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Before Newark-on-Trent became a hotspot for castles, cannonballs, and cream teas, it was surrounded by Roman settlements that made the area a logistical dream for toga-clad travellers. One such place was Margidunum, a name that sounds like a spell from Harry Potter but was actually a bustling Roman town just up the Fosse Way from Newark.

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Margidunum, meaning something like “fort by the edge” (or possibly “place where sandals go to die”), was located near modern-day Bingham, just a short chariot ride from Newark. It sat proudly on the Fosse Way, the Roman Empire’s answer to the M1, connecting Exeter to Lincoln. If Ad Pontem was the service station with a scenic view, Margidunum was the full-on Roman rest stop—complete with shops, barracks, and probably a few grumpy centurions.

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Established in the 1st century AD, Margidunum began life as a military fort, keeping an eye on the locals and the road. But as the years rolled on and the empire settled in, it evolved into a civilian town. Think less “marching orders” and more “market stalls.” Archaeologists have uncovered evidence of roads, buildings, and even a bathhouse—because even Roman soldiers needed a good soak after a long day of empire-building.

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Margidunum was one of the key waypoints between Ad Pontem and Lindum Colonia (modern-day Lincoln). It was Newark’s older, slightly more organised cousin—less drama, more drainage. Its strategic location made it a vital cog in the Roman machine, helping to move troops, goods, and gossip across Britannia.

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Excavations at Margidunum have revealed pottery, coins, and the remains of buildings that suggest a community. There’s even evidence of a Roman temple, which means the locals weren’t just trading—they were praying too. Possibly for better weather or fewer taxes.

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While Margidunum itself isn’t within Newark’s modern boundaries, its influence certainly was. The road that connected it to Ad Pontem ran right through what would become Newark-on-Trent. So, in a way, Newark owes its very existence to the Romans’ obsession with straight roads and orderly towns.

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Today, there’s not much left to see on the surface—unless you’re an archaeologist or a very optimistic metal detectorist. But the site is protected, and its story lives on in museums and local lore. If you’re ever driving the A46 near Bingham, give a little nod to the fields—you’re passing through history.