‘Sua fele thar mellyt wer’: the ‘Douglas Larder’ and the Apparent Transgression of Moral Boundaries in Barbour’s Bruce

Callum Watson - PhD History

On Palm Sunday 1307 – according to John Barbour – James Douglas led an attack on the garrison of Douglas Castle while they were hearing Mass. Having taken the unarmed garrison captive, Douglas and his men took them back to the castle, slaughtered them in the cellar, plundered the castle’s stores, poisoned the well, and burned the entire structure to the ground. This act of brutality – subsequently known as the Douglas Larder – is extreme even by the often gory standards of medieval warfare. Its inclusion in a work like The Bruce – in which Douglas is portrayed as a paragon of chivalry, alongside the likes of Hector – is remarkable. My purpose here is to explore the ways in which Barbour attempts to justify Douglas’ actions with reference to his obligations as a loyal knight in the service of King Robert, and what this tells us about Barbour’s understanding of chivalry more broadly.

Image One: Harold swears an oath on holy relics (Bayeux Tapestry, ca. 1070. Tapestry. Musée de la Tapisserie de Bayeux, Bayeux, France).

The first of these obligations results from an exchange between Douglas and the king, which takes place immediately before the events of the Douglas Larder. Douglas seeks permission from the king to visit his lands, which are currently occupied by the English. King Robert is initially unwilling to let Douglas go due to the danger involved, but responds:

“He said, ‘Schyr, nedways I will wend 

And tak that aventur will giff 

Quhether-sa it be to dey or lyff.’”

J. Barbour, The Bruce, Bk. 5, ll. 242-244

This declaration echoes a formula employed repeatedly in Barbour’s Bruce in which characters express the seriousness of their intentions by swearing to carry them out even at the cost of their life. Oath-making was a key part of political life in medieval Scotland, and thus was taken very seriously. Almost every social contract involved the exchange of oaths, and often this was done while touching the Gospels or other holy items. Thus, by having Douglas express himself in these terms, Barbour reinforces Douglas’ resolve.

Image Two: The Bute Mazer (c.1314-1318), a communal drinking vessel decorated with a lion – thought to represent King Robert himself – and the heraldic devices of six of his vassals from the Stewartry, reflecting some of the historical relationships explored in The Bruce. From left to right: Sir Walter Stewart (between the lion’s paws, reflecting his status as the king’s son-in-law), Menteith (a Stewart cadet branch), Susannah Crawford, an unknown FitzGilbert cadet, Sir Walter FitzGilbert of Hamilton, and Sir James Douglas himself.

However, King Robert not only gives Douglas permission to go, he also offers to assist Douglas in the recovery of his lands if Douglas should find anything ‘anoyis or scaithfull’ (distressful or hurtful, Bk. 5, ll. 249) there. This offer is a potentially huge concession on the king’s part, and can be best explained with the reference to the friendship between the two men. Bruce and Douglas’ friendship is the most important relationship in The Bruce (far more important than the one between Bruce and his poor wife, who only appears when she is captured by the English and again when she is released!). Friendship in the medieval period was a formal arrangement that placed specific responsibilities on the individuals involved – including the provision of mutual assistance in the settlement of disputes. Friendship with the king in particular also offered lucrative opportunities for patronage, as well as influence at a governmental level – as is seen repeatedly throughout The Bruce in Douglas’ influence on the king’s decisions, thanks to their closeness. It is Douglas’ friendship with King Robert that enables him to secure permission to visit his lands, but Bruce’s promise to fulfil his duties as Douglas' friend potentially jeopardise Bruce’s recovery of his own inheritance – which is no less than the entire kingdom. Douglas thus finds himself obliged to find a way to relieve the king of this burden, based on the same principle of mutual assistance that led to Bruce’s promise of aid.

Image Three: The Battle of Otterburn (1388) from a fifteenth-century manuscript of Froissart’s Chroniques (Bibliotheque Nationale MS Fr. 2645, fol. 351). Later Scottish chroniclers such as Andrew of Wyntoun blamed this defeat on a lack of prudence on the part of James, 2nd earl of Douglas – the Scottish commander.

Consequently, Douglas is forced to employ unorthodox tactics in order to achieve his ends. To do so, Douglas must apply to the situation what Barbour refers to as ‘worschip’. For Barbour, ‘worschip’ means using ‘wyt’ (intelligence) to govern one’s ‘hardyment’ (boldness), in order to find the most prudent course of action and make the best of the current circumstances. Barbour devotes considerable space in The Bruce to promoting this principle, elevating martial prudence to the level of a chivalric virtue. In an earlier part of the poem, Barbour places a speech in King Robert’s mouth in which he declares that a prudent knight should ‘ay thynk to cum to purpos’ (Bk. 3, ll. 263), meaning that he should always seek success in his military endeavours. It is this principle that guides Douglas’ behaviour while he is visiting his hereditary lands. Barbour even explains Douglas’ specific concerns when slighting the castle (Bk. 5, ll. 268-270, 415-428). On arriving in Douglasdale, he quickly realises that he cannot compete with the English in terms of manpower, so he resolves to combat them with guile. After taking the castle, Douglas recognises that he cannot garrison the castle and hold it himself, and so he destroys it as completely as he can – thereby denying the English the use of it in the future. Douglas thus ensures the best possible outcome, while putting himself and his men in as little danger as possible, and at the same time absolves the king of any obligation to intervene in the situation.

Image Four: Sir James Douglas’ tomb in St Bride’s Kirk, Douglas. This may very well have been the kirk in which Douglas found the English garrison on the day of the Douglas Larder!

In The Bruce, the Douglas Larder is not presented as a vicious act of sacrilege, nor is it presented as an unusually bloody incident in a wider campaign. Rather, Barbour presents it as the tale of a noble knight, alone in enemy territory, drawing on all of his personal resources to fulfil his obligations as a chivalric hero and achieve success in the face of seemingly overwhelming odds.

Works Cited

J. Barbour, The Bruce, (A.A.M. Duncan ed. & trans.), (Edinburgh: Canongate, 1997).

S. Boardman, The Early Stewart Kings: Robert II and Robert III 1371-1406, (East Linton: Tuckwell Press, 1996).

M. Brown, The Black Douglases: War and Lordship in Late Medieval Scotland, 1300-1455 (East Linton: Tuckwell Press, 1998).

S. Cameron, ‘Chivalry and Warfare in Barbour’s Bruce’, in M. Strickland (ed.), Armies, Chivalry and Warfare in Medieval Britain and France: proceedings of the 1995 Harlaxton Symposium (Stamford: Paul Watkins Pub., 1998).

A. Classen, ‘Friendship – The Quest for a Human Ideal and Value from Antiquity to the Early Modern Time’, in A. Classen and M. Sandridge (eds.), Friendship in the Middle Ages and Early Modern Age: Explorations of a Fundamental Ethical Discourse, (Berlin/New York: De Gruyter, 2010).

R. Hyatte, The Arts of Friendship: The Idealisation of Friendship in Medieval and Early Renaissance Literature, (Leiden/New York: Brill, 1994).

A Framework for Exploiting God's Creation - Agricultural Estates and Settlement Landscapes in Early Medieval Dumfriesshire

Christoph Otte – PhD History  

In the 1970s scholars of medieval economy proposed a model framework in which early medieval estates and settlements could be understood in northern Britain, variously known as ‘shire’ or, more commonly, ‘multiple estate’ model (Jones 1971; Barrow 1973). The ‘multiple estate’ model envisages a group of settlements, inter-connected within the boundaries of an estate. The administrative and legal centre of the estate would be the lord’s hall. The surrounding settlements would owe labour services to the lord, such as ploughing his fields or paying rent in kind. Another element of this model is a central church, in charge of the spiritual welfare of the estate population, often situated close to the lord’s hall. As a result, there have been suggestions that in many cases parish boundaries and estate boundaries overlap to considerable extent, as they both potentially address the same population (see Fig. 1; Barrow 1973, pp. 50-63; Winchester 1985, p. 90). It should be noted that this is a generalised model, and requires testing in each individual case.

Fig. 1: The model of the ‘multiple estate’.

The focus of my PhD thesis is the kingdom of Bernicia from c. 600 AD to 800 AD, which encompasses, at least partially, the area of modern Dumfriesshire (Rollason 2003, pp. 20-36 and pp. 87f). The aim of my research is to demonstrate whether the ‘multiple estate’ can be traced in the local settlement patterns of this area, or whether an alternative model might be needed. This investigation relies on a few select case studies based on parishes due to their possible connection with estate boundaries.

Fig. 2: The county of Dumfriesshire, and the parish of Lochmaben, within the southern Scottish context.

In the case study excerpt presented here, I am investigating the landscape of the parish of Lochmaben. My starting point is the pattern of place-names in Dumfriesshire in the aforementioned parish. As an example, the distribution of the Scandinavian place-name element –thveit, referring to clearings or cleared land, can be compared with that of –bý place-names, also of Scandinavian origin and referring to farms or settlements (Fellows-Jensen 1991, pp. 83-87). Both place-name elements are generally dated to the tenth or eleventh centuries and attributed to Scandinavian settlers moving into the study area from Cumbria or other parts of northern England. It is notable that –bý place-names have a more easterly bias, whereas the –thveit elements tend to occur further west.

Fig. 3: The distribution of –thveit and –bý place-names in Dumfriesshire.

This may indicate that the incoming settlers first founded –bý settlements or renamed existing ones with that element, and at a later stage cleared the more marginal lands in order to expand pasture or arable tracts, creating –thveit name settlements. It is remarkable with regard to the parish of Lochmaben that the very part of the parish in which we find –thveit place-names is also the part where the parish boundaries leave their normal route, usually defined by natural features such as rivers and upland ridges, and instead extend into the south-west.

Fig. 4: The –thveit place-names of Lochmaben.

It looks like this section of the boundaries had been super-imposed onto a pre-existing land unit, possibly as a result of the founding of the –thveit place-names. The outline of the parish of Lochmaben excluding the upland extension to the south-west, in the following referred to as proto-Lochmaben, may therefore pre-date the tenth or eleventh centuries in which these settlements may have been founded. Comparative case studies of other parishes will, of course, provide a fuller picture.

Fig. 5: The potential extent of proto-Lochmaben.

Leaving the investigation of boundaries aside, the study of estates and early medieval economy should always take into account the population it was meant to support, and the means by which the land was cultivated. Another way of approaching the question of settlement patterns is therefore to try and gain a sense of the population dimensions for the given area. For this purpose, I used the hypothetical boundaries of proto-Lochmaben. The deduction of major woodlands and water bodies - taking into account that some lochs were drained as late as the nineteenth century - from the total area of proto-Lochmaben has left me with an area of land which may potentially have been agriculturally exploited for the support of the local population in the early middle ages. These are, of course, rough estimates, as the soil quality is not at present taken into account.

Fig. 6: Calculating the usable land (arable, pasture) of proto-Lochmaben.

According to Marcel Mazoyer and Laurence Roudart (Mazoyer and Roudart 2006, pp. 242-45), a farmer with the cultivation implements used in antiquity and the early middle ages (such as an ard, a type of simple plough) could support a family of five on 33.5 ha of land (which includes arable, pasture and a small portion of woodland) in cold temperate climate, or on 61 ha of land in harsher, colder conditions. Due to uncertainties about early medieval climate and soil conditions in Dumfriesshire, I used the middle value of these estimates and applied them to the area of wood- and water-free land calculated for proto-Lochmaben, resulting in a population potential of 408 people. Distributed amongst the five settlements which I am currently prepared to date to the early medieval period between c. 600 AD and 800 AD, this would give a result of c. 81 people per settlement. This number, although obviously presenting a very rough estimate and open to some imprecision, is still remarkably close to the average of 80 people per vill estimated for some areas covered by the eleventh-century Domesday Book economic survey initiated by William the Conqueror (Maitland 1897, pp. 17-20).

At a later stage in my studies, these estimates can give an idea of how much land would be needed per settlement, which in turn might have impacted the configuration of settlements within an estate. Another point which may help illuminate the landscape is to take into account the agrarian reality of the population. The speed of the oxen which are needed to draw ploughs or ards would necessarily limit the distance between a settlement and its pertaining arable fields. It is these practical and spatial considerations which I hope to employ in creating a better understanding of the early medieval rural economy of Dumfriesshire.

Fig. 7: Stilt and head of a prehistoric ard shown in the National Museum of Scotland. Note the illustration below it showing how it would be fitted to a beam, which in turn would be drawn by the draught animal (photograph by author).

Works Cited

Barrow, Geoffrey W. S., The Kingdom of the Scots (London, 1973).

Fellows-Jensen, Gillian, ‘Scandinavians in Dumfriesshire and Galloway: The Place-Name Evidence’, in Galloway. Land and Lordship, eds. R. Oram and G. Stell (Edinburgh, 1991), pp. 77-95.

Jones, Glanville R. J., 'The Multiple Estate as a Model Framework for Tracing Early Stages in the Evolution of Rural Settlement', in L'Habitat et les Paysages Ruraux d'Europe, ed. F. Dussart (Liège, 1971), pp. 251-267.

Maitland, Frederic W., Domesday Book and Beyond (Cambridge, 1897).

Mazoyer, Marcel and Roudart, Laurence, A History of World Agriculture from the Neolithic Age to the Current Crisis (London, 2006).

Rollason, David, Northumbria, 500-1100: Creation and Destruction of a Kingdom (Cambridge, 2003).

Winchester, Angus J. L., 'The Multiple Estate: A Framework for the Evolution of Settlement in Anglo-Saxon and Scandinavian Cumbria', in The Scandinavians in Cumbria, eds. John R. Baldwin and Ian D. Whyte (Edinburgh, 1985), pp. 89-102.

Copyright information for mapping layers in Figs. 2-6:

© Crown Copyright and Database Right 2015. Ordnance Survey (OS Terrain 5 DTM [ASC geospatial data], Scale 1:10000).

© Crown Copyright and Database Right 2015. Ordnance Survey (GB National Outlines [SHAPE geospatial data], Scale 1:250000).

© Crown Copyright and Database Right 2015. Ordnance Survey (Boundary-Line [SHAPE geospatial data], Scale 1:10000).

© Crown Copyright and Database Right 2015. Ordnance Survey (1:25 000 Raster [TIFF geospatial data], Scale 1:25000).

'Many have loved treachery, but none the traitor': Identity and Allegiance in Barbour's Bruce and Hary's Wallace

Callum Watson - PhD History

Treachery was one of the most serious social taboos in the kingdoms of north-western Europe in the medieval period. Consequently, the harshest punishments were reserved for traitors and oath breakers. For Scottish writers in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, this problem grew all the more acute due to the nature of the conflict between the kingdom and its southern neighbour. As is often observed, Scotland had far fewer resources to draw upon than England, which meant that not only could Scotland not afford to lose assets to England, but also that serving English interests could offer more lucrative rewards than remaining loyal to the King of Scots. For instance, when Archibald ‘the Grim’ secured the earldom of Douglas in 1389, disaffected members of his predecessor’s affinity offered their services and local expertise to Richard II. Barely ten years later, George Dunbar, earl of March, who had been instrumental in the prosecution of the war in the 1380s, was incensed by the increasing political closeness of the duke of Rothesay and Dunbar’s local rival the earl of Douglas. He not only defected, but also led cross-border raids against his former adherents on behalf of Henry IV. The responses of late medieval Scottish writers to the problem of shifting aristocratic allegiance can thus be quite illuminating, as in the case of John Barbour – whose long narrative poem The Bruce, recounting the life and career of King Robert I and his chief lieutenants, was composed in the mid-1370s (Barbour 1997) – and Blind Hary – who borrowed heavily from Barbour when producing a poetic biography of William Wallace around a century after Barbour was writing (Blind Hary 1968-69).

Execution by hanging, drawing and quartering, a punishment commonly reserved for traitors (Bibliotheque Nationale MS Fr. 2643, folio 197v)

For Barbour, loyalty was the most important virtue an individual could possess:

“With a vertu and leawté
A man may yeit sufficyand be,
And but leawté may nane haiff price
Quether he be wycht or he be wys,”
J. Barbour, The Bruce, Bk. 1, ll. 367-370

In The Bruce, villainous characters are frequently portrayed as traitors, and often the greatest disasters that the Scots suffer are the result of treachery. However, switching sides does not necessarily qualify as treasonous behaviour for Barbour, and this has to do with the concept of reciprocal lordship. Ideally speaking, a vassal was expected to subordinate his own ambitions in favour of those of his lord, and be willing to put himself through danger and hardship to accomplish his lord’s aims. In return, a lord was expected to generously reward his followers for their efforts with the fruits of their combined labour. However, if a lord failed to live up to his responsibilities in this regard, a vassal had cause to repudiate a previously sworn oath and seek a lord who would behave in a more proper manner. The key example of this principle at work in The Bruce is Thomas Randolph, earl of Moray. Moray is captured by the English at the Battle of Methven and is ‘made English’. When he is eventually recaptured by Sir James Douglas, he is brought before King Robert and rebukes the king for employing guerrilla tactics against the English, instead of meeting them in open battle. This challenge to Bruce’s preferred tactics – the promotion of which is another major theme of The Bruce – indicates Moray’s dissatisfaction with the king. While he is ultimately proven to be mistaken, this serves to justify Moray’s apparent willingness to switch sides without tarnishing his reputation for loyalty. In practical terms, the appeal of this principle is plain to see. If a powerful individual grew frustrated with a lack of patronage or apparent mistreatment by a social superior, they might legitimately seek redress in the service of another. Furthermore, to do so did not necessarily mean the complete abrogation of the previous arrangement and could serve as a tool to force a renegotiation of the former relationship to the benefit of the offended party. Certainly this principle could be used to defend the actions of the likes of Malcolm Drummond in 1389 or George Dunbar in 1400.

19^th-century representation of some of the key characters from Barbour’s Bruce and Hary’s Wallace (http://www.rampantscotland.com/famous/blfamfrieze.htm)

Hary’s Wallace is notable for, among other things, its vehemently anti-English sentiment. This has been used in support of the notion that The Wallace was written as a piece of anti-English propaganda in response to James III’s overtures for peace with England, possibly in support of the duke of Albany’s attempts to use this anti-English feeling to usurp his brother’s power. However, an alternative interpretation of the poem sees The Wallace as a more conservative work, which in fact encourages its readers to hold to the traditional values for which the Scottish monarchy is supposed to stand in times of crisis. For most of the poem, Bruce is in the service of the English king and is effectively an enemy of the kingdom he should rightfully rule. When Wallace and Bruce finally meet – standing on opposite sides of the River Carron after the Battle of Falkirk – Bruce asks Wallace why he resists the English and Wallace responds that he is only fulfilling the role that Bruce himself should take. This exchange is interesting because it is the most explicit summation of Wallace’s reasoning for his actions, and it seems that this is the attitude that Hary wishes to encourage in his audience. In times of uncertainty, when the king is not fulfilling the responsibilities associated with his role, his subjects should uphold the values for which the king should stand until the king (or his legitimate heir) accepts his proper responsibilities.

Resistance to royal authority in action!

Both writers accept, and even anticipate, a degree of resistance to royal authority, but ultimately they advocate ideas designed to instil greater stability in the Scottish political community. For Barbour, loyalty was paramount, but the relationship between powerful individuals had to be reciprocal in order for them to remain stable. For Hary, the ‘proper’ response to ineffectual kingship was loyalty to the institution of Scottish kingship – if not necessarily to the king himself – particularly in times of crisis and uncertainty.


General bibliography:

J. Barbour, The Bruce, (A.A.M. Duncan ed. & trans.), (Edinburgh: Canongate, 1997)

Blind Hary, The Wallace, (M.P. McDiarmid ed.), (Edinburgh: Scottish Text Society, 1968-69), 2 volumes

S. Boardman, The Early Stewart Kings: Robert II and Robert III 1371-1406, (East Linton: Tuckwell Press, 1996)

R. J. Goldstein, The Matter of Scotland: Historical Narrative in Medieval Scotland (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1993)

Religion and Daily Life: What Church Architecture Can Tell Us About Life in Byzantine Lycia

Audrey Scardina - PhD in Archaeology, University of Edinburgh, with help from the The Suna & İnan Kıraç Research Institute on Mediterranean Civilizations AKMED research grants.  

In this post I will discuss the results of my August/September 2014 research trip to Southwest Turkey, ancient Lycia. I will focus on one of the sites covered in my LAMPS paper given on September 15th. The trip was undertaken in order to further research on my PhD, entitled, 'Ecclesiastical Architecture and Settlement in Byzantine Lycia,' where I study the architectural developments of Byzantine churches throughout the region in conjunction with secular builds. Through the changes in this architecture over time, I aim to glean a better understanding of the history of these sites and the people that populated them.

Figure 1. Plan of Istlada

Source: Institut für Klassische Archäologie, Wien

Our focus is the site of Istlada, which is located inland about ca. 1km from the sea (Bayburtluoğlu 2004, 212). It is built up a steep hill, where the church is located at the bottom of the hill. Of the church Clive Foss, who surveyed the Lycian Coast in 1994, says nothing except for acknowledging its existence (27). The site was surveyed by Thomas Marksteiner's team from 1994 - 1998, though I have yet to be able to access their publications. In a later publication, Marksteiner (2010, 142) dates the basilica to the 6th century, the associated apsidal room to the same period, and the barrel-vaulted chapel to the middle to late Byzantine period (Fig. 1).

Figure 2. Apse of basilca, looking east.

Source: Self

The 6th century basilica is built of stone-faced rubble and mortar (Fig. 2), where the stones are often large in size, ca. 60 - 80 cm. The apse of the basilica is built of ashlar masonry. The associated apsidal room, referred to by Marksteiner (2010, 142) as a 'reliquary chapel', is also built of stone-faced rubble and mortar, including the apse. The blocks used to build this chapel are notably smaller than those used to build the basilica, ca. 40-50 cm (Fig. 3). This change in construction technique, especially due to the apse being built of stone-faced rubble and mortar instead of ashlar, suggests that the chapel should be considered a second phase of construction. 

Figure 3. Apse of apsidal room

Source: Self

 

This theory is aided when examining the relationship of the apsidal room to the basilica. As is visible on the plan (Fig. 1), the way in which these two buildings functioned together is as yet unclear from the remains on the ground. If the northern chapel wall were to extend directly southwest, as the southern wall does, it would abut the basilica's southeast corner. There is, however, no evidence for this taking place. If the structures were built in the same period, as Marksteiner has suggested, one would expect an obvious doorway between the two structures, which, again is nowhere to be found.

Figure 4. Northern doorway of western wall in apsidal room

Source: Self

The matter becomes more complicated when looking at the wall to the west of the apsidal room, which presumably would have been the back wall of the building, as well as the access point. There are three gaps in the wall; one between the southern wall extending off the apse, tone that seems central, and then one to the north. The northern gap is the most incongruous; If the wall off of the north of the apse was to follow a straight line, as the southern wall does, it would hit this western wall to the south of the northern gap. There is, however, no evidence for wall joining on this segment of wall (Figure 4). What does exist is a large block of stone ca. 1m up the wall that protrudes to the east, north, and south of the wall, and above which is the springing of an archway. The problems do not stop here, ca. 70 cm from the arch springing is another wall, which would have cut the archway almost in half. It unclear if the rubble between these two walls was purposeful walling up, or is just rubble from the collapse of the archway. 

Figure 5. Apse of later chapel, looking southwest

Source: Self 

This suggests far more layers of occupation and phases of building than originally suggested by Marksteiner. The site is further complicated by the addition of the vaguely dated middle- to late-Byzantine Chapel located inside the basilica (Fig. 5). The chapel is built of s stone-faced rubble and mortar, where the stone facing is irregular. It was then covered in a layer of mortar that would have originally been frescoed (Marksteiner 2010, 142). At some point, most likely before the chapel was built, the windows and doors of the basilica were walled up. Though, as mentioned above, it is unclear whether the doorways to the apsidal were walled up, there is no evidence for filling in the windows of the apse. This could suggest that the apsidal room was still in use while the chapel was being used. 

Though my research trip was incredibly helpful to my project, as usual it left me with more questions than answers. For Istlada, I will begin by trying to examine the different phases of the building in more detail, as well as by studying the connection of the basilica and the apsidal room. I believe this is key to understanding how the function of this church changed over time, which may help us to understand how the interaction of citizens of Istlada with the church evolved as well. 

The better dating and understanding of the apsidal room may also help to refine the date of the chapel within the basilica as well. This phenomenon, of a chapel being built inside an earlier basilica, is actually region-wide and will need to be researched at a wider scale before any strong conclusions can be drawn. Until then I am left to wonder what the state of the earlier basilica would have been while the chapel was in use. Was it ruined? If so was it the collapse of the church that merited the much smaller rebuild, or was that due to changes in liturgy? Or, was the church at some point simply too large and impractical? Next time, maybe I will have the answers. 

Works Cited: 
BAYBURTLUOĞLU, C. 2004. Lycia (Volume 1 van Suna & İnan Kırac Research Institute on Mediterranean Civilizations travel guide series). Istanbul: Homer Kitabevi ve Yayincilik Ltd.

MARKSTEINER, T. 2010. Lykien: ein archäologischer Führer. Wien: Phoibos. 

ND. Institut für Klassische Archäologie, Istlada Survey. [online] Available at < https://klass-archaeologie.univie.ac.at/forschung/istlada-survey/> [Accessed 29 September 2014].