Rome’s strategy in dealing with the Pictish threat after
c.340 was essentially defensive and reactive. Retaliatory strikes deep into the
Highlands were no longer part of the plan. Instead, the prime objective was
maintenance of a static frontier supplemented by covert military operations
between the two walls and in the wild lands further north. In an effort to
maintain the integrity of Hadrian’s Wall the Romans were helped by Britons
living in the lands beyond. The native population of this region between the
Hadrianic line and the disused Antonine ramparts became a first line of
defence. Such an arrangement suited the economic constraints and political
uncertainties facing Rome at that time. It allowed a dwindling number of
imperial troops to be redeployed elsewhere. At the hub of the new defensive
network lay Hadrian’s Wall with its forts and crossing-points. Behind the great
barrier stretched an infrastructure of roads, forts and watchtowers providing
both an early warning system and a capability for rapid response. In theory at
least, this strategy of ‘defence in depth’ shielded the people of Britannia
from hostile attacks by Picts, Saxons, Irish and other predators. North of
Hadrian’s Wall the four outpost forts garrisoned in the third century were
still occupied at the dawn of the fourth. Although situated outside the
Empire’s boundary, none of the quartet lay more than twenty miles from the
Wall. Their garrisons supervised the natives of the intervallate zone, a
population whose status vis-à-vis the imperial authorities after 300 remains a
matter of debate. In this region four large amalgamations of Britons already
existed in the second century: the previously mentioned Damnonii, Votadini,
Selgovae and Novantae. Whether these groups owed their origin to Rome’s
onslaught in the first century or were formed in spite of it we are unable to
say. By c.300, they may have been in existence for two hundred years or more,
but how much longer they endured is unknown. Ptolemy’s map shows their
positions relative to one another and identifies their chief centres of power.
Although the map shows a snapshot of political geography as perceived by Roman
geographers in the second century, the distribution of peoples in the
intervallate region may have remained largely unchanged two hundred years
later.
On Ptolemy’s map we see the Novantae inhabiting the northern
shorelands of the Solway Firth, in territory corresponding to present-day
Dumfriesshire and Galloway. Although their lands were vulnerable to raids from
Ireland and the Hebridean seaways, their main centres of power were sited on
the western coast, in the vicinity of Loch Ryan and modern Stranraer. Here, the
long peninsula of the Rhinns of Galloway, marked on the map as Novantarum
Chersonesus, protrudes into the Irish Sea. The key settlements were Rerigonium (possibly
Innermessan) and Loucopibia (possibly Gatehouse of Fleet). Directly north, in
what is now the county of Ayrshire, lay territory associated with either the
Novantae or with a people called Damnonii (or Dumnonii). Damnonian lands
included the lower valley and estuary of the River Clyde, together with parts
of what later became the medieval earldom of Lennox. An important centre of
power in this area was the imposing mass of Dumbarton Rock, a volcanic ‘plug’
jutting into the Firth of Clyde and dominating the surrounding area. Traces of
elite occupation on the summit indicate that it was used by high-status Britons
as far back as pre-Roman times. Later, when local native leaders were
apparently co-operating with Rome, the great Rock may have guarded imperial
interests in the north-western seaways. Through the Damnonian heartlands ran
the western extremity of the Antonine Wall, its turf ramparts and abandoned
forts already falling into dereliction by c.300. Further east, in Stirlingshire
and Lothian, the redundant barrier meandered through the northern borderlands
of the Votadini, another of the four intervallate groupings. Votadinian
territory extended south of the Firth of Forth to the River Tweed and perhaps
even as far as Hadrian’s Wall. Its hub was evidently the Castle Rock at
Edinburgh, but other hilltop strongholds, such as a probable oppidum on
Traprain Law, were also used in Roman times. The northern borderlands of the
Votadini faced the Maeatae of Stirlingshire and the Picts of Fife. On the south-western
flank lay the Selgovae (‘Hunters’), another large amalgamation of peoples.
Selgovan territory included the central and upper vales of Tweed together with
vast tracts of uncharted forest. Unlike their neighbours, the Selgovan elites
of the third and fourth centuries were closely supervised by Rome. Within their
territory lay the last of the outpost forts: Bewcastle and Netherby in the
valleys north of Carlisle, and Risingham on the strategic Dere Street highway.
The nature of the relationship between the Empire and the
intervallate Britons in Late Roman times is difficult to ascertain. It may have
been sustained by regular payments from the imperial coffers to purchase the
continuing goodwill of the four groups described above. One theory imagines their
kings and chiefs as foederati, ‘federates’, of Rome, their domains constituting
a buffer-zone between Hadrian’s Wall and the northern barbarians. If these
Britons did indeed serve as allies of Rome, they would have been expected to
bear the brunt of raids on the imperial frontier. Thus, while nominally
independent, they may have pledged to protect Roman interests against the
Pictish menace. Nevertheless, to all but the most trusting Roman officials, the
intervallate Britons would have represented a potential threat. Keeping an eye
on them was arguably the main function of the exploratores, ‘scouts’, a class
of troops whom we can envisage patrolling beyond the outpost forts. These men
were perhaps similar to the colonial rangers of eighteenth-century North
America, using local knowledge to gather intelligence and launching punitive
raids on troublemakers. The outpost fort at Netherby became so closely
associated with these ‘special forces’ that it was known along the frontier as
Castra Exploratorum (‘Fort of the Scouts’). Operating alongside the
exploratores were the shadowy areani or arcani, members of a secret service
responsible for covert operations, whose agents spied on the Picts and other
barbarians. Historians sometimes regard them as a kind of ‘Roman CIA’ and the
analogy may be broadly accurate.
Little is known of the kings and chieftains who ruled the
intervallate Britons during the fourth century. Some appear to be named in
genealogical texts preserved in medieval Wales but possibly drawing data from
much older northern sources. The Welsh genealogies or ‘pedigrees’ show the
lineages of a number of North British kings who lived in the sixth and seventh
centuries. Each pedigree uses a sequence of patronyms (‘X son of Y son of Z’)
to extend a royal ancestry back to the Late Roman period and, in some cases, to
an even more remote time. Any hope of gleaning genuine fourth-century history
is hindered by the stark fact that the texts containing the pedigrees were
written no earlier than the ninth century. Most survive only in manuscripts of
the twelfth century or later and none can be shown to be original creations by
North Britons rather than by Welshmen. The pedigrees cannot therefore be
regarded as storehouses of reliable information, especially for any period
before the time of the historical North British kings. As repositories of
genealogical data relating to the fourth century their value is even more
limited. They require very careful handling if they are to be used at all.
Several pedigrees include figures whose chronological
contexts seem to coincide with the final phase of Roman rule in Britain. Cinhil
and Cluim, for instance, are two individuals listed as ancestors of a
ninth-century king who ruled on the Clyde. We cannot be certain that these two
are anything more than fictitious ‘ghosts’ inserted into the pedigree to give
it a longer and more impressive lineage. If they existed, they probably belong
to the second half of the fourth century and may have been members of the
Damnonian elite. Another example is Padarn, apparently a Votadinian, to whom
the genealogists gave the epithet or nickname Pesrut (‘Red Tunic’). Alongside
Cinhil and Cluim, Padarn Pesrut is often regarded as a Briton of the
intervallate zone in Late Roman times. It has been suggested that all three
sprang from Romanised or pro-Roman families, their names being seen as medieval
Welsh renderings of Quintilius, Clemens and Paternus. Upon this a more or less
plausible scenario of loyal native foederati defending the Empire’s northern frontier
has been constructed, with Padarn’s red tunic being interpreted as a Roman
military garment, a gift from an imperial official to a trusted ally. Such
theories are imaginative but need not be taken seriously. Regardless of whether
or not the later Welsh names derive from Latin-sounding originals, we have no
reason to believe that such naming was exclusive to the imperial authorities or
to foederati in their service. Many non-Romans, friends and foes of the Empire
alike, arguably bestowed Roman-sounding names on their children if it pleased
them to do so. A young North Briton bearing a name such as Quintilius or
Clemens was just as likely to develop anti-Roman sentiments as a compatriot who
bore a non-Latin name. Nor is there anything uniquely Roman about the colour of
Padarn’s tunic, which could have been obtained from any competent tailor whose
skills included the extraction of red dye from plants such as madder. There
were no doubt many red tunics among Rome’s friends in the lands north of
Hadrian’s Wall, but probably just as many blue or green ones. Indeed, it is
easy to imagine the nickname Pesrut being bestowed on any Pictish warrior in
the hostile country beyond the Firth of Forth who chose to wear a bright red
garment on military expeditions.
The Crisis of 367
The effectiveness of security arrangements on the northern
frontier was put to the test in the second half of the fourth century when
barbarian attacks increased. As well as the ever-hostile Picts the imperial
garrison also endured raids by Gaelic-speaking groups in the western seaways –
the Irish and the ‘Scots’. At this time the name Scotti seems to have been
borne by, or bestowed upon, any marauding band from Ireland or Argyll. Indeed,
it is likely that Roman observers regarded all the Gaels as one people. Like
the Picts, these raiders from the West had taunted Rome since the time of
Agricola. Three more groups now joined them: the Franks, whose descendants in
the following century would leave their mark on Roman Gaul by turning it into France;
the Saxons, who were soon to play a similarly important role in Britain; and a
mysterious people called Attacotti who were perhaps of Irish or Hebridean
origin. Eventually, the leaders of these hostile nations devised a barbarica
conspiratio, a ‘barbarian conspiracy’, to co-ordinate their attacks on Roman
Britain. Their plans came to fruition after crucial information was provided by
traitors on the Roman side: corrupt officials, army deserters and rogue agents
among the arcani. In 367, a huge barbarian assault was unleashed, its impact
sweeping away the imperial defences. Seaborne raids from east and west drove
far inland into the rich countryside of southern Britain, bringing death and
destruction to the bewildered citizens. Towns were ransacked and villas were
looted. Down from the north came the Picts, some to overwhelm the garrisons of
Hadrian’s Wall while others swarmed along the eastern coast in flotillas of
boats. The outpost forts north of the Wall were either bypassed or overwhelmed.
In a battle between the frontier army and Pictish marauders, Fullofaudes, the
senior Roman general in Britain, was taken prisoner. Leaderless and
demoralised, the entire imperial garrison was thrown into chaos. Some soldiers
cast off their uniforms and deserted their posts, while others roamed the land
in lawless gangs. Fearing the total loss of Britain, the emperor Valentinian
despatched a strike force of elite regiments led by the renowned Count
Theodosius. Two years of hard fighting eventually led to the expulsion of the
barbarians and, after Theodosius issued an amnesty for deserters, stability was
gradually restored. The soldiers returned to their forts and Hadrian’s Wall was
reinstated as the boundary of the Empire. In the wake of the crisis, however,
the outposts beyond the Wall were finally abandoned. Theodosius redeployed what
remained of their garrisons, disbanded the treacherous arcani and withdrew all
Roman forces behind the Tyne–Solway line.
After the disaster of 367, the Britons beyond Hadrian’s Wall
were effectively cut off from their countrymen south of it. Both groups had
suffered grievously during the barbarian onslaught, but there is no record of
Theodosius driving Pictish raiders from the lands of the Damnonii or Votadini.
The natives of the intervallate zone were presumably left to fend for
themselves. One medieval Welsh legend tells of a Votadinian prince or chieftain
called Cunedda who led a warband to North Wales to expel a colony of Irish
pirates from Gwynedd. Cunedda’s position in the genealogies makes him a figure
of the late fourth to mid-fifth century and this chronology has led some
historians to see him as a Roman federate transferred from Lothian during the
Theodosian reorganisation. Much detailed speculation about Rome’s relationship
with the Votadini has been woven around this scenario, but the data is too
fragile to support it. A more sceptical, more objective view sees the story of
Cunedda as a later Welsh attempt to create a fictional link between the kings
of Gwynedd and their fellow-Britons of the North.
Among the repercussions of the barbarian conspiracy the most
ominous development, at least for the native population of Roman Britain, was
the recruitment of Germanic foederati to guard the southern towns. These were
mostly Angles, Saxons, Jutes and Frisians from the North Sea coastlands of what
are now Denmark and Germany. In northern Britain there were fewer towns and
villas than in the south, but one area where Romanisation had taken root was
the fertile Vale of York. There are archaeological hints that German warriors
were settled in this district in the late fourth century, either by Theodosius
after 367 or by the imperial usurper Magnus Maximus in 383. Serving Rome as
mercenaries, the Germans initially performed a useful gatekeeping role against
seaborne attacks by Pictish and Saxon pirates. Like all hirelings their
services were not given freely, but were bought with regular gifts of cash from
the imperial treasury. Any disruption to these payments was likely to turn
friendship and service to ill-feeling and hostility.
In the 370s, the lands south of Hadrian’s Wall returned to a
position of watchfulness. The northern frontier remained on a high state of
alert, as did the lines of forts and signal-towers along the western and eastern
coasts. North of the Wall the independent Britons, almost certainly without
Roman help, repelled marauding bands of Picts and regained control of their own
borders. But the barbarians were not so easily cowed and their raids continued
to gnaw Britannia from all sides. With the situation deteriorating once more,
the conspirators of 367 may have watched in gleeful disbelief as parts of the
imperial garrison began to leave the island in the period after 380. The first
big troop-withdrawal came in 383 when Magnus Maximus, a high-ranking officer in
Britain, resolved to make himself emperor. Ironically, he had previously
inflicted heavy defeats on the Picts and Scots, but now he poured his energies
into his personal ambitions. Supported and encouraged by other officers, he led
a substantial army across the sea to Gaul, thereby depleting Britain of forces
essential for her protection. The barbarians are likely to have taken full
advantage of his departure, but this time there was no Theodosius to confront
them. Troubles elsewhere in the Empire made it impossible to send
reinforcements to Britain. Another famous general, the half-Vandal Flavius
Stilicho, is depicted in a contemporary Latin poem leading an expedition
against the Picts at the end of the fourth century. It seems, however, that
this campaign existed only in the imagination of the poet Claudian who used it
as a literary device to illustrate the far-reaching extent of Stilicho’s fame.
In reality, the Empire lacked the will to rescue Britain from the brink of
catastrophe. To compound the situation, the Roman authorities now faced a peril
much closer to home.
On the last night of the year 405, the imperial frontier in
Germany was overwhelmed by a host of Vandals, Alans and other barbarians who
crossed the Rhine to begin the dismemberment of Roman Gaul. In Britain the
garrison reacted by rallying around Constantine, an ambitious officer with an
auspicious name, and proclaimed him emperor. Leading a large force, Constantine
sailed over to Gaul to assert his claim against forces loyal to the legitimate
emperor Honorius. The loyalists were victorious and the usurper was executed.
By 410, his henchmen in Britain were rooted out, but they bequeathed a
desperate situation. With the depleted imperial troops struggling to stand firm
against barbarian raids, the native elites of the southern towns seized control
of the imperial administration. Taking the initiative, these Romanised Britons
restored a semblance of order before appealing to the emperor for aid. But
Honorius was grappling with the problems of a disintegrating Empire and had no
help to offer to beleaguered subjects in a faraway land. Instead, he sent a
letter urging the anxious Britons to organise their own defence. This had
profound consequences for the remaining Roman troops, all of whom relied on
wages issued by the imperial treasury. Their pay had probably been arriving
erratically for some time, but now it ceased altogether. Without it the
soldiers had no incentive or obligation to defend the Empire. On the northern
frontier, groups of disillusioned men gradually abandoned their forts, taking
their families with them and vanishing into the countryside. In the lands to
the south, the last vestiges of imperial bureaucracy were swept away as power
was seized by native leaders. By c.420, the Roman occupation of Britain was
over.
