​Though widely regarded as poor in early Anglo-Saxon (5-7th century) burial archaeology, the West Midlands is home to some spectacularly furnished burials, most of which, excavated prior to modern archaeology and with finds not on public display, remain obscure even to specialists. During this series we have explored a particular zone -- the Warwickshire Avon Valley — which is unusually rich in cemetery archaeology, representing an 'Anglo-British' community at a crossroads between different cultural zones, and living at a time when, in surrounding kingdoms, early medieval kingdoms were beginning to form.  

Previous chapters have explored the archaeology of the particularly fascinating and well-studied cemetery at Wasperton, which was in continuous use by the local community from the late Roman period until the 7th century, and presented two costumed reconstructions based on particular graves; of a high status mid 6th century woman buried with elaborate brooches and textiles (grave 24; "The Woman from Wasperton") and an early 6th century man buried with a limited set of grave-goods including some typical pieces of warrior-gear (grave 91; "Wasperton 'Warrior'"). Compensating for limited survival by drawing on inferences from wider early Anglo-Saxon archaeology, better preserved items of clothing from adjacent periods and cultures, and iconography, these reconstructions provide the opportunity to come 'face-to-face' with individuals who lived in this region over 1400 years ago, and also provide the opportunity to see better preserved finds from these graves presented functioning and in context. These reconstructions have heavily relied upon insights from the thorough modern archaeological analysis of the cemetery of Wasperton, but other cemeteries along the Avon excavated in earlier times -- some yielding far more spectacular finds -- are much less well understood, having been haphazardly excavated and poorly recorded. 

We began this series by revisiting the fascinating site of Bidford-on-Avon; the historically most important crossing of the navigable river Avon, traversed by a Roman road linking the Fosse Way to the south, Watling Street and what would become the Mercian core of the Trent Valley to the north, this 'productive site' (Richards & Naylor, 2010) was perhaps a nexus for trade in the region in late antiquity and supported a prosperous and well-connected community, represented by a large cemetery of cremations and furnished burials on the north bank. This is the largest such cemetery in the region (Tompkins, 2019) but has suffered from piecemeal excavation and patchy reporting, beginning in the early 1920s, resulting in a hitherto incomplete understanding of the site, its national significance, and under-appreciation of the finds, many of which have never been placed on public display and remain obscure even to specialists.

​In 2014 we attempted to raise the profile of this cemetery by re-creating the then-obscure but quite remarkable decorated early 6th century shield from Bidford grave 182, the remains of which are now displayed at the Ad Gefrin centre in Wooler, Northumberland, and have worked with custodians of the 1920s finds from Bidford -- the Shakespeare Birthplace Trust — to make sense of some of the other finds. In the first instalment of this series (here) we discussed the Bidford-on-Avon cemetery and (due to improper record-keeping during the 1920s excavations) the tricky detective-work required to reconstruct the contents of one particular burial; grave 88. 

As the finale of this series, here we present a costume reconstruction of the lady from Bidford-on-Avon grave 88 based on this research, incorporating replicas of her accoutrements presented in context, and drawing on insights from related burials at Wasperton. The results of this project by team member Julia Ward, with contributions by Æd Thompson, early medieval jewellery specialist Andrew Mason, were (together with the previous two reconstructions) unveiled as part of a special event at Sutton Hoo in summer 2023.

​The cemetery was discovered during the cutting of the new road in 1921, when workers unearthed a number of disturbed Anglo-Saxon finds. This was followed by a more systematic excavation of the ‘gravel plateau’ 150 yards from the Roman road and 200 yards from the old ford (Humphreys et. al. 1923) in the summer of 1922, uncovering approx. 112 graves including around 80 inhumations and a not-precisely-recorded number of cremations. Further excavations in the summer of 1923 (Humphreys et. al. 1924) brought the total number of graves to 214; again, a mixture of inhumations and cremations. Most of the finds from these excavations ended up in the collections of the Shakespeare Birthplace Trust in Stratford-on-Avon. 

Although the 1920s excavators were confident they had found the limits of the cemetery, more burials emerged during development in 1971 necessitating multiple rescue excavations from 1971 to 1994, which for a long time went unpublished. The finds from these excavations are in the keeping of the Warwickshire County Council, with a small number of star items displayed at the Market Hall Museum in Warwick alongside some items from Wasperton.

Over all Bidford-on-Avon is the largest Anglo-Saxon cemetery in the region but badly suffers from its history of piecemeal excavation and patchy reporting. An effort to produce a unified report on the cemetery spearheaded by Tania Dickinson and MOLA’s Sue Hirst was announced in October 2012 and published in 2021 (Hirst & Dickinson, 2021). The divided responsibility for the finds (and lack of a local or regional centre for displaying such material) has led to these finds, together with those from neighbouring cemeteries, remaining mostly out of public view. 

With the possible exception of the spectacular Bidford-on-Avon 182 shield boss, the most eye-catching objects found at Bidford are the particularly diverse array of womens brooches, particularly those found during the 1920s excavations, but the practice at the time of grouping finds from cemeteries into types and discussing them as collections, in reports, without noting which objects were found together in graves, has challenged efforts to reconstruct burial assemblages and costumes. In particular it has hitherto not been known to which burial the spectacular, richly gilt great square-headed brooch from this cemetery belonged, nor which other dress items were found with it.    Through a lengthy process of deduction (discussed in more detail in chapter 1) we were able to associate this brooch with grave-88 (1922 excavation) from the north-east part of the cemetery, and identify which other objects were found with it.  

​Applied Brooches
In contrast to the flawless state of preservation of the great-square-headed brooch, the applied brooches which probably sat at the shoulders and pinned the woman's peplos-style dress were less well preserved, with both decorated foils, but only one brooch superstructure extant (Humphreys et. al. 1923).

​A form of saucer-brooch, applied brooches were soldered together from sheet metal and decorated with a die-impressed (pressblech) foil (Leahy, 2011) rather than cast (though to make things more confusing a rare 'Applied saucer brooch' subtype -- a hybrid in which a cast saucer is augmented by a partial foil insert — is known, for example from Beckford B, Worcestershire (Evison & Hill, 1996)). These were usually found at the shoulders (pinning the 'peplos style dress') and together with saucer brooches, in about 80% of undisturbed cases are found in matching or nearly-matching pairs (Dickinson, 2002).

Applied brooches were generally assembled from thin copper-alloy sheet, with a dish either beaten from one piece of formed by soldering a hoop of copper-alloy strip onto a backplate (Evison, 1973). The backplate was pierced with slots, through which pin-catches and hinges were inserted from the front, such that they would emerge neatly on the backs of the brooch, and these were soldered into place on the inside of the dish (in a way which would then be entirely hidden by the decorated foil insert). Although these brooches were predominantly held together by silvery-coloured (presumably tin or sometimes silver-based) soldering, traces of which tend to be visible on remains, mineralised organic traces (often leading to a strong contrast in colour between the obverse and reverse of applied brooch backplates) suggest that organic glues or pastes may have often played a role in fixing the decorative foil inserts, and further explain why foils and brooch backplates are so often found dissociated. 
The delicate nature of their construction together with the effects of bimetallic / galvanic corrosion (due to the association of the copper-alloys and the tin or silver-based solders) mean that applied brooches are usually very poorly preserved and consequently have attracted less attention and study than other brooch types, despite being far from rare *.

​* In the influential typology and chronological framework for early Anglo-Saxon grave-goods developed by Bayliss et. al. (2013), for example, applied brooches are disregarded as a distinct type and instead folded into BR2-a ('saucer brooch'); a subtype of BR2 (disc brooches), which also must include 'button brooches' (which despite superficial resemblance to cast saucer brooches are known to have a distinct distribution and different cultural affinities). In contrast the uncommon 'keystone disc brooch', a short-lived fashion of the late 6th century is afforded four subtypes within the typology (BR2-b1 to b4). The failure of this typology to grapple with the diversity of saucer brooches,  to distinguish button or applied brooches from cast saucers, or to differentiate the easily-distinguished decorative schemes described by Evison (1973) is a major shortcoming of this framework. 
The effective omission of applied brooches from this study may be justified by only a single example occurring across their sample of cemeteries, but this is arguably indicative of shortcomings in the representativeness of that sample to cemetery archaeology across all regions of lowland Britain, and consequently the validity of this typology and framework outside of regions represented in their sample. 

With applied brooches going under-studied in recent decades the most comprehensive discussion remains two papers by Vera Evison (1973) which described a wide range of examples from both the continent (which she attributed to the "Saxons, Franks and possibly Thuringians") and lowland Britain respectively, and it is this paper which is still cited by Portable Antiquities Scheme FLO's guidance as the main resource for interpreting these brooches (Geake & Webley, 2018). 

Evison (1973) regarded her British and continental sample (primarily from Lower Saxony, Germany,  along the Elbe and Rhine valleys, with an additional concentration in Friesland) as largely indistinguishable from each-other, except that English examples were more likely to have vertical rims formed of strip and soldered to form the saucer rather than raised from one piece as on the continent, and that a particular design of concentric circle decoration (likely in dialogue with similarly-made bracteates) common in the upper Elbe Valley in the 4th century then appeared not to have made it to Britain (but for which there are now a growing number of examples). 

​The overall similarity (with most styles of decoration seen on both sides of the North Sea) is suggestive of strong contacts between the regions where these brooches occur, possibly involving the trade of brooches and/or the movement of craftspeople who made them, such that no obvious divergence in styles between Britain and the continent occurred. Distribution in Evison's British sample is extremely widespread, from Hampshire to Yorkshire, though they were most common in the West Midlands (including the upper Thames Valley). With Evison (1973) regarding most styles of applied brooches' decoration as expressions of the 'Quoit Brooch Style' otherwise associated with 5th century 'Roman' military belt-sets it was speculated that brooch style was seeded into lowland Britain by the earliest phase of migration of 'Germanic' families liked to foederati; "The brooches must clearly be connected with the Germanic mercenaries invited to help defend Britain" (Evison, 1973). However, the notion that particular aspects of material culture can be used to infer population movement is now treated with more scepticism.  
​
Seemingly based largely on the discontinuation of occurrence of applied brooches on the continent by the mid 5th century, Evison argued that applied brooches in Britain likewise "must have been made in the 5th century" arguing that a later date-window which had been suggested was a consequence of an "ingrained habit" of dating nothing to the early 5th century due to the "mesmeric effect of the Chronicle invasion date" (Evison, 1973). It is likely to be Evison's earlier emphasis on a 5th century origin for most applied brooches (in contrast to most discussion of saucers) which has led to an erroneous impression that applied brooches predate cast saucer brooches. However, Evison appears to have herself amended the date-window she put forward for the manufacture of British applied brooches, dating those from Beckford, Worcestershire to the first half of the 6th century (Evison & Hill, 1996) and other authors have tended to ascribe a late 5th to early 6th century date for most applied brooches from cemeteries (Boyle, Jennings et. al. 2011; Carver et. al. 2009; Andrews, Last et al. 2019). In particular the 'colonisation' of the saucer brooch and applied brooch by Salin Style-I animal art spreading from Scandinavia, although likely to have begun by the end of the 5th century on the continent, in Britain only truly proliferated in the early 6th century, and so brooches featuring Salin Style-I (approximately half of the corpus, and noted to be overwhelmingly most well-represented in cemeteries at the western fringe of lowland Britain) most likely belong to the first half of the 6th century (Dickinson, 2003).

For the avoidance of doubt, at least in Britain, applied brooches appear to have coexisted with cast saucer brooches; they are found in similar contexts, from similar graves within the same cemeteries, most motifs and styles are represented across both brooch types, they have similar geographic distributions within Britain, and although (like cast saucer brooches) some subtypes involve an expression of Quoit-broooch style (Evison, 1978) or perhaps schemes derived from it, those featuring Salin Style-I decoration can usually be expected to belong to the 6th century. It would therefore be incorrect to regard applied brooches as an earlier or prototypical form of saucer brooch, or to regard cast saucer brooches as their successors. Instead they appear to represent two contemporaneous approaches for manufacturing dress fittings of essentially the same shape, decoration and function.  ​

It's tempting to imagine a single die being reused again and again to 'mass produce' applied brooches of identical design, but (beyond matching pairs in graves) no clusters of identically decorated brooches have been identified; each pair appears to have been bespoke. The 'applied brooch' approach therefore does not offer significant economies with respect to bronze-casting. Despite the poor state of preservation of many examples, their rich gilding, incorporation of silver or tin alloys, glass or garnet cabochons, and (particularly in the West Midlands) their occasionally very large size, caution us against treating applied brooches as poorer cousins of the cast saucer brooch, and although Dickinson (2003) has observed instances where applied brooch foils appear to more crudely ape designs of cast brooches from the same cemetery, At Broadway Hill, Worcestershire (Cook, 1956), Beckford, Worcestershire (Evison & Hill, 1996), and at Wasperton, Warwickshire (Carver et. al. 2009) elaborately decorated applied brooches were found among the grave-goods of the most lavishly furnished feminine 6th century burials, as appears to have been the case at Bidford-on-Avon.

​Rather than economy of manufacture then, we must look to its design to explain why the applied brooch coexisted with the more robust saucer, and was particularly favoured by high status women. Fabrication allows for a more delicate and sophisticated appearance than would be possible with (necessarily thicker / heavier) cast brooches, which might have been prized, but so too might the associations of the pressblech technique, which was otherwise used to produce bracteates (pendants aping Roman military medallions) and decoration for elite drinking vessels and helmets. At a time when cast copper-alloy dress items of various designs and qualities were commonplace, versions instead produced by more delicate techniques associated with the accoutrements of martial elites might likewise have been worn to communicate an individual's elite status.

As we discovered with the costume reconstruction of Wasperton g24 discussed in Chapter 2, the raised rim of saucer-shaped brooches (including cast saucers, applied, and button brooches) casts shadows which move across the decorated surface within, as the wearer's body moves, increasing the impression of depth in the relief and providing an enhanced glittering effect, but would also have served to provide some protection of the gold-plated decoration within the saucer against mechanical wear, such as from cloaks worn over them. This is demonstrated by the many instances of saucer brooches where gilding has survived on the decorated centre despite having partly worn off the outer rim. Applied brooches could be entirely gilded, or gilded only on their foils, with the superstructure allowed to tarnish providing a bichrome effect. In the case of Bidford grave 88 it is unclear whether the outer brooch was gilded. 

​At approx 65mm diameter, the Bidford-on-Avon g88 brooches are considerably larger than any in Evison (1973)'s sample, but approximately match that of the largest pair from Beckford, Worcestershire (Evison & Hill, 1996) and from Wasperton (Inhumation 85, Carver et. al. 2009). The particularly thick gilding (noted by Humphreys et. al. 1923) which these share with the great square-headed brooch has served to help preserve the decorative foils, which are of an uncommonly elaborate design featuring a notched outer border, central sunburst motif with a gem bezel at its centre, and an intricate frieze of Salin Style-I animals surrounding it. Importantly, idiosyncrasies present on the foils of both brooches indicate they were stamped from the same die. 
Both foils, but only one of the brooch superstructures is extant, with a flat back, sharply angled wall which nevertheless appears to be a continuous hoop and non-perpendicular to the backplate, so is likely to have been hammer-formed from the backplate rather than soldered on separately. Usually pin-hinges and catches were pierced through the backplate and soldered onto the front (in turn hidden by the foil) providing a neat appearance on both sides. Cabochon gems which once filled the bezels were not recovered, and although blue or green glass cabochons have been found in situ in central bezels of applied brooches from other sites (including Wasperton, below) Humphreys et. al. (1923) seemed confident they would've been garnet. Three cast saucer brooches from other burials at Bidford had garnet cabochons in their centre, with a larger oval cabochon garnet (presumed to be from an entirely disintegrated silver ring or pendant) found loose in one grave further evidencing the availability of these exotic gemstones for this community, at least half a century prior to conversion-period craze for garnet cloisonne. 

The almost perfect preservation of the foils of the Bidford-on-Avon grave 88 applied brooches (in contrast to almost all other examples of applied brooches) attributable to the especially thick gilding provides a unique opportunity for reconstruction, allowing us to see what this overlooked class of brooches would've looked like before 1500 years of decay took its toll.

Over all, once again, with this most lavishly furnished feminine burial at Bidford-on-Avon we see a juxtaposition of dress items with different regional (possibly cultural) affinities within lowland Britain, antecedents from different parts of Northern Europe and Scandinavia, and possibly different origins. The g88 great square-headed brooch -- a type most associated with nominally 'Anglian' regions in Britain --is especially Scandinavian in style and may actually be an import, or else made by a craftsperson of recent Scandinavian heritage, and might have been worn by this individual to visually communicate that they, their tribe or family had Scandinavian connections. On the other hand, the applied brooches worn at the shoulders, more associated with west / south-western lowland Britain belong to a style which developed in lower Saxony and Friesland and might be interpreted as communicating 'Saxon' heritage. Yet even these themselves show signs of identity transformation, with the decorative surfaces of these brooches which once would have borne decoration resembling sub-Roman jewellery now replaced by intricate Salin Style-I animal art again originating from Scandinavia. 
​
Ring
The first report (Humphreys et. al. 1923) lists a single ring (silver) in the contents of grave 88, worn on the right hand, and Grave 88 is one of two graves from which silver finger rings were recovered. From the other (grave 28), three spiral-rings formed from silver strip had been found adhering to various preserved finger-bones of the same hand. Unfortunately these are the only silver rings pictured and described. A bronze ring, and a small fragment of one (of twisted wire) are pictured and described, these appear to have come from graves 12 and 13 and so cannot be the grave 88 ring simply inconsistently recorded.  It therefore appears that the grave 88 ring was never described and so we can only guess its design. Rings are relatively uncommon finds from early Anglo-Saxon graves, and rings formed from coiled silver strip are represented elsewhere in the Avon Valley (for example three graves from Wasperton (Carver et. al. 2009) two of which also contained applied brooches). A correlation between rings of this type, and saucer (or applied) brooches has been observed (Boyle et. al. 2011). More elaborate variants of this simple design are also known, such as the example found during excavations of the Wendover cemetery in 2021 (unpublished). 

Additional Saucer Brooch
The problematic grave-contents table from Humphreys et. al. (1923) notes under additional contents that Grave 88 had '1 saucer brooch between the femora'. Although we considered the possibility that this was simply to note the unusual position of one of the applied brooches within the grave (perhaps having slipped down or been disturbed), in this table applied brooches and saucer brooches are carefully recorded as separate categories.

The 1923 report, documenting graves 1-112 plus finds haphazardly collected by labourers when the cemetery was initially discovered in 1921, records that five graves contained pairs of saucer brooches (graves 10, 35, 79, 82 and 90) with grave 21 containing a single saucer brooch; a total of eleven brooches. Meanwhile, its discussion of finds includes description of twelve saucer brooches (four matching pairs, and four of unique design). With one brooch too many, it seems more likely that the description from the grave catalogue is accurate; that grave 88 did contain a fourth brooch (of cast saucer type) found between the femora. At a depth (at excavation) of 3ft and not intercut by other burials it seems unlikely this brooch travelled to the position it was found from another grave as a result of disturbance. Why should a single saucer brooch be found between the legs?

In Kent, from the mid 6th century onwards, a shift to positioning brooches down the midline of the body, and their associated textile remains have been used to reconstruct a series of alternative (likely Frankish-inspired) costumes which gradually replaced the peplos-style dress and mantle (Walton-Rogers, 2007; Owen-Crocker, 2004) but, both within and beyond cemeteries in Kent, a number of peculiar cases have emerged where brooch position and associated textiles have evidenced unusual costume arrangements (Walton-Rogers, 2007). This includes the wearing of a bow-brooched 'Kentish Coat' over an annular-brooched peplos dress (Mill Hill g86), Compton Apple Down (Sussex) G14 where a pair of saucer brooches were worn at and below the waist with textile remains suggesting they clasped a Kentish coat, and Scorton g80 where annular and penannular brooches were worn in a vertical line down the body from lower chest to waist, again likely closing a coat, or deep keyhole-neckline gown (Walton-Rogers, 2007). 

Of particular relevance, however, are graves from early cemeteries at the western fringe of the nominally 'early Anglo-Saxon' furnished burial rite, where brooch types more typically associated with the peplos dress have been found in alternative positions on the body. These include Beckford B, Worcestershire, graves 38 and 89, where paired brooches (saucer and disc respectively) were found at neck and femur (Evison & Hill, 1996). From these Walton-Rogers (2007) tentatively suggested a fashion for clasping cloaks with two brooches in this region - perhaps reflecting a Brythonic fashion (which she compared to a depiction on a late Irish reliquary appearing to show the same; Walton-Rogers, 2007). Other tentative instances of a possible 'four brooch costume' worn by elite women in the 6th century Avon Valley -- both not formally published and instead only recorded in obscure grey literature — include;

• Bennetts Hill, Offenham, Grave 1. Disturbed but almost uniquely well furnished female burial from a very limited salvage excavation (Dalwood & Ratkai, 1998), where a huge necklace of no less than 371 amber and rock-crystal beads was found, together with a massive florid cruciform brooch (Leeds type V(I)) and three saucer brooches (comprised of a matching pair with stud-and-star design, and one with a zoomorphic design) among skeletal remains of a young female. Finds displayed at the Almonry Museum, Evesham. 
• Alveston Manor, Stratford-on-Avon, Grave 5. (Unpublished; Exc.1934). Burial of elderly female, with grave goods including finger rings, swag of beads, a pair of hybrid saucer brooches, bronze penannular brooch (Warwickshire County Council, 1999) and a massive jewelled great-square-headed brooch with garnets and recycled Roman intaglio. (Shakespeare Birthplace Trust collection, currently displayed at the Ad Gefrin Centre, Wooler, Northumberland). 

That the three most lavishly furnished 6th century womens burials (in terms of the impressiveness of great brooches, shoulder brooches and bead-sets) so far discovered in the Avon valley each happen to contain a small, fourth brooch seems more than coincidental, and appears to point to the existence of a distinctive 'four brooch costume' in this region comprised of a brooched peplos-style dress beneath a mantle or even coat fastened by a great brooch on the chest, and a smaller brooch below the waist. That this trend has not hitherto been recognised is a result of the obscurity of each of these burial assemblages, none of which have been formally published, and have (like so much archaeology from this area) been excluded from meta-analyses and reviews (Bayliss, Hines et. al. 2013; Geake 1997; Walton-Rogers 2007). 

With respect to Bidford-on-Avon it is not possible to determine which of the various unpaired saucer brooches recovered during the initial 1922 excavation and described by Humphreys et. al. (1923) was the fourth brooch from Grave 88. While we should not necessarily expect the fourth brooch to match the quality or style of the others, brooch 9d (Humphreys et. al. 1923, p102) is perhaps the most tempting candidate, bearing a central garnet setting matching the applied brooches, deeply carved Salin-style-1 decoration reflecting that of the other brooches, and again like them, being described in the report as particularly richly gilt. 
​

Buckles 
Humphreys et. al. (1923) records that Bidford-on-Avon grave 88 contained decayed remains of two bronze buckles, but these were not photographed or further described, so little can be said about their designs, except that, even in fragmentary state, if they had been at all elaborate they would not have escaped description in the report, so were most likely plain and utilitarian. One of these is likely to have belonged to a waist-belt / girdle, from which the knife is likely to have hung, and which could also have sometimes suspended other accessories (not found in this burial) including toiletry sets or a purse. The presence of a second buckle in a female burial is unusual and might represent the wearing of a buckle-fastened garment (see 'Textiles') represented in a number of other burials, including at Bidford. 
​

Beads
​As discussed in Chapter 1 while it has been possible to track down which specific brooches belonged to this burial, no such specificity was possible with respect to the bead set, as they had only been described by Humphreys et. al. (1923) as a collection, with some swags photographed but with the burials they belonged to not identified. The summary of grave contents records that Grave 88 was one of four graves (as of 1923) to contain swags of "amber, paste [polychrome glass], and glass" beads (Humphreys et. al. 1923). Those pictured and/or described in more detail which fit this specification, included large swags of semi-polished / irregular amber beads (Neilsen BE3; Bayliss et. al. 2013) interspersing small monochrome toroidal/doughnut and larger monochrome melon beads (Neilsen BE1-Melon) of green and ultramarine blue glass (likely of recycled Roman cullet), with the pictured polychrome beads featuring trailed guilloche (Neilsen BE1-Koch34) / dotted guilloche or 'eye' decoration (Neilsen BE-Dot34) - colours unrecorded- and in two cases, degraded pierced bronze discs (almost certainly adapted Roman coins, BE7-b). Together, these are largely associated with earlier phases for female assemblages within the Bayliss et. al. (2013) framework so consistent with a probable date for this burial in the first half of the 6th century.

Frustratingly the reports from the 1920s excavations make almost no mention of textile remains and it is likely that most which did survive were scrubbed from the metal dress items at or shortly after recovery, as was generally the practice at the time. With the many subsequent excavations of the wider Bidford-on-Avon cemetery throughout the latter half of the 20th century having not been published, it is difficult to track down any information concerning the sorts of textiles worn by this community. However, the invaluable 'Cloth and Clothing in Early Anglo-Saxon England' by Penelope Walton Rogers (2007) occasionally refers to otherwise unpublished analysis of textile traces from Bidford-on-Avon by the author, and earlier, by Elizabeth Crowfoot. A probable woolen shawl was clasped by a large pin, high on the chest of the so-called 'cunning woman' from Bidford-on-Avon grave HB2 which otherwise contained a simple small-long brooch and an odd array of small 'spangle' and 'bucket' amulets which appeared to have been embroidered onto a garment; an assemblage over all tentatively (but not conclusively) dateable to the mid or late 6th century (Dickinson, 1993). 

​Of particular relevance to this project however, while discussing the types of textiles (probable cloaks) clasped by elaborate great brooches, Walton-Rogers (2007) provides the example of a textile preserved on the back of the great square headed brooch from Bidford-on-Avon G13 (perhaps the one displayed at Warwick Market Hall Museum pictured above) -- a twill of naturally pigmented wool which would have been brown or grey in appearance (Walton-Rogers, 2007) which was compared to traces on the back of another great-square headed brooch from Wasperton (grave 43, Carver et. al. 2009 p84) where light and dark naturally pigmented yarns (possibly spun from goat hair) had been used to produce a contrast twill of overall grey colour. Though 6th century communities in lowland Britain certainly had access to dyes capable of producing bright colours (ideally on fine white wool from 'elite' Roman breed sheep) there is substantial evidence from burials that wools from Iron Age sheep -- coarser and more weatherproof but often naturally pigmented, and so less suitable for dyeing — continued to be used, and the occurrence of these on the backs of great brooches suggests these may have been favoured for outerwear even for wealthy individuals. 

Finally, Walton Rogers (2007) notes that traces of fine mammal-fur were found on an ornamented metal strip at the throat area of 'Bidford-on-Avon grave 4' (later excavations) likely to represent a buckled fur cape or cowl worn over the cloak, evidenced in various graves including Barrington B g110 (Cambridgeshire) and Scorton g80 & g112 (Yorkshire), depicted in an illustrated reconstruction of Scorton G31 (which also had a buckle at the neck possibly from such a garment). It is possible that the second fragmented copper-alloy buckle from Bidford-on-Avon grave 88 might likewise have belonged to such a garment. 
 
Although no further information is available concerning textile traces from burials at Bidford other finds from these graves and the surrounding area evidence this community's textile-working culture. They include bone needles, whorls from spindles used for hand-spinning of yarn, a bone 'netting needle' or beater, and a cylindrical box 2 inches in diameter by 2 inches in height was inferred to be a needle case, on which 'extremely fine fabric' had been preserved. (Humphreys et. al., 1923). Investigations of the area surrounding the cemetery have identified both earlier Romano-British, and early medieval post-built structures, along with ditches and animal enclosures, and with finds including sherds of Anglo-Saxon pottery, quern stones and clay loom weights indicating everyday activities associated with village life in this location (Richards & Naylor, 2010) which appears to have continued uninterrupted through late antiquity . Judging by the loom weights it seems that the classic 'Anglo-Saxon' warp-weighted loom had been used here, which lends itself well to producing tabby/plain weaves and 2/2 twills, but more unusual fabrics including 2/1 twills may also have been produced here, continuing Romano-British textile working, as was evidenced at Wasperton (Carver et. al. 2009). With the wealth and trade-connections of this community in the 6th century evidenced by the diversity of grave goods (at least equal to that of Wasperton) the textiles worn here should have been of at least similar quality and variation. 

With respect to grave 88, we can infer from the presence of the pair of applied brooches that a peplos-style dress was worn, which was most likely of finer twill wool -- perhaps patterned and/or dyed. This may have sometimes been worn over a sleeved gown / underdress* of finer wool or possibly (usually tabby) linen (Walton Rogers, 2007). On top of all of these garments a mantle of coarser wool (most likely naturally pigmented to be brown or grey, like Bidford g13 and Wasperton g43) was pinned by the great brooch. 

* In the absence of textile remains representing this, the wearing of the sleeved gown by women in this community is evidenced by the discovery of various designs of so-called 'Anglian' wrist clasps in graves at Bidford (Humpreys et. al. 1923 & 1924). The slightly mismatching pair (ie. four elements) from disc-brooch-bearing grave 103, are of the well-made Hines type B18, whereas sets uncovered in 1923 include type B7 (fabricated from thin bronze sheet), one piece (grave 200) of a the intricately cast type C type (bearing Style-I decoration mirroring that of the great-square-headed brooches) and another cast and gilt example bearing a stylised human face flanked by predatory birds (probably g187). While such clasps are usually only found in graves in nominally 'Anglian' regions (East Anglia, the North and Midlands) they occur in the Avon Valley alongside a wide diversity of dress items traditionally associated with both Anglian and Saxon identities and are therefore another example of how this cemetery blends features of cemetery archaeology from different cultural zones, indicating trade & possibly mixed heritage or affiliations of individuals in this community. 

Work began in spring 2020, during the first Coronavirus pandemic lockdown, with a full-scale model of the great square-headed brooch, and of the die needed for the applied brooch foils, hand-carved by Æd Thompson under the guidance of expert early-medieval jeweller and bronze caster Andrew Mason. These pieces were produced using the same process described in Chapter 2 (for a more thorough discussion of the process used to produce cast bronze jewellery in antiquity, and the process used to produce these replicas see Folk of the Avon Valley 2: The Woman from Wasperton). These 'masters' were passed to Andrew Mason who produced negative moulds, wax positives, added functional elements, and ​ultimately cast them in bronze using his own carefully honed process.

Æd meanwhile worked on the superstructures of the applied brooches. Discs of copper-alloy sheet were hammer-formed over a circular steel block of the correct size, producing smooth flat-bottomed dishes with integral, angled walls.  Three slots were cut into the backplates by drilling and filing, allowing the insertion of pin-catches and hinges protruding from the back of the brooches. These were fixed onto the front / inside of the dishes by silver-soldering. For these replicas the hinge was made with two brackets piercing the backplate and attaching to the hinge axle for additional stability - an approach which is evidenced on an example of a preserved applied brooch backplate from a cremation urn from the cemetery at Stapenhill, Burton-on-Trent, Staffordshire (Andrew Mason, personal comm.); this was a conscious choice made to improve durability of these replicas, deviating from the more common construction of applied brooches which involved a more fragile single-bracket hinge. 

Following casting of the great brooch and the foil die, both were carefully inspected for any casting imperfections, and cleaned up, primarily using abrasives and wire-brushes.   

To make the applied brooch foils, the die was placed onto a steel bench-block with decoration face-up, annealed copper foil was placed directly onto it, and a sheet of lead was placed directly on top. Hammering directly onto the lead sheet, being careful not to allow any of the layers to shift (which would cause 'ghosting' of the design), presses the foil onto the die, which picks up the design (Leahy, 2011). Interestingly lead residues have been identified on the reverse of some applied brooch foils suggesting that the complimentary-patterned lead sheet which results from this process might sometimes have been cut down and inserted as an interfacing material (to provide further support for the design) but this appears to be an uncommon feature (Evison, 1973). Lead sheet appears to provide the optimal combination of malleability and firmness for this process, but our experiments have shown that wet, thick veg-tan leather works reasonably effectively as a non-toxic alternative for demonstrations.
The resulting foils were cut to size, with the bezel for the central gem cut & further shaped using a sharp punch. All pieces; the brooch superstructures, foils, and gems, were then test-fitted together.​

It became clear at this stage that aspects of the design of these brooches (confirmed by examination of the original pieces) imposed certain constraints concerning the sequence of final assembly. The central gemstone — be it glass or garnet — almost certainly would not have been added until after all hot processes (soldering, gilding) were complete, as high temperatures would very likely damage the gem. The neatly domed bezel formed as a 'blister' in the original foil, likely thanks to a boss in the centre of the original die suggested that the central gem had probably been fitted from behind the foil prior to its fixation, rather than placed in from the front into a vertical-walled bezel subsequently clenched over, as a final step in the assembly. It thus follows that the fixation of the foil into place is likely to have been a low temperature process rather than soldering. 
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An earlier attempt with a prototype of these replicas, to solder a foil into an applied brooch resulted in the foil melting at the bezel. This is a consequence of the difficulty of bringing both foil and brooch to the same high temperature necessary for the solder to flow between the two, without the foil (of much lower thermal mass) becoming excessively hot and either oxidising or melting, which is made especially difficult as the design of the brooch naturally denies direct access to the contact-area between both parts. Heating entirely from below (thus avoiding direct heating of the foil and reducing risk of damage) brings other risks, particularly, the un-soldering of pin-catch, hinge and (in many cases) separately applied side-wall, destroying the brooch. It is possible that tin-based solders of much much lower temperature were used for this final stage of assembly, particularly on smaller applied brooches. However the difficulty of soldering a foil to a brooch of this size without causing damage, combined with the need to insert the central gem before final assembly, suggested to us that the foils of the original brooches are unlikely to have been fixed by soldering.
Instead it seemed more likely that the brooch superstructure had been soldered together, that and the foil insert were then gold-plated separately, and subsequently fixed together (with the gem added) using a glue / paste. Though weaker than solder, such a bond would be amply sufficient given the large surface area of contact, and that the edge of the foil insert which might otherwise begin to peel away, was tightly fitted and protected by the raised rim of the saucer. 

Both the great square-headed brooches and the applied brooches had been thickly gold-plated, almost certainly by ‘mercury-‘ / ‘fire-gilding’; a process in which an amalgam of gold and mercury is painted onto the surface, which is then fired, causing most of the mercury to evaporate (producing highly toxic fumes) leaving the gold bonded to the surface (Leahy, 2009). For safety we chose to send these replicas for gold-plating by a modern electrolytic process.

​Meanwhile, Julia focused her attention on recreating the clothing and other accessories suggested by the archaeology of this grave. 
As it was not possible to determine which (if any) of the necklaces described in the original report (Humphreys et. al. 1923) belonged to Bidford-on-Avon grave 88 it is not possible to reproduce it to the precision seen, for example, with Lindsey's recreation of the beads from Wasperton g24. Instead it was decided to produce a swag or necklace representing the sorts of beads found among these graves overall, and faithful to the general impression of the necklaces pictured and described in 1923.

Replicas of the polychrome glass beads featuring trailed guilloche and dotted guilloche / eye patterns were produced by historic bead expert Mike Poole / Tillerman Beads together with a small number of melon beads of clear, and pale transparent blue glass, and a handful of simple small ultramarine blue donut beads. 
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Faithfully representing the large quantities of semi-polished amber beads proved more of a challenge. Today, we predominantly see amber either sold inexpensively in the form of necklaces and bracelets of unpolished sharp chip / shards (a format not used historically) or else worked down into near perfectly regular round beads - closer to the style of beads popular in the Viking Age but also a poor fit for what we see in the 6th century Avon valley burials, where large pieces were worked into irregular, semi-rounded dice-like beads, striking a balance between efficient use of the material and striving for rich, glossy surfaces. Acquiring the sheer mass of amber necessary to faithfully represent the almost preposterously opulent necklaces seen at Bidford (and also in graves from Bennets Hill, Offenham) in the UK seemed nigh impossible.

In spring 2022, Julia found herself travelling to the Polish-Ukrainian border to help evacuate family following the Russian invasion of Ukraine. During the many weeks stranded, waiting for VISAs to be processed, assisting other displaced people and battling to get home, a side-quest for amber for this project provided a small comforting distraction; something positive and creative to cling to in the direst of circumstances. Prior to the war, Ukraine was a fast-growing producer of amber, typically exported via eastern Poland, and the amber swags procured for this impression during that time, for British-Ukranian Julia, represent something of her family's homeland brought to safer shores, and used to shed light on and share stories of our interconnected heritage. The war in Ukraine is rooted partly in a wish to deny, loot or otherwise destroy the distinctive heritage and culture of the Ukrainian people, evidenced not just by the rhetoric of the aggressors (Duben, 2023; Zygar, 2024) but the widespread sacking of cultural sites and of the nation's ancient treasures from museums since the onset of the war, on a scale almost unprecedented in modern times (Georgiou, 2023). It is all the more important, therefore, that we find ways to raise awareness of Ukraine's ancient heritage, in part using opportunities where there are connections and parallels in our more locally-focused work to raise awareness of heritage under-represented, suppressed or under threat. These items will therefore be used to tell stories not only of the cultural complex this article principally concerns, but also the trade and cultural connections across Europe they represent, the journey these modern items took, and the rich heritage in the land from which they originated which is currently threatened by cultural genocide.

The necklace as presented may appear ostentatious but is significantly scaled back compared to the examples from the more richly furnished graves from Bidford-on-Avon and elsewhere in the Avon Valley, but may be added to over time. 

As no traces or details survive of the fabric from which the grave 88 occupant's peplos-style dress (evidenced by the pair of applied brooches) was constructed it was decided to follow general themes from 6th century burials. A 2/2 broken diamond twill wool (of a type extremely common among traces of textiles from early Anglo-Saxon womens graves, Walton-Rogers 2007) was chosen, undyed, but with a contrast between warp and weft (white and grey, naturally pigmented) partly inspired by the fabric from Wasperton g43.  Many variations of the peplos-style dress are possible and consistent with the available evidence, including both narrower and wider tubes, and the wearing of the garment with or without a fold-down flap (Walton-Rogers, 2007). In this instance Julia chose to hand-sew the peplos into a continuous tube, cut extra wide to allow for additional draping, and extra long to allow for a fold-down flap (represented by a double-layer of the same fabric found on the backs, and sometimes pierced by the pins of, some brooches).

​The impression was first assembled and unveiled to crowds at a special event themed around exploring the lives, stories and archaeology of Anglo-Saxon women —  "Queens of the Gold Age" — at Sutton Hoo in August 2023. 

Recreating and wearing this costume has yielded a number of experimental insights. First, the faithful replicas of the applied brooches demonstrate that this overlooked form of brooch could be extremely impressive, providing a far more powerful visual expression of status and wealth than might have hitherto been appreciated given the extremely poor state of preservation in which they are typically found. The ingenious method in which they were constructed, with functional elements pierced through, fixed on the front, and with these fixings then covered and hidden from view by the decorative foil produces an illusion of having been made in one piece, despite being far more delicately constructed than would be possible by casting, with the backs of these brooches entirely smooth, like their cast counterparts, avoiding snagging or damage to fabrics on which they were pinned. 
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Despite their impressive appearance, however, like the saucer brooches in the previous costume reconstruction (Wasperton g24) it appears these brooches were often covered up and hidden from view by the mantle pinned by the great brooch, which by extension (like in the photographs above) probably were rarely visible being worn simultaneously. As suggested by Martin (2015) they thus imply the presentation of a different image — with focal dress items accentuating different parts of the body and through their design and affinities, sending different cultural signals — to different audiences; a 'public face', to be seen, for example, by the wider community while this noblewoman was outdoors, and a quite strongly contrasting presentation when the great brooch and mantle was removed, such as within a hall with her family and/or social peers.
In the case of Bidford-on-Avon grave 24 (and also grave 1, Bennets Hill, Offenham, discussed earlier) however, the contrast between the 'cloaked' and 'uncloaked' presentation is somewhat lessened by the presence of an additional saucer brooch most likely pinning the lower mantle, which thus carried the theme of the concealed saucer brooches onto the outside of the ensemble, and with it, any social signals those brooches were intended to convey. It is important to caveat, however, that all of these interpretations depend on the assumption that the arrangement of clothing and dress items seen in the furnished burial rite faithfully represents costume worn in life, and this is not always certain. 

What is more certain, is that both configurations of the costume represented in the burial are likely to have been seen by mourners during the burial rite. It would be difficult, clumsy, and undignified to attempt to lay an adult body in a grave with a cloak already fastened by a brooch otherwise swinging free, and ultimately resting haphazardly beneath the body, and indeed, this may be part of the reason why males in early Anglo-Saxon graves appear to have been buried not wearing cloaks, but with them instead spread out as grave liners (and thus preserved on non-dress items in the grave, like spears and shield handles). In the case of womens burials containing 'third brooches' then, the most likely sequence for the funeral rite involved the mantle being spread over the floor of the grave, the body laid out upon it with their indoor dress visible, and finally, the mantle being wrapped around the body and fastened with the remaining brooch (or brooches).  It is tempting to connect the fastening of the outer garment — a 'travelling cloak' -- around the deceased late in the sequence of the burial rite as preparing them for a journey to the beyond, mirroring the symbolism of the ship burial rite or perhaps even of contemporaneous horse-burial.  

As regards to the practicality of the arrangements we see in burials as a costume for the living, our experiments have shown that contrary to our expectations, the wearing of a heavy cloak over the top of saucer or applied brooches is perfectly comfortable, and does not cause their functional elements to dig into the shoulders as might be expected.  Further, it appears that the raised rim which defines saucer and applied brooches may have evolved to protect the decorated and gold-plated interior from wear from mantles or even coats worn over the top, as wools tend to stretch across the walls of the saucer like a drum-skin rather than abrading the decorated surface within.
That many applied brooches appear to have lacked gilding on their outer structure suggests the makers of these brooches anticipated wear to their outer surfaces. By not gold-plating the outer parts of the brooch, but only the protected interior, such brooches would maintain a consistent appearance for a longer period without the need for re-gilding. No such adaptations were made in anticipation of the wearing of gilding on great brooches (despite the heavily worn state of some examples from graves, including Wasperton g24) most likely due to the expectation that they would always be worn outermost on any costume. As these replica items continue to be worn it will be interesting to see whether patterns of inevitable wear highlighted by the loss of the thin layer of gilding and the tarnishing of the bronze beneath will reproduce those seen on extant finds.

Over all the image presented here (particularly due to lack of textile information from this cemetery) is broadly consistent with wider themes of early Anglo-Saxon dress, drawing on insights from the analysis of countless other graves from cemeteries mostly concentrated to the east and south, but the suite of dress items presented here are quite remarkable for their quality, sophistication and ostentation, challenging misconceptions about late antiquity / early medieval furnished burial archaeology from the West Midlands being relatively poor. Judging by the expensive items taken out of circulation in order to honour her at death, the individual from Bidford-on-Avon grave 88 was clearly someone greatly respected within their community, and was buried in a cemetery at the heart of a chain of interconnected communities which in turn, far from being peripheral to the 'Anglo-Saxon' cultural complex, or isolated by its inland location, sat at a crossroads between different cultural zones and fledgeling kingdoms. The exotic materials found in these cemeteries — including garnets, silver, gold and coloured glass — suggest far flung trade connections, while the great diversity of high quality dress-items are indicators of trade, cultural, and perhaps familial connections between the folk who inhabited this region, and many others both within Britain and elsewhere in Europe.

We would like to thank historic metalwork and Anglo-Saxon jewellery expert Andrew Mason for his guidance and help with making reproductions of the brooches from Wasperton. Without his expertise and patient help, spanning over three years, completing this project would not have been possible.

We would also like to thank Rosalyn Sklar, acting Head of Collections at the Shakespeare Birthplace Trust for helping us investigate a number of these finds and providing high quality images for us to study. 

In part 2 (here) we explored the cemetery at Wasperton – a rare case of a community cemetery in continuous use from the Roman to early medieval period – and presented a costume reconstruction based on one 6th century woman’s burial, with a particularly diverse array of jewellery and textiles which provide a compelling image of the interaction of different influences and fashions adopted by the folk who lived here at a ‘crossroads’ between cultures.

Although there are many early medieval cemeteries in this zone – some exhibiting a proportionally more impressive array of grave-goods – Wasperton is one of very few to have been excavated relatively recently and subject to modern analysis. Unlike with other cemeteries in the valley (many excavated in the early 20th century) the work at Wasperton sheds light on phases of burial tradition, bioarchaeology, and the invaluable insights into textiles and costume locked within the mineralised remains on the backs of metal items – the ‘mud’ which, in the earlier days of cemetery excavation would’ve been ignored and scrubbed away. Our choice of a high-status woman’s burial as a case-study is partly justified by the fact that it is these burials, with their impressive copper-alloy jewellery on which textile remains can be preserved, which provide the richest seam of information for costume more broadly. Lower-status burials, or burials from phases in which such elaborate grave-goods were not included, unfortunately yield little to no information with which costumes can be reconstructed, and it is for this reason that costume presentations skew towards high status, and towards phases with well-furnished burials.

Information concerning mens costume is also proportionally scarcer within these cemeteries, with mens dress including fewer metal items on which textiles can be preserved (Walton-Rogers, 2007). Setting aside the famous but highly atypical princely burials of the late 6th to 7th centuries, masculine grave-goods assemblages from furnished burials within cemeteries tend to have (and to some extent are defined by) an absence of anything which could be described as jewellery: the only common metal dress-item being a buckle at the waist, which even in putatively ‘high status’ / well-furnished burials can often be small, utilitarian and plain. The extremely limited textile remains tend to come from these buckles, only found at the waist, providing little evidence directly representing the form and construction of garments without reference to more complete examples of clothing from adjacent periods and cultures. Well-furnished male burials instead tend to stand out through the inclusion of non-costume-related objects – particularly weapons and shields – though represented primarily by degraded iron remains, these still typically appear superficially less impressive than the equivalent feminine assemblages. The true impressiveness of such items can only be revealed through deeper analysis (particularly via radiography and metallography) and visualised by reconstruction.
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Complimenting the costume reconstruction already presented based on Wasperton G24, here we present the results of team member Marc Smith’s project to represent another of the 242 burials from the same cemetery: grave 91. 

Grave 91 was situated in the northern part of the enclosure and slightly west of centre (context SG6) approximately 20m North-Northeast of the previously discussed Grave 24 and (unlike that burial) was oriented north-south. Immediately surrounded by a number of cremations, and overlying / sometimes intercutting pre-existing burials from the Roman phase, it appears that the cluster of north-south burials here with 6th century culturally ‘Anglo-Saxon’ grave goods represent the ‘takeover’ of this part of the cemetery by a group who were perhaps unaware of, or were not connected to folk which had been buried here in the previous centuries, in contrast to the more careful layout of graves in the southwestern part of the cemetery (Carver et. al. 2009).  
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Skeletal remains (not collected) from grave 91 indicated that the individual – at least 1.6m in height –had been placed on their back in the grave cut, which was a little over 2m long and 1m wide. Although parts of the skull, teeth and part of the pelvis did survive, the osteological sex of the individual was either not determined or not recorded, but the report interpreted them as “a man” based on the masculine nature of the grave-goods discussed below. Where biological sex of the occupant of a burial is identified (either by osteology or genetic analysis) it has become best-practice to record this separately to a burial’s gender (as expressed through grave-goods, Bayliss et. al. 2013) as, although both variables correspond expectedly in the overwhelming majority of cases, important exceptions do occur (for more on this, see here). In this case we cannot know the sex of the occupant although their grave-goods represent a masculine gender-expression, so for simplicity’s sake we will hereafter refer to this individual as a man.

Among the 91 ‘culturally Anglo-Saxon’ inhumations at Wasperton, 33 contained traditionally masculine assemblages of grave goods, and 11 were ‘ungendered’, among whom, many are likely to have also been men. Taken together the Anglo-Saxon phase therefore appears to have a relatively equal gender balance; we can guess that there were very approximately 40 male inhumations from the ‘Anglo-Saxon’ phase. 

The skeletal remains of the man from Grave 91 were not among the small sample which were subject to isotopic analysis, or radiocarbon dating, so it is not possible to comment on their geographic origin or to know when they lived except by reference to the items they were buried with, which are mostly of culturally ‘Anglo-Saxon’ type and dateable to the early 6th century. On the basis of these grave-goods, Carver et. al. (2009) assigned this burial roughly to their ‘Period 4’ – which immediately preceded the period to which our woman from Grave 24 belonged. Seriation of grave-goods in this period is quite vague, however, with periods substantially overlapping, and challenges in forming equivalences between the seriations of masculine and feminine grave-goods (which tend not to be found in the same graves). We can therefore say that it is likely – though not certain – that the man from Grave 91 died before the woman from Grave 24. These individuals probably both were alive at some point in the early 6th century and may well have known each other in life, though, buried in different parts of the cemetery and in different orientations they are unlikely to have been closely related. Broadly part of the same community, these differences in burial practices hint that they may have had different subcultural affiliation and/or heritage.

​ Aside from their associated fragments, only three grave-goods survive from Wasperton Grave 91 – a knife, a shield, and a spear, nevertheless representing one of the more well-furnished male burials from the cemetery. Each of these objects are represented by degraded iron remains with some organic remnants, but analysis of these items (together with similar objects from other burials in the cemetery) has provided a wealth of information on Anglo-Saxon smithcraft.
With only partial survival of the skeletal remains there is only limited scope for commenting on the relationship between any of these finds and the body. Nevertheless the stratigraphy of this relatively undisturbed grave provides some interesting clues concerning the sequence of burial (see later).

The Knife
Found at the waist, with length of 11.1cm, the knife (Evison type 1 / Bohner A) is a typical example of a modest all-purpose utility / eating knife common to both mens and womens burials. 64 burials at Wasperton contained such knives (59% of the 108 furnished inhumations, or 36% of the 177 inhumations excavated) with a further two found unstratified within the survey area.  The specific knife from Grave 91 was not among the six examples subject to metallographic analysis by David Starley (2006) but that work nevertheless sheds light on the quality of smithcraft seen among the Wasperton knives and can therefore help to inform our reconstruction of the items from Grave 91.
  
Of those examined, three were of poor quality, formed of piled iron with no additional steel edge, and likely made by reworking / recycling iron from different sources (Starley, 2006). The other three were of high quality, with two having piled-iron backs supplemented with a harder carbon steel edge butt-welded on; of these, one had been very well heat-treated to harden the edge. The remaining knife was made using an unusual steel-envelope technique, in which a triangular-section blade-core of piled iron had a flat piece of carbon steel added on both sides, meeting to form the blade edge, then heated, quenched and tempered. Across this sample there appears to be no clear correlation between knife quality and date, gender or burial wealth (Carver et. al. 2009). 

The knife from grave 91 bore no identifiable remains of handle or sheath, but all knives at Wasperton which did, featured handles of horn, and those bearing sheath-remains were of 1-2mm leather, which in two cases clearly had a double-layer at the blade edge (showing the sheath had been formed by folding around the back and securing at the blade-edge in the typical fashion) and in at least one case overlapped the base of the handle (Carver et. al. 2009). These remains though limited are entirely consistent with what’s understood to be the typical design for sheaths for early Anglo-Saxon knives (perhaps best represented by the better preserved small knife sheaths from Snape, Cameron (2000) and discussed <here>).  

The Shield 
Overlying the very limited remains of the head and upper part of the body were the remains of a shield. Represented by a largely intact iron boss (Dickinson Type 3) and iron grip reinforcer (Dickinson type 1a(i)) this shield had been placed over the head area of the burial, and also featured two iron board-disc fittings of approx. 2cm diameter, on which mineralised remains of wood were preserved. The boss – a common type of the early to mid 6th century features a low curving cone, overhanging carination, button apex, and three intact 6mm diameter flat disc rivet-heads (of an original five), and was approx. 17cm in diameter (Carver et. al. 2009). The flange of the boss bore mineralised remains of wood and leather on the back, and some textile traces on the front. Analysis of the wood revealed the board to have been made of planks of alder (one of the more common woods for early AS shield boards (Dickinson & Harke, 1992) arranged with a single grain direction.

​The remains showed an A1 type organic grip construction / joint, with the iron reinforcer showing both longitudinal wood grain, and wood grain (from the planks) perpendicular to it, at the rivets, suggesting lap-jointed-in (rather than continuous with the board) handle construction  (Carver et. al. 2009). Free length of rivets associated with the handle and boss complex was approx. 7mm; a measure of the thickness of the board at this point, which is broadly in keeping with thickness data for other early AS shields (Dickinson & Harke, 1992).

Based on the position of the board discs the shield cannot have been smaller than 42cm diameter  (Carver et. al. 2009), but was almost certainly larger (see discussion on estimating shield sizes<here>; Thompson, 2021) with a maximum possible diameter of around 68cm which appears to have been estimated based on the diameter of an (off-centre with the boss) soil-stain. The absolute maximum possible diameter based on the width of the grave cut would by around 80cm. Based on what can be determined from the remains this shield is, in all respects entirely typical and representative of shields from early to mid 6th century Anglo-Saxon graves. 

The spearhead of angular form with lozenge-shaped cross section and split socket, was assigned to Swanton’s Type H2 (Swanton, 1973), broadly dateable to the late 5th and 6th centuries (Carver et. al. 2009), though thought to have arrived in the Avon Valley during the early C6th. Mineralised wood remains in the socket were not among the sample identified to species, but spear-shaft remains from other graves at Wasperton were of hazel and ash (Carver et. al. 2009).   Among the 24 spearheads from graves at Wasperton, 8 were subjected to metallographic analysis (Starley, 2006); among these, most were of what is described as “low quality” – forged of relatively soft iron, some having received heat-treatments and work-hardening but not incorporating carbon steel (nb. Many of these are of a size that would better be regarded as javelins; Welton, 2018).

The spearhead from G91, however, was one of only three to show signs of higher quality smithcraft, and one of only two to feature welded-on steel edges. These were not merely butt-welded on, however, but inserted into the iron core of the blade – a far more technical approach which would’ve increased the durability of the blade but also prolonged the presence of a steel edge even with repeated resharpening. This spearhead was thus identified as of construction type 2b in Welton’s typology (Welton, 2018). It was further observed (Starley, 2006) that these panels had, within them had variable alloys folded together, which would have given a watery appearance to the edge of the blade. Starley (2006) described this spearhead as of “good quality composite construction with high carbon edges inserted into the low carbon body” and which had been “originally quenched to give hard edges that would retain a sharp edge” but noted that, rather like a number of other spearheads at Wasperton, the temper of the blade appeared to have been deliberately undone through long-term heating / annealing prior to burial: a ‘ritual killing’ activity perhaps intended to render the grave-goods less usable by anyone who might later seek to rob them. 

Assuming the spear had been placed into the grave intact (which is not always the case) it is likely to have been approximately 1.9m long. 

Clothing 
​Frustratingly this grave yielded no dress items – not even a buckle at the waist onto which clothing had been preserved, though it is conceivable that a small iron or even organic buckle might have been present but entirely decayed in the very acidic soil conditions which had dissolved almost all of the skeletal remains.  Mineralised remains of textile, however, were present on the back of the iron shield grip reinforcer which had lain on the head or possibly the upper chest (Carver et. al. 2009). This fabric was a relatively coarse 2/2 twill wool – entirely of Z spun yarns at a density of 8 threads per cm, in both the warp and weft directions; it was not well preserved enough to infer whether it was a patterned weave, nor its colour / whether it had been dyed. 2/2 twill wool is the quintessential fabric of early Anglo-Saxon burials (Walton-Rogers, 2007) – the classic product of the ‘Germanic’ warp-weighted loom, and similarly coarse twills have been identified on shields and spearheads from other weapon-bearing graves at Wasperton (Carver et. al. 2009). This combined with the textile’s relative coarseness, and the position of the remains over the head area, makes it overwhelmingly likely that these remains do not represent a tunic, but rather, a blanket or cloak that was likely spread over the body as a shroud prior to the placement of the shield and spear on top. It’s reasonable to infer that this textile is broadly representative of the kind of cloak which the deceased may have worn in life, and the practice for repurposing cloaks as grave-covers (rather than burying the dead wearing them) might partly explain the rarity of even rudimentary cloak fasteners – brooches or pins – in masculine-furnished burials (Walton-Rogers, 2007).   Nevertheless, given the limited remains representing clothing or dress-items, reconstruction of the appearance of this individual (see below) must necessarily rely on drawing insights from remains from other similar burials from this cemetery, better-preserved items of clothing and iconography from adjacent periods and cultures (Owen-Crocker, 2004). 
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Interpretation
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​It has been noted (Welton, 2018) that stratigraphy can provide important clues concerning burial sequence and significantly adjust our understanding of the rites, meaning or significance of particular grave goods – detail generally lost when graves are reduced to a list of grave-goods / a ‘burial assemblage’. In the case of Wasperton g91 the section-drawing shows that the spearhead was found slightly higher in the grave than the other finds and in a sloping orientation with its tip closer to the surface than its socket, having been at least partly propped up by the top edge of the grave-cut. Given the close proximity of the shield boss, slightly deeper in the grave, it is therefore very likely that the spear must have been placed in the grave after the shield, with the spear shaft overlapping the shield board, which in turn covered the head of the body. The spear thus appears to have been the last item to have been added to the grave.   We can likewise infer based on the presence of the 2/2 twill fabric on the back of the shield, that this grave-cover was spread over the body prior to the shield being placed in the grave.  
Together, then, we’re able to reconstruct a very basic sequence of events for this burial;

• First the grave was dug -2.2 x 0.98m, with steep sides, aligned north-south.
• The body was laid in the grave on its back, most probably dressed as in life, with a knife worn at the waist or else placed there following the laying-out of the body.
• A 2/2 twill wool fabric – possibly a repurposed cloak – was spread over the body hiding it from view.
• A shield was placed over the head area, on top of the fabric shroud.
• Finally, a spear was placed – alongside and in the same orientation as the body, partly overlapping the edge of the shield.  The grave was then infilled.

Grave-91 is one of 27 inhumations among the Anglo-Saxon phases of the Wasperton cemetery to contain a spear (or part of one), and one of 23 inhumations to contain part(s) of a shield. Taken together, 34 graves contained either a shield or a spear, and 15 contained both.
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Considering that, as already discussed, there are likely to have been 33-44 men among the Anglo-Saxon inhumations, the 34 graves containing evidence of shields or spears represents a remarkably high proportion. Notwithstanding the tautology of identifying gender through grave-goods (primarily shields and spears) then commenting on it, a majority of these graves contain at least one item of putative ‘military gear’, while approximately half of masculine-furnished burials contained both a shield and a spear.  This is all the more remarkable considering the near complete absence of grave goods which might be regarded as hallmarks of membership of a warrior elite, such as swords, elaborate shield decoration, or feasting gear. Indeed, the most impressive items among these burials (save for the shields and spearheads themselves) are two bronze-bound buckets, from G51 & G161; both of these graves had spears but no shield.  

It is important to add the caveat that we do not know why particular items were included in burials; precise practices, the layers of meaning placed upon them, and how tightly they were clung to or prioritised above worldly concerns likely varied between communities and certainly varied over time. Nevertheless, it is clear that, like many rural communities represented by early Anglo-Saxon cemeteries, the folk buried at Wasperton from the late 5th until the start of the 7th centuries engaged in a broadly shared but narrowly defined – even egalitarian- form of the weapon burial rite, perhaps expressing the deceased’s cultural affiliation, heritage and/or masculine identity, but using a quite limited array of grave-goods. No particular male burial assemblage stands out among the others.

It could be argued that this aspect of the male burials at Wasperton is simply the result of it not being the custom of this community to practice lavish furnished burial for men, though more lavishly furnished male burials have occurred in nearby cemeteries, and the diversity of items in female burials combined with isotopic data suggests this community was highly integrated into the wider region and beyond. Alternatively, the lack of more elaborate male burials could indicate relative poverty of this community, though again this fits uncomfortably with the quality of the grave goods in female burials and their diverse origins. Instead, or relatedly, we might infer that the character of the male burial assemblages represents a somewhat flattened male social hierarchy, with the community primarily composed of farming free-men, with no trace of a supra-local elite. If a supra-local warrior elite did rule here, they appear to have been buried elsewhere.
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Over all, then, it seems reasonable to interpret the individual buried in Grave 91 not as a member of an extraordinary supra-local warrior elite, but rather, an ordinary member of this local community, occupying a masculine role which (as symbolised by their burial with shield and spear) may have on rare occasion involved defending their family and/or community, but whose daily life was spent crafting, perhaps trading, but particularly, farming in this fertile Avon valley. ​

Like the Thorsberg tunic (and like textile remains from Wasperton; Carver et. al. 2009) the garment from Lendbreen had been made of 2/2 twill wool – specifically diamond-twill (also represented at Wasperton), and, importantly, the fabric of the sleeves contrasted with the body both in quality and colour (Vedeler & Hamarlund, 2017). This find establishes an important, clear precedent for garments in Migration-Age northern Europe to feature deliberately contrasting fabrics; a possibility which had only previously tentatively been suggested by the bizarre patchwork garment from Bernuthsfeld. 
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​Marc’s tunic in the style of the example from Lendbreen was produced by expert historic costumier Caleb Burch / Project Broadaxe, featuring a body of naturally grey undyed plainweave wool, with contrasting sleeves of diamond contrast-twill wool featuring sleeves dyed with bedstraw – a plant dye which, although capable of producing yellows, reds and oranges less effectively / efficiently than madder, is better represented among textiles from 6th century graves (Walton-Rogers, 2007). Marc’s tunic is worn over a pair of tight-fitting trousers again of undyed stone-colour plain-weave wool.
The fabrics here were chosen to be representative of textiles typical from 5-6th century burials from cemeteries including Wasperton, where tabby and 2/2 twill were standard and diamond-patterned 2/2 twill was common (Walton Rogers, 2007), sometimes fine, sometimes course, but mostly medium weight. Dyes have been mostly detected in small items such as head-coverings, bags and tablet-woven bands and natural fleece colours, brown, black and grey, were often used in full-size cloths (Walton-Rogers, 2018).
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On one of the coarser diamond twills from Wasperton grave 43 (indicated as goat hair), dense pigmentation was present in some of the fibres, indicating that the coat was originally black-and-white, although when mixed in the textile, the general impression would have been grey. It may be compared with a twill cloak made from naturally pigmented wool, grey or brown, in grave 13 at Bidford-on-Avon. (Crowfoot & Rogers, in Carver et. al. 2009). 
Taking some clues from this, and representing the coarse 2/2 twill wool fabric which had been used as a grave-cover and may well have been a repurposed cloak, Marc’s cloak is of coarse 2/2 diamond twill, woven with contrasting undyed but naturally pigmented yarns, based on better-preserved remains of the similarly 2/2 ZZ twill textile from Wasperton g43. Early Anglo-Saxon cloaks are believed to have typically been rectangular bolts of fabric ‘straight from the warp-weighted loom’ with natural selvedges, and warp-ends either hemmed or, as shown, tied into tassels or a short fringe, worn by men folded and affixed on one shoulder leaving the dominant-arm free. Direct evidence on which to base the size of early Anglo-Saxon cloaks is, however, lacking. Marc based the size of his cloak on the partially preserved examples from Vehnemoor and Thorsberg, North Germany, both of which are tentatively dated to the Roman Iron Age, estimated to have originally been 175 by 285cm, and 168 by 236cm respectively (Owen-Crocker, 2004). Like those examples, Marc's (between the two, at 162 by 242cm) is longer than any body and thus must have been worn folded in two, providing a double layer for extra warmth. 

As brooches tend not to be found in male Anglo-Saxon graves it is unclear how these cloaks were fixed; the late Roman Stilicho diptych shows a crossbow-brooch which (based on occurrence in some Romano-British male graves) at least among Romanised peoples in the 5th century does not seem to have been subject to any gender taboo.
Nevertheless the ‘Germanic’ bow-brooch styles which descend from them are exclusive to feminine burials, and seemingly emblematic of feminine dress and status.

 The scarcity of brooches pinning cloaks of men in middle to late Anglo-Saxon depictions is, likewise, suggestive of a gender-taboo concerning brooches having become established: by the 10th century even kings are seen being depicted with their cloaks – by then more sophisticated in their construction – being fixed with simple ties (Owen-Crocker, 2004). There are a number of exceptional cases where brooches have been found in early Anglo-Saxon ‘mens’ burials, the interpretation of which requires lengthy discussion (article forthcoming) but as no such object was present in this burial, Marc has chosen to pin his cloak using a wholly organic method evoking the description of much earlier ‘Germanic’ people by Tacitus (1st century CE) securing cloaks using ‘thorns’; a large pin of well-polished ox-horn, in turn prevented from slipping out by a simple loop of cord. 
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Although no remains of a belt were found in this grave the occupant is likely to have worn one in life similar to those found in Wasperton’s other burials containing similar assemblages of finds, so Marc’s tunic is cinched with a belt of veg-tan leather (by Marc himself) with a simple iron buckle with folded attachment plate (by Jason Green / Wieland Forge) resembling the buckle from related burial Wasperton g71. 
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Evidence for headwear for early Anglo-Saxon men is scarce, but includes, tentatively, textile remains within the 6th century helmet from Shorwell, Isle of Wight (tentatively perhaps representing a hat used to pad the helmet), and the sculpted clay figure on the 5-6th century cremation urn lid from Spong Hill, appearing to show a form of 'pillbox hat' otherwise represented by early medieval textile remains from sites including Leens, Netherlands (600-900 CE) and Hedeby / Haithabu, German/Danish border (c780 CE). Marc has made his hat in this style from undyed plain-weave wool.

Knife
From Marc’s belt hangs a replica of the knife from grave 91 produced by Anglo-Saxon blade expert and historic smith Andrew J. Welton. This knife, of Evison type 1 / Blakelock type B shape is 11.1cm long (including the tang) and had an estimated blade length of 7.1-2cm (when corrected for loss due to corrosion). As the metallurgy of the knife from g91 is not known, the replica blade’s structure reflects that of Wasperton g6 (Blakelock type 2) with a carbon-steel edge butt-welded onto a (in this case recycled antique) folded, wrought iron back.

​Based on organic remains on similar knives from other knives in the cemetery it has been reconstructed with a grip of green horn. The sheath of the knife was made by Marc from 1mm veg-tan in a manner consistent with the remains of knife-sheaths from other graves at Wasperton, formed around the blade and the root of the handle, and secured along the blade edge by tensioned running-stitching (after 6th century knife sheaths from Snape and Broomfield; Cameron, 2000) using the technique described by Thompson (2021b; link), and decorated with some rudimentary surface tooling (again based on the sheaths from Broomfield and Snape; Cameron, 2000). 

Shield
Marc began work on recreating the shield from Wasperton g91 in early 2023, with the goal of producing a practical and durable replica which would partially fill the niche (of a ‘classic’ 6th century shield) vacated by the retirement of the much loved but ill-fated replica of the shield from Bidford-on-Avon grave 33 (discussed here).  
A replica of the type-3 boss was produced by Jason Green / Wieland Forge, together with five disc-headed rivets.  

As this shield is intended for handling and durability its board has been produced using ply rather than the originals’ alder planked construction, and based on the available size data a diameter of 62cm was chosen, with a target thickness of 6mm (inclusive of all layers) identified from the free length of the boss rivets. Previous work by the Thegns has established that, despite its very different structure, birch plywood is of very similar density to the timber species known to have been used for early Anglo-Saxon shields, and so, if used at the appropriate thickness and properly worked, is a reasonable analogue for planked shields of evidenced timbers, at least in terms of weight / weight distribution, and therefore most handling characteristics. 

A board of 4mm thickness was used, tapered on the front face down to 1-2mm at the edge, which, with the addition of skin-product layers and glue, would give a maximal thickness of around 6mm at the boss. The hand hole was also cut at this stage and sanded smooth. ​

Lap joints were carved for the insertion of a wooden handle of type A1 which Marc carved from ash, in a manner resembling the extant examples from Nydam Mose. Holes for stitching were added around the thin board edge using a square-section awl. The 1a(i) iron grip reinforcer (Dickinson & Harke, 1992) based on remains from the grave was cut from 1mm steel sheet, filed to shape, and heat-blued to match the boss, then coated in hot beeswax to combat rusting. 

Based on insights from Warming (2022)’s analysis of skin product from shields bookending our period which showed both tanned, and untanned hide was sometimes used, Marc chose to use 1-1.2mm veg-tan leather (dyed to approximate the colour of more tannin-rich medieval leathers). The grip was glued into place with hide-glue, followed by the leather, on both the front and back. The grip reinforcer was then riveted into place, and the front and back leathers stitched together around the hand-hole (hiding the edges of the board, here) in a manner identified from shields from the 6th century cemetery at Tranmer House (Bullock, 2011). ​

The result is a faithful representation of a typical early-to-mid 6th century shield, 62cm diameter, no more than 6mm thick, and weighing approximately 2.1kg.   A replica of the spear from Wasperton g91 is forthcoming. ​

These projects have benefitted from the opportunities provided by the painstaking excavation and detailed analysis of the Wasperton cemetery detailed in Carver et. al. (2009). Wasperton is far from the only substantial cemetery in this region to have been excavated, containing burials which might allow us to figuratively come face-to-face with our distant predecessors, but unfortunately, it is one of a tiny minority to have been properly studied and reported. Many others were excavated prior to the advent of modern archaeology, others simply having never been written up, and all suffer from regional inequities concerning the effort of scholarship with regard to this period. Staggeringly few of the incredible early medieval archaeological finds from this zone – which if discovered today would be regarded as of international importance – have found their way to display in museums in the region, reinforcing the widely held but false perception even among specialists that the early medieval West Midlands is archaeologically poor. The institutional “neglect” of this region’s early medieval archaeology is greatly to the detriment of narratives concerning this critical period of history; of our understanding of the development of England, which is instead dominated by more simplistic narratives rooted in the history and archaeology of the east coast (Tompkins, 2017). 

We began this series by exploring one case-study cemetery where the flawed record-keeping of an excavation over a century ago, and piecemeal curation of their finds has severely challenged efforts to make sense of the archaeology in this region, and to bring it the attention it deserves. In the final part of this series, we will return to the enigmatic ‘productive site’ of Bidford-on-Avon with its spectacular finds, mostly scattered and forgotten, and, revealing replicas of finds never before put on public display, finally present the results of a multi-year effort to reconstruct and present an image of the enigmatic occupant of Bidford-on-Avon g88.
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The cemetery sat within the derelict Romano-British farming enclosure and contained 241 burials including a mixture of inhumations and cremations, remarkably stretching back to the 4th century – prior to the Roman withdrawal from Britain. Meticulous excavation, stratigraphy, and a set of carbon-dates from the cemetery allowed the archaeologists to establish a chronology for the burials, though radiocarbon dating is notoriously imprecise in late antiquity contexts, so must be treated with a degree of caution.  Throughout much of the cemetery, burials demonstrating different funerary practices and dates were intermingled, possibly suggesting the use of multigenerational family plots (Carver et. al. 2009). Though intermingled, burials of adjacent chronological phases were rarely cut into each other, suggesting a memory of where previous-generation burials had been, and thus, that the cemetery was indeed in continuous use and tending throughout the period, with no interruption.   The diversity of funerary rite here is therefore understood to mainly represent change of practices over time, and the archaeologists were able to identify as many as nine distinct phases. The most important are summarised below:

Oxygen and strontium isotope analysis (a relatively new technique at the time, with significant caveats and limitations) suggested individuals from the 4-5th century buried at Wasperton had a mixture of origins including locals, people from Western Britain, and some from the Mediterranean, hinting that the community was quite cosmopolitan at this time. 
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This phase was followed by a series of cremation burials – traditionally regarded as indicative of early ‘Anglian’ cultural practice – sited in the western half of the enclosure, in distinctly ‘Anglo-Saxon’ pottery urns, and mostly dateable to the late 5th to early 6th century. Exceptions are Cremation 20 – remains of a child carbon-dated (95% probability) to 220-430 CE (peak likelihood 350 CE) and Cremation 36 of an adult carbon dated (95% probability) to 250-430 (peak likelihood around 400 CE). The latter contained a fragment of a very early, scroll-patterned small equal-armed brooch compatible with this early date.

​Notwithstanding issues limiting the precision of radiocarbon-dating of remains from late antiquity, and peculiarities of cremated bone which might impact its accuracy, these dates are remarkably early, and might suggest a culturally ‘Anglian’ minority was already integrated in this community in inland central Roman Britain, practising its own distinctive funerary rites yet sharing the same cemetery a century or more before the traditional ‘start’ of the ‘Adventus Saxonum’ in the 5th century. Radiocarbon dating of skeletal and ‘unidentified’ remains from another Anglo-Saxon urn returned a date of multiple centuries BCE; the pre-Roman Iron Age and must be regarded as anomalous. For reasons we can only speculate about, cremation in traditionally ‘Anglian’ style urns became the predominant funerary rite at Wasperton by the end of the 5th century.

​An unusual aspect of these was a series of post-holes – the only ones within the cemetery, which in some cases may have been for a fence, but in many cases were dotted near the cremations and may have supported small structures over the cremations, or acted as grave-markers. As well as these posts two ‘sunken feature buildings’ were identified in the south-west, one falling within the cemetery itself, which was ‘spatially respected’ by graves throughout all phases. 
A few inhumations did continue in some parts of the cemetery, however, and into the 6th century these overtook cremation, and began increasingly to contain grave goods of a character mostly typical of Anglo-Saxon cemeteries, with masculine assemblages including shields and spears, feminine assemblages including brooches and beads, and both often containing objects associated with feasting, such as stave-bound buckets and pottery vessels.

​Curiously these burials often were lined with wooden planks or stones just as the earlier burials had been, which is uncommon among 6th century Anglo-Saxon burials, and suggests new fashions were merging with inherited, local traditions. The earlier finds amongst these graves appear to be culturally ‘Anglian’ but through the 6th century an increasing occurrence of dress-items (brooch types) associated with cemetery sites in the upper Thames valley and further south suggests a shift in political allegiance and/or trade connections in this region. However various aspects of the grave-goods were suggestive of continued Romano-British craft practice locally; isotopic analysis of human remains from these graves (again subject to significant caveats concerning precision) suggested a majority of individuals in these phases had been raised locally. 

​In the late 6th century burials occurred in a series of low burial mounds which surround the cemetery though it’s unclear if these were reusing prehistoric mounds, or were freshly constructed. They do, however, fit with a trend well established elsewhere, of a shift towards more ‘monumental’ burials for important individuals: female burials among these contained the most impressive sets of grave-goods.

A further, smaller number of burial-mounds were raised in the late 6th or 7th centuries, with a number of burials with very few grave-goods around the periphery of the cemetery possibly (but not conclusively) dateable to the early 7th century, after which, and for unknown reasons, three or more centuries of funerary rites on the site came to an end.

Over all then, Wasperton is a cemetery which defies simple characterisation. Among the western-most excavated early medieval cemeteries to express nominally ‘early Anglo-Saxon’ burial rites, it is far from wholly ‘Anglo-Saxon’ in character, with a continuum of burials from the Roman period through to the 7th century, and a wide range of burial rites expressed. Such diversity may partly represent the arrival of waves of newcomers (Hills, 2017) but also adaptation and change of a community with heritage stretching back to the Iron Age who first became ‘Romanised’ and then ‘Anglo-Saxonised’ over time (Hamerow, 2009). It has been argued that, rather than persisting ‘otherness’, the diversity of coexisting burial rites at Wasperton represents a process of ‘inclusion’ (Harland, 2017) perhaps rooted in persistence of the necessarily cosmopolitan ideology of outer late-Roman provinces. The isotopic evidence suggests the community was quite varied in the late Roman period, apparently and surprisingly integrating ‘Germanic’ elements as far back as the 4th century (Carver, 2009) and continuing to adapt to changing practices, fashions and identity, which comes into clearer focus thanks to grave-goods from the 6th century burials.  These were overall fairly typical, in terms of wealth expression, for a cemetery of this size, and (contrasting with other burial sites elsewhere in the valley) lacked signature items representing supra-local elites (with a lower-than-average rate of weapon-burial; Tompkins, 2017) suggesting this place only served a local , albeit well-connected community. Although the precise dating methodology has been criticised (Scull, 2009) over all these graves show us how fashions arriving from different regions intermingled with local, sometimes persisting Romano-British craft culture. We might interpret their burial assemblages / dress, therefore, as visually expressing a complex and fluid ‘Anglo-British’ identity with a distinctive local flair.

To explore and bring to life some of the themes emerging from this unusual but important archaeology, we embarked on a project to reconstruct the costume (at burial) of one specific woman who lived in the mid to late 6th century and was buried at Wasperton in what has been labelled Inhumation 24. 

Inhumation 24 was situated in the southwest corner of the cemetery (context SG2 – containing a highly diverse set of burials) immediately to the west of the sunken-feature-building (SFB1) and oriented east-west, among a number of Roman-period and unfurnished burials primarily oriented north-south. SG2 contained many of the burials, from each phase, to contain the highest level of burial provisions, possibly suggesting it was an area reserved for especially respected members of this community, or perhaps a long-used plot for a significant local family (Carver, 2009). 

Limited skeletal remains from inhumation 24 included a skull stain at the northwest corner, a leg bone to the east, and 20 tooth crowns which allowed for isotopic analysis. From examination of the bones and teeth it was determined that this individual was an adult, but with little sign of age-related pathology was deemed to have been relatively young at death, and both oxygen and strontium isotope analysis suggested she had grown up locally.  It was not possible to identify osteological sex from the skeletal remains, but the assemblage of dress items / grave goods was feminine in nature so we’ve taken to calling this individual our ‘Woman from Wasperton’.
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With the exception of a quite elaborate ~20cm diameter pot with stamped decoration, placed near the head, grave-goods from inhumation 24 were confined to dress items broadly consistent with nominally ‘Anglo-Saxon’ 6th century women's furnished burials, of quite high status, but importantly with substantial textile adhesions which provided valuable details regarding the clothing she was buried in, with some particularly unusual aspects.
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The selection of grave goods, particularly the elaborate third brooch (see later) single this individual out within the cemetery as someone of high status, though as the cemetery contains a wide variety of burial practices, we cannot assume she was more wealthy or important than all those buried with other rites. 

Saucer Brooches
A pair of gilded cast copper-alloy ‘saucer brooches’ with iron pins were found in typical positions, presumably having been worn on each shoulder. Pairs of small brooches are all but ubiquitous in undisturbed furnished ‘Anglo-Saxon’ 5-6th century burials owing to being essential to hold together the prevalent dress style of the period – a tubular gown or ‘peplos-style dress’ (Walton-Rogers, 2007; henceforth, ‘peplos’) and come in a wide variety of different types which may, to some extent, reflect cultural affiliations but also fashion trends.

​The cast saucer brooch is a fashion of the late 5th and 6th centuries and has traditionally been considered to be indicative of ‘Saxon’ cultural affiliation, though this increasingly seems too simplistic, as they do also occur (albeit more rarely) in cemeteries as far as East Anglia and Kent. They are, however, most commonly found in graves within cemeteries in the Upper Thames Valley region, and also here in the Avon valley / Severn basin (Dickinson, 2002). Portable Antiquities Scheme data supports the interpretation that these brooches were most fashionable among, and perhaps made by, the folk of the Upper Thames and Severn basins (Geake & Webley, 2018). They are significantly more common in the west of England than the East. Some featured Salin Style-I animal designs; others radiating or ‘floriate cross’ motifs, but running-spiral designs (harkening back to ‘Nydam style’ ornaments (Haseloff 1974) and late Roman metalwork, and usually featuring either five or seven spirals) were particularly popular (Dickinson, 2002). Such brooches vary in quality, suggesting they were widely manufactured and not the exclusive products of elite workshops. However, the pair in inhumation 24 were well made and richly gilded, with a deeply cast design of seven connected running spirals / scrolls arranged around a central, contoured boss, and with an outer toothed border (Carver et. al. 2009). Although quite common finds such brooches have rarely been replicated and worn: this project provides an opportunity, therefore, to make novel observations regarding their manufacture and design.  This brooch pair lacked any preserved textile adhesions on their backs or pins but their presence is enough for us to infer that this woman likely wore the typical 6th century peplos-style dress. Thankfully other items (see below) provided more textile clues.

Beads
Trailing down from the location of these brooches and presumably originally strung between them were an array of 63 amber beads, smoothed and polished, but of irregular shapes, including some discoid, some barrel-shaped, and some approximately sub-cubical. Although many familiar with early Anglo-Saxon burial archaeology will be aware of the fabulous coloured glass, and sometimes elaborately patterned beads often found in ‘Anglo-Saxon’ women's burials produced by lampwork, amber is often overlooked, yet appears to have been immensely popular for bead-swags in the Avon Valley. Such amber could be sourced more locally, but it occurred in such abundance in these graves that it seems likely much of it came from the Baltic, demonstrating the trade connections of this inland location. Among them was a single spherical bead of clear quartz – likely the heavy centrepiece of this necklace, which must have been a considerable challenge to drill.

The Great Square-Headed Brooch
The most eye-catching item from this burial, however, singled out as one of the cemetery’s ‘star finds’ was a large, gold-plated cast copper alloy ‘great square headed brooch’ – 15cm long – and ornamented with Salin Style I animal art. Elaborate ‘third brooches’ occur in a minority of furnished womens graves, usually found in positions suggesting they were worn centrally on the chest (Walton-Rogers 2007, Owen-Crocker 2004) and as their inclusion in a grave represented a significant sacrifice of wealth during the burial rite (as such items could otherwise be kept in use) their occurrence is taken to be an indicator that the grave occupant was an individual of high status. Great Square Headed brooches also occur in Scandinavia, and have a widespread distribution across lowland Britain, but Portable Antiquities Scheme data suggests they were most common in traditionally termed ‘Anglian’ regions including, particularly, Norfolk, Cambridgeshire and Lincolnshire.  

Four burials at Wasperton contained great-square headed brooches. The example from Inhumation 24 is uncommonly large, though another, from inhumation 43 and found damaged, may have been even larger. Typically, much of the decoration is given over to delineation / concentric borders which frame various fields, which are then infilled mostly with Salin-Style-I ‘animal-salad’ (Haseloff, 1974) – a superficially chaotic jumble of beast-heads, arms, claws, wings, and helmeted human faces combining in abstract designs, where aspects of 3D beasts are represented simultaneously from multiple perspectives rendered in 2D (Martin, 2020; Kristoffersen, & Pedersen, 2020);  ‘magic eye’ puzzle which rewards intensity of looking. Yet, again not unusually, there are some motifs which harken back to earlier styles – tiny running-spirals in crisply defined square cartouches which recall Nydam and Quoit-Brooch styles of the 5th century and earlier. And despite being distinct and regarded as having a distinct origin from the saucer and button-brooch types the discoid side-lobes, and the way they are decorated, could in a sense be viewed as being in discourse with them. 
The juxtaposition of shoulder brooches of a style with nominally ‘Saxon’ affinities together with a great-brooch with ‘Anglian’ or Scandinavian affinities might sound remarkable, but among high status women's burials from the 6th century this combination is quite frequently seen throughout the middle zone of lowland Britain. We cannot infer from this that these women were themselves of mixed ethnicity or heritage, as material finds cannot be used to trace ethnic identity. It does, however, seem reasonable to infer that these eclectic sets were chosen as a conspicuous expression of an individual, family, or community’s importance, in having widespread connections / contacts in different regions, and thus an ability to acquire the best distinctive jewellery which each had to offer. 
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It is worth noting that the great square-headed brooch from G24, though with mostly well-preserved gilding, showed heavy wear, particularly at the top corners of the headplate, suggesting this item had been worn regularly for many years before it was buried, appeared to be of a subtype more associated with the earlier 6th century, and may therefore have been an heirloom. The brooches offer the best hope of dating this particular burial, and it appears that the saucer brooches (dated by the Wasperton archaeologists to the latter half of the 6th century) were younger than the great square-headed brooch, though precisely dating either is fraught with difficulty. The highly technical Hines, Bayliss et. al. (2013) attempt at a unified typochronology and seriation of early Anglo-Saxon grave goods using a Bayesian statistical approach assigned all types of square-headed brooches, and all saucer brooches to phase AS-FB (510-585 CE, 95% probability, or or 525-575, 68% probability) which is rather unhelpfully broad. Nevertheless, the combination suggests that the woman in inhumation 24 died at some time in the second half of the 6th century (Carver et. al. 2009).
Great square-headed brooches vary quite widely in size and quality, but, somewhat in contrast to more ‘sculptural’ cruciform brooches their design provides large flat surfaces, which on the front are intricately decorated, and on the back, provide particularly broad areas for contact with the fabrics onto which they were pinned, which are sometimes therefore preserved (Walton-Rogers, 2007). 

The Textiles
The great-square headed brooch preserved two layers of particularly unusual textiles which represent two different garments worn by the occupant (Carver et. al. 2009).
The uppermost layer on the back of the brooch, representing the innermost garment worn by the individual, was a fine 2/2 ZZ diamond twill – a visually distinctive luxury weave seen quite commonly among textile remains from early Anglo-Saxon graves and a quintessential product of the ‘Germanic’ warp-weighted loom (Walton-Rogers, 2007). Unusually though, this was not wool but plant-fibre (most likely flax linen). While linen is also occasionally seen among textile remains from Anglo-Saxon graves, representing expensive fabrics, it is typically of ‘plain’ (aka. tabby) weave – the same weave pattern most often used for linens today. Twill weaves – and particularly, patterned twills such as diamond/lozenge – are rarely seen executed with linen, and suggest this was an especially expensive, luxurious fabric produced by a very skilled weaver. It’s likely that this fine patterned linen fabric was the flowing peplos dress which had been pinned by the saucer brooches (Carver et. al. 2009). A narrow band of 4-hole tabletweave – 12 warp cords wide, was also found in this layer and may have been the selvedge or trim of that dress, though was not well preserved enough for any pattern to be discernible: no dyes were identified. Although a patterned twill linen peplos may seem rather strange, compared to what we are accustomed to seeing from other Anglo-Saxon cemeteries, inhumation 24 was one of at least six womens burials at Wasperton to contain traces of dresses made of flax/hemp 2/2 twill (inhumations 13, 24, 43, 88, 111 and 167) of which at least three were diamond twills (Carver et al. 2009). It therefore seems that not only did the weavers which supplied this community unusually favour producing twill-woven (rather than tabby-woven) linen, but there may have been a particular local fashion for flowing peplos-dresses of fine linen rather than the more typical wool. 

Underneath the textile remains already described on the back of the brooch, and representing the outer garment, was another ZZ 2/2 twill, but this time un-patterned, and of wool. Wool 2/2 twills are among the most commonly found early Anglo-Saxon textiles (Walton-Rogers, 2007) but this particular example was singled out for having a soft-finished / napped / tasselled surface, resulting from a finishing process after weaving which distressed and ‘fuzzed’ or ‘felted’ the surface of the fabric (Carver et. al. 2009). This would have made the garment feel thicker, warmer, and more resistant to wind, though at the expense of added visual ‘roughness’ which would stand in strong contrast to the very smooth and precise patterns of the diamond twill dress beneath. This is rarely seen in Anglo-Saxon textiles and Penelope Walton Rogers (2007) has suggested that, along with unusual 2/1 twills seen in other graves at Wasperton, the soft-finishing process represented by this garment is an indicator of continuity of Romano-British textile working culture among this community. Pinned by the heavy great brooch sitting centrally on the chest, this textile is likely to have been a warm cloak that was worn over the dress. Although no dyes were identified, the wool cloak is much more likely to have been dyed than the linen, with plant-fibre textiles from early Anglo-Saxon graves almost never yielding dye traces. 

​​Work began in spring 2020, with full-scale models of the brooches hand-carved by Æd Thompson under the guidance of expert early-medieval jeweller and bronze caster Andrew Mason. Although the precise techniques and sequence for producing the wide variety of early Anglo-Saxon brooches are still debated, and likely varied between workshops and object types, it is overwhelmingly likely that the process for producing great square-headed brooches began with a ‘master’ model carved in a firm fine-grained material such as bone or lead (a number of examples of the latter have been found) which could then be used to produce a negative clay mould (Leahy 2011; Martin 2015).
​Additional details could be carved or pressed into this negative mould before baking them, and pouring molten bronze in. An alternative approach might use wax as the initial modelling material, around which a clay mould was formed, to receive either the bronze, or possibly molten lead to produce a secondary master to which further detail could be added, and from which another mould could be made which would then be used for casting with bronze (Martin, 2015).

For the masters for the three brooches a modern polymer modelling material was used in place of bone or lead, with intricate details hand-carved, primarily using a glover’s needle set into a wooden handle, allowing for very sharp details and a high degree of precision. It was found during this process that the feasible depth of decoration on the great square-headed brooches was limited by the ability to press the tool into the surface with the requisite combination of force and precision. In contrast, though, the flowing lines of the seven-spiral saucer brooches allowed for a greater depth of carving, as typically seen on the originals, to be achieved with relative ease.
These models were handed to specialist bronze-caster Andrew Mason who produced negative moulds from them, adding pin-hinges and retaining hooks to the backs, and ultimately cast them in bronze using his own carefully honed process.

​​The original brooches were gold-plated by ‘mercury-‘ / ‘fire-gilding’; a process in which an amalgam of gold and mercury is painted onto the surface, which is then fired, causing most of the mercury to evaporate (producing highly toxic fumes) leaving the gold bonded to the surface (Leahy, 2009). For safety we chose to send these replicas for gold-plating by a modern electrolytic process.
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Meanwhile Lindsey began work on the clothing and beads. Nuggets of Baltic amber of various suitable sizes were acquired and laboriously hand-shaped with abrasives to match the 63 amber beads from the burial in terms of size and shape, and carefully drilled. 

​Although the original colours of the amber from this necklace is not known, and amber does change and degrade somewhat in grave contexts, other amber necklaces from the Avon Valley in museum displays show a wide variety of shades, generally on the darker side of the spectrum, so a rich mixture of mid-to-dark amber shades was used. These were combined with a carefully drilled spherical bead of rock-crystal.  In Anglo-Saxon graves beads are usually found loose, with the cord having rotted away, such that reconstructing their arrangements can involve considerable guesswork. In this case, however, the larger quartz bead is so heavy compared to the others that it necessarily must have been the centrepiece of the swag, and the amber was likely arranged to diminish in size with increased distance from the centre. Similar swags (with small beads and a single much larger centrepiece) were found in graves 4 and 77. 

The dress was constructed from a wide rectangle of fine, white diamond twill linen. Linen remains from early Anglo-Saxon burials almost never yield dye traces and this was no exception. Although linen was likely very often used in its natural greyish brown / taupe colour, it could be bleached to a range of pale colours up to and including white, by heating with a dilute alkali such as wood-ash and then exposing it to the sun; a process described by Pliny the Elder as having been practised in Classical Era Britain and Gaul. Penelope Walton Rogers (2007) notes that many of the ZZ linen twills she has encountered from early Anglo-Saxon burials appeared to have been bleached white, and so Lindsey chose to represent this with the reconstruction of the dress from Wasperton g24. In the grubby environment of early medieval settlements bright white garments would have been at least as eye-catching as any colourfully dyed clothing, and the effort required to keep such garments clean would’ve meant their appearance likely served as a strong advertisement of social status. The flexibility of diamond twill linen of this thread count lends itself to flowing draping, so Lindsey chose to construct the peplos relatively wide – approx. elbow-to-elbow in width, which would gather into delicate pleats when belted.  
​As the early Anglo-Saxon peplos-style dress is inferred from adhesions on metal dress items we do not have direct archaeological evidence of the sides of the garment. However based on preserved tubular garments from the 'Germanic' Iron Age it seems likely that the dress was sewn into a complete tube. Lindsey chose to sew the garment with a backstitch, then fell the edges to prevent fraying. This technique is evidenced by textile remains from Sutton Hoo Mound 5 (run-and-fell seam on linen), 10th century linen remains from York, and remains of a (related) rolled-hem from Mucking grave 964.

As only a single layer was found, from the dress, on the back of the brooch, it’s likely that the dress was worn without a fold-down flap, though such a flap could be added to the dress simply by re-pinning it, bringing the hemline higher on the leg, but with no material change to the garment itself.

​To represent the tabletweave found associated with the fine plant-fibre diamond twill dress, of unknown fibre but noted to be ‘coarser’ than the plant-fibre textile beneath it, we chose to use a fine 20/2 NM wool which had been dyed by Æd with home-grown woad.  An initial attempt was made to tablet weave this precisely as described in the archaeological report, with all 12 tablets (each threaded with four threads) S-threaded to produce cables all twisting in the same direction (Carver et. al. 2009), but this was found to cause an over-all twist in the weave to quickly build up, which would have made continued weaving impossible, with the product contorting upon itself and becoming wholly unusable. ​

 It is worth noting that the preserved piece had only eight weft-passes, so approx. 1-2cm of the original band, and therefore might not be representative of the band’s entire length. We therefore chose to switch to an alternating S and Z twisting weave, with reversals serving to counteract the accumulation of weave twist / tension. The completed band was sewn at the top edge of the front of the peplos. 
Other than a single leg-bone no finds or remains were found in this grave to the east, i.e. lower on the body than the lower chest, likely due to partial disturbance of the grave, and no belt buckle was recovered (Carver et. al. 2009). It is possible that the woman in inhumation 24 had a wholly tied sash in place of a belt, or a belt with an organic buckle leaving no trace, but it is at least equally plausible that remains of a more typical belt have been obliterated by disturbance. For this reason, we chose to present this impression with a simple belt of veg-tan leather with a simple iron loop buckle similar to those from feminine burials g80 and 81.  Although no direct evidence of it was found in this burial there is abundant evidence from other womens burials, including at Wasperton, that women commonly wore a sleeved gown of linen or fine wool beneath the peplos (Owen-Crocker, 2004) so Lindsey is shown below modelling the outfit with an under-dress of natural taupe / unbleached tabby-woven linen. Layered gowns and overdresses of broadly this design would ultimately replace the peplos entirely as the predominant outfit for women in lowland Britain during the late 6th and 7th centuries (Walton-Rogers, 2007). 
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The cloak was made from a piece of heavy 2/2 straight twill wool. Wool has a much greater affinity for dyes, increasing the likelihood of dye traces surviving for detection in archaeological remains (Walton-Rogers, 2007), but no dye traces were identified in this case. The wool from G.24 was also not mentioned as one of the wools showing natural pigmentation (ie. from a grey or brown sheep), but similar ZZ 2/2 twills from cemeteries at Snape (Suffolk) and Mucking (Essex) were dyed brown using tannin-based dyes, which are generally extremely difficult to distinguish from the tannins which naturally occur in soils (Walton Rogers, 2007) and tend to saturate textile remains in many contexts, so cases of tannin-dyeing might often be missed. 

It’s further not currently possible to distinguish or identify different tannin dye sources. With a tannin-dye therefore being a possibility for this cloak, Lindsey chose to first mordant it with potash alum, and then dye it with a mixture of oak-gall and walnut husks - two rich tannin sources known to have been available in the period.  The result was a quite neutral dun brown which compliments, without distracting from the dress fittings. 

​The completed impression was first assembled and unveiled to crowds at a special event themed around exploring the lives, stories and archaeology of Anglo-Saxon women -  "Queens of the Gold Age" - at Sutton Hoo in August 2023.

​Together this impression might appear quite unlike the images of early Anglo-Saxon dress we are used to seeing. In particular the bright white peplos of fine, flowing diamond twill linen appears quite evocative of Roman and even Ancient Greek dress – from which the peplos originated – as represented in Classical Era statuary (Walton-Rogers, 2007). Such dress styles were extremely archaic by the 6th century, contrasting strongly with the dress styles of the contemporary Roman world. But it is perhaps fitting that this aesthetic harkening back to Ancient Rome might persist on the periphery of what had been the Roman world, in a community with apparently unbroken continuity from the Roman to early medieval period, and which (judging by other aspects of their archaeology) held a fascination with the ancient world. 
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The suite of jewellery – both brooches and beads demonstrate the trade and cultural connections of this region, mixing styles and making use of materials with diverse origins, and also demonstrate how visually impressive the personal artworks found in early Anglo-Saxon graves often were. This project has also provided an opportunity to gain insights about how these items functioned, or explaining features of their design. In particular, seeing richly gilt saucer brooches worn has emphasised how the defining feature of this historically popular brooch type – the raised rim – serves to cast shadows on the interior which move along with movement of the body, in a way which enhances contrast (and thus effective visual depth) and sparkle of the interior decoration. The deeply cut running-spiral design itself implies movement, and becomes far more visually impactful on a moving body, where shadows cast by the rim continually dance across the surface giving the impression of breaking waves. This is an insight which cannot be gained by viewing such objects in museum cases under static lighting.
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With such brooches occurring more often in the graves of mature women, it might be that acquisition of the great brooch and cloak represented a shift in modesty norms at particular life-stages. Yet the elaborate shoulder brooches and beads continued to be worn, suggesting that, rather like an ancient Roman matron covering her hair with a palla when out in public, such dress norms were situational. As such we might imagine a 6th century noblewoman wearing a cloak and carefully chosen great-brooch to present a particular image, outdoors in ‘public’, which was then unfastened and set aside when she was among her peers within a great-hall, where an entirely different bodily presentation and suite of jewellery would be seen. This would have implications for the cultural or political signals, if any, represented by different brooch types, with different brooches in the costume arrangement concealed at different times, and intended to be seen by different audiences.​

All of this is highly speculative, and although the heavy wear seen on all brooches in many contexts indicates that these objects saw every-day use, we can’t necessarily assume that their arrangements in graves are perfectly representative of how they were worn in life. A basic but important question worth asking in relation to this, is whether wearing a heavy cloak directly on top of a pair of shoulder brooches is at all comfortable or practical. While annular and penannular brooches lie flat when worn, integrating smoothly with the fabric they pin such that no element ‘digs in’ to the shoulders, all other early Anglo-Saxon brooches feature functional elements (pin hinges and catch plates, and the pin itself) projecting from the back of the brooch (Geake & Webley, 2018), which would press into the body if any pressure (such as from a heavy cloak worn on top) was applied to the brooch’s face, which in the case of disc or saucer brooches are effectively large round pressure-plates. We can report, however, that the wearing of the heavy cloak and cloak-brooch over the top of the saucer brooches is comfortable, and therefore that the layered arrangement implied by the burial archaeology represents a practical ‘living’ costume. 

The images presented here represent the appearance of just one individual who died and was buried a little over 1500 years ago in a long-used community cemetery in the Warwickshire Avon valley, in the heart of lowland Britain. Part of a phase where individuals were being buried with the quintessential 'early Anglo-Saxon' furnished burial rite, she was of local upbringing and heritage; her grave goods were at once typically 'Anglo-Saxon' yet juxtaposed items with different regional affinities if not origins, reflecting connectedness to other parts of lowland Britain - of either her directly, or her community. Her costume also reflected contemporary Anglo-Saxon fashions, with ancient origins, yet was put together with fine and somewhat unusual fabrics displaying continuity of Romano-British textile working practice and a peculiar, locally distinctive aesthetic perhaps seeking to emulate the aesthetics of an earlier age.  Over all, she reflects the complexities of the cemetery as a whole, and of this community which lived at the intersection between multiple regional identities, between territory traditionally demarcated as 'British'/'Welsh' and 'Anglo-Saxon', between what would later become Wessex and Mercia, but also at the blurry intersection between antiquity and the medieval period. ​

While feminine sets of grave-goods in furnished burials can provide a rich seam of evidence from which the appearance of women can be reconstructed, as the typical male costume represented in furnished burials tended to include fewer metal dress fittings on which textiles could be preserved, evidence for reconstructing male dress is more scarce, requiring greater reliance on comparanda exotic to the period and/or region to fill in evidentiary gaps, but also a greater focus on significant equipment / grave goods other than dress items, in which aspects of masculine identity were predominantly expressed. In the next chapter we will present a reconstruction of an individual from a male-gendered burial from the same cemetery, who, also buried in the 6th century was likely known to the lady we have already discussed. This impression presents the opportunity to explore the particular challenges of reconstructing masculine assemblages, but also provides a window into other aspects of craftsmanship and material culture. 
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We would like to thank historic metalwork and Anglo-Saxon jewellery expert Andrew Mason for his guidance and help with making reproductions of the brooches from Wasperton. Without his expertise and patient help, spanning over three years, completing this project would not have been possible.

Carver, M., Hills, C. and Scheschkewitz, J., 2009. Wasperton: a Roman, British and Anglo-Saxon community in central England.

Dickinson, T.M., 2002. Translating animal art: Salin’s Style I and Anglo-Saxon cast saucer brooches. Hikuin, pp.163-186.

Geake, H., Webley R. 2018. Finds Recording Guides: Brooches. Portable Antiquities Scheme [Online] [Url= https://finds.org.uk/counties/findsrecordingguides/brooches-2/] Accessed 11/10/2023

Hamerow. H., 2009. Review. Wasperton. A Roman, British and Anglo-Saxon Community in Central England. By Martin Carver, Catherine Hills, and Jonathan Scheschkewitz, Archaeological Journal, 166:1, 251.

Harland, J.M., 2017. Rethinking Ethnicity and› Otherness‹ in Early Anglo-Saxon England.

Hills, C., 2017. The Anglo-Saxon migration to Britain: an archaeological perspective. Migration and Integration from Prehistory to the Middle Ages, Landesmuseum of Prehistory, Halle, Germany, pp.239-254.

Kristoffersen, E.S. and Pedersen, U., 2020. Changing perspectives in southwest Norwegian Style I. Barbaric Splendour, p.47.

Leahy, K., 2011. Anglo-Saxon Crafts. The Oxford Handbook of Anglo-Saxon Archaeology, pp.440-59.

Martin, T.F., 2015. The Cruciform Brooch and Anglo-Saxon England (Vol. 25). Boydell & Brewer Ltd.

Martin, T.F., 2020. Barbaric tendencies? Iron Age and early medieval art in comparison. Barbaric Splendour, p.1.

Owen-Crocker, G.R., 2004. Dress in Anglo-Saxon England. Boydell Press

Scull, C., 2009. Review: Wasperton. A Roman, British and Anglo-Saxon Community in Central England By Martin Carver, Catherine Hills, and Jonathan Scheschkewitz. Antiquity, Volume 83, Issue 322, December 2009 , pp. 1209 – 1211. 

Tompkins, A., 2017. The Avon Valley in the fifth to mid-seventh centuries: contacts and coalescence in a frontier polity? (Doctoral dissertation, University of Oxford).
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Walton-Rogers, P., 2007. Cloth and clothing in early Anglo-Saxon England, AD 450-700.

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​Though widely regarded as poor in early Anglo-Saxon (5-7th century) cemetery material, the West Midlands is home to some spectacular cemetery finds, most of which, excavated prior to modern archaeology and not on public display, remain obscure even to specialists.

Many of these finds originate from a chain of community burial sites along the river Avon in the south Midlands (Warwickshire & Worcestershire). Situated between the territory of what would later emerge as the kingdoms of Mercia and Wessex, the people buried here in the 5-6th century belonged to neither, yet are enmeshed in the origins of both. This community was also sandwiched between conclusively 'Anglian' territory and the Welsh Kingdoms, so might better be termed 'Anglo-British' than 'Anglo-Saxon', with clear signs of local Romano-British continuity intermingling with migration and change. Living in a 'transport triangle' criss-crossed by Roman-roads and navigable rivers, this community arguably provides the perfect case-study for engaging with the complexity of ethnogenesis / identity formation, and transformation, from late antiquity into the early medieval period in lowland Britain. 
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In recent years we have undertaken a long-running project to re-create some of these treasures, to raise awareness of these amazing finds hitherto not on public display, and in particular, to reconstruct the image of a series of individuals from this 6th century community, based on the archaeology of specific burials, providing an opportunity to come 'face-to-face' with the folk who lived in the heart of what is now England, at the crossroads of kingdoms, 1500 years ago.

These reconstructions were unveiled at a series of public events at Sutton Hoo (National Trust) in summer 2023.

The West Midlands is widely regarded as relatively poor in early Anglo-Saxon archaeology, partly due to its nature as a putative hinterland or marginal zone of Anglo-Saxon settlement in the 5-6th century, highly variable burial practices, and regional inequities in archaeological investigation effort. In particular early Anglo-Saxon archaeology in the West Midlands appears to have suffered particularly badly from a ‘goldrush’ in the 19th to early 20th century which saw many of its greatest archaeological sites haphazardly excavated by antiquarians, poorly documented, and with finds not finding their way to museum display.    The effective ‘re-burial’ of c5-7th archaeology in the West Midlands in archives, vaults and private collections, arguably negatively impacts our understanding of the period as a whole, for this zone in the very heart of the island of Great Britain, containing within it many of the most significant crossroads of the Roman road network and at the interface between nominally ‘Anglo-Saxon’ and ‘British/Welsh’ territories, arguably has the greatest potential for shedding light on the complex interactions between identity groups at different scales and the emergence of new kingdoms. 

Since the Thegns of Mercia was founded in 2012 we have invested significant time and resources in promoting forgotten finds from the Midlands. Most famously in 2018 we unveiled a radical new interpretation of the Benty Grange Helmet from Derbyshire, excavated in 1848, and, earlier, the uniquely decorated shield from Bidford-on-Avon grave 182 (excavated in 1923) – the second most elaborate shield in Anglo-Saxon archaeology - the remains of which, in the keeping of the Shakespeare Birthplace Trust, had at that time not been on public display for generations. We have also raised awareness of the piecemeal-excavated cemetery at Alveston Manor, Stratford-on-Avon and particularly its highest status burial of a lady who died around 600 CE whom we dubbed “The Alveston Manor Queen” – buried with a great-square-headed brooch which remains the largest and most elaborate of its kind in the entire archaeological record.
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These belong to a chain of cemeteries along the Warwickshire Avon valley which begins around Coventry (the Bagington cemetery beside Lunt Roman fort, beside the junction of Watling Street and the Fosse Way), runs southwest past the Longbridge cemetery, the peculiar ritual site of Blacklow Hill, the large community cemetery of Wasperton, the great hall complex at Hatton Rock, the aforementioned Alveston Manor settlement and cemetery, onward to Bidford-on-Avon with its cemetery, productive site / marketplace and important river-crossing, and past a dozen others before joining the Severn at Tewkesbury. This chain of settlements and cemeteries is remarkable, both as a western frontier of the putatively ‘Anglo-Saxon’ furnished burial rite, but also, as one of only two major river basins with significant early ‘Anglo-Saxon’ activity which drains westward into the Celtic Sea. The material culture of these cemeteries highlights substantial trade connections in all directions, and shifting influence over time upon a de-facto proto-kingdom which was eventually folded into Mercia at some point in the early 7th century. Some of these cemeteries, however, see late Roman burials intermingled with post-Roman ones, a high frequency of both Roman and nominally ‘British’ finds, and signs of continuity of Romano-British settlement and industry.    

The Anglo-Saxon cemetery at Bidford-on-Avon lies directly beneath the modern village, on the north bank of the river as it runs east to west, in the direction of Evesham, and the kingdom of the Hwicce. The main road through the village, running north-south approximately follows the route of an ancient Roman road – Ryknild Street, which ran from near Cirencester (territory of the ‘Upper Thames Valley’ tribes connected with the origins of the Kingdom of Wessex) to Lichfield (heartland of what would later emerge as the kingdom of Mercia) and beyond. A spur of this road, just to the north, ran to Droitwich, networking the site with the critical salt-trade of the region in late antiquity. The river-crossing at Bidford was thus an important intersection for trade east-west by the river (and possibly beyond, into the Celtic Sea), north-south by the road, and closely connected with the region’s main source of salt. Later accounts of goods delivered to Pershore Abbey, by river boat from Evesham (only 12km downstream from Bidford) suggest that the river was indeed navigable to river boats this far upstream during the early medieval period (Tompkins, 2017). This fording-point might therefore also have served as a loading-point for transferring goods from boats to carts on the Roman road network, or vice versa, explaining its development as a trade hub (Tompkins, 2017). It should therefore probably not be a surprise that this became an important centre in late antiquity, evidenced by building remains, a ‘productive site’ (Richard & Naylor, 2010) with high concentration of stray finds possibly indicating a marketplace, and a massive cemetery.  
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Indeed the cemetery at Bidford is so massive that it has been regarded as 'supra-local' - ie. serving a much wider community than those which lived immediately local to it (Tompkins, 2017). This, together with trade, might explain the unusually wide variety of dress items found in burials there. 

​The cemetery was discovered during the cutting of the new road (near to the route of the Roman one) in 1921 where workers unearthed a number of disturbed Anglo-Saxon finds. This was followed by a more systematic excavation of the ‘gravel plateau’ 150 yards from the Roman road and 200 yards from the old ford (Humphreys et. al. 1923) in the summer of 1922, uncovering approx. 112 graves including around 80 inhumations and a not-precisely-recorded number of cremations. Further excavations in the summer of 1923 (Humphreys et. al. 1924) brought the total number of graves to 214; again, a mixture of inhumations and cremations. Most of the finds from these excavations ended up in the collections of the Shakespeare Birthplace Trust in Stratford-on-Avon. 

Although the 1920s excavators were confident they had found the limits of the cemetery, more burials emerged during development in 1971 necessitating multiple rescue excavations from 1971 to 1994, which for a long time went unpublished. The finds from these excavations are in the keeping of the Warwickshire County Council, with a small number of star items displayed at the Market Hall Museum in Warwick alongside some items from Wasperton.

Over all Bidford-on-Avon is the largest Anglo-Saxon cemetery in the region but badly suffers from its history of piecemeal excavation and patchy reporting. A retrospective review of the 1970s-90s excavations underway since 2012, by MOLA’s Sue Hirst and Tania M. Dickinson was published in 2021 (Hirst & Dickinson, 2021). The divided responsibility for the finds (and lack of a local or regional centre for displaying such material) has led to these finds, together with those from neighbouring cemeteries, remaining mostly out of public view. 

​Following our work to re-create the shields from Bidford-on-Avon grave 182, and less famously grave 33 (for which some detective-work was required) we embarked on a project to produce a full impression of one of the more remarkable female burials from this cemetery, once again turning to the reports of the 1920s excavations. Aside from the famous uniquely decorated shield-boss this cemetery is most well-known for a particularly fine gilt-bronze great-square-headed brooch in the Shakespeare Birthplace Trust collection, and although overshadowed by the Alveston Manor Brooch with which it is kept (and now on display at the Ad Gefrin Centre in Wooler, Northumberland) it stands out both due to the quality of its casting, and the flawless preservation of its gilding – bearing no signs of wear or decay, and thus looking almost like it had been made yesterday.  What grave did this brooch come from, and what other objects was it found with?

That much of the short report is given over to a painstaking discussion and interpretation of the skulls – through the lens of the now utterly discredited pseudoscience of phrenology – rather than a more methodical discussion of the finds, gives some insight into the biases and deficiencies of scholarship at the time. This was made more problematic by the imprecise use of terminology, especially with regard to brooches, as a more robust typology had not yet been developed.  The inadequate accounting of the finds in Humpheys et. al. 1923&4 has challenged ongoing efforts at the Shakespeare Birthplace Trust to catalogue their collection. 

​The famous brooch in question is shown in fig.1 plate XV (Humphreys et. al. 1923) concerning the first season of excavations, from which we can infer that it belonged to grave 1 to 112, and is captioned as a ‘square headed bronze brooch’ but no such brooch appears in the grave summaries appendix.  Here the only brooch types recorded are ‘saucer-shaped, cruciform, disc-shaped, applied and annular’.  Considering this brooch was the joint ‘star item’ among the finds from the 1922 excavation, and accurately described in the body text, it is extremely odd that it was not obviously included in the grave contents appendix, and it seems reasonable to assume that it has been included but under the wrong label.

The Grave Contents appendix lists pairs of ‘cruciform’ brooches in various other graves, yet no true cruciform brooches were found in this phase of the excavation. Instead, the chapter on brooches describes, and shows, a series of what they term ‘primitive square-headed bronze brooches’ (what we would term, today, a type of 'small-long brooch' (Geake & Webley, 2018) ) and two more intricate small ‘square-headed bronze brooches with zoomorphic design’ (which we would today term ‘small square-headed brooches’ – a miniature version of the great square-headed brooch with its own distinct distribution).  It thus appears that (as different varieties of ‘long brooch’) all pairs of small-long brooches, small square-headed brooches, and the single great-square-headed brooch in this excavation phase were glossed as ‘cruciform’ in the appendix.
The inconsistency in how brooches were labelled, between the finds chapter and grave contents appendix may have been the result of these sections being authored by different contributors to the report. 

​Having established that the great square headed brooch has been recorded as ‘cruciform’, this narrows the list of possible graves down to seven (Graves 27, 40, 47, 52, 75, 76, and 88).  Each of these graves are recorded as containing beads (combinations of amber, glass, and ‘paste’) and some contained knives, bronze toiletry sets, and fragments of iron chatelaines – the latter more indicative of a late 6th to 7th century date thus less likely to be associated with the great brooch. One contained at least one silver spiral ring. 

​This would have been as far as we could go in terms of reconstructing the assemblage of grave goods which belonged with the Bidford great-brooch. Helpfully, however, the typical circumstances in which such brooches are found can help us narrow the possibilities for its grave origin.
Great-square brooches typically sat on the central chest, pinning a cloak or shawl (Walton-Rogers, 2007) and therefore are additional / supplementary to a smaller pair of brooches which sat beneath, on each shoulder, and pinned the peplos-style dress, if one was worn (Owen-Crocker, 2005). They are effectively never found as a pair, but alone or as a ‘third brooch’ – usually contrasting with the smaller pair. Of the seven graves containing so-called ‘cruciform’ brooches from the 1922 excavation, all but grave 88 contained a ‘pair’ only (Humphreys et. al. 1923). 

Grave 88 is recorded as having a single ‘cruciform’ brooch, and two ‘applied’ brooches – a form of saucer brooch which (unlike the more common type) was fabricated rather than cast (Evison, 1974), with decoration in the form of a die-impressed foil (pressblech) set in the middle of the saucer and richly gilded. Because of the delicate construction and bimetallic / galvanic corrosion due to the combinations of bronze and solder, these are typically found in very poor condition compared to their cast-bronze cousins, but when new may have been even more impressive. Interestingly, reviewing other cemeteries in the wider region, it seems that this otherwise relatively uncommon type of paired brooch is very often associated with the most impressive great brooches in their respective cemeteries.

Helpfully only one pair of applied brooches was found during the 1922 excavation, and these were discussed consecutively with the great-brooch (as the most ‘richly gilt’ items in the collection) in the discussion of finds (Humpheys 1923); 6.5cm in diameter and with a hole for missing cabochon gems in their centre. It is thus overwhelmingly likely that these items are indeed a set, and thus, that the famous brooch came from grave 88. 
​​

​Grave 88 was found at a depth of 3ft, aligned with feet pointing to the east-north-east, in the north-east side of the area excavated in 1922. Based on the grave plan included in the second volume (Humphreys et. al. 1924) reporting on the second season of excavations, it appears that this grave sat among a couple of neat rows of graves on the east edge of the cemetery, mostly aligned east-west, in contrast to the more haphazard and less densely arranged burials in the ‘core’ of the cemetery which were predominantly aligned north-south.  We have no image or clear illustration of the grave-plan, but the tiny sketch of the skeleton in the cemetery plan lacks lower legs or arms, suggesting there was a degree of disturbance here. The related grave 79 is shown in figure 4 of the report, with saucer brooches, bead swag, situla, and large pin in situ, all in precisely the positions we would expect to find them. 

The occupant of grave 88 was recorded as female by the excavators (though it is unclear if this was based on osteology, or merely the character of the grave-goods). The grave goods included;

• A richly gilt Great-Square Headed brooch (most likely worn horizontally, central on the chest).
• 2x richly gilt Applied Brooches (most likely on each shoulder, pinning a peplos-style dress).
• Swag(s) of beads including amber, ‘paste’ and glass
• A knife (probably at the waist)
• A silver strip spiral finger-ring (worn on the right hand)
• A bronze girdle-buckle (waist) and another in 2 pieces
• ‘1 saucer brooch between the femora’
• A bronze-banded ‘situla’ / bucket (5-6’’ above & to the right of the skull)

(Items for which no more information exists beyond this brief description, which we have been unable to track down, match, or find photographs of, are shown above in grey.)
​
Among the grave-goods above, we can confidently reconstruct the brooches and ring, and their likely positions. Other items are unfortunately more challenging, owing to deficiencies in preservation, and in reporting. Unlike the one from nearby grave 79 the bucket from grave 88 was poorly preserved, and not photographed for the report. Knives, present in many of the burials, were not photographed or described. Likewise, buckles from this excavation were generally not described or photographed in any detail, and those which were do not match the limited details we have for the buckles from grave 88. The note in the comments section of the grave-contents appendix only -- of a saucer brooch 'between the femora' contradicts the accounting of brooches in the very same table -- is deeply peculiar, and something we will return to in a future article.
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The biggest challenge, however, is identifying the bead swag(s). The ‘necklaces’ from the cemetery were discussed in their totality in the report but not identified grave-by-grave; a few are shown in monochrome photographs (plate XVII of the report) but have clearly been re-strung. It is unclear how valid the arrangements of these beads are, or whether those photographed together do belong from the same grave. Here the word ‘paste’ is used for polychrome or patterned glass beads, owing to a misunderstanding of the technique used to manufacture them in antiquity. In fact, these too are glass, worked into elaborate patterns by lampwork. The substantial use of amber as part of necklaces in this cemetery may appear unusual for those familiar with cemetery material from other regions but is absolutely typical of the Avon Valley, where huge swags of amber beads appear to have been common, and glass beads were used as accent pieces among them, more sparingly.  Sometimes amber was worked down into small perfectly formed torus-beads, but more often it was used in a semi-rough state, preserving more of the material for a bolder, if less refined visual statement. This is not the ‘rough chip’ often worn today, but what could be described as irregular ‘tumble-stones’ including thin, flat discs, and thicker, often sub-cubical stones of equivalent roundness to traditional wooden dice.

​The tiny ‘necklace’ plate XVII Fig.1a (glass, amber and ‘paste) clearly features bronze discs (degraded drilled Roman coins) together with a Romano-British melon-bead, and can thus be identified as the set from grave 43 (Necklace 3 on page 105). Beyond this fairly obvious identification, identifying the other necklaces is fraught with difficulty. Assuming accuracy and consistency of the discussion here with the grave contents appendix (which we have already seen, with the brooches, is likely to be poor) four graves contained necklaces incorporating amber, glass and ‘paste’, including grave 88. 
Three of the photographed necklaces are identified as such – one of which – the set from grave 43, can be excluded. Another (plate XVII fig 1.b) is described as being formed of 37 beads – principally of amber but with two ‘paste’, one ornamented with dots and the other with twisted zoomorphic pattern – yet this description is inconsistent with the caption, lacking any mention of ‘pure’ glass beads, casting doubt on whether this can be the necklace from grave 88, or instead belong to any of four other graves recorded as having necklaces of only ‘amber and paste’ beads. 

​​The remaining, photographed candidate (plate XVII fig. 3) is extremely elaborate, consisting of ninety-two beads of amber, glass and paste, almost all of which are large. These include beads described as having ‘twisted or zoomorphic patterns’ but also ‘fluted’ beads – which by studying the photograph we can better describe as ‘melon beads’ of the more typically ‘Anglo-Saxon’ variety – smaller and more deeply textured – and most likely formed of deep blue recycled Roman glass (another necklace of glass and amber is recorded as having many colours of glass included, but with ‘ultramarine blue predominant’).  These beads are displayed in the photograph in the form of three opulent swags which interlock at a single centre-point forming an octopus-like structure but it is quite unclear what this peculiar arrangement was based on, as they certainly were not found strung in the grave.

Contrary to the living historian’s convention of stringing beads as a single swag between brooches, Penelope Walton Rogers (2007) has documented a wide variety of strange bead arrangements based on positions in early Anglo-Saxon graves – the most complex of which is from nearby Wasperton g155, where multiple necklaces around the neck sat above a swag hung between brooches, from the centre of which hung a long vertical loop, dangling down toward the waist.   
Whatever their arrangement, the 92-bead arrangement (Fig.3) with its large chunks of amber, elaborately patterned polychrome beads and glossy melon-beads, is certainly the most elaborate in the cemetery. Although it is tempting to assume that this most elaborate of necklaces should go with the most elaborate brooch set, and thus belong to grave 88, we have seen in other cemeteries (including nearby Wasperton) that this is not necessarily always the case.
​

​Frustratingly it seems we will never have any real clarity, regarding the bead sets which belonged to grave 88, other than that it included substantial amber, patterned polychrome, and plain glass (likely melon) beads. For the purposes of our reconstruction of the burial assemblage the only option which therefore remains to us, is to put together a conjectural set which is consistent with the over- all character of the bead sets recovered from this phase of the excavation; both grave 88 and its neighbours.

This lengthy discussion of the chain of logic and deduction necessary to reconstruct these forgotten assemblages, and its shortcomings, demonstrates the amount of information which can be irretrievably lost due to poor excavation and/or reporting. A tendency to thoroughly clean items recovered from graves of any organic residues, in the early 20th century likewise meant no insights were gained regarding textiles, challenging attempts to reconstruct costumes. However, neighbouring cemeteries excavated more recently provide a wealth of detail regarding early Anglo-Saxon cloth and clothing in the region, in this period.
​
In the next chapter of this series we will depart from the tricky case of Bidford grave 88, and present just such a case study, where a particular woman's burial, nearby, yielded so much detail, both with respect to dress items and the clothing which they adorned, that it was possible to reconstruct an entire, unique costume, based solely on evidence from an individual grave.

Dickinson, T.M., 2013. An Anglo-Saxon “cunning woman” from Bidford-on-Avon. In The Archaeology of Anglo-Saxon England (pp. 359-373). Routledge.

​Evison, V.I., 1978. Early Anglo-Saxon applied disc brooches. Part II: in England. The Antiquaries Journal, 58(2), pp.260-278.

Geake, H. and Webley, R. 2018. Brooches - Finds Recording Guide. Portable Antiquities Scheme. [Online] Url=https://finds.org.uk/counties/findsrecordingguides/brooches-2/ [Accessed 01/09/2023]

​S M Hirst and T M Dickinson, 'The archaeology of Bidford-on-Avon: excavations 1970–94', Transactions Birmingham and Warwickshire Archaeology Society, 123 (2021), 1–211​

Humphreys, J., Ryland, J.W., Barnard, E.A.B., Wellstood, F.C. and Barnett, T.G., 1923. V.—An Anglo-Saxon Cemetery at Bidford-on-Avon, Warwickshire. Archaeologia, 73, pp.89-116.

​Humphreys, J., Ryland, J.W., Wellstood, F.C., Barnard, E.A.B. and Barnett, T.G., 1925. XII.—An Anglo-Saxon Cemetery at Bidford-on-Avon, Warwickshire: Second Report on the Excavations. Archaeologia, 74, pp.271-288.​

​Owen-Crocker, G.R., 2004. Dress in Anglo-Saxon England. Boydell Press.

​Richards, J.D. and Naylor, J., 2010. A 'Productive Site' at Bidford-on-Avon, Warwickshire: Salt, Communication and Trade in Anglo-Saxon England. In A Decade of Discovery: Proceedings of the Portable Antiquities Scheme Conference 2007 (No. 520, pp. 193-200). Archaeopress.

​Tompkins, A., 2017. The Avon Valley in the fifth to mid-seventh centuries: contacts and coalescence in a frontier polity? (Doctoral dissertation, University of Oxford).

Walton-Rogers, P, 2007. Cloth and clothing in early Anglo-Saxon England, AD 450-700. 

Early Anglo-Saxon swords have rightly become a subject of great archaeological and weaponological interest. Scholarship has, broadly, focused on technical aspects of the exquisite smithcraft of these blades (Lang & Ager 1989; Gilmour, 1991; Leahy 2011; Thiele et. al. 2015) which (together with their contemporaries across Europe) represent a historic pinnacle of artistic ironworking; the sociology and social history around this most expensive and prestigious of weapons (Davidson 1998; Brunning 2019); its role in the furnished burial rite and attempts at typology and seriation (Härke, 1989 & 2004; Bayliss et. al. 2015) to some extent their form and function, associated biomechanics, and combinations of all of the above (Mortimer & Bunker, 2019). 
​
Those familiar with this period and its accoutrements will likely be fairly familiar with the form, and feel, of an early Anglo-Saxon sword, perhaps based on handling carefully made replicas. The validity of any observations made by handling such swords, however, will always be limited by the accuracy of those replicas, ranging from reenactment blunts (the safety adaptations of which add up to completely change the mass and handling of the blade, (1) ) to reproductions of particular archaeological finds made by expert historic bladesmiths, who often work from observations made by personally examining finds to collect dimensions. Such smiths have a working sense for the dimensions and properties of early Anglo-Saxon swords, but for many years, publications on the subject have been light on technical details: until only a couple of decades ago it was typical for archaeological reports to fail entirely to document the width and length of blades, or to confuse length of the blade with length of the object as a whole. As archaeological iron continues to degrade, post excavation, and can never be wholly stabilised (Welton, 2016) the urgency of recording these seemingly arcane details for future study is increasingly recognised. 

​A cursory review of major recent publications, however, reveals that an important detail for characterising these blades – critical for modelling their original weight and handling characteristics – is routinely not being recorded or reported. This has led us to ask a troubling question; do we really know what thickness early Anglo-Saxon blades had? Could generations of reproductions, and the conclusions drawn from them, be completely wrong? 

​This discussion and the small piece of research reported here was prompted by an enquiry from historic craftsperson Tom Betts who, working on an early Anglo-Saxon sword and approaching the daunting task of the grind, asked me what weight (for its length) or maximal thickness he should aim for. This question gave me pause, for it is not one I had hitherto considered.

The mass of a blade is a function of its density (the density of iron and steel can for our purposes be treated as constant) and its volume, which is proportional to its length, width and thickness. 

Doubling any one of these dimensions would double the volume, and therefore mass of the sword. To say nothing of the distribution of this mass (and the moment applied to the wrist – the way, in practice, we experience a sword’s ‘heaviness’ or ‘balance’) it is obvious that thickness is therefore important, and that the overall mass of the sword is highly sensitive to it. ​

I say ‘highly sensitive’ because as the smallest of the three measurements, an error of just a couple of millimetres in thickness could increase projected (or replica) blade-mass by 50 or even 100%; the equivalent (in this crude model) of doubling the blade’s length or width. And while it’s obviously completely implausible that we might ever mistake a sword for being twice as long, or wide as it actually was, with thickness such a scenario isn’t so farfetched. 
​
It should therefore be clear that blade-thickness matters; it is absolutely understandable that any smith wanting to make a replica early Anglo-Saxon sword would need this measurement, and be frustrated that data on this appears to be unavailable. 

It is understandable, then, when faced with a mass of flaking rust and organic concretions, that archaeologists might judge any measurement or recording of blade thickness on excavation, or during post-excavation work to be entirely pointless, sensitive as it is to error caused by decay. They might not bother reporting weight either, based on similar reasoning.

​Measurements of individual rusted blades are certainly worth taking with a huge pinch of salt, and in some cases where poor preservation or massive amounts of concretions are obvious, might be entirely meaningless. However, as it can be argued that the sources of error affecting these measurements (vis. their representation of original blade thickness) can work to inflate, or deflate them depending on conditions, I would argue that there is potential for meta-analysis of thickness measurements of a large enough sample of sword remains from different contexts to yield reasonable and reliable ranges and averages for early Anglo-Saxon sword thickness in general. The potential for such information to be useful in the future, and its potential irretrievable loss due to post-excavation decay, I would argue, at least justifies this stat being routinely recorded out of an abundance of caution, even if it might seem silly at the time. 

​As already discussed, excavation reports typically do not include thickness data for excavated swords, but there are rare exceptions. It is beyond the scope of this article to undertake a comprehensive review of all cemetery reports looking for thickness data but from a cursory review of excavation reports we regularly dip into, this key measurement is missing from discussion of the swords from Bergh Apton Norfolk (Green & Rogerston 1978), Westgarth Gardens Bury St Edmunds Suffolk (West, Crowfoot et. al. 1988), Great Chesterford Essex (Evison, 1994), Barrow Clump Wiltshire (Andrews et. al. 2019), the Prittlewell Princely Burial Essex (Blackmore et. al. 2019), the ‘Pioneer’ burial, Wollaston Northamptonshire (Meadows 2019) or the ‘Marlow Warlord’ Buckinghamshire interim report (Bunker & Thomas 2022; though for more on this sword see below). 

​In the report on the Snape (Suffolk) cemetery, discussion of the sword from g47, with substantial organic remains of the scabbard, nevertheless did mention the thickness of the extant remains as a whole – 17mm – though due to the organics this has no bearing on the thickness of the blade (Filmer-Sankey & Pestell 2001). Likewise, reporting the cemetery at Pilgrims Way, Wrotham, Kent, Stoodley et. al. (2015) documented the extant thickness of the three swords found. The first is described as having “very little organic material preserved” and a reported thickness of 4mm (Grave 7003/ON 42) which we can take to be approximately representative of the blade’s true thickness, whereas the other swords had far more substantial scabbard remains preserved, and consequently had extant thickness reported as 10mm in both cases (Grave 7010/ON 57, and G7067/ ON 223).  

The Northumbrian sword discovered in a shallow inhumation burial at Acklam Wold, North Yorkshire in 1980 is reported as “5.8cm wide by 0.3cm thick at the hilt end” (Ager & Gilmour, 1988). Reporting the sword found during excavation of the small cemetery at Wigber Low in the Derbyshire Peaks, Collis et. al. (1983) documented its blade length and width, together with the length, width, and thickness of the tang (7mm) but not the thickness of the blade. This unfortunately cannot be taken as a proxy for thickness of the blade-root, as the swaging of tangs often made them thicker than the blade-core - a fact borne out by hilt-plate data (see later). 
​
Of particular interest are the descriptions of swords from the Dover Buckland Cemetery, Kent (1994 excavations; Parfitt et. al. 2012) where seven swords were recovered. The report (p49) states that:

​The close correspondence of the thickness of these blades is notable, and regardless of the position at which these sections were cut, it is fair to assume that none of these blades’ maximal thickness (at the blade root / shoulder) ever exceeded 5mm. It is also notable that the sections with the smallest thickness were taken furthest from the blade-shoulder, so might be indicative of gradual distal taper.

It is now is possible to say more of the dimensions of the 6th century sword from the 'Marlow Warlord' burial in Buckinghamshire excavated in 2020. Although the interrim report (Bunker & Thomas 2022) documented the length (87cm), blade length (75cm) and maximum width (6cm) - each in the fairly typical range for early AS swords- it did not report thickness. Thickness measurements, however, were collected at various points along the blade post-conservation (Matt Bunker, personal comm. 2023) which give us not only a clearer idea of this blade's maximal cross-section but also how it changed along the blade's length. Six measurements were taken from the area of the blade immediately below the guard, both on and 10mm either side of the centre-line, and averaged 8.39mm. At 60cm down the blade the same array of measurements averaged 5.99mm. The difference of over 2mm in thickness (a reduction of 29% thickness across 80% of the blade length) is indicative of modest distal taper.  These thickness measurements are substantially greater than other swords discussed here, but as the blade was in relatively good condition cannot be easily dismissed as an artefact of expanded corrosion. 

Another sword from another 'sentinel burial' at Brimble Hill near Swindon, Wiltshire - excavated in 2000 (accompanied by a shield-boss dateable to the late 6th or early 7th century) but only recently analysed and in poorer condition, had a total length of 89.3cm, blade length 78.0cm, was 48mm wide at the shoulders tapering to 40mm wide at 68cm (87%) down the blade. In this case thickness measurements were collected at 10mm intervals along the centreline of the blade and were consistently 5mm (Matt Bunker, personal comm). 

The thickness data from these few reports are summarised below.

Might there be another way to get to grips with this key measurement of early Anglo-Saxon sword blades indirectly, in a way entirely unaffected by thirteen centuries of rust? Once again, it’s Staffordshire Hoard to the rescue!

An enormous collection of mostly gold and silver fittings, mostly detached from larger items of war-gear prior to deposition and found in 2009, the Staffordshire Hoard contains remains of perhaps over 100 richly hilted Anglo-Saxon swords dating from the late 6th to mid 7th centuries CE (Fern et. al. 2019).

The blades of the swords were not included in the Hoard, but rather, the gold and silver fittings which had once adorned their hilts, and had been often quite brutally removed prior to deposition. (A detailed discussion of the various sorts of hilt fittings, form, function and combinations can be found here: link) Although many fittings were found badly mangled, being of precious metals they are effectively immune to corrosion and were found chemically intact. Because these fittings were precisely crafted to be tight-fitting, we can use them to learn a great deal about the blades they once adorned, of which nothing at all survives.

We have already seen how two unusual fittings – both gold adornments of seaxes – bore slots for their blades which could be measured and cross-referenced with our database of grave seax finds, to allow us to reconstruct the entire form of their missing blades (Thompson & Thompson 2014).  Likewise, the lower-most hilt-plate of a sword bears a slot, relatively precisely fitting the root of its blade. Measuring this slot can therefore give a (maximal) estimate for the width and thickness of the blade it once adorned.  The Staffordshire Hoard garnet-adorned seax assemblage validates this approach, for its slot was, strictly, teardrop-shaped to enclose the blade shoulders but not the blade-root, which instead butted up against the gold of the lower fitting leaving a measurable dent – the direct footprint of the blade’s cross-section. The extremely close correspondence between the slot and this dent, in the thickness axis, demonstrates how precisely these pieces were fitted to their blades, and therefore justifies the use of gold and silver fittings’ slots as proxies for the cross-sections of the blades themselves.  

The Hoard contained 171 fragments of hilt-plates of which 131 (77%) were gold; the remainder, silver. 100 of these were over half complete so with a potential to provide tang or blade-slot data. The sample represents hilt-plates from all four possible positions.  Three of these can provide estimates for the width and thickness of the original swords’ tangs, but only the lower-guard bottom hiltplate (‘lower lower’) bears an oval slot which tightly fitted around the root of the blade, and thus gives a measure of a sword’s maximal cross-section. As a LL hilt-plate’s slot is distinct and occupies around 2/3 of the plate’s length, LL hilt-plates are easiest to distinguish among unidentified fragments. 

34 gold LL hilt-plates*, and 5 silver LL hilt-plates were identified, thus, in theory, representing the cross-section of 39 sword blades. One other fragment was identified as certainly a lower-guard’s hilt-plate but of unknown position; a further 12 fragments were identified as likely from lower-guard hilt-plates but of unknown position.   (* Nb. this likely includes the seax hilt-plate)

This is, however, complicated by severe damage to the hilt-plates (particularly the softer gold ones) mostly attributable to their brutal dismantling prior to deposition.  Fern et. al. (2019) reported that sword-blade width at lower guard could be determined from the blade slots of 8 hilt-plates, ranging from 49 t0 62.5mm, with four between 52 and 57mm wide. (We previously discussed the aparrent bimodal distribution of sword widths suggesting two parallel distinct subtypes of Anglo-Saxon swords here). Measurements for the minor-axis of the blade slot, representing blade thickness, were not reported.

Our own visual survey of the Staffordshire Hoard images catalogue identified only five LL hilt-plates surviving sufficiently intact and un-deformed to provide a reliable full blade cross-section, and another two where the tips of the hilt-plate were damaged such that width could only be roughly estimated, but with the middle section undistorted allowing a reliable thickness measurement to be obtained. ​

All hilt-plates discussed (as well as all examples too damaged for measurement but where original vague shape is discernible) had sharp-cornered elliptical (or, strictly, pointed-ellipse / mandorla / symmetric lens) slots formed of two smooth continuous curves implying (but not necessarily proving) that the blades had a smooth elliptical / convex, rather than flat or more hexagonal grind.  None had more complex curves indicative of an attempt to lock tightly into a fuller, though this does not necessarily prove that all the blades represented by these hilt plates were fuller-less. (Sword blades from this period are frequently found with, and without a broad, shallow fuller). 

Tangentially, it is interesting to observe that all upper hilt-plates had rectangular tang-slots which were considerably thicker than typical for blade-slots in LL hilt-plates, including in the case of Cat244 where both hilt-plates remained attached together. This makes sense considering tangs were swaged rather than made by stock-removal (compressing the end of the blade-core’s width down into a narrower spike, it must necessarily grow in length and thickness) but this has practical implications for the hilt assembly, in that the LL hilt-plate’s slot would be too thin to slot over the tang, so would have to be slid up from the blade tip during assembly. By extension this confirms to us that, at no point along a finished blade could its thickness or width have exceeded that of the blade slot; the blade must have tapered in profile and thickness or at least remained constant. The blade-slot thus gives us both a close approximation of the actual cross-section of the blade at its root, and the whole blade’s cross-sectional maximum.

​This is a frustratingly small sample among so many components from so many swords. Tray type, and silver pieces are proportionately over-represented here compared to the sample as a whole, as these were more robust so more likely to survive sufficiently intact for measurement.  With in-person measurement and/or digital scanning and virtual restoration it might be possible to glean more blade cross-sections from hilt-plates otherwise too damaged and distorted to be measured.

Slot width varied from 45 to 62mm in this sample; average (mean) slot width was 55mm (median=56, sd=6.5, n=7). Slot thickness varied from 3 to 5mm, with an average (mean) width of 4.4mm (median=4.5, mode=5, sd=0.8, n=7).

There is a hint of a possible positive correlation between thickness and width (figure 2), as we might expect for natural variation in the output of bladesmiths nevertheless maintaining rough proportions. However, owing both to this apparent trend being weak (Adjusted R-squared:  0.2) and the unfortunately excessively small sample-size this trend is not statistically significant (p=0.18). This means that where no correlation existed between width and thickness, we would still expect to see a distribution like this in 18 of 100 cases purely by chance. 

Based on this very limited sample and analysis it is fair to say that sword hilt-plates in the Staffordshire Hoard tended to have slots 3-5mm thick (and most commonly, 5mm thick); the blades which they once adorned were likely up to 0.5mm thinner than these slots, but obviously cannot have been thicker.

​We can therefore now state that we have a highly reliable (unaffected by corrosion) albeit not necessarily representative measure for the thickness of early Anglo-Saxon swords. Strictly this sample comes from a single context, and the particular pieces may represent gear from a single army, so might not be representative of early Anglo-Saxon swords as a whole. It is interesting to note, however, that these measurements are broadly in agreement with the small sample of reported blade thicknesses (see section “Thickness Data directly from Blades” and Table 1) which ranged from 3 to 4mm.
​
Direct measurement and perhaps scanning and digital reconstruction of mangled hilt-plates from the Hoard may offer the potential of increasing our sample-size for Staffordshire Hoard sword cross-sections. However, the addition of measurements from extant hilt-plates of other early Anglo-Saxon swords in museum collections might allow these averages and ranges to be more representative of swords in early Anglo-Saxon lowland Britain as a whole.

​Data from direct measurement of blades, metallographic analysis, and now, measurement of detached hilt-plate blade slots suggest early Anglo-Saxon swords tended to be 3-5mm thick at the blade root, with or without a shallow fuller (1-2mm deep based on sections from Dover Buckland) and, likely had a very gradual distal taper.
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We therefore suggest that where specific data is lacking, early Anglo-Saxon swords should be modelled or reconstructed with a thickness falling within this range, and particularly, should not exceed 6mm maximal thickness. 

Edits: 09/07/2023.  Expanding section "Thickness Data directly from blades" to include measurements of the Marlow and Brimble Hill swords provided by Matt Bunker (personal comm.)

The approaching coronation of King Charles III represents a chain of similar coronation or consecration rites of monarchs in Britain reaching back at least 1000 years. The precise origins of many of these rites have been lost to time. 
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Over all though, with the history of the English monarchy often presented as beginning with William the Conqueror's coronation on Christmas Day 1066 at Westminster Abbey, it's easy to imagine Britain's deeper history is not represented in the ceremony. In fact, although less obvious than later medieval elements, there are significant parts of the  coronation rite which reach back to, or attempt to reach out to (widest sense) Anglo-Saxon history. 
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​Anglo-Saxon rites of coronation, or consecration, at least in the Christian period (broadly 650-1066 CE) likely predominantly took place in whichever minster enjoyed the greatest royal patronage within their respective kingdom at that time. For most Anglo-Saxon kings the venue for their consecration was not recorded. 
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During the 8th century - when the kingdom of Mercia was at the height of its power, consecrations of monarchs may well have occurred within the hallowed chamber of the Repton baptisty / mausoleum, or in the chapel above it, although the unaccountably grand (some have argued 'Carolingian style') basilica at Brixworth may also have hosted similar occasions in the late 8th to early 9th centuries. At the same time, consecrations of West Saxon kings are likely to have taken place in the Old Minster in Winchester.

It was built in a forward-looking continental Anglo-Norman Romanesque style and was consecrated in December 1065 CE, only a week before the king's death. The building was not truly completed until the 1090s.  
It features prominently on the Bayeux Tapestry and was subsequently (probably) used for the coronations of Harold II on the 6th of January 1066, and (more certainly) of William the Conqueror on Christmas day, 1066. 

Thus, although little of the original building survives (entirely rebuilt during the reign of Henry III), Westminster Abbey was already established as the site for English coronations by the very end of the Anglo-Saxon Age. 

The investiture or consecration of early Anglo-Saxon kings appears to have involved physical regalia as symbols of office, most probably an elaborate helmet in place of a crown, a sword, and other more mysterious objects. Various items from the famous early 7th century kingly burial of Sutton Hoo Mound 1 likely represent such regalia, which included a carved whetstone (sometimes referred to as a sceptre), a large iron standard (also sometimes referred to as a sceptre), an iron axe-hammer (also regarded as a sceptre) and a more delicate rod decorated with gold strips and appliques which has been termed a 'wand' of office. ​

As part of 'Romanitas' — the trend for Anglo-Saxon nobility to attempt to emulate all things Roman — mid Anglo-Saxon kings were often depicted wearing circlets or diadems in coin-portraiture, but the first depiction of a true 'crown' as we would recognise it is probably the frontispiece of the copy of Bede's Life of Saint Cuthbert commissioned for the saint's shrine by King Æthelstan in 934 CE. This shows King Æthelstan himself presenting a copy of the book to the saint, and shows him wearing a gold crown similar to those seen on his coins. 

Among the other regalia, a new monarch is presented with a ceremonial sword known as the 'Sword of Offering' as part of the coronation ritual following the anointing (itself a ritual with Old Testament and therefore ostensibly 'Bronze Age' origins).
The presentation of a sword was certainly also part of the Anglo-Saxon coronation or consecration rite for monarchs, though swords were symbols of warrior and aristocratic status and not exclusive to kings.  Of particular note, the medieval chronicler William of Malmesbury records that the young prince Æthelstan was presented with a 'royal cloak' and sword and 'golden scabbard' in a ceremony by his grandfather King Alfred which historians take to have been a pseudo-consecration for Alfred's preferred grandson to eventually carry on his legacy, possibly in defiance of the wishes of Alfred's son and heir (and Æthelstan's father) Edward the Elder who had chosen his younger son (by his second wife) to succeed.
The presentation of a sword at the modern coronation therefore evokes the image of a similar scene between two of Anglo-Saxon England's founding kings.

It is likely that since mid Anglo-Saxon times at the latest it has been tradition for coronations to be presided over by the most senior member of the clergy available within the relevant kingdom. Prior to the 10th century it was rarely recorded who presided over coronations or consecrations, but at the emergence of the unified kingdom of England in the early 10th century this responsibility fell to the Archbishop of Canterbury, Athelm, who crowned King Æthelstan at Kingston in 924 CE.  
The Archbishopric of Canterbury had held seniority over all others in lowland Britain since at least the mid 7th century. From the 10th century it thus typically fell to whomever held this office to preside over coronations. 

Important exceptions are the coronations of Harold II and William the Conqueror, in Westminster Abbey in 1066, as the then Archbishop of Canterbury Stigant (d 1072) had been excommunicated by the pope for simultaneously holding the bishopric of Winchester. 

​The spectacular square mosaic floor at the centre of Westminster Abbey's coronation theatre defines the precise spot where every monarch of England has been crowned since 1274, and although it significantly post-dates the Anglo-Saxon period it has a curious Anglo-Saxon connection.
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Henry III rebuilt Westminster Abbey (in contemporary Gothic style) and chose Edward the Confessor, builder of the original abbey as his patron saint, relocating his remains into a fabulously decorated new shrine with spiralling columns and intricate Cosmatesque decoration, looking out the spectacular Cosmati Pavement. This honouring of England's last truly great Anglo-Saxon king was part of a wider programme (including substantial works for charity, and an energetic programme of travel) which sought to reconcile the monarchy with the English people, and he appears to have looked to rare, surviving spaces associated with Anglo-Saxon saints, and kingship, as inspiration for his works at Westminster.

In particular, as well as the characteristic spiralling pillars of St Edward's shrine, it has been observed that the coronation pavement bears a striking resemblance to the floorplan of the Royal Mercian mausoleum, baptistry, or perhaps coronation room, beneath the church of St Wystan in Repton, with its four bays set midway into its walls (loculi which originally held the bones of Mercian Kings and saints) corresponding perfectly to rectangular elements in the borders of the Cosmati floor which in the traditions of the abbey are referred to as 'tombs'. Excluding the border which contains these 'tombs' (corresponding to the walls of the Repton room) the square interior of the pavement corresponds precisely in size to the inner measurements of the Anglo-Saxon room at Repton, while other aspects of the design appear to reference the patterns seen in Anglo-Saxon jewellery, relating to the geometry of garnets (for more information see "Secrets in the Stones Part 4: The Garnet Code" by James D. Wenn). 
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It thus appears that Henry III transplanted the design of an ancient building associated with Anglo-Saxon kingship and sainthood, in symbolic form, into the heart of Westminster Abbey, so that coronations on this floor would connect with the traditions of kingship in Britain's deeper history.

This Coronation Chair can thus not truly be regarded as a relic of Anglo-Saxon coronations, though the Stone of Scone which sits within it might be regarded as just such a relic from the coronation rites of early medieval Scotland. Although the authenticity of the stone which survives to this day has been called into question it nevertheless represents some degree of continuity in the coronation rites with respect to Scotland. The stone was returned to Scotland in 1996 and is displayed in the Crown Room of Edinburgh Castle, only to be temporarily re-installed into Saint Edward's Throne for the occasion of coronations. 

It has been announced that at the personal request of King Charles III the oldest surviving Anglo-Saxon book - The Canterbury or Saint Augustine Gospels (Corpus Christi College, Lib. MS. 286) - will be brought and play a role in the ceremony. This illuminated manuscript is thought to have been brought with the mission of Saint Augustine in 597 CE to convert the Kingdom of Kent and the Anglo-Saxon kingdoms of lowland Britain more broadly. 

The Augustine Gospels are a miraculous survivor particularly of the turbulent years of the Reformation and Dissolution of the Monasteries in which countless surviving Anglo-Saxon treasures were lost. Its survival can be attributed to Matthew Parker -- first protestant archbishop of Canterbury -- who as an early historian of Anglo-Saxon England sought to save as many manuscripts as he could, even at times when some were considered heretical. It was likely taken from St Augustine's Abbey, Canterbury, and hidden at his repository -- of unknown location -- for safekeeping until after the turmoil had ended. This secret repository has been connected to the unusual, remote 'reliquary' Tudor home of his associate Rowland Hill - Soulton Hall in Shropshire. 
These precious documents would go on to be donated to Corpus Christi, Cambridge forming the largest collection of Anglo-Saxon literature - the Parker Library. ​

Since 1945 the Augustine Gospels have played a role in the initial enthronement of new Archbishops of Canterbury, carried to Canterbury by the librarian of Corpus Christi - and used for the new archbishop to swear oaths on.  Their use in the Coronation of Charles III is an innovation, though these gospels likely played a role in the consecration of kings of Kent in the 7th century, and perhaps of amalgamated kingdoms in the 8-11th centuries. 
This innovation, reportedly at the specific request of the new king is an important gesture of recognition of and respect for Anglo-Saxon heritage.

​The coronation of Charles III we will see in May 2023 will contain aspects of art and liturgy with roots that stretch deep into English and Anglo-Saxon history. Every century and fashion has made an impact, however, and the Anglo-Saxon origins of the parts of the ritual discussed above often need explanation to be appreciated.

The Thegns of Mercia are dedicated to improving access and understanding of the (broadest sense) Anglo-Saxon cultural complex, as well as the impact of the period on the world of today. As a diverse and highly networked cultural complex, the involvement of Anglo-Saxon history and symbolism in important moments of our national life such as this is emblematic of diversity and inclusion as a founding principle of our national character. The Anglo-Saxons' impact on contemporary UK life stretches beyond traditional royal liturgy, so follow our blog and come along to our events to hear more about topics such as clothing, jewellery, books and literature, medicine, religion, the military, and much more. As you watch the coronation in Westminster Abbey, please comment below if you spot any other aspects of the service that you think have Anglo-Saxon period origins.