Our fullest account, indeed the only account of any length, of the Roman invasion of Britain in a.d. 43 appears in the Roman History of Cassius Dio, composed from earlier sources in the third century. Not surprisingly, this is taken as providing a narrative framework for the events of the invasion. However, Dio's account omits or is unclear about even major matters of importance: in recent years, for example, there has been a debate over whether the army commanded by Aulus Plautius actually landed in Kent or in Sussex. A brief notice of the invasion appears in the Breviarium of the fourth-century writer Eutropius. The significance of what Eutropius wrote is examined below and its importance for the strategy of the invasion is assessed.

Most students of Roman frontiers are familiar with the idea that, before the construction of Hadrian's Wall in c. 122, a system of frontier control had developed on the Tyne—Solway isthmus under Trajan, particularly after the withdrawal of the Roman army from southern Scotland in c. 105 (FIG. 1). A road running between Corbridge and Carlisle, known in medieval times as the Stanegate, has generally been seen as the basic component of this Trajanic frontier. The idea of the Stanegate road as a frontier originated with Forster, was developed by Collingwood, and the schedule of sites along it was formalised by Birley, who proposed a regular Stanegate system of forts at intervals of half a day's march, alternating with fortlets.

The Hadrianic fort at Maryport in Cumbria is well known for the large series of altars found in its vicinity, including twenty dedicated to Jupiter Optimus Maximus (RIB 815–31, 833–35) and one to Jupiter Augustus (RIB 814). Of these, sixteen were dedicated by cohors i Hispanorum equitata and its successive commanders; they are thought to be annual dedications made either on 3 January or on the anniversary of the emperors succession. Four of these altars were dedicated by M. Maenius Agrippa, and four by C. Caballius Priscus, both of whom are recorded as holding the rank of tribune; four other commanders have the rank of prefect, save one who might have been a centurion in temporary command as praepositus. If the dedications are annual, a total of fourteen or fifteen years is involved. As prefects normally commanded cohorts five hundred strong while milliary cohorts were commanded by tribunes, it has often been suggested that cohors i Hispanorum during Hadrian's reign had been doubled in strength for about eight years, only later to be reduced again to its original size. The cohort had been in Britain at least since the Flavian period, when it is recorded at Ardoch (RIB 2213); but its expansion to milliary strength under Hadrian, ifit occurred at all, which in this paper I suggest it did not, would probably have happened c. A.D. 125, because the newly built fort at Maryport at c. 1.9 ha is too large to have been planned for a quingenary unit. The forts of these units normally averaged c. 1.5 ha, whereas Maryport approaches the average for milliary cohorts of c. 2 ha. The reduction of the cohort back to its original strength, it has been argued, would have taken place in the early 130s, when a detachment may have been sent to serve in the Jewish War, which broke out in 132.

In the past decade there has been a growing acceptance that aspects of Romano-British religious or ritual life can often be detected in unusual deposits that have no overtly religious content. This has led to a debate about the nature of precious metal hoards. Should they be seen as one aspect of this ‘ritual’ behaviour, or did the motives often come from the need for safe keeping with a variety of patterns being observable? Though those favouring a more ritual interpretation of the hoards have stressed the need to view them alongside other special deposits of non-precious material, there has been little attempt to set individual hoards within the context of the more general material culture in use at the time of their deposition. It will always be difficult to set spectacular finds such as the Hoxne treasure against the background of what is common as a site find, but it is possible to do this for the more modest hoards. This paper is an exploration of one such class of hoard, those with snake jewellery. At one level these can be interpreted as simply safe-keeping hoards of various types. If the jewellery is placed within the wider context of contemporary patterns of personal ornament, however, anomalies are revealed that make such straightforward interpretations difficult to sustain.

The tradition of amphora manufacture within Egypt is a long one, covering the period from Pharaonic times through to the Arab period and even continuing into the modern era. Throughout this time clays from the Nile and Delta regions were especially exploited to produce amphorae. Thus many of these large transport vessels from different periods share the same distinctive drab chocolate-brown fabric (centring around Munsell 10YR 4/4), enlivened by occasional plates of golden mica, small pieces of white limestone, and frequent elongate voids which once held organic material burnt out during firing. Interestingly enough, these same clay sources are still in use today.

In 1993 excavations were undertaken at Ochre Brook, Tarbock, about 13 km east of Liverpool, in advance of the construction of the M57–A562 link-road, by R.W. Cowell and R.A. Philpott of the Field Archaeology Section of Liverpool Museum. The work located fragments of two enclosure ditches, a western entrance, and part of the interior of one enclosure, features generally similar to the boundary ditches often associated with rural settlements. However, inside the enclosure was a more or less rectangular building, 11.2 by 5.85–6.9 m in dimensions, its post-holes packed with stone and tile. From pits to the north of the building and from the fills of the enclosure ditches were recovered over 320 kg of apparently unused tile, including many underfired fragments and distorted over-fired waste, as well as burnt clay debris, mostly oxidised. There was, in addition, a relatively small amount of rather crudely made pottery (about 7.5 kg), some underfired. Petrological analyses by David Williams (University of Southampton) suggested that both the pottery and the tile had probably utilised the same basic clay source. Among the mostly orange fired clay debris examined by V.S., were several oxidised fragments of obvious kiln structure, the largest piece comprising the probable junction of the lining-wall of a kiln chamber and its protruding pier or pilaster. Though no actual kiln structure was found in situ in the area excavated, the evidence in toto strongly suggests that tile manufacture had taken place somewhere in the immediate vicinity, with perhaps a small amount of pottery being made simultaneously, in non-commercial quantities.

Areas of coastal marshland formed an important and distinctive part of the landscape of Roman Britain, and current work is showing that different wetlands were utilised in very different ways. Some areas, for example in Essex and Kent, were simply exploited for their natural resources to produce salt and support seasonal grazing. Parts of Fenland were also used in this way, though the higher coastal siltlands were modified through the creation of drainage systems in order to improve agricultural opportunities within a landscape that was still liable to tidal flooding. A third strategy towards wetland exploitation is reclamation: a major transformation of the natural environment, involving the construction of a sea wall along the coast to keep tidal waters out and a system of drainage ditches cut into the surface of the former saltmarsh to lower the water table and remove surface run-off from the surrounding uplands.

In 1992 a remarkable collection of metalwork was discovered at Quidney Farm by Jim McLean a local metal detectorist. The finds came from two discrete areas of a field which is c 8 hectares in size and located to the north of the farm in Saham Toney parish (FIGS 1 and 2). From a small area (Findspot A, FIG. 3) four complete bronze terrets or harness rings and a fifth broken and incomplete terret, an enamelled roundel, a plate brooch, and an iron axe head were found. The other group of artefacts, found together (Findspot B, FIG. 3), consisted of two copper-alloy horse bits, an iron and copper-alloy linch pin, a pair of iron manacles, and other fragments of metal, mainly iron, some possibly from a griddle. The finds form part of a rich collection of late Iron Age/ early Roman material found by Mr McLean at Quidney Farm between 1990 and 1993. Recorded under the same site number (County Site 29429) are a miniature terret found approximately 100 m to the west of Findspot A and an Icenian silver coin, boar/horse C type (0.69 g) which was found approximately 150 m to the north-west of the terrets. Also from the site are five Romano-British brooches which date to between A.D. 40 and 60/65. From the south-west end of the same field (recorded as County Site 28294) a total of eight brooches of Romano-British date and an Icenian early Freckenham type gold stater (5.35 g) have been found (FIG. 2a).

The two camps at Dullatur (FIG. 1), near Cumbernauld, lie on a north-facing slope, some 400 m south of the Antonine Wall, between Westerwood and Croy Hill. The excavation was undertaken in 1998 by Headland Archaeology in advance of the development of the site for housing. The work was conducted in accordance with the detailed specification prepared by the West of Scotland Archaeology Service (WoSAS) on behalf of North Lanarkshire Council. The area of the development comprised two zones: one coincident with the site of the two camps and a smaller area (not illustrated) to the north-west.

The concentration of archaeological remains around Ardoch (FIG. 1) arguably represents the best preserved Roman military complex surviving in Scotland. Images of the fort regularly appear in general accounts of the Roman occupation of northern Britain, and the excellent preservation of the fort and parts of the group of temporary camps to the north, combined with the superimposed presence of Flavian, Antonine and possibly Severan constructions, has attracted much academic interest and several previous investigations. The importance of the Ardoch complex is reflected in the extensive areas which are protected by scheduling.

The mosaics of fourth-century Romano-British villas constitute a rich but relatively neglected resource. In this paper, I propose to demonstrate how figured pavements can provide indications of the function of the rooms they decorated.

Hitherto, an approach to the identification of different types of room using mosaics as a prime indicator is one that has not been fully utilised. Major studies of the Roman villa are valuable in their own right but barely touch upon room function. Some important and still-cited articles have concentrated on form rather than function. Other studies have focused upon social aspects of the villa. In recent years comments have been made about how decoration can be used to differentiate space but with little reference to mosaics. As against those studies which hint at the use of mosaics but do not make much of them, Thébert has produced a seminal work addressing function, architecture and decoration, especially mosaics, showing that many illuminating deductions can be made.

In the first decade of the fifth century Gaul and Britain, Spain and Italy all suffered from a succession of barbarian invasions and Roman civil wars. We possess not just one but several literary accounts of the crisis, along with chronicles, poetry, and imperial laws that all help to illuminate its course, but the sequence of events bristles with technical difficulties. These have not been satisfactorily resolved in the countless modern narratives of the period, which regularly depend on one another rather than the ancient sources. The most recent treatment of the topic, by John Drinkwater, appeared in the pages of this journal, and represents a tremendous advance on our understanding of the crisis. Drinkwater's analysis clarifies any number of crucial interpretative points, and should be the first port of call for any one interested in the study of the period. Problems nevertheless remain. Drinkwater's episodic treatment of the period encourages a certain obscurity that a more systematic narrative might dispel, and he relies heavily upon badly understood ancient slanders against the regent Stilicho to underpin important parts of his narrative. What follows is in no sense an attack on Drinkwater's magisterial interpretation of usurpation and crisis, which warrants wholehearted endorsement. Instead, I would like to suggest that the welter of modern literature on the crisis has blinded us to how little we actually know about it, and that only by maintaining a rigorous awareness of what actually appears in the primary sources can we hope to enjoy the fruits of more nuanced interpretation.