My Hadrian’s Wall hike was good, but involved tramping through a lot more sheep poop than I anticipated. Perhaps a lesson I can take with me into my faux-medieval world building. The main thing that I gleaned from reading about the Roman occupation of Britain is that the forts and the towns that grew up around them were so economically and politically intertwined that to take one from the other deeply harmed both sides. The Romans had their baths outside their forts and in the town that stood alongside the fort. But every Roman fort needed a bath, and thus every Roman fort needed a town of locals who they could hire to heat their baths, butcher their meat, sew their shoes, and shod their horses.
My unexpected discovery came from walking through so many Norman castles – completely without planning to – and picking up vocab about halberds, hauberks, gambesons, garderobes, and crenelated parapets. I learned about several styles of helmets for men, armor for horses, and armored helmets for horses (the Roman commander at Vindolanda apparently had a very fancy Arabian steed).
I learned that the great forests of England are no more. They’re all sheep fields now. Full of sheep manure. And Roman ruins.
But also learned that no matter how simple the monument (say, faceless monoliths, like those of the Ring of Brodgar) or even purile its content (like the Viking graffiti of Maeshow Tomb), if it is carved in stone, it will stand the test of time. And the local children will climb on it and make up stories about it, and the outsiders will come as tourists to stare at it and wonder. Objects that are older than human memory inspire wonder in those who behold them.
L.A. Kuemmel 