settlement on a coastal inlet, involved in crossChannel exchange from the seventh century until the late ninth century, with additional later reuse in the eleventh century (Gardiner et al. 2001). The discoveries at ‘Sandtun’ have provided the first comprehensive archaeological profile of such a beach site from the southeast coast of England, facing the Pas-de-Calais and Flanders. Gardiner has presented a very convincing argument for the site having been a settlement and landing place which housed a community involved in fishing, possibly salt production, cross-Channel exchange and supporting craft activity, including iron-smithing, textile production and leatherworking (Gardiner et al. 2001, 272). It was certainly linked to the royal and monastic polyfocal centre at Lyminge, possibly reflected by imported animal and crop remains that must have been derived from inland sources (Gardiner et al. 2001, 272–3). Recent excavations and test-pits at Lyminge (Kent), directed by Gabor Thomas, have identified the likely monastic and royal settlement foci, and significant quantities of large marine fish – cod and other species – were consumed at the presumed monastic focus, between the seventh and

Ports and maritime-oriented societies, AD 600–900

ninth centuries. Consumption patterns at the royal estate centre have yet to be identified through excavation (Thomas 2010a, 409–14). Imported greyware pottery and glass vessel fragments from northern France or Flanders and the presence of the marine fish, however, provide likely evidence of linkage between Lyminge and ‘Sandtun’, a relationship which is also attested by charter (Thomas 2010a, 412–13, 2011, 47). Thomas has observed that the range of imported pottery is more limited at Lyminge, despite royal and major monastic status (Thomas 2010a, 413), and the fact that imported pottery and coinage stayed at the landing place at ‘Sandtun’ suggests a relatively wide access to imported goods amongst a significant proportion of the coastal households and mariners there, despite their nonaristocratic rank and apparent clientage to Lyminge, for a proportion of their catches, produce and procured items. A very similar linkage between a dual royal and ecclesiastical centre at Eastry and a harbour at Sandwich (Kent) is also suggested. Archaeological evidence indicates that seventh- to ninth-century Sandwich should not be regarded as a major emporium but, instead, a smaller landing place (Clarke et al. 2010, 22). The harbour and settlement at Dover may have been larger, however (Philp 2003). The presence of marine fish, including cod, at Lyminge between the seventh and ninth centuries, and the consumption of herring, and probably cod, whiting and mackerel at the rural estate centre at Bishopstone (Sussex) by the ninth century (Reynolds 2010, 159–63), together with their presence at ‘Sandtun’ provide a growing body of evidence for the onset of exploitation of, at least, inshore marine fish, during the eighth and ninth centuries (Hamilton-Dyer 2001, 256; Sykes 2007, 57–8). Reynolds has argued that the impetus for this change of consumption from freshwater to marine species was promoted by the aristocracy, both secular and ecclesiastical, through sponsorship of the procurement and consumption of hard-won marine feast species, especially perhaps cod, for display dining on public occasions (Reynolds 2010, 164), perhaps analogous to the consumption of dolphins at Flixborough (see Chapter 7). The occurrence and consumption of these same marine fish species at ‘Sandtun’, and at the tidal-creek settlement at Fishtoft (Locker in press), however, should caution against the universality of such status-related conclusions. Coastal setting and maritime milieu promoted marine fish consumption at ‘Sandtun’ and Fishtoft, in the same way as they facilitated access to Continental imports. Of fundamental importance, however, is the identification of this emerging trend for marine fish consumption, primarily (at present) along the Channel coast, to place alongside the promotion of deep-sea fishing promoted by the Scandinavians in the northern British Isles from the ninth century (Barrett and Richards

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2004, 264–6). In both the latter instances, the onset of significant exploitation of marine fish occurred almost two centuries prior to the so-called ‘fish event horizon’ for their widespread consumption and the onset of commercial fishing and production of stock fish, at the end of the first millennium AD (Barrett, Locker and Roberts 2004). Integration within the maritime networks of the Channel coast and their importance is also reflected in the wider development of settlements. The aforementioned rural centre at Bishopstone was located in the lower reaches of the Ouse estuary, in Sussex, protected by an apron of coastal saltmarsh from the sea, with a probable landing place within a kilometre of the settlement. The origins of the settlement are obscure but by the 820s it had become a holding of the bishops of Selsey, and between the mid ninth and later tenth century it emerged as a manorial estate centre (Thomas 2010b, 206 and 215–16). Similarly, the rural centres at Steyning and Bosham, also in Sussex, were located on the River Adur on the landward side of coastal marshes and on a tidal inlet respectively. Both the latter probably had origins as minsters, during the later seventh century – whether monasteries alone or later attached to royal vill centres (Blair 1997). They became major secular estate centres during the course of the later ninth and tenth centuries, with Steyning becoming a major nucleated settlement whose inhabitants had burgess status by the time of Edward the Confessor (Gardiner 1997b, 169). Bosham became one of the principal estate centres of the Godwinson family during the first half of the eleventh century (MacDougal 2009). The growth of all these rural centres was intimately linked with the sea and Channel networks. Further west along the Channel coast of England, the increased discovery and reporting of metal finds over the last decade has also revolutionised our awareness of smaller landing places, portages and sites of exchange, beyond the large port at Hamwic–Southampton. Katharina Ulmschneider’s work on metalwork scatters recovered by metal-detector on the Isle of Wight and around the Solent estuary has identified a range of coastal sites with silver coinage, beginning in the early eighth century, probably indicative of small landing places and possibly markets (Ulmschneider 2003, 79–80). In some instances, they were probably linked to estate centres, as suggested by the finds from Bowcombe, near Carisbrooke, on the Isle of Wight (Ulmschneider 2003, 76–9). The presence of silver sceattas minted at Hamwic from Bowcombe certainly demonstrates exchange with the larger port. Yet the presence of other silver coins at Bowcombe not found at other sites around the Solent, from Frisia, France and East Anglia, also suggests maritime networks independent of the Hamwic emporium

Ports and maritime-oriented societies, AD 600–900

(Ulmschneider 2003, 80). West of the Solent, archaeological evidence for landing places and coastal exploitation is rare, largely due to different traditions of coin use and artefact discard prior to the tenth century. Yet documentary evidence shows that salt was already being produced at coastal salterns in Dorset by the late eighth century, and log-boats dating from the Anglo-Saxon period found at Langstone and Poole Harbour (Dorset) also attest to coastal, estuarine and river-based movement of goods and people using these craft (Hinton in Carver and Loveluck 2013 and others, 126). On the Channel to Atlantic coast of Devon and Cornwall, the range of landing places and coastal settlements used and inhabited between the seventh and later ninth centuries is hard to identify. It is difficult to be certain that the seasonally used landing place and dune–beach market at Bantham Ham (Devon) was used between the later seventh and late ninth centuries. The high archaeological visibility of exchange with the eastern Mediterranean and north Africa between the fifth and seventh centuries is not matched by an equivalent visibility of later seventh- to ninth-century finds but there is some evidence for the use of the site into the later Middle Ages (Fox 1955, 55–67; Silvester 1981, 89–118; May and Weddell 2002, 421). At Gwithian, in west Cornwall, however, the beach settlement appears to have enjoyed continual use between the eighth and twelfth centuries (Thomas 1958, 23). Yet the Trewiddle hoard (Cornwall) still remains the only known significant deposit of silver coinage in southwest England prior to the mid tenth century. West of Hamwic, there is no known major port with a large mercantile or artisan population on the Channel coast of England. The picture of settlement and activity beyond the major ports of Quentovic and Rouen, on the Channel coast of northern France, is as hazy as our knowledge of coastal societies west of the Solent in England, between the later seventh and tenth centuries. Yet, again, tantalising hints of societies similar to other coastal and maritime-oriented counterparts are gradually coming to light, predominantly from chance finds of objects, supported by more rare excavated evidence. Prior to the seventh century, interchange between the societies living along the Channel is abundantly evident, primarily in furnished grave evidence, with especially close links apparent between Kent and northeastern France, especially the Pas-deCalais and the Aisne and Oise valleys, and the Isle of Wight and the lower Orne valley in Normandy (Soulat 2009). Yet from the seventh century and especially after 650, the evidence of coastal activity in France is more scarce. Most of the excavated rural central places, whether estate centres like

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Biéville-Beuville (Calvados) and Locronan (Finistère), or monasteries such as Landevennec (Finistère), are in the hinterland of the coast. Currently, however, excavations are beginning to uncover small hamlets and farmsteads, dating mainly from the ninth and tenth centuries, on the sand roddons, saltmarshes and estuarine zones of rivers in the département of Nord, notably at Craywick, near Dunkirk, and Saint-Georges-sur-l’Aa, near Gravelines (see Maps 1 and 2) (Desoutter 2009; Lançon et al. 2010, 13–18). They represent the same pattern of coastal habitation as neighbouring West Flanders. Interestingly, both exploitation of marine fish species, such as cod, and whale species is evident at Saint-Georges-sur-l’Aa, hinting at the same onset of marine fishing seen on the Channel coast of England but again, as at ‘Sandtun’ and Fishtoft, the Saint-Georges household was not of elevated social status (Herbin 2010). Other coastal activity is marked at present only by a limited distribution of silver coinage, some of which are sceattas imported from England, struck between the 680s and mid 720s (Leroy 2009, 200–2). Some of these Anglo-Saxon silver coins were, nevertheless, used as media of exchange further inland via the Somme, Seine, Oise and Aisne river systems (Leroy 2009, 202). The role of these major northern river systems as transport corridors is being increasingly emphasised by the discovery of river boats from the Carolingian period, predominantly logboats, as in England, such as the large example found at Noyen-sur-Seine (Seine-et-Marne), 14.50 m by 5 m in size (Rieth and Serna 2010, 294). One is left with the impression, however, that the current coastal distributions may hugely underrepresent past reality, as many of the coin and metalwork finds in England have been reported by private metal-detector users, whereas such use of metal-detectors in France remains illegal. From Brittany around to the Atlantic coast of the Bay of Biscay, however, a more dynamic pattern of coastal activity, exchange and settlement is manifested, between the seventh and ninth centuries, in textual sources, in the distribution of coinage and metalwork recovered from hoards and chance finds and from more limited excavations. Textual studies have recently emphasised the leading role of independent peasant proprietors in the production of salt and its sea- and river-based distribution from the Loire and Charente estuaries, from the seventh century onwards. Bruand, in particular, has emphasised the role of these small saltproducers-cum-coastal mariners, also observing that when large ecclesiastical institutions were granted salterns, they were granted already existing salt-producing infrastructure and did not create it anew (Bruand 2008). There was also a major port just south of the Loire estuary, at a site known in textual sources as portus Vertraria (Bruand 2008, 10–11). This may not

Ports and maritime-oriented societies, AD 600–900

have had a major resident mercantile or artisan population but may, instead, have functioned principally as a point of royal taxation of salt production and trade. The textual sources also emphasise the international participation in Atlantic maritime networks, with Irish, British and AngloSaxon mariners all mentioned from the late seventh century onwards, trading salt and raiding in the Loire estuary. Archaeological evidence is now emerging to corroborate the dynamism of this Atlantic maritime zone. The type of ship used to export commodities such as salt around coasts, estuaries and along major rivers is likely to be represented by the seventh-century, clinker-built coaster found at Port Berteau (Charente-Maritime), found in the River Charente, near Saintes (Rieth, Carrierre-Desbois and Serna 2001, 112–15). The international character of the networks is also illustrated archaeologically by the seventh-century distribution of wheel-thrown cream-ware pottery (known as ‘E’-ware in the British Isles), made between the Gironde and Loire estuaries, which extends to southwest England and the Irish Sea coasts of Wales, Scotland and Ireland (Randoin 1981; Campbell 2007; Galinié with Husi et al. 2007). It is very possible that the exchange of this pottery may have been an aside to a wider trade in salt, and possibly wine, distributed in barrels by this date (Wooding 1996, 74–7). The river landing place at Taillebourg provides evidence for the nature of riverside harbours facilitating distribution of goods to and from the coastal seaways. The pottery and 685 metal finds from the site, together with the discovery of log-boats for river transport, suggest that the landing place covered several hundred metres on the right bank of the Charente, between the seventh and tenth centuries (Dumont 2004; Chapelot 2012, 147–8). Swords of Anglo-Saxon and Scandinavian types have been recovered from the environs of the landing place, along with the other weapons; and also lead finds, with an isotopic signature from Melle (Tereygeol 2007, 133). The recorded obligation of the silver-cum-lead mines at Melle to send 8,000 pounds of lead on a biannual basis to the monastery at Saint-Denis, recorded in the ninthcentury Gesta Dagoberti, also testifies to the vibrancy of the river and maritime transport networks of the Atlantic coast (Tereygeol 2007, 123). The large proportion of mid ninth-century Carolingian silver coins, minted at Melle and in ‘Aquitaine’ in the Roermond hoard, from Frisia, also suggests direct Frisian or Scandinavian maritime connections between the North Sea and Atlantic coasts. Finally, a small but growing distribution of silver coins (dirhems), minted at Cordoba in Islamic Spain between the mid eighth and ninth centuries, also hints at exchange networks with Atlantic Iberia on the part of mariners

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from southern France, and perhaps also by Scandinavians, known to have been trading with and raiding the coastal and riverine centres of Atlantic France and Al-Andalus during the mid ninth century, including Melle, Lisbon, Cadiz and Seville (see Map 3) (Mazzoli-Guintard 1996, 28–9; Tereygeol 2007, 124; Clément 2008, 160–1). These Islamic coin finds occur along the coast and in the proximity of the ports at Nantes and Bordeaux, just inland from the estuarine meetings of the Rivers Loire and Gironde with the Atlantic. In summary, with the emergence of this archaeological evidence from Atlantic France and the renewed interest in textual evidence for its early medieval coastal and maritime economy, one can conclude that the relative importance of Atlantic networks has been hugely underestimated in favour of an emphasis on the importance of the North Sea and eastern Channel, for the period between the seventh and tenth centuries.

Peopling ports: the dynamics of portable wealth and social change If, as appears to be the case, revenue generation through tolls at the extremities of the Frankish realms was the primary concern of the later Merovingian and Carolingian kings (Verhulst 2002, 130), then the ways in which major ports and other sites of exchange functioned need to be reassessed. Both Stéphane Lebecq and Michael McCormick have suggested that the foundation of settlements like Domburg, Dorestad, Quentovic and the major Anglo-Saxon emporia was a result of the maritime dynamism of mariners involved in cross-Channel and North Sea exchange networks, which were transformed and had controls imposed on them significantly later than their foundation, in the form of royal officers administering toll collection (Lebecq 1997, 75; McCormick 2007, 44–6). Tolls appear to have been raised primarily on exported and imported bulk goods in coin and, perhaps, sometimes ‘in kind’. There is no evidence of great concern about access to imported luxuries as long as tolls were paid. At other significant ports, toll collection is indicated at Medemblik, Domburg, Rouen and portus Vertraria (Le Maho 2003, 235; Bazelmans, Dijkstra and De Koning 2004, 22–3; Bruand 2008, 10). There is parallel textual evidence from law codes and the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle showing that royal officers (reeves) administered collection of tolls at the major ports in England but, again, the number of reeves and their ability to administer all coastal trade is unlikely to have covered all landing places or exchange transactions. The current evidence from coastal regions indicates that large emporia ports

Ports and maritime-oriented societies, AD 600–900

certainly did not act successfully in controlling access to imported luxuries, if that was ever their role. Indeed, the weight of evidence for distribution of imports in coastal zones via smaller landing places and documented Carolingian attempts to try to force merchants to land at large ports for purposes of toll payment prove that seafaring traders regularly indulged in untaxed trade at smaller landfalls (McCormick 2001, 420). The past emphasis on the subordinate role of merchants and artisans to royal authority in ports has resulted in a lack of attention paid to the archaeological characteristics of the people themselves. Yet there are striking traits. For example, weapons were relatively abundant amongst the artisan and trading tenements both at Fishergate, York and at Hamwic– Southampton in England, as was evidence of riding gear, suggesting the ability to move around certain land routes quickly and travel considerable distances (Rogers 1993, 1428–32; Loader 2005, 53–79). Two bone swordguards were also recovered from eighth- and ninth-century deposits from the Royal Opera House excavations in Lundenwic-London (Malcolm, Bowsher and Cowie 2003, 60–1 and 112–13). Furthermore, in the refuse pits and house-interior deposits associated with the artisans and traders, imported glass vessel fragments of the finest quality, sometimes with reticella trails, have been found in large numbers, again at Fishergate, York (Hunter and Jackson 1993, 1333–42) and at different sites in Lundenwic–London (Stiff 2003, 241–4; Evison 2005, 60–1), and over 1,000 fragments have been recovered from Hamwic–Southampton (Hunter and Heyworth 1998; Every, Loader and Mepham 2005, 130). The assumption of the past was that the vessel fragments were for recycling as cullet, used for bead making (Stiff 2003, 246–2). Yet only in exceptionally rare instances has evidence for glass melting been discovered at English ports, at ‘Hare Court’ on the western periphery of Lundenwic and at ‘Six Dials’, Hamwic (Andrews 1997, 217; Butler 2005, 19). Even though greater evidence of glass melting and the importation of glass tesserae has been found from Ribe, in southwest Jutland, it can also be questioned whether all the fragments of 1,119 glass vessels were imported initially as broken fragments. The interpretation of their use as cullet for recycling has usually been made by specialists in the study of glass vessels and glass manufacture, without a consideration of overall lifestyles and access to a wider range of objects. Yet deposition of vessel glass fragments was spatially very widespread in household refuse pits and sometimes in floor deposits from house interiors, within ports. If the glass fragments had been destined for use as cullet, one might have expected some evidence of attempts to collect fragments together, as encountered in a Roman shipwreck from Grado and

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the eleventh-century ship from Serçe Limani, in the Mediterranean (Bass 2004; Beltrame and Gaddi 2007, 138). It must be concluded, therefore, that it is very unlikely that all the glass vessel fragments had been harvested at these North Sea ports for recycling alone. Instead, an appreciation of the sheer quantity of vessel glass fragments and the wide range of their deposition contexts makes it extremely likely that a significant proportion of merchant and artisan households were using the glass vessels as drinking containers prior to any recycling, and that they should not be seen as evidence of procurement of cullet from aristocratic households. Indeed, when the weapons, riding gear and glass vessels are considered together, it must be concluded that a significant number of mercantile households had access to the material culture of warfare, mobility and luxury drinking previously associated only with the highest secular aristocratic households at their rural estate centres. The ability of merchants to defend themselves and to participate in raiding and larger campaigns of warfare is also marked in the already mentioned Life of St Liudger, when the Frisian merchant killed a noble who had been serving in an army formed from the citizenry of York, some of whom may also have been merchants (Altfrid, Vita Liudgeri, Chs. 11–12, Diekamp 1881, 16–17). The question of the origins of the seafaring and artisan populations of major ports has been largely ignored in the last thirty years. The absence of consideration of the ‘origins issue’ relating to seafaring merchants also hampers an explanation for the suggested transformation from elite-led embedded exchange to more commercial alienable exchange during the eighth century. The archaeological and textual evidence emerging from the coastal margins of the North Sea, the Channel and now the Bay of Biscay suggests that specialist coastal producers and mariner populations, with abundant international connections, already existed by the seventh century. They already had a predisposition towards specialist activities and exchange on a commercial basis for their subsistence needs and daily life. Consequently, we can now question whether there was ever a transformation from socially embedded elite-led exchange to alienable commercial exchange in northwest Europe, between the mid seventh and later eighth centuries. Instead, a realignment of the relative balance between embedded and commercial exchange is now suggested by the evidence, with perhaps the more land-based embedded forms diminishing in the new port and manufacturing settlements, in favour of the adoption of the greater commercial focus that already existed among coastal communities. In this context, the numerically small maritime-oriented proportion of the societies of northwest Europe could have acted as agents of profound economic

Ports and maritime-oriented societies, AD 600–900

and social change as an unintended consequence of loose alliance with elites, rather than as a result of firm aristocratic direction. What set rural aristocrats apart from the merchant and artisan populations of the emporia was not their use of different items of portable wealth. Instead, the highest rural elites were marked out by their control of the resources of agricultural territories, and especially rituals of dominance in land- and seascapes, manifested by hunting, wildfowling and targeting of specific feast species, such as cranes and dolphins. The fact that the Severn estuary fisheries at Tidenham (Gloucestershire) were obliged to render annually six porpoises and 30,000 herrings to the minster at Bath, between the mid tenth and mid eleventh centuries, suggests active hunting of dolphins and porpoises rather than reliance on occasional strandings (Finberg 1976, 219–20; Hooke 1998, 51). So too, does the mention of porpoises as a catch of Ælfric’s typical fisherman, in his Colloquy of the early eleventh century (Swanton 1975, 171). In contrast, for artisan and seafaring communities of major emporia ports, their roles were defined by a much greater use of coinage, a broader usage of imported commodities in their everyday lives, and a greater ethnic diversity. This is not to say that the merchant and artisan communities were not the subject of policing and control. The discovery of the St Mary’s cemetery at Hamwic–Southampton, with its rich late seventh-century burials, often with weapons, and the ‘Buttermarket’ cemetery, at Ipswich, could represent evidence of royal officers with retinues to oversee toll collection and trade (Birbeck 2005; Scull 2009, 302–3). Yet the wider presence of weapons and other luxuries amongst the populations of the emporia now makes such an interpretation the subject of some debate. The need for a significant armed presence to control and tax armed and, to a certain extent, independent merchants would make sense from the administrative perspective of political authorities. The major ports must also have been highly gendered spaces during the sailing seasons of the year, when many of the men of seafaring–mercantile households were away from their home ports. In this context, the women of the households of seafarers would have led their families, or older men may have played a leading role. Such seasonal disparities in gender balance within the major emporia are very difficult to detect archaeologically. Yet the very fact that they existed may have promoted cooperative behaviour between royal power and growing merchant–seafaring communities. Royal power and law provided protection and relative security for merchant households, especially for the female members of families, while their men were away from their home ports.

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Conversely, royal law also provided protection for the men of seafaring merchant families when they entered and traded in foreign ports. While the movement of merchants and specialist artisans in a seaward direction might have been the subject of minimal control, once tolls had been paid and patronage changes negotiated, landward movement was, at least notionally, more regulated or influenced by greater customary practice, between the seventh and ninth centuries. Away from the coastal zones, imported luxuries do seem, in general, to have portrayed status-related relationships. In such circumstances, the presence of travelling merchants or specialist artisans whose physical appearance and portable lifestyle were the same as many landed aristocrats may have been deemed socially threatening and insulting to those with landed property, who regarded themselves as the social superiors of the itinerant specialists. Perception of threat from itinerant ‘outsiders’ is emphasised in the late seventh-century Anglo-Saxon law code of Wihtred, by the obligation on non-local travellers and foreigners to announce themselves with bells or horns, prior to leaving principal roads or trackways to approach settlements (Whitelock 1955, 364). Indeed, the perception of seafarer–merchants and craft specialists, especially metalworkers, as strange and outside ‘normal’ society may be one reason for specialist artisans banding together and locating themselves at ports in coastal zones, where predisposition for specialist production and exchange already existed. Alternatively, they could have been forcibly brought together at port settlements by royal authority, although that authority seems to have had distinct limits. The wealthy, mid seventh-century fine-metalworking smith found at Tattershall Thorpe (Lincolnshire), buried on his own, next to the marshland and waterways to the sea, with his tools, a bell, a fine seax and a silk-wrapped amulet, is emblematic of the transition from such ‘outsider’ itinerant artisan/merchants to the vibrant artisan and trading communities of the emporia ports (Figure 19) (Hinton 2000). Only in specific instances, however, can it be shown that the products of artisans working at the emporia were distributed widely into their landward hinterlands. In England, this is seen most clearly in the dispersion of Ipswich ware pottery throughout East Anglia, and to a lesser extent along the east coast and up some rivers draining into the North Sea. Imported lava quern-stones, from the Niedermendig area of the Eifel region near Cologne, are also very widely distributed across eastern England in eighth- and ninth-century settlement contexts (Parkhouse 1997, 101; Palmer 2003); and a significant proportion were probably derived via exchange contacts with the emporia ports, via river and overland routes. Some linkage is also seen in the dispersion of certain silver sceattas of the

Ports and maritime-oriented societies, AD 600–900

Figure 19 Drawing of the iron and copper-plated bell from the mid seventh-century smith’s grave at Tattershall Thorpe, Lincolnshire; height of bell 93 mm, height of loop 18 mm, width at base 80 mm, width at top 75 mm

secondary series into landward hinterlands, from the third decade of the eighth century onwards (Palmer 2003; Naylor 2004), for example, by sceattas of series R, probably minted at Ipswich (Gannon 2003), sceattas of series Y (and possibly the earlier series J), minted at York (Booth 2000; Archibald 2009), and to a lesser extent, sceattas of series H, minted at Southampton (Metcalf 1988). The distribution of these artefacts from emporia ports inland certainly demonstrates the development of exchange and that the ports did not act in a vacuum, as the wider

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distribution of imports in coastal zones also demonstrates. Nevertheless, the dispersion of goods into landward interiors did not always involve the rural populace travelling to major emporia. Instead, exchange was facilitated by merchant–peddlers travelling inland on a seasonal basis, taking goods like quern-stones and salt with them on packhorses, despite sometimes stringent customary regulation of overland movement. Exchange could have been facilitated by direct barter at individual settlements or at seasonal markets, as suggested for the site excavated at Dorney, in the middle Thames valley (Hiller, Petts and Allen 2002, 69–72). There is analogous evidence from northern France in the ninth century. A peddler is recorded as having traded salt, probably derived ultimately from the salterns of the Loire estuary, from Orléans to Paris, overland between the Loire and Seine river transport corridors. He had also travelled to Quentovic (McCormick 2001, 646). The wide dispersion of lava querns across the social spectrum of settlements, an increasingly wide use of coinage and the existence of seasonal markets also demonstrate that it was not just elites who were in receipt of and using these items. New evidence for the provisioning of the emporia ports also suggests the likelihood of members of the rural farming population travelling to ports, with mature animals for sale. Old assumptions of the provisioning of ports by royal ‘supply-on-command’ mechanisms are increasingly being challenged by evidence for farming settlements on the peripheries of Ipswich, and especially at London, where there would appear to have been a ‘halo’ of farmsteads around the Lundenwic port, very reminiscent of the situation at Dorestad (Van Es and Ververs 1980; Prummel 1983; Cowie et al. in press, Fig. 98). Indeed, in phases 4 and 5 at Lundenwic, between the mid eighth and mid-to-late ninth century, it is clear that significant animal husbandry was taking place on a series of the farms, including horse-breeding (Davis, Rielly and Blackmore in press). Similarly, at ‘Hare Court’, on the western edge of Lundenwic, the occupants of the late seventh- to ninth-century settlement were involved in the breeding of sheep, cattle and pigs, in addition to some craft specialisation (Bendry 2005, 65; Butler 2005, 20). In such circumstances, Helena Hamerow has suggested the likelihood of a market-based provisioning mechanism for the emporia, which would also explain distribution of goods into hinterlands as traded goods (Hamerow 2007, 225–6). The existence of specialist butchers processing meat for sale on a commercial basis has also been suggested, based on evidence from the Royal Opera House excavations within Lundenwic (Rielly 2003, 316–18). However, the animal-bone evidence from the excavations at Whitehall, outside Lundenwic to its west, also suggests provisioning of

Ports and maritime-oriented societies, AD 600–900

already butchered meat, primarily beef and mutton from sub-adult and mature animals. Cowie has suggested that the Whitehall settlement may have been a royal estate centre, on the basis of the size of the residential buildings and the domestic animal consumption patterns are certainly very similar to Flixborough and Portchester Castle (Green and Cowie 2008). The butchered meat could have been used to provision client butchers, merchants and artisans in the port but it is also possible that some of the meat could have been sold in a commercial sense, within Lundenwic. The maritime orientation of the populations of the ports is also marked by the presence of some marine fish species, such as haddock and herring at Lundenwic, and herring and mackerel at Hamwic, all of which suggest estuarine or inshore sea fishing (Bourdillon and Andrews 1997, 244; Armitage 2005, 67). In rare instances fragments of carcases of larger whale species have also been recovered that suggest they were eaten and were not subject merely to secondary use of their vertebrae as chopping blocks and raw materials for bone-working (Malcolm and Bowsher with Cowie 2003, 187; Bendry 2005, 65). It is usually assumed that whale products were derived from strandings in the eighth and ninth centuries (Gardiner 1997), although the Flixborough and Tidenham evidence may indicate some active hunting too. The point of importance here is the suggestion of some access to cetacean meat by port populations, which later became an exclusive right of the aristocracy. Small quantities of wild game derived from landward interiors are also recovered, suggesting some trade or gift-exchange for its procurement (O’Connor 1991, 255; Rielly 2003, 319). The port populations also had tastes that were exotic and beyond all except the secular and ecclesiastical elites. For example, imported walnuts and grape-seeds and the herb coriander (also possibly grown in Britain) were recovered from eighth- to ninth-century Hamwic (Biddle 1997, 246). The emerging picture from the major emporia ports is therefore one of great complexity. Both provisioning mechanisms by royal command and commercial market-based transactions were probably at work in the support of their daily needs. The dispersed lower-value imports and products of emporia and the distribution of luxury items in landward interiors also mark significant freedoms of movement for merchant–artisans from emporia and for members of some farming households. Inland, however, there was a more rank-related distribution of luxury imports, which marked the coastal zones as a ‘world apart’. That ‘otherness’ and, especially, the living of daily lives based on production, consumption and exchange of portable wealth in raw materials and finished goods is the defining characteristic that has emerged from emporia subjected to large-scale excavation. The lifestyles of the seafarers

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and artisans who lived at these centres, with their luxury glass drinking vessels, weapons, abundant silver coinage and exotic dietary tastes, reflect people operating on a commercial basis, and households who could amass wealth in their own right, not merely on behalf of patrons. The concentration of large numbers of coastal seafarers and specialists at the emporia ports may have been the result of their own initiative rather than royal agency, even though royal powers subsequently took over aspects of their administration. By the eighth century, these events certainly resulted in the intended outcome of revenue generation for kings by taxing trade. They also created the prospect of much greater wealth accumulation for seafarers and artisans, firstly, by greater densities of people who already had considerable experience of commercial exchange living in the same settlements, and secondly, through the establishment of royal protection over ports, which normally secured the safety primarily of the women, young and old of merchant–seafarer families while many of the adult men were abroad, and also secured the safety of foreign merchants in the ports. The ‘Pandora’s box’ of larger-scale commercial enterprise may thus have been opened through loose alliance and symbiosis between royal powers and mercantile interests, almost as an accident of greater royal desire to tax trade. Yet the political authorities and aristocracies of the day, whose power was based on land- and office-holding, did not regard materially wealthy mariners and specialists as having an elevated social rank. It is only the material culture that speaks of the significance of these eighthand ninth-century port populations. The social status equivalent to their material trappings would begin to be won between the tenth and mid twelfth centuries (see Chapter 13).

part iii

From the Viking Age to Angevin Hegemony, c. AD 900–1150

10 Transformations in architectures and settings

of public power, AD 900–1150

Fortifications and fortified rural residences to AD 950 Within late Merovingian and Carolingian Francia, there was already a hierarchy of places fortified by stone walls or earth and wooden ramparts. Many of these fortifications were those of the Late Roman Empire, built between the late third and the fifth centuries, such as the walled areas protecting parts of former Roman townscapes and the small forts of the former Rhine–Meuse frontier zone that formed nuclei for the development of central places like Maastricht, Namur and Huy. Between the sixth and ninth centuries most of these fortifications remained in use and were maintained. Other forms of fortified place were also elements of the rural landscape before the ninth century, in certain regions of the Carolingian empire. In West Francia, a series of hilltop forts of Late Roman origin appear to have been used periodically by communities settled permanently in their immediate vicinity, presumably at times of political unrest. For example, at Mont-Vireux (Ardenne), a late Roman castellum was constructed on the summit of a spur overlooking two settlements on opposite banks of the River Meuse, at Vireux-Molhain and Vireux-Wallerand (Lémant 1991a, 149–60). The latter was a settlement of ironworkers from the first to sixth centuries. A small community seems to have carried on using the fortified settlement, between the seventh and ninth centuries. The principal local population focus was probably situated at the base of the spur at VireuxMolhain. The main evidence for this settlement is provided by the church of Notre-Dame-Saint-Ermel, founded in AD 752 by Ada, the wife of Count Wibert of Aquitaine, then serving at the court of Pippin III. This pattern of the maintenance and periodic use of small fortifications, between the seventh and ninth centuries, seems to be repeated at the ‘Château des Fées’ at Bertrix (Ardenne). Three phases of activity occurred at the latter fortified site between the late third and twelfth centuries. The first was associated with a Late Roman fortified enclosure in wood and then stone, but this was followed by what is interpreted as episodic occupation on the basis of artefacts, from the sixth to seventh centuries, and then from the

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late ninth to mid tenth century, reflected by a silver denier coin of Charles the Simple (911–27) (Matthys 1991, 214). During the late eleventh to twelfth century a stone donjon-tower was built on the site. From the later ninth and early tenth centuries, however, new fortified settlements were created or fortified architectural elements were built at existing rural centres. These comprised structural modifications at Carolingian royal palace centres primarily (see Chapter 6), and emulation of these royal fortification architectures at major comital or episcopal centres (see Chapter 7). From the late ninth century, large ringforts were also constructed along the Channel–North Sea coast (Henderikx 1995, 95–101). The forts at places such as Veurne and Oostburg in Flanders, and Oost-Souburg in the Netherlands, have traditionally been viewed as vluchtburgen or ‘refuge forts’ constructed against Scandinavian attacks on the coastal plain by the Count of Flanders (De Meulemeester 1983, 203; Henderikx 1995, 94; Heidinga 1997, 24). It is likely that the Count of Flanders was acting on Carolingian inspiration, given his family ties to the Carolingians (Baldwin was married to a daughter of Charles the Bald) and the construction of the ringforts at Domburg, Rijnsburg and Oost-Souburg, within the East Frankish Carolingian kingdom (Lebecq 1995; Bazelmans, Dijkstra and De Koning 2004). At the most extensively excavated example at Oost-Souburg, any initial phase of temporary occupation was soon followed by permanent habitation from the early tenth century, indicated by a combination of structural evidence and material culture (Van Heeringen, Henderikx and Mars 1995, 232–4). The permanent roles of these ringforts within their coastal landscapes are unclear and they seem to have been used to gain greater control over societies of the coastal margins of the southern North Sea region, as much as for defence against Scandinavian attacks (Loveluck and Tys 2006; Loveluck 2012). By the eleventh century, however, the fort at Veurne had become a residence and estate centre of the Count of Flanders, with a motte and church within the earlier rampart (Figure 20) (De Meulemeester 1983, 203; Ervynck 1992, 153). Other similar fortifications have been identified in Brittany, again ring-works of earth and wooden ramparts that could have been used as bases for defensive or offensive action: for example, the ‘Camp de Péran’ at Plédran (Côtes d’Armor). It has also been suggested that the latter fort was occupied by Scandinavian raiders for a time, on the basis of an early tenth-century silver penny, minted at York, but its occurrence could simply reflect North Sea–Channel trading connections (Guigon 1997, 28–9; Quaghebeur 2002, 75). Like the defences at Saint-Denis, the construction of the coastal ringforts reflects a similar

Transformations in settings of public power, AD 900–1150

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Figure 20 Schematic plans of enclosed/fortified settlements in northern France and Belgium, between c. AD 850 and 950: (a) ‘Camp de Péran’ at Plédran, Côtes d’Armor; (b) Petegem, East Flanders; (c) Locronan, Finistère; (d) Veurne, West Flanders

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large-scale mobilisation of resources, in terms of people, skills and the provisioning of a workforce during construction. All can be viewed as actions reflecting the power of ‘public authority’ wielded at the level of kings and regional potentates, using formal governmental infrastructures. The same can be said of the various bridges, with fortifications of bridgeheads, constructed across major arterial river routes in northern France, following the initiative of Charles the Bald, noted in the capitulary of Pîtres in 864. The plans made at Pîtres, however, do not appear to have been followed quickly by actions. The fortified bridges protecting the royal palace and episcopal foci of Paris on the Île-de-la-Cité do not seem to have been finished by 885, at the time of the Scandinavian siege. They were complete enough, however, to prevent a successful assault, prior to the arrival of the East Frankish king and emperor, Charles the Fat, and his relieving force (Bradbury 1992, 43–6). The scale of the fortified bridges has been illustrated to a certain extent by preliminary excavations, geophysical and earthwork survey at Pont-de-l’Arche (Eure), inland from Rouen, sited at a point to prevent waterborne attack up the Rivers Seine, Eure and Andelle. The bridge itself was a major structural feat, spanning both the Seine and the Eure, and the sub-rectangular earthwork fort on the north bank encloses an area at least 150 m by 100 m, and is considerably larger than its late twelfth-century successor built by the Plantagenets (Dearden and Hill 1988, 63–9). In many respects, the defensive features of West Francia and the refurbishment of the Roman walls of diocesan towns between the 870s and the 890s were closely mirrored in southern and central England in the same period. This was manifested specifically in fortified settlements known as burhs, created by the Mercian kings during the mid ninth century, as at Hereford; and by the West Saxon kings throughout southern England during the late ninth and early tenth centuries. All were reflections of kingdom-wide authority. The former reflected the progressive fortification of episcopal, royal and monastic polyfocal settlements at Hereford, between the mid ninth and early tenth centuries (Boucher 2002, 8–9). The slightly later West Saxon burhs were created in a variety of ways. Some, like Winchester, again housed key existing royal, episcopal and monastic foci, within the refurbished defences of the Roman walled town (Biddle 1976, 108 and 130). Others, like London, resulted from relocation of agricultural, trading and craft-working settlements, and perhaps a royal estate centre at Whitehall, into the area within the refurbished Roman walls of Londinium, to join the ecclesiastical focus at St Pauls (Vince 1990; Malcolm, Bowsher and Cowie 2003; Cowie and Blackmore 2008). The site of the burh at

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Oxford was primarily due to its importance as an existing crossing of the Thames, by way of a wooden bridge (Dodd 2003, 13–19). The siting of burh fortified settlements at existing bridges and fords probably reflects strategic decisions to protect key communications infrastructure, which due to the scale of resources and skills needed to build them were probably constructed by royal gift or through royal governmental authority. The eighth- to ninth-century bridge at Oxford was an undertaking comparable to the spanning of the Seine and Eure at Pontde-l’Arche, and was probably constructed under Mercian royal authority. In many respects the dual fortified bridgeheads at Pont-de-l’Arche are reminiscent of the bridge constructed in London at the end of the tenth century, with Lundenburh on the north bank of the Thames and a smaller fortified bridgehead or secondary burh that became Southwark, on the south bank (Milne 2003, 53–6). Sponsoring the construction of key communications infrastructure, especially bridges, and their gift to towns or the wider populace remained a key marker of ruling power and display in western Europe into the eleventh and twelfth centuries. Bridges constructed by the kings of León–Castile and Aragon–Navarre on the pilgrimage routes over the Pyrenees and through northern Spain to Santiago de Compostela provide good examples of this practice (Barton 2004, 53). The fortification of parts of major estate centres of counts and bishops, like Petegem (East Flanders) with its ‘figure-of-eight’ ditches and earthen rampart (Figure 20), and Soest (Westphalia) with its dry-stone-faced rectangular rampart cannot be viewed as expressions of power akin to the coastal ringforts of West Francia or the burhs of southern and central England. The ring-works at Petegem encircled only the high-status foci and the rampart at Soest only the key episcopal churches and the bishop’s residence (Callebaut 1994, 95–7; Melzer 1999, 366–8). The defensive value for all the inhabitants of the Petegem and Soest settlements was probably secondary to the demonstration of social differentiation, in terms of who and what was worth defending. Both the new rampart developments at Petegem and Soest seem to have been undertaken at the end of the ninth or early tenth century. Some nuclei of probable estate centres were also housed partially or completely within earthen ramparts in the Rhineland, as at Husterknupp and Elten (Herrnbrodt 1958; Binding, Janssen and Jungklaas 1970; Friedrich 1998). A series of earth and timber ring-work fortifications was also constructed on the North Sea coast, east of the Rhine, between the ninth and mid tenth centuries. The large ninth-century episcopal ringfort of the Hammaburg became the focus for the development of Hamburg (Busch 1995). Smaller ringforts,

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possibly housing aristocratic families, were also built along the coastal sand belt of Schleswig-Holstein at Stellerburg, Bökelnburg and Kuden, overlooking the inhabited marshes (Meier 1997, 243–56, 2000, 83–9; Arnold 2000, 64–7). Consequently, between the late ninth and tenth centuries, the provision of a defensible enclosure at major estate centres in West Francia and around the Continental North Sea coast can be regarded as much as a marker of settlement status and rank as of defensive strength. The defence of an estate centre core by a substantial earthwork and timber rampart, during the ninth century, has only been suggested previously for the settlement at Goltho (Lincolnshire) in England, where a ringwork rampart encircled the principal residential core amidst a larger settlement agglomeration. The ring-work defence replaced earlier posthole buildings aligned along trackways. The construction of the ring-work was dated to c. 850 in the publication of the Goltho remains (Beresford 1987). However, more detailed knowledge and redating of Anglo-Saxon pottery wares in the East Midlands of England since then has shown that the buildings and trackways underlying the ring-work were associated with pottery wares that date to the second half of the ninth century, which is likely to place the construction of the defensive ring-work around the estate centre core during the first half of the tenth century, rather than the ninth (Vince and Young 2009, 392–401). Unlike any of the above fortified sites or fortified elements of settlements, however, the small enclosed strong-points or ‘embryonic castles’ like those excavated at Montfélix–Chavot (Marne), Tchesté de la Rochte– Sugny (Ardenne) and Buzenol (Belgian Lorraine) cannot be interpreted as either large estate centres or sheltering fortifications for surrounding populations. At Buzenol, a small fortified settlement was created within a larger Iron Age hillfort during the ninth century, and eventually became focussed on a small stone donjon and two baileys, prior to its abandonment during the mid eleventh century, after being destroyed by fire. It is thought to have been constructed as a comital initiative (Mignot, Dehon and Henrotay, 2004, 229–30). The former Late Roman and Merovingian site at Montfélix was refurbished sometime between the end of the ninth and mid tenth centuries (Renoux 2004, 262). It is situated on a large spur–promontory overlooking Épernay, which was then an estate centre of the archbishops of Rheims, and the fortification was linked to the Counts of Omois-Vermandois, later the Counts of Champagne, by 952 (Bur 1977, 108; Renoux 2004, 261). Sugny was located in the Ardenne forest on a rock outcrop, near Bouillon, overlooking the Roman road

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from Rheims to Cologne. On the basis of pottery dating, it was founded sometime between 750 and 850, and was enclosed by an earthen and wooden rampart with a double palisade (Matthys 1991, 213–14; Ervynck 1992, 153–9). During the late ninth century and for much of the tenth, however, all of these small fortified settlements were defended primarily by virtue of their natural location on rocky promontories. The same can be said of a multitude of such small defended strong-points in rocky hilltop locations, documented from the later ninth century, in Aquitaine and the regions bordering the Pyrenees and the Mediterranean coast (Constant 1997, 453–5). The internal buildings at Sugny are unknown from this period and those from Montfélix consisted of a group of modest buildings with posthole and sunken foundations, situated on the rocky spur and defended by a ditch on one side (Renoux 1997, 124). Nevertheless, the artefact assemblage from tenth- to mid-eleventh-century Montfélix does show that the occupants had a military role and perhaps an above-average social status, reflected by weapons (the head of a crossbow bolt and a spear), riding gear (a spur) and evidence of leisure activities (a chess piece) (Renoux 2004, 262). These trappings combined with the modest buildings, however, are best interpreted as those of warrior–retainers of the counts – local notables rather than aristocrats. Both the fortifications at Sugny and Montfélix were considerably enlarged between the late tenth and late eleventh centuries to become fully developed castles. These small, seemingly permanently occupied, fortified settlements were features of the landscape of West Francia well before the later tenth and eleventh centuries. They were elements within the wider settlement infrastructures of the estates of regional rulers, and were probably not centres of significant territories of themselves, nor do they seem to have possessed attendant settlements. Similar fortified sites, founded between the mid ninth and early tenth centuries and belonging to regional rulers, have not been found in England south of the River Tyne. The small burghal forts of later tenth- and early eleventh-century England, such as South Cadbury (Somerset), Old Sarum (Wiltshire) and Cissbury (Sussex), and small beacon fortifications, such as that on Silbury Hill (Wiltshire), were reflections of state power, not of smaller-scale regional lordship (Lavelle 2002, 114–16; Pollard and Reynolds 2002, 226–7). And small, tenth-century enclosed settlements, such as Thwing (East Yorkshire), with a wooden tower, were not located in defensible locations, and were markers of local lordly (thegnal) status at small estate centres (Manby forthcoming).

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New symbols of governmental power in West Francia, AD 950–1100 During the course of the tenth and eleventh centuries, the defended nuclei of palace and estate centres, the large ringforts and the small defended sites all underwent transformations along the same trajectories to become castle centres in West Francia, as did some in later eleventh- and early twelfthcentury England, after the Norman Conquest. The social status of the actors driving those transformations varied, however, from the established royal, comital and local aristocratic powers to new aspiring families of local notables, seeking to establish landed patrimonies. Central to this development in West Francia, and later in the British isles, was the development of the stone or wooden tower (donjon), sometimes located upon a raised earthen mound (motte) and often associated with ramparts of stone or earth and wood, forming single or multiple bailey or basse-cour ring-works or courtyards. Castles, and especially standing donjons of the eleventh and twelfth centuries, have been the focus of a huge amount of research throughout Europe by historians, architectural historians and archaeologists. In the last two decades, trends in interpretation have moved away from the apparently military and defensive role of castles to stress their role as symbols and theatres of power and lordship, initially of public government at the levels of regional and royal power, and then, through emulation, of more local power and lordship (Dixon 1990, 2002b; Coulson 1996; Marshall 2002a, 2006; Hicks 2009). More recently still, attention has also focussed on the landscape settings of castles, demonstrating that even in the eleventh and twelfth centuries some formed part of specifically designed landscapes, where visual and symbolic effect was at least as important as defensive location and function (Liddiard 2000, 2005; Creighton and Liddiard 2008; Creighton 2009). At the same time, however, castles and fortified towns certainly did get besieged and see military action regularly in this period, witnessed in textual sources and by the known ‘siege castles’ of eleventh- and twelfthcentury France and England, providing a cautionary note to symbolic interpretation alone (Le Maho 2000; Speight 2000; Platt 2007). This is not to say that castles and principal buildings, such as donjons, together with their designed landscape settings, were not symbolic of ruling power, whether kingly or more local. After taking Rouen in 1204, Philippe Auguste of France took great pains to destroy the donjon of William the Conqueror, the key symbol of ducal and Angevin royal authority in Normandy, prior to replacing it with a symbol of Capetian power – one

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of his typical round donjons, copying that of the Louvre (Bates 1993, 8). At the level of more local competition, Bertram II de Verdun, Sheriff of Warwickshire and Leicestershire between 1170 and 1185, apparently took great satisfaction in demolishing Leicester Castle in 1175–6 on behalf of the king. It was the symbolic seat of power of Bertram’s local rival, the Earl of Leicester, who had rebelled against Henry II of England, in 1173–4 (Hagger 2001, 40–1). The symbols marked status, identity and sometimes deliberate affiliation with governmental authorities of the past, notably Roman imperium (see below), but ultimately the symbols were only as good as the de facto governmental power associated with them, normally an indivisible entanglement of socio-political, economic and military authority. The development of castles and their key architectural features is not a simple linear evolution. Stone halls at palace sites were converted into large donjon hall–towers across West Francia, between the mid tenth and early eleventh centuries. By the 990s, there were documented towers at Château Thierry (Aisne), Laon (Aisne), Coucy (Aisne), Châlons-surMarne (Marne), Rheims (Marne), Amiens (Somme), Sens (Yonne), Nantes (Loire Atlantique), Blois (Loire-et-Cher), Chinon (Vienne) and Rouen (Seine-Maritime) among others (see Map 2) (Impey 2002, 197). In some of the earliest known examples, the creation of towers was achieved by constructing an additional stone storey onto existing stone halls, and the lower levels were then encased within a mound or motte in a number of instances. This happened at a former royal palace of Pippin III, at Mellier (Ardenne) in Belgium, and at Doué-la-Fontaine (Maine-et-Loire) in France (Figure 21) (De Boüard 1974; Matthys 1991; De Meulemeester, Matthys and Poisson 1997, 143–4). At the latter site, the converted stone hall, built around 900, probably belonged to the Counts of Blois (Renoux 1999, 130). The recent excavations by Robert Early of a tenth-century stone hall with a tower at Mayenne (Mayenne) show the same phenomenon. The hall focus with an adjoining tower, originally built by the Counts of Maine in the early tenth century, was transformed into a fortified strong-point, with the addition of a stone enclosure wall. It was buried and encased in further stone castle defences during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries (Early 2001, 276–83; Renoux 2001, 252–8). A similar sequence of ‘enmottification’ of a tenth-century wooden hall can be seen at Douai (Nord). The hall was enclosed within a mortared stone rampart, probably built by the penultimate Carolingian king of West Francia, Lothar (954–86). Subsequently, the hall was encased within an earth mound and some of its beams were used to support a small tower, probably in the last decades of the tenth century (Demolon and Louis 1994, 55). The stone residential buildings of the Late

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Figure 21 The stone hall (aula) of the Counts of Blois at Doué-la-Fontaine, Maine-et-Loire, built in c. AD 900, and converted into a multi-storeyed donjon during the late tenth to early eleventh century, with the old hall encased in the earthern motte

Carolingian vicarial centre at Olby (Puy-de-Dôme) were similarly buried by a superimposed motte during the eleventh century (Gaimé et al. 1999, 82–91). Thus many Carolingian and comital ‘theatres’ for conspicuous consumption, public ritual and government were transformed into fortified centres, often described as castra or castella, focussed on a tower as the new expression of public power and high aristocratic rank (Duby 1991, 59–61). Not all palace halls were converted into donjons around AD 1000, however. At Fécamp (Seine-Maritime), the palace of the Dukes of Normandy was surrounded by an oval fortified enclosure and divided internally into a palace zone and a separate monastic focus. During the later tenth century, the main residential building of the palace was rectangular and divided into two parts: a large hall for dining, and a small kitchen to its north (Renoux 2010, 248–50). At Bruges too, the fortified residence of the Counts of Flanders never gained a donjon as a symbol of comital power, unlike the count’s castrum at Ghent (De Witte 1991;

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Callebaut 1994). The fortified residence at Bruges was enclosed by a rectangular rampart of earth, surmounted by an oak palisade, and surrounded by a ditch (De Witte 1991). It was constructed at the end of the ninth or early tenth century. Its form is very reminiscent of the rectangular rampart constructed around the main episcopal churches and palace of the Bishops of Cologne, at Soest, also built around 900 (Melzer 1999). Furthermore, also like Soest, the fortified residence at Bruges was not the only significant settlement element in the immediate vicinity. Silver coinage was already being minted at Bruges in the reign of Charles the Bald, from the late 860s, suggesting that it was already a significant administrative settlement before the construction of the fortified focus (Ryckaert 1999, 19). Comital prestige was signalled within the enclosed residence by the mortared stone rotunda church, with Westwerk, dedicated to St Donatus. It was built in the middle decades of the tenth century and reflects the established power of the Counts of Flanders and their family links to the later Carolingian kings of West Francia (De Witte 1988, 30–1). The rotunda of St Donatus is a key monumental marker of the self-perception of the counts as the legitimate successors to Carolingian imperial power within their own comital principality, in its deliberate emulation of the imperial rotunda churches of Charlemagne at Aachen and Charles the Bald at Compiègne. As at Fécamp and Bruges, recent excavations and publications are also emphasising the sporadic adoption of the donjon as a symbol of public lordship, in both northern and southern France. In many instances, donjons were not constructed until the twelfth century at comital castra. At Boves (Somme), near Amiens, a complex four-phase occupation sequence has revealed an evolution from unenclosed estate centre to donjon, between the early tenth and mid twelfth centuries (Racinet 2010, 257). The estate centre-cum-castrum and associated settlements at Boves were situated on a promontory, c. 550 m by 250 m in size, overlooking the River Avre, not far from its confluence with the River Somme (see Map 2). The castrum occupied the east of the spur, with a parish church and later also a Cluniac priory in a central bailey, and an existing early medieval settlement and cemetery at the western extremity of the promontory (Racinet 2010, 257–8). The estate centre may have been a possession of the Bishops of Amiens in the early tenth century, and possibly the Counts of Vermandois by the middle of that century. It was certainly in the hands of the Count of Amiens and Crépy at the beginning of the eleventh century and was held by one of his vassals as lords of Boves, until those lords acceded to comital status themselves in the early twelfth century,

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alternating their allegiance between the county of Flanders and the kingdom of France (Racinet 2010, 268). The stone donjon was not constructed, however, until the mid twelfth century, when the lords of Boves were defending their recently won comital status. Previously, when the castrum was held by members of the higher aristocracy, possibly bishops, and certainly counts, a donjon was not necessary as a symbol of public power. At least two large post-hole buildings, with cellars, over 20 m in length and approximately 7 m in width, were built in the early tenth century, without any sign of them being protected by a palisade. Residual ninth-century disc brooches and other finds also hint at the likelihood of an earlier elite settlement in the immediate area too (Racinet 2006, 133). These buildings were replaced on the same plots by successors, also with post-hole foundations, in the mid tenth century, but they were enclosed within an earth and wooden rampart by this period. They, in turn, were replaced by buildings with stone foundations in the early eleventh century but the rampart was not replaced in stone until the mid twelfth century, contemporary with the construction of the donjon (Racinet 2010, 260–6). Further south in France, the castrum of the Counts of Angoulême at Andone (Charente), located approximately 20 kilometres north of Angoulême in the commune of Villejoubert (see Map 3), was sited on top of an oval spur–promontory (Bourgeois 2009, 5).The excavations undertaken by André Debord, between 1971 and 1995 showed that the castrum comprised a roughly oval curtain-wall of mortared masonry on top of and partially encased by an earthen ring-work glacis, enclosing an area of over 1000 square metres. It was enclosed by a ditch and had two gates, in its east and west walls respectively (Bourgeois 2009, 32–3 and 442–7). Following the construction of a single wooden building, founded on a dry-stone sill within the centre of the enclosure, two ranges of mortared stone buildings were erected with ‘petit appareil’ and ‘herringbone’ masonry types, backing on to the north and south walls of the stone rampart (Bourgeois 2009, 440–1). Their entrances faced inwards, opening into courtyard spaces within the enclosure. The north range consisted of a large hall, 19.68 m by between 10.35 and 11.90 m in size, reconstructed as having two storeys and one or two internal hearths. Two smaller residential buildings adjoining it could be interpreted as chamber buildings (Bourgeois 2009, 61–5). The south range of smaller rooms was probably used for habitation and storage. From a combination of relative stratigraphy, artefacts, radiocarbon dates and textual sources, the construction of the castrum is dated to c. 970 to 980, and it was abandoned sometime in the third decade of the eleventh century (Bourgeois 2009, 420). This short occupation sequence and the profligate

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discard of artefacts and food refuse on this site, together with its exemplary publication, make Andone key to understanding the social practices of daily life among the high aristocracy of West Francia during the period of the devolution of ruling power from the Carolingians on to the comital aristocracies (see below). It is important to stress, however, that the examples of the ducal and comital residences at Fécamp, Bruges, Boves and Andone demonstrate the need for caution before attributing too much significance to the adoption of the donjon as a symbol of public governmental power at the end of the tenth and early eleventh centuries. Its rise as an almost universally necessary symbol of authority at kingly, comital and local levels would take another century (Impey and Lorans 1998, 75). Nevertheless, despite their lack of universal adoption, the last decades of the tenth century and the first decades of the eleventh saw the construction of an increasing number of purpose-built stone donjons that can be described as ‘hall–towers’ or ‘palace–donjons’ (Marshall 2002b, 28), across northern France and into Belgium. Their distribution extended across the Counties of Anjou, Blois–Champagne, the Duchy of Normandy and to a lesser extent the County of Flanders, the Capetian royal domain and the Ottonian County of Lorraine (Lotharingia). All these monumental architectural projects were conducted by members of the highest aristocracy, at the level of the regional rulers of post-Carolingian West Francia. As such, these palace–donjons were designed to help consolidate and legitimise the de facto power of counts and dukes, many of whom rarely, if ever, recognised that they held their lands as vassals of the kings of France. Of those constructed around c. 1000, it is difficult to say which donjons formed the models on which others were based. In the County of Anjou and in lands newly won from the Counts of Blois-Champagne, Count Fulk Nerra probably constructed the donjons at Langeais (Figure 22) and Montbazon, and then Loches (all Indre-et-Loire), between c. 1000 and the late 1030s (Dormoy 1998; Impey and Lorans 1998, 70–2). He lost and regained the castles at Langeais and Montbazon by siege more than once to the Counts of Blois-Champagne during these decades, however, so his commissioning of the donjons cannot be proven beyond doubt (Bachrach 1993; Impey and Lorans 1998, 71–2). His son, Count Geoffrey Martel, was probably responsible for the building of the palace–donjon and linked hall at Tours (Galinié et al. 2007, 78–9). In Normandy, the three known large stone donjons, at Rouen (SeineMaritime), Ivry-la-Bataille (Eure) and Avranches (Manche), were built by members of the ducal family between 990 and 1040 (Impey 2002, 197–8). The large donjon at Ivry, 25 m by 32 m in size, is very close to the dimensions of the White Tower, the donjon of William the Conqueror at

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Figure 22 The donjon at Langeais, Indre-et-Loire, built by Count Fulk Nerra of Anjou, between c. AD 1000 and 1030

the Tower of London, and as such is a fully fledged example of and possible model (like the destroyed donjon at Rouen) for the ‘Great Tower’ donjons of Anglo-Norman England, dating from the end of the eleventh to mid twelfth centuries (Impey 2002, 198). Comital and viscomital authority was also probably responsible for the construction of three purpose-built donjons in the County of Maine at Sainte-Suzanne (Mayenne), Beaumont-sur-Sarthe and Fresnay-sur-Sarthe (Sarthe). The donjon at Sainte-Suzanne has close similarities with the donjon at Loches and is dated to the last third of the eleventh century, and attributed to the Hugonid Viscount Hubert (Renoux 2003, 39–42). The donjon at Beaumont is dated to between the end of the eleventh and early twelfth centuries and could have been built under Helias of La Flêche, Count of Maine (1090–1110); and the early fabric at Fresnay is dated to sometime during the eleventh century. All were documented comital residences and castra before the construction of the donjon buildings: Fresnay from 997, Sainte-Suzanne from at least the 1050s, and Beaumont is known

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from c. 1060 (Renoux 2003, 39–42). The power of the Counts of Maine declined between 1050 and 1090, however, and resulted in the creation of largely independent castellanies, often based around former comital centres, including Beaumont and Sainte-Suzanne (Barton 2004, 210). All three of these donjons were located within castles situated on rocky promontories, as were the donjons at Langeais and Ivry. Yet these donjons cannot be viewed as having provided extra defensive capability to these castles. They were primarily residences, theatres for comital ceremony, and symbols of power (Marshall 2006). However, the castles in which they were sited had an undoubted practical military role too but their defensibility was provided by their locations and their enclosing earth, wood and stone ramparts, together with additional wooden towers on earthen mottes. These mottes were located in the western bailey at Langeais, and 150 m away from the donjon at Beaumont, on the opposite side of the defended bourg settlement respectively (Impey and Lorans 1998, 92–3; Renoux 2003, 42). Sainte-Suzanne and Beaumont were both besieged in their early histories. Sainte-Suzanne resisted William the Conqueror successfully in a three-year siege between 1083 and 1086; and Beaumont was also besieged several times between the 1070s and 1135, when it was taken and burnt by Geoffrey Plantagenet, the Count of Anjou. Indeed, the motte at Beaumont may have been a siege castle (Renoux 2003, 42). In the County of Flanders and parts of Ottonian Lorraine, in modern Belgium, palace–donjons were very small in number but they were built by the Count of Flanders at his estate centre in Ghent (East Flanders), and by Godfried or Herman, successive Counts of Verdun, at their comital palace at Ename (East Flanders), then under Ottonian overlordship (Callebaut 1994, 2010, 226–32). The ‘Castle of the Counts’, in Ghent, is situated within a meander of the River Leie. Excavations by Dirk Callebaut showed that the site of the later castle began as a comtial residence during the first half of the tenth century, comprising a wooden building, occupying the same building ‘footprint’ as the later donjon, with ancillary buildings around it (Callebaut 1994; Laleman 2004, 181). The earliest fabric of the stone donjon is of herringbone type, and it seems to have been built sometime during the eleventh century (Callebaut 1994; Laleman 2004, 182). As such, its construction represents the adoption of a symbolic means of marking high aristocratic lordship a century or more later than the creation of the burg in Bruges, where the Count’s lordship and claim to legitimate authority was marked by the construction of the rotunda church of St Donatus, rather than by the burg fortification itself. The construction of the donjon in Ghent was also a deliberate affiliation with

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the symbols of regional lordship in the West Francia of the eleventh century. It is probably best understood as a statement of power independent from the nearby Ottonian Empire, and a symbol of control over an increasingly wealthy and independent group of urban merchant–patricians that would increasingly challenge the authority of the Counts of Flanders within the 80-hectare townscape of Ghent, by the twelfth century. This is reflected materially by the large number of Romanesque stone town-houses, some with their own towers (Laleman and Raveschot 1994). The construction of the donjon at Ename must again be seen within the context of the border region between West Francia and the Ottonian realm, and also in the light of a comital family that held lands and allegiances in both the latter geographical areas. The donjon also has to be understood within its polyfocal settlement setting, as part of a scheme of dual symbolism. The donjon was built as one element of a castrum, surrounded by a meander of the River Scheldt, with a moat protecting the landward side. There was also a separate hall, with a chapel at its eastern end, dedicated to Our Lady; and a wooden building lay in between the donjon and hall (Callebaut 2010, 238). The whole palace and donjon complex was built between 997 and 1025. Beyond it, also protected by the Scheldt, was a portus trading settlement, which contained two churches: that of St Salvator in the northwest, and that of St Lawrence in the southeast. The latter church is especially significant, as it is built in the Ottonian imperial Romanesque style, and included an early eleventh-century fresco inspired by the Byzantine ‘Christ-in-majesty’ (Maiestas Domini) image, typical of Byzantine-influenced Ottonian imperial fashion, seen to great effect in contemporary ivories (Fillitz 2001, 334–9; Callebaut 2010, 239). This imperial church was built by Herman and speaks of Ottonian overlordship and alliance. Indeed, Callebaut also sees the mid tenth-century Ottonian nave of the church of St Martin at Velzeke (East Flanders) as a similar statement of imperial affiliation (Callebaut 2010, 233–8). Yet the donjon is typical of northwest Frankish fashion, and can be viewed as a reflection of the dual outlook of the Lotharingian comital aristocracy. In terms of architectural style, the palace–donjon residences of eleventhcentury northwest Francia all took their inspiration from Roman, Carolingian and Ottonian imperial architecture. They are usually grouped under the ‘Romanesque’ architectural style, although Impey and others have pointed out that the donjons constructed prior to the 1050s, with petit appareil masonry and use of brick and tile window features, should be regarded as ‘Pre’-classic Romanesque, with its use of ashlar masonry (Impey and Lorans 1998, 70). Both the ‘Pre-Roman’ and developed

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Romanesque donjons were aping the precedent of Roman monumental buildings, however (O’Keeffe 2007). It is revealing to note who did and who did not erect these display-buildings. The majority were built by the regional authorities, whether counts or dukes, on whom ruling power had been devolved during the course of the tenth century, under the last of the Carolingian kings of West Francia: notably by the Counts of Anjou, the Dukes of Normandy, the Counts of Vermandois and Blois–Champagne, the Counts of Maine, and the Counts of Flanders (Impey 2008a, 233). All these regional rulers sought to legitimise their power within their own dominions, during the later tenth and eleventh centuries. This was especially the case after the last heirs of Charlemagne had been replaced by the Capetians in the royal realm, focussed between the Île-de-France, Picardy and the central Loire valley. In Anjou and Normandy, the construction of the donjons in the Romanesque style has been seen as part of a strategy to portray the governing authority of the counts and dukes as a direct inheritance from the Carolingians, and hence the western Roman emperors, without reference to or need for the Capetian kings of France. In addition to building monumental donjons, Count Fulk Nerra of Anjou also deliberately cultivated other aspects of Roman and Byzantine ceremonial spectacle, such as the adventus (arrival) at his key centres (Bachrach 1993, 47 and 257). Hence, both his use of monumental buildings and passage through his own landscapes were carefully choreographed events designed to emphasise his power and legitimacy from Roman precedent. There was precious little perception of a ‘pyramid’ of authority from the Kings of France to the regional rulers that modern writers have previously described as ‘feudal’, until the military power of the French Kings was greatly strengthened under Louis VI (Duby 1991, 137–40). Within the French royal domain, Romanesque palace–donjons were seldom constructed during the eleventh century, despite their equal if not greater legitimacy claimed from Carolingian and western Roman imperial authority, compared to their rivals in West Francia. Within the Capetian royal domain, there were very few eleventh-century donjons, those at Beaumont-sur-Oise (Val-d’Oise) and Beaugency (Loiret) being two notable examples. The latter donjon was built in an enclave of the royal domain, surrounded by the County of Blois, and was built by the royal vassal Lancelin I, between 1020 and 1040, on the basis of dendrochronological dates (Mataouchek 2004, 103). It is viewed, like the other donjons of the Loire valley, as a symbol of power rather than of military strength (Mataouchek 2004, 106). The rare choice of the donjon as a royal symbol of power is best explained by the dynamics of regional lordship. Lancelin

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chose to use the paramount symbol prevalent in the middle Loire valley, surrounded as he was by Blésois lands, with their own donjons. Other towers and fortifications existed already in the royal domain by c. 950, however, built by the late Carolingian rulers of West Francia at key centres of royal power, most of them in towns, for example, at Paris, Orléans, Compiègne, Rheims and Douai (Bradbury 1992; Demolon and Louis 1994; Impey 2002; Josset and Mazuy 2004). The rarity of new Romanesque donjons can be explained by the fact that the Capetians already possessed the symbols of power of their late Carolingian predecessors: their palacescum-castra with their fortified towers and most of the key Carolingian monasteries, saints’ relics and Carolingian mausolea (Duby 1991, 134). Examples are Compiègne, with its palace and imperial rotunda church of Charles the Bald; Paris, with its fortified palace on the Île-de-la-Cité; the monastery–palace and Carolingian mausoleum at Saint-Denis, with the graves of Charles Martel, Pippin III and Charles the Bald; and the monastery of Fleury at Saint-Benoît-sur-Loire (Loiret), with its shrine and relics of St Benedict, among others. The legitimising strategy of the Capetians was primarily to associate themselves with the symbols of their West Frankish Carolingian predecessors. So, we find Hugh Capet (d. 996) and Robert the Pious (d. 1031) buried at Saint-Denis (Wyss 1997, 111). Later, the Gothic-style abbey church, built under the abbacy of Suger and consecrated in 1144, would become the paramount mausoleum of the Capetian and Valois kings of France (Wyss 1996). Prior to this, however, other abbeys, such as Fleury, were also royal resting places: Philip I died in 1108, and was buried in the church of Notre-Dame at Fleury, between the altar and the choir, in a limestone coffin. His face had been covered by a silk shawl, and his body wrapped in a red cloak of fine wool, and covered in irises, and sprays of mint and walnut (Georges 2004, 41). Renewed use of materials symbolic of Carolingian, Byzantine and Roman imperium also occurred in the royal domain during the early decades of Capetian rule. Abbot Gauzlin rebuilt the royal abbey church at Fleury in the Romanesque style, after a fire in 1026. He included a new opus sectile floor around the shrine of St Benedict, made of imported antique marbles and porphyry, and built by artisans from Byzantium or possibly Rome (Jesset and Étienne 2004, 175–8; Vergnolle 2004, 156 and 172). The possession of key Carolingian centres and their Roman-inspired buildings, and patronage of institutions such as Fleury with their use of Roman materials, reflected a desire to be perceived as legitimate successors to the imperial authority of the Carolingians in West Francia, alongside the real imperial powers of western Europe, between the

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mid tenth and early eleventh centuries, namely the Ottonian emperors of the former Eastern Frankish realm and the caliphs of Al-Andalus. The Ottonians possessed the key Carolingian imperial centre of Aachen and pursued new building programmes further east, notably at Magdeburg, using porphyry and marble columns in the cathedral and its associated palace, in addition to marriage alliance with the Byzantine imperial family and adoption of Byzantine imagery, seen on ivory diptychs and Ottonian royal churches, at Gernrode, Ingelheim and others (Fillitz 2001; Ludowici 2001; Kaiser 2004). The powerful mid to late tenth-century caliphs Abd-alRahman III and Al-Hakkam II used columns of marble, porphyry and their own development of the Corinthian capital (the honeycomb type) to adorn their building programmes at the Great Mosque in Córdoba and at the nearby palace–city of Medina–Azahara. The imperial identity of the caliphs was also recognised by the Byzantine emperor Nicephorus Phocas in the 960s, by his gift to Al-Hakkam II of 15 tonnes of glass and gold tesserae and marble for the new mihrab at the Great Mosque, along with the services of a Byzantine master-builder (Gómez Moreno 1951). Like the Capetians, the most powerful rulers in southern France also chose not to build donjons as symbols of their power during the eleventh century. The area of southern France comprising Aquitaine had been a sub-kingdom within the Carolingian empire but from the early tenth century its rule was devolved on to the Counts of Poitou, who became Dukes of Aquitaine. They rarely recognised any Capetian overlordship and by the late tenth century they liked to be given kingly and imperial Roman titles, especially during the reign of Duke William V ‘the Great’, a contemporary of Fulk Nerra. His biographer, Adémar of Chabannes, compared him to the imperatores Charlemagne, Louis the Pious and Augustus Caesar (Duby 1991, 28). William exercised kingly power from his favourite palace at Poitiers. He and his immediate predecessors also successfully persuaded some southern French counts to switch their notional obligation to provide military support for the kings of France to the Dukes of Aquitaine. Some counts, however, including those of Aurillac, Angoulême and Auvergne, remained independent. As in northern Francia, comital castles with stone ramparts and interior buildings certainly existed as settlements in the landscapes of southern France, especially from the mid tenth century, like the previously discussed castrum at Andone and the stone ring-work castle at Menet-Puy-de-Menoire (Cantal) (Fournier and Lapeyre 2001). Former Carolingian vicarial estate centres, governing subdivisions of pagi within counties, were also transformed into castles by their high aristocratic owners, as at the aforementioned centre at Olby. Exceptionally, in

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comparison with other regions of West Francia, middling local notables owning their own lands were also building towers at estate centres during the mid tenth century (Schneider 2010, 151–4). For example, the estate centre at Teulet (Hérault), in the county of Béziers, possessed a small rectangular masonry tower, 11 m by 6 m in size, surrounded by inner and outer circular ditches. It was built sometime between 930 and 960 and was abandoned by c. 1030 (Schneider 1997, 417–22). Given the greater social diversity of castle- and tower-builders in southern France, it is surprising that the comital donjon was not adopted more widely. Yet alternative strategies of public lordship were followed instead, such as the creation and patronage of the abbey of Cluny (Saône-et-Loire) and its Benedictinederived religious reform movement, during the mid to late tenth century. In this sense, the Dukes of Aquitaine were modelling themselves on the great Carolingians who had sponsored the earlier Benedictine reforms of the ninth century. Mirroring the actions of Gauzlin of Fleury, Abbot Odilo of Cluny also imitated Roman precedent in the early decades of the eleventh century by replacing a wooden cloister with a stone successor, using imported marble columns (McNeill 2006, 1). So, too, did his biographer liken him to Caesar Augustus for his rebuilding programme, just as Adémar likened William V ‘the Great’ to the same Roman emperor. The rebuilding of the monasteries at Cluny and Fleury in the Romanesque style, between the mid and late eleventh century, with embellishments in the following century, was part of a trend that spanned the entirety of West Francia, with regional traditions developing in southern and northern France and in the Rhineland (O’Keeffe 2007). In many cases, the reconstruction of monasteries and the foundation of new priories and convents was an act of direct patronage by the ruling aristocracies of the day, and the use of the Romanesque style reflected both the spiritual architecture of the age and the harking back to Roman precedent on the part of secular rulers and leading clerics. In West Francia, and later in England after the Norman Conquest, secular aristocratic patrons were especially active in the endowment of resources to monasteries and priories for their architectural programmes. This probably reflects the relative independence of the latter institutions from episcopal control, and their ability to support secular rulers directly. For example, Fulk Nerra and his wife, Hildegarde, financed the building of the Benedictine monastery at Beaulieu-les-Loches and the convent at Ronceray in the first three decades of the eleventh century (Le Long 1977, 165–7; Thurlby 2003, 70); and William the Conqueror and his wife, Matilda, financed the building of the Romanesque churches at the monasteries at Jumièges (Seine-Maritime),

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Saint Étienne and La Trinité, Caen, in Normandy (Gazeau 2006, 94) and St Martin, Marmoutier (Indre-et-Loire), between the 1050s and the 1080s (Le Long 1977, 101–2). Patronage of monasteries beyond the boundaries of their principalities was a strategy adopted by a range of secular rulers to ensure external spiritual and political support, as seen in the case of William and Matilda supporting Marmoutier. The Kings of León–Castile and Navarre gave huge annual gifts of gold to Cluny (Saône-et-Loire), derived from tribute payments from the Muslim taifa kingdoms (the fragmented successors of the Caliphate), which largely funded the construction of the monumental Romanesque abbey (Cluny III), between the 1080s and early 1100s (Bull 2002, 151; Barton 2004, 47). Similarly, the Counts of Barcelona and Toulouse patronised the abbey of St Foy at Conques (Aveyron), again with gold and silver largely derived from Muslim Spain, from the 990s onwards, reflected monumentally in the Romanesque abbey by the 1050s (Bonnassie 2004, 19–20). Direct patronage of the rebuilding of cathedrals in the Romanesque style by secular rulers was rarer but notable exceptions provide especial political symbols, for example, the ducal sponsorship of the rebuilding of Rouen Cathedral in the later tenth and early eleventh centuries under Duke Richard I and then Archbishop Robert. The latter cathedral was designed as a mausoleum for the Dukes of Normandy, akin to Saint-Denis for the Kings of France, even though later dukes, including Richard I, were buried in favoured monastic foundations, at Fécamp and Caen (Le Maho and Niel 2004, 99–100; Gazeau 2006, 93). The Salian German emperors were to do exactly the same in their sponsorship of the Romanesque cathedral at Speyer, in the middle Rhineland, from the late 1020s to 1100, which also acted as a mausoleum for the Salian dynasty (von Winterfeld 2007, 14–22). In other cases, as with the Angevin financing of the rebuilding of Le Mans Cathedral, the motive was a demonstration of Angevin possession of the County of Maine, achieved through marriage in 1109 (Grant 2003, 100).

Architectures of imperium and lordship in Norman and early Plantagenet Britain and France, AD c. 1050–1180 On the Norman Conquest of England, William the Conqueror and his chief lieutenants, such as William FitzOsbern, Robert of Mortain and Roger of Montgomery, immediately embarked on the construction of castles as both symbolic and practical vehicles of control in the newly conquered kingdom. Some of the most overt statements of lordship were

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made within the intramural spaces of important burghal shire-towns, with large numbers of buildings destroyed and households evicted in many instances, as significant areas were given over for the construction of (mostly) royal castles. Such a pattern of eviction, demolition and construction was seen at Winchester, Norwich, Lincoln, Hereford, Wallingford, Rochester, Shrewsbury and Exeter among others. Most of these castles were created abutting the existing burghal ramparts in ‘corner’ locations. At burghal towns such as Oxford and Stafford, the castles were constructed on the edge of the townscapes with more minimal evictions. At the major cities of London and York, the royal castles were also sited on the edge of the occupied areas, again with minimal disruption to the intramural space, which may be a reflection of the importance of the existing town populations, in terms of revenue generation through taxation of trade (see Chapter 13). In other cases, major castles were built at existing late AngloSaxon royal estate centres, as at Corfe (Dorset) and Portchester Castle (Hampshire), and within the eleventh-century burghal fort at Carisbrooke (Isle of Wight). At Portchester and Cardiff (Glamorgan), the castles were built within the standing enclosures of the Late Roman ‘Saxon-shore-type’ walled circuits; while at Old Sarum, the castle, Norman cathedral and bishop’s palace were built in an Iron Age hillfort, overlooking Salisbury. These castles, built by the 1070s and 1080s, were major constructions in earth and wood. The construction of three stone palace–donjons had certainly begun during the 1070s and early 1080s: the White Tower, at the Tower of London, the Great Tower at Colchester (Essex) and the Great Tower at Chepstow (Gwent). However, construction of the donjon at Colchester was stopped between about 1079 and 1083, possibly with temporary battlements constructed on the half-built donjon, until it was finished under Henry I, by c. 1120 (Dixon 2008, 252–3). Construction of the Tower of London began in the 1070s, within a D-shaped rampart abutting the Roman walls of Londinium, at the southeastern corner of the city next to the Thames. The ducal donjon at Rouen occupied a very similar location (Impey 2008, 19–20). The Tower of London formed part of the dual foci of royal display in London, to partner Edward the Confessor’s Romanesque Westminster Abbey, outside the west of the city, which also became the site of William II Rufus’s Westminster palace in the 1090s. A third royal castle was also built straddling the Roman walled circuit, near St Paul’s Cathedral, in the west of the city in c. 1066–7, in the form of a large earth and wooden construction, but it was abandoned between 1087 and 1111 (Impey 2008, 23). The White Tower was, no doubt, conceived by William as the key

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symbol of his royal authority in England and for governmental ceremony (Marshall 2002; Ashbee 2008, 139). It was a four-storey donjon, with basement, entrance-level floor, and chapel, halls and royal chambers on the upper first and second floors, probably modelled on the donjon at Rouen. Recent analysis of the phases of construction, however, suggests that the Tower was not finished in the Conqueror’s reign and that he probably never used it as a completed building. The concept was that of William I but its execution was completed by William II, probably in c. 1097 (Harris 2008, 41–3). Likewise, recent research has also suggested that the Great Tower at Chepstow was built by William the Conqueror, within the existing promontory castle of William FitzOsbern founded in c. 1068. FitzOsbern’s death in 1071, together with the architectural features of the Great Tower, suggest construction during the 1080s by William, as a symbol of overlordship of southern Wales and as a ceremonial setting for receiving homage. The context for such a construction was the aftermath of his military campaign and pilgrimage to St David’s in 1081, when William also received the submission of Rhys ap Tewdwr of Glamorgan and built the motte inside the Roman fort at Cardiff (Bates 2006, 21; Marshall 2006; Turner, Jones-Jenkins and Priestly 2006, 42). The new ceremonial palace–donjons were accompanied by a programme of Romanesque cathedral building, by the largely Norman episcopal hierarchy that had replaced nearly all Anglo-Saxon bishops in the decades following the Conquest. Even though following an architectural fashion that had been first employed in England by the Anglo-Saxon king Edward the Confessor, the systematic demolition of the greatest symbols of architectural display of Anglo-Saxon England and their replacement by Romanesque counterparts can be regarded as a new statement of ruling power associated with the Norman kingship. Romanesque cathedrals were being built from the 1070s into the middle decades of the 1100s, at Winchester, Canterbury, Rochester, St Paul’s London, Norwich, Lincoln, Old Sarum, York, Durham, Hereford and others (Fernie 2000). Even the last Anglo-Saxon to hold episcopal office, Wulfstan, Bishop of Worcester, demolished his own Anglo-Saxon cathedral and began the process of rebuilding it in the Romanesque style, adopting the spiritual architecture of the new age perhaps, partially, as a survival strategy under the new regime, prior to his death in the 1090s. The new architectural form, ultimately inspired by Roman and Carolingian precedent, became a definitive statement of lordship in both the secular and ecclesiastical spheres, so much so that contemporary native

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rulers in Wales and Scotland used the Romanesque, between the 1070s and 1150, as built symbols of their rule. For example, Queen Margaret of Scotland (of the West Saxon royal line and sister to Edgar the Ætheling) founded the Benedictine convent at Dunfermline (Fife), in 1070, partly to commemorate her marriage there to King Malcolm III ‘Canmore’. She was probably responsible for building the first two stone churches prior to 1093 (Fernie 1994, 26–7; Aird 1998, 254). The Romanesque convent church was built by her youngest son, King David I of Scotland (1124–53), between 1128 and 1150. It was modelled on Durham Cathedral and its crypt became the mausoleum for the Scottish royal dynasty (Fernie 1994, 28–34; Wischerman 2004, 248–9). Prior to his accession, David, as Earl of Northamptonshire in the England of Henry I, and ruler of Scottish Cumbria, also sponsored the construction of the first Romanesque cathedral at Glasgow from 1114 and the foundation of the Tironian priory at Selkirk (Borders) from 1105, later moved to Kelso (Borders) in 1128 after he became king (Cowan 1994, 7; Aird 1998, 253; Fawcett 1998, 1–2). With the appointment of Bishop David to the Diocese of Bangor (Gwynedd), on the joint agreement of Gruffudd ap Cynan, prince of Gwynedd, and Henry I of England in 1120, Gruffudd sponsored the construction of a small Romanesque cathedral, with a western tower possibly emulating the Westwerke of late Carolingian and Ottonian Germany (Thurlby 2006, 194). He was buried beside the altar in the cathedral in 1137. Gruffudd or his sons also built the Benedictine priory church at Penmon (Anglesey), in the Romanesque style, in the 1130s to 1140s (Thurlby 2006, 206–10). In the latter case, however, it was also combined with reflections of their Dublin-Hiberno-Norse heritage, with a sub-Ringerike-style dragon on the tympanum over the main doorway (Moore 1996, 23–6; Redknap 2000, 101). Likewise, the Norse Earls of the Orkneys were also to adopt the Romanesque style in the mid twelfth century, for the Cathedral of St Magnus at Kirkwall which replaced the earlier minster of Christchurch at Birsay. Between the mid eleventh century and 1100, however, the reality of the power of the Norman Dukes and Kings of England, and their leading aristocratic supporters, rested as much on estate centres protected by wood and earth fortifications, as on symbolic monumental building projects in stone. The scale of some of the motte and ring-work castles in Normandy and England speaks of the power of their builders, as symbols in their own right. These castles were held by royal constables, members of comital families and representatives of powerful sub-regional elites, some of whom held possessions in more than one county or duchy (on the Continent).

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For example, at Notre-Dame-de-Gravenchon (Haute-Normandie), in the lower Seine valley, 50 kilometres from Rouen, the ramparts of a vast multiple ring-work fortification are situated in a valley bottom, next to a watercourse, on the edge of the ancient ‘Forest of Gravenchon’ (Map 2). The castle was not located in a good defensible position, and instead it was created in a designed landscape setting of the early decades of the eleventh century, with a principal enclosure 70 m by 50 m in size, a horse-shoe bailey, an adjoining enclosure to the north, interpreted as a space for gardens and orchards, and with a further vast oval enclosure to the north and west, 95 hectares in size, interpreted as a hunting park (Figure 23) (Le Maho 2004b, 191). The castle developed, as at Boves (Somme), from an estate centre focus, dating from the mid tenth century, enclosed by a palisade, and containing a large post-hole-based wooden hall, 22 m by 6 m, with ancillary buildings. A leading member of the household of Richard I, Duke of Normandy (942–96) owned the estate at this time – Turstin the Rich; but by the early eleventh century the estate had been given to the son of Richard I, namely, Robert, Count of Évreux and Archbishop of Rouen from 989 to 1037, and Regent of Normandy from 1035 (Le Maho 2004b, 199). It was from c. 1000 that 8-m-high ramparts were built at Gravenchon, over the former palisade, and the other enclosed spaces were created around it at the same time. Inside the residential enclosure, three ranges of large buildings were erected in wood, each over 30 m in length, making an open courtyard, comprising halls, a chamber, kitchens and latrines. The castle–park complex is best interpreted as a palace–castle, enjoying its floruit during the eleventh century, but occupied until the late twelfth (Le Maho 2004b, 195–9). Other vast earth and wood constructions can be cited from mid to late eleventh-century Normandy and England, seemingly with a role in frontier defence. For example, at Breteuil (Sarthe), held by William FitzOsbern from 1054, the castle is composed of a double ring-work, 140 m by 120 m and 70 m by 50 m, further protected to the north by another rampart, and to the south by two lakes (Bates 2006, 17). The latter features, however, may indicate aspects of aesthetic design, and possibly features to attract wildfowl for falconry. In England, a similarly ostentatious earthwork can be cited at Skipsea Brough (East Yorkshire), with a huge motte, and a lake surrounding and separating it from its D-shaped ring-work bailey. The castle at Skipsea was built on the orders of Count Odo of Champagne, or his successor as Lord of Holderness, Count Stephen of Aumale, between c. 1090 and 1100 (English 1979). Like Breteuil, it can be viewed as an important statement of Norman power in this North-Sea-facing border

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Figure 23 The eleventh-century estate centre-cum-castle and designed landscape at Notre-Dame-de-Gravenchon, Haute Normandie: (a) settlement layout and designed landscape and (b) principal residential focus

region, on the north bank of the Humber estuary, which had been an attempted invasion route for a Danish royal fleet as late as the 1080s. In other instances, large earthwork castles of the mid to late eleventh century were located to protect and control key economic resources, as at Sébécourt (Eure), situated in the former Forest of Conches–Breteuil, on a plateau overlooking the Risle valley and the settlement of La Ferrière (see Map 2). An oval ring-work approximately 100 m by 80 m in size was constructed on the plateau, divided into two baileys, next to the ancient road from Conches to La Ferrière. A separate motte watchtower was built 200 m to its northwest. Huge refuse heaps of iron-smelting slag were located over several hectares to the north and east of the castle (Decaëns 1975, 51–2). The castle and the ironworkings/iron-ore mine pits were held by the powerful de Tosny lords of Conches in the mid to late eleventh century, until forfeiture to the Kings of France after 1204.

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The reign of Henry I of England witnessed a wider ‘investment in stone’ at both royal castles and those of his leading comital vassals. Greater attention was also paid to royal palaces, designed for displaying royal power through conspicuous consumption and largesse and some comfort, as opposed to martial symbolism. He initiated a much larger programme of donjon building than both of his Norman predecessors as kings, in both England and Normandy. He either delegated these major royal building projects to officers of the royal household or he granted royal castles to holders of high ecclesiastical office, such as the Archbishops of Canterbury, on the understanding that they would renovate the castles and hold them for the king. This practice was not an innovation. Gundulf, Bishop of Rochester, was overseeing the construction of the White Tower in London for some years in the 1080s, as well as being responsible for refurbishing William the Conqueror’s castle in Rochester (Tatton-Brown 2006, 26; Harris 2008, 43–5). In a review of the donjons of Henry I, Dixon suggests that Henry completed the donjons at Domfront, Caen (Calvados) and Canterbury before 1120. The royal castle at Rochester was given to the Archbishop of Canterbury, William de Corbeil, in 1127, who built the palace–donjon before his death in 1136. The latter donjon seems to have had rooms for three households, with halls, chamber and well for each (Dixon 2008, 265–6). Henry was also probably responsible for the construction of smaller square donjons within the existing ring-work castles at Bamburgh and Carlisle on the northern frontier of the Kingdom of England, having won back the territories from David I, King of Scotland (Dixon 2008, 264–5). In addition to his continued use of the great tower–donjon as a symbol of royal authority and prestige, Henry also sponsored the construction of a new type of focal structure, placed on a motte within castles, namely the masonry ‘shell-keep’. The origin and development of this kind of keep has been much debated and they may have been influenced by Anglo-Saxon ring-work defences. They seem to have been constructed from the early twelfth century, one of the earliest being the example at Gisors (Vexin), built on Henry’s orders around 1100, comprising a polygonal curtain-wall with residential and other buildings bonded to the curtain. Another example at Saint-Rémy-du-Val (Sarthe) may also have been a royal construction, built in the 1120s to 1130s (Renoux 2003, 47). The shell-keep at Windsor (Berkshire) is the most notable royal example in England. Both examples cited from France above were located in heavily contested border regions of the Anglo-Norman realm. If their origins did partially lie in England, their construction on the frontiers of Henry’s ‘empire’ may have

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symbolised Anglo-Norman political power. Such a strategy of importing architectural traits from England into Normandy has also been suggested as a strategy of Anglo-Norman distinction in ecclesiastical architecture on its southern frontier, at Verneuil-sur-Avre (Eure). Within the context of stabilising the southern frontier, Henry founded the planned ‘borough’ of Verneuil de novo in 1121, constructing all its public buildings from the royal exchequer, namely the castle, borough ramparts and several churches, as well as houses by 1126. His churches of Notre-Dame and La Madeleine at Verneuil have traits in their arcading and the monumental size of their columns that are akin to the cathedrals at Norwich, Peterborough and Durham, and quite alien to Normandy during the 1120s (Lemoine-Descourtieux 2007, 56 and 62–4). Hence, the construction of Verneuil and its architecture are seen as both a real and symbolic statement of Anglo-Norman control of the frontier against the growing power of the Plantagenet Counts of Anjou, during the 1120s and 1130s. Between c. 1100 and the 1140s, the ecclesiastical and comital aristocracies of England and Normandy also indulged in competitive expression in the built environment through emulation of royal architecture, by the construction of stone donjons and shell-keeps at existing castles. It is instructive that the majority built in England during these decades were raised by some of the key supporters and favourites of Henry I. So for example, shell-keeps were built on the mounds of the motte-and-bailey castles at Carisbrooke, on the Isle of Wight, by the De Redvers, Earls of Devon (Young 2000, 194) and at Launceston (Cornwall) by Reginald, Earl of Cornwall (Saunders 2006, 254–5). At Lincoln, the motte was enlarged and the construction of a polygonal shell-keep begun by Countess Lucy, after 1129, and probably finished by her son Ranulph in the 1140s or early 1150s (Vince 2003, 175–6). This was accompanied by extensive remodelling of the castle of William the Conqueror at Lincoln, which seems to have comprised the entire area within the walled circuit of the former legionary fortress as its bailey, with the early motte in the southeast corner, and the Romanesque cathedral begun by Bishop Remigius in the 1070s in the southwest (Vince 2003, 171–2). Contemporary with the construction of the shell-keep, the area of the castle bailey was reduced to encompass only the southeast corner of the legionary fortress, consisting of a ditch and massive earthen ramparts, surmounted by a stone curtain-wall. The ramparts linked with the shell-keep and a small rectangular donjon, or ‘observation tower’, was built encased by a smaller motte, near the east gate of the fortress. The latter was built by 1149 (Vince 2003, 177). A shell-keep was also built for the king at Old Sarum, and a small donjon was added either

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by Henry I or Bishop Roger of Salisbury in the 1120s or 1130s (Montague 2006, 52–3; Dixon 2008, 265). At other castles in western England and along the Welsh Marches, donjon-like gate towers were constructed at castles held by bishops and major secular lords, as at Sherborne (Dorset) and Ludlow (Shropshire) (Thurlby 2006, 40–8). Without direct royal favour and sponsorship, however, the stone elements of comital and ecclesiastical castles tended to be built on a smaller scale than their royal counterparts during the reign of Henry I. This was probably a reflection of the lesser resources of the high aristocracy but it may also have been conscious choice; to attempt to outshine a powerful twelfth-century king could be dangerous. That the resources to build ostentatious castles on a grand scale by the high aristocracy were available to some is suggested by Ranulph of Lincoln’s works at Lincoln castle, undertaken primarily during the reign of Stephen of Blois, during the 1140s, a king with a much weaker resource base, who lost Normandy to the Plantagenet Counts of Anjou, and on his death, England, to Henry II Plantagenet in 1154. Stephen’s reign is known for the profusion of castle-building, as both major and minor aristocrats transformed elements or the entirety of existing earthwork castles into stone, during the civil wars. Occasional ostentatious palace–donjons were built, however, with the permission of Stephen. For example, William de Albini, a senior member of the royal household of Henry I, married the former King’s widow, Adeliza, and began building a palace–donjon at Castle Rising (Norfolk) in the late 1130s or early 1140s, copying that of Henry at Falaise (Calvados) on a slightly smaller scale. William was a rising man, following his marriage, and was created Earl of Sussex by Stephen in 1141 (Morley and Gurney 1997, 3). The palace–donjon was set along with a chapel within a ring-work comprising huge earthen ramparts, and a D-shaped outer bailey. There are signs of eleventh-century Anglo-Saxon occupation in the immediate vicinity and a planned settlement associated with the castle could have been a reorganisation of an existing settlement (Morley and Gurney 1997, 2). The palace–castle and planned settlement were surrounded by an enclosed deer park or ‘chase’, with a circumference of 24 kilometres (Morley and Gurney 1997, 128; Liddiard 2000, 55). In other instances, major comital residences were converted into castles. For example, at Castle Acre (Norfolk), William de Warenne I, Earl of Surrey, had built a palatial two-storey stone manor house by the mid 1080s. It had a square foundation plan, divided into two linked halls at basement level, each 19 m in length, east to west, the northern hall

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with a width of 8 m and the southern hall 9.3 m (Coad and Streeten 1982, 150). The building had an entrance on the ground floor but the main entrance was at first-floor level, leading directly into the dining and residential spaces of the building, approached via an external stairway. There were originally two small ancillary buildings to the north, and all were set in a courtyard surrounded by a small circular ring-work of earth and palisade. A gatehouse was also built in stone sometime in the early twelfth century but the excavators suggested that the large width of the portal indicated a structure built for display more than defence (Coad and Streeten 1982, 164). By the 1140s, however, on the basis of coin evidence, the palatial residence was converted into a donjon, using one of the halls of the residence as its base, with the thickness of its walls doubled and much of the lower floor encased in a motte. The ramparts of the ring-work had already been raised, with a stone curtain-wall surmounting it, and the portal width of the gatehouse reduced (Coad and Streeten 1982, 179–80). The ring-work of the manor house and donjon was accompanied by an outer bailey and a planned village settlement, also within a rampart. A parish church and a separate Cluniac priory were located just beyond the earthworks. The priory at Castle Acre, probably founded c. 1089, was a daughter house of that founded by William I de Warenne at Lewes (Sussex) in 1077, the chief centre of Warenne lands. The Romanesque architecture used in both is of exceptional quality. The construction of the donjon was probably the work of William III de Warenne, Earl of Surrey, who died on the Second Crusade in 1147, at Laodicea in modern Turkey. It is clear that the donjon and the castle, whether in wood or stone, increasingly became a symbol of lordship, between the 1130s and 1150s, emulated down the social spectrum by local lords. This was the era of the relatively widespread construction of small stone donjons and shell-keeps in England and the Welsh Marches, and also of the conversion of manorial centres into small castles at Goltho (Lincolnshire) and Trowbridge (Wiltshire) (Beresford 1987; Graham and Davies 1993). It was only with the accession of Henry II in 1154 that the donjon again became a symbol par excellence of royal power, reinforced by the resources of the Angevin Empire, completed by his marriage to Eleanor, Duchess of Aquitaine. Henry confiscated many former comital and baronial castles in England and built anew or renovated Great Tower donjons at key strategic points, mostly during the 1170s and 1180s. Notable examples are the donjons at Scarborough (Yorkshire), formerly a principal castle of William, Count of Aumale, Lord of Holderness and Earl of Yorkshire, a key supporter of King

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Stephen; and those at Dover and Newcastle, as symbols of his authority at the northern and southern frontiers of England. The donjon as a sign of Angevin imperium extended down to the small example built at Peveril castle, Castleton (Derbyshire) that administered the royal hunting forest of ‘the Peak’ (Map 7). It is probably significant, however, that Peveril castle, like Scarborough, had been confiscated from William Peverel II, lord of Chesterfield and Bolsover, another key supporter of Stephen (Morley 1990, 19). Henry II had also put down a major rebellion in 1173–4, led by his wife, sons and English barons, and the donjon-building programme of the later 1170s and 1180s can be interpreted as a renewed statement of Henry’s ruling power. It is also notable that the donjon as a symbol of lordship was adopted more widely in southern France, while Aquitaine formed part of the Angevin Empire. For example, at Albon (Dauphiné), a stone hall and attached chapel of an estate centre became defended as part of a castrum by 1070, with a natural spur adjacent to it forming a motte. A square masonry donjon was then built on the spur during the mid to late twelfth century by the Guiges family, the Counts of Viennois, later known as the Dauphiné (De Meulemeester, Matthys and Poisson 1997, 146). The power of the Norman and early Angevin kings of England was not only manifested in the martial symbol of the donjon, however. As already mentioned, William II had built the massive Westminster palace hall (73 m by 20.5 m) in stone by 1097, and along with palaces at Winchester and Gloucester, they were the principal residences of the Norman kings for displays of their power through conspicuous consumption (Thomas 2002, 37–8). Others can be added to these including the castle–palace at Windsor (Berkshire), the palaces at Woodstock and Oxford–Beaumont (both Oxfordshire), and numerous smaller royal hunting lodges/palaces, such as Cheddar (Somerset). Indeed, most of the major palaces were all located near large royal hunting forests, Winchester being close to the New Forest and Gloucester close to the Forest of Dean, while others, like Windsor, possessed smaller hunting parks. In most cases these palace complexes were transformed Anglo-Saxon foundations, as at Westminster (Thomas 2002, 39), Winchester (Biddle 1976, 130) and Cheddar (Rahtz 1979). The mid to late eleventh-century palaces all combined association between one or more large secular halls and a religious focus, whether within or on the fringes of major urban foci, as at Winchester and Westminster, or in rural settings as at Cheddar. At Westminster, the huge Romanesque hall of William Rufus was used for public feasts and ceremony, while a second smaller stone hall to its south, built by the Anglo-Saxon king Edward the

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Confessor, was used as a residence. Henry II added a second storey and a chamber annex to Edward’s hall in the mid to late twelfth century (Thomas 2002, 39). John Blair has suggested a similar arrangement of large public hall and smaller residential hall for the late eleventh-century renovations at Cheddar. The old west hall of the Anglo-Saxon kings was rebuilt and a large aisled hall was added to its east (Rahtz 1979, 60–2). Blair suggested that the reduced west hall served as the private royal residential building, while the east hall served public functions (Blair 1993). By the mid twelfth century, such private residential buildings had become referred to under the terms camera or chamber. The palace-castle at Windsor and the palace at Oxford were foundations of Henry I. The palace at Oxford, known as Beaumont palace, was built outside the north gate of the town, while Oxford castle was located at the western pole of the town. The palace had been completed by 1132, when Henry I and the royal court spent Easter there. It is known to have been surrounded by a wall with a gate, and excavations have produced signs of two stone buildings of unknown form, along with evidence of gardens or orchards (Dodd 2003, 59). It also possessed one of the earliest cloisters or covered courtyards at a royal palace, although it may have been added later in the twelfth century (Ashbee 2006, 83). Beaumont was also extensively used by Stephen and Henry II, between the 1140s and 1160s; and Kings Richard I the Lionheart and John were born there. The palace at Oxford was a favourite transit palace on the way to the hunting palace at Woodstock. The palace at Woodstock had been confiscated by Stephen, on the death of Roger, Bishop of Salisbury, in 1139, and it formed one of three major episcopal palaces that were taken by the crown on the death of the former chief minister of Henry I, together with Old Sarum and Sherborne (Dorset). The bishop’s palaces at Sherborne and Old Sarum were both constructed between 1110 and the 1130s, and both had courtyard or cloister-like plans. The example at Sherborne had a small donjonlike solar-tower, as a residential focus at the southwest corner of the courtyard complex, with a chamber occupying the north range of the cloister, and a hall at the south (Blair 1993). The courtyard and hall complex at Old Sarum, to the north of the cathedral, seems to date from between 1110 and 1125 (Montague 2006, 56–8). Both these palaces were smaller than the much larger Wolvesey palace at Winchester, where hall, chamber, chapel, kitchens and a corner tower were located around the courtyard (Biddle 1972; Blair 1993). The latter was built by the Bishops of Winchester and completed by Henry of Blois, King Stephen’s brother, in the 1140s. A smaller courtyard and solar-tower manor-house complex of

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the Bishops of Winchester, dating from the same period, has also been excavated at Witney (Oxfordshire) (Allen with Blair 2002, 228–30). As a group, their plans may have been influenced by ecclesiastical cloisters, and all are seen as symbolic statements of episcopal authority. They were all in royal hands, however, by the 1150s but their influence on the royal courtyard palaces of Henry II and his sons is unclear. At Everswell, a secondary palace complex within Woodstock palace and park (Oxfordshire), the buildings seem to have comprised two adjoining courtyards, and the inner courtyard contained three rectangular, stonelined pools (Ashbee 2006, 78–9; Creighton 2009, 60–1). Inspiration for such water features and the general courtyard concept has long been attributed to Islamic influence from Fatimid north Africa, travelling via the Norman royal court of Roger II and his successors in Sicily. In a recent reassessment, Ashbee has noted that the closest parallels to Everswell, at the Sicilian courtyard palaces of La Zisa (with three adjoining rectangular pools) and La Cuba, are contemporary with or later than Everswell and so could not have been models for it but there were also other courtyard palaces in Sicily at La Favara and Altofonte, built by Roger II in the 1130s, and Anglo-Norman officials of Henry II served Roger in Sicily (Ashbee 2006, 80–3). Henry also seems to have built a similar courtyard palace in the upper ward at Windsor castle. Given the close connections between Henry II and Norman Sicily (one of his daughters was married to Roger II’s successor) and his links with the ‘Frankish’ eastern Mediterranean more generally (the Plantagenets were the closest blood relations to the Kings of Jerusalem), the adoption of some Islamic architectural fashions should not surprise. Indeed, travelling via Norman Sicily, they may not have been perceived as Islamic but simply as more luxurious building fashions from their family relations and fellow Christian kings in the Mediterranean. All the building strategies of the Norman and Plantagenet kings of England and their highest aristocracies were symbolic acts to consolidate and legitimise their power. The Norman dynasty had been Dukes of Normandy; the Plantagenets, Counts of Anjou. Both had to demonstrate their new royal power and establish its actual and symbolic foundations and practices. Their castles, palaces, royal forests and parks were some of the key theatres in which to enact that power. It can be no coincidence that in Norman Sicily, their kinsman by marriage, Roger II, was using directly analogous strategies. He too had elevated himself from Count of Sicily and Calabria to King of Sicily, southern Italy and part of north Africa, in 1130. The monuments and ruling images of his reign were all designed to

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legitimise and emphasise his newly won royal status. In doing this he borrowed heavily from Byzantine imperial and Islamic imagery in royal representation and ceremony, seen in the royal palace in Palermo, the extramural palaces of the Favara and Altofonte, and in the amalgamation of Romanesque architecture with eastern styles in the cathedrals at Palermo and Cefalù. The palace at Favara on the southern edge of Palermo had a park and lake, while that at Altofonte in the mountains to the south of Palermo was a hunting park and palace. After Roger died, his remains were held in a porphyry coffin, yet further emulation of Roman and Byzantine imperium (Houben 2002, 113–33). Such yearning for legitimacy using the symbols of the Roman imperial past and Byzantine present was the hallmark of the upwardly mobile princelings of ‘Frankish’ western Europe and the Mediterranean between 1000 and 1150.

11 The rural world, AD 900–1150: lifestyles of old

and new aristocracies

Aristocratic lifestyles: conspicuous consumption, profligate waste and household leisure pursuits In order to appreciate the emulative practices of the socially mobile elements of tenth- to twelfth-century societies in northwest Europe, it is first necessary to explore the continuities and transformations of the lifestyles of the high aristocracy, between c. 900 and 1150. For purpose of analysis, these lifestyles can be divided broadly into two categories of social practices: firstly, lifestyles of consumption at the newly built venues for display and ceremony, and the networks involved in their support; and secondly, activities demonstrating power and authority in the landscape through hunting, warfare and acts of religious veneration. One of the most striking aspects of life at the centres of the highest elite between AD 900 and 1150 is continuity in the fundamental importance of conspicuous consumption through public dining or feasting. While some of the theatres for feasting had been aggrandised or transformed, the ‘props’ used to display status and control of resources of land, river and sea often remained the same as those of seventh- to ninth-century aristocratic counterparts in Britain and West Francia. In general, the cultural traditions amongst the exploitation of the main domesticated species remained the same, with pork being the dominant meat consumed at elite centres on the Continent, often comprising between 40% and 75% of the meat consumed (Rodet-Belarbi 2009, 345–6), and beef being the predominant meat in Anglo-Saxon England. However, as a proportion of meat consumed, more pork was eaten in the wealthiest households of tenth- and eleventh-century England too (Woolgar 2007, 165). After the Norman Conquest, a significant proportion of the comital castle sites also followed Continental fashion, with pigs becoming the predominant domestic species consumed, as at Castle Acre (Lawrance 1982), Carisbrooke (Smith 2000, 181) and Hen Domen, Montgomery (Powys) (Browne 2000). At other aristocratic sites in Anglo-Norman England pork consumption at least equalled that of beef, as at Castle Rising (Jones, Reilly and Pipe 1997, 125) and Launceston (Albarella, Davis and Smith 2006, 448). There were

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regional differences in the proportion of domesticates in different English regions, however, with sheep/mutton being the dominant species consumed at Carisbrooke on the Isle of Wight, and mutton being the second most frequently consumed meat at Castle Acre, in Norfolk. Indeed, through time pork consumption in general declined in medieval England, in favour of a rise in mutton consumption (Albarella 2006, 74–6) but conspicuous eating of pork seems to have been an especial marker of high elite status in West Francia, between the tenth and twelfth centuries, and in Anglo-Norman England, during the later eleventh and twelfth centuries. Whereas there were cultural differences between the British Isles and West Francia in regard to consumption of the main domesticates on aristocratic sites, there were far more traits held in common and far greater continuities in regard to the consumption of wild fauna. In comparison to the settlements of farming households, the centres of the royal and comital aristocracies consumed a far greater number and range of wild animals and birds. As on the secular elite settlements of the seventh to ninth centuries, particular species of wild bird were favoured ‘feast species’, such as cranes and herons. For example, cranes were consumed at tenth-century Distré, Villiers-le-Sec, Douai, Compiègne, Flixborough–Conesby, Eynsham and Bishopstone; and at eleventh- and twelfth-century Toulouse, Castle Rising and Scarborough castle (see Maps 2, 3. 7 and 8) (Jones, Reilly and Pipe 1997; Weinstock 2002; Dobney et al. 2007b; Rodet-Belarbi 2009, 351; Poole 2010). Herons were consumed between the eighth and twelfth centuries at Andone, Douai, Toulouse, Auberoche (Dordogne), Flixborough, Bishopstone, Castle Rising and Norwich (Rodet-Belarbi 2009, 351; Dobney et al. 2007b; Poole 2010; Jones, Reilly and Pipe 1997; Albarella, Beech and Mulville 2009, 351). Red and roe deer were also consumed in significant quantities at elite centres between the tenth and mid twelfth centuries at secular elite centres, with red deer being in the majority on some sites and roe on others. Both red and roe deer were present at Andone, Fécamp, Distré, Pineulh (Gironde), Douai and Compiègne, in France (RodetBelarbi 2009b, 349); and at Cheddar, Flixborough–Conesby, Bishopstone, North Elmham, Castle Rising, Launceston, Scarborough and Witney, in England. Fallow deer, probably reintroduced to Britain following the Norman Conquest, were consumed to a limited extent on a small number of sites, prior to the later twelfth century. Sites with limited numbers include Cheddar, Carisbrooke, Launceston, Castle Acre and Witney. They were consumed in larger numbers at Castle Rising in the twelfth century. Castle sites in West Francia were totaly devoid of fallow deer in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, adding weight to Sykes’s theory

The rural world, AD 900–1150: aristocratic lifestyles

of their reintroduction into England via Norman Sicily, not via West Francia (Sykes 2006, 172–3). Other similarities in the target species for elite consumption include marine resources, namely cetaceans (whales and dolphins/porpoises) and marine fish. During the course of the tenth to twelfth centuries, consumption of marine fish increased, with salted species being transported sometimes far inland. These often included large deep-sea fish, such as cod and haddock, and herring, in addition to estuarine flatfish. So, for example, at the estate centre and later castle at Boves, near Amiens, cod, herring and flounder were eaten (Clavel 2001, 12). Most of the latter species were also consumed at tenth-century Bishopstone and Flixborough–Conesby but the latter settlements in England were coastal and estuarine settlements (Dobney et al. 2007a, 96; Poole 2010). Cod, ray, ling and flounder were also recovered from Castle Rising and Castle Acre, also suggesting the trade of salted fish inland from the coast of Norfolk by the early twelfth century (Lawrance 1982; Locker 1997, 131). Cod and herring were also found in large numbers at Norwich castle and also at Scarborough castle, in the twelfth century (Weinstock 2002; Locker 2009, 443). Currently, continuity of exploitation of dolphins and porpoises as feast meats for the highest aristocracy is suggested only in England, between the tenth and early thirteenth centuries. Dolphins were consumed at the estate centre of Flixborough–Conesby, as they had been in the later seventh and eighth centuries (Dobney et al. 2007b), and fragments of dolphin carcases also probably reflect consumption at late twelfth-century Scarborough castle and early thirteenth-century Launceston (Weinstock 2002; Albarella, Davies and Smith 2006). At tenth-century Bishopstone, fragments of the jaw of a sperm whale may reflect consumption of the tongue of the animal (Poole 2010). Whereas consumption of dolphins at feasts seems to have been a fashion of eighth- to twelfth-century England, consumption of other exotic species was largely a fashion of West Francia. For example, the eating of sturgeon seems to have been a preserve of aristocratic sites. They were consumed at seventh- to ninth-century Serris and Hamage in northern France, and they continued to be a delicacy, between the tenth and twelfth centuries, with bones and scales recovered from Boves and Andone, in both northern and southern France (Rodet-Belarbi 2009, 342; Clavel and Yvinec 2010, 80; Racinet 2010, 265). In England, sturgeon was consumed in a post-Conquest context at Eynsham (Ayres, Locker and Serjeantson 2003, 364). Peacock was also consumed relatively widely at aristocratic centres in France, as at Boves, Andone, Pineuilh (Gironde), and Auberoche (Rodet-Belarbi 2009, 351).

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Prior to the Norman Conquest, peacocks were present in England but they have only been recovered from Wicken Bonhunt and the tenth- to eleventh-century town at Thetford, in a mercantile context (Dobney et al. 2007b, 229). After the Conquest, they were present at Castle Acre and Carisbrooke. Wild boar also seems to have been consumed in smaller numbers in England, in contrast to their widespread consumption in France and also Rhineland Germany, reflecting differential choice and possibly different ecologies or management strategies of woodlands. Amongst smaller game species, the consumption of hares was ubiquitous, with the eating of rabbit in England being another consequence of the Norman Conquest. Partridges also seem to have been consumed less in England than in France, prior to 1066, but they were consumed at Castle Acre, Hen Domen and Scarborough castle, during the twelfth century (Lawrance 1982, 286; Browne 2000, 132; Weinstock 2002, 14). The tablewares, usually drinking vessels and jugs, for the consumption of wine, ale or cider to accompany the eating of feast species changed in Britain from the end of the ninth century. Glass drinking vessels are all but absent on sites of the tenth to twelfth centuries. Instead, manuscript illuminations of feasts suggest that drinking horns were the norm alongside metal drinking vessels both in public feasting and private dining, as seen in the Cotton Claudius illuminations from the early decades of the eleventh century (Figure 24). This absence may relate to a disruption in the supply of soda-glass vessels and the onset of the manufacture of wood-ash– potassium glass vessels but it may also have been cultural choice as glass drinking vessels of both soda- and wood-ash-derived glass have been recovered at aristocratic centres in France. Examples of both were found at Andone, dating from the late tenth and early eleventh centuries (Velde and Bourgeois 2009, 239–43); and glass vessels were also recovered from Boves, Distré and Olby in tenth-century deposits (Gaimé et al. 1999; Gentili and Valais 2007; Racinet 2010, 262). Inventories and a testament of the portable wealth of the mid eleventh-century Catalan aristocrat Arnau Mir de Tost list in his possession over forty goblets and cups, multiple silver platters and vessels, a gold vase, and silver spoons and ladles (Bonnassie 1991b, 241–2). Other exotic non-metal tableware was also recovered from Andone, in the form of a sherd of a turquoise-glazed pottery jug or bowl, of the same tradition as the eleventh-century pottery from al-Raqqa in Syria (Henderson et al. 2005, 142). Other sherds of this Raqqa-type of Islamic pottery are known from western Europe: for example, from a merchant–patrician’s house of the eleventh century, the Ca’ Vendramin Calergi, in Venice (Bourgeois, Velde and Vequaud 2009,

The rural world, AD 900–1150: aristocratic lifestyles

Figure 24 Manuscript illumination showing public feasting in England during the first half of the eleventh century, in a two-storey hall

307–8). In England, Continental fineware pottery was imported in small quantities, notably Pingsdorf-type and Andenne wares, but they were not used in large quantities in feasting. At the same time, however, products of large-scale wheel-thrown pottery industries, such as Stafford ware, produced more diverse tableware forms, including goblet-cups and bowls, between the tenth and eleventh centuries, for wide urban and rural markets (Carver 2010, 92). By the tenth and eleventh centuries, the principal venue for public feasting was a large hall at both palaces and important estate centres, in both West Francia and Anglo-Saxon England. Stone and wooden examples from West Francia were between 20 m and 30 m in length and between 6 m and 8 m in width: for example, the stone halls at Doué-la-Fontaine, Ename

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and Mayenne, and the wooden hall complexes at Notre-Dame-deGravenchon. It was also only from the tenth century that large principal buildings, for residential purposes and dining, were more widespread at long-existing estate centres, such as Villiers-le-Sec and Distré, among others. The same pattern of the creation of large principal buildings at the heart of estate centres is also seen in Anglo-Saxon England, primarily from the early tenth century onwards. Principal buildings, often referred to as ‘halls’, had been present as focal points on some key Anglo-Saxon estate centres during the seventh and eighth centuries, but they have proved very rare (see Chapter 7). The majority of elite secular centres possessed multiple rectangular buildings for residence and dining, between the seventh and ninth centuries, in both West Francia and England. Hence, the emergence more generally of a focal core of principal large hall range and ancillary residential buildings was a significant change in the internal social organisation of settlements. Examples from tenth- to eleventh-century England are found at Flixborough–Conesby, Wicken Bonhunt, Bishopstone and North Elmham, among others. By this period, these Anglo-Saxon buildings were also regularly around 20 m in length and between 6 m and 8 m in width. The creation of the palace– or hall–donjon retained the purpose of the hall, placing it on an upper storey, above a basement on a ground floor, and some wooden halls with more than one storey may have followed a similar use of space, like their twelfth-century stone successors. Additional room suites also acted as more private residential quarters, often on the upper floors of donjons (see Chapter 10). The locations of the kitchens and cooking areas associated with the preparation of daily aristocratic dining and staged feasts have rarely been identified. This is especially true for donjons; indeed, recent architectural analysis of palace–donjons of the eleventh to mid twelfth centuries has tended to suggest that a significant proportion did not have kitchens within them, and were sometimes not designed for residence (Marshall 2006). Excavated deposits from the donjon at Tours, however, have shown that a significant part of the ground floor of that building was used for food preparation and cooking (Galinié with Husi et al. 2007, 76 and 78). In other instances, there were kitchens immediately beyond donjons or hall blocks, as at Scarborough castle. The potential internal furnishings of some of these public and private settings can again be gleaned from descriptions of royal and aristocratic households. Queen Edith of England, wife of Edward the Confessor and sister of Harold Godwinson, took great pains to enhance the impact and comfort of the king’s halls, chambers and throne with ‘Spanish rugs’ and gold-embroidered hangings (Barlow 2002, 36). Again, the inventory

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of the possessions of the Catalan nobleman Arnau Mir de Tost, an aristocrat just below comital rank, describes his silver chandeliers and silvered iron examples of the latter, bench covers of Cordovan leather, curtains of silk and linen, and multiple sheets, bedcovers and pillows of silk (Bonnassie 1991b, 240–1). He lived in Catalonia, neighbouring the Islamic taifa kingdoms of Spain, so greater quantities of silk might be expected compared to many households of equivalent rank further north, but he was not of comital or royal status. There is also evidence of the use of hunting trophies as hangings, rugs and clothing, or their importation via merchants. Skeletal remains of brown bears have been excavated from tenth-century deposits at the residence of the Counts of Flanders in Bruges, and in eleventh- to twelfth-century deposits from the donjon at Tours (Ervynck 1992, 157; Cotté and Poupon in Galinié with Husi et al. 2007, 77). The former may have been a hanging or a rug, as the skull was present; whereas the remains from Tours comprised the claws, which could have been from a hanging, rug or fur cloak. Other markers of aristocratic lifestyle and consumption between the tenth and twelfth centuries included attitudes to the discard of objects and waste, and patronage of specialists working in precious metals. The discard strategies at Boves, Distré and Andone, between the early tenth and mid eleventh century, are especially instructive in this regard. The wealth and status of the occupants of the settlements is reflected principally in what they could afford to throw away as refuse. Large quantities of iron tools, weapons, fragments of armour and riding gear were all discarded in large quantities, relative to most other settlements of their day. Fine dress jewellery, such as an enamelled disc brooch from Andone, imported from either Anglo-Saxon England or Ottonian Germany in the late tenth century (Bourgeois and Biron 2009, 128–30); silver coinage – deniers and oboles – from regional mints (Dhenin 2009, 122–5) and glass vessel fragments were also incorporated into refuse deposits, and were not retrieved. Gold, silver and ironworking evidence was also found at Boves and Andone. Yet the need for recycling appears to have been minimal at these settlements. In their profligate discard of objects, these settlements were very similar to the Anglo-Saxon settlement at Flixborough, during its seventh- to ninth-century phases. By the tenth century, however, the discard of objects had diminished at the latter settlement, despite markers of elevated status provided by its large buildings and consumption of wild species, such as cranes and dolphins. In addition to conspicuous consumption of food, both domesticated and wild, and profligate discard and waste of normally valuable objects, leisure

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was the other marker of elite household status. An increasing number of bone, antler and, sometimes, ivory chessmen have been excavated recently from early castle centres in West Francia, dating from the later tenth and eleventh centuries, in addition to counters and incised gaming boards for nine-men’s morris or merels/marelles, and dice. Bone and antler chessmen were recovered from Andone, the early hall–donjons at Mayenne and Pineuilh; and three examples made from walrus ivory were excavated from eleventh- to early twelfth-century deposits at the castle of Crèvecoeur-en-Auge (Calvados) (Early 2001; Goret and Poplin 2008, 68; Bourgeois and Rodet-Belarbi 2009, 261–4). Interestingly, all the latter have Arab-style non-figurative forms, reflecting the early date of these chessmen, and the fact that the game was imported from the Islamic world, via Spain or southern Italy, in the later tenth century (Goret and Poplin 2008, 65). Both ivory and rock-crystal chess sets are mentioned in the mid eleventh-century inventory of Arnau Mir de Tost (Bonnassie 1991b, 242). It has been suggested that the walrus ivory for the Crèvecoeur chessmen was probably imported from Scandinavia, via England and probably Rouen. In addition, a significant number of walrus ivory gaming pieces for a backgammon-like game, called ‘tables’ or perhaps ‘eschaçons’, are also known. Many were made in a famous ivory workshop in Cologne, between c. 1125 and 1175. Like the early non-figurative chess pieces, the ‘table-men’ counters also possessed relief-carved images within a central roundel, often portraying scenes from Greco-Roman myths, such as the life of Hercules, or biblical scenes, such as the life of Samson, as well as representations of signs of the zodiac and exotic and mythical animals (Robinson 2008, 149, 174 and 298). Like chess, the game of ‘tables’ was also probably transmitted via the Islamic world, via Spain, Sicily or the Latin Crusader kingdoms of the Middle East. What is striking about these gaming pieces is the expansion in the material representation of images from classical antiquity, astrology and exotic eastern and African animals in a secular context by the early twelfth century. These early non-figurative chessmen and the twelfth-century table-men are very different from the ninety-three figurative chessmen found as a hoard on the island of Lewis, off western Scotland. The latter were probably carved between the mid twelfth and early thirteenth century in Scandinavia, possibly at Trondheim in Norway, and are also made from walrus ivory derived from the Arctic (Stratford 1997; Caldwell et al. 2009, 197–8). All the ivory chessmen and table-men, however, are markers of east-to-west and north-to-south movement of ideas and raw materials from the Arctic to the shores of the eastern Mediterranean, for use in elite

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household leisure contexts between the later tenth and twelfth centuries. Both archaeological and textual evidence shows that these games were played from Britain to the Latin kingdoms of the Levant. That they were played in elite and military contexts is reflected in their prohibition in the first ‘primitive’ rule of the Knights Templar, of the mid twelfth century (Upton-Ward 1992, 89–90). The playing of merels was allowed, however, as long as no gambling was associated with it. Indeed, merels boards have been found at a number of twelfth- and thirteenth-century castles in the Middle East, including Arsuf, the Templar castles of Vadum Jacob and Atlit, and Hospitaller castle of Belvoir, while bone dice were also found at Château Pélérin (Boas 1999, 168–70, 2006, 203–4). One can cite exactly the same range of evidence: stone merels boards, bone gaming counters and dice from twelfth-century Castle Acre, in England (Margeson 1982, 253). The factor of fundamental importance is that people living at elite centres, often castles, had the time and ease to partake in the games of chess, tables and merels. Given that sets of chess and tables pieces were traded from town-based manufacturing workshops, there must also have been an awareness of the games amongst the merchant–artisan populations of growing urban centres. The evidence for the playing of merels is spread quite widely through the spectrum of elite and urban populations of the tenth to twelfth centuries, and the presence of gaming counters and merels boards is more a marker of spare time rather than elite status itself. In contrast, signs of leisure pursuits are much rarer among rural farming households. Hence, gaming pieces can be regarded as markers of functional roles not primarily related to agriculture, including those of military retainer and merchant–artisan. When considering the diverse reflections of power and role displayed by the highest aristocracy and their immediate household retainers, the importance and scale of their social networks is emphasised again and again. This is not so true of lifestyles reflected at, perhaps, periodically visited rural estate centres such as Villiers-le-Sec, Flixborough–Conesby or Bishopstone, where regional connections are made manifest, but it is certainly true of the major venues for social display, especially from the mid to late eleventh century. The geographical scope of those networks also changed from the later tenth to mid eleventh centuries, with greater levels of contact with the Islamic and Byzantine Mediterranean, which became ever closer with the Norman Conquest of southern Italy and Sicily in the later eleventh century, and the establishment of the ‘Frankish’ Latin kingdoms, following the First Crusade. By the early to mid eleventh century, the networks of northern Europe and Scandinavia were joining with those of the Mediterranean, epitomised in

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gaming pieces of Islamic inspiration being made in materials derived from the Arctic, and the presence of items from both the Islamic Middle East and England or northern Germany being used within the context of household display in southern France, at Andone (Bourgeois et al. 2009). By the 1040s, the Byzantines were actively recruiting soldiers in Anglo-Saxon England, suggested by the recovery of a lead seal of the Byzantine military commander John Raphael in excavations at Winchester, where late tenth-century Byzantine coinage has also been excavated (Harris 2003, 37; Moorhead 2009, 269). By the later eleventh century, exotic species such as fallow deer may well have been imported directly into England from Norman Sicily (Sykes 2006), along with changes in clothing fashion, such as the long tunic split down the side, reputedly introduced to Normandy and England by Duke Robert Curthose, via Sicily, following a visit while he was involved in the First Crusade (Scott 2007, 39). The latter may not be true but by the second decade of the twelfth century the fashion for long tunics was widespread, as was the wearing of hair long by men for members of the secular elite, contrasting the fashion of eleventh-century West Francia. The range of influences from Spain also went beyond the gold and silver extorted from the taifa kingdoms, and the importation of new technology, such as the abacus, astrolabe and Arabic numerals (Bonnassie 2004, 19–20; Brown 2010, 79–89). Cotton, silks, sugar and rice were also crossing the Pyrenees. Silk thread and ribbons derived from Byzantium or the Islamic Mediterranean were already being used to decorate linen dresses at the aristocratic crannog settlement at Llangors (Powys) in the land-locked mountains of mid-Wales during the early tenth century (Granger-Taylor and Pritchard 1991). And by the early decades of the eleventh century, silks and embroidered clothes using gold imported from Al-Andalus and Byzantium were relatively widespread among the Anglo-Saxon aristocracy, reflected by Ælfric in his Colloquy and in descriptions of earls and leading thegns (Swanton 1975; Rex 2005, 76; Fleming 2007). By the mid eleventh century, the quantities of silk clothing, furnishings and furs listed among the possessions of the Catalan aristocrat Arnau Mir de Tost are quite staggering (Bonnassie 1991b, 238–9). The same materials, foodstuffs and spices, together with products made of elephant ivory, also travelled into northern Europe from Norman Sicily and Fatimid north Africa, from the eleventh century (see below). Many of these networks were ultimately the products of three practices: pilgrimage, increased north–south and east–west trade, and armed conquest. Yet the transfers were not all from the Islamic West and East to the northwest of Europe. Furs were also travelling southwards from the Arctic and northern

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Europe, possibly reflected in the ermine and marten furs belonging to Arnau Mir de Tost, in eleventh-century Catalonia (Bonnassie 1991b, 238–9). In 1996, a fragment of silk brocade embroidered with gold thread was found in a tomb beneath the twelfth-century Cathedral of St Peter in Caesarea (Israel), perhaps opus Anglicanum embroidered in England, or from Germany (Boas 1999, 182). All these networks mark the connectivity necessary for the support of lifestyles of social display and ostentatious consumption, expected in household contexts of the ruling aristocracies of the ‘Frankish’ world, between the eleventh and mid twelfth centuries. Ultimately, that connectivity between east and west is perhaps best epitomised by intermarriage at royal and comital levels. This is manifested materially in a lead seal of Baldwin II, King of Jerusalem (1118–31) excavated from the ground floor of the donjon of the Counts of Anjou, in Tours (Galinié with Husi et al. 2007, 77). It must have accompanied a letter to his future son-in-law, Count Fulk V of Anjou, who married Baldwin’s daughter Melisende in 1128, and became King of Jerusalem in 1131. That marriage made the Angevin King of England, Henry II, one of the closest family relatives of the Kings of Jerusalem, between the 1150s and 1180s; and from 1177, he was also father-in-law of William II, the King of Norman Sicily, a dynastic association reflected physically in the Becket mosaics of the monastic church at Monreale, Sicily (Matthew 1992, 205).

Markers of power and authority in the landscape: hunting, warfare, pilgrimage and memorialisation Intimately entangled with the spectacle of ostentatious consumption within palace and castle venues were the principal activities undertaken within the landscapes of northwest Europe that came to mark high aristocratic status and functional roles, between the tenth and mid twelfth centuries. The markers of that elevated status all related to demonstrations of power over landscapes and their populations, and all reflected the mobility of rulers and their retinues, and their ability to travel quickly on horseback. Those activities comprised, firstly, hunting and falconry: acts of conspicuous public leisure, over managed ‘wild’ landscapes, and sometimes farmed landscapes; secondly, warfare, to defend and expand territories through violence and to maintain positions of leadership within a locality, region or principality; and thirdly, acts of religious veneration, memorialisation and gift-giving, primarily within the context of pilgrimage

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and alliance-making, to publicly attain religious support for sometimes new positions of ruling power. Deer were the principal prey for the chase, and wildfowl were taken by netting or falcons. Many of the waterfowl and deer species recovered as bones from food remains were especially targeted species for hunting and falconry. The consumption of the wild game can be seen as the end of a two-part process of display: firstly, the action of crossing both managed ‘wild’ and cultivated spaces in the landscape to capture and kill the prey, emphasising lordly power and rights over game to the wider populace; and secondly, its consumption in a man-made theatre provided by a communal dining hall. Sykes has also emphasised how the organisation and facilitation of the hunt in early to mid eleventh-century England could reinforce positions of lordship, even over members of the increasingly independent urban burgess populations of the time. For example, the citizens of the burhs of Hereford and Shrewsbury were legally obliged to act as drivers in royal hunts (Sykes 2010, 184). Prior to 1066, the citizens of eleventhcentury Norwich were also obliged to render annually to the king a goshawk, a key hunting bird capable of taking larger wildfowl (Albarella, Beech and Mulville 2009, 185). It is also clear from the colloquy of Ælfric that specialist huntsmen and fowlers were also linked to aristocratic households, or were elements within them by the early eleventh century at the latest, in England; and the same can be assumed for West Francia (Swanton 1975, 111). Indeed, huntsmen and fowlers are recorded in Carolingian royal households from the ninth century (Hincmar of Rheims, De ordine palatii, 76–8, Gross and Schieffer 1980, 395–407). Specialist foresters or verderers were a feature of the major woodland, moorland and upland tracts of landscape in England, ruled under royal ‘forest law’, following the Norman Conquest, for example in the New Forest (Hampshire) and the Peak Forest (Derbyshire/Staffordshire). The foresters in the Peak Forest had a ‘hall’ designated for their specific use at its heart by the twelfth century, located at the present-day village of Peak Forest, and other foresters’ ‘chambers’ were sited in adjacent baronial hunting forests. It is unclear, however, to what extent the latter developments were all a result of the Norman Conquest. The Peak Forest was mostly carved from the existing territory of the eleventh-century AngloSaxon royal estate at Hope (Derbyshire), and Barnatt and Smith have suggested that elements of the hunting landscape may already have been managed in a similar fashion to the royal ‘Forest’ of the twelfth century (Barnatt and Smith 2004, 93). The popularity of hunting among the aristocracy, as an essential marker of their status, cannot be

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overemphasised. Some literate aristocrats, such as King Harold II Godwinson of England, are recorded as having had books on hunting (Rex 2005, 77). Nor can its risks be ignored: William II of England (1087–99) was killed by an arrow while hunting driven deer with the bow, in the New Forest (Mason 2005, 222–8). On the basis of the archaeological evidence for their consumption, it is clear that red and roe deer were the principal species hunted by both secular aristocrats and bishops and their households, between the tenth and mid twelfth centuries. Sometimes, red deer were the predominant species hunted, and sometimes roe. Sykes has observed a greater preference for hunting red deer in England between the mid eleventh and twelfth centuries, contrasting with tenth-century Anglo-Saxon preference which tended towards roe deer. She explains this change within the context of a transformation in the nature of managed hunting landscapes, from enclosed woodland parks, better suited to roe deer, in later Anglo-Saxon England, to larger hunting landscapes that comprised woodland, open heath and cultivated land after the Norman Conquest, better suited to red deer (Sykes 2006, 169). Such an explanation is not universally applicable, however, as larger forest and moorland tracts were also used by the tenth- and eleventh-century Anglo-Saxon and Anglo-Scandinavian royal families, in the Peak District, the Quantocks (Somerset) and the Forest of Dean (Gloucestershire). Both red and roe deer species were still hunted and consumed at centres of the eleventh and twelfth centuries, in England and France. At the donjon residence of the Counts of Anjou at Tours, roe deer predominated among the deer, followed by red deer, during the eleventh and twelfth centuries; fallow were absent (Cotté and Poupon in Galinié with Husi et al. 2007, 77). Enclosed parks were also created within wider woodland, heath and cultivated landscapes ruled by forest law, however: again English examples come from the Peak Forest, so the occurrence of species suited to parklands and larger tracts of landscape should be expected. It would also be a mistake to give hunting primacy of function in woodland and other ‘hunting forest’ landscapes. Many in Britain and France possessed cultivated farmland and specialist industrial communities within their bounds, from the eleventh century and earlier, for example lead mining and smelting within the Peak Forest, iron-ore mining and smelting within the Forest of Dean, and similar iron-ore mining and smelting within the forests of lower Normandy, southern Champagne and northern Burgundy (Decaëns 1975, 51–2; Verna 1995; Hooke 1998, 206; Barnatt and Smith 2004, 111–13). In some areas, the preference for red deer may reflect survival of habitat for truly wild herds. Bones from very large individuals from the ring-work

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at Llantrithyd (Glamorgan), near Cardiff, and the motte and bailey castle at Loughor (Gower) in south Wales, have previously been viewed as indicative of the survival of virgin forest and heath in that region (Noddle 1977, 65–6). Red deer also predominated at Hen Domen, near Montgomery, with a smaller number of roe deer also present (Browne 2000, 130–2). The position of the latter settlements in the political borderlands of the Welsh Marches may also account for the much more limited representation of the parkland species, perhaps more conducive to less volatile regions, which did not become conflict landscapes so frequently, during the twelfth century. Preference for the hunting of red deer, usually with dogs, had been a long-standing tradition in western and northern Britain, seen in animal bone assemblages (see Chapter 7) and representations on monumental stone sculpture from the ninth to eleventh centuries, for example on the cross from Margam (Glamorgan), in Wales (Arnold and Davies 2000, 191; Redknap and Lewis 2007), on the Govan sarcophagus (Strathclyde) and on a series of crosses and other sculpted monuments from Pictish Scotland, among them those from Hilton of Cadboll (Easter Ross), Aberlemno (Angus) and Meigle (Perth and Kinross) (Spearman 1994; Alcock 2003; Henderson and Henderson 2004). Given the intermarriage between the new Norman elite and the established Welsh ruling families in south Wales, during the early to mid twelfth century, maintenance of some native preferences should not surprise in the process of creating the new Marcher elite identity. Fallow deer were also reintroduced into England following the Norman Conquest but the exact chronology is unclear. Sykes has suggested that this reintroduction was transmitted via Norman Sicily, including the traditions associated with the butchering of deer body parts at the kill. This is supported by the rarity of fallow deer in France in the same period and parallel butchery patterns from Sicily (Sykes 2006, 172; Rodet-Belarbi 2009, 349). It is unclear when exactly such a reintroduction could have occurred into Anglo-Norman England. Robert Guiscard and his Normans invaded Sicily in the 1060s, but they did not conquer the entire Islamic emirate on the island until 1093 (Matthew 1992, 17–18). Nevertheless, they would probably have encountered fallow deer and their parks while only in control of parts of the island between the 1060s and 1090s. With the redating of the Anglo-Saxon pottery sequence from the East Midlands of England, it is also clear that the fallow deer from the phase previously dated to c. 1000–80 at Goltho (Lincolnshire) should be revised to between c. 1100 and 1130 (Beresford 1987; Vince and Young 2009), so a date for the introduction of fallow deer between the end of the eleventh and the early

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decades of the twelfth century seems most likely. Fallow deer were housed within enclosed hunting parks. The best-known example from the mid twelfth century is the chase at Castle Rising, with its 24-kilometre circumference, reflected too in the conspicuous consumption of the animals in dining (Jones, Reilly and Pipe 1997, 125–8; Liddiard 2000, 55). The existence of enclosed parks has also been assumed at places, such as Castle Acre, where both the parkland species of fallow and roe deer were consumed, but fallow deer predominated by the mid twelfth century (Lawrance 1982, 282–3; Liddiard 2000, 54). The widespread consumption of wildfowl at elite centres reflects another primary hunting focus towards certain species, especially large birds occupying ecological niches on the fringes of farmland and wetlands, such as cranes, herons and to a slightly lesser extent wild geese and swans. Ducks and waders were also caught and consumed, as also were partridge and species of plover; and occasionally grouse were also exploited. A range of strategies were used to capture and kill different avian prey species, from netting, to more publicly ostentatious methods, such as falconry, and sometimes use of a bow or crossbow (from the mid to late tenth century in West Francia) for killing large bird species. Cranes were an especially sought-after prey species for falconry in England, from the early decades of the eighth century onwards (see Chapter 7), and their popularity as a principal target species for large falcons continued into the eleventh century and beyond. Indeed, Henry III of England ordered 115 cranes as part of his Christmas feast in 1251 (Rackham 1986, 119); and his son Edward I (1272–1307) wrote a letter to an official of the royal household praising a falcon that had taken cranes (Prestwich 2003, 35). Their popularity as a principal target species for hunting is also reflected archaeologically (see above) and in iconography from tenth- to twelfth-century France. For example, in a manuscript illumination dating from about the 1120s from southern France (Dijon), an aristocrat is presented on horseback with falcon, above wetland, with cranes, herons and ducks. Indeed, the eleventhcentury Cotton Tiberius illumination of cranes hunted with a large falcon (Figure 25), the depictions on the Bayeux Tapestry, and the early twelfthcentury illumination from Dijon all show that it was standard practice for aristocrats to use hunting birds from horseback, not on foot. The popularity of falconry and the hunt as an elite social practice also crossed cultural and religious divides, even down to the pursuit of the same preferred target species. For example, the Islamic scholar, warrior and hunter Usama ibn Munqidh (1095–1188) witnessed hunting and falconry undertaken jointly by King Fulk of Jerusalem (formerly Fulk V, Count of Anjou) and Unur,

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Figure 25 Illumination from the Cotton Tiberius calendar, made in England during the first half of the eleventh century, showing a wealthy rider hunting cranes and other waterfowl with a falcon

the Islamic ruler of Damascus in the 1140s. Their hunting occurred during the negotiation of an alliance between the Kingdoms of Jerusalem and Damascus, against the Zengid dynasty of Aleppo and Mosul. Unur was impressed with a large hawk owned by Fulk, especially trained to take cranes and gazelles. Fulk then gave Unur the hawk as a gift (Phillips 2009, 38). From the later tenth century, the goshawk was an especially favoured hunting bird for taking large birds. Their remains have proved to be rare finds in England prior to the Norman Conquest, but bones of this large raptor were recovered from pre-Norman Norwich, which could hint at a wider use of this bird than amongst the aristocracy alone or deliberate breeding for aristocratic use by specialist falconers; the citizens of Norwich were obliged to render a goshawk to King Edward the Confessor annually (Albarella, Beech and Mulville 2009a, 185). In West Francia, they were present at the early castle sites of Andone, Pineuilh and Saint-Avit-Sénieur (Dordogne), in late tenth- to twelfth-century deposits (Rodet-Belarbi 2009, 351), and in deposits dating from between the 1120s and 1180s at the castles of Castle Rising (Jones, Reilly and Pipe 1997), Scarborough (Weinstock 2002) and Hen Domen (Browne 2000) and at the ring-work at Llantrithyd, near Cardiff (Bramwell 1977, 70–1). Sparrowhawks, peregrines and, sometimes, the hobby, are all examples of smaller falcons used for taking smaller prey species. Sparrowhawk and hobby were found at Andone; while sparrowhawk and peregrine were found at Castle Rising. Sparrowhawks and other falcons were also found at the ring-work and small manorial sites at Llantrithyd and Hatch (Hampshire), however, suggesting emulation of hunting practices down the social spectrum of rural landholders (Bramwell 1977, 70; Coy 1995, 134). In exceptional

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circumstances, sea eagles have also been recovered from excavated deposits in Britain and France, all in proximity to coasts, at Saint-Avit-Sénieur (Rodet-Belarbi 2009, 351), Lizy-sur-Ourcq (Seine-et-Marne) (Clavel and Yvinec 2010, 81) and Llantrithyd (Bramwell 1977, 70). Wildfowling using nets is also reflected by lead net weights, for example at Flixborough, but these weights can also be classified as fishing-net weights, so their presence on settlements may currently be underrecognised. The presence of goshawks, a sparrowhawk and a sea eagle and of the favoured prey species, cranes, herons, wild geese and duck species, together with a high level of red and roe deer consumption on a small ring-work settlement like Llantrithyd, suggests that this settlement could have acted as a hunting lodge for more aspiring aristocrats (Charlton, Roberts and Vale 1977, 13). By 1166, it is certain that a William de Cardiff held Llantrithyd, and the de Cardiff family were Sheriffs of Cardiff or Glamorgan from 1102, serving Robert Fitz Hamon or Fitz Haimo, Marcher Lord of Glamorgan, who had conquered the territory during the mid to late 1090s. A hunting lodge for such a rising family might seem appropriate, but at the same time a charter of 1126 suggests that the de Cardiff family had sub-let Llantrithyd to troublesome tenants by that time, who were raiding the neighbouring lands in the Vale of Glamorgan of the Abbey of St Peter’s, Gloucester; so it may be too easy an assumption to interpret the settlement as a hunting lodge of the rising Marcher aristocracy (Davies 1977, 74–5). The assemblage could instead reflect the social climbing activities of the subtenants, combining hunting with armed raiding as overt expressions of new, local lordship. The material culture of hunting, other than the remains of the animals themselves, is varied. Riding gear – horse-bits, saddle furnishings, spurs and sometimes stirrups – are ubiquitous at centres of the high aristocracy, in both West Francia and Britain, whether late tenth- to early eleventhcentury Andone (Bourgeois 2009) or early to mid twelfth-century Castle Acre. In exceptional cases, as at Andone, fragments of hunting horns, or rather horns which could have been used to muster a hunt or a military contingent for war, have also been excavated. The example from Andone is one of a number from France south of the River Loire that were made in ceramic form, during the later tenth and eleventh centuries (FourteauBardaji and Bourgeois 2009, 315). These must have supplemented the more sought-after examples made from horn and, more rarely, elephant ivory – oliphant horns. The latter intricately carved ivory horns were made from the early eleventh century in Fatimid north Africa and or Islamic Sicily, and their production continued under the Norman rulers of Sicily

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and southern Italy in the later eleventh and twelfth centuries. They appear to have been made only for the European export market, as their like is not found in Islamic contexts in Fatimid north Africa and Egypt (Robinson 2008, 286 and 290). The motifs have a combination of Byzantine and Islamic inspiration, as one might expect of eleventh-century southern Italy and Sicily. Most surviving examples of oliphant horns were gifted, as exceptional objects, to cathedrals, and are found in their treasuries in both England and France. One of the earliest examples is the ‘Horn of Ulf’ from the treasury of York Minster. It was made in the first half of the eleventh century and by the fourteenth century, if not earlier, the donation was attributed to a landowner called Ulf. Fletcher noted that a magnate called Ulf is known to have made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem in the 1060s, and speculated if this could reflect the actions of the same individual (Fletcher 2002, pl. 8). The increased levels of pilgrimage to Fatimid-held Jerusalem from the early eleventh century, certainly provide the most likely context for the influx of these horns into western Europe. Their final deposition in cathedral treasuries seems to reflect their use as exotic gifts, secondary to their principal use for war and the chase. However, bishops also hunted and went to war in the eleventh and twelfth centuries. Like riding gear and hunting horns, weapons associated with the chase on horseback (spears/lances), and the killing of driven animals on foot (bows and arrows, crossbows) were also used in warfare, and as such hunting was key training for war. Arrowheads suitable for killing animals (broad-heads) are found on many elite estate centres and castles, dating from the tenth to the twelfth centuries in England and France (Jessop 1996; Serdon with Dieudonné-Glad 2009). The tanged broad-heads and leafshaped arrowheads could equally kill an unarmoured man or horse. The heads of crossbow quarrels are also regular finds from the mid to late tenth century in France, and occasional finds from the later eleventh century onwards in England. Their elongated and pointed form, however, is better suited for the piercing of the tenth- to mid twelfth-century hauberks and jerkins made of iron discs sewn on to leather, scale, or early chain-mail (Serdon with Dieudonné-Glad 2009, 195–8). Exceptionally, at Andone, several pieces of bridge and trigger mechanisms from crossbows were recovered, made from antler, and dating from between the late tenth and early eleventh century (Bourgeois and Rodet-Belarbi 2009, 268–72). Arrowheads from tenth-century estate centres do not tend to occur in large numbers in England; for example, there were only several examples from tenth-century Flixborough–Conesby and none from Bishopstone, despite larger-scale evidence of hunting and wildfowling amongst the faunal

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remains from these sites (Dobney et al. 2007b; Ottaway 2009; Poole 2010). In contrast, they occur with greater frequency at early castle sites, such as Andone and Castle Acre (Goodall 1982, 235–6; Serdon with DieudonnéGlad 2009), and in the castle phases of transformed smaller estate centres, as at Goltho (Goodall 1987), suggesting that their greater use or deposition could relate more to military roles than hunting, in these cases. Other items uniquely made for war are much rarer in the archaeological record, due to their high value, their use as heirlooms and their long-term recyclable nature. The very fact that these items were highly valued, handed down, and used long after their dates of manufacture also has important implications for the dating of objects such as swords, helmets and chain-mail armour. Typological dating used by archaeologists, crossreferencing items from excavated contexts with images derived from manuscript illuminations or figurative sculpture, could hugely underestimate the use-lives of highly valued, conserved and repaired arms and armour. For example, the eighth-century Coppergate helmet, from York, was deliberately hidden in the remains of a shallow well with other artefacts that would date its interment to the late ninth or the tenth century, centuries after its manufacture (Tweddle 1992). It was buried next to the materially wealthy merchant–artisan tenements at Coppergate, and its owner in the tenth century is unlikely to have been of the same family or perhaps the same social status as its original owner (Loveluck 2011). The demonstration of the extended use history of the Coppergate helmet is exceptional, however. Indeed, for high-value weapons, such as swords, and armour, such as mailcoats and helmets, the archaeological record is unlikely to be as representative as textual sources, when it comes to assessing the quantity that were in circulation, between the tenth and mid twelfth centuries. Fortunately, however, aristocrats increasingly left testaments (wills) listing their swords and armour and the people or institutions who would receive them on their deaths, from the mid tenth century onwards. In other instances, as already mentioned, they left inventories of their movable possessions before embarking on potentially lethal journeys, such as pilgrimages. In some instances, there are also laws listing obligations to return valuable items, such as arms, armour and horses to rulers on the death of aristocrats, as in the Laws of King Cnut of Denmark and England (1016–35). The wills and inventories, however, are more reliable as reflections of reality, as it is always debatable how well laws were followed and enforced. In the 950s, the ‘king’s thegn’, Ælfgar, bequeathed two swords, three shields, three spears and three stallions, including two armings of gold, each worth fifty mancuses, a unit of measure suggesting derivation from

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Islamic Spain. One of the swords had been given to him by King Edmund of Wessex and England, demonstrating the personal link between such high-value weaponry and personal service in war to the king and state (Whitelock 1930, no. 2). In the will of the prince (Ætheling) Æthelstan, a son of King Æthelred the Unready, dating from 1015, multiple swords with gold and silver hilts are bequeathed to his brothers, and members of his household (Whitelock 1930, no. 20). He also gifts a short mailcoat – a byrnie – and a horse; and again items such as his decorated drinking horn and a gold armring and baldric are mentioned. The long duration of the use of swords is also suggested by the fact that he bequeathed a sword, which he believed had belonged to King Offa of Mercia, to his brother Edmund Ironside. The importance of ostentatious riding gear is also reflected in the gold-decorated saddle and bridle fittings that Queen Edith Godwinson acquired for Edward the Confessor, along with a gold- and jewel-encrusted staff (Barlow 2002, 36). In the, perhaps, more idealised Laws of King Cnut from the 1020s, mailcoats (byrnies) and helmets are more in evidence, along with the ubiquitous swords, horses, riding gear and gold, in the heriots of regional aristocrats: specifically those for earls and king’s thegns, as renders back to the king on death, in return for presumed gifts in life (Whitelock 1955). Military or personal standards of leading aristocrats were also made of silk, and sometimes embroidered with gold and jewels, as was the personal banner of Harold Godwinson, in the 1050s (Rex 2005, 77). Turning to the southern borders of West Francia, Arnau Mir de Tost possessed multiple swords, gold and silver sword pommels, eleven hauberks of mail or scale armour, two silver-decorated saddles and two silver bridle-bits, and many items of gold jewellery by the late 1060s (Bonnassie 1991b, 240–2). In the archaeological record, complete coats of mail, swords and gold were simply not thrown away in Christian contexts in Britain and West Francia, between the tenth and twelfth centuries. When swords were discarded during the ninth and tenth centuries in Britain and Ireland, it was within the context of the staged events of furnished inhumation, usually of pagan Scandinavian warriors, and of votive deposition in rivers, also probably by Scandinavians. Silver bullion and coinage were also discarded in silver hoards (not necessarily votive) across the British Isles and Continental shore of the Channel and North Sea, from northern France to the Netherlands, between the mid ninth and early tenth centuries (see Chapter 9). Yet gold was almost absent from the hoards, despite it figuring conspicuously in testaments during the tenth and eleventh centuries. This suggests differential choice concerning what to bury and

The rural world, AD 900–1150: aristocratic lifestyles

different purposes for silver (the principal exchange medium) compared to gold (used for display objects, gifts and the purchase of land). Surviving helmets and mailcoats from the later tenth to mid twelfth centuries have tended to survive in cathedral treasuries, as they were sometimes associated with warrior saints. The relics of Wenceslas, King of Bohemia, were conserved in such as manner. He was associated with the conversion of his kingdom to Christianity in the later tenth and early eleventh century. A spangehelm-type helmet, with nasal guard, and a chain-mail hauberk dating from the late tenth century are attributed as his armour (Merhautová 2000, 527–8). Another knee-length mailcoat, with short sleeves, is preserved in the museum of the Armenian Patriarch in Jerusalem, probably dating from the early twelfth century; and another example is conserved in the convent of St Anne in Jerusalem (Boas 1999, 170–2). Archaeologically, only fragments of chain-mail and scale armour and helmets survive from the tenth to twelfth centuries, in the British Isles and West Francia. Hence, researchers are forced to rely mostly on representations of arms and armour from pictorial and iconographic sources, such as monumental sculpture on buildings and crosses, and upon manuscript illumination and tapestry evidence, such as the Bayeux Tapestry. What the fragmentary archaeological evidence does suggest, however, is that coats of scale armour, or small metal discs or plates sewn onto leather, were far more common than chain-mail, and certainly cheaper to manufacture (Ziolkowski 2008, 206). Discs from the former types of hauberk have been found from ninth- or tenth-century contexts in the château at Blois, from Andone, dating from c. 970–1030, from Charavines–Colletière (Dauphiné), dating from c. 1000–30 and from Montbaron (Indre), in later twelfth- or early thirteenth-century deposits, among other sites (Querrien with Blanchard 2004, 114–15; Bourgeois 2009, 200–1), while other items of armour, such as a greave, to protect the lower leg of a rider, has been excavated at Distré, dating from the ninth or tenth century (Gentili and Valais 2007). The waging of war between the tenth and the mid twelfth centuries changed over the centuries, although at all times the raid on horseback by small groups of warriors, or the chevauchée, was the most frequent form of armed violence, and the most common preamble to more concerted military campaigns (Crouch 2005b). It was also the least easy to defend against. The West Saxon Kings of England developed a sophisticated system of beacons, warning of seaborne and land-based raiders, as well as the system of fortified central places or burhs (see Chapter 12) for every shire territory of England. When the West Saxon Kings mounted offensive

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campaigns in central and northern Britain between the 930s and 950s, their success was usually judged by victory in pitched battle. Similarly, while fighting the invading Danish royal army of Swein Forkbeard and Cnut between the 990s and 1016, campaigns of raiding also tended to culminate in pitched battles. There are few recorded sieges of burghal fortified centres, the Danish attack on London being a notable exception. Yet from the later tenth century in West Francia and from the later eleventh century in Britain, warfare was characterised far more by raiding, followed by sieges, rather than pitched battles. Fulk Nerra only fought in two pitched battles during his career, despite a lifetime of warfare (Bachrach 1993); and William the Conqueror also fought few major battles, compared to sieges: namely Val-ès-Dunes, Hastings, Dol and Gerberoi, and the latter two engagements occurred during sieges (Bates 2001). By the late eleventh century, however, warfare had become such a marker of identity for aristocrats and the wider landed elite that public spectacles of war-games augmented hunting as training for war, in the form of ‘tournaments’. In his study of the tournament, Crouch distinguished, as did medieval forebears, between individual combat by jousting and subsequent use of the sword or other hand-held weapons and the ‘mêlée tournament’ which could comprise hundreds of mounted warriors hurtling across a landscape (Crouch 2005b, 1–2). Such war-games to display individual martial prowess and that of the military households of rulers seem to have begun in the later eleventh century, in Hainault or Flanders, and they soon spread across West Francia and into England. Ritualised single combats, not intentionally to the death, would also take place during arranged truces at sieges. Indeed, Count Baldwin VII of Flanders was killed in such a duel by an adversary from the army of Henry I of England at the siege of Eu, in Normandy, in 1119. Eventually, however, mêlée tournaments were regarded as destructive to public order, and also a waste of trained soldiers, so that kings such as Louis VI of France (1108–37) and Henry II of England (1154–89) took great measures to ban tournaments. There were none in England between 1154 and 1194 (Crouch 2005b, 9). The final element in the public persona of regional and royal aristocrats of tenth- to twelfth-century Britain and West Francia was public religious veneration through several means; firstly, by making large gifts to existing ecclesiastical institutions; secondly, by foundation of new monasteries and priories to act as centres of religious support and prayer, and often mausolea for new ruling dynasties; and thirdly, through pilgrimage to key Christian cult centres, both in western Europe, and increasingly from the

The rural world, AD 900–1150: aristocratic lifestyles

tenth and early eleventh century, to Rome and Jerusalem. This genuine public religiosity was undoubtedly related to the religious mentality and world-view of the aristocracies of the day, characterised by religious reform and renewed allegiance to the Benedictine rule, epitomised by the Cluniac order in the tenth and eleventh centuries and the Cistercians in the twelfth century. At the same time, however, many of the regional rulers of northwest Europe were newly arrived in their leading positions, having risen from the lower aristocracies, such as the Godwinsons in England. Some also aspired to represent their power as God-given in their own territories, even though they were not kings; for example, the Dukes of Normandy, the Counts of Anjou, the Counts of Flanders and the Dukes of Aquitaine. Other long-standing comital families simply wanted to retain their roles in the face of predatory regional rulers seeking to increase their hegemonies. In these circumstances, making gifts to existing religious centres, becoming the guardian of particular monasteries holding saintly relics, founding new monasteries, loyal to their order and founders rather than bishops, and public acts of piety and confirmation of divine support through pilgrimage were all strategies for the maintenance and legitimisation of sometimes newly won social positions. Examples of the foundation of new monasteries, following renewed allegiance to a stricter version of the Benedictine rule, can be cited at Cluny in the Mâconnais in Burgundy, where Duke William IV ‘the Pious’ of Aquitaine gave one of his estate centres and its lands for the foundation of the abbey in 909–10. Following its foundation, William put the monastery under the direct protection of the papacy. In England, existing major monastic communities at Glastonbury (Somerset) and that attached to the New Minster at Winchester were reformed to follow the Benedictine rule more strictly, during the 950s and 960s, under the influence of Dunstan, later Archbishop of Canterbury. The reforms were supported especially by Earldorman Æthelstan ‘Half-King’ of Mercia and East Anglia at Glastonbury, and Edgar, the West Saxon King of England (959–75) at the New Minster respectively (Swanton 1996, 116–18; Higham 1997, 4). Edward the Confessor of England (1042–65), the last of the West Saxon Kings, rebuilt and refounded the abbey at Westminster, consecrated on 28 December 1065. It had already been a royal mausoleum, housing the remains of Danish King Harold I of England, the son of Cnut the Great, and Edward was subsequently buried there, his grave becoming an object of pilgrimage after his beatification. Earl Harold Godwinson and his wife Edith ‘Swan-neck’ also refounded the abbey of Holy Cross, at Waltham (Essex) before 1060, rebuilding the church with a marble opus sectile floor,

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and lavishing the community of canons with gifts of gospel books, gold and silver reliquaries with relics collected from the Continent, silk vestments embroidered with gold and pearls, internal furnishings and hangings, and gold and silver liturgical sets and vases (Barlow 2002, 78–9; Rex 2005, 77; Fleming 2007). The abbey of Holy Cross became Harold’s mausoleum, and the community continued offering prayers for his soul and promoted his memorialisation through the writing of the Waltham Chronicle, before Henry II expelled the canons and replaced them with an Augustinian foundation in the mid twelfth century (Rex 2005, 255–6). Similarly, Fulk Nerra, Count of Anjou, founded and built the Benedictine abbey at Beaulieu-les-Loches (Indre-et-Loire) to house his mortal remains and for his soul, just as different Norman dukes built priories at Fécamp and Caen to house their remains and to pray for their souls and memories (see Chapter 10). While Henry II and Eleanor of Aquitaine were to endow and sponsor the existing male and female communities at Fontevraud (Maine-et-Loire), founded in 1101, which became the early Plantagenet family mausoleum, following the burial of Henry II there in 1189 and most of Richard I the Lionheart in 1199 (Bienvenu and Prigent 1992, 15–17; Fagnen 1992). Acting as a benefactor and protector to important religious communities as a strategy for support can be seen most overtly in the huge gifts and annual payments of gold and silver by the Kings of León–Castile, and also the Kings of Navarre, to the monastery at Cluny, especially from 1077 (Vingtain 2003, 67). The Counts of Toulouse acted as similar benefactors to the abbey of St Foy at Conques; while Duke William V ‘the Great’ of Aquitaine secured the relic of the head of John the Baptist for the abbey of Saint-Jean-d’Angély (Charente–Maritime), and he was also the protector of the relics of St Martial at Limoges (Duby 1991, 29). In England, Tostig Godwinson was also a benefactor and the protector of the relics and community of St Cuthbert at Durham while he was Earl of Northumbria in the 1050s–1060s (Barlow 2002). Relics were also gifted between rulers. For example, Byzantine emperors gave gold reliquaries to King Edward the Confessor of England and to the Salian Emperor, Henry IV (Harris 2003, 27). And regional rulers and kings also gifted infrastructure for major pilgrimage routes. The Kings of León–Castile and Navarre, in particular, gifted bridges on the roads to Santiago de Compostela, and also founded Cluniac priories to lodge pilgrims. Acts of public devotion through pilgrimage, and as a consequence evidence of divine support of social position, also increased significantly from the later tenth century. Fulk Nerra, Count of Anjou, made several pilgrimages to both Rome and Jerusalem, between 1003 and 1039 (Bachrach 1993, 36–7); Duke William V of Aquitaine went to Rome and

The rural world, AD 900–1150: aristocratic lifestyles

Santiago de Compostela in the early eleventh century; and Cnut, King of Denmark and England, made a pilgrimage to Rome in 1027. As a consequence of the treaty between the Byzantines and Fatimids, signed in 1027, the number of regional rulers and members of the aristocracy making the pilgrimage to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre increased significantly (Harris 2003, 24–5), including Ulfric, Bishop of Orléans in the late 1020s, the Count of Angoulême in the 1020s, Robert, Duke of Normandy in the 1030s, Swein Godwinson in 1052 and Ealdred, Bishop of Worcester, in 1058 (Scarfe Beckett 2003, 53). The same Ealdred went to Rome to collect his pallium as Archbishop of York in 1061, accompanied by the Earls Tostig and Gyrth Godwinson. Harold Godwinson may also have made a pilgrimage to Rome in 1056. Similarly, aristocrats below comital level increasingly made the major pilgrimages to Rome and Jerusalem, including the Yorkshire thegns Ulf and Gospatric, to Jerusalem and Rome respectively (Fletcher 2002; Barlow 2002).

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12 The rural world, AD 900–1150: social mobility,

landscape reorganisation and colonisation

Local notables and nucleated settlements: from free proprietors to local lords, AD 900–1050

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In the same centuries as the regional rulers of West Francia were consolidating new positions of authority referencing Roman precedent, and the West Saxon dynasty was creating the imperial construct that was the kingdom of England, there were profound changes in the rural world, driven by local agencies as much as by state builders. Key to the changes of this period was the more overt manifestation and growth of the ‘middling’ ranks of society: local notables and wealthy peasant families, whose existence has already been observed in the archaeological and textual sources of the seventh to ninth centuries (see Chapters 2, 3 and 4). They tried to break away from the social apex of the peasantry, and transformed themselves into local lords over the very people from whom they had recently separated themselves. Hence, we see a situation where secondary elites of local notables chose to emulate certain lifestyles of the high aristocracy, without having the same quantity or quality of resources to support such lifestyles. Linked to these social dynamics at local and regional levels were transformations in settlement character and the way that the rural landscape was organised and managed in different regions. The tenth and eleventh centuries saw the foundation of large nucleated ‘village‘ settlements in the landscape of central England, running in a north-to-south belt from Dorset, through Wiltshire, Somerset and the West and East Midlands to Yorkshire and Northumberland (Dyer 2002, 20). In other parts of Britain, there were also smaller-scale nucleations amidst more dispersed settlement patterns. In northern France and Flanders, settlement continuities, transformations and landscape organisation also took place during the course of the tenth and eleventh centuries, with greater settlement abandonment and reorganisation during the eleventh century than the tenth. In both Britain and West Francia, however, the rural landscapes and settlement patterns continued to be dynamic, with new settlement foundations, desertions and nucleations into the later twelfth and early thirteenth centuries, depending on local circumstances.

The rural world, AD 900–1150: social mobility

This was also the era of the reorganisation and colonisation of landscapes that had previously been sparsely populated, namely coastal wetland margins, uplands and forests. The impetus to transform these landscapes and to create new farming territories within them was not only provided by the higher secular and ecclesiastical aristocracies, but equally by the aspirations for social advancement on the part of new local lords and wealthy free peasant proprietors, in conjunction with population pressure from demographic growth (Bartlett 1993; Dyer 2002). The emergence or the more definitive expression of existing local elites archaeologically across the whole spectrum of rural landscapes of northwest Europe from the tenth century seems to have been promoted by the disruption of large estates, or networks of estates, in both West Francia and England. Catalysts for the disruption of estates were varied: from civil wars in England and Francia, to Scandinavian raiding, conquest and settlement (sometimes by agreement), and also Arab or Andalucian raiding and short-term settlement in southern France, until the later tenth century. In some cases holders of estate centres were replaced and estates divided, creating a new tier of smaller landowners. In others, estates survived as territories but without residence or periodic visits of tenurial masters. In the latter instances, the farming settlement infrastructures were not affected, and absence of resident landlords may have promoted the emergence of new wealthier peasant families, able to benefit from permanent residence within their farming territories by selling of surpluses with minimal or no oversight from officials acting for distant landowners. Two seminal examples of such changes, and the advancement in wealth and status of farming households, have been excavated in England and France. In both instances, that advancement occurred when an estate centre was abandoned during the ninth century. The previously discussed courtyard complex of the estate centre at Serris ‘Les Ruelles’ (Seine-et-Marne) was abandoned at the end of the ninth century. The farms that had existed from the late sixth or early seventh century in a loose collection sited along tracks emanating from the former centre continued to be occupied without any visible change in structural character or location until the mid eleventh century. For much of the tenth century, there was no visible sign of any ruling influence on the various farming families. There were signs of dramatic increases in wealth for one of the farming families, however, in the northeast farming settlement. The principal wooden residential building appears to have had window glass associated with it, and wild animal species also reflected the pastime of hunting, in addition to agriculture (Gentili 2001, 29). The church and

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cemetery focus established in the seventh century continued to be used by all the local families. By the end of the tenth century, however, a new archaeological ‘footprint’ of lordship was established from outside the settlement. A large post-built timber hall, smaller residential building and other ancillary structures were built next to the cemetery and church, largely enclosed by a double ditch and palisade. A wooden tower, protected by an encircling ditch was constructed to the south of the new lordly residence (see Figure 7, Chapter 6). The wealthy farmsteads of the tenth century continued to be occupied, until both the elite residence and farmsteads were abandoned in the mid eleventh century, within the context of reclamation and the carving out of new settlements and estates from the forest of Ferrières, immediately to the south. Only a moated site remained at Serris (Gentili 2001, 28–9). At Higham Ferrers (Northamptonshire), the estate centre of the later seventh and eighth centuries was demolished at the beginning of the ninth (Hardy, Charles and Williams 2007, 206). Subsequently, following a suggested hiatus in occupation, groups of farmsteads developed along a north–south trackway during the later ninth or early tenth century. A silver penny of the St Edmund memorial issue, struck in Norfolk by its new Scandinavian rulers, and a piece of copper alloy with Scandinavianinfluenced interlace decoration were used by the excavators to suggest a potential Scandinavian origin for the new farmers, carving out new small estates for themselves in the Danelaw (Hardy, Charles and Williams 2007, 211). It is unknown whether these settlers were free landowners or tenants. By 1066, the landholding of Higham Ferrers comprised one manorial estate held by Gytha, Countess of Hereford, which was in turn part of a network of manorial estates, including some at Raunds (Northamptonshire) (see below). The dynamic transformations of settlement character, status and social composition seen at Serris and Higham Ferrers are mirrored on other pre-existing settlements between the later ninth and eleventh centuries in England and West Francia, as they were at other settlements in earlier centuries (see Chapter 7). They occurred and are detectable archaeologically at Flixborough (Lincolnshire), Kirkdale (North Yorkshire) and Eynsham (Oxfordshire) in England and at Distré (Maine-et-Loire) and Hamage (Nord) in France, among others. The ninthcentury monastic or monastic-owned sites at Flixborough, Kirkdale and Hamage became secular estate centres between the tenth and eleventh centuries (Louis 1997; Rahtz and Watts 1998; Loveluck 2007a), whereas the estate centres at Distré became a priory of the abbey of Saint-Florentde-Saumur, between 1030 and 1040 (Pelaprat 1992, 56). The probable

The rural world, AD 900–1150: social mobility

minster church and community of canons at a royal estate centre at Eynsham was refounded as a reformed Benedictine monastery by Ælfric in 1005 (Dodd and Hardy 2003, 475). The example of Flixborough provides a clear picture of the emergence of a rural manorial centre. In the late ninth century, the settlement was destroyed, or cleared by fire, and during the early decades of the tenth century it was totally replanned, with the appearance of the largest buildings in its occupational history, up to 20 m in length. The settlement also moved gradually eastwards during the course of the tenth century, a matter of 30 m, to a limestone escarpment to the east, on which the masonry remains of a twelfth-century stone church still stand, together with earthworks of the deserted medieval settlement of Conesby. It is possible that the name Conesby, Kuningrs-by, meaning ‘king’s settlement’ in Old Danish, could have been associated with the settlement in the tenth century, during its slow movement eastwards. By the mid eleventh century, however, the Domesday Book noted that in 1066 the settlement was the principal manorial centre of a thegn of regional importance called Fulcric (Foster and Longley 1924, 147–8; Loveluck 2007a, 80–1). Alongside the large buildings and the place-name, the lifestyle of conspicuous consumption of cattle and wild species (including cranes and dolphins) returned during the tenth century. At the same time, however, luxury feasting kits in the form of glass vessels did not arrive at Flixborough–Conesby, nor did imported pottery, nor coinage. Specialist craft-working was also much less diverse, limited to ironworking, domestic textile manufacture and perhaps boat-building. These trends seem to reflect a return to a secular aristocratic lifestyle for the settlement of Flixborough–Conesby, but that lifestyle was expressed in conspicuous consumption of the estate’s territory alone. Imported luxury commodities on either side of the Humber estuary in northern England seem to have stayed predominantly in the emerging Anglo-Scandinavian towns of the tenth to eleventh century. The towns were the centres from which territories were governed, and principal Anglo-Scandinavian elites seem to have been based primarily in towns. Hence, the urban environment was the principal theatre for the display of exotic luxuries, the key location for the activities of merchants provisioning elite tastes, and the main source of patronage for specialist artisans (see Chapter 13). What we see in the remains of Flixborough–Conesby is the emergence and definition of the secular elite lifestyle of the ‘countryside’, as opposed to that of the town. The towns were also increasingly acting as the centres from which the services of specialist artisans could be procured, explaining the

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relative absence of specialist artisans at tenth-century Flixborough– Conesby. Very close similarities to this country-based local elite lifestyle can also be seen at other tenth- and eleventh-century settlements classified as ‘manorial’ centres across England.1 Their assemblages of artefacts and faunal remains reflect a duality of occupations. Firstly, agriculture and animal husbandry, and its support by minimal craft-working: iron-smithing, woodworking and leatherworking, within the territory of the manorial estate. Cattle predominated amongst the domesticated species, followed by sheep and then pigs. Agricultural tools such as ploughshares are regularly encountered. Some were buried in pits, like the earlier example from Flixborough, and other examples in France and the Netherlands (see Chapter 3). In other cases, they have been found within hoards of woodworking and agricultural tools buried within lead tanks, sometimes including weapons and bells, in eastern and southern England (Loveluck 2007a; Cowgill 2009c; Ottaway 2009c; Thomas and Ottaway 2010). These were quite clearly intentional depositions, and possibly witnessed staged events in some instances. The example from Bishopstone (Sussex) has been interpreted as a possible closure deposit related to a cellared building (Thomas 2010, 105). The interpretation of these intentional deposits must also be contextualised, however, by the fact that the same artefacts are also deposited in reworked refuse deposits, in both England and West Francia, although not always with exactly the same artefactual associations. The second group of recurrent activities reflected comprise hunting and/or warfare. Weapons are regular finds, including arrowheads, javelin and spearheads; and riding gear is also ubiquitous, in the form of bridle fittings and sometimes spurs. Red and roe deer and other wild species are also usually present among the animal bones, along with hare and wild bird species. As at Flixborough, the extent of the networks of these settlements tended to be local or regional. In most cases, imported material from Continental Europe is very limited in rural contexts, with the exception of lava querns from the Rhineland and very occasional sherds of imported pottery from northern France or the Rhineland.

1

For example, at Goltho (Lincolnshire) (Beresford 1987); Thwing (East Yorkshire) (Manby forthcoming); Wharram Percy (North Yorkshire) (Stamper and Croft 2000); Faccombe Netherton (Hampshire) (Fairbrother 1990); Portchester Castle (Hampshire) (Cunliffe 1976); Hatch (Hampshire) (Fasham and Keevill with Coe 1995); Trowbridge (Wiltshire) (Graham and Davies 1993); Raunds–Furnells and Raunds–West Cotton (Northamptonshire) (Audouy and Chapman 2009; Chapman 2010); Middle Harling (Norfolk) (Rogerson 1995); Springfield Lyons (Essex) (Tyler and Major 2005); and Bishopstone (Sussex) (Thomas 2010).

The rural world, AD 900–1150: social mobility

The emergence of these smaller rural estate centres reflects the wider emergence of local notables into the archaeological record during the tenth and eleventh centuries. By the eleventh century, local lords known as ‘ordinary thegns’ were regarded as the lowest rung of the aristocracy in England. Many manors were also owned by higher aristocrats who held lands on a regional and supra-regional basis. The latter had their favoured centres that they frequented most regularly. Their less-visited holdings were managed by their reeves, who were responsible for collecting renders and cash rents. For example, Bishopstone was probably a possession of the Bishops of Selsey, although its buildings and courtyard plan could reflect the requirements and lifestyle of a reeve as much as a bishop (Thomas 2010, 24 and 206). The tendency among archaeologists in Britain has been to label all secular rural estate centres of the tenth and eleventh centuries as ‘manorial’ centres, and to consider them collectively as ‘high-status’ settlement foci. Yet the use of this uniform terminology masks a reality of rural centres linked to agricultural territories of different sizes, and to individuals of different social and legal status, with different levels of power and obligation to the late Anglo-Saxon state. For example, not all the owners of settlements that have been labelled as manorial centres need have been local lords or thegns. The material difference in wealth and size between the local centre of a thegn, and the settlement of a wealthy sokeman or freeman, with his own subordinate agricultural workers, may have been negligible. Yet sokemen and others described as freemen were not regarded as aristocrats, despite potentially leading roles at the level of the locality. There were also bigger manors and smaller manors. The tenth- and eleventh-century manorial estates at Springfield Lyons (Essex) and Hatch (Hampshire) were only of two hides and one hide respectively (Figure 26) (Fasham and Keevill with Coe 1995, 149; Major and Ryan 2005, 200). Many of the latter small manors were owned by freemen in parts of eastern England, such as Norfolk. For example, within the loosely nucleated village settlement at Barton Bendish (Norfolk), there were five manorial centres and at least two manorial churches by 1066; and all five of those manors were owned by freemen and a freewoman in the reign of Edward the Confessor, not by local thegns (see Figure 29 below) (Rogerson and Davison 1997, 22–5). Most of the settlements described as manorial centres possessed large rectangular buildings, including a principal residential building or hall range, normally between 15 and 20 m in length, alongside ancillary structures, and sometimes with a wooden or stone church (Figure 27). At a significant number of these centres, the buildings were also organised spatially around a central courtyard-like space, between 900 and 1050, as

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Figure 27 Comparative plans of settlement cores, with hall ranges and courtyard arrangements, interpreted as manorial estate centres: (a) and (b) Raunds–West Cotton, Northamptonshire, c. 950 and c. 1100; (c) and (d) Goltho, Lincolnshire, c. 950 and c. 1100

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at Bishopstone, Raunds–West Cotton, Raunds–Furnells and Springfield Lyons. Watermills linked to manors were also relatively widespread. Most are known only from Domesday evidence: for example, the mills associated with Flixborough–Conesby were situated beyond the manorial centre on the River Trent, below the settlement (Loveluck 2007a, 86). In rarer instances, as at Raunds–West Cotton, they have been found at the manorial centre itself (Chapman 2010). Some also possessed enclosures comprising a combination of bank, ditch and palisade, usually encompassing the chief residential or courtyard focus of the settlement. The enclosures were often more substantial than those that had structured settlement space between the seventh and ninth centuries. The ditches of the enclosure at Thwing were enlarged and it also included a wooden tower (Manby forthcoming). A square tower, built in masonry, was also present at Portchester Castle from the end of the tenth century, linked to one of the three manors at Portchester. Its residential core was not enclosed, as the settlement was already housed within the standing walled circuit of a fourth-century, Roman ‘Saxon shore’ fort (Cunliffe 1976). The seventhto ninth-century settlement at Trowbridge was also reorganised, with a circular enclosure around the principal residential focus, adjacent to a church, during the later tenth century or eleventh century (Graham and Davies 1993, 34–7). The core buildings of the centres at Raunds–West Cotton and Raunds–Furnells were similarly enclosed with banks and ditches (Audouy and Chapman 2009, 74–88; Chapman 2010, 34–41). There are also examples of major hall and courtyard complexes which were not enclosed, however, as at Flixborough–Conesby and North Elmham (Norfolk), in their tenth- to eleventh-century phases (Wade-Martins 1980; Loveluck 2007a). It is the continuity of the settlement sequences, and also continuity of aspects of the morphology and use of space at some sites, such as Thwing, that suggest that in many cases the existing middle-ranking, free proprietor households probably formed the majority of the freemen/sokemen and local lords in England by the tenth century, accompanied by Scandinavian incomers in the late ninth and early eleventh centuries. The suggested evolution of a mid to late ninth-century enclosed farming complex to become a manor by the mid tenth century at Raunds–Furnells provides an example of this social mobility in the Danelaw (Figure 28) (Audouy and Chapman 2009, 66–77). These manorial centres normally existed within the built and social fabric of larger settlements and field systems, and there were distinctive regional trends in settlement and landscape form. There was a distinct trend in a north-to-south territory of central England,

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extending from Northumberland to Dorset, for nucleated villages to develop, associated with open-field systems, so-called ‘champion’ landscapes. In their developed form, in the English Midlands, these nucleated villages developed as row-settlements, often along trackways, or as settlements around a focal space, or ‘green’, and often contained one manorial centre with a church. Many of the settlements had existed in different forms prior to the ninth century, but from the later part of that century or the tenth century, the planned villages developed associated with large open fields divided into strips for cultivation. Williamson points out that the earliest textual evidence for the management of these fields comes from the thirteenth century, when land of different quality was shared out among the village populations, but archaeological evidence suggests such nucleation and the laying out of open fields in the tenth century, at the latest, as at Raunds–Furnells (Williamson 2003, 89–90; Audouy and Chapman 2009, 53). A similar settlement nucleation, and reorganisation of previous ‘infield/outfield’ cultivation and pasture, is also suggested at Shapwick (Somerset), between the tenth and eleventh centuries. At Shapwick, however, a likely manorial centre and church lay beyond the nucleated settlement (Gerrard with Hall 2007, 974–7). In exceptional instances (currently), there are also hints, as in the Bourn valley (Cambridgeshire), that earlier open-type field systems existed in certain regions already, sometime between c. 700 and 850, prior to evolution into classic open-field systems in the later ninth or tenth century (Oosthuizen 2005, 189–91). The agency behind such a reorganisation of settlement and landscape has been much debated. Some have asserted that only direction through lordship could have produced such organisation, but Lewis, Mitchell-Fox, Dyer and others have all observed that areas of eleventh-century central England, occupied largely by sokemen, have produced the same nucleated villages and open fields (Lewis, Mitchell-Fox and Dyer 2001, 177–9; Rippon 2008, 20–1). In other regions, smaller manors owned by freemen coalesced with tied-peasant or sokemen holdings to produce loosely organised villages, often with more than one church, as at Barton Bendish in Norfolk (Figure 29). Even in regions prone to settlement nucleation there were always exceptions. The manorial centre at Raunds–West Cotton did not have holdings of farming families, of either free or unfree status, attached to it (Chapman 2010). Yet at nearby Raunds–Furnells, the manorial settlement and church existed within a village settlement, parts of which had been occupied during the seventh to ninth centuries (Audouy and Chapman 2009, 28–38). The churchyard at Furnells acted as the

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Figure 29 Plan of the village of Barton Bendish, Norfolk, showing churches founded by freemen before 1066, and the distribution of tenth- to eleventh-century archaeological evidence

manorial and village burial focus and it may also have acted in the same capacity for West Cotton, which did not possess a church or burial focus (Boddington 1996, 67). The church was built in limestone and both it and the churchyard space were a secondary addition to the standing buildings at the manorial core. Status differences are also marked by stone gravemarkers and covers for the higher-status members of the village

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community. There was also at least one leper amongst those buried, showing an inclusion in death that would not be granted later in the Middle Ages (Boddington 1996, 69). While the actors behind the building of the church at Raunds–Furnells may have been from a thegnal family, those on settlements made up predominantly of sokemen were probably communal enterprises. In a series of village settlements in Lincolnshire, focussed on ‘greens’, churches were built on these communal spaces. The social fabric of the latter settlements comprised mainly sokemen during the eleventh century, suggesting that these free communities were responsible for church foundation, even if manorial centres were subsequently sited on greens and churches rebuilt after the Norman Conquest (Stocker and Everson 2006, 66–7). On the Continent, parallel trends in settlement organisation and lifestyles to those found among manorial centres and villages in England can also be cited from existing settlements that were transformed in the tenth and eleventh centuries, and on newly founded settlement forms. At existing estate centres and nucleated settlements, such as Villiers-leSec (Val-d’Oise) and Distré ‘Les Murailles’ (Maine-et-Loire) differentiation of rank within the settlement populations is marked for the first time by building size and settlement morphology, during the tenth century. At both settlements, one residential building was larger than all the others, associated with ancillary buildings. Even though significant differences in lifestyles between these focal building complexes and other residential plots are not clearly detectable, the new morphological differentiation within the settlements suggests the physical marking out of leading families. In the case of Villiers-le-Sec, the settlement had been the centre of an estate owned by the abbey of Saint-Denis since the seventh century, and there was no change of ownership. The emergence of the focal building clusters linked to a large residential building, whether with post-hole or gravel sill foundations, can be viewed as the demonstrable manifestation of the social advancement in the status of families who acted as the managing agents of estates. Alternatively, they could reflect the same families of officials, who had become formal subtenants of larger landowners, who could keep more of the wealth of the estates for themselves. Unlike at Serris, at neither Villiers-le-Sec nor Distré did the settlements gain an element that can be described as a castle or a tower. This is despite the fact that weapons, armour, riding gear and glass vessels, distributed across the residential buildings at Distré, indicate a military role and significant social status for the men of the settlement, alongside the practice of arable agriculture (Gentili and Valais 2007).

The rural world, AD 900–1150: social mobility

The settlement of ‘Les Murailles’ at Distré was probably one of the three estate centres in the locality that subsequently became a priory of SaintFlorent-de-Saumur between 1030 and 1040 (Pelaprat 1992; Zadora-Rio 2003, 8). With this transformation in the mid eleventh century, the settlement shifted to a new site focussed on a stone church. In other cases too, long-standing nucleated settlements such as Tournedos-sur-Seine ‘Portejoie’ (Eure) and Saleux ‘Les Coutures’ (Somme) were abandoned at the end of the tenth century and during the course of the eleventh century respectively (Carré 1988, 50; Catteddu 2003, 23). The Serris settlement was also largely abandoned by the mid eleventh century. At ‘Portejoie’, however, the parish church and cemetery continued to be used by the community which had moved to the vicinity of a new castle site. The church and cemetery continued in use until the fourteenth century (Carré 1996). At Saleux, the entire settlement was abandoned, including the parish church and cemetery. These instances of settlement abandonment and shift in northern France were taking place at least a century later than equivalent settlement reorganisation and nucleation in England. However, the nucleation and settlement continuity seen in much of the central village belt of England, between the tenth and twelfth centuries, is not seen in all English regions (Rippon 2008). The small manorial settlement at Springfield Lyons was abandoned in the later twelfth century, amidst a gradual nucleation process (Major and Ryan 2005, 202); and similar coalescence of hamlets and small nucleated settlements is also seen in East Anglia, between the eleventh and thirteenth centuries, as in the case of the Harlings (Norfolk) (Rogerson 1995, 4). Key to the transformations of the later tenth and eleventh centuries in West Francia was the development of fortified estate centres, namely castles, as seen in the case of Serris above, and the castles discussed in Chapter 10. This change of settlement form to one emphasising defence and social display related to war is also reflected on the settlements of those free proprietors or client–retainers, who attempted to mark their affiliation with regional magnates, rather than with their free proprietor or tied-peasant colleagues. These aspirant members of the elite created small fortified settlements in promontory locations, or based around raised mottes or ring-works (see Figure 30) (Collardelle and Verdel 2004). Examples of the latter include Charavines–Colletière (Dauphiné) on Lake Paladru (Collardelle and Verdel 1993a, 1993b); the moated settlement of ‘Haus Meer’ (Kreis Neuss) in the Rhineland (Janssen and Janssen 1999); the double-ring-work settlement at Montbaron (Indre) in the Loire valley (Querrien with Blanchard 2004); and the early castle sites of Sugny (Ardenne, Belgium) (Matthys 1991; Ervynck 1992) and

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The rural world, AD 900–1150: social mobility

Montcy-Notre-Dame ‘Le Château des Fées’ (Ardenne, France) (Matthys 1991, 207–22). All these settlements show signs of three social practices: hunting of wild animals for dietary supplement and social display, the ability to move about the landscape quickly on horseback, and the bearing of arms. Other similarities with the culture of cuisine and consumption of the comital landed aristocracy are also seen in the dominance of pigs as the main domesticated animal consumed at Sugny, although the woodlands of the Ardenne were an ideal environment for pig husbandry, and should not necessarily be seen as an aspiration of status. At the fortified farms at Charavines–Colletière, on the shore of Lake Paladru, and the moated settlement at ‘Haus Meer’, red deer, roe deer, wild boar and hare were hunted (Rodet-Belarbi 2009, 349; Reichstein 1999, 236). Herons, ducks and partridges were also taken at Charavines by netting, falconry or crossbow (Rodet-Belarbi 2009, 350), while ducks, wild geese, waders and a cormorant were hunted at ‘Haus Meer’ (Reichstein 1999, 237). The concentrated nature of the residential and ancillary buildings at Charavines and ‘Haus Meer’, together with waterlogged preservation conditions and the use of the adjacent lakeside and moat for refuse disposal, also resulted in the recovery of large assemblages of artefacts. They included weapons, such as spears, crossbow bolts, arrowheads and axes; armour, in the form of pieces of scale armour from Charavines and a fragment of chain-mail from ‘Haus Meer’, and shield fittings. There was also abundant riding gear, in the form of bridle fittings, wooden saddle fittings from Charavines, and multiple spurs. The settlement at Charavines was occupied from c. 1000 to 1040 (Collardelle and Verdel 1993b); and the moated site at ‘Haus Meer’ was occupied from c. 1000 until the mid thirteenth century. By the later twelfth century, the moated site had been encased in a small motte (Janssen and Janssen 1999, 19). There is also evidence for leisure activities in addition to hunting at Charavines, including chessmen, counters for merrels or tables and also dice. With the exception of Montbaron, none of the above settlements was located on good agricultural land, and their territories were probably small. The Charavines–Colletière and ‘Haus Meer’ settlements were located in Alpine foothill and marshland terrain respectively, and the Sugny and Montcy castle sites are in the Ardenne forests. Other than the lifestyles portrayed, none can be regarded as the reflection of large aristocratic estate centres, and a more fitting conclusion is that the latter settlements reflect the emergence of the milites class from the ranks of the richer free peasantry, what Collardelle and Verdel have called ‘chevaliers–paysans’ (Collardelle and Verdel 1993b). Their military role rather than landed

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possessions marked them as associates of the ruling elites in tenth- and eleventh-century northwest Europe. The hunt and the feast were part of that military package and reflected their social roles and aspirations as new small landowners and/or armed retainers of higher aristocrats. Some authors see these settlements and their households as those of aristocrats (Querrien with Blanchard 2004; Bourgeois 2009). Yet, they are perhaps better viewed as ‘wealthy armed peasants on horseback’ (Bisson 2009, 49). They were the apex of the peasantry in West Francia, akin to the sokemen and freemen of England. Their paradox is that in their desire to differentiate themselves from the wider peasantry, they were the social group who probably played the leading role in imposing new direct requisitions and obligations (consuetudines) on the agricultural populations, both for themselves and on behalf of comital and royal aristocracies. The presence of many of these settlements in marginal agricultural landscapes reflects the desire to establish lordship in new territories and, probably, population pressure on optimum agricultural land.

Colonisation by conquest and by creating new landscapes, AD 950–1150 This move to the margins was a phenomenon seen across northwest Europe between the later tenth and twelfth centuries, resulting in greater permanent settlement in newly drained coastal landscapes, assarting of forests and new upland farms. In some cases, these initiatives were undertaken by regional aristocrats. For example, the Count of Flanders was responsible for dyke-building and drainage in the coastal plain of Flanders in the tenth century (Tys 2003). In the Fens of eastern England, archaeological evidence is now suggesting that building of sea-dykes was a more gradual process, with small dykes constructed by local initiative in the tenth and eleventh centuries, prior to their consolidation and enlargement, often under the auspices of major monastic institutions in the twelfth century (Crowson et al. 2005, 203–5). Accompanying these drainage exercises, promoting salt-tolerant cereal cultivation (barley) and animal husbandry was a huge increase in salt production in the maritime margins, by both free proprietors and agents of major regional landlords, and may reflect increased demand due to the rise of the salted stock-fish industry. The tenth- to eleventh-century settlement at Marsh Chapel in the Lincolnshire sea marshes provides a partially excavated example of a small, new salt-producing enterprise (Fenwick 2001, 236–9). The coastal margins were

The rural world, AD 900–1150: social mobility

not unoccupied landscapes, however, with many sand roddons already occupied (see Chapter 9). These existing populations were not displaced, and where textual evidence is available, as in Flanders, they remained highly independent small landowners, with the vassals of the count inserted on newly drained land (Tys 2003). When many of these coastal dwellers became visible in textual sources for eastern England in the eleventh century, in Domesday Book, a large proportion were also sokemen and freemen, reflecting the dynamic role of these agents in eleventh-century Anglo-Saxon society. It was the Norman Conquest that resulted in them losing many of their freedoms (Williams 1995; Faith 1997). When the coastal wetlands of the Gwent levels, in south Wales, were drained and colonised, in the early decades of the twelfth century, the stimulus seems to have been provided by lordly direction, via the Bishops of Llandaff, Robert, Earl of Gloucester and Marcher lord of Glamorgan and the Lords of Caerleon (Rippon 1997, 23–4). Such a textual picture of the actors behind drainage was very similar for the Fens of England, however, prior to archaeological excavation on a significant scale which showed the prior existence of smaller dyke systems and drainage, already in existence during the tenth and eleventh centuries. As with the transformation of the landscapes of the coastal and fenland margins, changes to the inhabited spaces of woodlands also represented reorganisation of already inhabited and utilised land and resources. Woodlands and tracts of different landscapes used for hunting and sometimes administered by forest law were not solely used for that one form of elite leisure and display (see Chapter 11). They had always been key economic resources, and between the tenth and twelfth centuries many already housed farming and industrial communities within the managed hunting landscapes. Indeed, forests and their communities were highly specialised, not unlike their coastal counterparts. Originally on a seasonal basis, communities of both farmers and miners-cum-metal-smelters developed within certain woodland regions of northwest Europe from the seventh century or earlier. By the tenth and eleventh centuries, some of these may have become communities permanently involved in mining and metalworking. One can cite the examples of iron-mining, -smelting and -smithing communities of the Ardenne forest, below Mont-Vireux (Lémant 1991) and the Perche and Conches forests in Normandy (Decäens 1975; Verhulst 2002, 77–8), and similar communities in the Weald and the Forest of Dean (Hooke 1998; Brookes 2007). Lead mining, smelting and working were also seasonal and increasingly specialist activities of the farming populations of the Peak District from the seventh century

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onwards, administered by local secular nobles for the Mercian monasteries of Wirksworth and Repton, between the eighth and later ninth centuries, and directly from the royal estate at Hope (all Derbyshire) by the eleventh century (Hart 1975; Loveluck 1995; Barnatt and Smith 2004). These multifunctional farmed, industrial and hunting landscapes called forests were subdivided in a tenurial sense between both large and small estates of royal, regional and local small landowners. Hence, the social mix of forest societies should not be underestimated, with their groups of different status and functional role. The range of donors of ironworkings to the Cistercian order in the forests of southern Champagne and northern Burgundy in the opening decades of the twelfth century ranged from regional landowners to small free proprietors, working their own mines and forges (Verna 1995; see below). As the twelfth century progressed, tensions became increasingly evident between the use of these landscapes for elite display through hunting, on the one hand, and for increased agriculture and manufacturing of commodities, on the other. For example, the external bounds of the royal hunting Forest of Dean halved in size between the late eleventh and early fourteenth century, due to exploitation of timber for housing, ship-building and iron-smelting and -smithing, despite strict attempts at royal regulation (Rowley 2001, 142–3). In the decades after the Norman Conquest of England in the late eleventh and early twelfth centuries, the opportunity for social advancement provided by attachment to William of Normandy’s enterprise resulted in the transmission of the Continental social practices of the already-landed elites, and the aspirants-to-become-landed, into England and south Wales. The defended ring-works of some Anglo-Saxon manorial centres, such as Goltho and Trowbridge, were replaced by small castles of motte and wooden donjon, and large ring-work types respectively (Beresford 1987; Graham and Davies 1993). This use of the castle as a symbol of local lordship for the rank of milites, later to be translated as ‘knights’, did not occur widely in England, however, until the 1130s. Goltho, Faccombe Netherton, Trowbridge, Raunds–Furnells, Raunds– West Cotton, Wharram Percy and others all continued to act as manorial centres for decades after the Conquest. It was only in the reign of Stephen that the number of small castles grew substantially, taking their place alongside the royal and comital castles. This increase in the number of small castles is normally explained as a reflection of the civil warfare of the period in England. Although, the period between the later eleventh century and the middle decades of the twelfth was also the half century over which the description miles or ‘knight’ became less a functional description of

The rural world, AD 900–1150: social mobility

social role, and more a description of social rank as the lowest rung of the aristocracy. The milites of William the Conqueror were warriors, but not all were local lords and landholders. By the reigns of Stephen and Henry II, in England, ‘knights’ were clearly distinguished from mercenaries, who fought for cash payment, and milites gregarii et pagenses or ‘rustic warriors/knights’ (Coss 1993, 28–9). Hence, it is possible that the increased building of small castles in the countryside of the 1130s to 1150s was an attempt by local lords of limited wealth to try to obtain a status that no longer rested on role but on a greater level of landed and portable wealth than was available to them. In many cases, however, strategies for displaying local status focussed not on castle-building, but on the building and rebuilding of parish churches, between the 1090s and 1140s. In the past the rebuilding of parish churches, and especially the addition of stone towers in the Romanesque style, has been seen as a marker of regional lordship by leading Norman magnates, both secular and episcopal. Yet recent studies, notably by Stocker and Everson in Lincolnshire, have emphasised that the building of these towers was probably undertaken at the behest and under the sponsorship of local officials of major magnates, and so should be regarded very much as indicators of power-plays among local notables, within the context of the reform movement of the later eleventh and early twelfth centuries (Stocker and Everson 2006, 92). In new colonial situations in the Welsh Marches, however, and within the Norman, English and Flemish colony comprising the Earldom of Pembroke, in southwest Wales, the architecture of local lordship was implanted definitively in the form of ring-work, motte-and-bailey and spur castles from the 1080s and 1090s. In the case of the excavated example of Hen Domen, Montgomery, the established Flemish lord, Baldwin de Bouler (married to an illegitimate daughter of Henry I) and his family exercised a lifestyle of local power based on the feast, with pigs as the predominant domesticated species consumed; the hunt, reflected by the consumption of red deer, the presence of a goshawk and riding gear; and warfare, seen again in riding gear and also weapons (Higham and Barker 2000, 172–7). This material signature of an established lord and royal retainer is made much less distinctive, however, due to the exact emulation of these practices by aspirant rich peasant families. The motte and ringwork castle at Wiston, in Pembrokeshire, is one of the largest and bestpreserved examples of such a settlement in England and Wales, with a large motte and several hectares within the ring-work bailey, which originated as a large Iron Age rath (a large farmstead surrounded by a circular

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bank and ditch). One would have assumed that it reflected the material representation of a long-established landed aristocratic family, if textual evidence did not exist to show that it was founded by a leading Flemish free-proprietor colonist, named Wiso, who had settled in Pembrokeshire with other Flemish peasants around 1110, at the behest of Henry I (Toorians 1990, 99–118; Kissock 1997, 131). The contested nature of the landscapes in which these colonial castles were situated is reflected by the fact that Hen Domen was sacked by neighbouring Welsh rulers in 1095 (Swanton 1996, 231); and similarly Wiston was sacked twice (but not retained) by rulers of the Welsh kingdom of Deheubarth, in 1147 and 1193 (Murphy 1997, 145). The subtenants of the de Cardiff family at Llantrithyd (Glamorgan), living within an unassuming ring-work settlement, also enjoyed lifestyles of conspicuous hunting and falconry, and also of raiding their AngloNorman and Welsh neighbours, according to a charter of 1126 (Bramwell 1977; Davies 1977; Noddle 1977). Those men who followed Robert Fitz Haimo into Glamorgan, and Roger and Arnulf of Montgomery and Henry I into Pembrokeshire, in the 1090s and early 1100s, typify the new aspirant elites of Continental and English origin. The colonists in Pembrokeshire were made up of a combination of Normans, Flemings and English from Somerset and Devon, and most appear to have been household military retainers and free-peasant proprietors. One of the chief lieutenants of Robert Fitz Haimo, William de Londres, also held the toponym ‘of London’, suggesting the possibility that merchant–urban dwellers who had long experience of riding and arms may also have been involved in colonial settlement, seeking increased social status, if not increased wealth, through obtaining landed property in newly conquered territory (see Chapter 13). Once these aspirant elites had obtained and consolidated their newly created territories, through conquest and also intermarriage with the Welsh elites, they emulated the symbols and strategies of lordship of the higher Norman aristocracy as quickly as they were able. William de Londres and his son, Maurice, very quickly transformed an existing Welsh landholding, suggested by an eleventh-century inscribed stone, into a moated ring-work at Ogmore (Glamorgan), at the confluence of the Rivers Ewenny and Ogmore, close to the sea (Kenyon and Spurgeon 2001, 44; Redknap and Lewis 2007, 497). By the 1120s they were building a small two-storey donjon in stone near the gate, possibly emulating the position of the donjon at Ludlow (Kenyon and Spurgeon 2001, 7; Thurlby 2006, 41 and 104–5). The castle was certainly built in a conflict landscape – it was besieged by the Welsh aristocrat Gruffudd ap Rhys in 1116. Parallel

The rural world, AD 900–1150: social mobility

to the investment in a stone donjon by the de Londres family at Ogmore, they also founded and built a Benedictine priory at Ewenny (Glamorgan) as a family mausoleum sometime between the 1120s and 1140s (Park and Stewart 2006, 44–5). This represents exact emulation of Robert Fitz Haimo’s larger foundation at Tewkesbury, and William FitzOsbern’s foundation at Chepstow, as well as those of contemporary Norman Duke–Kings and Angevin Counts. The links of clientage to Fitz Haimo and his successors, the Earls of Gloucester and lords of Glamorgan, were also reflected in the granting of the priory church of St Michael and its possessions at Ewenny to the abbey of St Peter’s, Gloucester (Park and Stewart 2006, 43). In Pembrokeshire, many of the early castles in the territory around Pembroke and the territory of Rhos were also ring-works (Davies 1991, 98–9). Like Wiston, many of the key castles were also sited in refortified, subcircular raths, originally dating from the Iron Age, as at Rosemarket, Castlemartin, Keeston, Crundale and Walwyn’s Castle (Driver 2007, 170–1 and 200–3). Proprietorial churches were then founded outside these ring-works. For the Flemings, the reuse of the circular raths at Wiston, Crundale and Rosemarket would have had especial resonance from their homeland, where the vast majority of fortifications, both large and small, were ringforts in the tenth and eleventh centuries (see Chapters 7 and 10; De Meulemeester 1983, 205; Callebaut 1994). Yet, as in Glamorgan, it is entirely wrong to perceive the creation of the society of twelfth-century Pembrokeshire as the product of immigrants from England, northern France and Flanders alone. The Marcher society of Pembrokeshire was actively created by both seizure of land from and intermarriage with the existing Welsh aristocracy. Both Austin and Kissock have observed the takeover of likely Welsh estate centres and other settlements, such as the possible llysoedd at Carew (South Pembrokeshire) and Nevern (North Pembrokeshire), and the settlement at Castlemartin, where the Iron Age rath was remodelled as a ring-work castle, and the existing field system radiating from it continued in use (Kissock 1997; Austin 2005; Driver 2007, 203). Carew, on the banks of the Cleddau in south Pembrokeshire, was probably a centre (llys) of the Welsh princes of Deheubarth, the native principality of southwest Wales. Excavations by David Austin at the promontory fort from which Carew gets its name (Caerau – forts), have shown occupation into the eighth century, and the early eleventh-century Carew Cross is located adjacent to it, for a long time thought to be a memorial to Maredudd ap Edwin, prince of Deheubarth, although recent

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rereading has questioned this identification (Edwards 2007). Sometime between 1102 and 1105, Nest, princess of Deheubarth, was married to Gerald of Windsor, a former steward of the royal household of Henry I, and the royal castellan of Pembroke castle and governor of the nascent earldom (Maund 2007, 128–33). Nest had been a prisoner of the Norman kings in the later 1090s, and had been a mistress of Henry I. As a marriage dowry, Gerald was given Carew, and his children took the toponym for their name. It is unclear, however, whether the endowment of a likely existing centre and estate at Carew was made to Gerald and Nest by Henry I, or whether it was formally gifted by the princes of Deheubarth. Perhaps a combination of both can be envisaged, as the Normans may have had possession of the estate by 1102, even though the princes of Deheubarth may still have claimed its possession. On his receipt of Carew, Gerald redeveloped the earlier promontory site into a castle, initially of earth and wood. Recent researchers have also claimed that the ‘Old Tower’ at Carew castle – a small, square masonry donjon – also dates from Gerald’s lifetime (Lloyd, Orbach and Scourfield 2004, 153). It would be the only early twelfthcentury masonry donjon in the entire earldom known at present, if Gerald was the builder. In reality, however, the donjon is hard to date within the twelfth century, and it would have been odd if Carew possessed a stone donjon at a time when the principal castle of the earldom at Pembroke did not. A two-storey stone hall certainly existed at Pembroke castle from the mid to late twelfth century, but no early stone donjon has yet been recognised (Lloyd, Orbach and Scourfield 2004, 332). It is perhaps better to view the Carew donjon as a product of the middle decades of the twelfth century. The de Barri family of Gerald of Wales (Giraldus Cambrensis), and relatives of the Geraldines of Carew, were also to consolidate symbolically their position among the ranks of the new marcher aristocracy with the construction in stone of a two-storey hall block and a small tower adjacent to the gate at their coastal spur castle of Manorbier, between the 1160s and 1180s (Figure 31) (Thurlby 2006, 132–3). The interrelationship of the Welsh princes of Deheubarth and the Norman invaders is even more definitive in the takeover of the llys centre of Nevern, in north Pembrokeshire. The Norman Fitzmartin family seems to have annexed the existing estate of Nevern and Newport in the early 1100s (probably c. 1108), converting a likely Iron Age hillfort into a motteand-bailey castle at Nevern, adjacent to the existing religious focus at St Brynach’s church (Caple 2011, 50). This formed the centre of their lordship, known as Cemaes, until the castle was overrun by the princes of Deheubarth in the mid 1130s. Subsequently, the Fitzmartins married into

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Figure 31 The hall–donjon at Manorbier castle, Pembrokeshire, seat of the de Barri family of Giraldus Cambrensis, built in the mid twelfth century

the royal house of Deheubarth, with William Fitzmartin marrying the daughter of ‘The Lord Rhys ap Gruffudd’, prince of Deheubarth in the mid to late twelfth century. It was only this political alliance which ensured possession of Cemaes by the Fitzmartins (Turvey 1997, 104–5). For significant periods in the twelfth century, the castle at Nevern was directly occupied by the princes of Deheubarth. Indeed, some of the architectural features reflect Welsh influence. Recent excavations have uncovered stone residential buildings within the castle, of mid to late twelfth-century date, and with clay bonding rather than mortared masonry – a native technique not normally used by the Normans (Caple 2009, 2011, 51). The excavations have also shown the ubiquitous evidence of leisure on the part of castle-dwellers across eleventh- and twelfth-century western Europe, in the form of a merels/nine-men’s-morris board (Caple 2011). Other than the churches of the Benedictine priories at St Clears and Monkton, Pembroke, and the Tironian priory at St Dogmael’s, there are also very few churches with twelfth-century standing fabric in

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Pembrokeshire. Twelfth-century Romanesque architecture from proprietorial churches that became parish churches is almost non-existent, with the exceptions of round-headed arches at Wiston, Gumfreston, Manorbier and Lawrenny, which probably date from the later twelfth century (Lloyd, Orbach and Scourfield 2004, 495; Thurlby 2006, 187). This very much contrasts with the situation in England, during the first half of the twelfth century, where local notables indulged in competitive church-building in the Romanesque style. This difference in fashion may be a consequence of political instability and regular conflict in Pembrokeshire. The Romanesque parish churches of England were built normally over thirty years after the Norman Conquest. The settlements and landscapes of south Wales still regularly changed hands between Anglo-Norman/Fleming and Welsh lords, until the 1190s. When parish churches were built in stone in Pembrokeshire, mainly from the thirteenth century, Anglo-Norman control was more secure. Conflict may not have been the sole reason for late construction of stone churches in Pembrokeshire, however. Many of them possess stone fonts dating from the later twelfth century, carved from stone imported from the English counties of Avon or Somerset, from across the Severn estuary. The influence of the late English Romanesque architectural style used at Wells Cathedral (Somerset) has long been observed on the rebuilding of St David’s Cathedral by Bishop Peter de Leia in the 1180s, and the fonts may also reflect the attempts of the Bishops of St David’s to exert control over the proprietorial/parish churches of their diocese, as it was consolidated during the later twelfth century (Brakspear 1931; Thurlby 2006, 187–8). As such, the lack of investment in stone parish churches could reflect tensions over control of them between new local lords and the new Norman diocese. The late investment in stone could also reflect the small size of the territories given to the military retainers – the ‘knights’ fees’ – by the Earls of Pembroke, between the 1090s and early 1100s (Davies 1991, 186). It may only have been possible to build in stone once their relatively limited resources could be diverted from defence and survival to social display for the spiritual. Finally, the transformation of forests and coastal marshes into mixed farming landscapes, and the colonisation of new territories by conquest and intermarriage, were also accompanied by aspirations of the spiritual transformation of landscapes by a new religious order, the Cistercians, during the first half of the twelfth century. The Cistercian order was founded by Robert of Molesme in 1098, when he founded the abbey of Cîteaux (Côte d’Or), in northern Burgundy. The early Cistercians sought to return to a stricter version of the rule of St Benedict, just as their Cluniac

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colleagues had done almost two centuries before. Cîteaux was located in a heavily wooded part of northern Burgundy, and the densest and earliest concentration of Cistercian monasteries lies in this region. Critical to the Cistercian myth and spiritual world-view was the need to found their monastic communities in wilderness and desolate landscapes, and make them fruitful through manual labour (Menuge 2000, 23–8). Yet their spiritual desires were often far removed from the reality of the landscapes in which their monasteries were founded. Very soon after the creation of the first Cistercian houses, prior to 1120, at Cîteaux, La Ferté (Essonne), Clairvaux (Aube), Morimond (Haute-Marne), La Crête (Aube), Pontigny (Yonne) and Bourras (Nièvre), the order very quickly became heavily involved in the mining of iron ore and ironworking in their forested homeland regions of southern Champagne and northern Burgundy (see Maps 2 and 3) (Bouchard 1991). These regions were far from desolate or sparsely occupied. They existed in heavily settled and exploited forest and forest-edge landscapes. The quick involvement of the order in iron-mining and ironworking was not a consequence of the desire of the Cistercians to make the land fruitful by their manual labour. Instead, the Cistercians were gifted large and small ironworkings from regional lords and local notables. They also purchased ironworkings (Verna 1995, 15–26). Recent studies of the 1990s, examining in detail the activities of the Cistercians in this region, through charter evidence and bills of sale, emphasise the large scale of their interaction with the regional lay population across the social spectrum, for the economic benefit of the order, and as a corollary the spiritual well-being of benefactors, monks, nuns and lay members of their religious communities. They were not instrumental in physically changing the landscape by themselves. They were gifted existing economic resources in their Burgundian homeland, and through managing and trading those resources and others, they prospered, while maintaining their spiritual myth and ‘mindscape’. When the Cistercian order was invited to found a community in England at Waverley (Surrey), by William Giffard, Bishop of Winchester, in 1128, others soon followed with the support of Henry I. The abbey founded at Rievaulx (North Yorkshire) by Walter Espec in 1131 is one of the most famous. The context of its foundation is also instructive of the actions of the order in England. In the past, the foundation of major Cistercian houses in Yorkshire, an area known to have been ravaged during the ‘harrying of the north’ by William the Conqueror in 1069, has been seen as supporting the Cistercian myth of making desolate landscapes fruitful. Similarly, the correspondence of the leading Cistercian, Bernard

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of Clairvaux to King Henry, describing the spiritual role of the Cistercians to create a Benedictine utopia from the spiritual wilderness at Rievaulx, also seems to support the Cistercian perception of themselves (Menuge 2000, 29). Yet the physical reality was somewhat different. They are recorded first as having lived in wooden buildings on the site of the monastery, which was located only about 3 kilometres from Helmsley (North Yorkshire), the main estate centre in the region of their benefactor and protector, Walter Espec. Indeed, he may have provided the labour and materials to construct these first structures (Jamroziak 2005, 32). Hence at no time were they in a desolate wilderness, devoid of support. The landscape setting of the monastery lay in a secluded wooded valley bounded by hills, next to the stream known as the Rie. In addition to the proximity of Helmsley, there were also other nearby lay settlements, which provided both requisitioned and hired labour during the construction of the main monastic buildings in the middle and later decades of the twelfth century (Menuge 2000, 35). The Romanesque monastic church at Rievaulx was the largest of those founded within the group of large Cistercian houses in the region of North Yorkshire, among them Fountains and Kirkstall. It was built by the middle decades of the twelfth century, and copied directly Cistercian architectural traits from Burgundy (Halsey 1986, 77–82), although its east range and cloister did show traits derived from the Anglo-Norman Romanesque style, probably reflecting different origins on the part of the masons, between the two architectural campaigns in the middle and later decades of the twelfth century respectively (Robinson and Harrison 2006, 141). The spiritual and economic success of the monastery lay not in its desolate seclusion but in its very active interaction with the secular world, and its active acquisition and development of new farming enterprises – granges – beyond the parent institution, mainly involved in sheep-farming in upland areas. As in England, patronage from secular rulers was critical to the success of Cistercian foundations in Wales and Scotland. In Wales, the creation of Cistercian houses was achieved in two waves, by different groups of social actors: firstly, by Anglo-Norman Marcher lords; and secondly, by the native Welsh aristocracy. The first foundation, in a wooded valley at Tintern (Gwent), by Walter Fitz Richard de Clare, was influenced by family ties to William Giffard, the Bishop of Winchester. Others followed at Margam (Glamorgan) and Neath, a Savigniac monastery refounded as a Cistercian house, in 1147, and Whitland (Pembrokeshire), in 1151 (Robinson 2006, 24–7). With the resurgence of the power of the principality of Deheubarth, in southwest Wales, under ‘the Lord Rhys ap Gruffudd’,

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in the mid 1160s, he became the patron of the community at Whitland. He also promoted new daughter foundations from Whitland, especially the community that he resettled at Strata Florida (Ceredigion), on the banks of the River Teifi, in 1165 (Turvey 1997, 82–6). This abbey became one of the wealthiest in Wales, largely due to land grants made to it by the princes of Deheubarth, managed through fifteen grange farms, often upland sheep ranches (Robinson and Platt 1998, 20–1). Again, as in Burgundy and Yorkshire, the upland landholdings and their management seem to have owed a huge debt to the existing settlement structure, and existing landscape management and animal husbandry practices, rather than organisational transformation under Cistercian direction (Fleming and Barker 2008). Other Cistercian foundations by Whitland under the patronage of Rhys included Strata Marcella in 1170, Cwmhir in 1176 and Llantarnam in 1179. The Princes of Gwynedd followed the example of Rhys, and sponsored in turn further daughter houses of Strata Florida and Strata Marcella at Aberconwy in 1186 and Valle Crucis in 1201 (Robinson 2006, 26–7). In Scotland, the Cistercians were to receive thirteen houses, beginning with the patronage of the Scottish king, David I. In 1136, he founded a Cistercian abbey at Melrose (Borders), in the Diocese of Glasgow, with monks from Rievaulx (Cowan 1994, 8). In organisation and Romanesque architecture, it became the model for other Cistercian foundations, as at Newbattle (Midlothian) (1140), and for those of other orders, such as that of the Augustinians at Jedburgh (Borders) (Wischermann 2004, 248–9). In Ireland too, the Cistercians had already created fifteen foundations, from grants made by the Irish kings, between 1142 and the Anglo-Norman invasion from Pembrokeshire in 1169, and had developed their own Irish Romanesque style, alongside the influences of Clairvaux (O’Keeffe 2001, 136–9, 2007). These Cistercian foundations not only marked the influence of the religious reform movement on the secular elite mentality of the Atlantic rim. They also marked a strategy of religious patronage that could reinforce socio-political identity, in the turbulent decades of the mid twelfth century, when there was no certainty or contemporary perception that the Norman incursions into Wales and Ireland need be long-lasting.

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13 Major ports and merchant patricians as catalysts

for social change, AD 900–1100

Maritime networks and major ports, c. AD 850–950: decline and transformation

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The changes to the settlement hierarchy, landscape and nature of rural societies in northwest Europe between the tenth and mid twelfth centuries were linked to the transformation of major ports and the development of administrative towns in a far more intimate way than for the period between the seventh and ninth centuries. This included the genesis of a new relationship between towns and their hinterlands, and a concentration of artisan and especially long-distance trade in what became key maritime, estuarine and riverside port towns. This reorientation of trade on principal port towns and the concentration of merchants, artisans and their key secular and ecclesiastical patrons at these central places had a profound social and economic impact. It resulted in the emergence of a vibrant, wealthy and increasingly independent merchant social group, operating on the basis of portable wealth and profit, with increasingly global horizons. They achieved that wealth often in alliance with governmental authorities, serving and benefitting from public offices, to augment their commercial activities. By the eleventh century there are signs in both textual and archaeological evidence that the social status of merchants, especially merchant–officeholders had advanced to match their levels of material wealth, resulting in what can be described as merchant civic patricians. They started to have a monumental presence in major port towns by the eleventh century, when they built proprietorial churches, and by the early twelfth century they were also building ostentatious stone town-houses in key port towns to rival the residences of landed aristocrats. Indeed, by the eleventh century at the latest, leading merchants were also buying land in urban and rural situations, or were granted estates as partial reward for service as government officials. This chapter analyses the rise of the merchant patrician group as a social and political force, from their bases in major port towns, and charts the development of social mobility through maritime commerce between the tenth and twelfth centuries, and the recognition of their growing power and importance by governmental authorities and landed elites.

Ports and merchant patricians as catalysts for change, AD 900–1100

With the socio-political changes of the tenth and eleventh centuries in northwest Europe, major port towns became much more integrated with their rural hinterlands at the same time as the scale of maritime orientation, networks and freedoms of many coastal populations diminished overall. These phenomena can be seen in the coastal regions of eastern England, between the Humber estuary and the Fens; along the coasts of Flanders and Frisia; and around the North Sea and Kattegat coasts of Jutland. These changes began during the later ninth century, when the geographical scope of many of the networks of coastal communities became more regionally focussed, alongside the demise of some emporia ports and the transformation of others. This change in the scope of the networks of some coastal populations has only recently been observed but the different fates of emporia ports in northwest Europe have for a long time been attributed, in part, to disruption of North Sea and Channel trade routes due to Scandinavian raiding and campaigns of conquest, during the ninth century. For both Pirenne and Hodges, the Scandinavian conquests resulted in both the creation of new dynamic port towns at existing centres, such as York and Dublin, and the reorientation of maritime trade routes from the southern North Sea and Channel to the Baltic, Irish Sea and north Atlantic regions. Accordingly, links to the Byzantine and Islamic worlds were then funnelled via the Baltic Sea and Russian river systems, and via the maritime urban republic of Venice. Yet both archaeological and textual research now shows this hypothesis to be much too simplistic, and in many instances incorrect. The recent publications of the major excavation campaigns at the Scandinavian ports at Ribe (southwest Jutland) and Kaupang (Vestfold, Oslo fjord) show that these centres for trade and specialist manufacturing declined dramatically in the middle and later decades of the ninth century, in terms of their occupied areas and activity (Feveile 2006a; Skre 2007). Their decline directly mirrored that of their counterparts at Dorestad in the Netherlands, and Hamwic–Southampton and Lundenwic–London in England. These trading settlements were already in decline on both sides of the North Sea and Channel by circa 850, prior to the major Scandinavian conquests in eastern England, from the mid 850s to 880s. The archaeological evidence (discussed in Chapter 9) shows that mariners from the British Isles, France, Frisia and western Scandinavia had been linked by the same overlapping networks of maritime hubs and coastal populations, between the seventh and mid ninth centuries. The same pattern of maritime integration and decline is seen at some smaller ports in the western Baltic region, such as Stavnsager (east Jutland), which was integrated with England, the Irish Sea region, Frisia and Francia, between the sixth and ninth centuries. Like the

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major ports above, however, from the mid ninth century long-distance contacts with Stavnsager largely refocussed on the Baltic and the North Atlantic coast of Norway (Fiedel, Høilund Nielsen and Loveluck 2011). The simultaneous decline, and in some cases abandonment, of major ports, and the transformation of others, is a reflection of their interconnection and reliance. Hence, it is much too simplistic to suggest that Scandinavian raiding and conquest disrupted ports and maritime trade routes to intentionally result in the reorientation of networks northwards. The reality appearing from the archaeological evidence now suggests that political power in ninth-century Scandinavia was highly fragmented, and while ports such as Ribe and Kaupang may have become dominated by emerging royal authorities, other independent Scandinavian leaders with their own followings disrupted established Scandinavian ports and ruling authorities as much as they disrupted those of foreign counterparts. The large number of wealthy settlements on the Limfjord, in northern Denmark, and centres like Borg in the Lofoten Islands of Norway might provide evidence of such independent lineages (Stamsø Munch, Johansen and Roesdahl 2003; Loveluck 2011). Nevertheless, the continued growth of Hedeby (Haithabu, Schleswig-Holstein) on the Schlei fjord in southern Jutland throughout the later ninth and tenth centuries, probably dominated by the Jelling-based Danish royal dynasty, shows that not all major ports declined, nor did the scale and scope of networks (Kalmring 2010). Continuity of the power of a likely royal authority in southern Jutland is possibly reflected through the minting of coinage, and hence taxation of trade through toll collection, during the ninth century and beyond. This is suggested especially by the transferral of the motifs of the earlier ‘Wotan-monster’ sceattas (series X), minted at Ribe between c. 710 and 750, to broad penny coins, minted in the ninth century, and found at Hedeby. It is not known, however, whether they were minted at Ribe or Hedeby (Jensen 1991, 53). Unlike the small port at Stavnsager which lost its nonScandinavian links, others like Aarhus maintained a wider but limited range of longer-distance contacts with Francia – although these could also have been facilitated through contacts with the larger ‘international’ port hub in the western Baltic, at Hedeby (Skov 2008). In summary, the archaeological evidence now suggests that multiple agencies and intentions were at work on the demise, continued success or transformation of both the larger and smaller ports of northern Europe, between c. 850 and 900. While the abandonment of the sites of the ports at Dorestad, Ribe and Kaupang present an image of decline, other evidence suggests a more complex change in the relationship between ruling authorities, largely

Ports and merchant patricians as catalysts for change, AD 900–1100

responsible for the administration and protection of major ports, and the seafaring mercantile and artisan communities that occupied them. In some instances the sites that housed the port and mercantile settlements of the later seventh to mid ninth centuries simply shifted a short distance, sometimes relocating within defensible enclosures, as at London, where the site of Lundenwic was abandoned and a mixed population of artisans and traders moved to the waterfront zone and Cheapside area, within the Roman walled circuit of Londinium. The move from the site of Hamwic to the site of the medieval town of Southampton, however, cannot be regarded as a move to a more defensible location (Platt 1973). There seems to have been a similar relocation of the principal focus of the port of Quentovic, from its site near Vismarest towards Montreuil, during the course of the tenth century. Coins were, nevertheless, struck with the mint name of Quentovic well into the tenth century (Verslype 2010). Similarly, Domburg still existed, although the beach and dune landing place was augmented by a large circular ringfort at the end of the ninth century (Lebecq 1995). Hence, in most instances while the exact sites of many emporia were abandoned, there was direct continuity of a port and an associated mercantile population in their immediate vicinities. Nevertheless, the size of those port communities varied during the later ninth and tenth centuries, depending on the settlement. Quentovic–Montreuil was eclipsed by Bruges, Rouen and a range of smaller ports located on the coastline between the latter major centres by the early eleventh century. Trading and manufacturing activity at later ninth- and early tenth-century Southampton and London also diminished, in comparison to the eighth and eleventh centuries. At the same time, however, their acquisition of administrative and governmental functions as burhs (see Chapter 14) ensured the survival of a mix of social actors and patronage at these centres, resulting in renewed growth during the second half of the tenth century. At river and estuarine ports conquered by or ceded to Scandinavian leaders and their followers, there was much more continuity and dynamic growth in certain instances. In the case of York, Norwich and Lincoln, further developments expanded from the settlement foci occupied in the eighth and ninth centuries, although with significant replanning. The dynamic growth at these port settlements in eastern England, however, was not a universal marker of Scandinavian political control, administration and commercial stimulus. Dorestad had been ceded to the Viking war leader, Harold, in the 830s, to administer on behalf of the Carolingian emperor, Louis the Pious (McKitterick 1983). Yet he failed to stop it being sacked by other Vikings, and the settlement was eventually abandoned. The foundation of the river port at Tiel, as its suggested successor (Hodges

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2000), cannot really be regarded as nearby continuity of port functions, as it is too far away. Similarly, archaeological evidence shows that the area within the Roman walled circuit at Rouen does not appear to have received the mercantile stimulus akin to York, Dublin and Norwich, after the Viking Hrolfr/Rollo was made Count of Rouen by Charles the Simple, in 911. The area within the Late Roman walls of Rouen certainly saw increased occupation from the end of the ninth century, including the replanning of the street system to the west of the cathedral, probably in the 930s to 940s (Figure 32) (Gauthiez 1993, 17–18, 2003), but the evidence for the mercantile activities undertaken there is, at present, much less dynamic than that encountered at Coppergate, in York, or Fishamble Street and Wood Quay in Dublin, and shows far less influence from the Scandinavian world. Yet at the same time textual evidence indicates that Rouen was a key centre for slave trading with Islamic Iberia, during the tenth century, with northern European slaves being shipped to ports on the Iberian Atlantic coast (Nightingale 1995, 9). The explanation for the different trajectories in the development of these later ninth- and tenth-century port centres in northwest Europe probably relates to the different regional circumstances of the interaction between Scandinavians and different elements of the Anglo-Saxon, Irish, Frisian and Frankish populations. Rouen possessed a major cathedral group complex and bishop’s palace, dating from the eighth and ninth centuries (see Chapter 8), and was the administrative centre for a diocese (Le Maho 2006). A collection of small portages on the banks of the lower River Seine had been administered and taxed from Rouen, as its portus (Le Maho 2003). A large-scale pottery industry had also existed outside the city, centred on La Londe. Rouen remained an episcopal centre throughout the tenth century, when the Duchy of Normandy was created. It is unknown where Rollo resided most often after Rouen and its region were given to him, but it is likely that he had a residence within the walled settlement, among others, as at Fécamp (Renoux 1991). Scandinavian and other traders and artisans may not have settled in the walled area, however (Lorans 2007, 89). They may have chosen to settle at one or a number of the known landing-place settlements along the Seine, downriver from the walled centre, so this may account for the relatively limited archaeological evidence of mercantile dynamism within the walled area. Alternatively, the scale and density of Scandinavian settlement at Rouen, or regular presence of the counts/dukes and their leading followers, could have been more limited in comparison to port centres such as York or Dublin, providing less patronage than the latter centres. In sum, the relationship of any Scandinavian incomers to the native population of Rouen seems to have been very different to that of the occupants of the port centres that boomed in the tenth century.

Ports and merchant patricians as catalysts for change, AD 900–1100

Late R

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Figure 32 Plan of the area within the Late Roman walls of Rouen, Normandy, probably reorganised with a new street layout during the 930s, under Duke William Longsword

Comparison with York is instructive in suggesting which elements of the population provided the agencies for dynamic growth.

Patrons, merchant dynamism and new hinterland relationships, AD 900–1000 York had become the principal centre of power within the Anglo-Saxon kingdom of Northumbria by the late eighth century. It possessed a royal palace, it was the centre of the diocese of the Archbishops of York, with a

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cathedral, possibly a bishop’s palace, and linked monastic communities. It had a royal and episcopal mint, and a small port, merchant and artisan quarter, at Fishergate. It is one of the two central places of pre-Viking England, along with London, that may have had sufficient diversity of functions and scale of population to merit the label of a ‘town’, in the modern sense (see Chapter 8). The Scandinavian ‘Great Army’ conquered York in 867, following civil war in Northumbria, and installed an AngloSaxon puppet king, prior to ruling directly from the mid 870s. Successive Scandinavian rulers then governed a kingdom centred on York and the Yorkshire Ridings, between the 870s and 955, with a brief interlude of West Saxon hegemony in the later 920s to 930s. For much of the 920s to 940s, York was governed by the Guthrifsson family, who also ruled Dublin and its associated rural hinterland. Throughout this period of Scandinavian rule at York, it continued to be the seat of the archdiocese (Rollason 2004, 313). Viking rulers and their retinues also seem to have been resident predominantly at York. Hence, the concentration of political and ecclesiastical power provided by leading Scandinavians and Northumbrian Anglo-Saxon clerics resulted in a social environment for the creation of wealthy artisan and merchant populations through patronage. Some elements of the mercantile–artisan population of York migrated from other parts of northwest Europe to serve these new patrons: notably many of the moneyers, who minted silver coinage for Scandinavian and West Saxon kings of York, between 927 and 954. Most held names in Old German and Old French, suggesting individual or family origins in northwest Francia (Blackburn 2004, 342). During the tenth and eleventh centuries, moneyers were often already major merchants dealing in gold and silver bullion, spices and other luxuries, such as silks, so their official service to landed elites was combined with the ability to profit through far-flung networks (Nightingale 1995, 24–30). The concentration of wealth and patronage in the city also changed the nature of networks between York and its hinterlands, with both the Yorkshire interior and the Humber estuary, through the choices of artisans to relocate to York from earlier rural centres. The combination of elite patrons and artisans focussed at an urban port like York also encouraged the concentration of long-distance maritime traders to these centres, just as they also created the relationship between town and ‘country’ that existed during the central Middle Ages, in that rural-dwellers were increasingly obliged to travel to towns to buy certain goods. The occupational biographies of the households from Coppergate, York, and Flixborough–Conesby, close to the Humber estuary, perhaps serve as

Ports and merchant patricians as catalysts for change, AD 900–1100

examples of the wider social trends in Scandinavian-influenced eastern England, between the late ninth and early eleventh centuries. The remains from the Coppergate excavations, directed by Richard Hall, provide evidence of the most intensive use of space for craft-working purposes in a town from England, between the early tenth and early eleventh centuries. The four narrow tenements excavated took up just under 30 m of the Coppergate street frontage. The opposite ends of these long tenements also fronted on to the more important street frontage of Ousegate (Rees Jones 2002, 687–8). There were both buildings at the street fronts and residential and craft-working buildings within the tenements behind. By the mid tenth century, cellared buildings were also present – a feature of mercantile tenements of this era, also found in London. Their households were involved in ironworking; gold, silver and other non-ferrous metalworking from the 930s; and also textile manufacturing and woodturning, amongst other crafts (Mainman and Rogers 2004, 482). The nature of the manufacturing reflects the involvement of both men and women in the fabrication of goods for sale to specific patrons and/or the wider populace. The web of networks to procure the necessary raw materials also demonstrates integration within trade routes to Continental Europe and the Orient. Some of the dye plants used in textile manufacture may have been imported from warmer parts of Europe to ensure better quality of colour, for example madder; although the presence of the bug Heterogaster uticae was so frequent in the Coppergate deposits of the tenth century that Kenward and Hall suggested that summer temperatures were considerably higher than today. As a corollary, good-quality madder could have been grown locally, and likewise the exotic herbs recovered, such as coriander and dill (Kenward and Hall 1995, 773 and 781; Walton Rogers 1997, 1769). Links with the Byzantine and Islamic world, including central Asia, are reflected in silver dirhem coins, some struck in Samarkand, and silk offcuts, used to embellish garments (Hall 1994). The presence of the black rat in deposits at Coppergate from the tenth century may also reflect the more regular presence of ships and mariners involved in trade networks with the Mediterranean and central Asia (O’Connor 1991). Archaeological evidence for black rats in Britain is currently all but absent between the fourth and tenth centuries, and their presence at Coppergate may reflect their reintroduction as accidental passengers on ships frequenting ports in the Baltic or along the Atlantic coast of France or Iberia. It was not only patrons who used and wore the trappings and wealth derived from mercantile activity, however. Also found within the tenth- to

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early eleventh-century tenements at Coppergate were riding gear, including a silver-inlaid wooden saddle; weapons – spears, arrowheads and sword furniture; an ansate-type brooch from the Rhine delta region; disc brooches of southern English and Ottonian German inspiration; and a complete yellow silk bonnet (Ottaway 1992, 698–718; Walton Rogers 1997, 1779; Tweddle 2004, 449–57). The famous eighth-century Coppergate helmet was also found nearby, hidden in a shallow well, probably during the tenth century (Tweddle 1992). In terms of dress jewellery and finished artefacts, it is striking that few objects were actually Scandinavian products. Instead, metalwork, leather scabbards and sculpture were decorated with insular English derivatives of Scandinavian, southern English and Ottonian German styles (Tweddle 2004). The character of the manufacturing activity also suggests continuity and development of regional Anglo-Saxon practices, for example in the manufacture of textiles. Walton Rogers has noted that aesthetic schemes for the decoration of clothing, especially the colours of clothing for export, were gaining regional traits in the tenth and eleventh centuries, with England being particularly associated with the production of woollen garments dyed red with madder, while export products of Dublin used lichen purple and those of Scandinavia were predominantly blue (Walton Rogers 1997, 1769). This may be confirmed with the discovery of madder in tenth- to twelfth-century deposits from major mercantile and manufacturing centres in England – York, London, Winchester, Thetford and Norwich (Walton Rogers 1997, 1769). This colour should not be confused with the colour description, ‘scarlet’, however, which seems to have been an English cloth of a specifically fine quality, rather than a specific red colour. Indeed, the mid tenth-century Arab geographer Ibn Yaqub specifically noted the export of fine-quality cloth, coloured white or turquoise blue from England (Lewis 2001, 195). The relevance of the dress accessories, weapons, luxuries and manufacturing techniques for understanding the people who lived on tenth-century Coppergate–Ousegate is that their lives were based on long-distance connections with multiple ethnic influences. The majority of the artisans and merchants were probably of indigenous Anglo-Saxon ancestry, who adopted new influences as a consequence of exposure to new patrons and new trade networks. Prevalent theoretical paradigms of the last thirty years have tended to stress the client and subservient status of artisan and merchant households to secular aristocratic, ecclesiastical and otherwise landowning patrons. Yet, there is no reason to view the material culture of mobility on land, war and luxury clothing as the cast-off apparel of aristocratic patrons.

Ports and merchant patricians as catalysts for change, AD 900–1100

Lifestyles using luxury items of portable wealth had been a characteristic of artisan and mercantile households from at least the mid seventh century onwards, from the smith buried at Tattershall Thorpe (Lincolnshire) to the port households of Hamwic and London in the eighth and ninth centuries. So, too, were the necessities of a mobile lifestyle typical, especially for men in seafaring and other merchant households, which involved great risks on the seas, river corridors and land routes of Europe, while away from places protected by ruling authorities, such as major ports. Hence, possession of weapons by seafaring merchants or fine metalsmiths should not surprise. Cooperation between merchants and ruling authorities remained critical to the success of major ports, as it had done between the seventh and ninth centuries. Governmental authorities protected and policed port centres, promoting the safety of foreign merchants when in port, and also providing a relatively safe environment for the families of native merchant seafarers, which must have comprised a high proportion of women when the men were abroad. This provision of security was the best way to guarantee promotion of trade and revenue generation from its taxation, with both rulers on the one hand and independent and tied merchants and artisans on the other benefitting from the symbiotic relationship. This picture of the concentration of specialist artisans and merchants at the port city of York, to the benefit of both patrons and sellers, very much contrasts with the evidence for specialist production and exchange in its rural hinterland, even around the Humber river systems. The later ninth century witnessed the disappearance of the long-distance maritime links so characteristic of all elements of societies of the Humber and Fens coastal region of eastern England between c. 650 and 850. Even at Flixborough– Conesby, which during the tenth century became a rural manorial centre named ‘King’s settlement’ in Old Danish, there were no evident links with southern England or Continental Europe. In contrast to the ninth century, when specialist production, possibly under monastic management, was the principal feature of the rural centre, its tenth-century lifestyle signature was that of conspicuous consumption based on the resources of its estate and landscape alone. Manufacturing diminished to small-scale textile production, boat maintenance and ironworking (both smelting and smithing), for the immediate needs of the settlement. The transformation of patterns of specialist manufacturing at Flixborough between the mid ninth and the early tenth centuries coincided with the laying out and populating of the artisan and mercantile tenements at Coppergate–Ousegate, York. It was probably no coincidence that the definition of the elite lifestyle of the ‘countryside’ at early tenth-century Flixborough–Conesby happened

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simultaneously with the gravitational pull on artisans toward the transformed towns of Scandinavian-ruled York and Lincoln, with their multiple patrons and major river ports. The diminished range of specialist artisans in the rural world, and their choice to reside at the increasingly large and socially diverse centres of regional government in Scandinavian-dominated eastern England, also resulted in the need for rural settlements to access goods manufactured at the growing towns. Hence, this provided one foundation of the relationship between market town and rural hinterland, so characteristic of the central Middle Ages (Loveluck 2001, 2007). Another was the increasing tendency for landed aristocrats to have urban estates, focussed on enclosures or groups of tenements in towns, which resulted in increased residence in towns for rural landowners more generally, thus further concentrating patronage and expenditure in urban centres (see Chapter 14). At Flixborough–Conesby, these links with the new Anglo-Scandinavian centres were reflected in small quantities of pottery made at Lincoln and Torksey (Lincolnshire) above all else, and possibly by the presence of the black rat at the manorial centre, reflecting direct river and estuarine communication with York. Other sites on the north bank of the Humber, such as the monastery at Beverley, received pottery and coinage struck at York (Armstrong and Evans 1991). The presence of tenth- and eleventh-century pottery wares made in Lincoln is also repeated on nearly all the other coastal settlements in Lincolnshire from the Humber to the Fens, alongside other mass-produced wares from further south in certain instances, such as Thetford ware, from the Anglo-Scandinavian town in the Fens. As in earlier periods, the absence of coinage is again a feature on the marshland hamlets. Similarly, no coinage reached Flixborough between the 880s and the 970s, although lead weights and a silver ‘finger’ ingot indicate that contemporary Scandinavian-style bullion exchange was used for transactions. The specialist activities of inhabitants of the coastal margins certainly continued: for example, salt production at Marsh Chapel, in the Lincolnshire sea marshes, as well as the focus on animal husbandry (Fenwick 2001, 231–41; Crowson et al. 2005, 90–1). The trade in these products, however, must be assumed to have been regional. In the case of the Humber, coastal exchange had become focussed on the key regional port town at York, where merchant– mariners, artisans and ‘buyers’ combined. Hence, the scale of the networks and world-view of the coastal populations had been transformed from the international to regional level, integrated with new regional central places; and increasingly their liminality was also diminished during the course of the tenth and eleventh centuries by dyke-building and land drainage.

Ports and merchant patricians as catalysts for change, AD 900–1100

The same phenomenon is also seen in coastal Flanders, where the populations of coastal marshes lost their long-distance contacts during the course of the tenth and eleventh centuries, at the same time as the onset of major land reclamation and the growth of new port towns, such as Bruges, both directly sponsored by the Count of Flanders (Loveluck and Tys 2006, 162). In Denmark too, the tenth and eleventh centuries also saw the transformation of certain existing ports and the foundation of new settlements at royal behest, to become major royal port towns: for example, Aarhus, Aalborg, Roskilde and Lund. While the exchange networks of coastal settlements became reoriented on major port towns, however, this reorientation did not result in significant quantities of imported luxuries discarded in the rural world. Instead contacts were mostly manifested through pottery and coinage obtained from the urban centres, in both English and Danish contexts. Exotic products, such as the silk from the burial under Hørning church, overlooking what had become a farming settlement at the former small port at Stavnsager, are exceptionally rare (Fiedel, Høilund Nieslen and Loveluck 2011). The rural world became dominated by expressions of control over land using local resources, even in coastal locations, and the urban worlds of port towns became the behavioural settings for expressions of wealth derived from trade of finished goods and increasingly global maritime orientation. Indeed, increasing residence in towns on the part of regional aristocrats for significant times in the year may have encouraged differentiated urban and rural lifestyles or ‘personas’ for the same elite households in the different social settings. The use of exotic luxuries, such as silks, may have been more a feature of elite display in an urban context, while ostentatious display in the rural world may have been achieved more through feasting and rituals of control over the landscape, such as hunting. Such distinctions, however, were already blurring by the mid to late tenth century. The occupants of the small mercantile tenements at Coppergate seem to have been involved in wildfowling, and possibly falconry by this time. Both goshawk and sparrowhawk bones were recovered – key hunting birds of the time – in addition to principal prey species, such as cranes, wild geese species, grouse and woodcock. Fish species normally reserved for aristocratic consumption were also present, such as sturgeon (O’Connor 2004, 436–8). Some burgesses of inland burghal towns, like Hereford and Shrewsbury, were obliged to act as drivers for royal hunts in their vicinity, during the eleventh century (Sykes 2010, 184), so it is possible that the Coppergate occupants could have obtained game through a role supporting aristocratic hunts. Yet there is no textual evidence to show that wealthy

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citizens of port towns held such obligations, and it is far more likely that some of the Coppergate residents were hunting, wildfowling and purchasing exotic fish for themselves. The tenements along Coppergate–Ousegate were almost certainly not the town residences of aristocrats – more likely situated in locations such as Stonegate, York. Indeed, Rees Jones has specifically noted that the Coppergate–Ousegate tenements were a preserve of the mercantile elite of York’s population, seemingly from the tenth to the fourteenth centuries, due to their proximity to the principal market area of the city (Rees Jones 2003, 692). Fine metalworkers, such as gold- and silversmiths, like the occupants of some of the Coppergate tenements, were also some of the wealthiest merchant–artisans of tenth- and eleventh-century towns. Some were also moneyers, and both are recorded as having received grants of rural estates from patrons or they purchased them, from the 970s (Coatsworth and Pinder 2002, 214). The likelihood is that these wealthy merchants were already capable of purchasing rural estates during the mid tenth century, and that the signs of falconry and elite food consumption at Coppergate are markers of merchant purchasing power and, potentially, rural landowning, in so far as the wild resources of rural estates could be exploited by their owners without royal restriction, codified in the Laws of Cnut in c. 1018 (Sykes 2010, 184). In such contexts, it becomes difficult to differentiate the rural possessions of merchants, whose wealth was based on trade and manufacturing and whose principal living environment was the town, from those rural estates of aristocrats of middling social rank, whose wealth was based on land and its resources and who increasingly maintained urban houses and estates. Perhaps the main marker indicating that the wealthy Coppergate residents should not be regarded as members of the aristocratic social stratum is their lack of ostentatious residential buildings ‘in town’, compared to presumably more ostentatious town-houses owned by major landowners behind street fronts, in other parts of York.

Merchant patricians, global networks and social change, AD 950–1100 The wealth, relative independence and growing social status of leading merchants becomes particularly apparent in written sources from the later tenth century and early decades of the eleventh. Some of the wealthiest merchants were involved in increasingly global flows of goods and

Ports and merchant patricians as catalysts for change, AD 900–1100

commodities, and they sometimes combined their mercantile activities with roles as public officials, such as moneyers, to the mutual benefit of themselves and their political overlords. By the last quarter of the tenth century, Anglo-Saxon merchants are specifically mentioned trading in Pavia, the principal location for trans-Alpine trade in Ottonian-controlled northern Italy. Merchants from Venice and southern Italian port towns transported luxuries and precious materials, such as spices, silks and gold, derived from the Byzantine and Islamic worlds, along the River Po to Pavia, where they met merchants from northern Europe who traded a range of commodities, from woollen cloth, linen, slaves and horses, to metals such as tin, and weapons. The English merchants, in particular, paid a very heavy annual customs levy, including fifty pounds of silver, weapons and armour. Pamela Nightingale has pointed out that of all the northern merchants, only the English were mentioned specifically, and she speculated that many of the commodities mentioned in the list, such as cloth and tin, may have been particularly sought-after English products (Nightingale 1995, 11–12). The return journey for most of the English merchants at this period was probably the route from the Alps northwards up the Rhine valley, and hence from its delta to eastern England. By c. AD 1000, London was the object of twice-yearly visits by ships of merchants, known as ‘Esterlings’ – easterners, presumed to have been German or Frisian merchants from the Ottonian empire, who paid their port tolls in large quantities of pepper, ultimately from Indonesia or the Malabar coast of India (Robertson 1925, 73; Keay 2006, 108). This reflects the two-way trading flows into southeast England by that date, with Anglo-Saxon merchants actively trading via the Rhine–Alps route, and German, Frisian and Flemish merchants bringing luxury goods via the Meuse–Rhine mouth, and merchants from Normandy (especially Rouen) and the Îlede-France bringing wine and other commodities, with London as the principal target destination for trade. These trading connections with the port of London are documented in statutes of Æthelred the Unready, from the period c. 1000 to 1016 (Robertson 1925), and perhaps give an impression of the pre-eminent role of London in long-distance trade due to their survival, while other major ports must rely on archaeological evidence. Yet there are also archaeological and other textual indications that probably attest to the paramount importance of London as a hub for increasingly global connections by the early eleventh century, as well as the increasing wealth of mercantile elements of society, and their growing self-awareness of being part of an urban collective distinct from the rural world. Excavations of pits and

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cellared buildings on plots fronting on to Milk Street, a north–south lane opening on to the market thoroughfare of Cheapside at its southern terminal (see Figure 33), yielded fragments of three woven silk garments and a silk braid (Pritchard 1984, 47 and 60). One of the garment fragments was patterned and dyed red and blue, with madder and perhaps woad, or another ‘indigo’ colorant (Eastwood and King 1984, 61). The silk fragments from Milk Street mainly date from the end of the tenth century. Further fragments of silk from London are not known prior to the late eleventh and twelfth centuries. The refuse pits and cellared buildings of Milk Street were not the urban dwellings of Anglo-Saxon landed aristocrats, they were plots occupied by mercantile and artisan households, also involved in textile manufacture and woodworking. They also possessed items such as a horn (Thomas 2002), either for musical purposes, or possibly for signalling within mercantile journeys, in the manner of their forebears when travelling through the countryside as ‘outsiders’. The importance of the fragments of silk garments is that they were thrown away in the rubbish of people who do not seem to have been amongst the wealthiest in London at the turn of the eleventh century. Yet these artisans or traders were able to benefit from their role living in a principal hub of long-distance commercial networks, acting as agents for others and for their own benefit, and enjoying lifestyles and apparel beyond that of most of their social equals in the rural world. It is also estimated that by the second decade of the eleventh century, the moneyers of the port and burh of London struck approximately a quarter of all the silver coinage minted in Æthelred’s kingdom of England, based on coin finds (Metcalf 1980, 33). London was the paramount mint in England by this time (Stott 1991, 296). It had not been the most prolific during the tenth century, however, even in the first decades of the reign of Æthelred. There are an increasing number of Danelaw coins or copies of the first half of the tenth century from London, reflecting both exchange links with the major port towns of the Danelaw, especially Lincoln and York, and also the economic vibrancy of the Scandinavian-influenced centres (Stott 1991, 289–91). Only with the minting of the last of Æthelred’s silver coinages (the last ‘small cross’ pennies) did London become the paramount mint, by c. 1010. Stott attributed this dominance and increased output to two factors: firstly, the need to mint coinage on a huge scale to pay Danegeld tributes to prevent Danish attack, and secondly, the established pre-eminence of London as the principal trading port of the country (Stott 1991, 296–7). The fact that many coins of this last ‘small cross’ issue were used and discarded in London contrasts with their very limited

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discard in major Danelaw towns, such as Lincoln and York, even though large numbers of the issue minted in Lincoln have been found in Scandinavia. The implication is that these coins issued from the northern mints were taken out of circulation, while the number of coins struck in London and its economic importance were such that more silver stayed in circulation in that port. Nightingale has also made the important observation that the silver to mint the vast regulated coinage of the later tenth and early eleventh centuries had to be imported as a by-product of seaborne trade by merchants. Much of that silver to fund the hugely increased output of English mints was probably derived ultimately from the silver mines of the Harz Mountains in the German Ottonian empire from the 970s and 980s, and was probably obtained mainly through the trading corridor of the Rhine valley and Alpine passes in this period (Spufford 1988; Nightingale 1995, 7–9). Given the scale of the coinage issued in this period, the scale of the export of commodities from England by seafaring merchants from their port bases must have been equally significant. The ability of London merchants to benefit through that long-distance trade is probably reflected in the Milk Street silk garment fragments, which were thrown away in rubbish deposits, and the general economic vibrancy of the port and burh may also be reflected in the increased discard of coinage in the first decades of the eleventh century (Vince 1990; Stott 1991, 296). Even the diversity and exotic nature of aspects of the diet of the urban mercantile populace point to their ability to benefit from their far-flung networks. The occupants of Milk Street were eating figs and grapes in the later tenth and eleventh centuries (Jones, Straker and Davis 1991, 353). The risks of mercantile life and seafaring by a proportion of the London population, and the necessity to carry and use arms in those pursuits, also gave its inhabitants a martial reputation. That population and military experience was used to good effect in the repulse of the Danish royal army of Cnut, primarily by the citizens of London in 1016, reflecting not only a large population but perhaps also an increasing sense of a distinct urban collective identity, founded on commerce in alliance with state interests, resulting in social status for some merchants and artisans equivalent to the landed aristocracy. Indeed, the early eleventh-century treatise on status, the Geþyncðo, in the Textus Roffensis, enshrines in Anglo-Saxon law the social mobility enabled through seafaring mercantile ventures. When a trader returned to England having crossed the sea three times (in directions unspecified) on self-financed trading voyages, he would be given the rank of thegn – the equivalent of a landed aristocrat of local or regional

Ports and merchant patricians as catalysts for change, AD 900–1100

importance (Whitelock 1955, 432). The commodities brought back by these seafaring merchants are also described by Ælfric, in his Colloquy, also written in the reign of Æthelred, at the monastery at Eynsham, further up the Thames valley from London. Ælfric’s ‘typical’ merchant was a seafarer who traded in gold, jewels, purple cloth, silks, unusual clothes, spices, wine, oil, ivory, bronze, copper, tin, sulphur and glass, among other things (Swanton 1975, 173). Also enshrined explicitly in this colloquy is the motivation for the risk-laden sea voyages, namely profit. The list of imports in Ælfric’s list is also instructive of the potential representativity of archaeological evidence from both urban and rural deposits. As discussed in Chapter 11, gold artefacts are very rarely found in archaeological deposits from England after the later seventh century. Yet gold artefacts and gold coinage are frequently mentioned in Anglo-Saxon wills of the tenth and eleventh centuries, and gold was a principal medium used to purchase land in later Anglo-Saxon England (Whitelock 1930; Nightingale 1995, 10; Tollerton 2011). Its absence reflects the fact that the gold was kept in circulation, and not discarded, and so too the jewels. Similarly, exotics such as silks and other clothes were either curated or kept in circulation or a lack of waterlogged preservation conditions have not aided their survival. Spices, wine and oil would have been consumed and are rarely encountered in archaeological deposits; and the metals and sulphur would have been fabricated into other objects. Only the ivory and glass vessels are less perishable, and are more often encountered in archaeological deposits or as curated items in ecclesiastical treasuries or other collections. There is no reason to doubt, however, that these commodities entered England, sometimes in considerable quantities, during the later tenth and eleventh centuries, and that major ports like London, York and Norwich were their places of entry. The Ælfric list also points to Anglo-Saxon merchants of the later tenth and early eleventh centuries being integrated within multiple north–south and east–west networks, some of which have been elucidated by recent textual research and archaeological discoveries. By this period, walrus ivory was almost exclusively used in England and was procured via trade links with Arctic Norway, and the numerous walrus ivory artefacts from tenthand eleventh-century Anglo-Saxon England attest to its popularity among leaders in society, from ecclesiastical ornaments for prelates to seals of office for shire-reeves, at their burghal centres (Wilson 1984; see Chapter 14). The copper, like the silver, was imported from the Harz Mountains of Germany, indicated by trace metal analysis (Spufford 1988; Hinton 1990). All these commodities may have been procured from major maritime and

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river ports, between Normandy and the Rhine. Rouen has been suggested as a focus for the importation of walrus ivory, although it was probably imported via links with Scandinavia through the ports of eastern England too; and the production of ivory artefacts, especially gaming pieces, certainly appears to have been an urban activity, just as ports and seafarers were probably the conduits for transmission of new leisure pastimes (see Chapter 11). Wine was certainly imported via Rouen, and spices, silks, oils and gold were certainly obtained via the Rhine–Alps route. Importation of such goods both via the Rhine valley route and from Normandy, during the tenth and eleventh centuries, could well be reflected indirectly by the quantities of Paffrath- and Pingsdorf-type ware pottery from the Meuse and Middle Rhine valleys, and Norman and northern French wares from London (Vince 1991, 100–2 and 106–9). The quantities and the range of exports from the Islamic and Byzantine Mediterranean available at key river ports and towns of the Rhineland, Flanders and northern France should not be underestimated for the period between the mid and late tenth century. For example, Ibn Yaqub noted the abundant spices, silks and Islamic coinage present at Mainz (Lewis 2001); and the monastery of Corbie (Somme) was able to buy 120 pounds of pepper and cinnamon and 70 pounds of ginger from the nearby town of Cambrai (Nightingale 1995, 6). By the tenth century, however, another trading route enabling the procurement of the luxuries of the Far East, Africa and the Islamic Mediterranean had been developed along the Atlantic coast of northwest Europe from Spain to the Bay of Biscay, and hence to Britain, Ireland and northern France, facilitated primarily via the major port towns of London, Rouen and Dublin. This maritime communication axis had been used from at least the seventh century by Irish, British and Anglo-Saxon seafaring merchants. Frisian, Anglo-Saxon and Scandinavian mariners operating as traders and raiders in the Bay of Biscay are also suggested by ninthcentury coin hoards largely consisting of issues from Aquitanian mints in Frisia, and by finds of ninth- and tenth-century Anglo-Saxon and Scandinavian types of weapons from the riverside port at Taillebourg, on the River Charente (Chapelot 2012; see Chapter 9). Small numbers of silver dirhem coins, minted at Córdoba between the late eighth and mid ninth century, also began to be deposited on the French Atlantic coast, in the hinterland of the estuarine zones of the Charente and Loire (Clément 2008, 160–1). They could reflect the vibrancy of Atlantic maritime trade routes between the Bay of Biscay and Spain by this time, possibly in commodities such as salt and slaves. Scandinavian fleets had also attacked Seville, Lisbon

Ports and merchant patricians as catalysts for change, AD 900–1100

and even the coast of north Africa in the mid ninth century, where they had ransomed several north African princesses for a vast ransom of dirhems, so the presence of these coins could also be explained as a result of Scandinavian raiding and trading along the Atlantic coast (MazzoliGuintard 1996, 28–9; Clément 2008, 161). Slave-trading with Islamic Iberia was an even more lucrative venture for Scandinavians and other traders operating from ports in Ireland, and especially Rouen in Normandy, during the tenth and eleventh centuries. The silk fragments from tenthcentury Dublin could have been procured via maritime networks with Islamic Iberia as easily as via links with the Baltic. Nevertheless, the small quantity of tenth-century Islamic coinage from Ireland is almost entirely from central Asian mints, suggesting predominantly Baltic links for its procurement (Clément 2008, 180). From the mid tenth century, at the latest, gold from Mali was being exported northwards across the Sahara to the Mediterranean coast, in the form of cast pellets (Nixon, Rehren and Guerra 2011, 1356–7), where some of the gold was used to strike the gold dinar coinage of the Shi’ite Fatimid Caliphate of North Africa and Egypt. A significant proportion of the gold was also traded with merchants from the Islamic Caliphate of Al-Andalus. During the later tenth century, Christian (Mozarabic) and Jewish merchants from Al-Andalus acted as agents for the funnelling of gold, spices and silks northwards, together with Arabic numerals and technologies, such as the abacus and astrolabe (see Chapter 11), to the Kingdoms of León–Castile and Aragon and the Catalan counties. These were further augmented by the profits of Christian mercenary payments and tribute paid in gold during the early decades of the eleventh century. From the early eleventh century, textual and topographical evidence from London also demonstrates the involvement of London merchants in the exchange of gold, spices, silks and other luxuries from the Islamic Mediterranean, funnelled through the Christian kingdoms of northern Spain, facing the Bay of Biscay. One family of London moneyers, in particular, provides a hint as to the origins and importance of trade through northern Spain. From evidence of moneyers’ names and fragmentary textual evidence from the early twelfth century, Nightingale has managed to reconstruct convincingly the biography of a family of moneyers, founded by a man called Deorman, working in London from the early eleventh to the mid twelfth century, which survived and prospered despite changes in rulers from the West Saxon dynasty to that of Cnut and that of William of Normandy (Nightingale 1982). Their survival resulted from the maintenance of the West Saxon

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governmental structures relating to coinage throughout the eleventh century. The holding of the office of moneyer acquired significant social standing, and many moneyers were also successful merchants, either prior to becoming moneyers or subsequently, since the office required experience of working with foreigners and foreign coinage, which they changed and melted down, and struck afresh (Nightingale 1995, 24–5). Goldsmiths also served a similar role, and some were also moneyers. There appear to have been successive moneyers called Deorman, possibly father, son and grandson, striking coinage in London between c. 1000 and 1060, in the reigns of Æthelred, Harold Harefoot and Edward the Confessor. The Deorman minting coins up until 1059 was then promoted to the office of overseer (a minister) of mint workshops, and he was also granted landed estates from Edward the Confessor in Essex and Hertfordshire, which were also confirmed by William the Conqueror, noted in the Domesday survey. Four of his sons were also London moneyers: one of them – Walter – was an Alderman of the city, an urban patrician holding office on the nascent urban corporation; another was also called Deorman, who was also a merchant in spices, silks and other exotica, and he was noted as the hereditary owner of the church of St Antonin, on Watling Street (earlier known as Ætheling Street) in 1119, probably the principal east–west thoroughfare of the late ninth-century burh, prior to the development of Cheapside. It was also located directly to the north of the early eleventhcentury harbour of Queenhithe (Æthelredhythe), and was, therefore, in the heart of tenth- and eleventh-century London (see Figure 33) (Nightingale 1995, 26–8; Milne 2003). The proprietorial church of St Antonin was possibly built by the Deorman of Domesday. It later became the guild church of the pepperers. Its dedication to St Antonin is derived from the Syrian St Antoninus, and the Saint’s Day celebrated by the pepperers’ guild was 18 May, the date of a feast commemorating the transfer of some of the saint’s relics from Pamiers in southern France to Palencia, near Burgos, in northern Spain, before 1035 (Nightingale 1995, 36–7). Northern Spain was awash with gold, spices, silks and oil from Al-Andalus by the early eleventh century, and the unique link with northern Spain in the dedication to St Antonin may reflect the growing importance of trade with Atlantic Spain, as both a foundation for the wealth of the Deorman family and a principal axis of trade for the pepperers’ guild of merchants, whose main trading quarter grew up in the area around Watling Street and the church of St Antonin. The ward of the town around St Antonin’s church was also bordered by the street that became known as Cordwainer Street by 1120, again reflecting a Spanish link, with a

Ports and merchant patricians as catalysts for change, AD 900–1100

concentration of merchants dealing in leather goods from Córdoba (Nightingale 1995, 39). The trade route with Atlantic Spain and its importance seem to have developed in scale significantly during the course of the later tenth and eleventh centuries. Yet the archaeological evidence of English goods in tenth- to twelfth-century northern Spain is very rare. Only a hoard of English silver pennies is known, dating from the end of the tenth century, found on the pass crossing the Pyrenees at Roncesvalles (Nightingale 1995, 37). However, English pilgrims and merchants had a much greater textual visibility in northern Spain by the twelfth century. They included pilgrims travelling to Santiago de Compostela and merchants selling cloth and other goods at Compostela and Burgos (Nightingale 1995, 39). English pirates are also recorded as having been captured on the coast of Galicia in c. 1111, and only the intervention of the Bishop of Compostela prevented their sale as slaves (Verlinden 1955, 147–8). The Moroccan-born geographer Al-Idrisi, working at the court of the Norman King Roger II of Sicily, in the mid twelfth century, also described the Bay of Biscay as the ‘Sea of the English’ in his work the Nuzhat al-mushtāq (Entertainment for He who Longs to Travel the World/The Book of Roger), finished in c. 1154 (Jaubert 1836–40, 231; Johns and Savage-Smith 2003, 13–14). Al-Idrisi had been educated at Córdoba and had travelled widely in Spain, along the southern coast of France, and had visited England prior to his arrival in Sicily in c. 1138 (Maqbul Ahmad 1992, 156). Hence, the knowledge possessed by Al-Idrisi of English links with Spain via the Bay of Biscay during the first half of the twelfth century was probably gained through personal experience. Indeed, the importance of the Atlantic route to Spain as an axis of trade by the second half of the eleventh century now seems beyond doubt. Some archaeological finds from London from the end of the tenth to the early twelfth century attest to its importance. The silks from Milk Street may have been imported from Spain, but more certain Spanish imports were the figs eaten on the site, and also the red pigment vermilion, made from mercury sulphide, found on two oyster shells used as mixing palettes from refuse pits close to the pepperers’ and cordwainers’ quarter in the west of the city (Jones, Straker and Davis 1991, 353; Pritchard 1991, 170). The importance of the vermilion as an indicator of Spanish trade rests on the fact that the nearest source of mercury ore (cinnabar) to England was northern Spain. Interestingly, Pritchard alludes to the growing popularity in the use of the bright red vermilion for manuscript illumination from the 1130s, especially influenced by the illuminations of Master Hugo in the ‘Bury Bible’, produced at the monastery and growing town of Bury

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St Edmunds (Suffolk) in the 1130s (Pritchard 1991, 170). By coincidence, Deorman the owner of the church of St Antonin and the spice and silk merchant was trading at the fair held at Bury from the 1120s, and in the 1140s he was to become a monk himself at the monastery, renouncing the commercial world (Nightingale 1995, 29–30). Given the links between Deorman and Bury, it is tempting to suggest that he may have supplied the Spanish products that produced the vermilion. By the early to mid twelfth century, the importance of the maritime trade route crossing the Bay of Biscay, bringing luxury commodities and precious metals into northwest Europe, is even more demonstrably apparent archaeologically. Along the Atlantic coast of France from the Gironde estuary to Brittany and Normandy, there is a growing pattern of significant discard of gold coinage, minted in North Africa and southern Spain by the Fatimid, Almoravid and Almohad rulers of the later eleventh and twelfth centuries, indicating the vibrancy of Spanish trade, just as the existence of a cordwainers’ guild at Rouen in the later eleventh century attests to its importance (Nightingale 1995, 39; Clément 2008, 161–2), along with the well-established Jewish community that specialised in trade in slaves and luxuries from Spain. The Flemings were also selling cloth in Spain and bringing back luxuries to the growing ports of Ghent and Bruges by the twelfth century. Indeed, the archaeological evidence, in the form of coinage or pottery from Normandy and Flanders regularly encountered in eleventh- and early twelfth-century deposits from ports like Southampton and London, could also reflect indirectly Norman and Flemish importation of spices and silks, alongside wine and cloth, into southern England without the necessity for direct contact with Spain by English merchants (Platt 1973, 21–2; Dolley 1975, 326–7; Vince 1991, 104–9; Stott 1991, 320). Yet both textual evidence, and to a lesser extent archaeological evidence, now demonstrate the importance of direct English maritime trade with northern Spain and the Bay of Biscay by the eleventh and early twelfth centuries at the latest. The fact that silks and other exotic products have not yet been recovered from deposits of these dates in important ports, such as Southampton, which later had a leading role in the wine trade from Gascony in western France, and also Spanish links, is probably a reflection of the paramount importance of Rouen and the Seine valley in providing southern England with wine, prior to the early thirteenth century. Only after that date did Gascony replace Normandy as the main source of wine for England. Saintonge-ware pottery from western France rode ‘piggyback’ on that Gascon wine trade, and was only abundant in ports like Southampton after 1200 (Brown 2002, 130).

Ports and merchant patricians as catalysts for change, AD 900–1100

By the 1150s, the pipe rolls of Henry II show that Spain was the main exporter of silk bought in London (Nightingale 1995, 39). Indeed, the importance of the Atlantic trade with Iberia to the English and the designation of the Bay of Biscay as the ‘Sea of the English’ by Al-Idrisi helps explain the readiness of the seafaring and ship-owning merchants of major southern English ports, including Southampton, Bristol and Ipswich, to take such a prominent part in the ship-borne conquest of Lisbon, in 1147, during the Second Crusade. Both the English and Norman contingents were notable for not being led by the landed nobility – a matter that created some tension with the Flemish, French and German contingents (Bennett 2001, 73–6). The regularity with which English, Flemish and western French seafarers frequented the Atlantic seaways very much contrasts the evidence for their presence in the Mediterranean, which became increasingly dominated by the merchant fleets of the Italian maritime cities of Venice, Genoa and Pisa from the end of the eleventh century. English mariners had enough familiarity with the Mediterranean, however, to provide a small fleet which resupplied the armies of the First Crusade at the siege of Antioch in March 1098, having transported building materials, artisans and other supplies across the Mediterranean, and moored at the port of St Simeon, on the Syrian coast (Asbridge 2010, 69). Between the later tenth and early twelfth centuries, it was this early medieval ‘global’ maritime perspective that set the major port towns and their societies apart from those towns that acted as central places for regional land-based territories and the ‘countryside’, along with the diversity and size of their populations. The archaeological record increasingly attests to the global connections of major port hubs, and their multi-ethnic worlds, including adoption of multiple affiliations and tastes on the part of the port inhabitants. In London and York, dress accessories worn by the mercantile populations attest to the wearing of brooch types and styles of decoration from Germany and the Low Countries, as well as England and Scandinavia, and they had access to clothes, foodstuffs and exotic colours in the urban world of ports far beyond people of equivalent social rank in rural areas. The major ports became unprecedented theatres of social competition between increasingly wealthy independent merchants and the landed aristocracy who increasingly maintained urban estates and residences, and who patronised their own artisans and merchants. Social mobility and the power of portable wealth also became enshrined in law in England by the turn of the eleventh century, with successful merchants able to attain the rank of thegn, a landed lord. Indeed, independent

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merchants purchased landed estates in the hinterland of ports, or were given estates in the countryside as a partial reward for serving in governmental offices, and they also increasingly attained leading roles in civic administration by the later eleventh and early twelfth centuries. Moneyers, especially, and also goldsmiths attained leading positions in urban mercantile societies of major port cities, benefitting from their own entrepreneurial activities as merchants and their official privileges, such as exemption from paying taxation or giving labour dues, in the case of moneyers, whether in London, Winchester, Lincoln or York (Blackburn 2004, 342). The families of leading merchants, including the women, also became urban landowners in their own right, as the female relatives of Deorman, the moneyer and spice merchant of London and later monk of Bury, illustrate. Three of his aunts gave land to Westminster Abbey in the early twelfth century (Nightingale 1995, 29). Merchants also paid and endowed their own urban churches, which in the case of Deorman’s church of St Antonin became the guild church of the London pepperers. In the gaining of social status for leading merchant families, however, it is the holding of public offices and alliance with ruling, landed political power that appears to have been critical, in addition to their amassing of portable wealth. By the reign of Edward the Confessor, it had become obligatory for town citizens (burgesses), even independent merchants, to become the clients of leading landed aristocrats in England, many of whom also held estates within the same towns. Yet, like the freemen and sokemen of the countryside, the independent merchants and artisans not holding the rank of thegn had the freedom, in England, to change lords at their will. The extent of mercantile independence in port towns, and association with leading aristocrats by choice is quite startling. Fleming noted that all but 36 of the 943 burgesses (each with a family) at the river port of Thetford (Norfolk) could ally themselves with whatever lord they pleased in 1066. The Godwinsons held many mercantile dependents in London, and they proved more loyal to Godwin and his sons than Edward the Confessor, in the unrest of 1050–2, providing a fleet and an armed following to counter that of Edward on the Thames (Fleming 1993, 9–10). Eventually, Godwin and his sons took refuge in another growing port town at Bruges, in Flanders, prior to their restoration to favour (Barlow 2002). The developmental trajectory of increasing independence on the part of seafaring merchant citizens from major ports in England and Normandy, their increasing wealth, status as civic and royal officers, and their growing willingness to play a political role in alliance with leading aristocrats reached its culmination when they themselves provided the

Ports and merchant patricians as catalysts for change, AD 900–1100

Anglo-Norman contingent in the amphibious attack on Lisbon in 1147, without landed nobles – an act that marked their arrival as a political force in northwest Europe. It is also from the early to mid twelfth century that one can observe the addition of monumental stone town houses, built by merchants in leading maritime and river ports, such as London, especially in the commercial heart of the city, from Milk Street and Cheapside to the Queenhithe waterfront (Schofield 1995, 32); Ghent (Laleman and Raveschot 1994) and Bristol (Boore 1984); and from the mid to late twelfth century predominantly at other major ports, such as Southampton and Norwich (Platt and Coleman Smith 1975a; Schofield 1995, 32). These private residences augmented the churches they had founded in the eleventh century. This phenomenon signalled the security of displaying private, mercantile and civic power in port townscapes by the second half of the twelfth century. Mercantile wealth and influence had developed often in alliance with governmental authority in the tenth and eleventh centuries. Yet that increasing wealth was not expressed in monumental residential structures in townscapes until the social status of leading merchants and civic officials had caught up with their material wealth, between 1100 and 1150, when commerce had become more socially respectable and merchants themselves had often become both urban and rural landowners. By the 1170s, the son of one Norman immigrant merchant from London was respectable enough to become the Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Becket. He too had risen in close alliance with royal government through office-holding, having been the Chancellor of Henry II (Guy 2012, 2–5).

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AD 900–1150

The diversity of towns and urban growth in northwest Europe, AD 900–1150

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Two of the principal catalysts for the development of wealthy seafaring merchants and artisans at the major port towns of the tenth to twelfth centuries were their proximity to aristocratic patrons, both secular and ecclesiastical, and the growing need for the rural population in their hinterlands to travel ‘to town’ to procure services from craft specialists who had often been patronised at rural centres, between the seventh and ninth centuries, but who from the tenth century resided mainly in urban centres. Major port towns were also the principal destinations where exotic clothing, spices and other precious materials could be procured by landed aristocrats. Hence, they too had to travel to town to buy these materials from merchants. Yet the rise of seafaring merchant and civic patricians as key social and political actors also seems to have been inextricably linked to alliance with ruling political authorities, often by office-holding, supporting the governmental and economic infrastructure of kingdoms and principalities. As a consequence, it is difficult to decide whether the presence of administrative authorities within major towns provided the stimulus to the concentration of specialist production and trade on key port towns, linked to administered markets, or whether their wealth as patrons encouraged merchant and artisan relocation, as a more market-led phenomenon. Population growth and the aggregate growth in the size of the ‘economy’ as a whole must also have been a significant stimulus to trade. There were huge incentives for landed rulers and merchants to cooperate for their mutual benefit. The latter often had a direct interest in long-distance maritime trade and possessed their own ships. Hence, if they were mistreated by landed aristocrats, they could relocate to other port towns, in different polities. Merchants also provided the bullion for the minting of coinage, essential to the operation of taxation and trading infrastructure; and rulers provided a secure environment for trade and the protection of merchant families, when leading men of their households were voyaging away from their home ports. In reality both governmental

Towns as regional centres and urban diversity, AD 900–1150

and market-led influences probably led to the definitive establishment of the ‘town and countryside’ trading relationship of the central Middle Ages, whose heritage has lasted down to the modern era. The major port towns were key administrative towns in their respective principalities. Rouen was the principal governmental centre of Normandy, with the key symbol of ducal power by the mid eleventh century, in the form of the donjon of William the Conqueror. The river port of Paris was to overtake Compiègne and Orléans as the principal administrative town of the kings of France from the eleventh century. The river ports of Bruges and Ghent also held key symbols of the authority of the Counts of Flanders from the tenth and eleventh centuries respectively. The rotunda church of St Donatus, emulating those at Aachen and Compiègne, was located within the fortified comital residence at Bruges from the early to mid tenth century; and the donjon and castle in Ghent replaced an earlier comital residence by the mid eleventh century (see Chapter 10). Similarly, in England, York was also a ‘capital’ for a kingdom focussed on it between the late ninth and mid tenth century, and it continued to be the administrative and economic heart of the Yorkshire ridings throughout the Middle Ages. Only London was not a principal administrative centre prior to the late twelfth century. However, it was undoubtedly the paramount economic and wealth-generating centre of the kingdom of England from the early eleventh century onwards. It was to gradually accrue administrative and fiscal functions from Winchester to become the capital city of England by the end of the twelfth century. Perhaps the strength and relative independence of the mercantile citizens of London discouraged the eleventh-century kings of England, West Saxon, Danish and Norman, from moving the apparatus of royal government from the ‘safe’ old West Saxon royal and ecclesiastical centre at Winchester to the more volatile commercial centre in London. Cnut and Edward the Confessor seem to have based a substantial number of lithsmen – the standing navy – in London, to both protect and police it; while Edward’s principal symbol of ruling authority was sited to the west of the city at his abbey of Westminster, at the time of his death in 1065. William the Conqueror made a more ostentatious show of power, after he had been obliged to fight a second battle in 1066, outside London, to quell its citizenry. He constructed a large earth and timber ring-work castle, to the west of St Paul’s Cathedral, and began the construction of the Tower of London at the southeast extremity of the Roman walled circuit, as his principal symbol of power, directly modelled on the donjon at Rouen (Impey 2008; see Chapter 10). It was finished by his son, William II Rufus, who also built Westminster Palace in stone at the Abbey, to provide twin

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poles of Norman royal power (Thomas 2002; Blair 2003). Yet the commercial heart of London was not physically damaged. It was too valuable to the state, and disruption to the townscape in London was markedly less than in Winchester, where the royal castle demolished a significant proportion of the formerly occupied town. The growth of major port towns in the tenth and eleventh centuries as centres of government, patronage and commerce was a direct and relatively rapid consequence of the cooperation between the landed rulers and the mercantile element of northwest European societies. Yet the same dynamism and growth did not always occur as quickly at other central places of this period, whether they were long-established or new administrative foci for linked regional territories. In other instances, key secular and episcopal rural estate or palace centres and monasteries formed sufficient concentrations of wealth, power and patronage to encourage urban growth around the elite settlement kernals, between the tenth and twelfth centuries. They attracted artisan and merchant populations, in addition to their agricultural workers, which set them on a trajectory to become towns, with populations designated judicially as town-citizens (burgesses or burgenses). In other instances, small port towns were established and patronised through lordly initiative on the coasts of their rural estates by kings and major ecclesiastical and secular magnates, from the eleventh century onwards. By the early twelfth century, both the rulers of states and their landholding aristocracies were also making use of the judicial concept of the town (as a borough, burgus or bourg), to convey urban status and privileges on otherwise rural villages, using the greater freedoms of the burgess town-dweller to attract farming communities, artisans and merchants to dangerous newly conquered territories or border regions. Between the tenth and early twelfth centuries, therefore, a wide diversity of central places called towns emerged, with very different archaeological manifestations, varied social fabrics and different relationships with their surrounding rural hinterlands. This chapter explores the nature of those different urban societies and how they meshed together in an urban hierarchy that culminated with the principal administrative and port cities at its apex.

Towns as regional central places in West Francia, AD 900–1150 The walled episcopal centres and the linked settlement elements beyond their ramparts had remained central places in West Francia since the fifth century. In some instances the named central places linked to episcopal

Towns as regional centres and urban diversity, AD 900–1150

sees moved, for example, the Bishops of Tongres moved the seat of their diocese to the walled castellum at Maastricht, during the sixth century; and Charlemagne, in alliance with the papacy, used the monastery of Staffelsee as the seat of the Bishops of Bavaria for a brief period, prior to its move to Augsburg, at the beginning of the ninth century (see Chapter 8). Yet, in the majority of cases, episcopal centres remained very stable, and in many cases their central functions as places from which dioceses were administered were augmented by secular functions performed by counts, responsible for royal government and administration of justice for the surrounding pagi and county territories. Hence, in West Francia, the tradition of rural regions being governed from central places, based in former Roman townscapes, had never ended. The archaeological and textual evidence from towns like Paris, Tours, Orléans and Rouen suggests that these settlements possessed significant populations, in addition to the leading secular and ecclesiastical inhabitants, both within and beyond their Late Roman walled areas, between the sixth and ninth centuries (see Chapter 8). Indeed, given their array of central functions and the growing evidence of diverse populations involved in artisan, mercantile and agricultural activities, they should probably be described as towns, during these centuries. Archaeological and textual evidence shows that these centres continued to be occupied, despite sack or siege by Scandinavians, between the mid and late ninth century. By the end of the ninth century, many had refurbished walls, as at Rheims and Tours, and there were also fortified bridges defending the Île-de-la-Cité in Paris. Between the eighth and tenth centuries, however, other settlements in northern France and Belgium that had not been Roman administrative centres, such as Compiègne and Liège, also developed into major settlements that merit the description ‘town’. Compiègne developed primarily from its status as the most frequented royal/imperial centre by Charles the Bald, with its palace, rotunda church, other settlement elements, mint and market (Coste 2000, 26; see Chapter 6). Despite elements of the settlement at Compiègne having been fortified by 877, when the settlement is described as a castellum, the palace was destroyed in a raid by Scandinavians in the early tenth century. As the most symbolic settlement of Carolingian imperial ‘persona’ in West Francia, and the principal administrative town of the later Carolingian kings, it was also captured and ransacked by Otto II, as a reprisal for a raid by the West Frankish king, Lothar, on the Ottonian imperial palace and settlement of Aachen, in the mid tenth century (Petitjean 1999a, 157). Archaeological excavations show that during the tenth century the extent

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of the occupied area around the palace and ecclesiastical foci grew significantly, with a degree of superimposition and density in the use of occupied space typical of a town (Petitjean 1999a, 157). In terms of the relationship between towns and administrative territories, however, Compiègne was the principal seat of royal/imperial government in West Francia, from the mid ninth to mid tenth century, without being part of the administrative infrastructure inherited from the Roman period. Liège, like Compiègne, also developed from a rural estate centre but was a possession of the Bishops of Maastricht. By the end of the eighth century, it possessed three churches and a bishop’s palace, and was a Carolingian royal mint by the reign of Charlemagne. It was described as a vicus publicus by 770 and was the chief administrative and cult centre of the Diocese of Tongres–Maastricht–Liège from the end of the eighth century. Further expansion occurred at the end of the tenth century, when the bishops, under Ottonian suzerainity, embarked on a programme to renew the monumental core of the settlement, building a new cathedral church, bishop’s palace and also town ramparts (Henrard and Léotard 2011, 52). In the case of Liège, the diocese remained constant, while its administrative settlement shifted from centre to centre. Between the tenth and mid eleventh centuries, most of the major diocesan towns expanded, in terms of both the extent and intensity of activity within their Late Roman walled circuits and in the areas beyond their walls, with new suburbs also developing. This general growth of towns across West Francia seems to have been a consequence of several phenomena. There was a general continuity of the existing Carolingian governmental and economic infrastructure within diocesan towns, including continuity of their roles as mints and nodes for exchange for their surrounding regions. When there had been an interruption to minting activity in the later ninth and early tenth centuries due to Scandinavian raiding, striking of coinage usually recommenced from the existing Carolingian diocesan towns. The mint at Rouen began striking coinage again in the 930s, under the Norman Count/Duke William Longsword (Le Maho 1993, 29). The quantities of silver coinage minted decreased over much of the tenth century, however, until silver from the Harz Mountains became available, and the weights and silver content of the coinages fluctuated more than in tenth-century England (Spufford 1988). Nevertheless, the break-up of the West Frankish kingdom into territorial principalities, based on enlarged Carolingian counties or groups of them, also produced new regional rulers whose key centres of government and patronage were usually existing diocesan and comital central places. As a consequence, the

Towns as regional centres and urban diversity, AD 900–1150

main administrative centres of the new territorial principalities provided the principal cores for significant urban growth, with their combined patronage from new regional rulers, ecclesiastical prelates and major monastic communities. They also gained from inward flows of taxation and tithes from rural estates, in addition to immigration of people from the countryside (Bartlett 1993; Dutour 2003). These multiple foci of patronage and power then attracted rural produce for sale in their markets, and artisans and merchants to provide for their everyday and luxury needs. In many cases, merchant communities already existed at major diocesan towns but the additional governmental functions and the spending power exercised due to the regular presence of new regional rulers encouraged a further gravitational pull on mercantile and peasant populations towards the growing towns. The numbers of urban inhabitants were then swelled periodically by seasonal fairs, by those seeking justice and by pilgrims, if a monastic or episcopal focus held the relics of a pre-eminent saint. Most towns used as principal residences by the regional rulers of tenth- and eleventh-century West Francia were also located on major river communication corridors, which meant they possessed portus trading settlements and were already thoroughfares for staple commodities, such as salt and wine, and also exotic luxuries. The transport of these goods was taxed as seagoing, coastal or river craft passed through the towns. Due to campaigns of research-led and rescue excavation conducted since the 1970s, and the work of the Centre National d’Archéologie Urbaine, founded by Henri Galinié, it is possible to observe an increased archaeological and topographical imprint of regional rulers within the major diocesan centres from the mid tenth century onwards. From that time, regional rulers expanded existing comital or royal residences within the walled areas of diocesan towns to create more permanent and emphatic poles of secular patronage, in addition to those of episcopal authorities. For example, at Angers, from the mid tenth century there was a hall (aula) of the emerging Counts of Anjou, later known as the Count’s hall, located within the southwest corner of the Late Roman walled circuit. At the other end of the walled area, at its eastern extremity was the existing cathedral of St Maurice and the palace of the bishop. Between the two poles there is textual evidence of occupation within the walled area, including mention of several stone houses, already in the tenth century (Comte and Siraudeau 1990, 35). The enclosed area seems to have been extended by the mid tenth century, with a burgus Andecavensis – presumably a mercantile community – noted

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from 924. And the suburban area to the south of the Late Roman walled area was also occupied, with several churches, and was known as the suburbium civitas. To the south of this suburb was the monastery of St Aubin, which founded its own burgus of artisans and merchants in 976. Hence, the topographical and textual evidence points to very significant growth and diversification of the population of Angers through the tenth century, thanks in large degree to its comital, episcopal and monastic patrons and general demographic growth (Comte and Siraudeau 1990, 35–6). Angers is sited on the banks of the River Maine, at a major bridge crossing, which had been maintained throughout the early Middle Ages. Two port landing places and market places were located above and below the bridge, between the river and the Roman walled area. By the late eleventh century, the ports were named specifically as the ‘Wheat Port’ and the ‘Wood Port’, reflecting the importance of the provisioning of food and construction materials in bulk to growing towns, although the ports and their extramural markets were also noted for mercantile trade in luxury goods – spices and silks – by the mid twelfth century (Comte and Siraudeau 1990, 37). Between 1028 and 1039, the wooden bridge across the Maine was rebuilt in stone by Count Fulk Nerra, and he founded two monasteries on the northern bank, those of St Nicholas and Ronceray, linked to the new stone bridge by a road known as the Via triumphalis from this time (Comte and Siraudeau 1990, 37). The reconstruction of the bridge spanning the Maine in stone and the naming of the road from the city to the monastery of St Nicholas (and hence to Nantes), can be seen as part of the same strategy followed by Fulk in relation to his construction of Romanesque donjons and his deliberate use of the Roman title of Consul (Bachrach 1993). His physical and ritual back-referencing of Roman authority directly was a legitimisation strategy to support the growing power of his dynasty, independent of the new Kings of France and the Ottonian/Salian German Emperors. The interest of rulers in stamping their authority on their principal townscapes, through constructing planned routeways and infrastructure, was also mirrored by the Dukes of Normandy. The grid-based street system of Rouen seems to have been laid out as one event, between the 930s and 940s, by Duke William Longsword, in whose reign the Rouen mint was also restored (see Figure 32, Chapter 13) (Le Maho 1993, 29). It respected and circumvented the cathedral churches. At an unspecified time in the tenth century, one of these newly built streets to the west of the cathedral became the urban quarter where a community of Jewish

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merchants settled under ducal protection (Gauthiez 1993, 16). The wealth of that community is reflected in the stone synagogue of the late eleventh to early twelfth centuries, 14 m by 9.5 m in dimensions (Hillaby 2003, 16). That mercantile community played a leading role in trade with Iberia, in slaves and other commodities, and was the community that provided the first recorded Jews to settle in England, in the city of London, under the protection of William the Conqueror. It is possible that the ducal replanning of the street system within the Late Roman walled area, the restoration of the mint and possibly the foundation of the Jewish trading community at Rouen was all part of ducal strategy to stimulate the growth of the urban economy through trade, and hence raise tax and toll revenue. The model for intentional replanning and stimulation of town development by the Norman dukes from the 930s may have been taken from the contemporary activities of the West Saxon kings of the newly created Kingdom of England, across the Channel. Lorans has drawn attention to parallels between the replanned street system at Rouen and the foundation of burghal central places in England, from the end of the ninth century (Lorans 2007, 86–90). The model for Rouen, however, may more plausibly have been the developed burhs, with their mints, markets, street systems and linked shire rural territories from the reign of Æthelstan, in the 920s and 930s, contemporary with the developments at Rouen under William Longsword. The 920s and 930s also saw regular cross-Channel travel and influences. Alan Barbetorte, Count of Brittany, returned to his county at this time after exile at the English court (Quaghebeur 2002); Æthelstan’s courtiers also included Danish earls as well as West Saxon and Mercian nobles. Hence, the events in the redevelopment of Rouen can be seen as part of those cross-Channel flows of people and influences. The sponsorship of a community of Jewish merchants, however, was a trait specific to West Francia in the tenth century, specifically geared to stimulation of long-distance trade and hence state profits through taxation. Unfortunately, archaeological evidence for the subsequent mercantile dynamism of Rouen is lacking at present. It is uncertain, therefore, whether it was more akin to London, York, Lincoln, Norwich and Dublin, or more similar to many of the burhs of tenth-century England, which were administrative centres, markets and mints for their shire territories without having large permanently resident populations for much of that century (see below). The topographic development of Orléans provides a good example of tenth- to twelfth-century urban development at a diocesan centre within the much reduced royal domain of the Kings of France. Orléans was one of the three most important cities within the French kingdom, along with

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Paris and Compiègne. Prior to the tenth century, the northeast corner of the Roman walled area was occupied by the cathedral of the Bishops of Orléans, and there were several other churches to its south, and several monastic foundations outside the walls, immediately to its east, close to the River Loire. These included the important abbey of Saint-Aignan. A bridge was maintained crossing the river throughout the early Middle Ages, leading into the walled settlement. Sometime during the tenth century a large suburb of merchants developed outside the southwest gate to the port on the banks of the Loire, known as the burgus Avenum, although it may have had its origins in the ninth century (McCormick 2001, 645, n. 21). Access to the intramural area from the merchant settlement was controlled by a small fortification known as the ‘Châtelet’. These developments resulted in the emergence of a bipolar town by the mid tenth century, with its commercial focus outside the walled area, to its west, and an administrative and religious focus, within the walls and beyond them, to the east (Josset and Mazuy 2004, 55–7). After a fire in 989, the French king, Robert the Pious, took the lead in restoring the fortunes of the town. It may be from this period that the king granted the bishops of Orléans the right to strike Capetian royal coinage (Dumas-Dubourg 2004b, 43). As at Rouen, it was also sometime during the tenth century that a community of Jewish merchants settled at Orléans. Their synagogue was constructed in the centre of the Late Roman walled area at the intersection between the commercial and religious zones, and presumably the Jewish community resided in this area (Josset and Mazuy 2004, 56). The absence of a royal donjon residence within Orléans is typical of the limited presence of donjons and urban castles in the royal domain, until the construction of the Louvre in Paris by Philippe Auguste in the late twelfth century, and his construction of copies of his round donjon in newly conquered towns in Normandy, as at Rouen. At Tours, the most extensively studied French town from an archaeological perspective, there was a similar interplay between secular and ecclesiastical power to that seen at Angers, Rouen and Orléans, in the tenth- and eleventh-century development of the city. Tours, on the banks of the Loire, was a town with two principal poles of power and patronage up until the mid to late tenth century. The diocesan centre was housed within the Late Roman walled circuit and a key cult focus was located to its west at the monastery of St Martin (Galinié 1999). The monastery of St Martin was also enclosed by a protecting stone wall in the mid tenth century. Between the two poles, recent excavations around the church of St Julien suggest occupied space at this period (Galinié 2007; Figure 25b).

Towns as regional centres and urban diversity, AD 900–1150

Tours was not a principal administrative centre for a regional ruler, as it fell in a heavily contested territory between the Counts of Anjou and the Counts of Blois–Champagne. By the early decades of the eleventh century, however, the Count of Anjou, Fulk Nerra, secured hegemony over the town. It is not known if there was a count or a comital residence at Tours in earlier centuries. Yet there were certainly people who enjoyed an ostentatious lifestyle of consumption within the diocesan walled centre in the sixth to eighth centuries (see Chapter 8) (Galinié with Husi et al. 2007, 73–4), on the site that was later the residence and urban donjon of the Counts of Anjou. The evidence suggests that the comital donjon was constructed in the first half of the eleventh century, probably by Fulk Nerra’s son, Geoffrey Martel. The inhabitants also enjoyed a lifestyle of conspicuous consumption and elite pastimes, such as hunting, and also far-flung connections by the early twelfth century, witnessed by a seal of Baldwin, King of Jerusalem, to his future son-in-law, Fulk of Anjou (Galinié with Husi et al. 2007, 77–9). The donjon is viewed as the base for the comital government of Touraine, the territory linked to Tours. The episcopal, monastic and comital foci also patronised those living in the suburbium, between the diocesan/comital and monastic poles of the town. The monastery of St Martin also possessed its own burgus of artisans and merchants from the ninth century, and a portus probably existed on the banks of the Loire (see Figure 16, Chapter 8) (Galinié 1981). With the three poles of power and patronage, a mint, a river port market and toll station, the mercantile elements of Tours also increased, as did the likelihood of leading vassals and officials having residences in the regional administrative and market centre, to serve the needs of the different powers within the town. Recent survey of many of the standing houses in the Châteauneuf area of Tours, extending from the abbey of St Martin eastwards towards the donjon of the counts, has shown that a surprising number have twelfth- and thirteenth-century stone fabric in their aboveground walls or in their cellars, and some date from the early twelfth century, such as Tower House 7, on the rue de Murier (Garrigou Grandchamp 2007, 267–9). Through the eleventh and early twelfth centuries, consequences of commercial success, social advancement due to official service and the urban interests of landed aristocrats resulted in the manifestation of that wealth and social success in key towns. It is very difficult, however, to distinguish between an ostentatious town-house of a rich merchant and a town-house owned by an important official or a landed rural magnate. The town-houses at Tours could represent the residences of all these urban actors.

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Smaller towns without Roman heritage also possessed similarly diverse important citizens by the eleventh and early twelfth centuries. For example, at Vendôme, the principal residence of the Counts of the Vendômois, textual sources show that even in that relatively small northern French town, wealthy merchant–burgesses, major magnates, officials and some military retainers (milites) all maintained significant residences within it, between the 1030s and 1150 (Dutour 2003, 166–9). There are also some signs of farming communities living on the outskirts of towns benefitting from sale of produce at urban markets. An apparently average, late eleventh-century farm of several cob and wooden buildings on a roadside at the edge of Argentan (Orne), in Normandy, yielded a fragment of a fine glass vessel amongst evidence of mixed farming and limited iron-smithing. The excavator speculated that the glass vessel was a marker of the relatively elevated social status of this farming family (Charpentier 2002, 94). However, the other structural and artefact remains suggest that the inhabitants prospered from the immediate proximity of an urban market. The farming settlement was abandoned with the growth of the town in the mid to late twelfth century and the construction of a stone town wall close to the site (Charpentier 2002, 97). In Flanders, there also seems to have been very significant urban growth around existing polyfocal centres of power and patronage that had not been Roman diocesan towns, during the tenth and eleventh centuries, akin to and sometimes beyond that seen at the royal and episcopal towns at Compiègne and Liège. The most notable examples are the towns of Ghent and Bruges. Despite attempts by scholars to suggest that there may have been a Late Roman castellum at Ghent, similar to the known examples from Maastricht and Namur, no evidence of a significant Roman centre has been found to date, only a spread of artefacts in the vicinity of the later comital residence (Laleman and Raveschot 1994, 201; Verhulst 1999). There was a fourth- to fifth-century castellum at Oudenburg (West Flanders), in the same region as Bruges, but again no evidence of a significant Roman central place has been found at Bruges itself. Ghent seems to have developed as a consequence of the juxtaposition of ecclesiastical foci of power and patronage, between the mid seventh and ninth centuries. The two Carolingian royal abbeys of St Bavo’s and St Peter’s were situated in close proximity on the Rivers Leie and Scheldt: St Bavo’s to the north at a settlement called Ganda, and St Peter’s to the south within a settlement called Blandinium. A river port, called the portus Ganda, is also mentioned from c. 865. This mercantile port was situated in a meander between the Rivers Scheldt and Leie, to the west and east respectively, and also between Ganda and Blandinium. Archaeological

Towns as regional centres and urban diversity, AD 900–1150

excavations have shown that it was surrounded by a D-shaped semicircular ditch or moat, opening into the Scheldt (see Figure 34 below) (Callebaut 1994, 102). The oldest church in the port was dedicated to St John, and was probably founded before the tenth century. It was to stay the principal church of Ghent, but was upgraded to a Cathedral and dedicated to St Bavo in subsequent centuries. The D-shaped enclosure of the portus had been filled by the mid tenth century, amid large-scale mercantile and port development along the banks of the Rivers Scheldt and Leie (Callebaut 1994, 102). By the early tenth century, the Counts of Flanders had become the de facto rulers of their coastal county, and were largely independent of the last Carolingian kings of West Francia. At the start of that century, the Counts founded their residence and estate centre approximately 400 m to the northeast of the port on an island formed by meanders of the Rivers Leie and Lieve, consisting of a wooden hall complex and structures interpreted as ancillary buildings and stables (Callebaut 1994, 103; Laleman 2004). The hall complex was replaced by a monumental two- or three-storey comital hall, in Tournai stone, during the eleventh century, 30 m by 32.8 m in dimensions (Callebaut 1994, 103–5). It was converted into a donjon in the 1180s. The major cult buildings of the abbeys were also constructed in Tournai stone by the eleventh century (Laleman and Raveschot 1994, 203). Hence, during the course of the tenth century, the patronage from the two monastic foci and the comital centre, all of which drew on massive landed possessions, stimulated the growth of the mercantile quarter to the point that it was larger than all the other elements of this polyfocal town. By 1100, the urban area of Ghent is estimated to have covered at least 80 hectares (Laleman and Raveschot 1994, 204). By the mid eleventh century, the mercantile population dominated the town, often combining trading roles with official and civic positions, as seen in London during the same period. The wealthiest among the merchant population were families described as viri probi or viri hereditarii. By c. 1060, they had formed a corporation governing the affairs of the mercantile town in the face of the count’s residence and its urban estate, and the two abbeys, and their settlements (Laleman and Raveschot 1994, 205; Laleman 2004). The source of the mercantile wealth was trade of cloth, spun, dyed and woven in the town, and afterwards traded across Europe by river and maritime merchants. Their principal trading partner was England, which exported much of the wool necessary for the cloth production in Ghent, during the later tenth and eleventh centuries. The close trading relationship between England and Flanders may be signalled by the action of matching the weights and silver content of English and Flemish coinage in the reign of Cnut (1017–35), to ease facilitation of trade (Nightingale 1995, 17).

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Count’s Castle

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Figure 34 Distribution of eleventh- to twelfth-century Romanesque town-houses of wealthy merchant–patricians in Ghent

The wealth of the urban mercantile elite was manifested in ostentatious stone town-houses from the early to mid twelfth century, some of which possessed towers, built in Tournai stone. Indeed, from the mid twelfth century some of the Ghent merchant houses are recorded as having been as ‘high as towers’ (Laleman and Raveschot 1994, 205). At least twenty of these monumental stone houses were concentrated along the principal street (the Hoogpoort) of the town between the old portus and the River Leie, facing the comital residence and estate (Figure 34). Others were located behind the landing places of the various port zones on the Leie, especially the corn market and cereal port (Laleman and Raveschot 1994, 201). The layout and design of the houses on the Hoogpoort and the Leie waterfront differ, however. The Hoogpoort houses fronted on to the street,

Towns as regional centres and urban diversity, AD 900–1150

with enclosed plots behind them, whereas the Leie houses are also suggested to have served the purpose of large warehouses on their lower floors, emphasising the importance of provisioning urban markets with staple foods, and the wealth derived from it by the early twelfth century. The butchers’ guildhall was also the largest in Ghent, although the current standing building dates from the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. The scale of the twelfthcentury town-houses with their towers is seen as a direct statement in stone of both the private wealth and communal power of the leading families of the corporation of Ghent, in opposition to the monumental symbols of the count and the abbeys (Laleman and Raveschot 1994, 205). In Bruges, less can be said from archaeological and standing building remains about the development of the port town as a mercantile centre for the period prior to the thirteenth century. There are indications that Bruges was a significant settlement prior to the foundation of the fortified comital residence, at the end of the ninth century. Bruges was already a mint in the reign of Charles the Bald, from the 860s, and was equidistant between the comital rural estate centres at Snellegem and Sysele (Ryckaert 1999; Loveluck and Tys 2006, 145). Like the latter settlements it may have been a Carolingian royal estate centre prior to appropriation by the Counts of Flanders as successors to royal power. The Burg comital residence and enclosure was sited between the watercourses of the Kraanrei and the Groene Rei, tributaries of the River Svin, and was defended on its landward side by a D-shaped enclosure ditch and wooden palisade by the turn of the tenth century (De Witte 1991, 1994, 86–8). By the mid tenth century, the enclosed area had been enlarged and surrounded by a mortared stone rampart. The rotunda church of St Donatus was also built in the mid tenth century and there was presumably a comital hall and ancillary buildings in the vicinity (De Witte 1994, 89–90). By the mid twelfth century, the rotunda church of St Donatus and its cloister had been joined by the stone comital residence and its chapel, dedicated to St Basil, and also other buildings. The main market area of Bruges developed on the opposite bank of the Kraanrei, to the west of the comital enclosure, from which led the street called the Steenstraat, presumably metalled in stone. The other pole of development focussed on Hoogstraat, the ‘High Street’, leading eastwards from the comital settlement. Other chapels and churches had also been built to the north of it, in emerging urban parishes, and the market existed by the mid twelfth century (De Witte 1994, 89). While little is known of the mercantile population of Bruges prior to the later twelfth and thirteenth centuries, when the town eclipsed Ghent as the principal Flemish trading port (Murray 2005), it is notable that even in

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the 1050s Godwin and some of his sons took refuge in the port town of Bruges rather than Ghent. The latter was probably the principal trading town with England at that time. Nevertheless, Bruges must have been a significant town by the mid eleventh century. For the purposes of the Godwin clan, it also opened more directly on to the Channel waterway and was much closer to their family-sponsored ports on the Sussex coast, and closer to their seafaring mercantile clients in major towns, like London. In analysing the impact of lordship in its various forms against mercantile stimulus on the growth of major towns between the tenth and mid twelfth centuries, there are striking similarities between Ghent and London in the later tenth and eleventh centuries, where the dynamics of trade and mercantile office-holding resulted in increasing civic and mercantile independence and an elevation in the merchants’ social status to match their material wealth. Indeed, in Ghent and London, the difficulty of managing large, wealthy and dynamic merchant populations by rulers is made increasingly manifest in the eleventh century. The Flemish counts effectively lost control of Ghent in the face of an urban corporation, and the growth in the power of urban collective authorities in Flanders more generally resulted in the deposition of the Count of Flanders imposed upon them in 1127, in favour of the candidate of their choice (Verhulst 1999, 141). In England, the West Saxon and Danish Kings of England used Winchester as the principal centre of administrative authority rather than the commercial capital at London. This may have been partly due to the tradition that attached to Winchester as a governmental centre but it is equally clear that the armed merchant seafarers of London were very difficult to control, by the mid eleventh century. In the 1050s, merchant clients of Edward the Confessor and Harold Godwinson were launching rival fleets on the Thames, on behalf of their allied patrons (Fleming 1993). Only victory in battle against the Londoners in 1066, and construction of the west castle and the Tower of London, allowed William the Conqueror and his Norman successors to control the commercial city.

Towns as regional central places in Britain, AD 900–1150 As in Continental northwest Europe, there were major diocesan centres sited within the townscapes of former Roman cities at the end of the ninth century, such as Canterbury, London, Lincoln, York, Winchester and Chester. Unlike in France, Belgium, the southern Netherlands or Rhineland Germany, however, the link between the tradition of ecclesiastical and

Towns as regional centres and urban diversity, AD 900–1150

secular administration of regional territories from former urban centres had been largely destroyed in England. Between the seventh and ninth centuries, new diocesan centres were established within smaller Roman towns and nucleated settlements that never held regional governmental roles, as at Dorchester-on-Thames (Oxfordshire) and Worcester (Worcestershire). Others were founded at new or existing Anglo-Saxon estate centres: for example, Lichfield (Staffordshire), Hereford (Herefordshire) and Elmham (Norfolk). None of the diocesan centres located within smaller Roman nucleated settlements or Anglo-Saxon rural centres administered the secular government of their dioceses. And some of the diocesan territories in England were much larger than those of their counterparts in France and Belgium, having been linked to kingdoms rather than longstanding Late Roman administrative units inherited by the Christian church as dioceses. Hence, even though there were royal palace or estate centres in former Roman townscapes, there was no tradition of secular administrative central places linked to smaller regional territories prior to the later ninth century. During the last quarter of that century, however, the rural territories of eastern England ruled by Scandinavians seem to have been administered primarily from defended central places that gained artisan and mercantile populations from Anglo-Scandinavian elite patronage. Notable examples are the centres that became known as the ‘Five Boroughs’ of Nottingham, Derby, Leicester, Lincoln and Stamford, and York became the secular and commercial capital of the Kingdom of York, and was already the centre of the Diocese of the Archbishops of York. Possibly influenced by the developments in the Danelaw, Alfred the Great, King of Wessex, and overlord of Sussex, Kent and Anglo-Saxon Mercia, also developed a concept of defended central places, called burhs, as focal points for the defence of regions, their populations and their administration, during the late 880s to 890s. There has been much debate as to the influences upon the development of this conceptual framework of central places, and inspiration from the Danelaw has been the least popular explanation in recent years. Some have seen possible influence from the fortification of some existing centres in West Francia, following the Edict of Pîtres, issued by Charles the Bald in 864 (Carver 2010, 143–4). Yet, the examination of the archaeological evidence from West Francia in this study (see Chapter 10) shows that the defensive works at existing settlements involved fortification of elite foci of estate centres and palaces, and refurbishment of relatively small Roman walled circuits of towns, not the protection of all elements of settlements, unlike burhs. Indeed, the inspiration for promotion of urban and commercial development through

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renovation of the Roman walls, deliberate replanning of streets and the refoundation of the mint at Rouen seems to have come from the England of Alfred’s grandson, Æthelstan, in the 930s, not from any initiative in Francia (Le Maho 1993, 29). Martin Carver has advanced the alternative hypothesis that Alfred was inspired by the Roman precedent of rural and social territories being administered by towns (Carver 2010, 144). Alfred’s experiences of Continental Europe and his pilgrimage to Rome, with his father Æthelwulf, might have provided him with experience of the legacy of those Roman central place and governmental traditions (Story 2003). The idea of Roman inspiration for Alfred’s scheme is very attractive, and the leading rulers of western Europe at this period were certainly inspired by the Roman past, not least in their imperial self-representation. Yet the manifestation of a system of central places for the defence and administration of a regional rural populace was specific to Alfred, his son and grandson. If Roman example was its inspiration, the physical creations based upon it were very different from the way the Roman past was used in late Carolingian and early Capetian West Francia and Islamic Spain. It is also unclear to what extent Alfred intended his defended burhs to be administrative centres for rural regions. He may have conceived of the idea to found towns in the Roman manner but the evidence that regional territories, called shires, were to be administered from them by royal officials, called shire-reeves, is only demonstrated from laws of his grandson Æthelstan, between 924 and 930. Similarly, the role of burhs as exclusive centres for minting coinage and administered markets, overseen by shire-reeves (sherrifs), is only evident from the reign of Æthelstan (Whitelock 1955, 384). Hence, from the mid 920s there was certainly a clear initiative to promote the development of burhs as towns, which acted as focal defensive, judicial and economic centres for their shire territories. This state-wide policy may also have been linked to the consolidation of the newly created imperial construct, the kingdom of England, by Æthelstan. The difference between the concept and reality of burghal towns, between the 880s and 930s may also have related to contemporary perceptions of what a town was. For Alfred, they may have been primarily defensive and administrative centres, whereas for Æthelstan they were as much economic centres from which tolls and taxation could be raised. The physical reality of burghal towns demonstrates that Alfred the Great, Edward the Elder and Æthelstan conceived of these centres as part of an organised network of linked urban and rural territories. Yet the burhs that became regional central places exhibit considerable diversity. Some, like Winchester, Hereford and Worcester, were existing major central

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places, with combinations of royal, episcopal and monastic centres (Biddle 1976; Baker and Holt 1996, 130; Boucher 2002, 8–9). Others, like London and Southampton, were major port centres, and others still, by the 920s to 930s, were former Scandinavian towns, like the Five Boroughs, whose linked rural territories were also constituted as shires. Most significantly, however, a significant proportion of burhs were foundations for which there is little settlement evidence, between the Roman period and their foundation, like Oxford (Dodd 2003) and Stafford (Carver 2010). The relationship of major burghal ports to any linked regional territories is unclear. For example, Essex does not seem to have been administered from London, despite the Bishops of London having been originally the Bishops of the East Saxons. Instead, Colchester may have had a greater administrative role. In the case of Southampton, the regional territory administered from it seems to have been minimal, with the much more important governmental burh and the episcopal centre of Winchester being so close to it. Yet the shire name of the county in which both are situated came to be called Hampshire, after Hamtun – Southampton. Only Norwich received a regional territory equivalent to its commercial importance – the whole of Norfolk (Ayers 2009). Yet the regional episcopal focus remained the rural episcopal centre at Elmham until after the Norman Conquest, when it was finally moved to Thetford and then Norwich (Wade Martins 1980). Interestingly, there is no evidence that the other significant river port in Norfolk, at Thetford, received any linked rural territory, despite the presence of 943 burgesses in the Domesday survey (Fleming 1993, 9). The critical importance of the major port burhs to the tenth- and eleventh-century kingdom of England lay not in regional administration but, instead, in their role as commercial towns that generated a balance of trade which procured the bulk of the silver for the state (augmented by tribute and war booty), which could then be struck as a reliable coinage of fixed weight and silver content at burhs across England. Indeed, all burhs were also called ports in Old English, despite many not being situated in maritime, estuarine or navigable riverside locations, emphasising their roles as regional mints and markets. All major burghal central places also exhibit a marked difference from the towns of tenth-century West Francia, in that they all possessed defences which enclosed the entirety of their occupied areas, or the entirety of the space that the founders envisaged to be occupied in the future, in Wessex and ‘English’ Mercia. This reflects the enaction of a state civic policy on the part of the West Saxon kingdom of England to protect its subjects that was not matched or was not desired in the neighbouring

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fragmented polities of West Francia. There were differences in the area of the Danelaw, however, where towns like Lincoln and York had already outgrown their Roman defences through their dynamism, by the time they were incorporated within the kingdom of England, between 920 and 955 (Hall 1994; Vince 2003, 207–46). This uniformity of defensive provision in the West Saxon dominated areas involved the refurbishing of Roman town walls at some burhs, like London, Winchester and Rochester, and the construction of extensions to existing earthwork defences from the Roman period at others, such as Worcester (Baker and Holt 1996, 130–1; Dalwood 2004, 55). In other instances at settlements without a Roman heritage, as at Hereford, only part of the existing settlement, including the cathedral, had been enclosed by an earthwork rampart in the mid ninth century. This left the monastery of St Guthlac’s and part of the main street outside the rampart, suggesting that it was an episcopal initiative. With the establishment of the West Saxon burh at the end of the ninth century, however, the entirety of the occupied area, including St Guthlac’s and the street system, was enclosed within a larger D-shaped, timber-faced turf and clay rampart (Boucher 2002, 9). At Oxford, there is much less archaeological evidence for occupation prior to the foundation of the burh but there was undoubtedly a major eighth- to ninth-century wooden bridge across the River Thames, which provided a strategic reason for the foundation of the burh, and possibly an economic motivation, for toll collection (Dodd 2003, 13–19). At the turn of the tenth century, an earth and turf rampart was constructed, revetted and also fronted with timber, and a regular street system established, with an eastern extension to enclose a suburb that had grown to the east, probably in the early eleventh century (Dodd 2003, 21–2; Mumby 2003, 24–5). At Stafford, the early defences are represented by evidence of a wooden palisade, and possibly a wooden tower (Carver 2010, 73). Subsequently, a mortared stone wall was built up against the turf and clay rampart at Hereford in the last quarter of the tenth century (Boucher 2002, 9–10); and a similar stone rampart was also built at Oxford, in the early to mid eleventh century, incorporating at least one church tower (that of St Michael) at its Northgate (Blair 2003, 162–3). Prior to the late tenth century, however, archaeological evidence within the walled areas of burhs without significant pre-existing settlement foci, such as Oxford and Stafford, suggests relatively sparse occupation along street fronts, with quite large areas of intramural space unoccupied. This is certainly the impression not only from Oxford and Stafford, but also from burhs that possessed long-standing polyfocal settlement nodes, like

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Hereford. A proportion of intramural space was used for agriculture and horticulture. For example, the area behind the mid ninth- to mid eleventhcentury houses on Berrington Street, towards the defences, appears to have been cultivated (Boucher 2002, 9–10). Similarly, at Deansway in Worcester, the area adjacent to the defences at sites 3 and 4 was open space within the ramparts until the onset of intensive occupation in the late eleventh century (Dalwood 2004, 55). Again like Hereford, evidence for occupation at Deansway was only found on a street frontage (sites 1 and 2) at the end of the ninth to early tenth centuries, and it was only from the mid tenth century that occupation of space was intensive (Dalwood 2004, 55). Indeed, one has to question whether many of the burhs of the first half of the tenth century should be regarded as towns, from a modern perspective. Many combined administrative and ecclesiastical central functions, and they were mints and administered markets, but they do not seem to have possessed large and diverse populations until the later tenth century. Hence they could be regarded as what Galinié has termed ‘nonurban’ towns, from our modern perspective, prior to the late tenth century (Galinié 1999). From the later tenth century, however, there is a general picture of a much greater density of occupation, and a greater diversity of activities and social actors amongst what had truly become burghal ‘townscapes’. This dynamism had already occurred by the early decades of the tenth century in the major Anglo-Scandinavian towns of York, Lincoln and Thetford, where abundant provision of goods and services for wide regional hinterlands is evident. Yet, in parts of the West Saxon kingdom of England that had always remained under West Saxon hegemony, this dynamism is generally absent outside major centres like London and Winchester, until the later decades of the tenth century. From that time onwards, quantities of coinage minted and discarded increased dramatically, probably as a consequence of greater wealth generation and importation of silver at the burghal ports. From the mid to late tenth century, large urban pottery industries producing ceramics on a fast-wheel were also based at some of the burghal towns. Stafford ware (formerly known as Chester ware) was distributed throughout the northwest Midlands of England, and from ports like Chester, to North Wales and Dublin, in Ireland (Redknap 2000; Carver 2010). A glazed white ware, probably inspired by Continental glazed wares like Andenne ware, was produced at Winchester. Carver has also noted the greater diversity of forms among the pottery wares produced from the mid tenth century, with fine pedestal cups and bowls also produced alongside cooking and storage jars at Stafford, possibly reflecting new tastes in eating

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utensils for urban-dwellers. He also sees the reintroduction of pottery in the northwest Midlands, which Stafford ware represents, as a further reflection of a programme of Roman inspiration, on the part of the West Saxon burh builders (Carver 2010, 100–1). From the late tenth and early eleventh centuries, there is also more abundant textual evidence of the social make-up of burghal shire towns, in addition to the archaeological evidence for the presence of moneyers, growing artisan populations and some agricultural households. There is also textual, topographic and archaeological evidence of expansion of occupied areas beyond the initial defended enclosures of burhs by the eleventh century. One of the most notable traits is the linkage of urban burgage plots and larger haga blocks of land with landowners who held rural estates, making the relationship between the shire town and the countryside that much closer, especially at the level of the landowning elite. Major magnates also gave dependent urban artisans grants of rural estates. Worcester provides good examples of this process within the burh at Worcester, a significant proportion of which was owned by the bishop, and was leased and sub-leased to both dependent thegns and officials and artisans serving the episcopal household. In 963, he seems to have given one of his officials, Ælfric, the advowson of All Saints church in Worcester, linked to his manor at Cotheridge (Worcestershire). Between the 970s and 990s, Bishop Oswald also made land grants to two of his household artificers, probably skilled metalworkers, one of whom, Æthelmaer, was also a moneyer (Baker and Holt 1996, 137–8). By the eleventh century, the linkage of rural estates and urban residences when leasing property to tenants or buying and selling property seems to have been normal. A range of thegns were granted rural estates and linked haga urban residences from the Bishops of Worcester, in the first half of the eleventh century, and others were sold for gold. Other major magnates also possessed rural estates linked to properties in Worcester, in the 1040s to 1050s, such as Leofric, Earl of Mercia (Baker and Holt 1996, 139). Robin Fleming has abundantly illustrated the extent of urban landholdings by both the higher aristocracy and more regionally based landowners during the early to mid eleventh century. For example, a thegn named Osbern Bigge owned more than 70 messuages (urban burgage plots) in the burh at Canterbury in the 1040s and 1050s, over a tenth of all property in Canterbury. Another thegn, Wigod of Wallingford, also owned forty-two houses within and outside the defences at Oxford, in 1066, in addition to a mill and rights over a church (Fleming 1993, 12). The interests of the Godwinsons in London have already been mentioned, but the scale of the

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urban interests of this family of earls was staggering, especially within and around major burh ports. In addition to holding the clientage of a large number of independent mercantile burgesses in London by the 1050s, Harold Godwinson owned a large estate in London, which had formerly been granted to St Peter’s abbey in Ghent, and he also held the large estate of Lambeth (Fleming 1993, 13–14). The Godwinsons also owned nearly all the major rural estates around Chichester, and the clientage of most of its burgesses. Hence, by the first half of the eleventh century, the potential complexity of the social fabric, networks and obligations of the populations of major burhs was immense. They housed a range of dependents of great ecclesiastical and secular magnates, from their thegns in their haga residences, to officials and artisan and merchant tenants of various levels of wealth. In addition, other thegns owned portfolios of properties in their own right and leading independent merchants and artisans owned their own haga plots or groups of them. Leading magnates, thegns and independent artisans and merchants, such as goldsmiths, spice merchants and moneyers, also paid for the construction and held the rights over many of the urban churches, in what became town parishes from the eleventh century. This is the background against which the urban churches of St Antonin (later the pepperers’ guild church) on Watling Street–Soper Lane, London, and that of the ironworkers on Poultry can be viewed; not to mention the numerous churches in other major cities, like Norwich. The mason–architects who built these stone churches could be very wealthy in their own right. Like merchants, some of them, described under the Old English term wirhta (wright) or in Latin as artifex (artificer), were given large rural and urban estates by patrons. The best known artificer–mason is Teinfrith, the ‘church-wright’ of Edward the Confesor, who was in charge of building Westminster Abbey. He was given an eight-hide estate by Edward at Shepperton, Middlesex (Gem 2009, 169–70), making him a thegn of considerable status. Urban cemeteries were also increasingly associated with these churches, whether they were built in stone or wood. An eleventh-century example of a small wooden church and cemetery was excavated in Norwich by Brian Ayers, in the area of the pre-Conquest town that was later used as part of the bailey of the later eleventh-century Norman castle (Ayers 1985). Monumental stone grave-markers, mostly recumbent, also became a feature of important individuals buried in towns from the tenth century, in key Anglo-Scandinavian towns, at the Minster at York and St Mark’s parish church at Wigford, Lincoln, especially (Stocker and Everson 2001, 225–6; Thompson 2003, 216–19). From the later tenth and eleventh

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centuries, examples have been found more commonly in southern towns like London, Rochester and Worcester. Some, like those associated with York Minster and St Mark’s, Lincoln used Anglo-Scandinavian art styles in their decoration, and the example from St Paul’s in London and two fragments of grave-markers from Rochester are decorated in early eleventh-century Scandinavian Ringerike style (Brooks 2006, 16). Given the wealth and status of landed aristocrats and leading merchants and officials by the eleventh century, it is difficult to be certain of the social groups reflected by these marked graves, other than the fact that they represented leading members of urban society, and possibly regional society, since elites usually held land in both town and country. Given the location of St Mark’s church in the manufacturing and trading zone of the lower town at Wigford, in Lincoln, Stocker and Everson (2001, 225) have suggested that the recumbent grave-markers mark the resting places of aspiring merchant families. The markers decorated with Ringerike style in southern England, however, probably reflect specific affiliation with the Danish rule of England, between 1017 and 1042. Different regional and mercantile interests, and possibly ethnic affiliations, are also probably reflected in many church dedications. For example, dedications to St Clement in London and Rochester may reflect Danish affiliation in the first half of the eleventh century (Brooks 2006, 16); while a church dedicated to St Vaast at Norwich probably reflects Flemish affiliation and trade with Flanders from the eleventh century, not to mention very significant Flemish immigration to Norwich after the Norman Conquest (Ayers 2009). The total symbiosis between urban and rural landowning in later tenthand eleventh-century England mirrors directly the same phenomenon seen on the Continent in the same period. The interrelationship seems more emphatic in England because of the possession of the Domesday survey. The tenurial complexity within townscapes and their range of social actors make it very difficult to know, for certain, what social group archaeological evidence sometimes reflects. For example, the eleventh-century structures, pits and deposits stratified beneath the Norman castle at Norwich yielded remains of metalworking, textile manufacture, bone- and antler-working, and also weapons in the form of arrowheads, a copper-alloy stirrup mount of the early to mid eleventh century, and iron horse harness and bit fragments (Mould 2009; Shepherd Popescu 2009, 169–79). Silver coins of the mid tenth to mid eleventh centuries were also deposited, including an early eleventh-century imitation of a German penny, from the Ottonian royal mint at Magdeburg (Davies with Archibald 2009, 177). Bones of a

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goshawk, one of the most favoured hunting birds of the period, were also recovered from a mid eleventh-century deposit (Albarella, Beech and Mulville 2009a, 185). Given the knowledge that leading artisans and merchants possessed rural estates and could hunt, this assemblage could reflect a mercantile household. On the other hand, the collection of artefacts and social practices reflected could also represent a thegn’s urban household. This difficulty of differentiating the social background and role of wealthy urban actors also extends to the inhabitants of many of the early to mid twelfth-century town-houses constructed on the haga plots within the burghal shire towns and the major burghal port towns. The twentyseven stone houses dating from the twelfth century in Canterbury, to the north and south of the High Street, could represent both urban residences of aristocrats as well as the houses of merchants. At Colchester, the twelfthcentury stone houses in the vicinity of the High Street have been associated with Jewish residences, on the basis of textual evidence of population topography (Schofield 1995, 32). Many twelfth-century stone town-houses have in the past been associated with Jewish communities in England, such as the so-called ‘Jew’s House’ on Steep Hill, in Lincoln. Yet, from the mid twentieth century, it had become clear that there was nothing specifically Jewish about the ostentatious urban houses (Wood 1965, 6). The Colchester attribution relates to textual evidence for Jews having lived in the High Street area, not the architecture. In other instances, as in the commercial heart of London and along its Queenhithe waterfront (Schofield 1995, 28–33) and also along the Wensum waterfront on King Street, Norwich, these stone houses can be more firmly identified as urban residences and sometimes warehouses of leading merchant families (Ayers 2009). In Southampton, it is again difficult to be certain of the identities of the families who lived in the mid to late twelfthcentury stone houses but the location of most of them on the waterfront or close to it, at the southern end of the High Street, suggests merchant families (Faulkner 1975, 57). In London, like Ghent, stone houses were built directly fronting on to streets in gable-end fashion, and also behind street frontages. Stone houses dating from the early to mid twelfth century and located on street fronts have been excavated on Milk Street and Watling Court, in the Cheapside area, and slightly later twelfth-century examples have been excavated on Thames Street (Schofield 1995, 28–9). The Milk Street houses succeeded the cellared buildings and pits of the later tenth and eleventh centuries that had contained the fragments of silk garments. The twelfth-century houses on Milk Street were not very

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ostentatious and almost certainly reflect continuity of occupation by merchant families. One of the features of stone town-houses and their linked plots, however, was the fact that they were regularly bought and sold by different social groups. By the thirteenth century, some of the storage space within large merchants’ houses close to Cheapside was being rented by aristocratic families (Keene 1990, 41), and this multiple use of the same large stone houses by leading mercantile and landed elites could have occurred as easily a century earlier.

The development of new ports, small towns and ‘rural boroughs’, AD 1000–1150 In addition to the development of major towns as regional administrative centres and markets, with large and diverse populations, and the further expansion of major mercantile port cities, the period from the later tenth to mid twelfth century also saw the growth of other towns from small beginnings. In the eleventh century, these developments tended to occur from newly founded maritime ports, often located on the estate centres of kings or the high aristocracy, or from the expansion of existing important rural centres through migration and demographic growth, so that they gained population and diversity of functions to become towns. From the late eleventh and early twelfth centuries, greater use was made by landowners, from kings to minor aristocrats, of what had become the legal concept of a town and the legal rights of burgesses, to found new ‘towns’ or ‘boroughs’ that often comprised no more than planned nucleated ‘villages’ around castles. Their role was to help control border territories or newly conquered regions, and to develop them economically, as boroughs normally had markets and many had mints. All of these developments represent the combined agencies of landowning lordship, and the mercantile and rural peasant elements of society in northwest Europe. Good examples of eleventh-century maritime and riverine ports that developed in southern England are provided by Bristol (Somerset) and the Channel ports of Sandwich (Kent) and Old Winchelsea, Steyning and Bosham (Sussex). Bristol seems to have been founded in the late tenth or early eleventh century at the lowest crossing point of the River Avon before it entered the Severn estuary and hence the Atlantic Approaches. In the Domesday survey of 1086, the port was still part of the royal manorial estate of Barton but it was clearly a distinct settlement, probably with the status of a burghal port (Jackson 2006, 5). The port settlement was

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surrounded on three sides by the Rivers Avon and Frome, focussed on Bristol Ridge, as indicated by late tenth- to eleventh-century structures and refuse deposits. The earliest coinage struck at the settlement dates from the reign of Cnut, struck between 1017 and 1023, so the settlement probably ranked as a burghal port from that time. By 1051, it is recorded as a port for seagoing ships to and from Ireland (Jackson 2006, 5). After the Norman Conquest, a castle was built, and in the early twelfth century, a stone wall was constructed around the town, when under the lordship of Robert Fitz Haimo, who had recently created the lordship of Glamorgan on the opposite side of the Severn estuary, in south Wales. The town, like others, soon possessed a Benedictine priory outside its walls, dedicated to St James (Jackson 2006, 6). This possibly reflected the strong Atlantic outlook of the Severn estuary region of England and south Wales. Early to mid twelfthcentury churches in Pembrokeshire, at Walwyn’s Castle and Manorbier, are also dedicated to St James, possibly reflecting regular pilgrimage to Santiago (St James) of Compostela, around the Bay of Biscay. The port town of Sandwich also developed from beginnings as an important anchorage and landing place for shipping at the mouth of the River Stour, at the southern end of the Wansum channel which could be used as a sheltered sailing corridor into the Thames estuary from the Channel coast. It may have been linked to the former Kentish royal centre at Eastry but the very limited evidence dating from the eighth to ninth centuries suggests it was a small settlement. There is still no evidence of a significant settlement when Æthelred the Unready gave his royal lands at Eastry and Sandwich to the monastery of Christchurch, linked to Canterbury Cathedral, in 979 (Clarke et al. 2010, 22–5). It was used as an anchorage and mustering area for English and Scandinavian fleets between the 990s and 1014, and was again used in the same capacity by Edward the Confessor in the 1040s and 1050s, during the unrest with the family of Godwin, and while they were in exile in Bruges (Clarke et al. 2010, 25). During the early decades of the eleventh century, a settlement at Sandwich seems to have grown. The church of St Clement’s, normally associated with Danish influence, was built by the 1040s, and by the start of Edward the Confessor’s reign there was also a small mint, suggesting its role as a burghal port by that time (Clarke et al. 2010, 29). The port seems to have remained a possession of the Archbishops of Canterbury into the twelfth century. By 1086, it had grown to become second to Canterbury among all towns in Kent, and the port had to render annually £50 of silver coin and 40,000 herrings to the archbishop, reflecting the importance of crossChannel trade and fishing (Clarke et al. 2010, 30–1).

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At Winchelsea, Steyning and Bosham, the development of the ports was very closely linked to major landowning interests along the Channel coast during the first half of the eleventh century. The port town of Old Winchelsea has now been submerged by the sea, following the breach of a large shingle barrier that separated Rye Bay from an area of marshland behind it. Like Bristol and Sandwich, the port also lay on the coastal fringe of a large royal estate – the estate of Rameslie in East Sussex. The whole of this estate was given in 1017 to the Norman Benedictine abbey at Fécamp by Cnut (Eddison 2004, 2). The latter abbey was a key foundation of the Dukes of Normandy, and it is interesting that Rameslie was donated to Fécamp at the beginning of Cnut’s reign, given that the surviving members of the West Saxon dynasty were living in exile at the ducal court. The port is not recorded until the Domesday survey, so it was presumably a development of the first half of the eleventh century founded on fishing, salt production and related exchange (Eddison 2004, 2–3). The settlement at Steyning had an older origin, as an important West Saxon royal estate from the early to mid ninth century. King Æthelwulf, the father of Alfred the Great, was buried in a church there in the late 850s. The settlement lay on the landward side of the Sussex coastal saltmarshes and it was linked to the sea by the River Adur (Blair 1997, 181). During the tenth century, it seems to have grown beyond its likely estate centre core around the church. In the following century, a greater number of relatively modest buildings were set within irregular enclosures, and these have been interpreted as families of smallholders, mostly involved in agriculture (Gardiner 1997, 170). By the Domesday survey, the burgesses of Steyning still owed labour services working the land of the lord’s demesne holding, so many may have been indistinguishable in lifestyle from rural farmers archaeologically (Gardiner 1997, 169). Yet they held the status of urbandwellers, and the recovery of a pewter disc brooch during excavations indicates people of moderate wealth (Reynolds 1999, 171–2). Textual evidence also attests to the importance of Steyning as a small town. Like Old Winchelsea, it had also been given to the Norman abbey of Fécamp during the first half of the eleventh century but by 1066 the 118 masurae (household plots) had been usurped by Harold Godwinson (Fleming 1993, 13). There was also a mint at Steyning in the later eleventh century, overseen by none other than the moneyer Deorman of London, later monk of Bury St Edmunds (Nightingale 1982, 1995). In addition to these early to mid eleventh-century port initiatives, reflecting cross-Channel interests and trade, there was also considerable urban growth around other long-standing secular and monastic estate

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centres and mercantile settlements. Principal examples of the development of towns around monasteries are provided by Cluny (Saône-et-Loire), SaintDenis (Paris), Bury St Edmunds (Suffolk) and Cirencester (Gloucestershire). At Cluny, the town developed from the coalesence of several settlement nodes. The original secular settlement with its parish church and the abbey formed the two points of the developmental axis. An artisan and mercantile quarter then grew to the south of the abbey during the second half of the tenth century and this eventually extended northwards to join the old settlement. A further suburb developed to the east of the small town in the eleventh century (Rollier 1994). All the settlement expansion resulted from the increasing powers of patronage of the Abbots of Cluny, with their huge wealth in gold from Spain from the later tenth century. The town at SaintDenis expanded from its mid ninth-century fortified core, housing the main basilica, the funerary churches, the Carolingian royal palace and the artisan and mercantile population (Wyss 1999, 2001). It continued to grow through a combination of increasing wealth from the revenues of its famous fair and close association with the Capetian kings. The basilica became the principal royal mausoleum, once the royal family used Paris as its principal seat of government, especially from the reign of Louis VI in the early twelfth century (Wyss 2003). Developments at Bury St Edmunds mirrored those at Cluny, although less dramatically. Bury expanded from the martyrial monastery of St Edmund, the last king of Anglo-Saxon East Anglia, executed in the mid ninth century by the Viking ‘Great Army’. By the later tenth century, the abbey had grown as a consequence of donations of land and privileges and pilgrimage revenues to become one of the wealthiest in England. The artisan and mercantile settlement linked to the abbey of St Edmund, or the abbey itself, also housed a prolific mint from the later tenth century, probably marking the status of the overall settlement as a burh by that time. The rebirth of Cirencester as a town was also due primarily to the foundation of a major monastery within the former Roman city, during the ninth century. It was focussed on a monumental stone church closely paralleling mid ninth-century Carolingian examples (Gem 1998, 37–9). Gerrard has also postulated a royal estate centre at Cirencester (Gerrard 1994, 90). There is currently no evidence for one, however, and the absence of a mint in the tenth and eleventh centuries points to its gradual growth from the monastic core. The growth of Lille (Nord) and Douai (Nord) during the course of the eleventh century, in the historic County of Flanders (but now in northern France), also illustrates the catalysing impact of lordship in alliance with

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mercantile dynamism. At Lille, a settlement of merchants and artisans seems to have developed without the influence of a patron during the course of the tenth century. It was surrounded on three sides by the River Deule and was known after this island-like location as Isla. It was also located on the principal land communication route from Paris to Bruges. In 1066, Baldwin V, Count of Flanders gave the settlement urban status by charter. The counts then built a motte-and-bailey castle to the northwest of the town and a suburb also developed to its southeast, during the second half of the eleventh century (Blieck and Guiffray 1994, 208–10). At Douai, the town was sited on the River Scarpe and grew from a presumed estate centre and a linked community of agricultural households and artisans of the late ninth century. The settlement of that date was bounded by a rampart and the household plots, 5 m by 25 m in size, suggest a coherently planned and defended centre (Demolon, Louis and Louis-Vanbauce 1990, 13–14). By c. 945, the Counts of Flanders had a residence at the settlement, with a church. It changed hands, however, during the mid tenth century, when the last Carolingian West Frankish king, Lothar, rebuilt the comital residence by surrounding the lower level of a new wooden hall-tower (donjon) with earth, creating an early castle (Demolon and Louis 1994, 55). By the later tenth century, the settlement had been reclaimed by the Flemish. A suburb, known as Douayeul, developed during the tenth and eleventh centuries. Excavations and textual evidence suggest that this 2-hectare area was sparsely inhabited, and much of it was given over to agriculture in these centuries (Demolon, Louis and Louis-Vanbauce 1990, 15). On the opposite bank of the Scarpe the merchant quarter of the settlement developed, on the site of a portus, documented from the tenth century. Hence, the growing eleventh-century town of Douai had three distinctive zones of social fabric and activity: secular and religious authority around the comital residence, craft-working and commerce in the portus and agriculture, a brewery and a tavern in Douayeul (Demolon, Louis and Louis-Vanbauce 1990, 16). Similar urban developments to those seen at Lille and Douai occurred down the transport corridor of the Rhine valley and its tributaries. The estate centre of the Bishops of Cologne at Soest (NordRhein-Westfalen) had developed from the seventh century as a major salt production and ironworking centre, with separate artisan and estate centre foci. By the eighth century, there was a principal church dedicated to St Peter at the estate centre, with a smaller ancillary church next to it; and another church dedicated to St Thomas was also built at a separate focus, distinct from the artisan and episcopal foci (Melzer 1999, 367–72). The settlement

Towns as regional centres and urban diversity, AD 900–1150

associated with the church of St Thomas is unknown. It is possible that it may have been another estate centre focus of a local aristocrat. Between the end of the ninth and early tenth century, the episcopal core was surrounded by a rectangular dry stone rampart; and by the twelfth century, the different settlement elements coalesced, with the addition of a market, into a single urban settlement. A growing merchant element is probably reflected by the mid to late twelfth-century stone town-houses in the town (Melzer 2000, 98–100; Thiemann 2000, 42–5). By 1180, the town covered an estimated 102 hectares and the emperor, Frederik Barbarossa, made it the capital of Westphalia at that date (Melzer 1999, 373). Similar developments around key palace and estate centres also took place between the eleventh and thirteenth centuries: for example, at the palace settlement of Ingelheim and on the opposite bank of the River Main from the castellum, villa and monastic settlement elements at Karlburg (Ettel 1998). The monasteries at Lorsch and Corvey also grew to become small towns. Corvey had been founded by building the monastery on the opposite bank of the River Weser from a Carolingian royal estate centre at Höxter, with a market. By the twelfth century, the two settlements had coalesced into one small urban centre (Stephan 1994; Grothe and König 1999, 374–6). Palace settlements like Ingelheim and monasteries like Lorsch and Corvey, however, did not become large medieval towns like the diocesan centres of Cologne, Frankfurt and Mainz, or Soest, because of their limited range of roles in the face of the dynamic and diverse functions of the more populous towns. After the Norman Conquest in England, some of the burghal shire towns show signs of an economic decline, such as Oxford and Stafford. At the former town, some urban plots were abandoned for residential purposes and used for refuse disposal in pits (Dodd 2003), while at Stafford the pottery industry and mint of the eleventh century went into decline (Carver 2010). This abandonment of urban residential and craft-working space probably reflects the dispossession from Anglo-Saxon landowners of their linked rural and urban estates after the Conquest. Some of those landowning thegns became tenants of new Norman, Breton or Flemish lords, while more rarely some retained their lands (Williams 2003). A significant number of thegns seem to have fled England taking their portable wealth, seen so vividly in late tenth- and eleventh-century wills (Tollerton 2011). Some travelled via established mercantile waterborne infrastructure, or in their own ships, to the Mediterranean to take up service in the Varangian guard of the Byzantine emperors, which was still largely English in the early twelfth century (Nightingale 1995; Harris 2003).

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Officials such as moneyers survived more regularly in their urban residences, and others gained urban houses through service as translators and administrators (Nightingale 1995; Williams 2003). Signs of increased intensity in the use of urban space at Oxford, and hence growing prosperity, are suggested, between the late eleventh and mid twelfth centuries (Dodd 2003). At certain burghal shire towns and ports, such as Nottingham and Norwich, urban growth was promoted by the foundation of ‘French boroughs’, with French colonists and their own urban charters. At others, like Stafford, the economic decline of the immediate post-Conquest period continued as the focal point of patronage and new urban development became the De Tosny possession at Stafford castle and a newly founded ‘borough’ called Monetville, colonised by French settlers (Darlington and Soden 2007, 193–4). Some Norman magnates also founded new, planned ports, as at Hedon (East Yorkshire), founded by Count Stephen of Aumale in the second decade of the twelfth century. Its intended function was possibly to transport produce from Stephen’s new lordship of Holderness to his lands in northeast Normandy, and to encourage mercantile activity around the Humber, which he could tax through toll collection (English 1979). Small river ports also developed next to major royal castles such as Windsor (Berkshire), where there appears to have been at least one household wealthy enough to live in a fine stone town-house, during the first half of the twelfth century, perhaps the family of a merchant–official serving the royal centre (Hawkes and Heaton 1993, 91–3). In other instances, small nucleated settlements were founded in rural locations, usually adjacent to castles, and given urban status as boroughs by both kings and minor landowners in the newly conquered regions of England and south Wales, and also the border region of southern Normandy. The lordly reasoning for these foundations seems to have been twofold. Firstly, to attract sufficient settlers loyal to their interests who could assist rulers and their milites in the consolidation of territories. Secondly, with borough status the newly founded settlements, in reality no more than villages with a market and perhaps a mint, could assist in the economic development of regions. They could generate revenues for lords through rents from burgesses and tolls on trade (Courtney 2005, 65–6). Such foundations, however, also demanded cooperation and consensus between lords and both mercantile and agricultural settlers. Henry I of England offered burgess status to Flemish colonists to settle in the territory of Rhos (Pembrokeshire) in 1108–9, between the newly established AngloNorman lordship in southern Pembrokeshire and the Welsh principality of Deheubarth to its north. The freedoms of burgesses to pass on their land

(a)

(b)

Figure 35 (a) The large motte-and-bailey castle and (b) the church at the rural borough at Wiston, Pembrokeshire, founded in 1108–9 by Flemish farming families under the leadership of the locator, Wiso, whose sons built the earthwork castle

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and status to their children resulted in a large Flemish colonisation. Yet the Flemish boroughs of Haverfordwest and probably Wiston were no more than castles, with agricultural households, during the first half of the twelfth century (Murphy 1997) (Figure 35). In the 1120s, Henry I also provided stone churches and houses in addition to burgess status at the borough of Verneuil-sur-Avre (Eure), founded around a royal frontier castle in an attempt to attract settlers (Lemoine-Descourtieux 2007, 56). His Angevin successor, Henry II, used exactly the same strategy in the mid to late twelfth century, with the foundation of a borough just over 10 kilometres from Verneuil at Chennebrun (Eure). The borough was sited in proximity to a royal castle and at the terminus of a linear earthwork stretching from Mesle-sur-Sarthe called the ‘Fossés du Roy’, linking key frontier castles and boroughs, among them Verneuil and Breteuil (see Map 2). Henry is recorded as having built the earthwork around 1169, linking key nodes of population, defence and commerce along his southern frontier with the kingdom of France. The earthwork has been seen as defensive or a barrier against brigands (Lemoine 1998, 526–7). The use of fortified towns in a defensive chain was an action that consciously or unconsciously was also following the example of the West Saxon kings of England. By the first half of the twelfth century, therefore, the landscapes of northwest Europe had been transformed with a diverse web and hierarchy of towns and town-dwellers fixing ‘town and country’ together in a series of symbiotic links and multiple hinterland relationships, depending on the roles of towns and the goods and services they could provide. The development of the different types of town between the tenth and the mid twelfth centuries was always the result of cooperative action between the ruling power of states and the mercantile and agricultural populations within different regional societies. The principal motivation was mutual benefit for the different social groups, which resulted in greater wealth for rulers and landowners, and greater wealth and freedom for mercantile and agricultural populations through being urban citizens. This greater wealth and freedom on the part of urban populations of different character was maintained and developed further in the later twelfth and thirteenth centuries, when social freedoms of rural peasantries diminished significantly, only to be regained after the ravages of the Black Death (Schofield 2003, 12–13).

15 Final conclusions

The impact of behavioural settings, role and ‘materiality’ The thematic and comparative approach taken in this study has highlighted the recurrent importance of a range of phenomena, when trying to explain the transformations that took place in northwest Europe, between the seventh and the mid twelfth centuries. The first of these phenomena relates to the importance of specific living environments or behavioural settings and functional roles, on creation of material wealth and social networks. As a consequence, the archaeological ‘signatures’ or ‘materiality’ of people living and working in specific settings need not have had a direct and simple correlation with their social importance and status, in some instances. This importance of functional role and living context is abundantly illustrated by the coastal and maritime-oriented societies of northwest Europe, between the seventh and tenth centuries. They lived in highly marginal environments, which promoted the need to produce and trade specialist products, usually transported by water, for needs of their everyday subsistence. They were also situated on the liminal edges of land, often within coastal zones of marshes and creek systems that made them hard to police by the officials of growing kingdoms. Their topographic situation also gave coastal-dwellers direct access to the maritime exchange networks of the North Sea, Channel and Atlantic Approaches. As a consequence of this maritime orientation and the need to trade for elements of their daily requirements, a level of portable wealth was generated that was beyond many households of equivalent social status further inland, away from the sea. Indeed, the range of portable goods and weapons obtained was the same as that available to aristocratic elements of the population but the quantities possessed by coastal peasants were usually smaller. Many coastal households may have been loosely attached to estate territories further inland instead of owning their own lands but this did not prevent their access to imported pottery, querns and sometimes coinage and glass vessels, between the later seventh and ninth centuries. Hence, the specifics of living environment and linked social practices were potentially far more important than the tenurial demands of estate owners.

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The limited relationship between portable wealth, social status and tenurial associations in coastal settings is also seen in the quantities and range of goods displayed by certain specialist artisans from the mid seventh century, for example the Tattershall Thorpe fine-metalworking smith from Lincolnshire. Like the inhabitants of the liminal coastal fringes, specialist artisans also survived on the basis of providing their services to patrons in exchange for payment and sustenance. Many travelled seasonally from their home settlements by sea and by land to exchange their skills and products for material gain. Their role as outsiders within societies based upon mixed farming regimes of cereal cultivation and animal husbandry is illustrated by their obligation to blow a horn or ring a bell prior to entering a settlement, while away from their families. The possessions buried with the Tattershall smith are quite staggering, and included a fine seax and an amulet wrapped in silk, a box of tools and a portable anvil, and hack silver and weighing scales for bullion measurement and exchange transactions (Hinton 2000). Even though he was wealthy materially, however, contemporary and later Anglo-Saxon law codes of the seventh to ninth centuries do not suggest that such itinerant specialists possessed an elevated social status. In this case, functional role created a level of portable wealth beyond likely social rank. Following likely small-scale mercantile enterprises at convenient landing places by seafaring and artisan populations, larger permanent port settlements emerged from the mid seventh century. The initiative for their development could have been mercantile alone but by the eighth century, ruling powers in northwest Europe and Scandinavia had imposed an element of control over the ports to raise revenue from seaborne trade in bulk commodities by taking tolls in new silver coins, sceattas, struck from the later decades of the seventh to the mid eighth century. The initiative behind the striking of many of the sceatta coinages was not necessarily regal, however. Series R was probably struck at the port of Ipswich, series H at Southampton, series G possibly at Quentovic, series E possibly at Dorestad and series X probably at Ribe. Yet, there is no evidence that the moneyers were working primarily for royal patrons, between the 690s and 730s. They could equally have been working for themselves, possibly doubling as fine-metalworking smiths like the moneyers of the tenth and eleventh centuries. The origin of the silver used to strike most of the early sceatta issues is also a mystery and its procurement would have required the exchange of other goods. The new larger ports do not seem to have been founded due to a concerted attempt by northwest European rulers to stimulate new trade

Final conclusions

as a result of isolation from the Mediterranean. Indeed, textual evidence, curated material in cathedral and monastic treasuries and archaeological evidence now demonstrates clearly that links with the Mediterranean, Central Asia and the Far East did not end during the seventh and eighth centuries, even though they had diminished in comparison with the early sixth century. Some goods, including silks, spices, incense and papyrus, were certainly being imported from the eastern Mediterranean through emerging ports at Comacchio and Venice in the upper Adriatic Sea, from the later seventh and eighth centuries (McCormick 2001; Gelichi 2009). The location of specialist artisan families and coastal merchant–seafarer households at the new large ports placed together greater concentrations of people who already operated, in part, on the basis of trade for profit, than had previously existed in early medieval northern Europe. Whilst landed elites taxed and patronised specialist production and trade at these centres, the perhaps unintended outcome was also to produce mercantile households with considerable portable wealth but, perhaps, not an equivalent high social status, during the eighth and ninth centuries. Hence, the roots of what historians such as Lopez (1976) called the ‘commercial revolution’ should be seen in the materially wealthy households of the major ports of the later seventh to ninth centuries, who gained in wealth by loose alliance with ruling powers at the emporia. Specialist roles and coastal living environments, therefore, had always promoted exchange without social obligation for profit. Concentrating those commercial actors in large ports started to change the balance between the importance of profit-led trade on the one hand, and lord–client-based exchange to reinforce the social status quo on the other. This was to have dramatic consequences for social change during the tenth and eleventh centuries.

Lordship and the dynamism of rural and mercantile communities By the mid ninth century, the Carolingian empire had divided into three, and West Francia had emerged as a political and social entity, even though it was fragmenting into regional principalities by the early decades of the tenth century. At the same time, by contrast, the West Saxon dynasty was forging the imperial construct that was to become the kingdom of England. Yet, much of the east and north of the country was still held under Scandinavian hegemony. During this same period, the rural landscapes of northwest Europe were transformed by the emergence of new estate

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centres, some of them with fortifications, and by reorganisation of their associated landscapes. There was also a demonstrable increase in wealth for some existing farming families of middling social rank, in both England and France. For example, some of the farming households that had existed since the mid seventh century at Serris (Seine-et-Marne) grew much more prosperous when there was no estate centre in close proximity, for much of the tenth century, while at Raunds–Furnells (Northamptonshire), one particular farming household seems to have grown in wealth to become the focus of a manorial estate centre and associated nucleated settlement or village, during the early tenth century. Raunds was in the Danelaw region of England, so there may or may not have been some stimulus from Scandinavian landowners. The creation of new manorial estates and villages in England was also associated with the reorganisation of the landscape itself into large open fields characteristic of the central Middle Ages, in a belt of territory running north to south, broadly from North Yorkshire to Dorset. Increasingly, studies of the social make-up of this village and open field territory show considerable variation up until the Domesday survey, with some villages and open-fields being inhabited by large numbers of free sokemen, and others with dependent ‘villains’ linked to major landowners. Consequently, it is becoming clear that the initiatives for the reorganisation of the rural landscape during the tenth century could have been as much communal actions by freemen or sokemen, as acts of aristocratic lordship, or cooperative ventures based on consensus. Later in the tenth century, when the rulers of northwest Europe tried to gain greater control over their coastal margins, the limits rather than the extents of their power are demonstrated by the fact that in some cases, as in West Flanders, they could not dispossess the coastal free proprietors who had lived there for centuries, and instead had to build dykes and drain land in a seaward direction, to create new landholdings for their vassals and an expanding population. It was also during the tenth century that merchant and artisan families of towns, especially those living in major river and estuarine ports, showed signs that their social status was growing to match their possession of portable wealth. This increase in status was achieved in alliance with new rulers and landed elites, who were increasingly resident in towns. In York, the combined patronage from Scandinavian rulers and the Archbishops of York, and their retinues, provided a focus of patronage and expenditure that fundamentally changed and redefined the relationship, between town and country, during the first half of the tenth century. Specialist artisans

Final conclusions

and merchant traders flocked to newly laid out tenement plots, as at Coppergate, in York; and key officials also came from Continental Europe, both the Old German- and Old French-speaking regions of Francia, to serve in official posts as moneyers for the Scandinavian kings of York. Moneyers often combined their official roles with those of goldsmiths or spice or silk merchants, and it is interesting to note that there is evidence of fine metalworking at Coppergate and signs that the occupants of the tenements were materially wealthy, possessing weapons, silk garments, and fine riding gear. They also indulged in social practices that had been largely the preserve of landed aristocrats, between the seventh and ninth centuries, including falconry, as suggested by the presence of goshawk bones from Coppergate. The practice of hunting and the evident ability to move over land quickly on horseback also bring into relief another tenth-century development: town-based merchants also purchased or were granted rural estates. These purchases and gifts of land are recorded from the 960s but they could have occurred earlier too, as the Coppergate evidence might suggest. Hence, the distinction between local landed elites and merchants was blurring, in terms of defining social practices during the tenth century. In Flanders, too, the distinction between the power and wealth of landed rural elites, and artisans and merchants dealing in cloth and other commodities, was also disappearing in principal port towns. By the mid tenth century, the mercantile population of Ghent made up the majority of the city. By the mid eleventh century, the leading merchants of Ghent had founded their own corporation, albeit with the assent of the Count of Flanders, who was subsequently largely excluded from the mercantile regulation and government of the town. By the early to mid twelfth century, the economic and political power of the merchant–patricians in Ghent was marked by over thirty stone town-houses, some with monumental stone towers that mimicked those of contemporary stone donjons, and more specifically the residence of the Count in Ghent. This demonstration of the power of the merchant–patricians of Ghent by the mid eleventh century, and its expression in stone fifty years later, represents a consciousness of collective identity on the part of that urban elite at least two centuries before historians such as Braudel suggested an equivalent self-awareness of difference from the rural world for the citizens of medieval towns more generally, especially in the Italian urban republics (Braudel 1981, 510–14). In southern and western England, there seems to have been a closer and less competitive alliance between state government and mercantile activities, with the foundation of planned burghal towns as defended centres, mints and markets, for the administration and taxation of regional shire

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territories. Many of these planned centres did not gain sufficiently diverse and large resident populations to merit them being called towns, until the late tenth and eleventh centuries. Existing major ports were also made burghal centres, however, without large linked rural territories. They certainly did have large and diverse mercantile populations, and in ports like London there was also close cooperation between governmental and mercantile interests for mutual benefit. Social mobility for leading merchant families was often achieved through the holding of governmental offices combined with trading activity (Campbell 1987, 209–10). Some leading moneyers in London were also leaders in the spice and silk trade in the eleventh and early twelfth centuries, with Atlantic trade networks across the Bay of Biscay with northern and Islamic Spain, as important as connections with the Mediterranean, via the Rhine valley, the Alps and Venice (Nightingale 1995). The later tenth- and eleventh-century merchant occupants of the commercial heart of London, from Cheapside to the Queenhithe waterfront, also possessed silks and imported luxury foods like grapes and figs. Furthermore, as in Ghent, by the early twelfth century they were building stone town-houses from Milk Street to the waterfront, to add to their family churches constructed in the eleventh. From the later tenth century, moneyers, goldsmiths, master masons and other artisans from London to Worcester were also granted rural estates as reward for holding offices. By the mid twelfth century at the latest, the mercantile corporation of London had an awareness of its distinctive collective identity and power, equivalent to that held in Ghent a century earlier. By the mid eleventh century, therefore, major magnates, local lords, officials and wealthy merchants all held residences in towns and rural estates. The social mobility for wealthy merchants and officials of port cities and major towns had been startling, between c. 950 and 1050. The townscapes of northwest Europe were heavily contested spaces between those whose authority and wealth were based on rural landholding and those whose growing wealth was based on manufacturing and trade of portable goods and commodities. On the basis of archaeological and standing building evidence from the early to mid twelfth century, it becomes very difficult to distinguish a town-house of a landed aristocrat from a town-house of a rich merchant–patrician, especially as both rented space or bought and sold their town houses to and from each other. This picture of social mobility in the townscapes of tenth- to twelfth-century northwest Europe is very far removed from images of social mobility through conquest during the eleventh and twelfth centuries, and constraint and oppression for the conquered.

Final conclusions

In contrast to most historians, some archaeologists still interpret the developments of the eleventh to thirteenth centuries as a consequence largely of lordly direction, whether secular or ecclesiastical. They allow limited independence of action for the free peasantries of northwest Europe and often do not even consider the merchant urban and rural landowners of the major towns as significant social actors in this era. This may be due to a rather static view of the actions of lordship and government in what used to be called the ‘feudal age’, and a misplaced assumption that the increased constraints imposed on rural populations in the later twelfth century were also a feature of the later tenth to early twelfth. In contrast, the conclusion of this study emphasises the dynamism of the tenth to early twelfth centuries, which provided opportunities for greater social freedom in the rural agricultural and urban mercantile worlds. This resulted ultimately in the arrival of seafaring urban patricians as a leading political force, when they led the English contingent, rather than the landed aristocracy, at the siege of Lisbon in 1147, during the Second Crusade. And in Flanders, the collective power of the urban patricians of towns such as Ghent and Bruges resulted in the deposition of a Frenchsponsored Count of Flanders, in favour of a candidate acceptable to the Flemish cities in 1127. The tragedy for the rural peasantries of the later twelfth and thirteenth centuries was that they lost many of their freedoms, whereas the wealth and rights of urban patricians were to increase to the point where they would rival those of many landed aristocrats. There was increasing consultation of town burgesses by kings of England at nascent parliaments from the 1220s, culminating in the Statute of Merchants in 1285 and borough representation alongside that of the rural shires, thus laying the foundations of the representative democracies of modern-day Britain and North America (Maddicott 2010, 204 and 298).

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Abbreviations AFAM ARCHEA BAR CADW CBA CLAU CNAU CNRS CRAHM CRAM DAF DARA EFR ESTMA FERACF FNRS HBMC HMSO IAP IPP MOLAS ROB UCL UMR YAT

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Association française d’archéologie mérovingienne Association en Région Centre pour l’histoire et l’archéologie British Archaeological Report National Heritage Agency for Wales Council for British Archaeology City of Lincoln Archaeology Unit Centre national d’archéologie urbaine Centre national de recherche scientifique Centre national d’archéologie et de l’histoire médiévale Centre national d’archéologie médiévale Documents d’archéologie française Documents d’archéologie en Rhône-Alpes et en Auvergne École française de Rome European Symposium of Teachers of Medieval Archaeology Fédération pour l’édition de la Revue archéologique du centre de la France Fond national de recherche scientifique Historic Buildings and Monuments Commission (now English Heritage) Her Majesty’s Stationery Office Instituut voor het Archeologisch Patrimonium Institute for Pre- and Protohistoric Archaeology, Amsterdam Museum of London Archaeology Service Rijksdienst voor het Oudheidkundig Bodemonderzoek Université catholique de Louvain-la-Neuve Unité mixte de recherche York Archaeological Trust

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Index

Aachen Carolingian palace, 115, 119 rotunda palatine chapel of Charlemagne, 225 Aalborg, 313 Aarhus, 313 abacus, 258, 321 Abd-al-Rahman III, caliph of Al-Andalus, 233 Aberlemno, 262 accounting, 117 activity zones, 60 Ada, wife of Wibert, Count of Aquitaine, 215 Adalbero of Laon, 22 Adémar of Chabannes, 233 Adinkerke (West Flanders), coin finds, 193 administrative towns, 302 Adomnàn of Iona, 20 Adriatic Sea, 20 Adur, River, 354 Ælfgar, king's thegn, 267 Ælfric, abbot of Eynsham, 22, 128, 207, 258, 277, 319 Ælfric's Colloquy, 207 aerial photographs, 76, 83, 130 Æthelfrith of Bernicia and Northumbria, 170 Æthelred the Unready, King of England, 353 Æthelstan, King of England, 335, 344 Æthelstan, son of Æthelred the Unready, 268 Æthelwald Moll of Northumbria, 175 Æthelwulf of Wessex, 121, 354 father of Alfred the Great, 344 pilgrimage to Rome, 344 Africa, north, 201 Agde, Council of, in 152 agency of social change, 7–8, 12, 27, 29 for village formation, 284 agriculture in and on peripheries of townscapes, 168 Aidan, Abbot of Lindisfarne, Bishop of the Northumbrians, 170 aisled buildings, See buildings Aisne, River, 10 valley, 201

Alan Barbetorte, Count of Brittany, 335 Alan the Great of Brittany, 136 Al-Andalus, 115, 123, 183, 204 Albon (Dauphiné), donjon, 245 Alchred of Northumbria, 175 Alcuin of York, Abbot of St Martin of Tours, 177, 179 Aldfrith of Northumbria, sceattas of, struck between AD 685 and 705, 190 ale, 252 Alfred the Great of Wessex, 22, 25, 180, 343 concepts behind burhs, 343 pilgrimage to Rome, 344 Al-Hakkam, caliph of Al-Andalus, 233 Al-Idrisi, Moroccan-born geographer working in Sicily for Roger II, between c. 1138 and 1154, 323 alienable exchange, 19, 206 allod holders, 23, 36, 42 Alps foothills, 289 mountains, 20 Alsace region, 73 Altfrid, Life of St Liudger, 179 Altofonte (Sicily) courtyard palace of Roger II, 247 hunting park, 248 Amazon rainforest, 157 Amiens mint, 156 town, 69, 71 anchorages, 153 ancillary buildings, 60 Andenne ware, 253, 347. See also pottery Andone (Charente) castrum, castle, 226, 233 ceramic hunting horn, 265 crossbow trigger mechanism, 266 discs from hauberk or byrnie, 269 enamelled disc brooch, 255 angel sculptures, 176 Angers burgus Andecavensis merchant community, 333

433

434

Index

Angers (cont.) comital and episcopal foci, 333 development of the town, 333 market places, 334 monasteries Ronceray, 334 St Aubin, 334 St Nicholas, 334 port landing places, 334 replacement of bridge across the River Maine in stone, 334 suburbium civitas, 334 Via triumphalis of Fulk Nerra, 334 Anglo-Saxon merchants, 153, 174, 179 Anglo-Scandinavian towns, 277 animal husbandy, specialist, 186 annexes. See buildings anthropological theories, 6, 12, 15–16, 18 Antonine Wall, 120 anvil, 143 Apostle pillars, 176 aqueducts, 115 Aquitaine Dukes of, 233 region, 221 Arab conquests, 14–15, 19 arabic numerals, 258, 321 Arctic, 180, 256 Arculf, 20 Ardenne forest, 220 Argentan (Orne), prospering of peasants on urban fringe, 338 aristocracy, 10–11, 95, 99, 124, 128, 191–2, 199 aristocrats, 45, 68, 75, 114, 221 households of, 206 lifestyles of, 166 Arles, (Bouches-du-Rhône) mint, 119 armour, 134, 255, 286, 289, 315 chain-mail, 266–7 greave (leg guard), 269 iron discs sewn on to leather, 266 mailcoats, 267, 269 scale, 266, 269 Arnau Mir de Tost, Catalan aristocrat, 252, 255 arrowheads, 90, 266, 289 artificer, 349 artisans, 4, 17, 19, 22, 25, 28, 118, 142, 153, 158, 168, 174, 205–6, 211–12, 232, 257, 302, 310, 316, 328, 333 holding public offices, 302 households of, 206 migration to towns, 312

purchasing or being granted rural estates, 302 specialist, 4, 14, 72, 277 Asia, 120 central, 121, 123, 309 Asia Minor, 122 astrolabe, 258, 321 Atcham (Shropshire), settlement, estate centre, 130 Atlantic Approaches, 196, 198 Atlantic Ocean, 142, 146 fringes, coast, 92, 96, 103–4, 106, 108, 168 maritime networks, 143, 203–4, 320 maritime zone, 203 salt trade, 194, 320 slave trade, 320 Attigny (Aisne), Carolingian palace, estate centre, 115, 118 Auberoche, 250–1 Augustinian mission, 112 Augustinians, the, 301 Augustus Caesar, 233 aula, 136. See also hall authority, public, 218 Avar invasions, 15 Avenum, merchant quarter of Orléans, 168 Avranches (Manche), donjon, 227 Avre, River, 225 axes, 195, 289 axial plan, 126, 132, 134 Badorf ware, 117, 125, 193, 195 See also pottery Baie de Bourgneuf, 179 bailey, 220 courtyard, 222 ring-work ramparts, 222 balances, See exchange Baldwin II, King of Jerusalem, 259 Baldwin V, Count of Flanders, 356 Baldwin VII, Count of Flanders, 270 Ballinderry 2 crannog (Co. Offaly), 142 Baltic Sea, 15, 181 Bamburgh (Northumberland), fortified centre, Northumbrian royal centre, 144, 170 Bangor (Gwynedd), Romanesque cathedral, 238 Bantham Ham (Devon), beach landing place, market, seasonal settlement, 201 Barcelona Catalan County of, 160 cathedral and episcopal palace complex, 108, 160

Index

comital residence, 160 excavations of cathedral and episcopal complex, 156 Barking Abbey (Essex), monastery, 137 barley, 67, 77, 92, 94–5 barrow, 62, 94, 103 See also burial mound barter, 210 Barton Bendish (Norfolk) five manors in 1066, owned by freemen and a freewoman, 279 loosely nucleated village, 279 basse-cour, See bailey Bay of Biscay, 54, 194, 202, 353 Bayeux Tapestry, 263, 269 beach landing sites, 183, 189 beacon fortifications, 221 beaked whale, 90 bear, 166 bear claws, 117 bear-skin cloak, 117 brown, 255 bearing of arms, 289 Beaugency (Loiret), donjon, castle, 231 Beaulieu-les-Loches (Indre-et-Loire), monastery of, 234 Beaumont (Oxford), palace, 245 Beaumont-sur-Oise (Val-d'Oise), donjon, castle, 231 Beaumont-sur-Sarthe (Sarthe), donjon, castle, 228 beaver, 166 Bede, Ecclesiastical History, 178 behavioural settings, 361 bells, 208, 278 used by travellers to announce their presence, 208 belt buckle sets, 102–3 Belvoir, castle of the Knights Hospitaller, 257 Benedict III, Pope, 121 Benedict Biscop, 113 Benedictine reforms, 114, 120, 176, 234 Benedictine rule, 271, 298 Beowulf, 178 Berbers, 15 Bernard of Clairvaux, 300 Bertram II de Verdun, 223 Beverley (East Yorkshire) horticulture, dark earth, 165 Lurk Lane, monastery, 137, 189 Biddle, Martin, 20 Biéville-Beuville (Calvados), settlement, estate centre, 110, 202

billhook, 93 bipartite estates, 9–10, 36, 42–3, 124, 141 Birsay (Mainland, Orkney), settlement, estate centre, central place, 95, 142 bishoprics based at monasteries in northern Britain, 170 bishops, 21, 108, 155, 162–3, 169, 171 of Amiens, 225 British, 170 of Cologne, 225 of Llandaff, 291 of Orléans, 336 of Selsey, 200, 279 of Tongres–Maastricht–Liège, 159 bishops' palaces, 246 Bishopstone (Sussex) courtyard plan, 279 estate centre, manorial centre, 199–200, 279 bison, 132 Black Death, the, 360 black rat, 309 Black Sea, 101 blackberry, 67 black-burnished ware, 184, 188, 193 See also pottery Blair, John, 85, 171 Blois (Loir-et-Cher), château, discs from hauberk or byrnie, 269 boar, 47, 55, 67–8, 94, 117, 132, 166, 252, 289 boats, 146 log, 182 Boethius, 22 bog iron, 97 Bökelnburg (Schleswig-Holstein), ringfort, 220 bone- and antler-working, 70 Bookland, 36, 85, 141 Boos (Seine-Maritime), cemetery, 44 Bordeaux mint, 194 port, town, 204 region around, 107 Borg (Lofoten Islands, Norway), chieftain's settlement, estate centre, 304 boroughs, 25, 330, 352, 358 founded in border regions, 358 judicial definition of a town, 352 rural villages with a market and sometimes a mint, 358 rural villages with urban status, 352 Bosham (Sussex), 352 estate centre, 200 harbour, 200

435

436

Index

Boston (Lincolnshire), town, 77 Boulogne-sur-Mer (Pas-de-Calais) lighthouse, town, 115 port, 178 Bourras (Nièvre), Cistercian monastery, 299 Boves (Somme) Cluniac priory, 225 estate centre, castle, 225, 239 Bovigny, 140 Bowcombe (Isle of Wight), settlement, metalwork scatter, market?, 200 bows and arrows, 266 Bramford (Suffolk), settlement, 81 Brebières (Pas-de-Calais), settlement, 33 Breedon-on-the-Hill (Leicestershire), angel sculpture, 176 Breteuil (Sarthe), double-ring-work castle, 239 Brevium Exempla, 134 bridges, 168, 218 on pilgrimage routes, 219 Bridlington (East Yorkshire), monastery, 189 Bristol Benedictine priory of St James, 353 development of the port town, 352 Romanesque stone town-house, 327 bronze, 319 brooches, 143, 156 disc, 226 enamelled, 255 Domburg type, 196 penannular, 97 pewter disc, 354 safety-pin type, 97 small equal-armed, 196 Bruges development of the town, c. 900–1150, 341 fortified residence/palace of Counts of Flanders, 224 mint, 225 refuge of Godwin and sons, 1050s, 342 buckles, 110 Buckquoy (Mainland, Orkney), settlement, 95 building, principal residential, 67, 80, 126, 130–1, 134, 136, 141, 145, 254, 275, 279 buildings with annexes, 130 dry-stone footings/construction, 46–7, 80, 85, 109–11, 145 earth-fast timber construction, 51, 89, 105, 111, 126, 128, 188 masonry construction, 85, 111

multicelled wooden, 111 post-hole foundations, 77 post-in-trench foundations, 77 replacement of, 60 spatial organisation of, 41, 46–7, 49, 59, 62, 221 standing, 5 sunken featured, 62, 89–90, 126 Buiston crannog (Ayrshire), 123 bulk goods, 16, 19, 204 burgenses, 330 burgesses, 9, 23–4, 200, 260, 313, 330, 352, 354, 358 acting as drivers for royal hunts, 260 status of, 24 burghal forts, 221 burghal ports, role in procuring silver for coinage, 345 burgus Sancti Martini, Tours, 154 burhs, 25, 218, 344 agricultural households, 348 archaeological character, 344 aristocratic landowners purchasing urban haga estates, 348 artisan and merchant populations, 348 defences Hereford, Oxford, Stafford, 346 of shire central places, 345 Worcester, extension of Roman earthworks, 346 horticulture and agriculture within walled circuits, 347 moneyers working in, 348 refurbishment of Roman walled circuits, London, Winchester, Rochester, 346 relationship of burghal ports to rural territories, 345 shire central places, 344 as model for Rouen?, 335 to shire towns, 347 urban artisans granted rural estates by landed magnates, 348 urban pottery industries, 347 burial grounds, 60, 63, 140 See also cemetery; graves burial groups, 61 burial practices, 100 diversity of, 140, 152 in association with estate church/parish church, 50 burials in basilica and mortuary chapels, 103 furnished, 139, 201

Index

isolated, 38, 62, 65, 140 Bury Bible, 323 Bury St Edmunds (Suffolk) monastery of, 324 urban growth around monastery, 355 Bussy-Saint-Georges ‘Les Dix-huit Arpents’ (Seine-et-Marne) church and cemetery, 62, 75 settlement, 58–9 Bussy-Saint-Martin (Seine-et-Marne), 37 butchery marks, 69 Buzenol (Belgian Lorraine), embryonic castle, 220 byrnie, short mailcoat, 268 Byzantine, 15, 101, 115, 121, 123, 230–1, 257, 309, 315 coinage, 258 emperors, 19 imagery used by the Ottonians, 233 imperial symbolism, 116 lead seal from Winchester, 258 master-builder, 233 merchants, 153, 179 military recruitment in Anglo-Saxon England, 258 Byzantine–Persian wars, 15 Byzantium, 119, 123, 232 Ca'Vendramin Calergi, Venice, merchant–patrician's house, 252 Cadiz, 204 Caerwent (Gwent), Roman town, central place, estate centre, monastery, 151 Caesarea, Cathedral of St Peter, 259 caliphs, 123 Callebaut, Dirk, 229 ‘Camp de Péran’, Plédran (Côtes-d'Armor), ringfort, 136, 216 canonical zone, Tournai, dark earth, 166 canons, 172 Canterbury Archbishops of, 187, 170 cathedral, Kentish royal centre, monasteries, 112 Christ Church Cathedral, 172 destination for lead from Peak District, 187 mint, 137, 175 Romanesque stone town-houses, 351 St Peter and St Paul, monastery of, 172 Capetians, 222, 231–2 capital cities, 25 Cardiff (Glamorgan), castle, 236

Carew (Pembrokeshire) Cross, 295 promontory castle, 295 takeover of Welsh estate centre, 295 Carisbrooke (Isle of Wight) castle, 236 shell keep, 242 Carlton Colville (Suffolk), settlement, estate centre, 85, 88–9 Carolingian emperors, 17, 19, 114–15, 119 imperial architecture, 230 imperial identity, 114, 120, 122 mausoleum at Saint-Denis, 232 symbols of power, 232 Carousel, Paris, evidence of horticulture, 169 cart wheel, 52 Carver, Martin, 104 cash rents, 279 cashel, See ringfort castellum, 224 Castelseprio (Varese), settlement, fortified centre, 106 Castle Acre (Norfolk), Cluniac priory, 244 manor house, donjon, castle, 243 Castle Rising (Norfolk), 243 Castlemartin (Pembrokeshire), ring-work castle, 295 castles, 28, 222 built in burghal shire towns in England, 236 defensive role, 222 earth and timber, 293 embryonic, 220 at former royal estate centres in Britain, 236 landscape settings, 222 manorial centres converted into small castles, 244 military role, 229 motte and ring-work castles, 238 symbolic role, theatres of power, 222 castrum, 167, 224 cathedral group, 21, 108, 152, 155, 160, 167 cathedrals, 114, 152, 155, 172 Catholme (Staffordshire), settlement, 90 cats, 96 cattle age when killed, 125, 131 principal domesticate consumed, 125, 128, 131 as a proportion of main domesticated livestock consumed, 47, 55, 68, 92, 94, 96, 106, 132, 136

437

438

Index

cattle (cont.) raised in coastal saltmarshes, 77, 183, 186 rise in consumption of, c. 700–900, 69 social value of, 93, 131 Cemaes, 296 cemeteries duration of use, 54 enclosed, in Ireland, 92 extramural, 151, 162 multiple burial foci within settlements, 139–40 small, associated with farms/hamlets, 54, 81 cemetery associated with mortuary chapel/funerary church, 62, 65, 90, 109, 132 barrow, 94 enclosed, 94, See burials Late Antique (fourth to fifth century), 160 not associated with a chapel/church, 65 parish, 65 central Middle Ages, 25, 75, 312 central places, 28 Centre National d'Archéologie Urbaine, 333 Ceolnoth, Archbishop of Canterbury, penny coinage of, 175 ceramics, See pottery cereals, 42, 67, 76–7, 79, 81, 84, 93–4, 149, 182, 193, 290 Ceresiacum, 42 cetaceans, 211, 251 See also dolphins; porpoises; whales chain-mail, 269, 289 chalk coastlines of the Côte Opale, 178 of Kent, 178 chamber buildings, 226 champion landscapes, 284 Channel, the, 15, 19, 33, 51–2, 55, 73, 83, 98, 119, 125, 178, 180–1, 196, 198 networks, 200 Charavines-Colletière (Dauphiné) discs from hauberk or byrnie, 269 fortifed farm, small estate centre, 287 Charente, River, 54, 183, 195, 203 estuary, 183, 194, 202 Charlemagne, 111, 114–15, 118–19, 156, 177, 233 Charles Martel, 120 Charles the Bald, 44, 71, 95, 110, 118, 120, 122, 135, 150, 216, 218, 225, 331, 343 Charles the Fat, 135, 218

Charles the Simple, 216, 306 Charleville-Mézières (Ardenne), central place, town, 18 ‘Château des Fées’, Bertrix (Ardenne), periodically used fortification, 215 Château Gaillard ‘Le Recourbe’ (Ain), settlement, 34, 57–8 Château Thierry (Aisne) dark earth/terre noire, 164 estate centre, castle, town, 117 Cheapside, London, 316, 352 Cheddar (Somerset), royal estate centre, minster, 86, 245 Chelles (Île-de-France) monastery, 120 relics from, 19 Chelsea, Council of, in 816, 176 Chennebrun (Eure), borough, 360 Chepstow (Gwent), donjon, castle, 236 chess, played in elite and urban contexts, 257 chessmen, 221, 289 Arab/Islamic-style non-figurative forms, 256 bone/antler, 256 hoard from the Isle of Lewis, 256 ivory and rock crystal, 256 Chessy ‘Le Bois de Paris’ (Seine-et-Marne) graves/cemetery, 38 mortuary chapel, 44 settlement phases, 38 two-aisled building, 38 Chester (Cheshire), 165 chevaliers–paysans, 289 chevauchée, 269 chickens, 47 Childeric grave, 104 China, 121 chopping blocks, 211. See also whale vertebrae Christendom, 3, 183 Christian epigraphic memorials, 102 Christianisation of space, 155 Christ-in-Majesty (Maiestas Domini) image, 230 church built in masonry, 18, 63, 151, 155 location within settlements, 63, 91, 111 mortuary church/chapel, 18, 44, 63, 151, 155 parish, 53, 65 timber, 112 replacement of, in stone, 64 Church of the Holy Sepulchre, 118 churches construction of, 61 monastic, 113

Index

church-wright, 349 cider, 252 cinnabar, 122 Cirencester (Gloucestershire) dark earth, 165 urban growth around monastery, 355 Cissbury (Sussex), burghal fort, 221 Cistercians, 271, 298 ironworkings, 292 myth, 299 Cîteaux (Côte-d’Or), Cistercian monastery, 298 civitas, 154 Clairvaux (Aube), Cistercian monastery, 299 clapper bell, 80 Clofesho, Council of, in 803, 176 cloisonné garnet, 144 cloister, 111 at royal palaces, 246 Clonmacnoise (Co. Offaly), monastery, 104, 108 closure deposit, 278 clothing fashion, 258 colours of, for export, 310 Cluniac order, 271 Cluny (Saône-et-Loire) annual gifts of gold from kings of LeónCastille and Navarre, 235 monastery of, 234 urban growth around monastery, 355 Cnut the Great of Denmark and England, 26, 267, 271 coastal islands, 183 margins, 178, 189 marshes, 183 populations, transformation of world-view, 312 producers, specialist, 206 regions, 182 salterns, 201 seaways, 190 societies, 18, 28, 180, 182, 194, 201, 361 waterways, 73 coasts, 4, 14, 16, 55, 77, 90, 93, 96, 182, 201 cod, 96, 186, 198, 202, 251 coinage gold, struck in Francia, 154 as indicator of networks, 181, 189 minted under (archi)episcopal authority in England, 83, 172, 175 presence in coastal zones, 73, 186, 202, 361 silver, on rural settlements in Francia, 71, 110, 117, 131, 139 use at estate centres, 134, 188

coins, 20, 200 found by metal-detector, 83 in graves, 139 Colchester donjon, 236 Romanesque stone town-houses, 351 town, 351 collection centre, 86 Collège de France, Paris dark earths/terres noires, 165 settlement activity, 167 Cologne Cathedral, 103 burials, 105 ivory workshops, 256 town, 72, 79, 89 colonica estates, 43, 141 Riniaco, 111 colonisation, 77 and drainge of wetlands, 275 deforestation to create arable land, 275 of upland/mountain regions, 275 columns, 115, 233 capitals, 115, 120 Comacchio (Ferrara), port, emporium, town, 20, 183 comital residences, 106, 228 commercial revolution, the, 363 commodity production, specialist, 181 communication corridors, 14, 82 community, 7 Compiègne (Oise) Carolingian palace, estate centre, town, 115 castellum, 331 development from Carolingian palace to town, 331 estate centre, Carolingian palace, town, 114, 118–19, 150 rotunda palatine chapel of Charles the Bald, 225, 232 Conches (Eure), de Tosny lords of, 240 connectivity, 20, 28, 91, 97, 179, 181, 183 between east and west, 259 Conques (Aveyron), monastery of St Foy, 235 Constantine the Great, 118 consumer sites, 24 consumption conspicuous, 74, 85, 106, 110, 116, 128–9, 132, 136, 139, 142, 145, 186, 249, 255, 277

439

440

Index

conspicuous public leisure, 259 cooking, 60 co-operation between rulers and mercantile interests, 328 copper, 319 copper alloy, 97 Coppergate excavations, York, 306, 309 ansate-type brooch, 310 consumption of sturgeon, 313 Coppergate helmet, 267, 310 multiple ethnic influences on mercantile households, 310 riding gear, 310 silver-inlaid wooden saddle, 310 weapons, 310 wildfowling, falconry evidence, 313 yellow silk bonnet, 310 Corbeilles (Loiret), ploughshare, 45 Corbeny (Aisne), Carolingian palace, estate centre, 118–19 Corbie (Somme) monastery, 148, 320 purchase of pepper and ginger from Cambrai, 320 Corbridge (Northumberland), watermills, estate centre, monastery, 147 Córdoba, 115, 119 cathedral group, 108 Great Mosque/Mesquita, 233 Mihrab of Great Mosque, 233 Cordovan leather, 255 Cordwainer Street, London, 322 Corfe (Dorset), castle, 236 coriander, 123, 211, 309 cormorants, 96, 289 Corvey (Nord Rhein-Westfalen), monastery, 120 Cottam (East Yorkshire), settlement, 83 cotton, 258 Cotton Collection of manuscripts, 178, 252, 263 Council of Agde, in 506, 152 of Chelsea, in 816, 176 of Clofesho, in 803, 176 counters, for tables, nine-men's morris, merels, 256 countryside, 150, 177, 277 Counts, 21, 152, 162 of Amiens, 225 of Angoulême, 226 of Anjou, 167 of Barcelona, 235

of Blois-Champagne, 227 of Champagne, 220 of Flanders, 216, 229 of Maine, 223, 229 of Omois-Vermandois, 220 of Poitou, 233 of Toulouse, 235 of Verdun, 229 of Vermandois, 225 courtyard, 42, 46–7, 106, 110, 131, 134, 140, 226, 246–7, 279 covered, at royal palaces, 246 ‘Cowage Farm’, Foxley (Wiltshire), settlement, assumed estate centre, 130 Cowdery's Down (Hampshire) principal building, 130 settlement, estate centre, 86, 89, 112 craft specialists, 19, 72, 85, 142, 208 craft-working, 60, 126 cranes, 67, 94, 128, 166, 187, 207, 250, 255, 263–4, 313 crannog, settlement on modified or artifical island, 106 Craywick (Nord), settlement, 202 Crèvecoeur-en-Auge (Calvados) castle, 256 walrus ivory chessmen, 256 crop processing, 42, 60, 86, 93, 149 Cross of St Cuthbert, 144 crossbow, 229, 263, 266 bolt, 221, 289 quarrel, 266 crow, 67 crucibles, 89, 91, 97, 111, 136, 142 See also nonferrous metalworking Crundale, 295 Crusades First, 258 Second, 26, 325 cullet, 205 cult houses, 107 cups, 252 curtis, 42, 134, 141 Cwmhir, 301 dalmatic, 121 Danelaw, the, 276, 282 dark earth, 156, 162, 164, 167 micromorphology of, 163 ‘dark soil’, See dark earth David I of Scotland, 238, 241 patronage of Cistercian houses, 301 de Cardiff family, 265

Index

deer, 67–8, 70, 95, 106, 117, 260 See also fallow deer; red deer; roe deer deer-hunting scenes on stone sculpture, 262 ‘Deer Park Farms’, Glenarm (Co. Antrim), settlement, rath, ringfort, 93, 148 Deheubarth, 297, 300–1 Demer, River, 48 demesne, 10 demise and transformation of emporia ports, 303 demographic evidence, from rural estate centres and monasteries, 141 demographic growth, 33, 81, 275, 334, 352 dendrochronological dates, 146 denier, 125, 129, 136, 175, 187, 216 silver coin, 44, 71, 111, 156, 194. See also coinage Deorman, London moneyer family of moneyers, 321 granted rural estates by Edward the Confessor and William the Conqueror, 322 merchant in spices and silks, 322 monk at Bury St Edmunds, 1120s–1140s, 324 overseer of mint workshops, 322 deposit formation, 58 designed landscapes, 24, 222, 239 Deule, River, 356 Develier-Courtételle (Jura), settlement, ironsmithing, non-ferrous metalworking, craft specialists, 72 dice, 256, 289 dill, 123, 309 dinar, gold coin, 120 of the Fatimid caliphate in north Africa, 321 Dinas Powys (Glamorgan), settlement, fortified centre, 106 Diocesan centres, 151, 153, 155, 158, 160, 162, 172, 174 in England located at major estate centres, 343 located in former administrative Roman towns, 342 located in smaller Roman centres, 343 diocesan towns, 155, 158, 161, 168–9, 175, 330, 332 expansion in tenth and eleventh centuries, 332 refurbishment of walls, 218 dioceses, 21, 152, 177 dirhems, Islamic silver coins, 203, 309 minted at Cordoba, Spain, 203, 320

Distré ‘Les Murailles’ (Maine-et-Loire) greave (leg guard), 269 principal residential building from tenth century, 286 settlement, estate centre, 131 transformation of settlement character, 276, 287 dogs, 96 dolphins, 128, 187, 199, 207, 251, 255 hunting of, 207 Domburg (Zeeland) port, emporium, 204 ringfort, 216, 305 Domesday Book, 68, 78, 291, 350, 352 Domfront, 241 Dommelen (Kempen) graves, 49 settlement, 49–50, 58 donjon-like gate towers, 243 donjons, 167, 216, 222, 226, 241 distribution by the early eleventh century, 227 expression of state/public power, 224 masonry tower, 220 stone tower, 222 symbol of lordship/public government, 225 wooden tower, 222 Dorchester-on-Thames (Oxfordshire), diocesan centre, 173 Dordogne, River, 153 Dorestad (Frisia) ceded to Viking leader, Harold, 305 mint, 168 port, emporium, 16, 18, 49, 192, 204 provisioning of, 210 Dorney (Buckinghamshire), 126 settlement, market?, 210 Douai (Nord) Douayeul, agricultural suburb, brewery, 356 portus, merchant quarter, 356 settlement, estate centre, town, 164 transformation of wooden hall to donjon, 356 urban development of, 356 wooden hall, motte, tower, 223 Doué-La-Fontaine (Maine-et-Loire) donjon, motte, castle, 223 palace of Counts of Blois, 223 stone hall (aula), 223 Dover (Kent) donjon, castle, 245 port, 178, 198

441

442

Index

dream cities, 17 dress accessories, See jewellery Driffield (East Yorkshire), modern town, Northumbrian royal estate, 84, 184, 188, 190 drinking horns, 252, 268 drinking vessels, 252. See also glass vessels dry-stone, 81. See also buildings footings, 106, 110, 145 rampart, 144 sill, 226 Dublin Hiberno-Norse transformation of, 303 port town, 303 silk fragments from, 321 ducks, 263, 289 Dunadd (Argyll), settlement, fortified centre, 95, 97, 106, 122, 142 Dunbar (Lothian), fortified centre, Northumbrian royal centre, 144 Dunfermline (Fife), monastery, Benedictine convent, 238 Dunstan, Archbishop of Canterbury, 271 dye plants, 309 dyes, 123 dyke building, 312 and drainage, 290 by the Counts of Flanders, 290 Eadberht of Northumbria, 175 ealdormen, renting monastic estates, 137 Eanbald I, Archbishop of York, 175 Eanred II, Archbishop of York, 175 Early Middle Ages, 13, 22, 152, 163, 169, 191, 334 earth-fast foundation, See buildings Easby, 176 East Garton (East Yorkshire), settlement, 189 Eastry, 176 east–west trade, 258 Ebbo, Archbishop of Rheims, 155 ecclesiastical institutions, 187 ecclesiastical networks, 122 Ecgberht, Archbishop of York, 175 Edgar of England, 271 Edgar the Ætheling, 238 Edict of Pîtres, 343 Edinburgh (Lothian), settlement, fortified centre, castle, 95 Edith, wife of Edward the Confessor, sister of Harold II Godwinson, 254 Edmund Ironside of England, 268

Edward I of England, 263 Edward the Confessor of England, 200, 236, 271, 342 diplomatic links with Byzantine emperors, 272 Edward the Elder of Wessex, 344 Edwin of Northumbria, 171 Egypt, 266 Eifel, region, 52 elderberry, 67 elephant ivory, 258, 265 elite basis of elite status, 25, 100, 148 graves of the elite, 18 markers of elite identity, 3, 94, 100, 105, 107, 141, 149 settlement types, 33, 110, 131 as agents of social change, 4, 6, 12, 15 approaches definition archaeologically, 98–9 Christian burial practices, c. 500–700, 104 competition between landowning and merchant elites, 26 control of surpluses and exchange, 181 ecclesiastical, 25, 107, 113 merchants acting on behalf of, 17 regional, 89, 97, 102 regrand variability, c. 500–600, 105 secular, 25, 107, 113, 122 elite-led models, 74 embedded exchange, 206 emirs, 19, 115, 123 emporia, 16, 19, 153, 181, 183–4, 189, 204, 207 provisioning of, 210 emulative practices, 249 Ename (East Flanders) donjon, 230 Our Lady, church of, 230 polyfocal settlement, 229 riverside portus, 230 enamelled disc brooch, 255 enclosures, 51, 77, 86, 91, 93, 95, 112, 119, 135, 144 England, creation of Kingdom of, 344 enmottification, 223 epigraphic monuments, 111, 113 episcopal centres, 99, 150–1, 154, 170 episcopal complexes, 108 episcopal control of minting coinage, 154 over pastoral care, 152

Index

over rural priests, 152 episcopal lifestyles, 166 episcopal residences/palaces, 152 Erispoë of Brittany, 136 estate centre(s), burial at, 50 in coastal zones, 183, 186, 199 consumption practices at, 129, 199 different kinds / functions of, 74, 75 ecclesiastical, 99 fortification of, 219–20, 222 households subordinate to, 12, 50, 78, 84 problems of identification archaeologically, 73, 85, 95 regional diversity of, 48, 74 royal, 85–6, 112, 118, 150 estate(s), artisans as tenants on, 19 exploitation of marginal elements, 77, 83 fragmentation of large estates, 11–12 inventories of, 10, 134 management of, 137 merchant/artisan acquisition of rural estates, 27 networks, 118, 188 provisioning from, 116, 118 renders, 78. See also taxation-in-kind structures, 79 territories, 141 visibility in textual sources, 11 Esterlings, merchants in London who paid tolls in pepper, 315 estuaries, 183 ethnogenesis, 100 Everswell, within Woodstock palace (Oxfordshire), 247 Ewenny (Glamorgan), Benedictine priory built by de Londres family, 295 excavation areas, 57 exchange alienable exchange alongside inalienable exchange, 19 assumed elite control of, 16 at Carolingian palaces, 116, 117 in coastal zones, 55, 73, 183, 186, 192, 200, 203 on the Atlantic/Bay of Biscay, 194, 202 at estate centres, 74, 85 along major river corridors, 73 media of exchange coinage, 52 ingots of bullion, 143

by merchants and artisans, 211 duality of exchange, both for profit and on behalf of clients, 19 by merchant–peddlers, 210 of metalworking skills for goods, 72, 208 at monasteries, 85 at portus settlements, 174 for profit, 6, 16 roles of emporia ports, 180, 212 of surpluses by freemen, 55 transactions to procure luxuries and reflect status, 85 exchange networks of coastal zones, 189, 192 the Atlantic seaboard, 143 the Channel and Southern North Sea, 52, 71, 144 of diocesan towns, c. 600–900, 168 of ecclesiastical elites, 108 of emporia ports, 179 of estate centres, 134 of the Frisians, 194 of major monasteries, 120 of merchants/artisans, 308–9 of the northern British Isles, c. 600–800, 97 between northwest Europe and indirectly with Central Asia, 120 the Islamic Middle East, 121 the Mediterranean, 15, 20, 120 perceived to be linked to social status, 24 of river corridors, 71, 73 of secular elites, 108, 134 of small farming communities, 42, 50, 83–4 supporting specialist artisans, 72 extramural monasteries, outside walled episcopal cores, 158 extramural space, 151 Eynsham (Oxfordshire) monastery, 251 transformation of settlement character, 276 Faccombe Netherton, 278 fairs, 153 falconry, 94, 125, 149, 166, 239, 259, 263, 313 fallow deer, 250, 258, 262 Far East, 3 Fatimid north Africa, 247, 258, 265 feast species, 252

443

444

Index

feasting, 117, 128–9, 132, 134, 166, 249, 251, 290 feasting kits, 129, 186 Fécamp (Seine-Maritime) monastery, priory, 224 palace of Dukes of Normandy, 224 Felix III, Pope, 151 fenland, 52, 78, 178, 182 Fenland Survey, 184 Fens, the, 183–4, 291 field systems, 38, 41, 59, 77, 80, 91 field-walking, 77 surface collections from, 52, 76, 83 figs, 318, 323 First Crusade, 258 fiscus, 42 fish, 69, 96 gadid, 96 See also marine fish fish event horizon, 200 Fishamble Street/Wood Quay excavations, Dublin, 306 Fishergate, York, port, emporium, 174, 187–8, 205 fishermen, 128 fishing, 193, 198, 354 commercial, 200 Fishtoft (Lincolnshire) location next to tidal creek, 79 salt production, 77, 184 settlement, 184 Five Boroughs, the, 345 fjord-edge settlements, 196 Flanders growth of urban/mercantile collective power, 342 region, County of, 10, 48, 54, 183 flatfish, 166, 186, 251 flax, 42 Fleming, Robin, 348 Flemings, 24 Flemish colonists, Pembrokeshire, 294, 358 Flemish peasants, colonists in Pembrokeshire, 294 Flixborough (Lincolnshire), 126 ploughshare, 45 settlement, church, estate centre, monastery, 76, 88, 90, 183, 186 transformation of settlement character, 276 floor deposits, 129 flounder, 251 Fontevraud (Maine-et-Loire), Plantagenet family mausoleum, 272

Forest of Conches-Breteuil (Eure), 240 of Dean (Gloucestershire), 245, 261 tension between use for hunting, ironworking and ship-building, 292 of Ferrières (Seine-et-Marne), 276 of Gravenchon (Haute-Normandie), 239 forest law, 260 forest societies, mixed social fabric, 292 foresters, specialist, 260 forests, 289 assarting of, 290 as industrial landscapes, 261 fortification, 220 of bridgeheads, 218 fortified walled enclosures, of Late Roman towns, 151 ‘Fossés du Roy’, 360 foundation of monasteries, 270–1 founder-burials, 63–4 Fountains (North Yorkshire), Cistercian monastery, 300 fowlers, 260 fox, 67, 166 Frankfurt, Carolingian palace, town, 115, 119 Frankish merchants, 179 Frederik Barbarossa, German emperor, 357 free farmers, 11. See also free peasants; free proprietors free peasants, 11, 13–14, 23–4, 79, 193, 275, 289 See also free proprietors traders, 191 free proprietors, 12, 27, 36, 42, 50, 65, 75, 78, 188, 202, 275, 282, 287, 290, 364 See also allod holders; free peasants free status, 42, 55, 85 freemen, 78–9, 279, 282, 291 freshwater fish, 166–7 Fresnay-sur-Sarthe (Sarthe), donjon, castle, 228 Friesland, province of, Netherlands, 191 Frisia, 107, 125, 129, 183, 189, 191 region, 54, 73, 79, 107 Frisian, 17, 74, 82, 111, 144, 188, 203 coastal area, 191 dress accessories, 196 maritime networks, 196 merchant colony, York, 179, 190 merchants, 153, 174, 179, 206 sceattas, 194 settlements, 70 slave-trader, 178 trade, 196

Index

Frisians, 17, 192, 195 Fulk, Archbishop of Rheims, 155 Fulk V, Count of Anjou, King of Jerusalem, 259, 263 Fulk Nerra, Count of Anjou, 227, 231, 334, 337 funerary chapels, See mortuary church funerary churches, See mortuary church funnel beakers, 117. See also glass vessels furnishings, internal, 254, 272 furs, 67, 258 fyrd, 11, 26 gadids fish, cod, whiting, ling, 96 Galinié, Henri, 21, 150 gaming boards, 256 gannets, 96 gardens, 239 Garonne, River, 153 Garranes (Co. Cork), ringfort, 106, 142 Garryduff (Co. Cork), ringfort, 106, 142 gateway communities, 16, 20 ‘Gauber High Pasture’, Ribblehead (North Yorkshire), settlement, 80 Gaul, 106, 108 Gauzlin, Abbot of Fleury, 232, 234 gazelles, 264 geese, 47 Geldrop (Kempen), settlement, 49, 58 gender, 7, 130 Geneva cathedral group, 108 La Madeleine, church of, 155 geochemical surveys, 52 Geoffrey Martel, Count of Anjou, 227, 337 Geoffrey Plantagenet, Count of Anjou, 229 geophysical surveys, 52, 76–7, 83 Gerald of Wales (Giraldus Cambrensis), 296 Gerald of Windsor, 296 Gerard of Cambrai, 22 Germanus, Bishop of Auxerre, 169 Ghent Blandinium, 338 comital residence (aula), later ‘Castle of the Counts’, 339 development of the town, c. 850–1150, 338 donjon, Castle of the Counts, 229 fortified residence/palace of the Counts of Flanders, later the Count's castle, 224 growth of merchant independence, 342 portus Ganda, 339 Romanesque stone town-houses, 327, 340 St Bavo's Abbey, 120, 338 St Peter's Abbey, 338

estate in London, 349 town, 26 viri probi/viri hereditarii, 339 gift exchange, 16, 19, 181 Gironde estuary, 194, 203 Gisay-la-Coudre (Eure), cemetery, 44 Gisors (Vexin), shell keep, castle, 241 glacier ice cores, 81 Glasgow, Romanesque cathedral, 238 glass, 93, 319 bead-making, 205 and gold tesserae, 233 lamp, 71 smoothers, See textile production studs, 143 tesserae, 117, 205 window, 64, 117, 158, 275 glass vessels at Andone, from the castrum, 255 assumption of social status linked to, 13, 48, 55, 338 at Carolingion palaces, 117 at central places in northern and western Britain, c. 600–800, 107, 143 dating from the tenth to twelfth centuries, 252 in diocesan towns, 167 in emporia port households, 205, 212 Flixborough, found in all residential buildings at, 131 as grave-goods, 103 at monasteries 111 on rural estate centres, c. 600–900, 110, 125–6, 134, 186, 286, 132 on rural settlements in coastal zones, 52, 107, 186, 195–6, 361 along major river corridors, 48, 55, 73 from western France, imported into western Britain and Ireland, 107 glassworking, 111, 117, 143, 158, 168 Glastonbury (Somerset), monastery, 271 Gloucester (Gloucestershire), St Peter's Abbey, 265 grant of Ewenny Priory to, 295 goats, 47 goblets, 252 ceramic, 111 gods, 107 Godwinsons, the, 200 urban estates of, 348 gold, 90, 93, 97, 119, 121, 125, 143–4, 153, 191, 193, 195, 235, 315, 319, 321

445

446

Index

gold (cont.) from Al-Andalus and Byzantium, 258 armrings, 267 bowls, 121 coinage, 119, 154 crown, 121 decorated saddle and bridle fittings, 268 jewellery, 268 lettering, 122 from Mali, 321 plaques, 107 principal medium for purchase of land in late Anglo-Saxon England, 319 reliquaries, 272 and silver reliquaries, 272 vase, 252 gold-embroidered hangings, 254 gold-hilted swords, 101 goldsmiths, 362 also acted as moneyers, 322 granted rural estates from 970s, 314 goldworking, 136, 255, 309 Goltho (Lincolnshire) redating of occupation sequence, 220 ring-work, 220 small castle, 244 Gosberton (Lincolnshire), settlements, 77, 79, 184 goshawk, 94, 264, 293, 313, 351 gospel books, 272 Goudelancourt-lès-Pierrepont (Aisne), settlement, 33 Govan sarcophagus (Strathclyde), incised sculpture showing deer hunting, 262 Grado, Roman shipwreck, 205 graffiti, 111, 139 granaries, See buildings grand narrative models, 7 grapes, 318 seeds, 211 grave-markers decorated, recumbent, St Mark, Wigford, Lincoln, 349 stone, 349 graves, 18, 38, 40, 45, 47, 49, 62, 64, 90, 96, 100 alignment, 35, 47 north–south, east–west, 139 in cathedrals, 160 grazing of livestock, in townscapes, 169 Gregory, Bishop of Tours, 152 Gregory the Great, Pope, 151 Grentheville (Calvados), settlement, 58 grey-burnished ware, 184, 193 See also pottery

Groenewake (West Flanders), settlement, 53 group identity, 7 grouse, 263, 313 Grubenhäuser, 89, 105, 126, 144 See also sunken-featured buildings Gruffudd ap Cynan, Prince of Gwynedd, 238 Gruffudd ap Rhys, 294 Gudme (Funen), polyfocal settlement, rural central place, votive deposition, 107 Gumfreston, 298 Guthrifsson family, 308 Gwent levels, south Wales, 291 Gwithian (Cornwall), settlement, beach landing place, 201 habitus, 7 haddock, 211, 251 Hadrian's Wall, 80, 120 Haillot (Namur), barrows, cemetery, 103 hair, worn long by men, 258 hall, 130, 145, 254 See also aula range, 279 Hall, Richard, 309 Hallum (Friesland), coin hoard, 195 Hamage (Nord) dark earth/terre noire, 164 multi-celled building, 111 settlement, estate centre, monastery, 70, 110, 139 St Eusébie, church of, 110 St Pierre, church of, 110 transformation of settlement character, 276 Hamburg, ringfort, town, 219 Hamerow, Helena, 85 Hamwic (Southampton), ‘Six Dials’, 205 harbours, 196 hare, 47, 55, 67, 166, 252, 289 Harold I of England, 271 Harold II Godwinson of England, 271, 342 possession of a book on hunting, 261 urban estates in London, 349 usurpation of Steyning from Fécamp by 1066, 354 Hartlepool (Co. Durham), monastery, 104, 112, 137 Harz Mountains, silver mines, 318, 332 Hastings, port, town, 26 Hatch (Hampshire) one-hide estate, 279 settlement, 264, 279 hauberks, 266, 269 ‘Haus Meer’ (Kreis Neuss), moated settlement, later a motte, 287

Index

Haverfordwest (Pembrokeshire), borough, 360 hazelnuts, 67 hearths, internal, 111 Hedda stone, Peterborough (Cambridgeshire), 176 Hedeby/Haithabu (Schleswig-Holstein) pennies derived from series X ‘Wotan monster’ type sceattas, 304 port, emporium, port town, 304 Hedon (East Yorkshire), planned port, founded by Stephen of Aumale, 358 Heidinga, Anthonie, 191 Heiric of Auxerre, 22, 25 heirlooms, 267 Helias of La Flêche, Count of Maine, 228 helmets, 104, 267, 269 spangenhelm-type, 269 Helmsley (North Yorkshire), manorial centre of Walter Espec, 300 Hen Domen, Montgomery (Powys), motteand-bailey castle, 262, 293 Henry I of England, 24, 236, 241, 246, 270, 294, 299, 358 patronage of the Cistercian order, 299 Henry II of England, 223, 243, 246, 259, 270, 272, 360 Henry III of England, 263 Henry IV, Salian emperor, diplomatic links with Byzantine emperors, 272 Henry of Blois, Bishop of Winchester, 246 Hereford, burh defences, 218 Hermalle-sous-Huy (Thier d'Olne) (Ardenne) estate centre, aula, chapel, 135 settlement, 34 herons, 94, 250, 263, 289 herringbone masonry, 226, 229 herrings, 199, 207, 211, 251 Heslerton Landscape project (North Yorkshire), 13 Hexham (Northumberland), 123 monastery, 113 hierarchical relations, 55 Higham Ferrers (Northamptonshire) farmsteads, 276 manorial estate in 1066, 276 settlement, estate centre, 76, 86, 126 abandonment of, 276 high status, 12–13, 24, 48, 93, 98–9, 188, 279 hilltop forts, Late Roman, 215 Hilton of Cadboll (Inverness), sculpture showing deer hunting, 262 hinterlands, of ports, 181 hobby, 264

Hoddom (Dumfries and Galloway), monastery, 137 Hodges, Richard, 15, 17, 180 Holton-le-Clay (Lincolnshire), settlement, likely estate centre, 184, 188 Hope (Derbyshire), estate centre, 260 Hordain (Nord), mortuary chapel, cemetery, 103 Hordaland (Norway), 198 Horn of Ulf, oliphant horn, Treasury of York Minster, 266 Hørning (East Jutland) silk from barrow burial beneath church, 313 stave church, 313 horns, used by travellers to announce their presence, 208 horse-riding, 23, 68–9, 71, 132 horses, 77, 94, 96, 186, 259, 289, 315 horticulture, 21, 164, 168 in former Roman townscapes, 151 households agriculture, within towns, 21 of coastal settlements, 77 consumption practices of, 54 of dispersed farms, 42 of emporia ports, 205, 212 of free proprietors, 11, 83, 289 interior furnishing of aristocratic households, c. 950–1150, 255 of the milites social groups, 290 urban, 364 Hrolfr/Rollo, Count of Rouen, 306 Hugh Capet of France, 118, 232 Hull, River, 184 Hulsel (Kempen) ploughshare, 45 settlement, 49 Humber, River, 175 coastal region, 78 estuary, 82, 128–9, 183, 186–7, 189 Huns, 101 hunting, 28, 67, 95, 117, 125, 128–9, 132, 141, 145, 149, 166, 207, 265, 275, 278, 289 dog, 143 horns, 265 parks, 239, 245, 263 trophies, 255 huntsmen, specialist, 260 Huy (prov. Liège) central place, 18

447

448

Index

Huy (prov. Liège) (cont.) polyfocal settlement, town, Meuse valley, 154 Iberia, 107–8 Ibn Yaqub, tenth-century Arab geographer, 310 Île-de-France, 10–11, 37, 70 Île-de-la-Cité, Paris fortified bridges protecting it, in 885, 218 Merovingian palace, Carolingian palace, Hotel Dieu, episcopal centre, 117, 167 imperatores, 233 imperial buildings, 115 identity, 119, 233 itineraries, 118 symbolism, 122 inalienable exchange, 19 incense, 122–3 India, 123 Indonesia, 123 Ingelheim (Rheinland-Pfalz) aqueduct, 115 Carolingian palace, Ottonian palace, estate centre, 115, 118 gold solidus of Charlemagne from palace, 119 Ingleborough (Norfolk), settlement, 77, 79, 184 ingots, 136, 143 moulds, 97 intermarriage between Norman elite and Welsh ruling families, 262 between the Plantagenets, the Latin kingdom of Jerusalem and Norman Sicily, 259 inventories, 267 Iona (Argyll) diocesan centre, 170 monastery, 108, 170 Ipswich (Suffolk) Buttermarket cemetery, 207 mint for series R sceattas, 187, 209 port, emporium, town, 16, 79, 91, 184, 187 Ipswich ware, 78, 91, 137, 184, 186, 188, 190, 208 See also pottery Irish Christianity, 170 Irish merchants, 153 Irish Sea, 95, 107, 196, 203 Iron Age hillfort, 86, 220, 236 rath, 293 iron ore mine, 240

iron ore mining and smelting in forests of southern Champagne and northern Burgundy, 261 in Forest of Dean (Gloucestershire), 261 iron-producing community, 72 iron smelting, 240 iron-smithing, 42, 70, 77, 89, 91, 97, 129, 137, 186, 198, 255, 278, 338 iron tools, 255 ironworking, 70, 91, 107, 111, 309 Irthlingborough (Northamptonshire), settlement, Mercian royal estate centre, 86 Islamic caliphs, 19 Islamic coins, See dirhems, dinars Islamic Iberia, 123 Islamic Sicily, 265 Islamic West (Al-Andalus), the, 183 Islamic world, 20, 309, 315 island-scapes, 196 Isle of Wight, 200–1 itinerant artisans, 153, 168, 208 itinerant moneyers, 154 ivory, 319 diptychs, 233 Ivry-la-Bataille (Eure), donjon, 227 Jarrow (Co. Durham), monastery, 113, 123, 130 Jau-Dignac et Loirac, ‘La Chapelle’ (Gironde), mortuary church, stone, mausoleum, cemetery, 103 Jedburgh (Borders), 301 Jelling (southeast Jutland), polyfocal settlement, Danish royal centre, 195 jerkins, 266 Jerusalem pilgrimage to, 266 town, city, 19, 179, 266 jetty landing place, 190 jewellery, 83, 319 Jewish merchants, 153, 179 John of England, 246 Johnstown (Co. Meath), settlement, ringfort, cemetery, watermill, 92 Jumièges (Seine-Maritime), monastery, 234 Kamerlings Ambacht region (West Flanders), 193 Karlburg (Bayern), polyfocal settlement, castellum, estate centre, monastery, 131 Katwijk (Holland), cemetery, 192 Kaupang (Oslo fjord, Vestfold), port, emporium, 195

Index

Keeston, 295 Kempen, region, 48 Kermes beetle, 122 Kildonan (Kintyre), settlement, Dun, 97 Kingsbury, Old Windsor (Berkshire), watermills, royal estate centre, 147 kingship, 104 Kingston-upon-Hull (East Yorkshire), town, 165 kinship, 130 Kirkdale (North Yorkshire), transformation of settlement character, 276 Kirkstall (West Yorkshire), Cistercian monastery, 300 Kirkwall (Orkneys), Cathedral of St Magnus, 238 knights, 23, 292 Königslandschaften, 118 Kosterijstraat (West Flanders), 52 settlement, 58. See also Sint Andries (West Flanders) Kuden (Schleswig-Holstein), ringfort, 220 La Chapelle-Saint-Aubert (Ille-et-Vilaine), settlement, 37 La Crête (Aube), Cistercian monastery, 299 La Favara (Sicily), courtyard palace of Roger II, 247 La Ferrière (Eure), 240 La Ferté (Essonne), Cistercian monastery, 299 La Londe, near Rouen, pottery, 156, 174 La Panne (West Flanders), beach landing place, 193 La Trinité, Caen, monastery, 235 ladles, 252 Lagny-sur-Marne (Seine-et-Marne), 37 Lagore crannog (Co. Meath), 94, 106, 142 lamb, 116 lances, 266 land drainage, 312 land routes, 311 land tenure, 84 landed wealth, 28 Landevennec (Finistère), monastery, 104, 120, 202 landing places, 55, 146, 168, 174, 179, 183, 190, 195, 198, 200, 362 landing zones, 14 landscape settings, 28 Langeais (Indre-et-Loire), donjon, castle, 227 Langenwurten, 193 Langstone (Dorset), log-boat, 201 Laon (Aisne), Carolingian palace, tower, 119 Late Antiquity, 9, 15, 21, 107, 115, 160

iconography, 176 Late Roman, 101 later Middle Ages, 201 Latin alphabet, 153 Latin kingdoms, 257 Lauchheim (Baden-Württemburg), settlement, 49 Launceston (Cornwall), shell keep, 242 Lauwin-Planque (Pas-de-Calais), settlement, 58 lava quern stones, 52, 89 See also Niedermending. Laws of Cnut, 268 of Wihtred of Kent, 208 Le Maho, Jacques, 156 Le Mans (Sarthe), Romanesque cathedral, 235 Le Roc de Pampelune ‘Argelliers’ (Hérault), settlement, estate centre, 111 Le Yaudet-Ploulec'h (Côtes-d'Armor), settlement, 43 lead, 179, 187, 203, 265 mining and smelting, within the Peak Forest (Derbyshire), 261 seal of Baldwin II, King of Jerusalem, Tours, 259 tanks, 188, 278 leadworking, 137 leatherworking, 89, 91, 198, 278 Lebecq, Stéphane, 17, 182, 204 Leffinge (West Flanders), terp, settlement, 53 Leffinge–Oude Werf (West Flanders), settlement, 193 Leicester castle, 223 Earl of, 223 Leiderdorp (Holland), settlement, 58, 67, 69 Leie, River, 338 leisure activities, 221, 255 Lejre (Sjælland), polyfocal settlement, central place, 131 Leofric, Earl of Mercia, urban estate in Worcester, 348 leprosy, 286 Les Élites au Haut Moyen Âge, research project, 5 Lewes Priory (Sussex), 244 Lichfield Cathedral (Staffordshire), angel sculpture, 176 Liège, development from bishop's palace to town, 332 lifestyles at Carolingian palaces, 116 at coastal estate centres, 186

449

450

Index

lifestyles (cont.) of conspicuous consumption, 106, 259 described in textual sources, 5 in diocesan towns, c. 600–900, 167 of elites, 113–14, 124, 126, 129, 249, 274 of emporia port households, 205, 211 of production and consumption, 66, 99 urban, 20 lighthouse, 115 Lille (Nord), mercantile stimulus for urban growth, 356 Limerlé (Ardenne), barrow cemetery, 35, 103 Limfjord (Denmark), 304 liminality, 178, 180–1, 183, 312 Limogés (Haute-Vienne), monastery of St Martial at, 164 Lincoln Romanesque cathedral of Remigius, 242 shell keep, 242 Lincolnshire sea marshes, 188 Lindisfarne (Northumberland) diocesan centre, 170 monastery, 112, 170, 180 linen, 255, 315 ling, 96, 251 Lisbon conquest of in 1147, 325 Scandinavian raiding of, 204 town, 26, 204 Lisleagh (Co. Cork), settlement, ringfort, 92 literacy, 85, 113, 137, 139 Little Island (Co. Cork), watermills, assumed monastery, 146 Livroac'h (Finistère), settlement, 43 Lizy-sur-Ourcq (Seine-et-Marne), 265 Llanbedrgoch, Anglesey (Gwynedd), settlement, estate centre, 95 Llandough (Glamorgan), cemetery, settlement, monastery, 104 Llangors (Powys), crannog, silk thread, 258 Llantrithyd (Glamorgan) hunting lodge?, 265 small ring-work castle, 262, 264 local lordship, 11, 23, 221 local notables, 10, 28, 45, 50, 68, 89, 95, 99, 114, 124, 221, 274–5, 279, 293 emulation of the aristocracy by, 274 fortified settlements of, 287 small castles of, 287, 292 local power, 222 locator, 24 Loch Glashan (Argyll), settlement, crannog, 106 Loches (Indre-et-Loire), donjon, castle, 227

Locronan (Finistère) estate centre, 202 settlement, assumed estate centre, aula, chapel, 135 log-boats, 190, 201–2 Loire, River, 10, 46, 54, 69, 101–2, 124, 141, 153 estuary, 183, 194, 202, 210 Londinium (London), 172, 174 London capital city of kings of England from 1190s, 329 Frisian slave-trader in, 178 growth of merchant independence and power, 342 Jewish merchants, community of, 335 Lundenburh, 26 lack of linked shire territory, 345 paramount mint in England by c. 1010, 316 Lundenwic, halo of farming settlements on its periphery, 174 ‘Hare Court’, 205 horse-breeding at, 210 pig-breeding at, 210 port, emporium, town, 16, 174, 182, 205 provisioning of, 210 Royal Opera House excavations, 210 specialist butchers, 210 mint of the bishops, 175 paramount port town in England by c. 1000, 315 polyfocal settlement, 174 Poultry excavations, 349 Romanesque stone town-houses of merchants, 351 St Paul's Cathedral, 170, 172, 236 shift from Lundenwic to Lundenburh, 305 volatility of mercantile citizens in eleventh century, 329 longue durée, 4, 6, 8 lordship, 4, 9, 24, 28 regional, 221 Lorsch (Hesse), monastery, 120 Lothar I, 122, 223, 331 Lotharingia, 230 Loughor (Gower), motte-and-bailey castle, 262 Louis VI of France, 231, 270, 355 Louis the Pious, 42, 95, 111, 114, 118–19, 125, 155, 175, 233, 305 Louvre, the Capetian royal castle in Paris, 223 round donjon, 223 low status, 13, 98

Index

Ludlow (Shropshire), donjon-like gate tower, castle, 243 Lundenburh. See London Lundenwic. See London Lyminge (Kent), royal estate centre, monastery, polyfocal settlement, 198 Lyon (Rhone) ‘Rue des Chartreux’, settlement, hinterland of Lyon, 47 ‘Rue Pierre Audry’, settlement, hinterland of Lyon, 46 St Just, church of, 155 St Laurent de Choulans, church of, 155 town, 46, 48 Maastricht, Late Roman castellum, town, Meuse valley, 18, 154 mackerel, 199, 211 Mâcon (Saône-et-Loire), St Clément, church of, 155 macro-level, 7–8 madder, 123, 309–10, 316 Madelinus of Dorestad, moneyer, 195 Magdeburg Ottonian mint, 350 Ottonian palace, 119, 233 mailcoat from convent of St Anne, Jerusalem, 269 from museum of the Armenian Patriarch, Jerusalem, 269 Mainz presence of spices, silks and Islamic coinage at, 320 town, 155 Mälaren region, 105 Malcolm III ‘Canmore’ of Scotland, 238 managed ‘wild’ landscapes, 259 Manorbier (Pembrokeshire) church of St James, 353 donjon, hall-block, 296 manorial centres, 278 craft specialisation to support daily needs of household, 278 defensive enclosures, 282 masonry tower, 282 unenclosed, 282 wooden tower, 282 manorialisation, 11 mansus, 10, 42 manuring, 89 manuscripts, 5, 122 illumination, 123

marble, 115, 158, 233, 271 columns, at Cluny, 234 marbles, 232 marchands–paysans, 17, 75, 191 Margam (Glamorgan) Cistercian monastery, 300 sculpture showing deer hunting, 262 Margaret of Scotland, 238 marine fish, 166, 186, 198, 202, 211, 251 mariners, 129, 178, 182–3, 186, 188, 191, 194, 202, 204 English, at St Simeon, Syria, in 1098, 325 populations of, 206 maritime commerce, 302 maritime cultural landscapes, 183 maritime elite, 26 maritime networks, 97, 122, 146, 177, 187, 195–6, 203 See also exchange networks maritime-oriented societies, 25, 195, 206, 211, 303, 361 market town and rural hinterland relationship, 312 markets, 25, 27, 95, 192, 200, 210, 253, 316, 333, 352 transactions, 71 Marmoutier (Indre-et-Loire), monastery of St Martin at, 235 Marne, River, 10 Marsh Chapel (Lincolnshire), settlement, salt production, 290 marshland, 33, 76–7, 178, 183, 289 martyr graves, 161 Masham (Yorkshire), 176 masonry building, 85, 111–12, 145 See also buildings; churches masons, 168 material culture, 6 profiles, 8 material wealth, 361 materiality, 361 Maxey-type wares, 78 Mayenne (Mayenne), stone hall, donjon, castle, 223 McCormick, Michael, 19, 204 Medemblik (West Frisia), port, emporium, 192, 204 Medina-Azahara, near Córdoba, palace city, 233 Mediterranean Sea, 3, 15, 19–20, 26, 46, 55, 107, 120, 153, 183, 201, 257 coast, 221 eastern, 256 medlars, 67 Meigle (Perth and Kinross), 262

451

452

Index

Melisende of Jerusalem, 259 Melitus, Bishop of the East Saxons, 170 Melle (Poitou-Charente) mint, 44, 168, 194 Scandinavian raiding of, 204 silver mines, 168, 194, 203 Mellier (Ardenne), Carolingian palace, donjon, castle, 223 Melrose (Borders), Cistercian monastery, 301 memorialisation, 259 Menet-Puy-de-Menoire (Cantal), stone, ringwork castle, 233 mental templates, 7–8, 17 Meols (Cheshire), beach landing place, trading site, 194 merchant-oriented societies, 25 merchant–patricians, 230, 302, 365 merchant–peddlers, 210 merchants, 4, 9, 14–15, 17–18, 22–3, 25, 28, 118, 122, 153, 168, 174, 177, 182, 189, 191, 194, 205–7, 211, 230, 257, 277, 302, 308, 310, 328, 333 ability to defend themselves, 206 from Al-Andalus, 321 from Bristol, Southampton and Ipswich at conquest of Lisbon in 1147, 325 British/Breton, 153, 179 growing independence of, 302, 314 holding public offices, 302, 315 households, 206, 363 importation of silver by, 318 independence of, 326 Irish, 153 Jewish merchants from Al-Andalus trading with northern Europe, 321 from London trading with northen Spain, 321 martial reputation of London merchants, 318 mobile lifestyle, 311 Mozarabic merchants trading with northern Europe, 321 multiple ethnic influences on, 325 origins of, 206 protection of by ruling authorities, 311 purchasing or being granted rural estates, 302, 314 Romanesque stone town-houses of, 327 and transmission of new games, chess, tables etc., 320 as urban landowners, 326 women as urban landowners, 326 mercury, 122

Merovingian kings of Francia, 152 merrels, 289 metal drinking vessels, 252 metal-detectors, 83, 200 metalwork scatters, 186, 200 metalworkers, specialist, 72 metalworking tongs, 143 Metz (Moselle), town, Merovingian palace, 117 Meuse, River, 18, 48, 53 valley, 154 micro-level, 7–8 Middelkerke (West Flanders), beach landing place?, 193 Middle East, 3, 121, 257–8 Middle Harling (Norfolk), 278 middle Rhine region, 73 middling ranks of society, 274 Midlands, region, 12 migration to towns, 333 Milan cathedral group, 108 town, 106 Milfield (Northumberland), settlement, estate centre, 130 military retainers, 221, 257, 287 military role, 221, 286, 289 milites, 9, 23–4, 289, 292, 358 Milk Street excavations, London, 316 consumption of figs and grapes, 318 fragments of silk garments and silk brocade, 316 horn, 316 mercantile and artisan households, 316 Romanesque stone town-houses, 327, 351 vermilion pigment on oyster-shell palettes, 323 millefiori rods, 143 millwrights, 146, 148 mines, 72 lead, and possibly silver, Peak District, 187 minke whale, 97 minsters, 85, 124, 171, 207 mint(s) at boroughs, c. 1100–1150, 352 at Bruges, 225 at burhs (shire central places), 25 at Canterbury, 137, 175 at Carolingian palaces, 117 at diocesan towns, 18 at Hamwic, 209 at Ipswich, 209 at London (Lundenburh), 316 at Orléans, 168

Index

at Quentovic, 168 at Rouen, 205, 168, 332 at Steyning, 354 at Tours, 168 at York, 145 of the Archbishops, 175 for series Y sceattas, 209 Miranduolo (Tuscany), estate centre, hilltop settlement, castle, 141 mixed farming economies, 67, 77 mobility, 206, 259 Molendorp (West Flanders), settlement, 51 monasteries, 48, 85, 99, 104, 108, 112, 114, 120, 124, 126, 137, 150–1, 171, 177 as burial foci, 113, 140 scriptoria, 121–2 Mondeville (Calvados), settlement, 34, 57 moneyers, 154, 168, 195, 308, 314–15, 358, 362, 365 of the port and burh of London, 316 Monkton (Pembrokeshire), 297 Monkwearmouth (Co. Durham), monastery, 113, 145 Monreale (Sicily), 259 Montarrenti (Tuscany), estate centre, hilltop settlement, 141 Montbaron (Indre) discs from hauberk or byrnie, 269 settlement, protected by double ring-work, 287 Montbazon (Indre-et-Loire), donjon, castle, 227 Montcy-Notre-Dame ‘Le Château-des-Fées’ (Ardenne), motte, castle, 289 Montebaro (Lombardy), palace, 106 Montfélix-Chavot (Marne), embryonic castle, castle, 220–1 Montours (Ille-et-Vilaine), settlement, 37 Mont-Vireux (Ardenne), Late Roman castellum, early medieval fortified settlement, 215 Morimond (Haute-Marne), Cistercian monastery, 299 morphological diversity, 135 mortar mixer, 145 mortared stone, 132, 172, 226 mortuary church, 18, 45, 62, 151, 155 mosaic production, 158 Moselle, River, 50 Mote of Mark (Dumfries and Galloway), settlement, fortified centre, 34, 95, 106 motte, earth mound, 222

moulds, 89, 91, 97, 136, 143. See also nonferrous metalworking Moynagh Lough crannog (Co. Meath), 142 Mucking (Essex), settlement, 33, 76, 86 multiple burial foci, 139 mutton consumption, 250 Namur, Late Roman castellum, central place, town, 18, 154 Nantes (Loire-Atlantique), port, town, 204 navigable river systems, 73 Neath (Glamorgan), Savignac and later a Cistercian monastery, 300 Nendrum (Co. Down), monastery, 146 Nene, River, 79, 86 Nest, princess of Deheubarth, 296 netting, 125 of wildfowl, 260, 263 networks, 117, 152, 258. See also exchange networks; maritime networks; social networks of Anglo-Saxon merchants, c. 950–1050, 319 commercial, 26 of estates, 275 river-based, 187 Nevern (Pembrokeshire) motte-and-bailey castle, 296 takeover of Welsh estate centre, 295 New Forest (Hampshire), 245, 260 Newbattle (Midlothian), 301 Nicephorus Phocas, Byzantine emperor, 233 Niedermendig, area near Cologne, quernstones from, 79, 89, 184 Ninch (Co. Meath), settlement, ringfort, cemetery, 92 nodal points, 182 nodes of exchange, 15 Noirmoutier (Vendée), island, monastery, 179 non-ferrous metalworking, 70, 85, 89, 91, 97, 107, 113, 129, 136–7, 143–4 Nordic model of shifting settlements, 85 Norman Conquest of England, 12, 78, 173, 222, 235 of southern Italy and Sicily, 247, 257–8 north Africa, 201 North Elmham (Norfolk), diocesan centre, 173 North Ferriby (East Yorkshire), beach landing place, 189 North Newbald (East Yorkshire), market site?, 175 North Sea, 15–16, 19, 33, 51–2, 55, 73, 82, 91, 98, 119, 178, 180–1, 196 basin, 196

453

454

Index

North Sea (cont.) exchange networks, 125, 204 North Yorkshire Moors, 80 Northampton (Northamptonshire), palace, estate centre, monastery, 86, 130 northern Isles, 95 Norwich annual render of a goshawk, prior to 1066, 260 burh and regional territory, 345 eleventh-century occupation underneath Norman castle, 350 French borough, 358 Romanesque stone town-houses, 327, 351 Notre-Dame-de-Bondeville (HauteNormandie), dark earth/terre noire, settlement, church, estate centre, priory, 164 Notre-Dame-de-Gravenchon (HauteNormandie), estate centre, ring-work castle, designed landscape, 239 Nottingham, burh, shire-town, French borough, 358 Noyen-sur-Seine (Seine-et-Marne), log-boat, 202 oats, 67, 92, 94–5 obole, silver coin, 194 Odilo, Abbot of Cluny, 234 Odo, Count of Champagne, 239 Offa of Mercia, 86, 119, 175, 177, 268 Offa's Dyke, 120 Ogmore (Glamorgan), small moated ring-work castle, small stone donjon near gate, 294 Ohthere, Norwegian chieftain, merchant, 180 oil, 319 Oise, River, 10 valley, 201 Olby (Puy-de-Dôme), estate centre, vicarial centre, motte, castle, 134, 224 Old Sarum (Wiltshire) burghal fort, 221 castle, cathedral, bishop's palace, 236 shell keep, 242 Old Winchelsea (Sussex), 352 development of the port town, 354 given to Benedictine abbey of Fécamp by Cnut in 1017, 354 part of royal estate of Rameslie, 354 oliphant horns, 265 Oman, 122 Oostburg (East Flanders), ringfort, 216

Oostende (West Flanders), beach landing place, 193 Oostkerke (West Flanders), settlement, 193 Oost-Souburg (Zeeland), ringfort, 216 open-field system, 11, 41, 53, 90, 284, 364 opus Anglicanum, 259 opus sectile, 115, 158, 232 oratories, 44 orchards, 239 Orléans bridge across the River Loire, 335 burgus Avenum, extramural merchant settlement, 336 Capetian royal mint, 336 development of the town, c. 900–1150, 335 Jewish merchants, community of, 336 mint, 168 monastery of St Aignan, 336 polyfocal settlement, town, 168 Orne valley, 201 Orosius, 180 orpiment, 122 Orwell, River, 16 Osbern Bigge, thegn, urban estates in Canterbury, 348 osteoarthritis, 140 Oswald, Bishop of Worcester, 348 grants of rural estates to urban metalworkers and moneyer, 970s–990s, 348 Oswald of Northumbria, 170 Oswiu of Northumbria, 170 Oswulf of Northumbria, 175 Otley (Yorkshire), 176 Otto II, Ottonian German emperor, 331 Ottonian emperors, 233 Ottonian imperial architecture, 230 Ottonian Romanesque style, 230 Oudenburg (West Flanders), Late Roman castellum, settlement, 50 ovens, 60 Oxford burh, shire town, 219 decline of burh in immediate aftermath of Norman Conquest, 357 wooden bridge, 219 oysters, 48, 167 packhorses, 210 Paderborn (Rhein-Westfalen) Carolingian palace, 115–16 palace glass workshop, 117 Paffrath ware, See pottery pagan, 107

Index

pagani, 45 pagi, 150 Paie de Retz, 179 palace–donjons, 227, 229, 236, 254 palaces, 85, 105, 115, 117, 119, 150, 222 Carolingian, 114. See also estate centres palaeoclimatic data, 81 palm cups. See glass vessels papacy, 114 papyrus, 20 paradigms, 5, 7 Paris basin, 57 capital city of kings of France by eleventh century, 329 Carolingian palace, 114, 117 Merovingian palace, 105 St Geneviève, church of, 155 town, 71 Parknahown (Co. Lois), settlement, ringfort, cemetery, 92 parks, enclosed, 263 partridges, 47, 67, 252, 289 Pas-de-Calais, 201 pastoral care, 171 patronage, 153, 177, 182 Paule (Côtes-d'Armor), cemetery, mortuary church, 44 Paulinus, Bishop of Northumbria, 170 Pavia, Anglo-Saxon merchants active in, 315 peacock, 251 Peak District (Derbyshire), 187 Peak Forest (Derbyshire), 260 peasant(s), 9, 26, 28 colonisers, 25 peasantry dynamism of, 9, 24 the farming population, 22 portable wealth of, 14 social complexity of, 11–13 pectoral cross, 144 peddler, 210 Pembroke (Pembrokeshire) castle, 296 earldom of, 24 Pen-er-Malo (Morbihan), settlement, 43 Penmon (Anglesey), Benedictine priory, 238 Pennine hills, 80 penny, silver coin, 136 pepper, 123, 315 pepperers' guild, St Antonin, London, Church of, 322 Perche region, Normandy, 72

peregrine falcon, 264 Perpetuus, Bishop of Tours, 158, 173 Petegem (East Flanders) defences, ditches and palisade, 135, 219 estate centre, aula, chapel, castle, 135 Peterborough (Cambridgeshire), 176 petit appareil masonry, 226, 230 Peveril castle, Castleton (Derbyshire), 245 Philip I of France, burial at Fleury, 232 Philippe Auguste of France, 222 Philippe Guigon, 135 Picardy, region, 10, 70 pigeons, 67 pigs, 47, 68–9, 92–3, 96, 106, 116, 125, 128, 131–2, 136, 249, 289 husbandry in woodlands, 289 pilgrimage, 20, 121, 168, 179, 258–9, 266, 270, 272, 333 gifting of infrastructure on pilgrimage routes, 272 to Jerusalem, 273 to Rome, 272 Pineuilh (Gironde), castle, 256 Pingsdorf-type ware, 253, 320 See also pottery Pippin II of Aquitaine, 95 Pippin III the Short, 111, 120, 175, 187, 215, 223 Pirenne, Henri, 14 pitched battles, rarity of, 270 Pîtres, Edict of, 218 Plantagenets, the, 218 ploughshares, 44, 67, 93, 278 plover, 263 Po, River, 20, 183 transport corridor from Venice to Pavia, 315 Poggibonsi (Tuscany), estate centre, hilltop settlement, 141 Poitiers, palace of Counts of Poitou/Dukes of Aquitaine, 233 pollen evidence, 67, 79–80, 92 polyfocal settlements, 107, 117, 149, 177, 338 polyptychs, 10, 134 Poncin ‘La Châtelarde’ (Ain), Roman villa, early medieval estate centre, 106, 141 ponies, 94 Pont-de-l'Arche (Eure), fortified bridge, 218 Pontigny (Yonne), Cistercian monastery, 299 Poole harbour (Dorset), log-boat, 201 population densities, 153 growth, 27, 328, 333 pressure, 275 porphyry, 115, 120, 139, 232–3, 248

455

456

Index

porpoises, 128, 207, 251 hunting of, 207 Port Berteau (Charente-Maritime), shipwreck of clinker-built coaster, 203 port towns, 26, 91, 137, 174, 190, 200, 202, 302–3, 314, 328 concentration of imported goods and services within, 303 integration with rural hinterlands, 303 maritime exchange focussed on, 312 populations, exotic tastes of, 211 portable wealth, 14, 24–5, 28, 84, 99–100, 195, 207, 211, 252, 267, 302, 311, 325, 357, 361, 364 Portchester Castle (Hampshire) donjon, castle, 236 masonry tower, 282 settlement, estate centre, manorial centre, castle, 76, 88 ‘Portejoie’, Tournedos-sur-Seine (Eure) abandonment at end of tenth century, 287 continued use of church into fourteenth century, 287 ploughshare, scythes, sickles, 67 settlement, church, cemetery, 58–9 Portland (Dorset), 180, 198 Portmahomack (Moray Firth, near Inverness), monastery, 145 ports, 20, 25, 27–8, 85, 90, 153, 168, 179–80, 182–3, 198, 204, 208–9, 311 ethnic diversity, 207 gendered spaces, 207 initiative for their foundation, 362 new maritime ports founded between c. 1000 and 1150, 352 ports-of-trade, 16, 20, 181, 189 portus, 168, 174, 230, 333 Ganda, 338 Vertraria, 179, 202, 204 post-hole. See buildings post-in-trench construction. See buildings postmodernist interpretations, 154 pottery Andenne ware, 253, 53 Badorf ware(s), 53, 117, 125, 193, 195 black-burnished ware, 53, 79, 86, 184, 188, 193 ceramic goblets, 111 chaff/grass-tempered ware, 51, 53 grey-burnished ware, 79, 184, 193 handmade, 90

in coastal zones, 55, 195, 199, 361, 193 along river corridors, 55, 73 Ipswich ware, 78–9, 91, 137, 184, 186–7, 190, 208 La Londe ware, 156, 174 Maxey-type wares, 78 Pingsdorf-type ware, 53, 253, 320 Raqqa-type ware, 252 red-painted wares, 53 Stafford ware (formerly known as Chester ware), 253, 347 tablewares, 252 Tating ware, 79, 117, 184, 196 urban pottery industries, 347 from Vorgebirge region, Middle Rhineland, 72 Western French white/cream ware (E-ware), 203 Winchester ware 347 Pre-Roman, 230 prestige goods, 16, 19, 98, 181 producer sites, 24 production, specialist, 14, 16, 183, 187 profit, 6, 16–17, 19, 28, 182, 302, 319, 363 profligate discard, 142, 227, 255 promontory castles, 221, 225–6, 229, 293 pruning hook, 93 psalters, 122 puffins, 96 pulses, 67 purple, 122–3 purple cloth, 319 purple-dyed vellum, 122 Pyrenees, the, 219, 221, 258 Quentovic ‘La Calotterie’, Vismarest, marble plaque, 158 mint, 168 port, emporium, 16, 18, 179, 187, 204, 210 shift from Vismarest to Montreuil, 305 Quierzy (Oise), Carolingian palace, 115, 118–19 rabbit, 47 radiocarbon dates, 52, 80, 94, 96, 136, 147 Raheens (Co. Cork), settlement, ringfort, 93 Rameslie (Sussex), 354 Raqqa ware pottery, 252 Raunds (Northamptonshire), area, survey, 83 Raunds–Furnells (Northamptonshire) church and cemetery, 284

Index

manorial centre, 282 village development, 284 Raunds–Thorpe End (Northamptonshire), settlement, 83 Raunds–West Cotton (Northamptonshire) manorial centre, 282 watermill, 282 ray, 251 Raystown (Co. Meath), settlement, ringfort, cemetery, watermills, 92, 94, 148 recycling, 205 Red Craig (Mainland, Orkney), settlement, 95 red deer, 132, 145, 166, 261, 278, 289, 293 See also deer Red Wharf Bay (Gwynedd), 95 redistribution, 181 red-painted inscriptions, 115, 158 red-painted plaster, 115 red-painted wares. See pottery reeves, 204 refuse deposits, 95, 111 dumping, in former Roman townscapes, 151 management strategies, 89 regional diversity, 6, 11–12, 48, 75, 133 relics, 5, 120, 154, 232, 271–2 of St Benedict, Fleury, 232 religion, 28 religious veneration, public acts of, 259, 270 Renoux, Annie, 119 reorganisation of settlements and landscape in the tenth and eleventh centuries, 275 representativity of archaeological evidence, 319 reticella-decorated, 125, 205 See also glass vessels Reusel-de-Mierden (Kempen), settlement, 49 Rheims Archbishops of, 220 town, Merovingian palace, 117 Rhine, River, 10, 16, 49–50, 69, 101, 124 delta region, 192 Rhineland, 45, 191 Rhône, River, 73, 153 Rhys ap Gruffudd, prince of Deheubarth, 297 patronage of Welsh Cistercian houses, 300 Rhys ap Tewdwr of Glamorgan, 237 Ribe, 144 port, emporium, 16, 195, 205 Riby (Lincolnshire), settlement, also known as Riby Crossroads, 82, 188 rice, 258

Richard I, Duke of Normandy, 235, 239 Richard I the Lionheart of England, 246, 272 riding gear, from coastal settlements, 83, 188 from emporia ports, c. 670–900, 205 from fortified sites and castles, 136, 221, 255 as indicator of social mobility, 289, 293 as marker of elite status, 90, 107, 110, 132, 141, 255, 266, 278, 293 free status, 83, 188, 278, 290 military role, 132, 136, 221, 255, 290, 293 from rural estate centres, 132, 136, 141, 278 saddle, decorated, 268 snaffle fit, 94, 350, spur, 221 stirrup, 136 from towns, c. 900–1100, 310, 350 from wealthy farmsteads/hamlets, 83 Rievaulx (North Yorkshire) Cistercian monastery, 299 Romanesque monastic church, 300 Rigny-Ussé (Indre-et-Loire), settlement, cemetery, estate centre, colonica, 111, 137 Rijnsburg (Holland), settlement, estate centre, ringfort, 34, 69, 75, 192 Ringerike style, 350 ringforts, 92, 197, 216, 219, 222 ring-work castles in Pembrokeshire, reuse of Iron Age raths, 295 Ripon (North Yorkshire), monastery, 113 rivers boatmen, 194 boats, 191 communication corridors, 333 landing places, 191 traffic, 168 transport corridors, 73, 179, 202, 311, 356 valley corridors, 14 Robert, Count of Évreux and Archbishop of Rouen, 239 Robert Curthose, Duke of Normandy, 258 Robert, Earl of Gloucester, Marcher Lord of Glamorgan, 291 Robert Fitz Haimo, Marcher Lord of Glamorgan, 23, 265, 294, 353 Robert Guiscard, 23, 262 Robert of Molesme, founder of Cistercian order, 298 Robert of Mortain, 235 Robert the Pious of France, 232, 336 roe deer, 145, 261, 278, 289 See also deer

457

458

Index

Roermond hoard (Limburg, Netherlands), coin and silver hoard, 194 Roger, Bishop of Salisbury, 246 Roger II of Sicily, 247 use of Byzantine imperial and Islamic ruling imagery, 248 use of Romanesque architecture, 248 Roger of Montgomery, 23, 235 Roksem (West Flanders), settlement, 52 Roman Christianity, 3, 113, 171 Church, 36, 112, 169 imperial architecture, 230 imperial symbolism, 114, 116, 123, 223 towns, 15–16, 105, 112, 151, 162, 170, 175 villas, 58–9, 106 Roman/Byzantine imperial materials, use of by Capetians, 232 Romanesque, 230, 234 architecture sponsored by Welsh and Scottish rulers, 238 cathedrals, 235, 237 construction of in England, 237 donjons, 231 parish churches, 293 stone town-houses, 26, 230, 302, 327, 357 Rome, 176, 232 town, city, 20 Ronceray (Sarthe), 334 Roncesvalles (Navarre, Spain), 323 Rosemarket (Pembrokeshire), ring-work castle, 295 Roskilde (Denmark), 313 rotunda church of St Donatus, Bruges, 225, 229 palatine chapel Aachen, 118 Compiègne, 118 Rouen, 156 Rouen Archbishop's hall, 158 Archbishop's library, 158 Archbishop's palace complex, 156 cathedral group, 108 cloister for cathedral canons, 156 excavations of, 156 Cathedral of Notre Dame, 156 centre for slave-trading with Islamic Iberia, 306 donjon of William the Conqueror, 227 external landing places on the Seine, 306 Jewish merchants, community of, 335 mint, 168, 332 restoration of, in 930s–940s, 334

polyfocal settlement, 174 port, emporium, town, 16, 71, 179, 204 replanning of street system, 930s–940s, 334 Romanesque Cathedral, 235 rotunda chapel, 156 stone synagogue, 335 tower in Archbishop's palace complex, 158 round donjons, 223 roundhouse, 95 row-grave cemeteries, 100, 103 Roxby (North Yorkshire), settlement, 80 royal households, 118 royal palaces, in Norman England, 241 royal power, 113, 119, 222 rural central places, 106–7 rural world, 4, 9, 22, 27–8, 33, 124, 181 rye, 67, 92 saddles, gold decorated 268 silver decorated 268, 310 Saint-Avit-Sénieur (Dordogne), 265 Saint-Benoît-sur-Loire (Loiret), Monastery of Fleury at, 232 Saint-Denis annual fair, 174, 355 aqueduct, 115, 119 Arnegunde grave, 105 Capetian royal mausoleum, 355 mint, 168 palace–monastery, settlement, cemetery, 71, 104, 115, 117, 119–20, 203 ring-work defences, 135, 216 Saint Étienne, Caen (Calvados), monastery, 235 Saint-Florent-de-Saumur (Maine-et-Loire), Abbey of, 276 Saint-Georges-sur-l'Aa (Nord), settlement, 202 Saint-Georges-de-Boscherville (SeineMaritime), cemetery, mortuary chapel, 44 Saint-Jean-d'Angély (Charente-Maritime), 272 Saint-Mesmin (Dordogne), monastery, 43, 74 Saint Omer (Nord), monastery of St Bertin at, 110 Saintonge ware. See pottery Saint-Rémy-du-Val (Sarthe), shell-keep, castle, 241 Saint-Urnel (Finistère), settlement, chapel, 43 Sainte-Suzanne (Mayenne), donjon, castle, 228 sale, 125, 210 Saleux ‘Les Coutures’ (Somme) abandonment in eleventh century, 287 cemetery and church development, 63

Index

mill leat, 148 settlement, church, cemetery, 58–9, 67, 75 wild fauna consumed, 94 Salian German emperors, 235 Salomon of Brittany, 136 salt, 14, 54, 73, 77, 179, 194, 201, 203, 210, 320 production, 179, 183, 186, 193, 198, 202, 290, 354, 356 trade, 168, 203, 210 saltmarshes, 52, 77, 182 Samarkand, mint for dirhems, 309 Samoussy (Aisne), Carolingian palace, 115, 118 sand islands, 52, 77, 79, 182 Sandtun, West Hythe (Kent), beach/dune settlement, landing place, 198 Sandwich (Kent) development of port town, 352–3 landing place, port, 198 mint by 1040s, 353 possession of Archbishops of Canterbury, 990s–1100s, 353 Santiago de Compostela monastery of, 353 pilgrimage to shrine of St James, 353 Saône, River, 73 Saran, 40 sarcophagi, 63, 102–3 Sarry (Loir-et-Cher) cemeteries, isolated burials, 40 settlement, 34, 37, 40, 54 Scalloway (Mainland, Shetland), settlement, broch, 96 Scandinavia, 106–7, 180 Scandinavian raids, 156, 197, 216 on Seville, Lisbon and north Africa, 320 Scandinavian stimulus on urban growth, 305 Scandinavians, 15, 25, 95, 136, 142, 183, 199, 203, 268 Scarborough (North Yorkshire) castle kitchen, 254 donjon, castle, 244 scarlet, 310 Scarpe, River, 356 sceattas, 52, 89, 111, 129, 131, 144, 186, 191, 195, 208 series E ‘porcupine’ type, 188, 194–5 series X ‘Wotan monster’ type, 189, 195 Scheldt, River, 48, 230, 338 schooling, 117 sculpture, 85, 113, 172, 176 scythe, 67

sea dykes, 290 sea eagle, 265 sea resources, 96 seabirds, 96 seafarers, 4, 17, 22, 26, 153, 174, 179, 182, 189–90, 196, 206, 211 See also merchants seasonal fairs, 333 seaways, 97, 179, 311 seax, 161, 195, 208 Sébécourt (Eure), motte and ring-work castle, 240 Second Crusade, 26, 325 sediment cores, 52 seigneurial, 24, 68 seigneurie banale, 9 Seine, River, 71, 169 Selle, River, tributary of Somme, 67, 69 Sens (Yonne), monastery, 19 Serçe Limani, shipwreck, 206 Serris ‘Les Ruelles’ (Seine-et-Marne) abandonment, 276 church, 64 embryonic castle, 276 prospering of peasant farms in tenth century, 275 settlement, church, estate centre, cemetery, 58, 109, 131 wooden tower, 276 Servon ‘L’Arpent Ferret' (Seine-et-Marne), settlement, 42 settings, 4 landscape, rural, urban, behavioural, social, 99 rural, urban, behavioural, social, 4, 8 settlement nucleation, 11 transformation, in the ninth and tenth centuries, 276 Severn estuary, 207 fisheries, 207 Seville Scandinavian raiding of, 204 town, 204 Shapwick (Somerset) research project, 13 village development, 284 sheep, 47, 53, 55, 68, 73, 77, 92, 94, 96, 106, 117, 128, 136, 183, 186, 250 husbandry, 193 shell-keep, 241 Sherborne (Dorset), donjon-like gate tower, castle, 243

459

460

Index

sheriffs, 344 shields, 267 fittings, 90, 289 ships, 128, 146, 182, 203 shire towns, 348 shire-reeves, 344 shires, 25, 344 Sicily, 23 Norman, 258 sickle, 52, 67 siege castles, 222, 229 sieges, 270 signatures. See material culture, profiles Silbury Hill (Wiltshire), 221 silk, 120, 123, 255, 258, 272, 309, 313 brocade, 259 clothing, 258 personal and military standards, 268 shawl, 232 sheets, pillows and bedcovers, 255 thread, 258 silks, 315, 319, 321, 334 silk-wrapped amulet, from Tattershall Thorpe smith's grave, 208 sill beam. See buildings sill foundations. See buildings silver, 90, 97, 110, 131, 191, 235, 268, 315 chandeliers, 255 coinage, 154, 168 platters, 252 spoons, 252 vessels, 252 silver-decorated saddles, 268 silverworking, 255, 309 Simy Folds (Co. Durham), settlement, 80 Sint Andries (West Flanders), settlement, 34, 51 Sint Servaas, 154 site formation processes, 86 sites of exchange, 204 Skerne (East Yorkshire), jetty landing place, 190 Skipsea Brough (East Yorkshire), motte-andbailey castle, lake, 239 slag. See ironworking slave collar, 143 slaves, 9, 11, 315 sloe, 67 smelting workshops, 72 snaffle bit, 94 snails, 47 Snellegem, 341 social evolution, 3–4, 6–7, 19, 74, 98, 108

social fabric, 183 social identity, 7 memory, 7 mobility, 22–3, 25, 27–8, 249, 275, 282, 294, 302, 325, 327, 364 evident in townscapes, 366 of merchant and artisan households, 365 from seafaring mercantile ventures, 318 networks, 46, 257, 361 practices, 7–8, 28, 117, 124, 183, 227, 289, 361, 365 rank, 16. See also social status roles, 7, 28 status, 4 Soest (NordRhein-Westfalen) 225 estate centre of Bishops of Cologne, 356 defences of, 219 polyfocal settlement, 356 Romanesque stone town-houses, 357 salt production and ironworking centres, 356 urban development of, 356 Soissons (Aisne), Merovingian palace, 105, 117 sokelands. See sokemen sokemen, 12, 78, 279, 282, 286, 291, 364 solar-tower, 246 Solent estuary, 200 solidus, 125. See also coins Somme, River, 225 Sorte Muld (Bornholm), polyfocal settlement, rural central place, votive deposition, 107 South Cadbury (Somerset), burghal fort, 221 South Ferriby (Lincolnshire), 190 Southampton Hamwic mint for series H sceattas, 209 port, emporium, 16, 179, 182, 190, 196, 198, 200, 205 ‘Six Dials’, 205 St Mary's cemetery, 207 port town, 26 Romanesque stone town-houses, 327 shift from Hamwic to medieval Southampton, 305 territory linked to burghal port, 345 Spanish rugs, 254 sparrowhawk, 264, 313 spearheads, 90, 97, 143, 195, 221 spears, 266–7, 289 sperm whale, 90, 251 Speyer, Romanesque cathedral, 235

Index

spices, 20, 123, 258, 315, 319, 321, 334 Springfield Lyons (Essex) abandoned in later twelfth century, 287 settlement, 279 two-hide estate, 279 Sprouston (Borders), 144 spur. See riding gear St Antonin, London, church of pepperers' guild, 322 St Augustine of Canterbury, 170 St Clears (Pembrokeshire), 297 St Columba, 170 St David's (Pembrokeshire) Late Romanesque cathedral, 298 monastery, cult centre of St David diocesan centre, 237 St Dogmaels (Pembrokeshire), 297 St-Germain-des-Près, Paris, monastery of, 168 St Guthlac, 76 Life of St Guthlac, by Felix, 178 St James, church dedications, 353 St-Julien-en-Genevois (Rhone-Alps), settlement, stone mausoleum, 102 St Liudger, Life of, by Altfrid, 179 St Martin of Tours, 21 cult of, 158 monastery of, 10, 21, 104, 108, 111, 122, 154, 158, 161, 164, 173 temporary shrine of (excavated), 161 St Ninian's Isle (Shetland), 143 St Servatius, 154 cult of, 158 St Simeon, Syria, English mariners at, 325 St Victor of Marseilles furnished graves buried in monastery, 161 monastery of, 10, 161 St Willibald, 179 St Willibrord, 179 Staffelsee (Bayern) diocesan seat of first Bishops of Bavaria, 331 monastery of, 331 Stafford castle decline of burh in immediate aftermath of Norman Conquest, 357 foundation of borough of Monetville, 358 Stafford ware (formerly known as Chester ware), 253, 347 stallions, 267 state power, 221 ‘Staunch Meadow’, Brandon (Suffolk), settlement, cemetery, estate centre, monastery, 124, 190

Stavnsager (East Jutland) Domburg-type brooch, 196 polyfocal settlement, rural central place, votive deposition, 107 transformation of small port to rural manor, 313 Staxton-Newham's Pit (East Yorkshire), settlement, 80 Stellerburg (Schleswig-Holstein), estate centre, ringfort, 220 Stene (West Flanders), settlement, 193 Stephen, Count of Aumale, Lord of Holderness, 239, 358 Stephen of England, 243, 246 Steyning (Sussex), 352 development of the borough, 354 labour services of burgesses in 1066, 354 mint, 354 overseen by London moneyer, Deorman, 354 pewter disc brooch from, 354 possession of Benedictine abbey of Fécamp, Normandy, 354 settlement, royal estate centre, borough, 200 stirrup, 136 stock fish, 200, 251, 290 stone buildings masonry, 85, 113 stone footings/sills, 46, 80, 85, 109–11, 145 grave-markers, 349 halls, 223 mausolea, 102 stoneworking, 89 storage, 111 storm-makers, 45 Stour, River, 353 Strata Florida (Ceredigion), Cistercian monastery, 301 sturgeon, 70, 131, 139, 251, 313 stycas, Northumbrian copper alloy coins, 80, 175 styli, 117, 126, 137 sub-Ringerike-style, 238 sugar, 258 Suger, Abbot of Saint-Denis, 232 Sugny (Ardenne), embryonic castle, castle, 220–1, 287 sulphur, 319 sunken foundations, 221 sunken-featured buildings, 62, 89–90, 126 See also Grubenhäuser

461

462

Index

Sutton Courtenay (formerly Berkshire, now Oxfordshire) principal residential building, 130 settlement, estate centre, 130 Sutton Hoo (Suffolk) barrow cemetery, ship burials, 94, 104 drinking-horn terminals, 192 swans, 263 sword-burials, 101 sword-guards, 205 swords, 100–1, 103, 121, 143, 195, 203, 267 votive deposition of, 268 symbolic space, 7 Syria, 120 Sysele, 341 tables, game played with counters, 256, 289 ivory counters with figurative relief carving, 256 played in elite and urban contexts, 257 tablewares, 252 taifa kingdoms of Spain, 235, 258 Taillebourg (Charente-Maritime) log-boats, 203 riverside landing place, 195, 203 Tamworth (Staffordshire), watermill, royal estate centre, 147 Tating ware, 117, 184, 195 See also pottery pitchers, 196 Tattershall Thorpe (Lincolnshire), smith's grave, 208, 311, 362 Tavigny (Ardenne), cemetery, mortuary chapel, 44 taxation, 18–19, 28, 181, 203 of goods passing through sea and river ports, 333 taxation-in-kind, 69, 125, 144 Teinfrith, church-wright of Edward the Confessor overseer of construction of Westminster abbey, 349 possession of rural estate at Shepperton (Middlesex), 349 terp, 191 raised settlement mound, 53 terra preta, 157 terres noires, 164, 167 test-pitting approaches, 13 Teulet (Hérault), small donjon, 234 Tewkesbury (Gloucestershire), Benedictine priory built by Robert Fitz Haimo, 295

textile production, 42, 52, 60, 70, 91, 93, 111, 129, 137, 144, 198, 309 thegns, 11, 279 Thetford (Norfolk) diocesan centre, 173 moved to Norwich, 345 lack of linked rural territory for the town/ burh, 345 Theuws, Frans, 154 Thomas Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury Chancellor of England, 327 son of immigrant Norman merchant in London, 327 three orders, the, 22, 25 Thwing (East Yorkshire), settlement, cemetery, wooden tower, 221, 81 tidal creeks, 54, 78–9, 183, 196 Tidenham (Gloucestershire), estate centre, 128, 207 Tijtsma-Wijnaldum (Westergo), terp settlement, 191 tin, 315, 319 Tintagel (Cornwall), settlement, fortifed centre on promontory, 106 Tintern (Gwent), Cistercian monastery, 300 Tissø (Sjælland), polyfocal settlement, central place, 131 tolls, 168, 204 collection, 168, 179, 192, 204, 207, 358 Tongres (prov. Limburg) cathedral group, 108 town, Roman town, 18 tools, 129, 134 top-down models, 3, 16 Torcello, island, Venice, 20 Tournai (prov. Hainaut) Merovingian palace, 105, 117 stone, 339 town, 104, 117 tournament, 270 Tours (Indre-et-Loire) burgus of artisans and merchants, monastery of St Martin, 337 cathedral group, 108 Château excavations, 166 development of the town, c. 900–1150, 336 donjon, comital residence, 227, 337 ground-floor cooking, 254 mint, 168 Romanesque stone town-houses, 337 St Julien, church of, 167 excavations at, 21

Index

suburbium civitatis, 154 town, 21, 26 Tower of London, White Tower, donjon of William the Conqueror, 228, 236 town and country relationship of the central Middle Ages, 308 town walls, 151 towns, 4, 6, 9, 14–15, 20, 22, 25, 27, 149, 177, 179, 277 growth of towns from rural estate centres, 331 judicial concept of a town, 330 supplying goods and services to rural hinterlands, 277 townscapes, 25–6, 151 trade, 4, 6, 14, 19, 28, 121, 126, 168, 182 east–west, 258 networks, 15 salt, 168, 203, 210 wine, 203 traders, 205 trading places, 182 Transformation of the Roman World, The research project, 5 translators, 358 transport, 14, 17, 94, 182, 190 travel, 19 travellers, 208 tremissis, gold coin, 18, 153, 191, 195. See also coins Trent, River, 184 Trewiddle hoard (Cornwall), coin and silver hoard, 201 Tritsum (Westergo), terp settlement, 191 Trondheim (Norway), walrus ivory workshop, 256 Trowbridge (Wiltshire) settlement, 82 small ring-work castle, 244 ‘twelfth-century Renaissance’, 26 Tyne, River, 221 Umayyad, 123 Unur, Emir of Damascus, 263 uplands, 33, 77, 79, 81 Uppåkra (Skåne), polyfocal settlement, rural central place, votive deposition, 107 urban cemeteries, 349 churches construction and rights over/tithes from, 349 dedications, 350

community, 118 decline, 163 fabric, 151 growth, 333 hierarchy, 25 life, 14, 20 patricians, 25–6, 230, 302, 365 as a political force, 367 residences of rural landowners, 312 world, 26–7 Usama ibn Munqidh, Islamic scholar, warrior and hunter, 263 utilitarian goods, 16 Utrecht, diocesan centre, monastery, polyfocal settlement, 194 Vadum Jacob, castle of the Knights Templar, 257 Valkenburg De Woerd (Holland) church founder-burial, 64 settlement, church, estate centre, 58, 69, 74–5, 192 valkyries, 107 Valle Crucis (Denbighshire), 301 Valsgärde (Mälaren), barrow cemetery, ship burials, 104, 107 Varangian guard, 357 vegetables, 67 Vejle fjord, 195 Velzeke (East Flanders), St Martin, church of, 230 Vendel (Mälaren), barrow cemetery, ship burials, 104, 107 Vendôme (Loir-et-Cher), development of the town, 338 Veneto region, 183 Venice Ca'Vendramin Calergi, 252 maritime urban republic of, 303 merchants from, 315 port, town, 183 Venetians, 15 Verberie (Aisne), Carolingian palace, 118 Verhaeghe, Frans, 21 Verhulst, Adriaan, 18 vermilion, red pigment indicator of trade with Spain, 323 made from mercury sulphide, 323 Verneuil-sur-Avre (Eure) borough founded by Henry I of England, 242

463

464

Index

Verneuil-sur-Avre (Eure) (cont.) English influences in Romanesque architecture, 242 provision of houses and churches for burgesses by Henry I of England, 360 Vert-Saint-Denis ‘Les Fourneaux’ (Seine-etMarne), settlement, iron ore mine, 58, 71 Veurne (West Flanders), ringfort, 216 vicus, 59 villa, 47–8, 134 Alnith, 135 Karloburg, 138 Pettingaheim, 135 village, 11, 24–5, 78, 91, 274 belt in central England, 274 development in England, 284 formation, 11, 364 ‘greens’, 78 villani, 27 Villare, 71 Villiers-le-Bacle (Essonne), settlement, 34, 57 Villiers-le-Sec (Val-d'Oise) cemetery, 65 estate of Saint-Denis, 286 principal residential building from tenth century, 286 settlement, cemetery, estate centre, 58–9, 67 wild fauna consumed, 67, 94 Vireux-Molhain (Ardenne) Notre-Dame-Saint-Ermel, church of, 215 settlement, 215 Vireux-Wallerand (Ardenne), community of ironworkers, 215 Vismarest-sur-Canche (Pas-de-Calais), village, 16 Vitry-en-Artois (Pas-de-Calais), settlement, estate centre, 58–9 Viuz-Faverges (Haute-Savoie), settlement, mortuary church, 102 vluchtburgen, 197, 216 Vorbasse (Jutland), 86 Vorgebirge, region, middle Rhineland, 72 votive depositions, 45, 107 walled episcopal cores, 152, 154 walls, symbolic interpretation of, 154 walnuts, 211, 232 Walraversijde gold tremissis, 193 Walter Espec, 299 Walter Fitz Richard de Clare, 300

Waltham (Essex), Abbey of Holy Cross, 271 Walwyn's Castle (Pembrokeshire) church of St James, 353 ring-work castle, 295 warfare, 132, 206, 259, 266, 269, 278 waste streams, 8 water channel. See Saint-Denis watermills, 60, 63, 70, 93–4, 146–7, 191, 282 horizontal-wheeled, 146 technology, 146 tidal, 146 vertical-wheeled, 146 Waverley (Surrey) Cistercian monastery, 299 Weald, the, iron mining and smelting, 291 wealthy peasant families, 274 weapons arrowheads, 90, 266, 289 axes, 195, 289 bows and arrows, 266 among coastal and maritime-oriented communities, 83, 188, 195, 203, 361 crossbows, 263, 266 bolt, 221, 289 quarrel, 266 discarded in castles, 221, 255, 293 at ports and river landing places, 203, 205, 207, 212 on rural settlements, 83, 90, 131, 134, 143, 278, 289 in towns, 310, 350 as grave-goods, 49, 103, 110 hunting as weapons training, 266 lances, 266 reflection of military role as much as status, 221, 286 of right to bear arms by freemen, 11, 23, 28, 55, 132, 286 seax, 161, 195, 208 spearhead(s), 90, 97, 143, 195, 221 spears, 266, 289 sword(s), 100–1, 103, 121, 143, 195, 203, 267 votive deposition of, 268 sword guard/hilts, 205 trade in, 315 votive deposition, 107, 143, 268 Weber, Max, 21 Welham Bridge (East Yorkshire), log-boat, 190 Wellington (Herefordshire), watermill, 147 wells, 60, 62 Wenceslas of Bohemia, 269

Index

Wenduine (West Flanders), settlement, 193 West Halton (Lincolnshire), monastery, 137 West Heslerton (North Yorkshire), settlement, 34, 84, 86, 91 West Stow (Suffolk), settlement, 33 West Walton (Norfolk), settlement, 79, 184 Westergo (Friesland), 191 western French cream ware (E-ware), 203 western Roman provinces, 100 Westminster, London Abbey, 236, 271, 329 palace, 236, 245 St Peter’s monastery, Thorney Island, 172 whale vertebrae, 90, 93 whales, 90, 93, 96, 128, 202, 211, 251 Wharram Percy (North Yorkshire), settlement, 91 wheat, 67, 92, 94–5 Whitby (North Yorkshire) monastery, 104, 190 Synod of, 171 White Tower, Tower of London, 227, 236 Whitehall, London, palace site?, estate centre, 173 Whithorn (Dumfries and Galloway) monastery, 94, 104, 123 whiting, 96, 186, 199 Whitland (Pembrokeshire), Cistercian monastery, 300 Whittlewood (Northamptonshire) area, 84 research project, 13 Wicken Bonhunt (Essex), settlement, estate centre, 76, 88 Wigford, Lincoln, St Mark, church of, 350 Wigmund, Archbishop of York, 175 gold solidus issue, 175 Wigod of Wallingford, urban estates in Oxford, 348 Wihtred of Kent, law code of, 208 wild animals, 68 birds, 55 fruits, 67 geese, 263, 313 species, 47, 67–8, 90, 93, 106, 125, 128, 131, 145, 166, 187, 250, 275, 289 wildfowling, 68, 128, 131, 134, 187, 207, 239, 260, 263 Wilfrid, Abbot and Bishop, 113, 123, 171 William de Albini, 243 William I ‘the Conqueror’ of England, Duke of Normandy, 23, 222, 229, 335, 342

William II of Sicily, 259 William II Rufus of England, 236 killed while hunting in the New Forest, 261 William IV ‘the Pious’, Duke of Aquitaine, 271 William V ‘the Great’, Duke of Aquitaine, 233 William FitzOsbern, 235, 239 William Giffard, Bishop of Winchester, 299 William de Londres, 294 William Longsword, Duke of Normandy, 332, 334–5 William de Warenne I, Earl of Surrey, 243 wills (testaments), 267, 357 Wilskerke-Haerdepollemswal (West Flanders), geochemical survey, 53, 193 Winchester (Hampshire) burh, town, 218, 329 paramount centre of royal government in England, c. 950–1150, 329 polyfocal settlement, 329 Winchester ware, 347 window glass, 64, 117, 158, 275 Windsor (Berkshire) courtyard palace of Henry II within Windsor castle, 247 Romanesque stone town-house, 358 shell-keep, castle, 241 small river port, 358 wine, 203, 252, 315, 319, 324 trade, 203 Wirral peninsula, 194 Wiso, the Fleming, locator, 24, 294 Wiston (Pembrokeshire) borough, 360 motte and ring-work castle, 293 Witney (Oxfordshire), manorial estate centre with solar tower, 247 wizards, 45 woad, 316 Woensdrecht (East Flanders), settlement, landing place, 192 wolf, 67, 132 women of seafaring-merchant households, 207 as urban landowners, 326 woodcock, 313 woodlands, 33, 93, 166, 252, 260, 291 farming and industrial landscapes, 291 Woodstock (Oxfordshire), palace, 245 woodworking, 70, 89, 91, 93, 129, 137, 278 wool, 92 garments, 194

465

466

Index

woollen cloth, 315 Worcester (Worcestershire), diocesan centre, 173 wright, 349 Wuffingas, 105 Wulfhere, Archbishop of York, 175 Wulfred, Archbishop of Canterbury, coinage of, 175 Wulfsige, Archbishop of York, 175 Wulfstan, Bishop of Worcester, 237 Yarnton (Oxfordshire), settlement, estate centre, 86, 125 Yeavering (Northumberland), 125 Northumbrian royal estate centre, 85–6, 112 Yemen, 122 York. See also Coppergate, excavations Fishergate Alma Sophia, monastery of 172

Anglo-Scandinavian transformation of, 303 Archbishops of, 364 sculptures associated with key estate centres of, 176 bishopric of, 171 citizenry of, 179 Eorforwic, town, port, emporium, 16 Frisian merchant colony, 179, 190 mint, 145 for series Y sceattas, 209 of the Archbishops, 175 moneyers, tenth-century, 308 polyfocal settlement, 174 port town, 303 Yorkshire Wolds, 80, 83, 91 Zengid dynasty of Aleppo, 264