Journals of a Time Traveller

Meet my 25th great-grandmother. The year is 1349 CE during the Late Middle Ages. She is the final hypothesised representative of my mtDNA H6a1a8 line before I transition to my documented matrilineal ancestors.

This ancestor, Alice, lived through remarkably calamitous times. Recent generations had already endured the Great Famine (1315–1322) and a devastating bovine pestilence (1319–1321). They had faced the 'Malthusian Deadlock'—an era of overpopulation and land hunger—which coincided with the harsh onset of the 'Little Ice Age'. But Alice is made of sturdy stuff; she is already a proven survivor.

Life was already arduous in South Norfolk, even for my rural ancestors whom I have visualised as being of middling villein status. But now, a terrifying new pestilence is sweeping the country. Having already reached the ports of Great Yarmouth and the streets of Norwich, it looms over the village: the Black Death.

This is Alice's husband, John, on the last day he felt well enough to labour in the fields. He does not yet know it, but flea bites have infected him with a bacterium named Yersinia pestis. The tell-tale sign will be the bubo: a painful, grape-to-orange-sized swelling of the lymph nodes in the groin, armpit, or neck.

His chances of survival are slim; the fatality rate sits between 60% and 80%. Unless the buboes miraculously burst and drain, the infection will likely overwhelm him, leading to a swift death from septicaemia within the week.

John will be one of many. Around half of the parishioners in his manor will perish. The community will be shattered, and entire family lineages will be destroyed.

Alice proved resilient even against the Great Mortality. It is possible she possessed a genetic resistance passed down to her daughters, though her survival came at a heavy price: she was now a widow. While the initial terror of 1349 eventually subsided, the suffering was far from over. The plague did not simply burn out; it lingered in the soil and the shadows, surging back with a vengeance between 1361 and 1362.

Because those who survived the first wave often retained immunity, this second coming—the pestis puerorum—was cruelest to the young who had been born into a brief window of peace.

Imagine the toll on Alice’s spirit. To witness more than half of her world culled by a devastating "Great Death" would shatter any modern psyche. Yet, she did not surrender. This resilience became a blueprint for the generations that followed. In my own ancestry, I see forebears who endured centuries of poverty, injustice, and hardship. They didn't just curl up and die; they forged a legacy of endurance. That is the true inheritance of my research.

By 1366, Alice had begun a second chapter, marrying a plague widower in the nearby Norfolk parish of Carleton Rode. Though they grieved a child lost to the surge of 1362, they did not dwell on the past. Alice and her new husband were part of a rising class—a "new breed" of survivors who understood their value. With labour in short supply, they wielded a negotiating power across the manors that their ancestors could never have imagined.

They now held a full virgate—thirty acres of prime land. Their holdings were grander than ever: more strips of arable soil to plough and a larger herd of cattle grazing the commons. Most importantly, Alice’s line endured. Her daughter survived, carrying forward the mitochondrial DNA—the H6a1a8 lineage—that had successfully navigated the eye of the storm.

It is now 440 CE in the Tas Valley of what is now called Norfolk, England. My 51-times great-grandmother is a young girl, playing in the ruins of the old city of Venta Icenorum. Other than squatters and salvage-hunters, the city has largely fallen into decay and is mostly deserted.

Her people are Romanistas - Romano-Britons. They are the Christian, Romanised Britons of the 5th century, and they have good reason to pray. It has been more than thirty years since the last legions departed Britannia. The shore forts stand derelict. The economy is in crisis, and their society is shattered.

Her father is a decurion, a local magistrate and landowner. He has witnessed the decline throughout his life. His tenants are restless, their economy still clinging to the memory of the coin, yet they scratch the heavy local soils with light ards that barely bite the earth.

​But a new people are settling these lands, arriving from across the North Sea. Their culture is alien, having evolved free of imperial history. They are industrious workers and brave warriors. They use heavy iron-shod ploughs and brute strength to turn the stubborn clay soils. They rely on barter and tender—trading their surplus products rather than coinage.

​The father is wise. He understands the value of cultivating a strong relationship with these new tenants, mercenaries, and trading partners. They may speak in rough Germanic tongues and worship pagan deities, but they promise a way out of the crisis. These are the early arrivals of a people known as the Angles. They have arrived as mercenaries and pioneers, and have brought a dearth of brides. My 51-times great-grandmother was always destined for an arranged marriage.

Her father had made a wise decision. Her husband's family proved they knew how to get the best out of these difficult soils. Their imported culture inspired the local Romano-Britons; by leading through example, they became the new leaders of the valley.

This AI image visualises the aging couple. They sit at home in a comfortable Anglo-Saxon house. I've asked for a cross section to demonstrate the earth pit basement below the wooden floor. These features left archaeological traces known as SFB (sunken feature building).

My 51-times great-grandmother practices the funerary rites for her husband. The transformation is complete. She began life British, in the Romano-British culture, and ends it English, immersed in the Anglo-Saxon culture.

​Cultures often change, but those who work the soil frequently remain. This underplayed rule applies more so to the women—a rule that can be observed through the mtDNA record.

​Rationale

​Recent genomic studies—most notably the 2022 Gretzinger et al. study—suggest a significant genetic turnover in Eastern England, with up to 74% of the ancestry in areas like Norfolk being attributed to Continental Northern European populations.

​At first, this sounds like support for the old 'mass Anglo-Saxon invasion' story of Hengist and Horsa. However, the researchers stress that this immigration event was spread over as much as 600 years, from the early mercenaries up to and including the 9th and 10th-century Danish (Viking) farmers. This represents a long, drawn-out North Sea Immigration Continuum.

​Therefore, integration was often a more peaceful process, occurring one generation at a time. It is easy to see the economic advantage of marrying into North Sea communities. Was there conflict and coercion? I am sure some existed; horror stories based on fact likely served the tabloid-like religious lessons of early monastic historians like Bede.

​These new arrivals—the 74% of East Anglians who conquered the boulder-clay soils—were certainly prominent among my general ancestry. Their mixed descendants, the founders of an English identity, settled in their farmsteads, largely unmoved by the later Norman aristocracy, eventually becoming my high medieval ancestors.

Anglo-Saxon DNA

I have previously blogged details and a summary of recent investigations into Anglo-Saxon DNA in Anglo-Saxon Migration - the latest genetic evidence 2024. 

Anglo-Saxon copper-alloy brooches, parts of a cruciform brooch or a square-headed brooch recovered by my late father in a field at Morley St Botolph, Norfolk (recorded).

La Tène culture.

Meet my 70th great-grandmother. It is 55 CE, and we are standing in the Brecks of Britannia—the wild, sandy heaths of present-day Southwest Norfolk. My matrilineal ancestor is a woman of the Iceni, living within the twilight of the Late Iron Age La Tène culture.

​In the background, a Roman officer watches; for now, the peace holds. But the air is heavy. In this client kingdom, debt is mounting and old freedoms are eroding. Tension is building, and the storm is only a few years away.

The Iceni were a conservative people. Culturally, they remained resistant to the pull of the Roman world at a time when neighbouring tribes were falling over each other to secure trade and diplomatic favour.

​Yet, the Iceni were not entirely immune to the allure of Roman innovation. They took inspiration where it suited them, blending Mediterranean ideas with their own ancient traditions. They minted their own coins, but in a fiercely local La Tène style that favored abstract symbolism over Roman realism.

At Gallows Hill in present-day Thetford, a monumental timber complex had been raised—a site that mirrored the scale of Roman architecture, yet remained built on their own terms. It was civilization, reimagined through an Iceni lens:

Gallows Hill Iceni site in 55 CE as visualised by AI.

Coins were minted at the site, include this Iceni gold stator, found in a Norfolk field by my late father:

Only a few miles away, at Thetford Castle Hill, an Iceni fort had guarded a natural fording place of the Little Ouse River.

This was my ancestor's world. But then 60/61 CE, that world erupted in the Boudiccan Rebellion followed by Roman suppression.

Weaving the story of a matrilineage that will survive many such crises. I have previously blogged extensively on the Iceni in:  The Iceni, their land, their people - Iron Age Britain. Here is a rehash of the introduction:

The Iceni

The Iceni was the name Roman writers gave to a Brittonic tribe, or perhaps a tribal federation, that inhabited modern-day Norfolk and parts of north-west Suffolk and north-east Cambridgeshire. While the name was solidified by Roman historians, its origins are slightly older. Julius Caesar, writing in 54 BC, may have been describing them when he referred to a tribe north of the Thames called the Cenimagni. Evidence for the name is also found in their own archaeology; Iron Age coins minted in the region bear the inscriptions ECE or ECEN. By the following centuries, Roman administration officially recognised their territory as the civitas of the Iceni.

Who were the Iceni?

The Late Iron Age people of Norfolk were primarily an agrarian society, cultivating small fields of wheat and barley. Sheep and cattle were central to their economy, with the region's salt marshes providing excellent grazing.

Archaeologically, the Iceni stand out from their neighbours. Unlike the "classic" Iron Age landscape of Southern England, which featured heavily defended hillforts and ring-ditched enclosures, Icenian settlements appear to have been largely unenclosed farmsteads. This lack of visible defences suggests a different social structure or perhaps a more stable internal peace than that found in the hillfort-heavy West and South.

Living in the Round

Where Icenian farmsteads align with the wider British tradition is in their architecture: the roundhouse. These structures were masterfully adapted for the British climate:

• Structure: A ring of timber posts supported walls made of wattle and daub (woven hazel plastered with a mixture of mud, straw, and animal dung).

• Roofing: A steep, conical thatched roof allowed rain to run off quickly and smoke from the central hearth to vent naturally through the thatch.

• Orientation: Almost universally, the doors—often protected by a small porch—faced south-east. This consistency is so striking that archaeologists believe it was more than just a way to catch the morning light; it likely represented a deep-seated religious or cosmological taboo against facing the cold, dark north-west.

The Boudican Revolt

While the Iceni were a distinct cultural group for centuries, the name is forever synonymous with the event that nearly toppled Roman Britain: the Boudican Revolt.

Boudica (also rendered as Boudicca or the Victorian Boadicea) was the queen of the Iceni during the mid-1st century AD. Following the Claudian invasion of AD 43, the Iceni were one of several tribes that negotiated a surrender, allowing them to remain a semi-independent client kingdom.

However, tension simmered beneath the surface. The Romans established a colonia (a settlement for retired soldiers) at Camulodunum (Colchester) on the lands of the neighbouring Trinovantes. The locals were forced to pay heavy tributes to fund the city and a massive temple dedicated to the deified Emperor Claudius—a stinging symbol of foreign occupation.

The Spark of Rebellion

The crisis peaked around AD 60 upon the death of the Icenian King, Prasutagus. In his will, he left half his kingdom to his daughters and half to the Roman Emperor, hoping to preserve his family's lineage. Instead, the Romans interpreted the king's death as an excuse to annex the entire territory.

When his widow, Boudica, protested, the Roman response was brutal: she was publicly flogged and her daughters were raped. This catalyst united the Iceni in a quest for vengeance. They raised a massive army, joined by the aggrieved Trinovantes, and marched south. Their first target was Colchester, which they razed to the ground.

My 105 times great-grandmother in 800 BCE. Hallstatt C culture, in the Eastern Alps (Austria ). As visualised by Google Gemini AI.

The Salt Kingdoms: From Bronze to Iron

These people descended from earlier Central European lineages—the Corded Ware and Únětice cultures—which evolved through the Tumulus and Urnfield traditions before crystallising into the early phases of the Hallstatt. The Hallstatt economy was bolstered by a sophisticated prehistoric salt-mining industry and the expansive trade networks it triggered. The creamy, translucent mineral salt they produced has been preserved deep within the Alpine peaks for millennia, serving as both a vital preservative and a high-value currency.

As the Urnfield period gave way to the Hallstatt culture around 800 BCE, this salt-driven wealth sparked a social revolution. The "Hallstatt phenomenon" was not merely a change in pottery style, but the birth of a new, ostentatious aristocracy. Control over the salt mines allowed local chieftains to trade with the Mediterranean world, swapping Alpine minerals for Greek pottery, Etruscan bronze, and silken finery. This influx of luxury goods transformed the social landscape, shifting the focus from communal Urnfield burials to the monumental "princely" mounds that define the Hallstatt period.

The phenomenon was also defined by a technological leap: the mastery of iron. While the earlier Unetice and Urnfield cultures were masters of bronze, the Hallstatt elite were among the first in Central Europe to wield long, heavy iron swords. These weapons, along with the iconic four-wheeled wagons found in their tombs, suggest a society geared toward status, ritual, and territorial control. It was a culture of "conspicuous consumption," where wealth was not just hoarded, but displayed in life and buried in death.

Yet, even as these iron-wielding elites built their hillforts and established their trade routes, the underlying genetic story remained one of slow, steady continuity. The grand political shifts from the Bronze Age to the Iron Age were like waves on the surface of a deep ocean; beneath them, the maternal lineages—the mtDNA—remained anchored to the land. The "Hallstatt Celt" may have been a new cultural mask, but the faces behind it were the descendants of the same salt-miners and farmers who had walked those Alpine valleys for generations.

John Henry Brooker on the Western Front. Based on his military service record, an existing photo and family traits. Visualised by Google Gemini.

The Genetic Ghost: An Ancient Odyssey

My paternal lineage carries a rare genetic ghost within its Y chromosome—Haplogroup L-FGC51036. This signature survived the winds of prehistory in the Zagros region of Southwest Asia before being swept westwards toward the Levant. By the close of the medieval period, it surfaced in the English counties of Hampshire and Berkshire.

How did it arrive? Perhaps it was carried to the port of Southampton by a Venetian galley. By 1746, the lineage officially entered the records of my surname line, represented by a copyhold tenant of a North Berkshire manor. This Asian lineage, rooted for centuries in English soil, eventually transitioned from the rural fields of Oxfordshire to the urban bustle of London, and finally to the mud of the Western Front.

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From Soil to City: The Brooker Roots

The story of the "Man of Mystery," my great-grandfather John Henry Brooker, begins with a break from the past. During the 19th century, his father, Henry Brooker Sr., grew up on Oxfordshire farms as a poor labourer. Henry eventually turned his back on the rural poverty that had plagued his ancestors since they were made landless by the Enclosure Acts.

Seeking a new life, Henry arrived in the East End of London. He brought with him a countryman’s mastery of horsemanship, finding work as a carman—a carter driving horse and cart to move goods. Records show he briefly served as a coachman, swapping cargo for passengers, before ending his career as a storeman for a haulage business.

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The Scholar and the Soldier

Henry’s skills were passed to his son, John Henry, but the boy was destined for more than the driver’s seat. Moving further east to Deptford and Lewisham, John Henry excelled in school. By 1901, his academic prowess earned him an appointment as a pupil-teacher, a role that usually led to a professional teaching career.

However, the Royal Field Artillery (RFA) barracks at Woolwich were near his neighborhood. Whether drawn by the draught-horse craft of his father or his own mathematical aptitude, John Henry traded the classroom for the gun carriage. In 1906, while serving as a Gunner in the 65th Battery RFA, he married Faith Eliza Baxter, a Norfolk maid working in London.

A Marriage in the Shadows

The marriage was short-lived and shadowed by tragedy. Faith had recently given birth to a daughter; John Henry, raised in the strictures of Edwardian working-class morality, likely married her to "do the right thing." It was a misguided judgment that would haunt him.

Family lore, told from Faith’s perspective, whispered of an assault in Ireland. However, DNA matching has provided a clearer, if more complex, picture. I share genetic segments with numerous descendants of Henry Brooker, confirming John Henry was indeed the biological father of my grandfather, born in 1908. While Faith—whose parents were born in the Gressenhall Union workhouse—lived by a different, perhaps survivalist moral standard, John Henry remained a man of quiet virtue, deeply concerned with his reputation. The two were fundamentally incompatible.

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The "Twelve-Year Man": War and Survival

To trace John Henry’s military life is to follow the trajectory of the British Army itself, moving from the polished professional ranks of the "Old Contemptibles" to the industrial carnage of the Great War.

The Professional Prelude (1911–1914)

By 1911, John was a seasoned specialist stationed in Ireland. At the Kildare Curragh, he mastered the 18-pounder quick-firing gun. By the outbreak of war, he was a Corporal—a man of muscle and mathematics capable of directing lethal fire with precision.

The Baptism of Fire (1914–1917)

• Mons & Le Cateau: Landing at Le Havre on August 16, 1914, John was thrust into the retreat from Mons. At Le Cateau, his battery stood their ground against overwhelming odds to cover the infantry.

• The Great Attrition: He endured the first gas attacks at the Second Battle of Ypres (1915) and the horror of The Somme (1916). Here, his mathematical mind was vital for the "creeping barrage," a wall of fire that required absolute synchronization.

• The Italian Front: In late 1917, he was dispatched to the River Piave to bolster Italian forces after the disaster at Caporetto.

The Final Act (1918–Post-War)

John returned to France to stall the 1918 German Spring Offensive. By then, his administrative aptitude had likely moved him into "Battery Office" roles. This logistical experience became his bridge to civilian life, securing him a post-war position as an Admiralty Clerk.

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A Legacy Reclaimed

A portrait, as visualised by Google Gemini, based on the only surviving photo taken of John Henry Brooker in 1933.

The war left its marks—the likely hearing loss of a career gunner and the psychological weight of four years of bombardment. Following the period working for the Admiralty as a clerk at Whitehall SW, John Henry eventually settled in Sidcup, Kent, working as a clerk for Post Office Transport. In 1945, on reaching retirement, he was a higher clerical officer, responsible for transportation, as the Post Office were building up their national telephone network.

Though long estranged from my branch of the family, he built a stable life with Mabel Tanner. In his final years during the 1950s, he traveled back to Norfolk to visit his son, Reginald, and his grandchildren. He is no longer the "Man of Mystery" or the young gunner in a broken marriage, but a survivor of the most technologically demanding era in human history—the living vessel for a "genetic ghost" that had traveled from the Zagros Mountains to the quiet suburbs of Kent.

The Guardian of the Lady’s Ledger: 64 BCE

The air in the inner sanctum of the Temple of Baalat Gebal is heavy with the scent of age-old incense and the sharp, resinous tang of fresh cedar. Outside, the Mediterranean sun beats down on the harbor of Byblos, but here, behind thick limestone walls, it is cool and quiet.

The Treasurer sits at a heavy table of polished cedar. He is a man of precise movements and quiet authority. He does not wear the armor of the Roman legions now marching through the streets, nor the tattered silks of the dying Seleucid court. He wears the fine, pleated linen of a high-ranking Phoenician administrator, secured with a signet ring of carnelian that has been in his family for generations.

He could be the carrier of my L-FGC51036 line—a lineage that has always thrived in the spaces between empires. His ancestors were the Hurrians who followed the gods of the mountains to the sea; he is the result of their survival. He is a man of two worlds: he speaks the local Phoenician tongue of his neighbors, the Greek of the educated elite, and is already learning the harsh, rhythmic Latin of the newcomers.

Physical Description and Presence

• The Face of the Levant: He possesses the features of a true Levantine crossroads—deep-set, observant eyes that have calculated the weight of a thousand silver shekels, and a neatly trimmed beard in the Phoenician style. His hands are calloused not from the sword, but from years of handling clay tablets, papyrus scrolls, and the rough bark of the timber that built the world.

• The Weight of Office: He is the man who oversees the "Lady’s" wealth—the vast stores of grain, the jars of precious oil, and most importantly, the timber contracts.

• The Negotiator: As he looks up from his ledgers, his expression is one of calm calculation. He is currently watching the transfer of power to Rome not with fear, but as a logistical challenge. To him, the Roman General Pompey is simply a new, formidable "customer" for the Temple's cedar.

Source ©  OpenStreetMaps Modified by myself.

His Mission at the Gateway

In this moment of 64 BCE, he is the anchor of our lineage. As the Seleucid Empire collapses into anarchy, he ensures that the Temple—and by extension, his family’s status—remains indispensable. He is currently overseeing a massive shipment of cedar beams destined for the Roman shipyards, ensuring the paperwork is flawless so that when the Roman tax collectors arrive, the Temple's ancient privileges remain untouched.

He is the "Ghost" made manifest: a rare genetic signature that has survived by being smarter, more organized, and more essential than the warriors who fight over the soil above him. He represents the moment my DNA became woven into the very administrative fabric of the Roman Mediterranean.

The temple Balaat Gebal in 64 BCE as visualised by Google Gemini AI.

And so, my ghost yDNA lineage has settled along the Levantine coast. There it may stay for centuries. A rare variant inherited from Ice Age ibex hunters of the Zagros. Ancient survivor.

The Zarzian Return: 18,000 BCE I visualize the Zarzian hunter-gatherers of the Zagros and ask: is this my great-grandfather?

The unbearably harsh conditions of the Last Glacial Maximum (LGM) once drove the Baradostian Ice Age hunters out of these mountains and into lower-altitude refuges. However, after 20,000 years ago, the climate began to stabilize, permitting a slow return to the Zagros valleys. Unlike many other groups of the era, my paternal ancestors do not appear to have traveled far; they remained rooted in the Zagros or South Caucasus region for an immense span of time. I would conjecture that they return to the same valleys:

13,000 years ago. Zagros Mountains and valleys (now in Iran) South West Asia

The Zagros and South Caucasus mountains (now in Iran), South West Asia. © OpenStreetMap contributors".