Ammianus Marcellinus XXVII.10.11:

"Then, as he was making his way by devious paths over unknown places and marshy bogs, a band of the enemy placed in ambush in a hidden spot would have slain him by a sudden attack, had he not resorted to the last means of safety, put spurs to his horse, ridden away through the slippery mud, and taken refuge in the bosom of his legions after an imminent danger to which he was so very close that the chamberlain who carried the emperor's helmet, adorned with gold and precious stones, completely disappeared together with the helmet itself, and could be found later neither alive nor dead."

We can happily classify the Deurne as a Berkasovo-type due to the noticeable base ring with attached nasal guard, to which the cheek and neck guards are themselves attached. More specific typologies, such as those in Miks’ excellent work, class the Deurne as a Berkasovo-type Ia as the helmet bowl is in four pieces (as per the Berkasovo I) rather than two (as per the Berkasovo II); the Deurne helmet has the appearance of a bowl divided into six pieces, however, giving it a highly unique look.

Also found and associated with the helmet were the following items: a silver scabbard throat piece, a bronze cloak pin, 39 copper coins decorated with the visage of Constantius I (thus dating the helmet to his reign at the earliest, although one coin being dated to AD319 means we cannot place the terminus date of use any earlier than 319/320 - likely much later given the recirculation Roman coins so often enjoyed), and several leather and textile fragments from shoes to pouches. The textile fragments suggest an origin from the eastern half of the empire, although whether the owner was an eastern empire soldier somehow killed in Denmark or if he possessed imported fabrics (not an unrealistic assumption given the likely higher status of the helmet) is unclear.

Whether this implies a ritual deposit, an accidental deposit due to a careless owner or a soldier killed in the field and left to lie where he fell is unclear. Miks notes that there were allegedly traces of brain matter inside the helmet as well as parts of the soldier’s preserved right shoulder and upper arm in the same context. It is more likely that this is simply a misinterpretation of hair fibres from a more conventional source, such as a pilleus pannonicus, and disseminated through oral retellings as remains of human hair. Whether this is reliable or not is unclear, but the Rikjsmuseum is of the belief that the man drowned and his body was never retrieved. A good deal speaks against this theory, however - why were no sword or belt, items indicative of a military man, also found at the site? Indeed, the context seems to contain equipment that probably did not belong to the soldier in the first place. The clue may lie in the bag and shoes – based on the sizes, they clearly do not belong to the same person. Indeed, we may be looking at an accident, but not by a single careless person: several men, at least three but maybe more, were possibly trampling around in the bog to find the already-lost bag with the precious helmet. Their search ended in vain, as we know, and with the bonus (for our archaeological record) of them losing several of their shoes not far from the bag containing the helmet. We could therefore hypothesise a scenario of a dark and perhaps rainy night, a group of people travelling across rough terrain in a hurry, a mule stumbling and dropping precious cargo, and a fruitless search to retrieve the goods. The true answer will likely remain a perpetual mystery. 

The Deurne helmet is an example of the gold-plated silver sheet (thin as a plate) surviving far better than the iron core itself, as Miks notes the iron (as well as one of the cheek flaps) was not actually preserved.

As with other decorative helmets we have discussed before, the Deurne features ball-headed rivets as both a fastener and decoration, and highly elaborate repousse work all along the surface – unlike other examples, the repousse work is not limited to the edge-lines of the helmet plates, but also forms decorative patterns on the plate facings.

On the neck-guard, we can see the inscription “Marcus Titus Lunamis”, giving us the name of the manufacturer, as well as a note that the helmet’s precious gold/silver coating weighed 1 pound and 1.5 ounces.

Across the right side of the base ring, between the intricate repousse work and separated by ivy leaves, reads the following inscription: “STABLESIA VI” – thanks to the Notitia Dignitatum, we can therefore assume the owner was a rider in the Equites Stablesiani. The Stablesiani were a series of cavalry units stationed across the Roman empire; around 20 in total, the Notitia lists at least seven in the East and eight in the West, possibly not accounting for the unit referred to on the earlier Deurne helmet, making the total potentially 21 or higher.

The precise nature of these regiments is unknown, sadly, with suggestions that they were field army regiments perhaps formed from veteran soldiers originally seconded to staff officers or governors as grooms, equerries and/or bodyguards; the most recent theory by Spiedel suggesting that the designation originally refers to cavalry units stationed in north-west Italy during the reign of Gallienus and under the command of Aureolus, the latter being designated as stabulensis – a senior officer in charge of the imperial stables. What we can tell for certain, however, is that despite having enjoyed a rather prestigious position in the emperor’s comitatus during the crisis of the 260/270s AD, during the late 3rd or early 4th century most of these regiments were reassigned to the garrisons of frontier provinces.

It seems fair to say, therefore, that the Deurne helmet’s owner was likely one of these regional bodyguards; how and why his panoply ended up in a Dutch swamp is still unclear (particularly as the find may or may not have included human remains), but with the rich decoration we see (both the gilding and the intricate repousse work) tells us a few things. Firstly, it is possible that such a lavish helmet was considered “standard” amongst the Roman army in the early 4th Century, or alternatively the individual was a high-status member of his limitanei regiment – perhaps an officer or highly seasoned veteran. Secondly, it seems the Deurne helmet is a perfect example to use in the ongoing argument against the stereotype of limitanei soldiers being poorly-equipped and poorly-funded; the argument has little traction amongst the re-enactment or academic communities, but is sadly still prevalent.

While not as intricately detailed or lavishly decorated as the Budapest and Berkasovo helmets, the Deurne is certainly a fantastic example of a Late Roman helmet of exceptional quality (thanks in part to the superb bog preservation), perfectly suited to a Roman who prefers an understated style (or at least less extravagant than the previous high-status examples).

Pictures courtesy of the Pustelak Brothers Art Workshop for an absolutely stunning reconstruction, and both Robert Vermaat and Christian Miks for images of the original find and restoration in museum conditions. Extra thanks to Maarten Dolmans for extra information from his publication 'Deurne revisited: the construction and 'hypothetical' reconstruction of a Late Roman cavalry helmet' in the Journal of Roman Military Equipment Studies 19 (2018/2020) p 227- 246.