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Territoriality and Social Stratification: the Relationship between Neighbourhood and Polity in Anglo-Saxon England

Introduction Many of the papers in this volume have sought to explore the evidence for interactions between the local and the state in the archaeology of everyday practices, including the local economy (Fernández Mier; Carvajal Castro; Vigil-Escalera Guirado), property management (Langlands; Escalona), and burial rites (Chavarria Arnau; Martín Viso). Insomuch as it is discussed, political power in these examples is refracted through the activities of local people. In other cases—particularly noticeable in non-Iberian contributions (e.g. Astill; Ten Harkel; Vésteinsson; Iversen)—political power had a much more direct impact on localities. In areas such as governance, judicial practice, and public building, we can see elites interacting directly with their subjects in order to create and maintain political structures. Perhaps the clearest example of such direct power being imposed from above is in the area of institutionalised violence, especially warfare. In a discussion of nineteenthcentury theories of the emergence of ‘states’ which identified warfare as a major driver leading to frameworks of governance, Morton Fried quoted the Polish sociologist Ludwig Gumplowicz thus: ‘...we first recognise the beginnings of separate immovable property when one horde has overpowered another and uses its labor force.’ Whether or not one accepts violence as the main driver of complexity, this fascinating notion is one that provides a useful starting position for our enquiry here into the relationship between social and territorial organisation. As Fried and subsequently others note, the process of state formation and the monopolisation of authority this entails, has at its heart powerful concepts of territoriality. In view of this general scheme, we are here tasked with explaining how local societies both confronted, and in themselves created, larger scale socio-political entities over the course of the early medieval period. However, our case-study of secondary state formation is quite unlike those ‘pristine’ or ‘primary’ groups from which Fried and many other social anthropologists of the mid-twentieth century formulated their notions of societal development, as social complexity in the early medieval period comprised a melding of concepts and institutions derived from the non-classical Germanic world, from the Roman Empire, and from ‘indigenous’ societies, as well as innovations. The various influences recognised in secondary states discussed in the introduction to this volume— inheritance, re-introduction, direct and indirect hegemony—make it fundamentally important to consider the operation of multi-scalar notions of power and social organisation. These include structures of varying autonomy and authority nested within larger scale ones, ranging from more-or-less formally constituted political entities (‘kingdoms’) to broadly understood and relatively weak social agglomerations with a suprapolity manifestation, but lacking in any sense of large-scale corporate political accountability: these concepts themselves change over time.

broadly agreed timeframe, and, second, internal supra-local divisions within kingdoms that can be related to social and territorial stratification, but which in themselves-at least in part-may also have formed the building blocks of kingdoms. The origins of these latter territorial formations present particular problems of chronology and socio-political context, of which more below.

Territories and social complexity in Anglo-Saxon England
Our aim is to discuss how higher-order articulations of power were reflected in local societies and, conversely, how the constitution of local communities itself may have facilitated the emergence of large-scale powers. Our chronological range includes the emergence of supra-local authority in the English landscape, the period of so-called kingdom formation beginning in the sixth century, up to the creation of the Danelaw and the division of England along ethnic grounds in the ninth century AD, and to the subsequent conquest of this area in the tenth century by the kings of Wessex. Despite the scholarly attention that these topics have received, particularly in the late twentieth century, 9 it is notable that the earliest evidence for the emergence of fixed territories has itself never been comprehensively assembled, with most intellectual enquiries concerned with the histories of individual 'kingdoms' rather than macro-scale overview. Against the backdrop of militarised conquest and defence, geographical and social scale, and organisational demands, we thus explore the circumstances by which fixed territorial entities became established and the nature of the interfaces between the various orders of the increasingly stratified societies of Anglo-Saxon England that can be seen emerging in the archaeological and written record from c. AD 600.
The emergence of kingdoms in Anglo-Saxon England by AD 600 is undoubted. There are, however, two basic models relating to the development of such overarching power. The first describes a process by which small semi-autonomous local groups coalesced to form larger entities over the course of the fifth and sixth centuries, whilst the second suggests the existence of large-scale post-Roman territories, which fragmented into smaller polities in the later sixth century. 10 A complicating factor in assessing the validity of either model is that there are many scales of groupings identifiable on the basis of placenames, written, and archaeological sources. The dynamics behind the emergence of territoriality at the most basic level, however, may well have occurred at the level of the individual and in the context of the fundamental importance of landholding in the maintenance of free status in early Anglo-Saxon society. 11 Scull's discussion of the emergence of supra-local groupings based on material culture distributions notes increasingly observable expressions of cultural identity from the later fifth century in eastern England, which may themselves have resulted from territorial expansion due to a successive generational requirement for land in relation to status in combination with a demographic upsurge. 12 Notwithstanding well-established problems in equating material culture with territorial or group identity, it remains the case that there are significant regional variations in forms of costume and burial practice visible in the archaeological record, particularly of the fifth and early sixth centuries, that may well equate to forms of differential self-identification, whether or not they can be further related to gentes named in sources such as Bede. 13 Further groups have been derived from the source known as the Tribal Hidage (CS 297(?1032)), which lists thirty-three 'folk' groups of probable later seventh-century date, ranging in size from a few large-scale kingdoms assessed in thousands of hides down to much smaller local groupings assessed at only a few hundred (Figure 1). 14 Slightly later grand narrative sources, such as Bede's Historia Ecclesiastica, which mention districts and regions, sometimes by name, sometimes not, also indicate some form of territorial organization, often reckoned in hundreds of hides. 15 Whilst a full discussion of the vocabulary of territoriality during this formative period lies beyond the remit of this paper, it is clear that no consensus exists about the comparability of the regiones and (referring to AEthelberht) territoria noted by Bede, and the various scales of territories found in the Tribal Hidage. 16 By the tenth century, the picture is much clearer with the English landscape organized into regional ealdormanries comprising shires, which were themselves divided into hundreds and then local estates with, in many cases, precisely defined boundaries marked with a wide range of physical markers. 17 One issue is whether the small groupings found in the earliest sources of the seventh and eighth centuries represent a residue of once autonomous local societies characterised by direct rule, subsumed within expanding kingdoms, or conversely, whether they are administrative subdivisions created (or re-created) by expanding polities imposing new forms of ultra-sociality and power. 18 In some cases it is even possible that certain groupings perpetuated underlying Roman systems of administration and economic organization. 19 Suggestions have been made that certain Anglo-Saxon territories, for example the shires of Kent and Worcestershire, closely reflect (at least late) Roman arrangements, 20 but the reality is unknown, with not one Roman territorial entity yet realized in precise terms. Despite this, arguments for the continuity of both large and smallscale Roman territories continue to be advanced in recent discussions citing artefact distributions, place-names, landscape features, and early ecclesiastical jurisdictions, as evidence. 21 Whatever the origins of territorial arrangements, a further important question is whether the kinds of societies that existed between the early fifth and seventh centuries were comparable in terms of their social organization, power structures, and economic bases with what came before. If so, and with continuing social lineage, then one can see how a consciousness of a territorial entity might survive in a formal sense. Without continuing stable social lineage, names might survive as general labels for an area, but without hard and fast physical extents. A notion promoted by scholars is that the tribal groupings of the fifth and earlier sixth centuries were perceived in terms of social (kin-13 These problems of archaeological method were already highlighted by Childe based) associations rather than in fixed territorial terms 22 and it remains that whatever the claims for continuity from late Roman Britain to early Anglo-Saxon England, that administrative and economic infrastructures transmuted to such an extent that tenurial territorial continuity at anything beyond the most local level remains extremely improbable. Large-scale notional-even nostalgic-identities, however, may well have persisted among local communities.
The impact of Germanic influence upon Roman territoriality is a complex matter, but one theme that we have identified elsewhere is that of regional and micro-regional variation. In an Anglo-Saxon context at the level of hundredal territories it has indeed been possible to make a series of nuanced observations. 23 Patterns in the mapping of eleventhcentury Domesday shires and hundreds, and of nineteenth-century parishes suggest very different trajectories of territorial development within the English regions as well as between them, indicating that attempts to identify particular 'moments' for the emergence of elements of administrative geography across the hierarchy of English territorial formations-for example, local estates, hundreds and shires-are rather problematic. 24 One basic issue is that of establishing exactly what constituted an Anglo-Saxon kingdom or an Anglo-Saxon king. Is the matter one of aspiration or actuality? The selfapplication or back-projection of the titularity of rulership sits uneasily with the evidence for large-scale supra-local authority until the late sixth and seventh centuries AD. Furthermore, different definitions can be applied to the same terms of rank at different times across the Anglo-Saxon period. 25 Anglo-Saxon royal genealogies arguably provide an analogue in written form for the physicality of what might be found in the localities at any given time charting, as they seemingly do, a notional and ideologically aspirational path towards a situation which has a clearer basis in reality by the Conversion period, when written sources emerge among the Anglo-Saxon elite, presumably alongside on-going traditions or orally transmitting genealogies and the like. 26 In similar terms, kingship as it worked on the ground surely initially had relatively fluid concepts and intentions, which then became transmuted into entirely different situations as the geographical and social reach of rulership grew over time. This latter point is emphasised by Chris Scull, who notes that there may well have been individuals who considered themselves kings in fifth and sixth-century Anglo-Saxon society, but that contemporary Frankish rulers, or indeed seventh-century English kings, would perhaps have viewed them in a rather different light. 27 Work in the last twenty years suggests that early medieval kingship-certainly in England into the eighth century-was relatively weak. 28 These impressions, however, must be assessed alongside the evidence for large-scale conceptions of bounded space and a consideration of those individuals that were best placed to realise these -effectively elites. Insofar as existing discussions have considered the nature of middle Anglo-Saxon landholding, they describe a picture in which political authority was differentially spread over territories. 29 Although there is no clear agreement that emerges from these views on the precise types of rights exercised by kings, there is broad consensus that they varied from area to area, and were shared, in many cases, with other lords. 30 The process by which this form of heterogeneous rule became coterminous with clearly defined territory is imperfectly understood, but the effects of this process are potentially observable in landscape terms.

Layered and overlapping territoriality in the central first millennium AD
To date most discussions have focused on identifying the emergence, or at most the very existence of the earliest local territories. Much less attention has been paid to their persistence and the process by which they became subsumed within late Anglo-Saxon administrative geography. As we have noted above, different scales of territoriality are evident across the Anglo-Saxon period and are perceptible in landscape evidence. Group names such as ingas, -inga-('the people of…, the people called after…') and sǣte ('settlers, dwellers'), some of which were probably formed in the early part of our period, are preserved in a range of place-names and in Domesday hundred names (Figure 3). Whilst there is not a single documented English kingdom with an -ingas name, even though we know that ruling dynasties could be termed in such a way (for example the Oiscingas of Kent or the Wuffings of East Anglia), such names do survive in clusters of place-names suggestive of local territories. 31 This aspect has interesting implications and it is perhaps significant that the Tribal Hidage itself could be argued not to list 'kingdoms' per-se, but a mixture of both kingdoms and the tribal lands of groups subject to their hegemony. Following absorption into a larger polity, certain tribal lands could have remained in the possession of tribal dynasties, perhaps because consolidation of lands gained by expanding kingdoms was more effectively achieved in those cases by exploiting existing structures of social control than imposing new ones. 32 Surviving -ingas and -inga-names, for example, might well reflect territories whose elites retained, or at least continued to occupy, their lands following conquest or hegemony.
Families whose dynasties forged and retained the larger kingdoms may go some way to explaining the ragged character that we have identified for the core areas of early polities as a reflection of long-term piecemeal land transactions. 33 The leaders of such groupings perhaps formed the earliest incarnation of the thegns and gesiths who appear with increasing clarity in written sources from the seventh century onwards, and whose role and status changed over time in relation to increasing social ranking and attendant responsibility. 34 Baker,Brookes,and Reynolds,eds,Landscapes of Governance. 34 In this regard it is instructive to note that at the beginning hereditary transmission of landowning was by no means guaranteed. While hereditary lands were normally transferred without charter-writing, early charters nevertheless sometimes record land grants for only one lifetime (e.g. S62; S79; Ine's lawcode also includes a clause relating that: 'If a nobleman moves his residence he may take with him his reeve, his smith, and his children's nurse' (I63)), and other sources indicate the spatial mobility of seventh-century elites. Archaeological reflections of short-lived occupations can be observed at a range of sites, particularly of later sixth and seventh century date. It is quite possible that among the known 'elite' residences of the later sixth and seventh centuries are places that were the centres of estates occupied for fixed periods of time. (See, Welch, Anglo-Saxon England, pp. 50-51; Reynolds, 'Boundaries and settlements in Later Sixth to Eleventh-Century England', p. 103). Various clauses in the late seventh-century law code of Ine, King of the West Saxons, refer to the ownership of land reckoned in hides: a feature notably absent from the earlier and and eighth century) tribal groupings were absorbed into larger kingdoms-through military conquest, dynastic takeover, etc.-we might expect reflections of the larger whole in later administrative geography, which is what appears to have been the case in regard to the sǣtan regions of western Britain, which display a remarkably regular (i.e. ? late) form and character. 35 Although territorial boundaries are not explicitly mentioned in the earliest sources, some form of territorial delineation is implied. The Tribal Hidage enumerates lands that were within the domains of the listed groups, supporting the idea that territorial units existed which were reckonable in terms of their productive capacity and thus also their physical extent. 36 From the late seventh century come the earliest reliable land charters or diploma, relating to estates which appear comparable in extent to other territories of this period which are reconstructed using various sources, including place-names and the limits where known of the lands of the earliest minster churches. 37 Ultimately, given the varied origins of the territorial framework of later seventh-century England, there is no good reason to expect consistency in extent or morphology, particularly when land productivity and topographical variation are taken into account. As noted above, even a quick glance at a map of the historical geography of English territoriality at once reveals marked variation rather than consistency; a feature which is the case, whether looking at shires, hundreds or parishes.
If England prior to the creation of shires-and that chronological horizon is less than clearly defined-was characterized by regiones of varying scales, then some attempt to establish their longevity is necessary in order to understand the emergence of hundreds and their names (either as a result of straightforward continuation of the geographical extent of an existing territory or by reorganization of lands at a more fundamental level) (Figure 2). It seems that both processes could occur within localized areas as well as between territories.
Two eleventh-century boundary clauses hint that such subject polities could have been relatively well defined. A brief record of the diocesan boundary of Rochester and Canterbury is itself undated, although probably written in the 1030s. 38 A nearly contemporary charter records the boundary of the diocese of Hereford and Worcester. 39 In the case of the former-and probably the latter-there are strong grounds for believing that these boundary clauses describe limits that had also existed between much earlier polities. The diocese of Rochester and Canterbury equate with the territories of the kingdoms of West and East Kent respectively, the shared rule of which is attested in a system of dual kingship recorded throughout the seventh and eighth centuries. 40 Perhaps significantly, all of the landmarks mentioned in the clause refer either to natural features (the boundary starts at hansfleot, the name of a tidal stream, and for much of its course follows a minor river -the Teise) or ones with a Romano-British association (the sandhlincan 'sand ridge or lynchet' and wic were both beside Roman roads, and the cortan appears to have been an enclosed Roman farm), perhaps hinting at the antiquity of the contemporary Kentish laws (Laws of Ine, Liebermann, ed., Die Gesetze der Angelsachsen; The Laws of the Earliest English Kings). For a discussion of the changing roles of gesiths and thegns across the Anglo-Saxon period, see Loyn, 'Gesiths and Thegns in Anglo-Saxon England'. 35

Large-scale boundaries
We move on now to consider the evidence for large-scale provincial and kingdom-level boundaries in the English landscape, existing as enduring humanly-made features, including linear earthworks and dykes, and natural boundaries such as rivers, mountain ranges, and coastlines, alongside treaty lines and borders documented in written sources. Before we consider our examples, however, a few observations must be made. While charters and grand narrative sources provide descriptions of fixed boundaries, physical borders (earthworks, dykes, etc.) pose two particular problems: first, that of hierarchical/functional scale; and second, that of visibility to the modern observer. To clarify, the first point requires a consideration of the nature of the boundary in question and a multi-vocal approach applies here. 43 For example, a simple hedge may be just that to a slave charged with seasonal hedge-laying duties, while the same barrier might represent the limit of another's holdings, or perhaps it may also mark the limit of a self-contained judicial territory of supra-local significance, or that of a shire or even a kingdom. In other words, what kind of boundary is the focus of a given study? The second key issue for the landscape historian refers to visibility, in other words, to what degree is it possible to identify the conceptual/legal status of boundaries when written evidence is sparse or lacking? The substantial linear earthworks such as Offa's Dyke, or the numerous Cambridgeshire dykes, are obviously boundary markers of considerable import with clear socio-political implications, but otherwise how might we identify hierarchies of boundaries? Are there specific sets of human behaviours that take place in boundary locations or on boundaries of particular kinds? This last point brings us back to one of our aims in this paper, as noted in the Introduction above, which is to extend existing notions of territoriality by identifying events that occur specifically, or at least commonly in boundary regions. These include armed conflicts between polities, assemblies or meetings, executions and market places. Such 'boundary behaviours' all characterise a marked phase in the development of territoriality to which we return in discussion.
With regard to large-scale conceptions of linear frontiers, we consider three examples: Offa's Dyke and Wansdyke as highly visible frontier earthworks, and the boundary of the Danelaw; all being attempts to set out long-distance linear boundaries in relation to existing topography.

Dykes
The major linear earthworks Offa's Dyke and Wansdyke undoubtedly formed major frontier markers (Figure 4). The scale of their construction dictates a large-scale conception of space, in each case by a major polity. We will not rehearse the details of each frontier here, these are available elsewhere, 44 but pick up on several features which allow the dykes to be viewed as crucial interfaces between neighbourhood and polity. One of us has argued elsewhere that both earthworks may be placed within a similar chronological horizon, most likely in the eighth century. 45 Clearly, the construction of such earthworks 41 Brooks, 'An early boundary'. 42 Hooke, Worcestershire Anglo-Saxon Charter Bounds, p. 422. 43 Reynolds, 'Meaningful Landscapes', pp. 412-3. 44 Reynolds and Langlands, 'An Early Medieval Frontier'; Hill and Worthington, Offa's Dyke. 45 Reynolds and Langlands, 'An Early Medieval Frontier', pp. 33-4. See also the fascinating discussion by Cyril Fox of the name of Wat's Dyke, the earlier counterpart to Offa's Dyke running from the Dee Estuary in the north to the mid-Severn. Fox presents intriguing and convincing evidence to suggest that the name be involved local communities, drawn into such building programmes by association with local territories upon which military obligations were placed -in Mercia a practice documented from the eighth century. 46 In this regard alone the collective act of construction would have brought local people sharply in contact with large-scale polity. Local landscapes through which such earthworks passed were indelibly altered leaving a powerful physical manifestation of the ability of polities to realise the capacity of neighbourhoods. The naming of these two particular earthworks is particularly significant with the figures of (the probably 6 th -century eponymous ancestor) Offa and Woden both cast as ancestors in the Mercian and West Saxon royal genealogies. 47 Here we may well be witnessing the conscious implanting of genealogy in landscape and in the minds of local populations. While local people living at the physical margins of these societies may never have been aware of the textual equivalent of royal genealogies, they were perhaps familiar with versions of their oral rendering. Embedding genealogical figures in landscape through the act of collective construction and on such a scale was arguably a powerful and multidimensional means of forging large-scale socio-political identity squarely in the neighbourhood context.
The link between boundaries and ritual-cosmological royal ancestors creates a place for kingly and elite conduct in determining cultural change. By emphasising their position in controlling institutions and processes, kings became, in effect, the 'governors' of a culture in both a ritual-political and mechanical sense. Kings, one could argue, were placing themselves, both conceptually and physically at the boundaries between people. In a very real sense kingdom formation necessitated the 'territorialisation' of cultural identity, in which royal symbols were pushed to the frontiers of society. This was not mere symbolism. All indications suggest that these boundaries were porous features designed to control broader frontier relations. 48 The physical evidence for communications, cross-border routeways and controlled entry points can be regarded as going hand-in-hand with other developments during the seventh and eighth centuries such as the introduction of specialised trading settlements, or wics, small-denomination coinage, and specialised rural estates, which together must be seen as a form of control over landed resources which in turn aided the formation of both a financially-independent elite and the state as a legitimising framework. 49 In this way linear boundaries benefited both the kings whose names they preserved, and the elites charged with maintaining and policing the emerging state.

The Danelaw boundary: uncomfortable neighbours
At face value, the so-called Treaty of Alfred and Guthrum marked a significant easing of hostility between two enemies who had been in confrontation for several decades. Agreed between King Alfred of Wessex and his Danish adversary Guthrum following the latter's defeat at the hands of the former at Edington in Wiltshire in 878, the treaty itself was drawn up sometime after the Viking withdrawal from Wessex and subsequent occupation of East Anglia in 880 and before Guthrum's death in 890. 50 Along with a series of provisions set out to ensure equitable relations between the two peoples, the text-of which two variants survive in the same manuscript 51 -describes a precise dividing line equated with the Old English legendary figure Wade, who is himself associated with the heroic Offa in Walter Map's De Nugis Curialium (1182x93): Fox, Offa's Dyke, pp. 287-8. 46 Brooks, 'The development of military obligations in eighth-and ninth-century England'. 47  between the two new kingdoms, greater Wessex, including English Mercia, in the west and the region under Danish law, the Danelag in the east (Figure 4). The forward-looking nature of the treaty and its content, in contrast to the (largely) conservative nature of King Alfred's substantial lawcode (interestingly, probably the later text) 52 -highlights the particularity of the Treaty. Although the significance of this frontier has been overemphasised in chronological terms 53 -it was after all only a short-lived artefact-for a brief decade the détente between Alfred and Guthrum existed in the formulation of a clear geo-political reality. 54 In an Anglo-Saxon context the innovative nature of the Alfred-Guthrum treaty is most commonly interpreted within an historically contingent framework, in itself a perfectly sensible approach, yet there are wider perspectives drawn from other social science disciplines that can shed new light on the nature of large-scale territoriality, its emergence and its implications with regard to assessing early medieval power relations between local people and elites across increasing social and geographical distance. It is important to remember that in his treaty with Guthrum Alfred was legislating not only with regard to the Danes, but also in relation to his new Mercian subjects and it is interesting here that even when presented with a huge buffer territory between the Viking-controlled area and the core shires of Wessex that a hard and fast line was deemed the most appropriate. It is also worth noting that the distribution of several strongholds attributable to Alfred as listed in the Burghal Hidage lie along the River Thames, reflecting the 'linear' defensive strategy of the core shires of Wessex. 55 In this sense, Alfred can be seen to have laid out two frontiers, one related to the core of his kingdom and the other to its periphery, 56 but markedly different from each other: one comprising forts and the control of river crossings, the other marking a line arguably driven by the need for jurisdictional clarity.
The nature of the Alfred-Guthrum treaty was surely inspired in part by the need to establish a framework for co-existence along a considerable frontier between peer polities under the sovereignty of two distinct groups of elites with fundamental differences of language, religion, custom, law, lineage and, not least, entirely contrasting ties to the landscape divided by the linear frontier described in the treaty. By contrast, the nature of expressions of cultural identity, which of course include law and other customs, among the Danelaw Mercians and other local populations adjacent to the treaty line is unclear. 57 Given the potential frailty of loyalties in this border zone, combined with the events which led to the partition of southern England in Wessex and the Danelaw, one might reasonably expect cultural tensions to have been particularly heightened in this case, necessitating a frontier indisputable in its course.  The king [Alfred] had divided his army [his fierd] in two, so that always half of its men were at home, half on service, apart from the men who guarded the boroughs [butan thaem monnum the tha burga healden scolden].

Re-territorialisation in the southern Danelaw
The physical links here made between levies and strongholds-a connection reinforced explicitly in the Burghal Hidage list of c. 914-8-required new forms of territorial delineation. If land-holders were obligated to aid in the defence of boroughs, explicit connections needed to be made between strongholds and the shires or burghal territories for which they were responsible. 58 In a recent book Jeremy Haslam has attempted, with some success, to reconstruct from evidence in Domesday Book some of the original burghal territories of Wessex and English Mercia. He argues that this administrative geography can be used to explain systems of territorial governance that existed before the Domesday shires came into being. Using different evidence, that of the pattern of Domesday hundreds and their meeting places, Baker and Brookes have similarly argued that landscape evidence provides important clues for this process of territorialisation. 59 Using a series of case studies from the area of the southern Danelaw alongside the Guthrum-Alfred treaty, they suggest that the hundredal geography as rubricated from Domesday Book was not the first major administrative division of the region. In the east of Hertfordshire, a group of hundreds appear to incorporate the middle Anglo-Saxon estates of Braughing and Bennington, to form a discrete territory from another in the west, which comprised what later became the hundred of Daneis ('a Dane' or 'Danes') and the minster hundred of Albanstow. 60 In a similar fashion, discrete territories based on burhs can be reconstructed within what would later become the shires of Cambridgeshire, Derbyshire, and Nottinghamshire, and comprising the whole of Huntingdonshire and Leicestershire (Figure 5). 61 In each case these burghal territories are remarkably regular in form and Domesday hidation strongly suggesting they were the result of a single moment of administrative re-planning, probably datable to the tenth century when the burhs were founded.
Significantly, these 'burghal territories' often existed alongside areas which were contained within the shire, but fell outside core administration. These administratively marginal areas, including the Isle of Ely, the Derbyshire Peaks, and the area of Sherwood Forest, appear only to have become fully part of the Domesday shires as the result of centrifugal forces extending administrative power outwards from the earlier burghal core. In other cases hundred names appear to indicate some attempt to accommodate local Scandinavian populations. Two of the four hundreds of Huntingdonshire-in some ways the archetypal burghal territory-are named after existing settlements named in Old English: Leightonstone ('Stone of Leighton'; Leighton < OE lēac-tūn 'herb garden'(?)); Hurstingstone 'Stone of the people of *Hyrst', i.e. of (Wood)hurst < OE hyrst 'wooded slope'). Two others are named in or after Viking settlements (l.9 th /10 th ): Toseland ('Toli's/Toglos' grove' < Tóli pers. name in ONorw but more common in ODan + ONlundr 'grove' probably with the heathen religious associations attached to it; Normancross: a description of Northmen or Vikings, and possibly coined in ON). Set alongside the 58 Vestiges of this system may be visible in Domesday Book which records urban (burghal) tenements appurtenant to rural manors. Maitland's interpretation of this system has subsequently become known as the 'garrison theory', Maitland,Domesday book and beyond,Haslam, Baker and Brookes, 'Governance at the Anglo-Scandinavian interface'; Baker, 'Hertfordshire Hundreds'. 60 Baker, 'Hertfordshire Hundreds'. 61 Baker and Brookes, 'Governance at the Anglo-Scandinavian interface'.
Hertfordshire hundred of Daneis these names appear to indicate that the administrative territories of this region were established with some sympathy for pre-existing territorial groupings, including also those of Scandinavian origin.

Beyond boundaries
That most exceptional source for the study of bounded space in Anglo-Saxon England, the land charter, provides excellent evidence for early land division. While the mass of these documents relate to small-scale localities some general observations are necessary, as this key material allows us to enter the Anglo-Saxon mental arena from a late seventh-century perspective and for the first time gain a view of how land-of varying scale-was conceptualised. The earliest charters show beyond doubt that there were clear notions of bounded space. The very earliest reliable English land charter of King Hlothere of Kent's reign describes the extent of the estate as being the same as that in earlier times, 62 suggests that this was implicit in other boundary descriptions, however vague they may seem to modern observers, with their reliance on the cardinal points of the compass. The matter of the navigation of space is central here. It is clear from a range of sources for the emergence of legal culture-namely law-codes and archaeological evidence-that jurisdiction and legal responsibility begin to acquire a territorial, or at least spatially distinct, aspect from c. 600. The Kentish law-code of King AEthelberht refers to the fencing of a man's enclosure (presumably a farmstead) from c. 600, a feature which is also found in the earliest West Saxon law code of King Ine of the late seventh century. 63 The appearance of boundaries in settlements sites is also attested by archaeology from the late sixth and seventh centuries. 64 Archaeological evidence from both isolated burials and from formal execution cemeteries shows that sixth (isolated burials only), seventh and eighth century (isolated burials and execution cemeteries) examples, all lie upon boundaries that were those of either local estates, hundreds and/or shires and kingdoms by the time of the Domesday survey. 65 Although these entities represent a range of different scales of land units, the general point to be taken is the same and, in many ways, is one of the most significant observations to be drawn from the study of deviant burials. It is strongly suggestive-and it can be no coincidence-that boundaries of unequivocal significance by the mid-eleventh century were significantly distinct as to be marked by burials from a much earlier period; indeed they can be related to the emergence and consolidation of the earliest English kingdoms. Sarah Semple and John Blair, in particular have noted how high-status 'sentinel' burials are found in later sixth and seventh century England, apparently marking the limits of group territories, 66 with Blair noting apparent similarities with the Irish and 'British' pattern (as described by Charles-Edwards and O'Brien) 67 of marking burials with 'powerful' individuals who 'protect' their territories. 68 One of us has argued elsewhere that the Anglo-Saxon attitude to boundary burial is somewhat different, as it appears to include high-status individuals until the Conversion or thereabouts, but thereafter boundary burials are of social outcasts. 69 Blair too picks up on the retraction of visibility of secular elite burials to ecclesiastical sites during the Conversion period, although high-concentrations of early minster churches in certain prominent boundary zones-for example the Thames Valley-indicate a continuing placing of high-status elite burials at the margins of territories, but in a churchyard setting. 70 Both Charles-Edwards and Blair note that the draw for elites to be buried in churchyards lay in the proximity to holy relics, yet it can be suggested that in certain cases existing traditions of territorial boundary burial were continued by the placing of minsters in such locales. 71 Indeed, the border location of minsters is most evocatively demonstrated in the seventh-century privileges granted to the abbot of Malmesbury, which were used to guarantee the community's safety in the wars between the West Saxons and Mercia. 72 The emergence of territoriality then can be found not just in the physicality of linear frontiers but also in a series of other actions that characterise such locations: deviant burials, assemblies, battles, weapon deposits and so on, visible from the late sixth century and continuing as social and political practices throughout our period. 73 Some of these features are perhaps best connected to territorial formations which might be regarded in terms of what Demsetz calls 'traditional' or 'indigenous' property, that is to say communal forms of ownership. 74 Their archaeological manifestation relates therefore squarely to how we might understand regiones and other territories named in the sources. These forms of territory can be contrasted with those of private property whose main concern is the definition of more narrowly focused self-interests. If they are understood as propagating familial interests sentinel burials may record the first emergence of such sectional concerns; alternatively these elites may have been visibly placed in the pursuit of communal territorialisation, particularly rights over resources. Demsetz's model of property argues that 'private' property emerges from 'traditional' property as the result of the internalisation of externalities; that is change over property is in order to balance wider social costs or benefits. 75 Different scholars have argued that such agencies underpinned both the explosion in North Sea trade and the emergence of military obligation during the middle Anglo-Saxon period. 76 We return to these ideas in conclusion.

Discussion
This paper has attempted to argue several things. Most obviously it suggests that the various territorial entities recorded in Domesday Book (and after in nineteenth-century Ordnance Survey mapping) are a palimpsest of multiple incremental changes that marked transitions from one kind of territoriality to another. In the case-study of Anglo-Saxon England described here these shifts can be identified and related to longer-term evolution of local administrative geography in relation to the tripartite definition provided by Sack discussed in the introduction to this paper (Figure 6). Primary Administrative Frameworks -later sixth century onwards (Sack's 'definition by area/presence') Locales of power that developed during the earliest period of kingdom formation, such as Sutton Hoo and Yeavering, can be seen to have functioned as loose agglomerations of functions which together formed embryonic administrative networks (which we here term Primary Administrative Frameworks -PAFs). These heartlands provided the initial stable basis both for territorial expansion and the principles of the polity as an association. We have argued elsewhere that core areas of documented early polities often appear in later sources with a highly irregular pattern of land holding. This pattern is indicative of relative stability with slow piecemeal changes over time taking place in combination with long-term land tenure by individual families. 77 In each case, PAFs and their associated territories appear as networks of coherent jurisdiction existing alongside concepts of less clearly delineated territoriality (i.e. 'traditional lands'). Certainly at first most PAFs are unlikely to have achieved full spatial consolidation and their constituent parts were interspersed by relatively autonomous freemen, common rights holders and other communities. Of course there may have been considerable movement between these groupings as people came together periodically to work, trade and social exchange. The taxing and regulation of these informal links underpin their incorporation into Dispersed Administrative Frameworks (below).
Although separated by zones, commonly defined by terrain and land cover, these places in-between might themselves have acquired a measure of distinct identity as encapsulated in some group names (e.g. -inga). The example of Daneis suggests that as late as the tenth century inhabitants of such zones could be identified in contradistinction to PAFs. Smaller groups mentioned in the Tribal Hidage may relate to districts of this kind. Some naming practices similarly appear to articulate these tensions between economic integration and social distinctiveness. The territory of the Cilternsǣte ('Chiltern Dwellers') for example-a people mentioned in the Tribal Hidage list-has been argued to be fossilized in 4½ Chiltern hundreds (Ewelme, Pyrton, Lewknor, Binfield, and Langtree) whose 'soke' (or jurisdiction) remained attached to the royal vill of Benson beyond the Middle Ages. 78 In contrast to group names, personal names given to districts may provide evidence for the ways in which kings delegated rights of administration to key personnel, or incorporated powerful families within expanding hegemony. It seems probable that these names record those with the ability to make authoritative decisions locally and were charged with the maintenance of order and the enforcement of authority. Carvajal Castro (this volume) notes that the village headmen gave his name to the villa territory in which it is associated; it was his identity that differentiated one group from another. 79 Something similar to this process may well be observable archaeologically in certain of the 'sentinel' burials of 6 th -and 7 th -century date which, we have suggested, may also include the early Thames Valley minsters of Cookham, Abingdon, Oxford, Malmesbury, Bath, Reading.
Dispersed Administrative Frameworks -seventh century onwards (Sack's 'communication via marker, sign or symbol') In the contexts of continuity, conquest, hegemony and obligation subsequent phases of administrative absorption and realignment occurred in regions into which these early polities expanded. This second phase is marked by the appearance of consciously dispersed administrative functions (Dispersed Administrative Frameworks -DAFs) in which key institutions were deliberately ranged widely over regions in contrast to the more centralised PAFs. Whilst conflict and coercion are commonly regarded as drivers of changes in the seventh and eighth centuries, in evolutionary ecology such dispersed systems can be explained as the result of cooperative rather than simply coercive strategies. 80 Cooperative behaviour emerges particularly when group size increases and indeed many cooperative 77 Baker, Brookes, and Reynolds, eds, Landscapes of Governance. 78  strategies can be seen to underpin changes witnessed at this time, including multiple estates ('central-place sharing'), the greater visibility of punishment, and 'segmented hierarchies' in which new nested hierarchies of officers emerged to support overarching authority. 81 Dispersed institutions and the interconnections and movements between them together formed a cooperative system played out in local landscapes.
DAFs had at least two significant effects with regard to the evolution of territories. First, they encouraged the development of local officials charged with implementing royal decree in the localities. In complex societies this devolution of power commonly forces small-scale leaders to institutionalise their position in order to restrict the emergence of other natural local leaders. 82 One manifestation of this may be elites opting to take up private property from formerly 'traditional' lands. A second effect of dispersed institutions is the increased scope for the elaboration of symbolic systems. 83 In Inomata and Coben's view, the development of large polities would have been impossible without the public spectacle of political power; 84 royal assemblies, public judicial procedures, major building projects were all part of this process. The creation and formalisation of overarching ideological symbols in turn supported greater cooperation. Establishing and memorialising national identity on the large scale inculcated local people -and particularly those in border regions. While we have no idea from how widely the workforces for the construction of major frontiers like Offa's Dyke and Wansdyke were drawn from, they surely involved communities adjacent to them along the full extent of the earthworks themselves and, if we assume that the naming of such earthworks was widely known (as the charter evidence certainly implies), then here we have evidence for a top-down politico-military undertaking bringing a large-scale social identity to people who lived hundreds of miles apart, but who equally confronted cultural others.

Regularised Administrative Frameworks -eighth century onwards (Mercia)(Sack's
notion of 'enforcement') By the tenth century, social hierarchisation is such that social reach is considerable. Local territories are regularised in ways that cross-cut earlier kin-based groupings. Territorial hierarchy is clearer than before, and includes the re-definition of the thegnly (aristocratic) class and the creation of highly visible local lordship. 85 The relationship between polity and neighbourhood is no longer kin-based, but dependent on a raft of officials, whilst the practices of governance are fully constituted in landscape. The 'manorialisation' of the English countryside in the tenth century, followed by a tendency towards nucleated administrative agencies in towns in the eleventh century brings new forms of social organisation.
In the examples listed in this paper, conflict and its aftermaths can be seen to be important drivers of territorial change in this phase. Central to this political work was the formal linking of territory with the military apparatus of the state. 86 The creation of new artificial territorial constructs based on burhs is an important moment in the creation of territorial administrative units rationalising to some degree more haphazard older arrangements. In the area of the conquered Danelaw these give the impression of being laid out in a single moment of territorial re-planning-most probably the early tenth century-but even here there are places excluded from the formal centralised system. Some of these territories appear to have been marginal, or ethnically-legally distinct from main territorial institutions. Political power seems to have been enforced on localities not only through occupation, but also by exclusion.
Elsewhere in this volume Vésteinsson argues that processes of infrastructural redevelopment occur more rapidly in areas sharing territorial identity ('inclusive territoriality') than ones where divergent identities existed in opposition from one another -what he characterises as 'exclusive territoriality '. 87 In the area of the Danelaw both processes may be relevant: the Sherwood people, the Isle of Ely, Daneis -those regions territorially separate from the main administrative ('burghal') system, may have conceived themselves as distinct groups. The fact that many of these identifiable groups also often coincided with 'marginal' landscapes-upland, fen, and woodland-may hint at some more long-term geographically-determined association that was conspicuously renewed in these later territorial entities. By the same token the formalisation of these regions as territorial entities can be seen as part of the process which sovereignty was extended over them. Domesday Book lists Daneis or Ely as the names of hundreds, along with places within them on which renders were due. The specifications relating to the responsibilities of men within individual hundreds to raise a posse for the pursuit of thieves described in the tenthcentury Hundred Ordinance is a particularly powerful expression of the notion of enforcement. 88

Conclusion
In sum, we suggest that the intensification of territoriality in Anglo-Saxon England can be found in a range of sources of the sixth, seventh, and eighth centuries including 'sentinel' and deviant burials, place-names, and archaeological features. Of these linear earthworks are arguably very powerful instances of large-scale political entities engaging local communities in the construction of identity; to paraphrase the subtitle of this book, they undeniably confront neighbourhood with polity. Whether for economic or military gain these boundaries must be seen as an expression of internalised externality paving the way for more complex notions of property.
Documented boundaries that first appear at this time present additional problems, namely the degree to which their extents were the concern of administrators or local communities, or both. The former was certainly true, but the full reality is unknown. This last point raises interesting notions of how and when territoriality requires material expression. Knowing where a boundary lies, in an uncontested and perhaps deep-time sense, is a very different situation to being made aware of one by material indicators of power and jurisdiction. Place-name distributions of Scandinavian type spill over the Danelaw boundary, but the chronological problems are insurmountable.
Whilst there is an undeniable evolutionary tenor to much of the foregoing, some observations guard against viewing this as an inexorable progression. More often than not, PAFs did not develop into RAFs; in some cases the administrative developments that characterise RAFs obliterated or reorganised earlier arrangements, in other cases-indeed those that are most visible to us archaeologically today-PAFs were amalgamated and preserved within other administrative structures. Nor was the regularising effect characteristic of RAFs the same everywhere: the intensity of territorialisation could vary depending on geography, political authority, demography. A key observation that remains is that by the time that written evidence allows us to visualise a hierarchy of territorialityi.e. by the tenth century-militarisation lies at the core of the geo-political organisation of people and resources, a feature which also accompanied the earliest phase of territorial expansion by emerging Anglo-Saxon elites. In the example of Anglo-Saxon England the 87 Vésteinsson, this volume. 88 Liebermann, ed., Die Gesetze der Angelsachsen,