Tony Henderson, award-winning Environment Editor of The Journal and author of the new book My Country: Discovering North East England, on the spell cast by Hadrian’s Wall.
 
IT would seem eminently sufficient for the region simply to have Hadrian’s Wall – an astonishing monument which marks the northernmost limit of the Roman Empire.


But there is so much more than the Wall itself and the forts which stud its length.
Add to that the often breathtaking setting of this world heritage site and the many ways in which we can feel the presence of the men and women who lived, worked and fought along the frontier all those centuries ago.


The rugged landscape along the central section of the Wall in Northumberland has changed remarkably little.


We can enjoy much the same sweeping views as did the Romans, such as the giddying glance into the gorge of the River Irthing at Birdoswald fort near Gilsland, or from the heights of the Whin Sill ridge on which much of the Wall is perched and which  provides the backdrop to jaw-dropping vistas like Crag Lough.


Walk north to the Ice Age lakes of Greenlee and Broomlee loughs –hearing the same sounds of curlew and skylark as people then did - and look back at the Wall from the “enemy” side. Archaeological evidence suggests they would have been confronted by a Wall whitewashed for maximum visual impact which gave out the message: “Don’t mess with us.”




But the stunning sights are not confined to the wide open spaces. Segedunum (meaning Strong Fort) at Wallsend, in urban Tyneside, has a functioning replica Roman bath house based on that at Chesters fort in Northumberland.


It is framed by the giant shipyard cranes behind – a  dramatic contrast which speaks of two civilizations.


At the fort there is also a memorial bearing the names of 129 Romans known to have worked on building the Wall, taken from inscription stones left by the work gangs after completing their section.


There are tantalising tastes of the cosmopolitan flavour of the Wall –  such as the tombstone erected at Arbeia fort in South Shields by Barates, from the desert city of Palmyra in Syria.


A detachment of Tigris Bargemen from modern Iraq was based at Arbeia – thought to mean the “place of the Arabs.”


We know that the garrisons of forts along the Wall were Batavians, raised in Holland, Tungrians, a Germanic tribe from northern Belgium, Dacians from Romania and Austurian Spanish cavalry.


What must life have been like at the outpost fort of Bremenium (Place of the Roaring Stream), near Rochester, the most northerly base in the empire, where scouts were employed rather like the Indians working for the US cavalry and a giant catapult was needed for protection?


It is in this wilderness that a Roman senator’s daughter, Julia Lucilla, found herself after marrying a career officer called Rufinus who served as the fort’s commander. Their details are recorded in the tombstone she commissioned for him.
But it is from Vindolanda fort that we hear most clearly the voices from almost 2,000 years ago.


There is the essay in disappointment which was found during excavations of a ditch – a barrel of largely unopened oysters thrown away because they were inedible and a case of beautiful Samian ware pottery from France which had been broken in transit.


Finds have included the hairpiece – made from moss – which is believed to have been  worn by Lepidina, the wife of fort commander  Flavius Cerialis, to fend off insects like midges.


But the best direct line with the past is through the 1,700 writing tablets found at Vindolanda, which include a birthday party invitation, allocations of beer, a reference to the “nasty little Brits”, a letter saying that 20 pairs of socks and two pairs of underpants have been despatched, shopping lists, expenses claims and a writer who informs us that he is penning the missive while “I am keeping the bed warm.”


Beer and expenses, socks and underpants – nothing changes, not least the wonder that is the Wall.
 
 
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