A puzzle that has lingered at Westminster Abbey for roughly 150 years may be close to an answer. A skeleton buried in a Roman-era stone coffin, with a medieval cross carved on its lid, was almost certainly an abbot, according to a new study reported by Live Science. The author names two possible candidates and leans toward one of them.
The study was written by Warwick Rodwell, the abbey's consultant archaeologist, and published Oct. 21 in the Journal of the British Archaeological Association.
Westminster's chief mason found the sarcophagus in 1869. Experts then discovered that the burial had been looted earlier in that century. The side of the coffin carries a Roman-style carving and a Latin inscription dated to the fourth century. It says that two men, Valerius Superventor and Marcellus, made the coffin for their father, Valerius Amandinus. The lid, however, bears a large Anglo-Saxon cross from the 11th century.
The mismatch suggested that the Roman coffin had been reused hundreds of years later for an important religious figure. For generations, though, nobody expected any bones to remain inside, so the identity question stalled.
That changed in 2016, when the sarcophagus was opened for conservation and a full skeleton turned up. Bioarchaeologist James Langthorne of Pre-Construct Archaeology examined it and wrote in a 2016 report that the person was a middle-aged man of average height. The bones showed signs of osteoarthritis, gout and two healed rib injuries.
The remains had been disturbed over time. A hole had been accidentally made in the skull, and arm and leg bones were mixed up. Radiocarbon dating placed the bones between 987 and 1052, confirming that the Roman coffin was reused in the Middle Ages.
No grave goods were found, which Rodwell suggests may have been stolen in the early 19th century. Even so, he concluded that the man was "almost certainly an abbot" given the dignified burial in a stone coffin with a large cross.
Using the dates of the abbots of Westminster and their time in office, Rodwell identified three possibilities: Wulfsige, abbot from 988 to 993; Ælfwig, abbot from 993 to 1020; and Wulfnoth, abbot from 1020 to 1049. Wulfsige left Westminster to become a bishop elsewhere, so Rodwell considers it unlikely that he was buried at the abbey. That leaves two viable contenders. Rodwell wrote that Ælfwig's earlier life as a monk of Westminster might favor him.
The finding is an informed assessment from a single researcher, not a confirmed identification. Without a name on the tomb, the choice between Ælfwig and Wulfnoth rests on circumstantial reasoning. The study does not claim certainty.
For the public, the result gives a human story to an object that visitors can see. The sarcophagus is on display in the Queen's Diamond Jubilee Galleries at Westminster Abbey. It is also a reminder of how a find from the 1800s can yield new answers when it is re-examined with modern methods such as radiocarbon dating and bone analysis.
Rodwell noted that several mysteries persist. It is unclear why an 11th-century abbot was placed in a recycled Roman coffin. Reusing Roman coffins in this way is extremely unusual, he wrote, and nothing comparable has been found.
One possible explanation lies in the inscription. Its first word, "memoriae," meaning "to the memory," hints that Valerius Amandinus may have been an early Christian. Rodwell wrote that he may have been a significant figure in Roman London, but that nothing is known about his career.
The coffin's origin is also uncertain. It was made from limestone sourced from Oxfordshire, a county in southern England. Rodwell suggested it might once have stood in a Roman mausoleum that was later dug up and moved. He also noted that a villa and its cemetery could lie somewhere near the abbey, still awaiting discovery.
Source: Live Science