Category: britain

The History of the London Stone

Tucked away on an unremarkable street in central London is a chunk of oolite rock known as the London Stone. Said to date back to the founding of Roman London, the Stone is one of Britain’s most enigmatic and overlooked monuments.

A proverb states that “so long as the stone of Brutus is safe, so long shall London flourish”. Like the ravens of the Tower of London, the Stone’s fate is tied to that of the city.

Historical sources from medieval times reference the Stone and its importance to Londoners, yet few people today have ever heard of it.

Overlooked Monument

The Stone is a squarish block of rock about the size of an old television set. It sits inside an unprepossessing glass box in the side of a wall in Cannon Street, in the City of London. Until several years ago, the premises behind it was a sports shop.

The clearest view of the Stone was from inside the shop, surrounded by cricket paraphernalia and equipment. Incredibly, no local authority has responsibility for the Stone’s upkeep. For several years the monument’s unofficial guardian was Chris Cheek, the manager of the sports shop.

Interviewed by the BBC several years ago, Mr Cheek revealed that he had stepped in to prevent an overzealous builder from chipping off part of the Stone when the shop was being set up. According to Mr Cheek, tourists travelled from all over the world to see the monument – but most Londoners hurried past the site without the faintest idea that it was there.

So what are the true origins of the London Stone? And how did such an historic object become forgotten in the middle of one of the world’s busiest cities?

The Legend of Brutus

Brutus of Troy is a mythical figure to rival King Arthur in the annals of British legend – yet, like the London Stone with which he is associated, he remains obscure to modern minds. According to legend, Brutus was a Trojan prince who fled his homeland and was guided by the goddess Diana to the island of Albion, where he fought and defeated a race of giants before founding ‘New Troy’ – later London – in around 1070BC.

Brutus established his palace on the site of the Guildhall today and built a temple to Diana. Legend has it the London Stone was part of the altarpiece of the temple. Brutus lent his name to his followers – the Britons – and subsequently to the whole island.

Brutus was first celebrated in medieval times as the founder of Britain. Geoffrey of Monmouth, the excitable scribe to whom we owe most of Britain’s best legends, chronicled the exploits of Brutus in his 12th century opus, the History of the Kings of Britain. Geoffrey’s fantastic (and fantastical) work forged a direct link between Britain and the classical world of the Greeks, ensuring a noble and romantic lineage for the Britons that was perhaps rather at variance with reality.

Over time, the Stone became swept up into the story of Arthur, with some sources depicting it as the stone from which the king withdrew Excalibur.

Roman London

Brutus aside, the most commonly accepted theory is that the London Stone dates to Roman times. The Stone, which at one time may have measured 2.5m high, is believed to be a milliarium – a marking stone from which the Romans measured distances.

However, there are no Roman references to the Stone. The first written reference to the Stone comes in a book attributed to Athelstan or Ethelstone, the King of the West Saxons in the early 10th Century. The book lists rental properties according to their distance from the ‘London Stone’.

Medieval Sources

By the 12th century it is clear that the Stone was a well-known and important landmark for Londoners. A text dating from 1188 refers to London’s first mayor, Henry, son of Eylwin de Londenstane. Over time, the Stone became a place to make speeches, pass laws and swear allegiances.

In 1450, a former soldier by the name of Jack Cade proclaimed himself ‘lord of the city’ by striking his sword against the Stone. Cade was the leader of a revolt against the unpopular King Henry VI. Shakespeare immortalised Cade’s uprising to comic effect in ‘Henry VI Part 2’. One of Cade’s followers in the play utters the immortal line, “The first thing we must do is kill all the lawyers.”

Later History of the Stone

No less a personage than Sir Christopher Wren saw the London Stone being excavated in around 1678, as he was building the church of St Swithin. From the remains that were uncovered, Wren speculated that it once formed a part of a larger Roman structure. In 1798, the Stone, which had been impeding the busy 18th-century traffic, was moved from the south side of the street and placed in the side of the church’s wall.

Charles Dickens wrote a series of articles on the Stone in the mid-19th century, while contemporary engravings show the relic enclosed in a case similar to that of today, guarded by policemen.

During World War II, the Stone miraculously survived the destruction of St Swithin’s Church in an air raid. The remains of the church were eventually knocked down in 1962, to be replaced by the modern office building that houses it today.

Neglect

Having survived fire, flood, bombs and the dirty traffic of centuries, it is somewhat perplexing that the London Stone is now all but forgotten. Why was the Stone better known in medieval times than in the present day, when it has barely moved its position?

Somewhere amid the upheaval and horror of the 20th century, the Stone fell out of Londoners’ affections. Like music hall songs, jellied eels and ice-skating on the River Thames, it has slipped out of the popular consciousness.

Part of the problem, no doubt, is its grubby, overlooked location and presentation. The fact that the Stone has always been there means that no authority has ever taken charge of it. Unlike other ancient artefacts, no museum has ever thought to display it.

Moreover, the very nature of the Stone makes it unloved. It is not sculpted, it is not aesthetically pleasing – it is a lump of rock. No one knows what its purpose was and scientists have found no reliable way of dating it. Yet it has endured, and deserves to be celebrated for this reason alone.

The Future of the Stone

With plans afoot to demolish the building above it, the fate of the Stone is once again up for discussion. The relic could be moved to the Museum of London for safekeeping before being re-housed in the new Cannon Street Station, which is currently being redeveloped. However, such a plan would see the Stone removed from its traditional spot for the first time in centuries.

Until a local institution – whether it be a council, museum or society – takes charge of the Stone, it seems it will continue to languish in a state of neglect. It is an ignominious fate for such a fascinating relic. With the majority of historical sources at a loss to explain its origins, it seems likely that its true purpose is forever lost in the mists of time. In that sense, the London Stone can take on whatever significance we choose to give it – if we take the time out of our busy lives to stop and notice it.

Video: Watch episode 1 of our Ancient World in London video series, in which our intrepid explorers visit the London Stone

(Click here to read a transcript of this video)

You can participate in Ancient World in London through our contests – if you’re in London, then check out Ancient London Spotted, otherwise you can join in the fun with our virtual quest or the blogger’s challenge. Take a look through our (soon to be complete with your help) directory of The Ancient World in London and suggest any sites or artefacts that we may have missed. Do not hesitate to contact us if you have any suggestions for our webseries! Keep up-to-date with everything in the ancient world in London by subscribing to our RSS feeds, or by following us on Twitter, YouTube, Facebook, Flickr and iTunes. Heritage Key – Unlock the Wonders.

Genetic Britain: How Roman, Viking and Anglo-Saxon Genes Make up the UK’s DNA

Who are we? The genetic make-up of the British people is a hotly contested subject in academic and political circles. Britain has a tumultuous history that includes Anglo-Saxon, Norman and Roman invasions, but what legacy of these settlers and invaders remains in the DNA of Brits today?

The BNP’s Nick Griffin, who has recently gained a foothold in British politics, claimed recently to represent the “indiginous people” of Britain, comparing modern English, Scots, Irish and Welsh with the indiginous populations of North America and New Zealand.

But today’s Brit is a complex melting pot of influences. A revealing Channel 4 documentary in 2006 carried out genetic testing on eight people who believed themselves to be “100% English“, and found them all to have a rich genetic heritage beyond their expectations.

Advances in DNA profiling have enabled scientists and historians to probe the depths of British history in a new way. Can little strands of DNA tell us who are and where we came from? And how do these new approaches alter the established timeline of British history?

The Science Bit

The field of genetic research into ancestry is still in its infancy – although, as projects such as the human genome demonstrate, it is moving at a rate of knots.

Wave after wave of Europeans came to displace the native Britons

Geneticist Bryan Sykes – a human genetics professor at Oxford University and a science adviser to the British House of Commons – was one of the first people to successfully extract DNA from fossilised bones. In 1996, he dated a skeleton found in Cheddar Gorge, Somerset to around 7150BC.

In the last 15 years scientists have adopted two key methods of tracing ancestry through DNA. Mitochondrial DNA can be used to unpick female ancestry, while Y-chromosomes can determine male lineage.

When passed from father to son, the Y-chromosome is usually unchanged. However, over time, small variations occur – and these variations can be used to identify different population strands.

Who Were the First Brits?

Archaeological evidence near Lowestoft, Suffolk, indicates that the first human settlement in the British Isles was around 700,000 years ago, when – believe it or not – the climate was almost Mediterranean.

Researchers on the Ancient Human Occupation of Britain Project at the Natural History Museum in London suggest there were seven failed attempts at human occupation in prehistoric times. Each time humans were beaten by changes in climate. Permanent settlement did not occur until after the last ice age, around 12,000 years ago.

The traditional view of British history has generally held that the first inhabitants of the isles were the Celts, who were thought to have originated somewhere in central Europe.

These original Britons were subjugated by the Romans then displaced by an influx of Anglo Saxons from Germany and Holland in the sixth and seventh centuries AD. Later invasions by the Vikings and the Normans further altered the local population.

Recent research in genetics has found evidence to both support and disprove this traditional viewpoint. Broadly speaking, there are two main schools of thought – one argues that the British gene pool was profoundly affected by the influx of invaders; the other maintains that the British genetic make-up has changed little over time.

Anglo Saxon Wipeout

Not the name of a Dark Ages quiz show, but rather a theory used to assess the impact of the Anglo Saxons on Britain.

The Roman occupation of Britain had a profound impact on trade, culture and technology, but saw little in the way of actual immigration. After the Roman withdrawal in around 400AD, Britain entered the Dark Ages – and found itself increasingly vulnerable to attack by outside forces.

Wave after wave of Europeans came to displace the native Britons. The three main tribes were the Angles from Angeln in northern Germany, the Saxons from Lower Saxony, and the Jutes from the Jutland Peninsular.

It is almost impossible to say how many Anglo Saxons arrived or how violent the clashes between natives and settlers were. Historical sources are limited to just a handful of scribes, most of them writing years after the event. The sixth-century cleric Gildas, for example, describes some of the battles between the Britons and the Anglo Saxons, but hard facts are in short supply

Mass migration of Anglo Saxons would have ensured the dilution of the original British gene pool over the course of several centuries. What, then, can genetics tell us about the Anglo Saxon invasion?

Mass Migration Event?

A 2002 study at University College London (UCL) looked for evidence linking modern-day Brits to ancient Anglo Saxons. They compared the Y-chromosomes of present-day males in central England with those of men in Friesland, a Dutch province thought to be an Anglo Saxon homeland.

The study found remarkable genetic similarities between the two populations and concluded that a ‘mass migration event’ must have occurred in the Dark Ages. In other words, a flood of Anglo Saxons came to dominate the English gene pool, stopping short at the Welsh border. (The same study found that despite thousands of years of shared history, there is a marked genetic dissimilarity between English and Welsh people.)

In order to explain the wide genetic spread of the Anglo Saxons, it has been suggested the invading force must have numbered some 500,000 people – an enormous population movement for the time.

Apartheid System

Another UCL study in 2006 offered a different explanation. Anglo Saxons came to dominate the gene pool not through sheer weight of numbers but rather through their imposition of an ‘apartheid-style’ social hierarchy. The native Britons were reduced to second-class status and the Anglo Saxons enjoyed greater ‘reproductive success’; they had more babies, more often and more successfully than the subjugated, downtrodden Brits.

The researchers cited examples of other apartheid systems throughout history in support of their theory, alongside fragmentary evidence that appears to show Anglo Saxon laws discriminated against native people. The UCL team theorised that a force of 200,000 invaders could have dominated the gene pool in just 15 generations.

Other historical sources indicate that there was widespread Celtic migration away from Britain during the Dark Ages, as defeated Britons fled their lands to set up enclaves in Brittany (its name derived from Briton) and Galicia in Spain. The Celtic influence is still visible in the culture of these regions today.

In addition, diseases such as the plague of Justinian may account for what historians believe was a significant population decrease in the Dark Ages. A combination of these factors, therefore, radically altered the make-up of the British population.

The gene pool received new input with the arrival of the Vikings in the ninth century and the Normans in the eleventh. However, genetic researchers have yet to find a way of distinguishing between the Y-chromosomes of the Anglo Saxons and the later invaders – making it hard to say how much impact these groups had on the population.

Basque Country?

There are, however, high-profile voices that argue against the Anglo Saxon wipeout theory. Leading geneticists Bryan Sykes and Stephen Oppenheimer maintain that the British gene pool has remained largely unchanged since the first settlers arrived 12,000 years ago.

Both writers refute the traditional view that the Celts originated in central Europe and insist that they hailed from the Iberian peninsular – specifically the Basque country. The Irish, the Welsh and people in the west of England have been found to share up to 80% genetic similarity with modern-day Basques, falling to around 65% in eastern parts of England where Anglo Saxon and Viking influence was greater.

Oppenheimer goes further by questioning the notion that the British Isles were uniformly Celtic at the time of the Roman invasion. He has argued that the absence of Celtic words in English and the conspicuous lack of Celtic place names implies that England itself was not in fact a Celtic nation.

The theory goes that, by the time the Romans arrived, southern England was occupied by Germanic-speaking tribes with connections to Belgic Gaul. Julius Caesar himself, on a fleeting visit in around 50BC, reported that the locals spoke a dialect similar to that of the Gauls.

Oppenheimer’s reading of the genetic evidence also indicates there were people of Scandinavian origin living in northern and eastern Britain long before the Vikings invaded.

Perhaps most important of all, Oppenheimer’s research on specific gene types has found that Anglo Saxon DNA contributed as little as five per cent to male lines, with virtually no evidence of it occurring in female lines. Any similarities between modern-day Britons and Anglo Saxons, he argues, can be attributed to common ancestors way back in the distant past.

A Cultural Legacy

If DNA cannot yet provide a definitive answer, historians must approach the problem from more traditional angles. Over the course of time, invaders left more than just a genetic stamp on the British Isles – they built towns and forts, changed the culture and radically transformed the language.

The Romans founded London, built roads, baths and aqueducts, overhauled trade and introduced coinage.

The Vikings brought with them words from Old Norse that remain in our language today – some of them tellingly aggressive (knife, ransack, die), some rather more elemental (husband, sky, bairn, get, call).

The Normans had arguably the greatest impact, establishing one of the oldest monarchical lines in the word, overhauling the political and legal systems, and fusing French and English words together, as well as kick-starting a thousand-year rivalry with the Old Enemy.

The Original Briton

No study can ever fully measure the vast contributions made by each of these invading forces to the make-up of the British Isles – linguistically, culturally and genetically. The idea of the ‘original Briton’ may continue to obsess certain political elements, but it seems likely that he will remain as mythical as King Arthur – a Briton who would probably have his own things to say on Anglo Saxon wipeout.

It is clear, then, that the answer to who we are lies as much beyond these sceptred isles as within them. Life here, it seems, began out there. As the UCL scientists Neil Bradman and Mark Thomas summarised in their study of the Y chromosome, “if we go back far enough, all men are not only born equal, but are paternally related.”

Alternatives to Stonehenge: 10 Places to Celebrate the Summer Solstice

Okay so you’re too far away from Stonehenge/don’t have the time/fed up of charging through 40,000 overtired revellers: where else can you see the summer solstice this year? Worry not, for here are ten other places on the British Isles you’re more than welcome to see in the midsummer sun. Remember, you can see the summer solstice at our very own Stonehenge Virtual.

1. Avebury Stone Circle, Wiltshire

Just a few miles from Stonehenge, Avebury is a gorgeous megalithic rotunda – bigger than Stonehenge – with its own ancient avenue: the differences being you can freely wander round it on any day, and you can grab a pint afterwards within the circle itself, in the handily placed – if annoying for Druids no doubt – Red Lion. It’s not completely ridiculous that you could knock off Avebury and Stonehenge in the same day (they’re roughly 25 miles apart), though the roads are sure to be just as nightmarish as a jaunt through central London at rush-hour.

Look out for: A cheeky pint after the revelry; the West Kennet Avenue connecting Avebury to the Sanctuary one-and-a-half miles away.

Avoid: Sheep, and everything sheep related (yes); thinking you can hot-foot it from Stonehenge to Avebury in no time – it won’t happen.

2. The Rollright Stones, Oxfordshire/Warwickshire border

Personally, for me the Rollright Stones embody what Britain’s ancient heritage is all about. At first unassuming, almost apologetic in their downbeat appearance, but with an incredible prehistory. The stones may not have the same glamour as Stonehenge, but they certainly pack a historical punch, and by getting close you can see the handiwork that has made them a minor attraction. Don’t expect fireworks, but there will be a few hardy souls to see in the sun if you want a low-key solstice.

Look out for: Your research beforehand – No Neolithic site is truly appreciated without its context, but the Rollright Stones have a particularly colourful past. Look it up at this unusually exemplary website.

Avoid: Noise. The stones are annoyingly flanked by a busy through-road, but you can avoid the dirge by getting yourself behind the copious foliage nearby – it’s a much better sight.

3. Glastonbury Tor, Somerset

Glastonbury is clearly better known for its annual festival, drawing the biggest names from the world of music. But Glastonbury Tor, a pyramidic hill on which sits the ruins of St Michael’s Church, a stunning 14th century AD monastic tower. Every solstice a few hundred revellers see in the midsummer sunrise, though judging by this video it’s not exactly the event Stonehenge promises to be. But if you don’t want to be hemmed in and still get a great vista of the region many historians feel to have once been a vibrant prehistoric civilisation (the view is spectacular), look no further.

Look out for: The wider view. Of course you’ll want to see the sun rise, but take a moment – and your camera – to appreciate what William Blake meant by ‘England’s green and pleasant land’. The view is truly beautiful.

Avoid: Summer clothes. As Ann has already reminded you: Stonehenge is bloomin’ cold. How about 500ft up? Make sure you’re suitably wrapped up for the British summer.

4. Golowan, Penzance, Cornwall

Golowan is best summed up in the blurb on its homepage, which describes it as being created, “on a shoestring, a prayer and the fantastic committment of our community.” The eight-day festival is a hotch-potch of parades, partying and local music. It begins on the 20th and ends on the 27th, which apparently roughly translates to the gap between St John’s Eve and St Peter’s Eve. Expect lots of good ol’ English fun including mayors’ speeches, bonfires and a little drinking.

Look out for: Penglaz the Penzance ‘Obby ‘Oss. A uniquely Cornish phenomenon, Penglaz is essentially a spooky-looking hobby horse which once accompanied Christmas guisers (trick-or-treaters) as they wandered through Penzance. Keep an eye out for his macabre skeletal face and loyal fans.

Avoid: Your daily clothing. As you might expect Golowan is awash with fancy dress, so you’d look a fool in your Sunday best.

5. Sighthill, Glasgow

Sighthill can hardly call itself an ancient stone circle. In fact it’s barely reached its toddler years as far as pagan landmarks go. The Glasgow inner-city circle was created by amateur astronomer and science writer Duncan Lunan in the late 1970s, and was Britain’s first aligned stone circle in over 3,000 years. Sadly for Duncan and Druid Glaswegians the money ran out, and a Thatcher-led government left four of the stones to waste away beneath a bush. Now Duncan wants to revive his scheme, with an inaugural ceremony to be held on the solstice.

Look out for: Duncan himself, who has been working on the project for over 30 years, and is sure to be the most thrilled person in Glasgow if people turn up for the midsummer sun.

Avoid: Your Tory rosette, if you’ve got one. The plans were shelved abruptly in the late 1970s, leaving poor Duncan high and dry. He may not have forgotten.

6. Pendle Witch Camp, Trawden, Lancashire

This low-key event in the north of England may not be stealing any headlines, but there’s plenty to keep you entertained – even if it’s hardly a religious occasion. There’s belly dancing, circus skills, music and entertainment – all with a very, very loose witchy theme. Apparently the festival offers activities for both pagans and cowans, though I’m unaware of any pagan religion worshipping through poi.

Look out for: Just about everything, really – from magic performers to expert dancers…in a muddy field in Lancashire.

Avoid: How about the ‘rare visionary and psychotropic plants and herbs from around the globe’?

7. Orkney, Scotland

The heart of Neolithic Orkney is hardly a secret – it’s a UNESCO World Heritage Site – but an abundance in ancient stone circles makes it an ideal place to see in the solstice, if a little cold. Though the Orkney tourist board only runs walks round the Ring of Brodgar each day at 1pm, and the Standing Stones of Stenness every Tuesday and Thursday, you can expect a fair few highland partygoers ready to get a spectacular view across one of the world’s greatest Neolithic sites.

Look out for: A car. Getting public transport around Orkney is about as fun as eating your own eyelids.

Avoid: Again, summery clothes. Yes it’s summer, yes it’s the longest day of the year: but that doesn’t mean you can survive the biting cold of a brisk Scottish morning. And take a flask of cocoa.

8. Castlerigg, Cumbria

Castlerigg is Cumbria’s most visited stone circle, comprising 38 5,000-year-old stones set against the beauty of the Lake District. Arch Druid of Cumbria Paul Bills hails Castlerigg as a growing destination among the pagan fraternity. “Castlerigg is one of Britain’s oldest stone circles, having been dated to around 1,000 – 1,500 years older than Stonehenge, and is unique by having a sanctuary area within it. It is the perfect place to enjoy this most sacred of days.” Don’t take Paul’s word for it – get yourself down to Castlerigg alongside the hundreds of others who celebrate the solstice there each year.

Look out for: Some hiking shoes. This ain’t no Stonehenge with its visitor centre and cups of coffee. You’ll need to work for your sunrise if you want to see it in at Castlerigg.

Avoid: Old wives’ tales. Many people claim to have seen mysterious ‘light balls’ in and around the stones. Maybe they should’ve bought a better camera.

9. The City of London

Tower Hill, one of the capital’s hottest tourist spots, was once a thriving Druid site. Whether these ancient Celts spilled blood on the soil is another point. Nonetheless the City of London may be just as spectacular a place to see the summer solstice as anywhere else: who say you have to celebrate in an ancient stone circle? Take a look at this example from New York’s Manhattan and you may just be turned to the modern side…

Look out for: A frappe-mocha-skinny latte. Or a nice pub to drink in once the sun’s well and truly up, of which there are many.

Avoid: Thinking everyone in London will be rude to you. It’s simply not true, just pick your subjects wisely: probably best not to accost a bunch of football fans while you’re in your Druid robes.

10. Your Own Home

Okay so this is a simple one, but if you simply can’t get down to Stonehenge, or any of the above, why not get up early and see the sun rise out of your bedroom window? It may not be as spectacular, busy or as historically vital as many places, but hey – it only happens once a year and you can stroll down the road, grab a paper and eat some breakfast in privacy. Now that’s something you definitely can’t do at a freezing stone circle in the West Country. Of course knowing the weather there’s a good chance you’ll see little more than grey skies: remember, then, that the skies of Stonehenge Virtual are always crystal clear, and that it’s no more than a few clicks away.

Look out for: Erm, the sun? That’s it, the big yellow thing poking out of the sky.

Avoid: I wouldn’t want to get involved in your private affairs, but fried eggs over scrambled? Bad choice.

Forteviot: Lifting The Lid on a 4,000 Year Old Burial Chamber in Perthshire’s Stonehenge

It’s more than 4,000 years since people have stood around this grave-site unified by such an electrifying sense of awe and anticipation. Here in the tiny hamlet of Forteviot, nestled in a bend of the River Earn in the floor of a lush agricultural valley six miles southwest of Perth, the lid is about to be lifted on what archaeologists hope is a burial cist in one of the biggest Neolithic monuments in Scotland.

We wait in chorus-line fashion, arrayed along the peak of the spoil-heap at the south edge of the trench cut into the ditch of a 250m-diameter henge. Around 50 archaeology undergraduates, lecturers and volunteer diggers are speculating on what’s underneath a four-tonne sandstone megalith which stunned site directors when it was unearthed in the 2008 three-week excavation season. In the intervening 12 months a lot of anticipation has built up around this stone. Believed to have been quarried locally, the massive five-sided angular block, measuring approximately two metres in diameter and 40 centimetres thick, appeared to have been packed-in stones. Initial theories supposed it to be a standing stone laid down on its side, potentially covering a cist burial cut into the henge.

Today, as a crane operator loops straps around its jutting corners and begins gingerly to raise it, excitable theories range from it being a manhole covering a subterranean supernatural tunnel, from which red light is going to shoot out, to there being a crisp packet wedged beneath it. The reality turns out to be beyond the greatest hopes of the archaeologists.

An Important Pictish Power-Base

First identified as cropmarks by aerial photography in the mid-1970s, the Neolithic ritual complex at Forteviot has been the focus of the SERF (Strathearn Environs and Royal Forteviot) research project, conducted by the Universities of Glasgow and Aberdeen, since 2006. Dr Kenneth Brophy and Prof Steve Driscoll, of Glasgow, and Dr Gordon Noble, of Aberdeen, are co-directors of the site, which has been documented in historical sources as having early Christian and significant medieval connotations as the place where Kenneth MacAlpin, first king of a unified Scotland, died at the “palace” of Forteviot.

Earliest mentions of Forteviot’s significance as an important Pictish power-base include the St Andrews Foundation Legend, 1140-53, which stated that a cross was erected by St Regulus and a basilica, dedicated to St Andrew, by Pictish king Hungus in the 8th or 9th century. It is also referred to in the Pictish king lists and the Chronicles of the Kings of Alba, which state that Cinead, son of Alpin (Kenneth MacAlpin), died “at the palacium of Forteviot” in 858 AD. Extensive documentary research has been carried out for the SERF project by Dr Nick Evans. The valley, bounded by ridges on the east and west, was marked by two impressive Pictish carved stone crosses, one of which, the Dupplin Cross, now stands a few miles along the valley floor in St Serf’s Church in nearby Dunning, while the other was destroyed.

While the excavation of a medieval cemetery and possible high-status enclosure at Forteviot, as well as digging at a hillfort at Green of Invermay and continuing search for evidence of the “palacium,” have been a key objective of the 2009 dig season, it is the lifting of the stone at the henge, situated in a corn field to the rear of Forteviot parish church, which has made national newspaper headlines.

It’s a Cist!

As the huge stone slab wobbles upwards suspended from the crane, with a couple of heart-stopping dunts as the straps slip from its corners, letting it clunk alarmingly back to the ground, the tension among the site directors is palpable. Prostrated on the ground, they peer under the stone, and the word flies out: there’s either a pit burial or a stone-lined cist underneath. As the capstone is laid face-down on the grass outside of the trench, the directors cluster around excitedly, and Dr Brophy yells over to the diggers craning to see from the spoil heap to confirm it’s a cist burial.

Investigation of the contents reveal incredible preservation of organic materials. Initial rumour of skeletal remains – almost unheard of in Scotland due to the acidic nature of the soil which disintegrates them – disappointingly turn out to be untrue. But there is what excavators describe as human residue – “white gunk,” to put it unscientifically. The burial appears to have been laid on a bed of quartz stones, of regular size, still gleaming white inside the cist with its beautiful, incredibly regular stone edging. On top of these has been a bed of birch-bark latticework, upon which the body was laid.

Within the burial there is a copper object, a copper dagger with a leather sheath, fragments of a wooden bowl, and a wooden and leather bag or container at what is believed to have been the end of the grave where the head was. At this end, the interior slab has carvings of axes on it, while the huge capstone itself has a unique carving of what seems to be a spiral plus an axe – something never before found in this part of Perthshire.

Removed the following day by specialist conservators from Historic Scotland, the organic and metal materials will be X-rayed and examined in the laboratory to find out more about them, while phosphate samples from the soil have been meticulously taken and will reveal much more detail not only about the interior of the grave, but also the wider landscape in which this burial, which has preliminarily been dated to 2200-2100 BC, was laid out.

Perthshire’s Agamemnon

As they work beneath a gazebo brought in to cover the cist, Dr Brophy and Dr Noble explain that the Early Bronze Age burial is around 500 years later than the henge monument, which measured 250 metres diameter, with a ditch six metres deep and two or three metres wide, encircled on the exterior by massive timber posts, possibly up to one metre thick, and a palisade, making it the largest enclosed space in Neolithic Scotland and on a par in terms of size and significance with Avebury, in southwest England. “In fact it would have been even more impressive than Avebury,” asserts Dr Brophy.

It’s later re-use seems to indicate that this location in prehistoric Forteviot was adapted for a different sort of purpose, while retaining its ritual significance over a long period of time. “A lot of effort has been taken to build this, which could equate to a high-status person being buried here, someone who has warranted this effort,” says Dr Noble. “It wouldn’t have been easy to move that four-tonne capstone.”

Dr Brophy adds: “They have some kind of high status. Whether that is negative or positive we can’t know, but something has picked them out for this.”

While there is no body, the real treasure of this grave, according to Dr Noble, is its impressive array of organic preservation. “It gives us insight into things other than those that normally survive, such as flint and metal objects, and will tell us a lot about what was going on in this period that we haven’t known before.”

“If this henge was built of stone, rather than earth and timber, it would be a place that pagans and hippies would worship, it would be more important than Stonehenge.”

But while the grave has been in the limelight this summer, with newspaper headline writers proclaiming the “hero” and “power-lord” as they gaze upon the face of Perthshire’s very own Agamemnon, Dr Brophy points out that the other work going on is no less vital to understanding this enormously complicated site and what made it so special to people over a span of 3,000 years.

“The burial is really visual, it’s really easy to understand something about this type of archaeology, whereas some of the other things we are doing on site, because it’s cropmark archaeology, it’s a lot harder to understand unless you’re trained in archaeology to know what you’re seeing under the soil,” he says. “This monument would have dwarfed Stonehenge. There are pits inside it, and this summer we’re working on a mini-henge at one edge of it, trying to understand whether there were certain groups that had privileged access to certain areas. At some later stage the ditch was dramatically enlarged to perhaps 10 metres deep and three metres wide, then later again filled in with rubble you can see everywhere on the site. One of the objectives of this season is to understand these later phases, and the cist burial is part of that.”

Dr Noble concurs: “The cist burial is visually accessible to people, it gives a sense of what people were doing in the past. It’s the grave of an individual; that’s something most people can relate to, losing someone in their family.”

More Important Than Stonehenge?

Nobody who is on-site for the lifting of the stone underestimates its significance. The excitement as we take the tools back at the end of the day is palpable; we are all too aware that we’ve been part of an important find that will make the textbooks in years to come. “This is a once-in-a-career find,” one of the site supervisors acknowledges. “If this henge was built of stone, rather than earth and timber, it would be a place that pagans and hippies would worship – it would be more important than Stonehenge. Because it’s timber, which no longer exists, and a ditch and bank that you can no longer see, it’s hard to get people to understand how important and how massive a site this is.”