Scouthal Woods, a quiet area of Caithness in north east Scotland, was the focus of a major dig in the mid 1970s which found a mysterious row of ancient skulls
A sleepy corner of the UK was once home to a violent cult that brutally decapitated its enemies. Scouthal Woods, a quiet and unassuming area of Caithness in north east Scotland, hides a chilling secret.
Although the woods themselves were largely destroyed by fierce storms in living memory, the name remains along with a few stunted remnants, as do the secrets buried below the soil. Here, in a relatively confined area, lies evidence of human existence – and violent death – dating back many years.
It is a history stretching from primitive Neolithic beginnings through ritualistic ceremonies involving a cult of the dead. At the centre of it all is Clow Chapel.
Traditionally known as ‘The Clow’, derived from the Gaelic word ‘cladh’ meaning a churchyard, the ruined ecclesiastical site was the focus of a major archaeological dig during the mid 1970s.
In the shadowy world of historical digs, chilling discoveries inevitably attract their share of myth and controversy – and Clow Chapel is no exception. The 1975 excavation was led by professional archaeologist Eric Talbot of the University of Glasgow, working alongside Thurso archaeologist Les Myatt, and chronicled by Donald Omand of Aberdeen University.
Under Talbot’s leadership, the team excavated the historic early medieval chapel, famously uncovering a mysterious row of ancient skulls. Over a decade later, Talbot’s career took a bizarre and highly controversial turn. In 1990, he provided professional oversight during their search for King Arthur’s grave in South Wales.
He was discredited in archaeological circles after a cross was allegedly unearthed with the inscription “Pro Anima Artorius” which the National Museum of Wales completely dismissed as a “highly dubious or outright modern forgery”.
But back at the Caithness site in 1975, the discoveries were very real. The excavation soon unearthed a gruesome tableau as investigators, digging into the historic early medieval chapel, discovered a cluster of skulls crammed into a small section of rock-cut graves and sandstone cists.
A total of 12 skulls were found resting on a small piece of sandstone, with the remains estimated to date from around the year 1100. Chillingly, some of these skulls were neatly buried alongside their upper seven vertebrae – a grim detail indicating that brutal decapitations had taken place before burial.
Mr Omand suggested the severed heads were evidence of ancient warfare, noting a known custom in Celtic conflicts to decapitate opponents and preserve the heads of slain enemies.
A piece of slate incised with a Celtic-style cross was also found nearby. But the macabre history runs much deeper. As an added bonus for the 1970s excavation team, the site yielded a complete, well-preserved skeleton dating from a much earlier era.
Buried beneath the chapel was a Bronze Age Beaker burial from around 1600 BC, consisting of a crouched skeleton surrounded by a lozenge-shaped, slab-lined tomb.
This echoes another ancient discovery just a stone’s throw away at Acharole, where a burial cist containing a fully intact, impressively decorated beaker was discovered in 1904.
It poses a tantalising question about who the ardent missionary was who made it as far as Scouthal to establish a small chapel. It was a time when missionaries were spreading the word of a crucified carpenter from Judea, a dangerous calling that saw fellow acolyte Maelrubha venture far from Applecross only to meet his violent end in Strathnaver courtesy of marauding Vikings.
By 1726, historical records described the Clow Chapel as ruinous. It took on a melancholic purpose as an unconsecrated burial place for strangers and unbaptised children before being completely abandoned around 1770.
With the 1970s dig, the archaeological record states that “unfortunately, no dating evidence was found, and the finds no longer survive”. Following these extensive excavations, the earth was carefully backfilled, leaving Clow Chapel as a preserved site with only a small interior wall face surviving above ground.
As for those 12 decapitated skulls unearthed by Talbott and his team, their current whereabouts pose a fitting final mystery for this time of year.
With no clear museum record of their display today, it is highly likely the macabre remains were quietly returned to the earth and dug back into the soil when the area was backfilled – leaving the ancient, headless warriors to rest once again beneath the dark Caithness landscape.