Ribchester
After completing the Hadrians Wall walk, I picked up a rental car in Carlisle and, before heading north in to the Borders, decided to take a brief detour south to visit another Roman fort that has always interested me. 5,500 Sarmatian cavalry were posted to Britain during the reign of Marcus Aurelius, sometime after 175 CE, with many of them likely stationed along Hadrians Wall itself. Yet the only confirmed evidence for their presence is at a Roman fort called Bremetennacum, located at Ribchester near the River Ribble. I’ve always been interested in the role foreign troops and their unique cultures played in the Roman military, and the Sarmatian presence in Britain is especially fascinating, as several sources indicate that, when Rome withdrew from Britain, they remained.
Ribchester is located strategically at a crossroads between northern Carlisle and Manchester, and eastern York and Kirkham, then onto ports beyond. The fort was constructed around 70 CE and was permanently garrisoned throughout the Roman occupation of Britain, remaining a military and civilian settlement from the first through the 4th centuries—as long, for example, as the Untied States has been in existence. This is a staggering thought when put in perspective.
The Native Population
While most are familiar with stone circles, less obvious because they are no longer visible are the timber circles sometimes referred to as a '“woodhenge.” The Bleasdale double circle dates from the Bronze Age and contained cremation burials, a practice common to the period.
The Romans frequently made inroads into their conquest by exploiting local political disunity and inter-tribal conflicts to their advantage. By offering allegiances and support for one side against another, they could easily divide and conquer the local population. They also enticed the elites of the tribes with luxury goods from across the empire which bolstered their status among their peers and appealed to their pride.
Ribchester Fort
Ruins of a Roman bath house
There is not much left of the fort itself, but there are hints of its former grandeur scattered around the site, including these bits of excavated columns which line the entrance to the museum. It’s clear this was once an impressive and bustling place. I’m always amazed that, after a place has been abandoned, no one at least takes advantage of the work already done to create something clearly so useful, but they simply allow it to die. But there it is, in ruins. Or perhaps rightly so, if the memories the place are unhappy ones.
There are a few problems with this guide which I feel the need to point out.
The Sarmatians did not originate in Iran. Current research suggests that they, like their Scythian counterparts, likely had their homeland somewhere in the vicinity of the Yenisei River in southern Siberia on the eastern Steppe and pushed westward, like the Cimmerians and Scythians before them, in search of ever better pasture north of the Black Sea on the Pontic Steppe. The understandable confusion arises around the term “iranian” which refers to the family of language they spoke, not the country they came from (which, by the way, did not yet exist.) The Indo-Iranian family of languages are a branch of Indo-European languages which include ancient languages like Avestan and Sanskrit as well as modern languages like Persian, Hindi, Kurdish, and Ossetian, a language of modern descendants of Scythian peoples. It is not a genetic or geographic designation: the languages—and to some degree cultures—of the ancient Scythians and Sarmatians belonged to this family, so they are called “iranian” peoples. The same is true when referring to “celtic” or “germanic” people. These are ethnic designations based on linguistic (and cultural) affiliations, so far as they can be reconstructed.
The other issue I have is with “Lizard People.” While some have argued, based on Greek speculation, that “sauro-matian” meant “dragon” or “lizard” people, bolstered by the fact that they wore scale armor, there is a good chance this a made-up etymology just like Amazon supposedly meant “without breast.” Would an entire Iranian people adopt an unflattering Greek nickname for themselves? Maybe, but I’m guessing no. The truth is, no one knows what Sauromatae/Sarmatae means, and there are plenty of intriguing etymologies to consider. The word of caution I offer is that, in all the Indo-European/Indo-Iranian mythologies, the dragon/serpent is a chaotic, obstructive, destructive creature to be fought and defeated by the law-giving deity of order or the tribal hero figure. The names of so many war leaders have come down to us bearing the suffix “-aric/-orix” or similar (though too long a discussion to get into here, it signifies: the one who upholds the right order, justice) to indicate that the role envisioned by the I-E people for their war chiefs was one of preservation and restoration, not dragon-like destruction. While it’s possible that specific bands of warriors identified with and harnessed that obstructive/destructive energy against their enemies, it seems unlikely that ALL the Sarmatians would have called themselves “Team Dragon,” just as female warriors who gave rise to the Amazon myths probably didn’t call themselves “Team Boobless.” What the Greeks or Romans tried to rationalize in their own language might have just been nonsense. But, it pays to keep an open mind. It could be a designation given by an enemy that stuck, it could be we only have the name called them by foreigners and not what they called themselves, or maybe it’s a name adopted by an especially badass warrior or band that so terrified people others wanted a share in the fearsome reputation. Maybe “Dragon Man” was the Keyser Söze or the Dread Pirate Roberts of the day. Or, it had a meaning in the Sarmatian language that we have yet to uncover, and may never know.
Tamgas are little understood but fascinating symbols that are a language unto themselves. In some parts of Eastern Europe, they have evolved and become incorporated into their system of heraldry. In the west, the system was simplified and adapted to become the branding ranchers use to identify their livestock. Tamgas seem to have been specific to a tribe or clan and were used to mark personal items and livestock (roman images of scythian/sarmatian horses show them with tamgas brands) and they even appear in groups on petroglyphs, perhaps in commemoration of momentous events, treaties, or other gatherings. The complete scope of how and why they were used is still a mystery, as is what the different symbols mean, if anything. I have my own wild and only vaguely supported hypothesis that the enigmatic symbols depicted on the Pictish stones could be based on tamgas, as they have no antecedents in local iconography until well after the Roman period and contact with the Sarmatians, and several of the designs have reflexes in tamga symbols elsewhere. Far-fetched and totally baseless? Sure, but then so are everyone else’s theories about the Picts, and mine is more fun. What if…? But I digress.
Above, an Asturian Cavalryman from northwestern Spain spears some unfortunate guy. The Asturians were said to be excellent horsemen. Pliny the Elder remarked on their horses that they were small and did not trot, but moved with an easy gait, which makes me wonder if they were the forerunners of the Spanish Jennet or Paso Fino.
Apollo (Celtic Maponus) with his lyre, maybe wondering where is audience has gone…
Daily Necessities: The Romans were not so very different from us
Ribchester Parade Helmet
This is one of the most famous Roman objects ever found in Britain, which is why this little museum only houses a replica.
Overall, there are enough ruins on the ground to make the trip worthwhile, as well as a nice little museum (erroneous guide information aside) to give a hint of life at the fort during its long occupation. Most of all, there is something special about doing the on-the-ground detective work of tracking down and visiting the places I’ve read about in person, seeing and touching them, walking where Sarmatian cavalrymen walked 2,000 years ago. Perhaps even looking on the same objects, columns, and carvings they did. These are the first, small steps in understanding the lives and experiences of people who we will never meet. Inadequate, yes, but it’s the best we have, and I’m grateful to have even that much.