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Church and State in Late Roman Antiquity

P. J. DeMola is a postgraduate of the School of Archaeology and Ancient History at the University of Leicester in England.
His principle areas of interest are Roman history, archaeology, and politics, as well as Bronze Age Mesopotamia, and the political history of Middle Kingdom through Late Period Ancient Egypt. He has broad general interests in both Classic and Postclassic Mesoamerican sociopolitical structures.
Paul has studied Ancient Greek and Latin under Professor Graham Shipley, FRHistS, FSA (University of Leicester, British School at Athens), and researched Roman military history with Professor Simon James, FSA (University of Leicester).

If you think you understand the politics of ‘church and state’ relations, then you don’t understand the nature of Christianity in ancient Rome. Late Roman and Christian relationships were at an intercultural turning point by the conclusion of the reign of Diocletian. Relations between Church and State developed as a product of political and social tensions evolving from certain ‘secular’ aspects of late Roman culture. Rome, as a political entity, was in transition from the more traditional ‘pagan’ practices of its past, to a more nominally ‘Christianized’ social environment. Various social, political and economic factors influenced power struggles between church leaders and their secular counterparts. Within the first half the 3rd century, Roman hierarchical order had been pervaded by bishops, whilst Christian ideology coopted many of the old pagan customs of the masses.

 

The ‘Christianized’ Secular Period

During the period of AD 313-363 — roughly from the time of the Edict of Milan to the death of Julian the Apostate — relations of Church and State developed as a product of political and social tensions evolving from certain secular aspects of late Roman culture. Rome, as a political entity, was in a transition from its traditional ‘pagan’ past, to a more nominally ‘Christianized’ social environment. A synthesis of religious piety, pagan ritual and political expediency played out against a backdrop of civil wars and social turmoil. As a result, the historical record reflects a complex era — one that is as much a part of the later Roman period, as it is Late Antiquity. Consequently, the many processes involved during this period are overlapping and difficult to untangle.

Similarly, the latter 4th and early 5th centuries are fraught with political convulsions as the Roman Empire was besieged with existential threats both domestic and foreign. ‘Barbarian’ hoards threatened the stability of the frontiers (literally, limes), whilst subcultural movements generated political havoc. The result was a social volatility that both influenced and was impacted by various institutions. Against this backdrop, the Church’s role seems at first glance passive — at times nothing more than a source of ecclesiastical reportage of current events. For example, Ambrose’s account of the Hunnic onslaught and St. Jerome’s lamentation of the sack of Rome appear as romantic commentaries (Heather 2005: 190; Cameron 1993: 139). However, the reality is the Church was an active player in historical events; even shaping them through the pen.

Over a sixty-seven-year arc (AD 363-430), the Church increasingly expanded into the State arena. This was the product of many causes, among them the fact that Church leadership morphed into a religious oligarchy, supplanting the venerable pagan priesthoods and establishing areas of influence at the imperial court. The result was a rivaling of the old senatorial class, as Christian clergy became the new political élite (LRE 2014: 208-31). At the societal level, Christianity superseded areas of responsibility that were traditionally the purview of Roman cults. Collectively, this stress to governmental structure transformed the nature of its institutional relations into one where Church and State aims essentially aligned. I shall now examine this period in more detail, to reveal how the Church became the State.

Strength in Numbers

It has been stated that Constantine’s support of Christianity in the early decades of the 300s may have made the nascent faith ‘the dominate religion’ of the western world (See Cameron 1993: 77, Cf. 78). This is pure exaggeration. The suggestion that any single human — albeit backed by a political system — is responsible for the sheer scope of Christianity, obscures the intersocial character of Roman-Christianity. For example, churches could be found in Britannia, Carthage and Rome by AD 313. As for the numbers of Christians themselves, as early as the first century, the Apostle James stated that ‘myriads of Jews’ were followers of Christ (Acts of the Apostles 21:20). The use of the plural noun μυριάδες is interesting here because taken literally, it translates as ‘(groupings of) tens of thousands’. When coupled with the size of the population of Jerusalem — estimated to be between 50,000 and 250,000 — this suggests a significant portion of a major eastern center were ‘believers’ at this early Christian juncture (See also Bauckham 1995: 240-43).

From this premise one may extrapolate that the numbers of Christians at non-Jewish (i.e. Gentile) centers may have been equally numerous, especially by the second decade of the 300s. Utilizing primary sources from different periods (e.g. Origen, Eusebius), some scholars have inferred that the number of believers which inhabited the Empire during the early fourth century was quite small (Novak 2001: 119-20; Mitchell 2007: 239). However, the virtual absence of data relating to the number of urban poor Christians throughout the Empire renders any such assumptions invalid. Moreover, the possibility of social prejudice — which might impact an individual’s economic or political standing — suggests early Christians from affluent backgrounds would have been less inclined to identify themselves publically (Cf. Cooper 2007: 161).

Hidden Landscapes, Hidden Agendas

Therefore, I posit that on the eve of the Battle of the Milvian Bridge, Christians were part of a ‘hidden landscape’ that was an integral part of later Roman society (Cooper 2007: 161; contra Cameron 1993: 57; Mitchell 2007: 239; Cf. Stark 1996: 5-9). After all, had the Christian community of AD 313 consisted of only a few insignificant groups existing on the fringes of society, why did the Empire expend so much energy trying to eradicate them (e.g. the ‘persecution edicts’ of AD 202, 249, 250 and 303-12) (See Timbie 2010: 96). It makes little sense. In any case, the dearth of information suggests that the true number of believers is understated in the historical records.

This may be supported by aspects of early fourth century Christian literature which, intriguingly, sought to reconcile Græco-Roman culture and Christian doctrine in an attempt to portray itself as the remedy to a crumbling ‘civilization’ (Cf. St. Basil, Letters; Lactantius, Divinarum institutionum libri VII). One must ask though, who was the intended audience of these musings? The message could not just be for small rural groups. For example, whilst Lactantius warned of an imminent ‘end of Rome’, Eusebius of Caesarea and others worked to recast imperial policy in light of Christian understanding (See also Cameron 1993: 44, 61). Later, individuals such as the Cappadocian Fathers, encouraged young Christians en masse to pursue a classical education. Arguably, the goal of these ‘preachers’ was to shape a grand narrative for all Romans, of a Christian interpretation of the classical world (Brown 1971: 84, 104; Mitchell 2007: 272). In other words, the intent was to forge different segments of society into a Christian Empire (Cameron 1993: 58-59).

The Statist Bishop

Accordingly, it may be argued that it was politically expedient for Constantine to embrace Christianity. For example, changing attitudes toward Christianity in early fourth century Rome necessitated a change in official Roman policy. This is enshrined in the celebrated Edict of Milan (Cameron 1993: 51). Effectively, this decree rescinded all remaining official forms of persecution throughout the Empire. Furthermore, having been issued jointly by Constantine and Licinius — representing both the Western and Eastern halves of the Empire — it may underscore the utilization of Christianity as a sort of a ‘national salve’ for a divided society recovering from civil wars. However, when Licinius passed antichristian decrees — such as the banning of Christian assembly and synodsBishop Eusebius reacted with swift condemnation (Eusebius, Vita Constantini 1.51-54.1, 2.1-2).

It has been suggested that Licinius was predisposed to favor Christianity (Cameron 1993: 57). So, how does one explain a series of anti-Christian legislation? It may be dismissed as hyperbole on the part of Eusebius (Mitchell 2007: 242). On the other hand, it is possible that there existed an antichristian element in the eastern imperial court that pressured Licinius (See also Mitchell 2007: 242). If so, this could highlight regional hostilities from certain segments of pagan communities towards Christian groups. Regardless, Eusebius’ reaction may have been further impetus for Constantine to eliminate Licinius. That is to say, it provided Constantine with ecclesiastical support for pursuing a war with Licinius. As such, this episode amplifies the essential role bishops played in fourth century social-politics as Church and State goals blended (Mitchell 2007: 241, 261; See also LRE 2014: 151).

However, the role of bishop was not reserved to acting the part of a religious consigliore to the Emperor or community organizer. Eusebius’ role as ‘official biographer’ for Constantine I helped to mold his reputation as a ‘Christian king’. Thus, it was practical for the emperor to cultivate a relationship with an individual that possessed great influence among Constantine’s ever increasing Roman-Christian subjects. In a sense, as he strives to describe the emperor in a positive light, Bishop Eusebius mirrored the pagan biographers of his time. Such as Ammianus account of Julian’s restitution of pagan rituals in AD 362 (See Cameron 1993: 60-61; Cf. Ammianus 22.5). In this fashion, the bishop had clearly become a valuable political tool at the imperial level.

Onward Christian Soldiers

On the basis of archaeological, epigraphic and textual evidence, some scholars have argued that Christians did not make up an appreciable size of the Roman army, while others have suggested that there were entire ‘Christian legions’ (Dando-Collins 2010: 461, 520; contra Mitchell 2007: 247; Horsley 1987: 123-24; Osborn 1997: 84-85; Cf. Acts 10:1-48). To be sure, during the third century, Tertullian showered hostility on the idea of believers enlisting in the North African legions, suggesting this was a common practice to do so (Dunn 2000: 30-31). However, early to mid-fourth century sources appear to be somewhat silent on the subject (See Dando-Collins 2010: 80). On the other hand, two units of the Praetorian Guard displayed Christian motifs on their shields.

What can be said then?

Because recent persecutions would have been carried out by the army, and given the disproportionately high number of pagans serving in the legions, it is likely that antichristian bigotry was common within the Roman legions during the second decade of the fourth century. Reasonably, this might have quieted soldiers in some quarters from openly confessing any Christian beliefs (Cf. Kuefler 2001: 107-08). This might explain why early fourth century sources are somewhat ambiguous as to their numbers. Conversely, it is plausible that Licinius’ edict compelling soldiers to make sacrifice is indicative of the presence of Christian soldiers openly refusing to participate in the pagan ritual (Barnes 1981: 71). That being said, it may follow that in the east Christian soldiers were more conspicuous.

For example, in AD 320, Pachomius founded a prototype monastery in Tabennisi, Egypt which emphasized communal living over solidarity. An interesting aspect of Pachomius was the fact that he was a former Roman soldier. In addition, his personal philosophy emphasized collectivism and mutual hard work within a ‘community of believers’, or ‘soldiers of Christ’ (Cameron 1993: 82). It may be inferred that his military background was expressed in the collective and ordered manner his monasteries were run. Within a few years, Pachomius had converted seven thousand individuals to an ascetic message (Brown 1971: 99, 101). It should be noted that these monks were in many cases intellectual members of Roman society who were drawn from (potential) public service into a Church lifestyle at the expense of worldly pleasures and general comforts (Brown 1971: 101; Cf. Mathew 19:21-22). It would be interesting to speculate on how many of Pachomius’ converts were former Roman soldiers, but the answer to that question may never be known.

Irrespective, one may get a sense of the complex and changing nature of Roman identity as the relationship between Church and State developed. But how did austere themes become popular amongst hedonistic segments of society? It may be argued that, once legalized, the Church simply ‘Christianized’ pagan philosophies by adopting many of their shared virtues (See Brown 1971: 96-98). For example, fourth century Roman society was already conditioned by Neoplatonism and its pagan forms of asceticism (Cf. Mitchell 2007: 270). Moreover, pagan heroes, such as Plotinus, may have even inspired the lifestyle of Christian monks, such as Anthony the Great (See also Cameron 1993: 82).

A Woman’s Place

According to textual evidence — such as hagiography, letters and imperial decrees — it appears that one of the impacts of Christianity on Roman culture was the more active role women began to play publicly (LRE 2014: 207; See also Mitchell 2007: 87-88). This was counterintuitive to mos maiorum and probably a result of the many functions women held in the early Church (e.g. Luke 8:1-3, Romans 16). However, it should be noted that a Roman-Christian’s concept of ‘public’ only selectively differed from the more pagan traditions of paterfamilias and its hierarchal structure vis-à-vis a woman’s ‘place’ (Cf. Allison 1999: 11; See also Cooper 2007: 54-55, 101). In other words, while women may have been charged publicly with certain church duties, they still held a subservient place to men in Roman state society (See Cameron 1993: 24).

Nevertheless, changing attitudes with regards to men and women was accompanied by a change in existing Roman law. For instance, in AD 320, Constantine repealed the anti-celibacy article of the lex Julia de maritandis ordinibus which forfeited the rights of inheritance to a young woman if she became celibate — a condition of service to the Church (Cameron 1993: 128; See also Cooper 2007: 112-13). Essentially, this law was intended to encourage marriage and childbearing. The repeal, however, represented a significant shift in policy as it had the potential of impacting the social structure of the Roman state by abolishing financial penalties meant to preserve property for the materfamilias in the traditional Roman household (See ‘corpora of property’ in Cooper 2007: 112). I’m not suggesting a demographic convulsion to the state, per se.

Nevertheless, the net result was young women of different social standings taking celibacy vows and entering convents. A case in point may be seen in the young widow Melania the Elder. A noblewoman, she left her only surviving son in Rome to make a pilgrimage across the Empire and live at a monastery (Salisbury 2001: 223-25). A somewhat different example is the life of Macrina the Younger (Fig.3), the daughter of Basil the Elder (Cameron 1993: 24, 83). While Macrina’s early social status is a bit murky, she eventually adopted asceticism and went to ‘live in the wilderness’ while preaching against classical learning (See Holböck 2002: 56-58). From a traditional standpoint, this is shocking. The idea of women from Roman families not marrying to enlarge and preserve the heritage of their paterfamilias, and embracing a public role preaching against conventional Roman education and Græco-Roman virtues, symbolizes a transformation in society, if not in the role of the materfamilias herself (Cf. Cooper 2007: 111-14). That is to say, essential elements of Roman identity (i.e. the ‘Romanness’ of being Roman), were either altering, or, if you prefer, ‘declining’ from their classical perch.

Moreover, by allowing property to follow non-materfamilias females into the monastic world, it had the long-term effect of transferring great amounts of public wealth from one institution — the State — to another — the Church (See Brown 1971: 108-09; Cf. Cooper 2007: 113). This may be deduced from Constantine’s edict allowing Churches to inherit property (Codex Theodosianus 16.2.4). For example, upon her father’s death, Macrina had her family’s estate converted into a covenant (Smith 2006: 224). Thus, a domain which could have possibly housed generations of Roman families invested in civic service, became a perpetual home for virginal women vowed to Christ, and poverty. For a society rooted in public consumption and materialism this had long-term implications (Cf. Heather 2006: 120-23). In any case, it may be argued that bishops, monks and nuns — without family obligations, well-funded, and possessing the ear of the people — redeveloped the Roman landscape.

The Thirteenth Apostle

Another fascinating aspect of the Church and State’s ever-changing relations may be seen in the Decurion controversy of the 320s. In c. AD 320, Constantine issued a judgment that ‘clerics’ were ‘not to be taxed’, and they and their immediate family were excused from civic duties (Codex Theodosianus 16.2.10; Cf. Codex Theodosianus 16.2.1, 2). This may have been an honest attempt to encourage public participation in church service by easing any financial hindrances on Christian charity, while elevating the State’s new Religio Romana (Cf. Mitchell 2007: 258). After all, the Church could aid the State in helping urban and poorer communities. However, it may equally be viewed as a sign of political theater, such as Constantine’s law exempting rabbis from public service (Codex Theodosianus 16.8.2). Edicts such as these generally elicit a positive reaction from their target audience. This is not to impugn Constantine’s personal religious convictions, but to point out his dual nature as a Christian Emperor.

Irrespective, Constantine created an incentive for citizens to join the clergy which had unintended consequences. Members of the Decurion class which was responsible for the maintenance of public facilities within local Roman communities, began to enter church administration to circumvent levies intended for civic amenities (LRE 2014: 68). By AD 326 Constantine had clarified the law to exclude Decurions from joining the clergy (LRE 2014: 69). It may be implied that over a few years an urban crisis had ensued: aqueducts and bath houses probably fell into disrepair, and annona (i.e. free corn dole) distribution declined (See also Harl 1996: 263-64). Here, it may be observed that a shift from pagan to Christian beliefs was motivated strictly by state monetary benefits.

Nevertheless, this should not be construed as cynicism of religious conversion. For example, during the early fourth century Christians already numbered among the senators of Rome (Potter 2014: 309). Evidence for this may be seen on the sarcophagus of one Junius Bassus — ‘a man of senatorial rank’ — which contained Christian iconography and inscriptions (Lee 2000: 97). However, one may infer from Zosimus’ writings that these ‘Christian senators’ were a minority status during the 320s (See LRE 2014: 78). Unsurprisingly, with a pagan majority, hostilities from the senate toward anti-pagan imperial decrees persisted throughout the fourth century (See Mitchell 2007: 247-48). That being said, it would not have necessarily benefited a senator’s reputation among colleagues to be labeled a ‘Christian’.

Conversely, Constantine the Great waded into a religious debate that may hint at the depth of his personal convictions. In the early 320s, the divinity of Christ was called into question by the Arians who disputed the essence of Christ as equal to God the Father (Cameron 1993: 69-70). The result was a series of synods, culminating in the first ecumenical council being called at Nicaea in AD 325 by the emperor — a political figure — to resolve the matter. Unlike some have suggested, however, I believe it was part of Constantine’s intention to have the nature of Christ defined by the council, not just in an attempt to reconcile disparate Christian sects, but as a means of solidifying public support from the non-Arian majority (See Mitchell 2007: 282). In this way, Constantine would have aligned the Church with his administration, and better integrate the bureaucracy into his post as ‘God’s Representative’ (Cf. Cameron 1993: 68). In any case, Constantine’s usage of co-substantial, literally ὁμοούσιος, to define Christ relationship with God (the Father) was so profound that it has influenced.

Churchscape: Mary is Good to Think With

  As we progress through the century, Church and State relationships become most visible in the effect they had on the architectural landscape. For example, in Ephesus, the Church of Mary was constructed during the reign of the Eastern Roman Emperor Theodosius II (Cameron 1993: 172). The location and choice of subject for this dedication is unsurprising as it is Church tradition that the Virgin Mary ascended to Heaven from Ephesus (Cameron 1993: 172). However, rather fascinating is the fact that the basilica was erected next to an earlier Græco-Roman temple — the Temple of Hadrian Olympios — dedicated to the Imperial Cult of the Emperor Hadrian who identified himself as Zeus. Now, on the one hand it may be argued that to the Church, the construction of a sacred structure in this location symbolized a triumph of Christian Rome over its pagan past. However, the temple’s 4th century history conflicts to a certain degree with this interpretation.

For instance, in AD 380, the Proconsul of Asia funded a restoration of the Olympieion which included the insertion of panels depicting the Christian Emperor Theodosius I alongside the goddess Artemis (the Roman Diana) (Cameron 1993: 172; Wilkin 1999: 45). Ironically, that project was coterminous with an edict issued by Theodosius which declared that citizens ‘should live by that religion which divine Peter the apostle is said to have given to the Romans’ (Codex Theodosianus 16.1.2). This presents a paradox. Why would a devoted Christian emperor be featured prominently alongside a pagan goddess? Perhaps the proconsul was expressing his own antichristian bigotry? This is unlikely. A staunch believer and close friend of St. Jerome, the proconsul was Nummius Aemilianus Dexter, the son of Bishop Pacianus (Jerome, De Viris Illustribus Preface, CXXXII, and XXIII).

On the other hand, it may be assumed that work on the renovation was conducted by Ephesian artisans (See Laale 2011: 234). Conceivably, it could follow that Dexter might have been channelling antichristian sentiments from a pagan populace. That is to say that ‘pagan Ephesians’ wanted to associate the emperor with Artemis, and Dexter was merely ‘going along’ for the ride. This interpretation may find support in past imperial decisions, such as Theodosius’ decision to keep temples open for ‘artistic’ reasons (Codex Theodosianus 16.10.8). That decision was meant to placate public anxieties regarding pagan traditions. If this is the case, it could be implied that the late 4th century Ephesians resisted Christianity (Cf. Book of Revelation 2:1-5). Of course, this conclusion also presupposes a strong antichristian bias amongst a population that is presumed to have been predominately pagan.

However, I posit a different solution. It wildly known that Asia Minor had a long and integrated socioeconomic history with the goddess Artemis, and that Ephesus is considered her ‘birthplace’ (Ferguson 1987: 198; Beard et al. 1998: 360). Equally, Christianity possessed a strong presence in the region quite early, and Christian-Ephesians had a history of encounters with the followers of Artemis (Acts of the Apostles 19:23-41). For example, by the end of the 1st century, pagan Ephesians dissented from their Christianized counterparts, typically over monetary issues (See Acts of the Apostles 19:25). I suggest that this cyclical dialogue between two groups created a pagan:Christian dichotomy which eventually diffused within an idolized interpretation of the Virgin Mary (Cf. Book of Revelation 2:1-5). In other words, Mary was beginning to overshadow or encapsulate Artemis.

This may be deduced from central characteristics of Artemis, such as her virginity and the requirement that her priestesses be virgins (Llewellyn-Jones 2006: 89; Cf. Mitchell 2007: 108). Separately, the maintenance of the imperial cult — as supported by the emperor and enshrined in the Temple of Hadrian Olympios — was essential to the political standing of Ephesus (See also Trebilco 2007: 30). That being said, it is probable that late 4th century Ephesians were simply holding onto traditional pagan symbolism for a practical reason (e.g. financial, or political), whilst genuinely embracing Romanized Christianity which — through a diffusion with a pagan cult — had become more tolerable (Cf. ‘religious fluidity’ in LRE 2014: 222).

Interestingly, it is the process of diffusion — encoded in the Theodosius/Artemis artwork of the Temple of Hadrian Olympios — that is essential to understanding the nature of Church and State relations at Ephesus. In short, it becomes evident that paganism preconditioned the Ephesians for Marion theology. Or, put another way, Artemis might be observed as the pagan parallel to the Virgin Mary. Accordingly, the display of a Christian emperor with a pagan deity may not necessarily have compromised an Ephesian’s beliefs because of a bifurcated religious identity rooted in commonalities between competing cults. The long-term implications of this religious synthesis may be observed in the relative success 4th century Christians had in promoting the cult of the Virgin Mary within Asia Minor (Mitchell 2007: 108).

For example, the (one time) virgin Empress Pulcheria and her sisters were key players in the perpetuation of Marion Christianity within the Roman State (Mitchell 2007: 108). Perhaps the result of their efforts can be found in the building of the Church of Mary at Ephesus. Fascinatingly, the timing of the church’s construction (c. AD 420s) coincided with the Nestorian debate over the nature of Christ and the usage of the title ‘Mother of God’, literally Θεοτόκος (Mitchell 2007: 190-91). Thus, an interreligious doctrinal statement might be implied by the edifice. Collectively, a triangulating picture emerges as pagan tradition is interwoven into Church and State politics. The irony being that an active pagan complex also housed a shrine to the mother of Christ.

The Twin Eternal Cities

Turning to the city of Rome — once a thousand-year bastion for paganism — Christianity found architectural expression which reflected both the evolution of Church and State relations that facilitated a ‘decline’ of paganism (contra Salzman 2010: 191-223). Case in point, in AD 386 Emperor Theodosius I commissioned that a new cathedral, the Basilica Papale di San Paolo fuori le Mura, be erected over a smaller Constantinian period structure. The expansion of a church structure might be an architectural metaphor symbolizing political diffusion between State and Church objectives.

In addition, it may provide a picture of the increasing social inclusion of Roman-Christians within urban Italy (See also LRE 2014: 178-79). Still, the basilica is located outside the Aurelian Walls away from the pagan temple center and this may suggest a lack of tolerance (Cf. LRE 2014: 176). Nonetheless, it sits along the Via Ostiensis immediately adjacent to the sentry gate Porta San Paolo on the road to seaport town of Ostia (Ammianus 1986: 500). Consequently, travelers and merchants making treks between Rome and Ostia met with a magnificent shrine that supposedly housed the remains of the great Apostle to the Gentiles.

Another example appears in the (then) new capital of the Western Empire: Milan. Here, Bishop Ambrose (see below) personally oversaw the erection of the colossal Basilica Ambrosiana in AD 375 (Cameron 1993: 126). At the time, Ambrose was Bishop of Milan and part of his duties included raising funds for religious ventures (Smith 2003: 160). Concurrently, municipal patronage shifted away from civic infrastructure and was redirected toward Christian building projects (Brown 1971: 108-09). Viewed from this perspective, the Ambrosiana may be a by-product of the struggles between Christianity and paganism, as a new ‘religious élite’ — sheered from its secular past — converted public space into a Christian setting. A similar occurrence might be seen at the SS Giovanni e Paolo which was financed by the patronage of one Pammachius, a Roman-Christian senator (LRE 2014: 179). The dedication stone boldly citing Pammachius by name — is a wonderful example of Christians becoming more open about their beliefs.

Be that as it may, the Ambrosiana became a focus of Christian refuge during a time of politico-religious turmoil. For instance, during a push by Emperor Valentinian II in AD 386 to install an Arian bishop at Milan, congregational believers led by Ambrose barricaded themselves inside the basilica refusing to accept the controversial appointment (Mitchell 2007: 272). Interestingly, this episode showcases the changing political dynamics in late Roman society as imperial decisions were now increasingly ‘peer-reviewed’ by the Church. Eventually the résistance won the struggle and Valentinian — an Arian himself — withdrew his forces and his controversial appointment.

Consequently, the playing out of doctrinal differences within Church and State institutions resulted in a heretical Emperor acquiescing to the wishes of an orthodox Bishop and his congregation (i.e. the church, or ἐκκλησία — the new Roman masses). In other words, an internal political decision was governed by religious pressure. Moreover, it may be inferred that the State’s influence in many socioeconomic matters — such as charitable and religious affairs — had yielded to the purview of the Church strictly because Christianity was adopted by the masses (Cf. Julian, Letter 84; See also LRE 2014: 179-80). All the while, the Ambrosiana itself functioned quite literally as a battleground for sociocultural transformation.

However, diversion of public funds and doctrinal disputations were not the only feature of Church and State relations symbolized by a church construction. It should be noted that the Church’s ability to frame communal festivities around non-pagan activities was useful. For example, during the late 4th century, the dedication of two buildings in Gaza met with public jubilance (Cameron 1993: 175-76). Drinking and fireworks were followed by cavorting on a scale unusual for ‘Christian’ ceremonies. Traditionally, such behavior was associated with pagan rituals. However, by ‘Christianizing’ activities once associated with civic functions, the Church was arguably able to redirect and conform secular energies to Church programs. In a sense, it could be seen as reverse evangelism, where ‘worldly’ conduct infected church life (Cf. Maiuma in Mitchell 2007: 229).

Deconstructionism

It was not always what was constructed but rather deconstructed that typified the playing out of Church and State affairs. More often than not, the late 4th and early 5th centuries saw the destruction of non-Christian structures which assisted in ‘converting’ the pagan landscape. For instance, in AD 386, the Praetorian Prefect of the eastern Empire Maternus Cynegius led a group of monks in the pillaging of a number of pagan temples in Mesopotamia and Asia Minor (Fig.6) (Libanius, Speech; Theodoret, Historia Ecclesiastica, V.21). In addition, that same year a temple of Zeus in Syria was destroyed in a violent anti-pagan uprising led by Bishop Marcellus which saw many pagan Romans massacred by Roman-Christians (Cameron 1993: 75). A commonality of these raids — one led by a state official and the other a member of clergy — is that it was believers, not the military, which carried them out. In other words, Christians had become violent about their convictions.

That being said, given the geographical expanse and systematic manner in which these raids were carried out, it appears that they were a religious form of ‘ethnic cleansing’. This may be supported by a comparison with previous, more moderate ‘Valentinianesque’ laws that did not touch the buildings themselves (See Codex Theodosianus 16.10.8; Cf. Codex Theodosianus 9.16.9). A picture begins to emerge where Church and State policies fused in the form of ancient pogroms. Moreover, it may be argued that the Church not only had the blessings of the emperor but possessed incredible sway over people and the local magistrates (Trombley 1993: 124). So, why did State’s policies evolve into open hostilities on pagan subjects? From various sources, I have put together a short hypothesis which may illuminate the motives behind the change.

‘The Opium of the Masses’

The earlier policies of Theodosius I targeted pagan ritual and did not encourage violence against pagan subjects. In fact, initiation rituals such as the taurobolium were tolerated, and a common circumvention of anti-sacrificial edicts (LRE 2014: 189-90). It should be noted that a strong pagan element existed within aristocratic Rome, embodied by the likes of Praetextatus and Flavianus (LRE 2014: 180). However, by the 380s, social unrest was afoot, instigated largely by Christian clergy. For example, in AD 383, the pagan Prefect of Rome Symmachus expressed concerns for the survival of paganism; later raising the issue of religious toleration (Symmachus, Letters 1.51; Symmachus, Memorandum 3.3-10).

Taken literally, it may be inferred that believers — whose numbers had increased throughout the 4th century — were becoming increasingly hostile toward sanctuaries of pagan worship (Cf. De Mola 2014: 2-3). Moreover, it suggests that the role of bishop was on parity with the emperor. This decline of imperial supremacy in matters of the Church can be traced back to Valentinian I when he suggested his power did not extend into the Church (Sozomen, Church History 6.21.7). In any case, Bishop Ambrose’s boldness in insisting that Valentinian II resist non-Christian courtiers, may be interpreted as a sign of an increasingly vociferous pro-Christian populace. This perspective may be supported by Ambrose’s personal communiques to Theodosius at Constantinople which (coincidentally?) preceded an Empire wide ban on pagan rituals (See Codex Theodosianus 16.10.10).

What can be said then? In less than a decade, the Church had grown in court influence, while more radicalized elements of Christianity spearheaded change to public perceptions. The result? A transformation of imperial policy toward pagans which gave rise to the destruction of ancient edifices and the massacre of pagan Romans. Viewed in this light, the aggressive actions of Cynegius might be seen as the direct product of the Church, and not necessarily an action spawn by the government.

In other words, while preaching to Roman masses, the Church pushed the limits of existing laws and pressured officials to sanction a wave of anti-pagan violence. The State — seemingly losing control of its own affairs — legitimized such behavior by giving its stamp of approval. In such an environment, is it any wonder why Libanius chose to speak brazenly to an emperor when he warned of imminent conflict between pagans and Christians (Lee 2000: 121)? From this train of thought, it may be concluded that the rise of Arbogast and subsequent death of Valentinian II (AD 392) was the inevitable consequence of Christian overreach into political affairs, but this is just speculation.

A similar display of imperial subservience to the Church can be seen in its dealings with Jews. A case in point being the destruction of a Callinicum synagogue in AD 388 by riotous Christians (Ferguson 1999: 43; Mitchell 2007: 236). Angered over the incident, Emperor Theodosius I demanded that the citizens pay for the restoration of the synagogue. However, Bishop Ambrose utterly rejected the notion that Christians should pay reparations to the Jews; going so far as to label them ‘condemned’ by God — ironically quoting the Hebrew Prophet Jeremiah as he did (Ambrose, Letter 87). Moreover, he compelled Theodosius to summarily rescind his own edict (Lee 2000: 159-62).

Consequently, the destruction of a part of the Jewish landscape reflected the power of the Church at the expense of the emperor. It also suggests — given Ambrose’s writings — that the Church essentially viewed Jews as ‘pagans’. However, it should be noted that the Codex Theodosianus also prevented Jews from being declared ‘heretics’, thus preserving their existence in the Empire (Foa 2000: 26; See also Codex Theodosianus 16.8.9; contra 16.8.24). Perhaps then it would be best to categorize Jews as an anomaly amongst the Romans of our period — neither pagan, nor Christian. Nonetheless, the affair at Callinicum displays a dark twist on Church and State relationships simply because it provides a glimpse into the future of Christian perceptions of Jews as the medieval world draws nigh.

Conclusions

In this article, I have discussed in some detail the playing out of relationships between the Church and State during the period of AD 363-430. To begin with, I inferred through demographic analysis of historical data, a reasonable hypothesis as to the scope of Christianity at the start of our period. This formed the theoretical foundation for my discussion as it provided a premise for deductions involving Christianity’s influence on political structures. From here, I discussed the role of bishops as religious courtiers and their function in remodeling state policy. Turning to monasticism, I examined the role monks and nuns had in reshaping cultural philosophy and how this may have transformed economic and social institutions which impacted governmental organizations. In addition, I analyzed the politico-religious difficulties arising from the administration of a ‘Christian Empire’. All the while, I endeavored to highlight changes to State and Church relations, as the latter developed and eventually upended many of the cultural traditions of the former.

During the second half I examined material remains in light of historical sources. Drawing comparisons between religious beliefs and architectural structures, I analyzed the ‘Churchscape’ of the east and west as Christianity spread throughout the empire. This allowed for an in depth theoretical survey of Christian doctrine and its reflection in the urban landscape. How Christian thought came to occupy and mould human space. From here, I turned to highlighting the pagan heritage of Roman Christian belief, or, perhaps better put, Romanized Christianity. Utilizing ancient biographers and their writings, I outlined religious conflict and diffusion as it played out in the historical landscape. This led into a description of the growing role the Church bishop played and how his authority and influence devolved from a weakening imperial court. I presented this as a hypothesis which, in part, formed a second underlining theme of this paper.

My conclusion is that the Church blended with the State, until the imperial office (within reason) became acquiescent to Church affairs. Of course, broadly, this depended on many variables, such as the personage of the bishop, strength of the emperor and the period in question. This is one of the reasons why I chose the early 360’s — specifically the end of Julian’s reign — as a dividing point for this topic. Arguably, the reign of Julian the Apostate was a turning point in the affairs of both Rome and Christianity. In any case, Church and State relations would continue to fluctuate until the end of the Western Empire.


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The Hohokam: Canal Masters of the American Southwest

P. J. DeMola is a postgraduate of the School of Archaeology and Ancient History at the University of Leicester in England.
His principle areas of interest are Roman history, archaeology, and politics, as well as Bronze Age Mesopotamia, and the political history of Middle Kingdom through Late Period Ancient Egypt. He has broad general interests in both Classic and Postclassic Mesoamerican sociopolitical structures.
Paul has studied Ancient Greek and Latin under Professor Graham Shipley, FRHistS, FSA (University of Leicester, British School at Athens), and researched Roman military history with Professor Simon James, FSA (University of Leicester).

During the High Middle Ages, whilst Western Europe was still coping with the sociopolitical disorder and economic decline which had engulfed the continent since the fall of Rome, the Hohokam of the North American Southwest were reaching their pinnacle of economic prosperity and social organization (Brown 1988: 1-61; Smith 2004: 14). Interestingly, the Hohokam or ‘those who have gone before’ are not as well known as some of their contemporaries, such as the Pueblo III era Anasazi, the Aztecs and the late-Classic/Postclassic Maya (Justice 2002: 275; Milner 2009: 680; Webster and Evans 2009: 596). Nonetheless, the Hohokam were a productive and expansive culture, whose innovations influenced subsequent Native American and post-Columbian generations (Browman et al. 2009: 320; See also Smith 2004: 23-93).

Center to Hohokam culture was their technologically sophisticated canal engineering which was utilized to irrigate numerous sub-communities (Abbott 2000: 48). At its peak (c. AD 1150-1450), the Hohokam hydraulic system was the largest of the day and provided water (and consequently food) to tens of thousands of rural inhabitants, rivaling the excellence of the ancient Roman aqueducts — an urban engineering marvel (Medchill 2012, pers.comm.; Logan 2002: 31; cf Aicher 1995: 6). Moreover, through a vast array of human-made waterways, otherwise disunified subcultural ‘villages’ were integrated into a highly complex agricultural based society (Abbott 2000: 143; Abbott et al. 2003: 15). Thus, one may argue, that the increasing needs of an agrarian society was an incentive for the centralized management of inter-communal water facilitation, which in turn resulted in a closely knit farming society that was regionally unsurpassed in crop production (cf Milner 2009: 692, 694).

How is archaeological survey and excavation changing our understanding of Hohokam agriculture and irrigation? To answer this, I shall critically discuss several examples from both the Preclassic (c. AD 700-1150) and Classic (c. AD 1150-1450) Hohokam Periods. Specifically, I will draw from a host of archaeological subcategories such as botanical, hydrological and settlement patterns, with some perspectives coming from my recent fieldwork at the Riverview Archaeological Project.

Part I: The Dry Farmers

Evolving Cultigen Patterns

Research into the selection of agricultural crops may be a rather unique reflection of the evolution of Hohokam irrigation. For example, archaeobotanical evidence has revealed that cultigens, such as the legume tepary and the herb amaranth (Fig. 1), were popular with the Classic Hohokam especially during the Sacaton-Soho (Sedentary) transition phase (c. AD 1050-1150) (Browman et al. 2009: 320-321; Elson 1998: 7; Barnes and Breternitz 1988: 54). Other agricultural genera excavated from Classic Period contexts include cucurbita (squash) and P. vulgaris (common beans) (Foster 2012: 39; Kwiatkowski 2003: 50). This is in stark contrast to their more homogenous Preclassic taste for ‘traditional’ cultigens such as maize — a species found sparingly in Classic contexts but abundantly in Preclassic phases (Browman et al. 2009: 316; cf Foster 2012: 91). Some have explained this apparent disparity between Preclassic and Classic horticulture as indicative of archaeological bias from poor sampling techniques (See Browman et al. 2009: 316, 318).

Perhaps there is validity to this argument. Funding for Hohokam field research has been infinitesimal since the start of the Great Recession and this has impacted specialist studies (Howard 2012, pers. comm.). However, an equally valid interpretation is that a growing diversity of plant based food products during the Classic Period was a direct result of expanding farming communities; a development caused by the increasing sophistication of the canal system and exploitation of arable land (See also pre-Columbian ‘soil changes’ in Fish 2000: 258-259). Arguably, the plethora of these otherwise ‘Mesoamerican’ species in Classic Hohokam contexts implies escalating trade with the south which may be the product of increased socioeconomic complexity — a process also reflected in Hohokam irrigation (see below) (Abbott  2003: 15; contra Foster 2012: 9192).

As the irrigation systems became more integrated, farming intensified and the Classic Period Hohokam added to their subsistent resources by domesticating wild plant types as can be seen in the cultivation of the monocot agave, an arid perennial (Phillips 2009: 698). Additionally, survey and excavation of several sites, such as Hodges, have indicated that these ‘transplanted desert species’ included the now virtually extinct lycium berlandieri (a Southwest American wolfberry), hoffmannseggia densiflora (a rushpea potato) and a variety of species from the subfamily chenopodioideae for pseudocereal usage (Gibbon 1998: 364; Fish 2000: 260; Hodgson 2001: 236; Moerman 2010: 128, 437; Scupin and DeCorse 2003: 193). Moreover, the Hohokam cultivated the genus of hordeum known as pusillum (a wild grass), most likely to provide a crop that could be harvested year-round (Hodgson 2001: 66). However, as the Civano Phase Hohokam (c. AD 1300-1375) were faced with horrendous cycles of droughts and floods which negatively impacted their ecosystem, they were forced to rely on broader subsistence strategies (Elson 1998: 7; Howard 2012, pers. comm.; Phillips 2012, pers. comm.).

Living off the Land

For example, evidence from the Tucson occupation zone (see below) suggests that the Hohokam established seasonal camps to obtain supplemental food sources from the ‘thriving desert’ (Fish et al. 1992a: 14-17; Blythe 2009: 45). On the other hand, these ‘outposts’ may have been positioned in familiar terrain for the express purpose of exploiting certain wild species to support communal sustenance. For instance, archaeological evidence has indicated that villagers foraged for cacti fruit from species such as C. gigantea (saguaro), which became an essential staple of their diet (Phillips 2009: 692). However, it should be noted that statistical analysis of cacti density patterns has implied that systemic foraging of C. gigantea seeds would hardly meet the needs of a pre-Columbian village community (Kwiatkowski 2003: 52-54). Whatever the case may be, arguably the Hohokam maintained a somewhat ‘semi-hunter-gatherer’ lifestyle (cf Bayman 2001: 273-274).

Fascinatingly, excavations of food processing sites at Nogales revealed the usage of plant based foods and herbs as medicine (Eppinga 2002: 10-11). It therefore follows that the Classic Hohokam possessed at least a rudimentary understanding of nutritional values. From this premise, one may argue that simple nutritional requirements may have been a factor in Classic Period horticulture. For example, archaeozoological analyses of animal bones excavated from sites in the Phoenix and Tucson areas have suggested that the dramatic escalation in the number of settlements during the Classic Period caused a precipitous decrease in the local wildlife (Sheridan 2012).

Logically, any decline in wild game would have resulted in a corresponding reduction in dietary sources of ‘complete proteins’ (See Gropper and Smith 2005: 239). Consequently, cultigens that contain the essential amino acid lysine — such as amaranth — would have become highly valuable to a predominately agrarian culture (Huckell and Toll 2004: 90-91; See also Browman et al. 2009: 321; cf Sheridan 2012). What may be inferred is that the Hohokam, potentially, became victims of their own success in irrigation and agriculture. Regardless, it is increasingly clear from the archaeological evidence that similar to their engineering feats, the Hohokam had designed a complex agricultural system.

Part II: Irrigation and Settlement Structure

The Sacredness of Water

Prehistoric canal research of the ‘occupation zones’ has greatly changed our understanding of Hohokam irrigation by revealing its role in sociopolitical structure (Howard 2012, pers. comm.). A role that evolved in no small way from the Hohokam’s concept that water was sacred — a celestial gift from God (Medchill 2008, pers. comm.; See also Lockard 2008: 245). Thus, water was intimately linked to inter and intra social structures. A unique example of this association may be found in the area known as Canal System Two, or CS-2, where three identified sites may have been part of a intercommunal nexus bound by irrigation needs (Abbott 2000: 67; cf ‘irrigation communities’ in Bayman 2001: 273, 287).

Casa Buena & the Grand Canal Ruins

Northwest of the Salt River, excavations carried out at the site of Casa Buena revealed an expansive Classic Period village settlement which, interestingly, possessed a large platform-based mound (Abbott 2000: 67-68). This is not uncommon. Hohokam mounds have been found elsewhere (Fig. 2) in the Salt River area and it has been suggested that they served a ritualistic function (Howard 2012, pers. comm.). However, northeast of Casa Buena another mound was found at the Grand Canal Ruins leading archaeologists to speculate that there was a link between the two settlements (Abbott 2000: 68, cf 147). To be sure, excavated pottery sherds from Casa Buena and the Grand Canal Ruins revealed a high degree of exchange in locally produced ‘plainware’ between the two communities, suggesting a ‘social relationship’ of some sort (See Abbott 2000: 145-148). This may be supported from similar burial practices vis-à-vis the inhumation/cremation ratio, and the analogous types of grave goods (Mitchell and Brunson-Hadley 2001: 58).

Pueblo Grande

Figure 3: An assemblage of artifacts, specifically red-on-buff pottery sherds and lithics from Canal One (Riverview). Photo courtesy of Heidi Emma (2012)

Southeast of these sites is Pueblo Grande, a village which possessed a local pottery industry as well (Abbott 2000: 18). However, here ceramic production was on a much more prodigious scale. For example, chemical analysis has revealed that a wide spectrum of Salt River sand types and outcrops were employed for locally produced pottery fabrics such as plainware (Mitchell and Brunson-Hadley 2001: 46; Abbott 2000: 79-83). Such data underscores the scope of their ceramic industry in comparison to their contemporaries (cf Abbott 2000: 147-151). Yet, excavations also revealed an unusually high quantity of the socially coveted redware (cf Fig. 3), a non-local ceramic unobserved in contexts at Casa Buena and the Grand Canal Ruins (Abbott and Walsh-Anduze 1995: 93-94; Abbott and Schaller 1994: 100). Thus, it may be plausible to deduce that Pueblo Grande was a ‘regional’ socioeconomic center — but to what end?

Irrigation Alliance

Uniquely, all three of these sites shared two CS-2 canals in what is labeled the ‘North Occupation Zone’ (See Abbott 2000: 87). However, what is captivating is the fact that Pueblo Grande is strategically situated at the head gates of both canals — tactically in a position to exhibit influence over the other two sites if desired (Earle and Doyel 2008: 34; cf Yoffee 2004: 11-12). What can be said then? Perhaps the ruins of the Grand Canal are in actuality a colony of Casa Buena ‘pioneers’, both of which formed an axis with Pueblo Grande — itself responsible for the water management and irrigation development of the area (cf Abbott 2000: 147; Fish et al. 1992a: 15; Morgan 1994: 108; Abbott et al. 2003: 15). Under such circumstances, Casa Buena and the Grand Canal Ruins could be viewed as theperipheral’ to a Pueblo Grande ‘center’ (See ‘site hierarchy’ in Renfrew and Bahn 2008: 184).

Equally, Pueblo Grande may have used their ‘water rights’ as leverage on neighboring polities to compel ‘membership’ in a canal system they monopolized (See Abbott and Schaller 1994: 101). To be sure, it has been suggested that disputes over ‘canal integration’ formed the foundation of intersocial organization for the early Classic Period (Abbott et al. 2003: 15). Moreover, such ‘interpolity transactions’ may explain the disparities between Pueblo Grande and Casa Buena/Grand Canal Ruins pottery types (cf Maya ‘interpolity competition’ in Rice 2009: 123). For example, it has been suggested that redware exchange was used in a ‘reciprocal’ manner between village families (Abbott 2000: 139-140; cf Renfrew and Bahn 2008: 360-361).

Considering its value, however, it is equally plausible that redware was a form of payment for services rendered from one village to another or a symbol of respect to the social hierarchy of a community (cf ‘Hohokam chiefdom’ in Earle and Doyel 2008: 33). Thus, it may be posited that the Pueblo Grande-Casa Buena-Grand Canal Ruins’ sector constituted an agricultural league, consisting of semiautonomous villages bound by a common need for water (cf Yoffee 2004: 11-12).

Early Irrigation and the complexities of a Civilization

In the past, archaeologists interpreted the Hohokam ‘canal social system’ (see above) as a product of diffusion from pre-Columbian Mexican cultures (Foster 2012: 39). However, this has been disputed as radiometric dating indicates that the earliest Hohokam canal — a ‘small ditch’ in the vicinity of Riverview — was constructed during the 1st century AD (Earle and Doyel 2008: 31; contra Fig. 4). In addition, researchers have concluded that the Hohokam of the Formative Period (c. AD 1-750) were ‘dependent on irrigation’ as early as the middle of the first millennium AD (Phillips 2009: 692). This is in no doubt a result of Preclassic subsistence requirements brought on by the gradual sedentism of the Sacaton Phase (c. AD 750-1050) (See Phillips 2009: 698). It is therefore logical to assume that the demands placed on older, less sophisticated canals would be too great. Consequently, a ‘Preclassic’ construction boom in ‘single ditch’ canals took place, thus setting the stage for the Classic Period integration (Earle and Doyel 2008: 31-32).

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Figure 4: Riverview’s Canal One excavation (in progress) as it appeared on April 16, 2012. At this point during the excavation it was assumed that there were actually two canals running parallel to each other, hence the great length of the trench. Regardless, after weeks of digging — old school archaeological style — our sixteenth trench intercepted the first Prehistoric waterway at the site. Of course, the full scope of the discovery was not fully realized for several weeks. Photo by Paul J. De Mola (2012)

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Interestingly, it appears that the causes behind Preclassic irrigation development parallel the socioeconomic factors which drove the hydraulic engineering of the Classic Period. Moreover, while archaeology has definitely increased our understanding of Hohokam irrigation and agriculture, the various evidences presented here seem to suggest that one cause was the catalyst for all changes: sedentism. However, we should not assume that the Hohokam were an entirely sedentary culture at any stage of their evolution. For example, surveys of the Tucson landscape have indicated that the mountainous topography was unsuitable for the type of large scale irrigation seen in the north occupation zone. This may be supported by the late arrival of irrigation in this area (Earle and Doyel 2008: 31).

In addition, ethnographic studies have inferred that the Tucson Hohokam made use of both anthropogenic and natural reservoirs to store water for agricultural purposes (Bayman 2001: 273-273; Fish et al. 1992b: 43). However, could not a mobile community utilize ‘large water holes’ while foraging too? Perhaps certain Hohokam ‘sects’ were only semi-sedentary and had a lifestyle that reflected their Paleoindian forbearers (See Browman et al. 2009: 313-321). This might better explain the motivation behind their seasonal camps (see above). In comparison, neighboring cultures such as the Mogollon coped with hilly landscapes through an institutionalized synthesis of agricultural and hunter-gatherer economies (Shaw and Jameson 1999: 45; Darvill 2008: 286). Consequently, it may be postulated that the Tucson area Hohokam were not nearly as sedentary as their Phoenix counterparts and were, in point of fact, quite mobile.

Endings

Figure 5: Here, Paul Joseph De Mola is measuring strata column elevation for trench nine using an automatic level (Riverview). Photo courtesy of Dutch Duering (2012b)

Throughout this essay, I have discussed how archaeological survey and excavation (Fig. 5) has been used to change our understandings of agricultural patterns by highlighting some of the changes that the Hohokam brought to their own diets. Moreover, I have examined various excavated sites to display how Hohokam irrigation was critical to Preclassic and Classic societies. These two aspects of Hohokam culture while distinguishable are, of course, inseparable. In fact, it may be said that canals formed the thread that interweaved Hohokam agricultural and irrigation strategy. That is to say, agriculture was as intertwined with irrigation as day is to night. To this end archaeological research has been indispensable in our knowledge of the Hohokam as a ‘people’.

Dr. Jerry Howard (2012, pers. comm.) has stated that the expansion of settlements during the latter Classic Period caused a subsequent overexploitation of resources during the Polvoron Phase (c. AD 1375-1450) setting the stage for an ecological crisis. Tragically, with numerous droughts came a decline in irrigation, which in turn caused a collapse of the already strained agricultural system. Subsequently, villages were abandoned thereby reducing human power to maintain operating canals which only further depleted food sources. As a result, the entire Hohokam economic structure descended into social chaos. Ergo, it may be argued that at the height of their civilization — during the great days of the early Classic Period — the Hohokam were inadvertently sowing the seeds of their own demise.

Notes

  1. The recent decision of the city of Mesa to redevelop the Riverview Golf Club and Park resulted in the State’s first serious archaeological fieldwork in nearly four years. Consequently, a grant to conduct cultural research management was extended to Dr. Jerry Howard (ASU) for a short three week season in April 2012. Additional funding for what became known as the Riverview Archaeological Project was commensurate to any ‘significant discovery’ of prehistoric value, such as Hohokam features (Howard 2102, pers. comm.; See Nelson 2012; cf Renfrew and Bahn 2008: 584). 
  2. At the heart of Hohokam life was the dependence their social communities placed upon desert farming in which canal systems played an essential role. A chief objective of the Riverview Archaeological Project was the methodical recording of any Hohokam canals—including their location, number, age, and configuration—with the intention of enabling the researchers to better ‘reconstruct the evolution’ of Canal System One (CS-1) (Howard 2012. pers. comm.). Because of its location south of the Salt River, Riverview was suspected of Hohokam agency. This theory was postulated by Dr. Jerry Howard, a leading authority of Hohokam culture and expert on Classic Phase irrigation.  
  3. Much of the excavation at Riverview was in the form of ‘intercept trenches’. Ingeniously utilized by Dr. Howard and his CRM team, the raison d’être of intercept trenches is rather straightforward: intercept archaeological features at a perpendicular angle. In the case of Riverview, east-west ditches were cut in the hope of intersecting prehistoric canals flowing south from the Salt River — a method that bore much fruit for the team from ASU. 
  4. Since the Hohokam disposed of their rubbish in waterways, the most indicative evidence for a canal is artifacts of which pottery is the most common (Medchill, 2012, pers. comm.). However, it must be noted that excavation is not an exact method of science. For example, after the first two weeks of digging at Riverview, only two shards were found in the first ten intercept trenches. These specimens were identified as Classic Hohokam red-on-buff ware (Howard 2012, pers. comm.). Unfortunately, because of the dearth of material culture from these trenches, it was concluded that none of them intersected a canal.

  5. Simple in situ observation of stratigraphy during excavation is an essential component of Hohokam fieldwork (Greene 2002: 88 – 90). During data recovery, any indications of leaching (i.e. caliche), rust and charcoal may aid in the detection of hidden contexts. For example, charcoal—essentially a pyrolitic organic residue—may imply the presence of a kiln or even a crematory, as was briefly believed to be the case within Riverview’s Canal One (Hurcombe 2007: 140; contra Duering 2012a, pers. comm.).
  6.  Petrographic and chemical analyses of soil composition (e.g., sandy silt with high levels of silica, clay with bioturbation), equips Hohokam ceramicists with a cross-referencing tool to help determine the provenience of fabrics used in ceramic typologies (Phillips 2012, pers. comm.; Booker 2102, pers. comm.). For example, are the vegetal inclusions found within a piece of Redware consistent with botanical conditions from this or another site? What is the precise mineral source of the clay that a Hohokam potter used in a red-on-buff bowl (See Banning 2000: 175)? Ultimately, answers to these questions may aid in identifying socioeconomic trade patterns and anomalies.
  7. In theory, canals are known for the exquisite ‘mottled strata’ they leave in soil deposits. That is to say, heterogeneous sediments possessing low levels of sand that are deposited through channeled river and appear as ‘churned’ color patterns on trench walls (Phillips 2012, pers. comm.; See also Huckleberry 2006: 349). This was most vividly illustrated recently at Riverview’s trench sixteen (Fig. 4) which was also accompanied by a wide prehistoric artifact distribution, lending support to the opinion that this was indeed a canal of Hohokam origin. 
  8. It should be noted, however, that Hohokam canals were so well designed that they were frequently reused by historical (later) engineers. At Riverview, their post-colonial reuse is evidenced by the presence of bioturbation by freshwater anthropods. For example, a cavity located immediately below the topsoil in trench thirteen’s stratigraphy implied the presence of crayfish—a nonnative crustacean which entered Salt River reservoirs in historical times (Duering 2012a, pers. comm.; See AGFD 2012).

 

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Acknowledgements

The esteemed cultural resource management team from Arizona State University: archaeologist(s) Carla Booker, Brian Medchill and Bert Strobl who were gracious enough to take the time in giving me a ‘trench course’ in stratigraphy, sedimentology and the logistics involved in ‘canal hunting’.

An expression of gratitude must be paid to my Aunt Faith who furnished me with the camera for my ventures, and my first cousin Heidi who graciously assisted me with photography.

Special mention needs to be made to archaeologist Walter ‘Dutch’ Duering and archaeobotanist Bruce Phillips, for providing me with an intense training experience in modern cartography and geoarchaeology, respectively.

A very special thank you must be expressed to Dr. Jerry B. Howard (ASU) who managed to imbue this young man with a deep appreciation for the pre-Columbian southwest.

For additional information on the Riverview Archaeological Project, Mesa Grande or the Hohokam contact:

Dr. Jerry B. Howard, Curator of Anthropology

Arizona Museum of Natural History

480-644-2230

http://azmnh.org/

Cover Photo, Top Left: Detail of the Casa Grande Great House remains. Greg Hume, Wikimedia Commons

The Hensbacka culture group and regional migrations 12,000 years ago

Abstract: Although the Hensbacka, as a group of hunter-gathers, has been known along the coast of western Sweden since the early 1920’s, it is only within the last decade that the group has been considered from an anthropological, and therefore economic, point of view. 

This is a short paper about a long process: cultural change in time and space induced by environmental parameters within a socio-economic framework. It is a regional model of what could have happened – and most likely did.

Introduction

It has been put forth in a previous publication that there can be as many as 10,000 early Mesolithic sites in the county of Bohuslän (fig.1) to the north of Gothenburg. (Schmitt et al. 2006). These sites can be dated to between ca.12,000 – 10,500 cal.BP  (Schmitt & Svedhage 2015c) and are referred to as the Hensbacka culture group, an early phase of the Hensbacka/Fosna tradition. Since the latter contains artifacts that are inherent to the Ahrensburgian technocomplex on the North European Plain, such as unifacial opposed platform cores and tanged points (fig. 2b) it has been generally accepted that the Ahrensburgian, Hensbacka and Fosna culture groups are interrelated (Schmitt 1999, 2006; Fuglestvedt 2007). Our use of the term ‘site’ should be taken to mean activity area defined by a limited deposition of chipped flint that displays diagnostically relevant attributes.

The purpose of this short article is to explicate one of the reasons why this interrelationship existed.

Even more sites than originally estimated?

Recent field investigations in central Bohuslän (fig. 2a) have resulted in both additional Hensbacka sites and typical artifacts in the form of tanged points and classical opposed platform cores (fig. 2b). As a generalization, it is reasonable to state that after severe storms in Bohuslän, that fall many trees, it is obvious that there seems to be a Hensbacka site under almost every pine tree. Consequently, the more storms we have – the more early Mesolithic sites we find. Curiously, this agrees well with our estimated vast number of sites mentioned earlier.

Environmental circumstances that made a difference.

During the close of the Late Glacial and the beginning of the Post Glacial, the topographic, oceanographic, and hydrological conditions in the North Sea Basin and along the coast of western Sweden were very different. The combined effect of these environmental circumstances was unique in Northern Europe. In conjunction with easterly moving currents, nutrient salts removed from land being inundated in the North Sea Basin were transported to the coast of western Sweden (Schmitt 1994, p.253-254). In addition to this feature, isostatic rebound in the Vänern Basin constricted out flowing melt water (see Schmitt et al. 2006, p.7, fig. 6) whereby flow rates within the reaction current increased. Indeed, the velocity of tidal currents in the archipelago must have been significant in that numeric tidal models indicate a tidal amplitude, or M2  of about 60 cm along the coast of Bohuslän; this means that the difference between high and low tide was about 1.20 meters (ibid. p.15, fig.12a).  In consequence, mixing due to turbulence within the water column caused by islands in the archipelago was enhanced. Turbulence on the lee side (in relation to a current) of islands served as a nutrient injection in the outer archipelago and is referred to as “island wakes” — a primary cause of increased phytoplankton production in that particular area (Hasegawa 2009, p.1-4; Schmitt 2015b, p.110). Consequently the biomass and therefore the carrying capacity of the sea along the coast of Bohuslän, was significantly enhanced by nutrient rich currents from the west and phytoplankton production through upwelling induced by island wakes on the leeward side of islands in the outer archipelago. In short, increased isostatic rebound in the Vänern Basin – in conjunction with increasing rates of inundation in the North Sea Basin, provided unparalleled circumstances for seasonal resource exploitation by visiting groups of hunter-gatherers from the Continent. This environmental/ecological situation continued until about 10500 cal BP, at which time the Otteid and Uddevalla straits dried up (Fredén 1988, p.70) (fig. 3b).

In conjunction with these “island wakes” and the upwelling in the outer archipelago, it has recently been pointed out that iron enriched glacial melt water has a positive effect on the growth rate and blooming of phytoplankton (Gerringa et al. 2012, p. 25). It is noteworthy that fluxes of iron, derived from biogeochemical weathering processes, have also been documented in glacial melt water along the coast of eastern Greenland, where it promotes phytoplankton growth and blooming in the sea (Statham et al. 2008, pp. 1-11). Indeed, the bioavailability of iron in glacial melt water and eventual input of this iron into the sea, is a current research area that is receiving considerable attention (see Raiswell 2011, pp.1 & 105; Wadham 2010, p.7). Accordingly, if we had the same biogeochemical weathering processes at work in the Vänern basin during deglaciation – the iron enriched melt water flowing into the archipelago of Bohuslän would have been an excellent complement to upwelling nutrients and phytoplankton growth in island wakes. The relatively high latitude of Bohuslän (58” 20´ N  for the town of Uddevalla) should also be taken into account in that both favorable light conditions and sufficient iron concentrations are required for optimum phytoplankton growth rates (Blain et al. 2001, p.182). Clearly, we need not question light conditions along the Swedish west coast during the summer. Furthermore, sedimentological studies concerning the glaciomarine deposition of clay in the vicinity of Gothenburg indicate that glacial melt water, flowing into the archipelago, had significant iron content (Stevens et al. 1987, p.245 & 250). Accordingly, we had both favorable light conditions and elevated iron concentrations that would have enhanced already high growth rates of phytoplankton in the outer archipelago due to island mass effect.

The distinct increase in the benthic foraminifera population in the archipelago of Gothenburg at about 11700 cal BP (Bergsten 1989, plate 2) (see also Björck 1995, p.31) strongly suggests a significant iron input from outflowing fresh water during the Baltic Ice Lake drainage in the late Younger Dryas. In brief, benthic foraminifera feed on phytoplankton when they sink to the bottom (De Nooijer et al.2008, p.719 – 721; Schönfeld et al. 2007, p.89; Diz et al.  2006, p.11); consequently, a large benthic foraminifera population is supported by a large, and expanding, surface phytoplankton population (Gustafsson et al.  1999, p. 176-177). As can be seen in the data provided by Bergsten (1989) in plate 2, this is a situation that existed between ca. 11700 – 11500 cal BP and can be correlated, in archaeological terms, to the Hensbacka culture group.    

It should also be mentioned that new data concerning the Kattegatt and archipelago of Bohuslän during the close of the Late Glacial has recently been extrapolated from an international tidal modeling program (Uehara et al. 2006). These new data indicate that a tidal mixing front existed at the northern end of the Kattegatt between the coast of eastern Denmark and the coast of western Sweden (Schmitt 2015:b, fig.4a) and that the M2 (tidal amplitude) in the southern end of the Kattegatt was about 1.4 meter (Uehara, pers.comm. Nov. 2011). Tidal mixing fronts, like the island wakes already mentioned, are areas of high biological production – primarily in the form of extensive phytoplankton populations.  It can therefore be inferred that a significant amount of this population was transported to the archipelago of Bohuslän by northward moving currents (see Schmitt et al. 2006, fig. 4, p.5).

If we take into account the above mentioned environmental/ecological conditions, the archipelago in Bohuslän was something of a veritable paradise for hunter-gatherers on a seasonal round.  The exceptionally productive marine food web seems to have sustained a high level of human use as witnessed by the numerous Hensbacka sites (Schmitt et al. 2006, p. 20). Capelin (Mallotus villosus) are known to spawn on gravely beaches where they can be collected by hand and are often followed to the shore by Atlantic cod (Gadus morhua) from deeper water. Herring (Clupea harengus), in this regard, are also of interest in that both capelin and herring are exploited as a major food source by harp seals (Pagophilia groenlandicus), ringed seals (Pusa hispida) and bearded seals (Erignathus barbatus). All of these species are known to have been present along the coast of Bohuslän during the Late Paleolithic /early Mesolithic transition (Schmitt et al. 2009, p.12) as well as Haddock (Melanogrammus aeglefinus), Whiting (Merlangius merlangus) and Ling (Molva molva) (Jonsson 1995, p. 159). Consequently, it is not surprising that we have up to 10,000 early Mesolithic sites in the county of Bohuslän on the Swedish west coast (Schmitt et al. 2006, p.20). The term ‘site’ should be taken to mean activity area.

In a more low-key perspective, it should be taken into account that the transition between Late Glacial and early Post Glacial conditions took place within about two generations (Björck et al. 1996, p.1166; Lowe et al. 2008, p.9, fig 1). This suggests two possibilities.. Firstly, reindeer might have altered their seasonal migration routes – or perhaps departed from the North Central European Plain completely. And secondly, early visitors to Bohuslän soon discovered that they could not be in two places at the same time. That is to say, when in Bohuslän, it was impossible to know when seasonally migrating reindeer will arrive in the Hamburg area in general. Indeed, sharing in the rewards most certainly required participation in the hunt.

Without a doubt this could have developed into a situation where decisions were needed regarding a changing lifestyle.

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Fig.1 – Map showing geographical areas and archaeological sites mentioned in the text.

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Fig. 2 – Map (a) showing the present and past shore line, at ca. 10500 cal BP, of central Bohuslän. The archaeological site referred to as Djupedal (T-325) represents a site from the late Hensbacka group, while the Sandbacken (Ua-157) site relates to the earliest phase of the Hensbacka (see Schmitt & Svedhage 2015). The tanged point and opposed platform core seen in (b) are not uncommon finds from higher levels in terrain of central Bohuslän and indicate technological and morphological similarities with the Continental Ahrensburgian on the North Central European Plain (Fig. 1).

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Fig. 3 – Isostatic rebound in the archipelago of central Bohuslän not only provided for increased land area in the form of additional islands, it also closed the straits connecting Vänern Basin with the sea at ca. 10,500 cal. BP. Compare maps (a) and (b). Arrows in the straits indicate the direction of flow for glacial melt water on the surface while a bottom current of heavier seawater, moved in the opposite direction – in the same strait. The mixing of these two currents took place around islands in the archipelago i.e. “islands wakes”.

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Marine resources in a social perspective

Clearly, we cannot know what “they”, thousands of years ago, actually thought about social space requirements within a productive catchment area. However, and in general, it is thought that individuals or groups of individuals evaluated their own socio-economic advantage when a move between camps was made (Riches 1982, p. 19). In brief, work input in relation to time spent (cost) during the actual hunt is taken into account. Accordingly, time (cost) will increase in proportion to the number of people hunting the same species of prey in the same general area. When time expenditures exceed a certain limit, due to prey depletion, hunters will move to a new catchment area (Winterhalder et al. 2010, p. 469). Hence, in a pioneer colonization situation, these eventual moves between regional, or inter-regional, catchment areas can be interpreted as a cost-effective process. In short, when cost exceeds expected returns, a move is made.

This suggests that as the numbers of fishermen and hunters increased in Bohuslän, it required more and more time to obtain the same return as had been realized the year before. The only remedy would have been to move to another location within the same catchment area. From our point of view this would have been a compounded problem in time until a northern limit had been reached. That is to say, an area to the north far removed from the out-flowing melt water from the Vänern Basin and eventual mixing in the outer archipelago (“island wakes”)(see Schmitt 2015b, p.110). At present, it can be suggested that this “point to the north” was reached at about 11200 cal BP and is represented by the Pauler 1 site (fig.1) just to the NW of Larvik (Schaller Åhrberg 2012, p.118; pers.comm. Glørstad, Feb. 2017) on the west side of the Oslo Fjord. In short, crossing over the fjord became possible after the receding ice front had moved further towards the North (Glørstad 2014) at this time. Additional support for this model is forthcoming if we take into account the recent excavation at Elgsrud (Eymundsson and Mjærum 2015) a former island in the Oslo fjord during deglaciation that is now situated on the east side of the same fjord due to isostatic rebound (fig.1). Without a doubt the lithic material from both sites – Pauler 1 and Elgsrud – are very similar to the classic Hensbacka material from Bohuslän.

However, it is safe to assume the same problem that had presented itself in “good catchment areas” in Bohuslän – soon prevailed in coastal Norway as well. That is to say, population pressure increased the “cost” of maintaining a given subsistence platform. In consequence, supplementary sources, in the form of reindeer hunting and other inland animals, were sought in the mountains (Breivik & Callanan 2016).

The reason for this mixed economy in western Norway was two-fold. In brief, it is most probable that the biological productivity in the sea along the relatively short coast of western Sweden to the north of Gothenburg, i.e. Bohuslän, (fig.1) was greater than the productivity along the extensive coast of western Norway during the close of the Late Glacial and the beginning of the early Post Glacial. This discrepancy provided for a differentiated carrying capacity in these two areas which in turn led to different solutions in subsistence management. Naturally one can always refer to many “think if” or “what about” scenarioios – but we can never find a second “isostatic rebounding Vänern Basin” during the close of the Late Glacial / early Post Glacial. This enormous glacial melt water basin in western Sweden was a unique geographic feature that is difficult, if not impossible, to find elsewhere in northern Europe during this period of time.

The evidence; not only archaeological sites

In addition to the thousands of actual Hensbacka sites in Bohuslän, it is very interesting to note that the estimated volume of the well known shell-banks to the east of Uddevalla is slight more than one million cubic meters (Fredén 1988, p. 21). This enormous accumulation of sea shells, perhaps largest in the world, is C-14 dated to between 13000 uncal. BP and 9700 uncal. BP (ibid. pp. 76 & 80). Chlamys islandica have been used for dating in both cases.

The interesting point here is that these shell-banks are located in the old drainage basin/valley of the Uddevalla strait and clearly verify that the marine ecology within this area i.e. the archipelago of Bohuslän has been remarkable for at least 3000 years. Today this same valley is occupied by a small stream, flowing through the city of Uddevalla, which still empties into the sea; but the past dynamics within the local ecology only survive in the huge shell-banks that might well be, in terms of size, second to none in a global perspective. The existence of these shell-banks provides additional support for much of what has been put forth in this paper concerning the coastal carrying capacity of Bohuslän 12000 years ago.

A geographical change that promoted migration and regional cultural change?

In closing this short article, it seems appropriate to reflect on the demise of the Hensbacka culture group as we think we know it today. Once the Otteid and Uddevalla straits closed at ca. 10500 cal.BP (Fredén 1988, p.70) (fig. 3b) due to isostatic rebound, melt water from the Vänern Basin no longer reached the archipelago and the open sea (see Schmitt et al. 2006, fig. 6 p.7 & fig. 16 p. 21). As we already hinted earlier, this would have been catastrophic for groups of maritime foragers. The time required – if possible at all with an extended population in a regional catchment area, to maintain the daily subsistence base would have increased to unrealistic proportions. The social effect was given; a slow decline in population growth and increased migrations. Indeed, this would have opened the door for new cultural impulses – such as the Sandarna with their microblade technology.

In retrospect, it is not an exaggeration when we suggest that the Hensbacka group represents a classic example of environmental adaptation at the close of the Late Paleolithic and the beginning of the early Mesolithic, that is to say between ca. 12000 – 10500 cal. BP. In a more holistic perspective, the Hensbacka and Fosna culture groups are one and the same and represent a transitional phase within the Ahrensburgian technocomplex during and after the close of the Younger Dryas climate event.

Conclusions

Our conclusions regarding the Hensbacka group in Bohuslän are straightforward and few in number. Firstly, continued field work, especially at higher levels in the terrain, reveal additional sites that have previously been unknown. Secondly, these continued investigations show no reason to doubt the earlier observations that a relationship does exist between the Hensbacka and Ahrensburgian technocomplex –as well as the Fosna in Norway. Last, but by all means not least; this interrelationship and/or transitional phase, was due to the enhanced carrying capacity in the sea along the coast of Bohuslän; the “prime mover” in this case was the Vänern Basin and straits leading west into the archipelago (fig. 3a).

References

Bergsten, H. 1989: Stratigraphy of a Late Weichselian-Holocene clay sequence at Göteborg, south-western Sweden. Thesis A 68, Chalmers Tekniska Högskola och Göteborgs Universitet, Geologiska Institutionen. Göteborg. 1-115.

Björck, S. 1995: A review of the history of the Baltic Sea, 13.0-8.0 ka BP. Quaternary International, Vol.27, 19-40.

Björck, S., Kromer, B., Johnsen, S., Bennike, O., Hammerlund, D., Lemdahl, G., Possnert, G., Rasmussen, T.L., Wohlfarth, B., Hammer, C.U., Spurk, M., 1996: Synchronized Terrestrial-Atmospheric Deglacial Records Around the North Atlantic. Science, Vol. 274, 1155 – 1160.

Blain, S., Tréguer, P., Belviso, S., Bucciarelli. E., Denis, M., Desabre, S., Fiala, M., Jézéquel, V.M., Le Fèvre, J., Mayzaud, P., Marty, J-C. and Razouls, S. 2001: A biogeochemical study of the island mass effect in the context of the iron hypothesis: Kerguelen Islands, Southern Ocean. Deep-Sea Research I 48, 163-87.

Breivik, H.M., Callanan, M., 2016. Hunting High and Low: Postglacial Colonization Strategies in Central Norway between 9500 and 8000 cal bc. European Journal of Archaeology 19, 571-595.

De Nooijer, L.J., Duijnstee, I.A.P., Bergman, M.J.N., Van der Zwaan, G.J. 2008: The ecology of benthic foraminifera across the Frisian Front, southern North Sea. Estuarine, Coastal and Shelf Science 78, 715-726.

Diz, P., Francés, G. and Rosón, G. 2006: Effects of contrasting upwelling – downwelling on benthic foraminiferal distribution in the Ria de Vigo (NW Spain). Journal of Marine Systems 60, 1-18.

Eymundsson, C.G. and Mjærum, A. 2015: I fotsporene til steinalderpionerene – En utgravning av pionerboplassene på Elgsrud I Sørmarka. Follominne 53, 15-30.

Fredén, C. 1988: Marine life and deglaciation chronology of the Vänern basin southwestern Sweden. Sveriges Geologiska Undersökning, Ca 71, Uppsala. 1-80.

Fuglestvedt, I., 2007. The Ahrensburgian Galta 3 site in SW Norway; dating technology and cultural affinity. Acta Archaeologica, 78 (2), 87-110.

Gerringa, L.J.A., Alderkamp, A-C., Laan, P., Thuróczy, C-E., De Baar, H.J.W., Mills, M., van Dijken, G.L., van Haren, H. and Arrigo, K. 2012: Iron from melting glaciers fuels the phytoplankton bloom in Amundsen Sea (Southern Ocean): Iron biogeochemistry. Deep-Sea Research II 71-76, 16-31.

Glørstad, H. 2014: Deglaciation, sea level changes and the Holocene colonisation of Norway. In Harff, J., Bailey, G. and Lüth, F. (eds.), Geology and Archaeology; Submerged Landscapes of the Continental Shelf. Special Publication of the Geological Society of London. 9-26.

Gustafsson, M. and Nordberg, K. 1999: Benthic Foraminifera and their response to hydrography, periodic hypoxic conditions and primary production in the Koljö fjord on the Swedish west coast. Journal of Sea Research 41, 163-178.

Hasegawa, D., Lewis, M.R. and Gangopadhyay, A. 2009: How islands cause phytoplankton to bloom in their wakes. Geophysical Research Letters, Vol. 36, L20605, doi:10.1029/2009GL039743, 2009. 1-4.

Jonsson, L. 1995: Vertebrate fauna during the Mesolithic on the Swedish west coast. In: A. Fischer (ed.): Man and sea in the Mesolithic: coastal settlement above and below present sea level. Proceedings of the international symposium held in Kalundborg, Denmark 1993. Oxbow, Oxford. .147-160.

Lowe, J.J., Rasmussen, S.O., Björck, S., Hoek, W.Z., Steffensen, J.P., Walker, M.J.C., Yu, Z.C., 2008: Synchronisation of palaeoenvironmental events in the North Atlantic region during the Last Termination: a revised protocol recommended by the INTIMATE group. Quaternary Science Reviews 27,. 6-17.

Raiswell, R. 2011: Iron Transport from the Continents to the Open Ocean: The Aging-Rejuvenation Cycle. Elements, Vol.7, 101-106.

Riches, D., 1982. Northern Nomadic Hunter-Gatherers: A Humanistic Approach. London, Academic Press. 1-242.

Schaller Åhrberg, E. 2012: Pauler 1 – En tidigmesolitisk boplats. In: L. Jaksland (ed.): E18 Brunlanesprosjektet, Bind II, Undersøkte Lokaliteter fra Tidligmesolitikum. Kulturhistorisk Museum, Fornminneseksjonen. Oslo. 3-125.

Schmitt, L. 1994: The Hensbacka: a subsistence strategy of Continental hunter-gatherers, or an adaptation at the Pleistocene-Holocene boundary? Oxford Journal of Archaeology 13(3), 245-263.

Schmitt, L. 1999: Comparative points and relative thoughts: the relationship between the Ahrensburgian and Hensbacka assemblages. Oxford Journal of Archaeology 18(4), 327-337.

Schmitt, L., Larsson, S., Schrum, C., Alekseeva, I., Tomczak, M. and Svedhage, K. 2006: ”Why they came”; the colonization of the coast of western Sweden and its environmental context at the end of the last glaciation. Oxford Journal of Archaeology 25(1), 1-28.

Schmitt, L., Larsson, S., Burdukiewicz, J., Ziker, J., Svedhage, K., Zamon, J. and Steffen, H. 2009: Chronological insights, cultural change, and resource exploitation on the west coast of Sweden during the Late Paleolithic / early Mesolithic transition. Oxford Journal of Archaeology 28(1),.1-27.

Schmitt, L., 2015b:. Early colonization, glacial melt water, and island mass effect in the archipelago of western Sweden: a case history. Oxford Journal of Archaeology 34(2), 109-117.

Schmitt, L. and Svedhage K., 2015c: Chronological aspects of the Hensbacka – a group of hunter-gatherers/fishers on the west coast of Sweden during the Pleistocene/Holocene transition: an example of early coastal colonization. Danish Journal of Archaeology, 4(1), 75-81.

Schönfeld, J. and Numberger, L. 2007: The benthic foraminiferal response to the 2004 spring bloom in the western Baltic Sea. Marine Micropaleontology 65, 78-95.

Statham, P., Skidmore, M. and Tranter, M. 2008: Inputs of glacially derived dissolved and colloidal iron to the coastal ocean and implications for primary productivity. Global Biogeochemical Cycles, Vol.22, GB3013,.1-11.

Stevens, R.L., April, R.H. and Wedel, P.O. 1987: Sediment color and weathered preglacial sources of Quaternary clays in southwestern Sweden. Geologiska Föreningens I Stockholm Förhandlingar, Vol.109, Pt.3. Stockholm. 241-253

Uehara, K., Scourse, J.D., Horsburgh, K.J., Lambeck, K. and Purcell, A.P. 2006: Tidal evolution of the northwest European shelf seas from the Last Glacial Maximum to the present. Journal of Geophysical Research – Oceans. 111, C09025, doi:10.1029/2006JC003531, 1-15.

Wadham, J.L, Tranter, M., Skidmore, M., Hodson, A.J., Priscu, J., Lyons, W.B., Sharp, M., Wynn, P., and Jackson, M. 2010: Biogeochemical weathering under ice: Size matters. Global Biogeochemical Cycles, Vol. 24, GB3025. 1-11.

Winterhalder, B., Kennett, D., Grote, M. and Bartruff, J., 2010. Ideal free settlement of California’s Northern Channel Islands. Journal of Anthropological Archaeology 29 (2010) 469-490.

A Decade of Discovery: The Tandy Excavations at Tel Gezer

Dr. Steven Ortiz is a biblical archaeologist with over 30 years of field experience and has traveled extensively throughout the Middle East. He is currently the co-director and principal investigator at Tel Gezer. His expertise is the use of archaeology to reconstruct the history of ancient Israel and the Second Temple Period (New Testament). His research focus is the archaeology of the southern Levant. He is active in professional academic organizations and is a prolific lecturer and author. Dr. Ortiz has contributed to several books and monographs: History of Ancient IsraelDo Historical Matters Matter to Faith?Critical Issues in Early Israelite HistoryBuried Hopes or Risen SaviorArchaeological and Historical Studies in honor of Amihai Mazar, and The Future of Biblical Archaeology. He is currently working on the publications of Tel Gezer as well as a book entitled Intersections of Archaeology and Biblical Interpretation.

Dr. Samuel Wolff earned his Ph.D. at the University of Chicago in 1986, and has been with the Israel Antiquities Authority since 1991. In addition to his current project at Tel Gezer, Dr. Wolff has also directed excavations at Tel Megadim, En Haggit and Tel Hamid. He is the author of numerous scientific articles and reports related to the archaeology of Israel.

 

A preliminary summary report of the excavations of a city that, according to the biblical account, was fortified by King Solomon during the time of the United Monarchy of ancient Israel . . .

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Using LiDAR at El Pilar

Sensationalized for seeing through the forest canopy, touted for its remarkable imagery that maps the forest floor, LiDAR*  the remarkable new laser technology that helps us “see” the unseen has captured the attention of the public even as the Maya forest still keeps many of its secrets. The recent news of the extensive LiDAR coverage of  the Reserva de la Biosfera Maya in Guatemala represents an important step in uncovering the nature of the ancient Maya landscape — revealing the topographic reality of the forest floor.  But the Guatemala coverage is not the first LiDAR look into archaeology under the canopy. This publicized coverage was already matched in western Belize, first for the area associated with the ancient Maya city of Caracol in the south, over-flown in 2009, then the area of El Pilar, an ancient Maya city located on the border between Belize and Guatemala in 2012, followed by a major swath of 1057 km2 of the Belize Valley in 2013. All combined, now the LiDAR surveys of the central Maya lowlands makes for an amazing source for new research on the Maya environment and settlement. And as a resource, it is clear that the lab work in the context of the GIS and field work with the GPS to validate these data will take decades. Combining the Belize and Guatemala LiDAR coverages, we have a total area of some 3000 km2, embracing northern Guatemala and western Belize, the core area of Classic Maya civilization (Figure 1 ).

*Light Detection and Ranging, a remote sensing method that uses light in the form of a pulsed laser to measure ranges, or variable distances, to the Earth, often employed by aircraft

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Fig. 1: Regional view of LiDAR coverage for the Maya area. BRASS/El Pilar

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We now have the ability to identify every major Maya monument, what we call the “big stuff.” This includes a mysterious “Citadel,” the hilltop temple-plaza complex surrounded by rampart and earthworks to the east of the core of El Pilar.

The El Pilar Experience

We have been working with LiDAR coverage for four years at the El Pilar Archaeological Reserve for Maya Flora and Fauna. We find LiDAR technology to be a magnificent tool (Figure 2). The data on topography alone is astounding, and we can interpret variations in elevations to 1 m with tracking details of the ground. BUT: LiDAR is not a magic wand.  There is a vital need to use ground-truth procedures and validate interpretations from LiDAR by archaeologists in the field. 

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Fig. 2: El Pilar Archaeological Reserve LiDAR :  Bonemap visualization with “big stuff” dramatically visible. BRASS/El Pilar

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The El Pilar LiDAR coverage of a 20 km2 area straddles Belize and Guatemala (Figure 3). We initially examined the major monuments. They were startlingly clear! It is the small structures as well as related cultural features — the depressions, terraces, and quarries — that are subtle, requiring care in the relationship of the visual rendering of the LiDAR and the field mapping details. We began in the lab using the GIS and our bone-mapping visualization to identify the elements that were potentially cultural remains — we call these our “GoTo” points (Figure 4). We have field-verified our lab identifications, validating all features within a 10 km2 area. We have field-investigated the areas immediately surrounding the Late Classic core of El Pilar where we had mapped in 2000 and 2001. We have covered an area in the NE with few identified features and in the NW where there were many features. We have field-validated 1,214 points in total (Figure 5). We have found that an average of 83% of our points of interest result in cultural features on the ground, but only 611, or 50% are attributed to structures and mapped as residential units of the ancient Maya people.

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Fig. 3: Location of the El Pilar Archaeological Reserve for Maya Flora and Fauna indicated with a yellow polygon on Landsat 8 imagery. BRASS/El Pilar

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Fig. 4: El Pilar “GoTo” points for the 20 km2 survey area. BRASS/El Pilar

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Fig. 5: The visited “GoTo” points in surveyed 10 km2 area with green = accepted and black = rejected. BRASS/El Pilar

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There is considerable variability across space related to the way the ancient Maya used the landscape. Our predictive model shows that the Maya preferred well drained areas and our surveys at El Pilar support this. The NE area of the El Pilar Archaeological Reserve is a transitional wetland. There, we tabulated very few elements: less than 20/km2.  Our question was: Does this lab review in the context of the GIS square with our field investigations?  With so few targets for our “GoTo” points, we determined that this area warranted a full coverage survey to test the accuracy of the LiDAR.

In 2016, we were able to verify the truth of the LiDAR imagery in the field by validating the few cultural remains in the area. We recorded 106 features, including 80 residential units. This result gave us confidence in our expectations and in the LiDAR visualizations. The majority of the sites were located in the higher southern portion of the survey. This area rises out of the wetlands and is near Chorro, a minor center not far from El Pilar. Many of our “GoTo” points we started with in this area were rejected, attributed to the debris of nuts and dead fronds that accumulate beneath the magnificent Atelea cohune palms. We found some unusual linear features based on our field survey in the wetland zones that were not visible in LiDAR visualizations. As unusual alignments, these features along contours are perhaps related to water control. But such features, while not domestic architecture, could be something else.

In the visualization of the NW area of the reserve, we identified many large rectangular features in the LiDAR images. There were approximately 60 “GoTo” points per km2, three times the number of the NE area. Most of these points revealed major cultural features, and along the way we mapped quarries, depressions, terraces, berms, and chultunes, that are not reliably visible with the LiDAR but are important land use features. We mapped 150 residential units in the 2017 survey, nearly twice as many as the NE area. We found that few of our points were rejected as natural features compared to the NE. Most common natural features were large tree buttresses, like the amate trees.

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Fig. 6: Buttressed amate tree with Jerry Waight as scale. BRASS/El Pilar

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We expected major architectural features based on the LiDAR, and we were not disappointed. We mapped large plazas, over 100 m in length, temples higher than 11 m, even platforms over 25 m long. We noted that the major architecture followed ridges that flanked an arroyo. By the conclusion of the survey, three monumental areas were mapped among the residential units. These minor centers were located within 2 km of the El Pilar core. We named them: OxTeXik, east of the arroyo; Amatal, west of the arroyo; and Kum, to the north.

The Significance of the El Pilar Surveys

We have learned much about the relationship between the landscape and the LiDAR-based visualization over the course of our four years of field validation. It is important that we have collected data on the visualizations and the validation of cultural features. Although not all suspicious features are accepted in the field, LiDAR is a great tool for directing the “boots on the ground.”

We are now dedicated to the long process of learning how the vast potential of LiDAR can be integrated into our archaeological tool kit. Clearly an asset, LiDAR increases our capacity to understand the importance of the landscape and in interpreting settlement patterns. We now can hypothesize specifically on the nature of ancient land use. We can also appreciate the variability in the types of cultural features revealed by laser technology. This applies both to archaeology generally and the Maya, specifically.

Revealing the Geography

While we are absorbing new aspects about archaeological discovery, we are able to identify the geographic foundation of the surface of the Maya forest as well as distinctions in the forest. The LiDAR coverage allows us to recognize the geography, the ridges and lowlands, the hills and drainage, as well as the water flows. We have to bear in mind that at least 95% of the laser returns collected by the LiDAR technology is attributed to above ground biomass. These data, when used by forest ecologists and resource managers, provide direct information on the state of the forest, its varied heights and relationship to the topography. In fact, with cross sections of the LiDAR point cloud, one can identify actual trees! The forest environmental variability is the key to interpreting ancient Maya settlement, and the density of settlement is the key to understanding the extent of ancient civic centers.

The Takeaways

Comprehending the potential of LiDAR for archaeology in the tropics will be a long process.  LiDAR coverage comes with massive amounts of data (Figure7). There is an average of 25 laser returns per m2. This translates into 25,000,000 returns per 1 km2 and these digital data take up a lot of space and are hard to manipulate with the average computer.

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Fig. 7: Oblique LiDAR view of the El Pilar acropolis and ground points (dark green) and vegetation biomass (light green). BRASS/El Pilar

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When contemplating the data sets generated by the reported 1200 km2 coverage in Guatemala, the numbers are astonishing! Thinking that only 5% of the returns are the last returns and are taken to be the ground surface, those numbers come to 1,250,000 per km2!  These are the data that we must work with as our starting point.  This is before any ground validation is initiated in the field. The reported claims of 60,000 structures, around 30-50 structures/km2, are not startling based on all the traditional settlement transect surveys that reveal dense settlements where there are well drained uplands.**

Ground-truthing in the field is not simply inputing the destination points into the GPS and trekking out to them. Each GPS can record tracks as you course to the destination. In the field, archaeologists record way points with the GPS and they need to be properly identified. Managing all these facets of data collection is a job unto itself. Fundamental data collection protocols must be established. Without a defined protocol, these data quickly become unwieldy. Huge amounts of data are generated from LiDAR lab-to-field projects and care must be taken to ensure their legitimacy.

We have developed and honed our El Pilar protocol for field validating the “GoTo” points generated in the lab, where points are identified on LiDAR visualizations in the context of GIS.  Using our Bone mapping visualization strategy, we identify features on the landscape as our field mapping destinations. For the past four years, we have covered 10 km2, validating 1,214 “GoTo” points, mapping 1,335 new cultural features, verifying 611 domestic structures, and mapping 7 civic monumental locales. While visiting our “GoTo” points, we found 16%  were not cultural, but natural elements: buttresses of large trees, frond and seed debris from palms, and even “pox” we confirmed as problems inherent in the LiDAR data interpretations. We use our findings with a strict protocol of field-to-lab management. With our experience, we are now in a position to untangle the potentials and the predictions based on LiDAR.

Going Forward

Our confidence in LiDAR grows with our boots on the ground. Our experience is providing a new way of appreciating the nature of the Maya forest and the importance of understanding archaeology under the canopy.  Our new Maya Forest Atlas provides one with a unique view of scale, featuring our El Pilar LiDAR at the site scale, geographic data at the local scale of the Belize River, and regional scale views of the entire Maya forest. These data will be updated as we work to complete the validation for the remaining 10 km2 of the El Pilar Archaeological Reserve for Maya Flora and Fauna.

LiDAR is no magic wand. Yet our survey efforts are well informed and greatly advantaged by the technological contribution of LiDAR. We know there is much work to do and we can see that our work at El Pilar will be a solid basis for the hard work that Maya archaeological surveyors will be undertaking into the future.

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*Light Detection and Ranging, a remote sensing method that uses light in the form of a pulsed laser to measure ranges, or variable distances, to the Earth, often employed by aircraft

**The Maya Forest Garden: Eight Millennia of Sustainable Cultivation of the Tropical Woodlands by Anabel Ford and Ronald Nigh

Article Cover Image: Architecture revealed in the El Pilar area with the help of LiDAR. BRASS/El Pilar 

Khirbet Qeiyafa, the Biblical Tradition and King David

Yosef Garfinkel is Yigael Yadin Chair in Archaeology of Eretz Yisrael and Professor of Archaeology at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. He is the author of numerous books, articles and papers and is a holder of the Polonsky Book Prize. He is currently excavating at Tel Lachish in Israel.

Khirbet Qeiyafa, in Israel, is located on the summit of a hill that borders the Elah Valley southwest of Jerusalem. This would have been a key strategic location in the biblical Kingdom of Judah, on the main road from Philistia and the coastal plain to Jerusalem and Hebron in the hill country. Even prior to excavation, visitors to Khirbet Qeiyafa could discern a massive city wall, 2–3 m in height, encompassing the summit of the hill. This city wall demarcates an area of 2.3 hectares with a total length of ca. 700 m. Due to the local topography, only the external face of the wall is exposed, the inner part buried under archaeological remains. The base of the wall is composed of cyclopean stones, some weighing 4–5 tons, while its upper part is built with medium-sized stones. Two city gates were already located prior to their excavation, one in the south and one in the west (Figs. 1–3).

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Inside the Lost Grottoes of Maijishan

Unmatched by the immovable stone of a massive cliff-like form, the wind bows to the unwavering integrity of the mountain, but cuts through the zigzagging maze of rickety, ancient wooden stairs, built centuries before on the mountain’s face, with the tautness of snapping fingers. Each crackle courses through pine boards in a ceaseless chorus of sound. There are places where they creak, places where they sing in low sonorous tones. There are places where the worms had eaten holes through the wood, creating small portholes through which one can see the forests of the valley floor far below………

“This is one of the most overlooked sites in China,” said Kuanghan Li. “Not many people have heard of it. Yet, it is also one of the most important. These places were built by imperial families for hundreds of years.”

It is not an understatement to say that Kuanghan Li, Global Heritage Fund’s Director of the China Heritage Program, is optimistic about the prospects for Maijishan, one of a handful of Buddhist caverns found in the country. From the train station, however, there’s little to see of one of China’s, and the world’s, most significant Buddhist complexes.

Ms. Li, Nada Hosking, Global Heritage Fund’s Director of Programs and Partnerships, and I had just arrived in Tianshui, a small, industrial city in China’s remote Gansui province. As we wound our way through its rain-choked streets, I tried to imagine the site as I had seen it from pictures. A tall, tawny-colored mountain, Maijishan appeared to me as a prominent bluff overlooking a primeval forest of oaks and pine. In the winter, the snow seasoned the worked stone with an austere grandeur, though its starkness seemed to herald the beauty of the spring yet to come.

Maijishan was more majestic in person than could be imagined. From our vantage point a giant emerged, appearing to rise at least 1,000 feet from the ground. The clay buddhas that adorned its side were massive structures some 100 feet tall and clearly visible from the visitor center half a mile away. The combination of forest, mountain, and sky, all wreathed in a midsummer mist, provided a sublime visual context.

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maijishanghf1

Maijishan in a sea of fog. ©Maijishan Grotto Art Institute and Global Heritage Fund

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After waiting for a short time in the offices of the Maijishan Art Research Institute, our partner in conserving Maijishan’s Buddhist heritage, we are assigned an English-speaking guide to take us up to the mountain. The wooden staircases that were once used by the monks have long since been removed, and in their place, an extensive series of concrete stairs and niches have been constructed to allow access to visitors. 

Climbing these stairs, one encounters the first prominent feature —  three large buddhas installed centuries ago into the mountain’s outer wall, those that appeared so small from afar on first reckoning. Their sheer size cannot be conveyed through words or pictures; craning my neck upward, I could only view them in their entirety before the strain became uncomfortable. After several flights of stairs, I was able to appreciate each segment in turn, their painted feet, their long-flowing robes, their serene faces radiating serenity, their benevolent eyes. 

Like all of Maijishan’s sculptures, these are not made from stone but from a wooden skeleton overlaid with clay and then painted. Each successive generation of monks would maintain and embroider the mountain’s many art installations, adding their own unique veneer to more than 2,000 years of history. In their absence, the sculptures, frescoes, and other artworks have decayed. With these massive sculptures, where the facade has rotted away, it is possible to discern their superstructures. 

To me at least, it’s clear why this site has enchanted so many over the millennia.

“It is as if one were to mount a carriage and pierce the mountain, carving out great niches” the sixth-century poet Yü Hsin wrote on an inscription upon a wall in one of Maijishan’s many grottoes. Though his original work is lost, his words remain to convey the awe, the power, and the majesty of this celestial confabulation: in his poems, Maijishan’s sacred caves were “carved in the darkness of the mountain peak” before earthquakes buried them, its walls “covered with inscriptions taken from holy scripture”1 until the paint faded away, the surrounding land bathed in brilliance by “an infinite medley of stars overhead” before the advent of industry polluted the skies. 

The Sheaves of Wheat Mountain

You don’t need poetry to understand why Maijishan cuts an impressive figure, and there are many candidates to explain its magnificence. Extolled as the “Sheaves of Wheat Mountain” since the early fifth century, Maijishan’s golden-hued stone contrasts markedly with the greens and browns of the forest, the blue of the local rock, and the clear, pure waters of the springs. It appears like a crown amid dull trinkets. “Up and down is 80,000 feet” one record reads, a bit of ridiculousness that does not diminish the dizzying sheerness of the mountain’s heights and the fear they inspire in everyone but the birds, the grottoes’ only inhabitants now that the original stepladders and stairs have all rotted away. 

Located only a few miles south of the main road between China and Central Asia, Maijishan became a center of cross-cultural pollination for hundreds of thousands of itinerants and a historical record written in the art of 12 separate dynasties. Indians, Mongols, Huns, Sogdians, Tibetans, Chinese, and others passed through its halls as they passed through the pages of history, each leaving an indelible piece of themselves behind. 

The mountain’s 194 grottoes are a testament to their influence. They come in seven architectural variations, are home to over 7,000 statues, and are covered in more than 100 square meters of murals. Everything is dedicated to the pursuit of Buddhism, from the artworks depicting the birth of Siddhartha to bodhisattvas contorting themselves in meditation to the arrival of new devotees.  While its physical attributes may have led to its initial prominence, it was this heritage, written and painted and sculpted upon the soft golden stone, that cemented it in the consciousness of globalized Buddhism as a cousin to Mount Sumeru, the Buddhist holy mountain, “the mythical axis of the universe.”2

The history of Maijishan, like the history of all things along these ancient trade routes, begins with a journey. In one account, the priest Hsüan-kao came to Maijishan and meditated there before forming his own ascetic system. He was later joined by the shaman T’an-Hung, who arrived at Maijishan sometime between 420 and 422. They “became good friends” and inaugurated the holy mountain’s first monastic community. After it grew to nearly 300 people, the two masters departed, Hsüan-kao for another master and T’an-Hung for Cochin, where his suicide through self-immolation is recorded in morbidly poetic terms: those who bore witness “saw Hung with a golden body, riding very swiftly westward on a golden deer.”3 — the picture of insanity tinged by religious fervor. 

This semi-mythical beginning may or may not be true, but it is indisputable that Maijishan soon became an important religious site to the rulers of China. In the Sung Dynasty-era book Fang-yü sheng-lan, a historian explains, “Yao Hsing carved the mountains and made 1,000 cliffs and 10,000 images, turning the cliff into halls.” Thereupon [it became] Chin Chou’s place of scenic beauty.”4 A stele from 1222 declares that 10,000 people prayed at the site, empires gave the priests grants of land for farming, and seven kingdoms “continuously”5 repaired it. Later empires found it important to issue imperial decrees on its name, declaring it first “Ching-nien ssu” then “Ying-chien kan ssu” and then “Jui-ying ssu” before settling, finally, on Maijishan.

But, as a consequence of its strategic location alongside the Silk Road, not even royal patronage could ensure the safety and tranquility of the Buddhist community at Maijishan. Successive kingdoms fought over the ownership of the site from its foundation, with five different governments contesting control between 385 and 446 AD. It is not hard to imagine that Maijishan was far less tranquil than the average monastic community.

The earliest cave art dates from sometime in the fifth century, but scholars are divided as to whether they were made before or after the anti-Buddhist persecutions of 446-452.6 Visiting in the eighth century, the poet Tu Fu adapted the work of his predecessor Yü Hsin to write poignantly about the cruelty of time:

There are few monks left in these remote shrines, 

And in the wilderness the narrow paths are high.

The musk-deer sleep among the stones and bamboo, 

The cockatoos peck at the golden peaches. 

Streams trickle down among the paths; 

Across the overhanging cliff the cells are ranged, 

Their tiered chambers reaching to the very peak; 

And for 100 li one can make out the smallest thing.7

And yet, a stele from the Ming Dynasty in 1642 declares that “from Yao-Chin until now has been 1,300-some years and the incense fires have never stopped,”8 a powerful testament to its longevity through the turbulent years of war. It was not until the 18th century that the grottoes saw their end as a functioning monastic community. 

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A buddha and bodhisattva preside in one of the grottoes at Maijishan. ©Maijishan Grotto Art Institute and Global Heritage Fund

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A detail from a fresco in Maijishan. ©Maijishan Grotto Art Institute and Global Heritage Fund

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Preserving Maijishan

As one of the four main large grottoes in China, the Maijishan Grottoes were announced as part of the priority group of heritage sites to be placed under emphasis by the State Department in 1961. On 22 June 2014, at the 38th World Heritage Site Nomination Conference held in Doha, Qatar, the Maijishan Cave-Temple Complex was inscribed onto the World Heritage List as part of the series of sites under “Silk Roads: The Routes Network of Chang’an-Tianshan Corridor.” Significant improvements have been made on the surrounding environment of the heritage sites following inscription. Nevertheless, appropriate preservation and management is crucial at Maijishan to ensure that the values of authenticity and integrity are retained.

“It has not undergone a lot of major intervention, at least in modern times,” Kuanghan Li says of the site. “It’s still pretty much intact and authentic. Now, with the whole [UNESCO] nomination and the development of the Chinese domestic tourism market, it’s getting more and more popular. There’s a lot of risk involved.”

For now, the main problem plaguing the site is tourism. During 2016’s May Day holiday, over 30,000 people visited the site in a single day, breaking all of its past records. Furthermore, Maijishan lacks much of the documentation and planning of other Chinese grottoes; not only does it not have a proper conservation history, it also does not have an archival record, making it difficult to understand the scope and extent of the threats to the site’s physical, built heritage. 

According to Ms. Li, the following are priorities for conserving Maijishan’s spectacular tradition of Buddhist cave art:

  • There is an urgent need for visitor management plans to be put in place to prepare for the increase in tourists,9 so as to prevent any destruction that may threaten the integrity of the site. 
  • Lack of appropriate expertise in restoring and maintaining the site may also result in the deterioration of valuable heritage material. 
  • In addition, some of the caves suffer from natural erosion.10 Proper frameworks and expertise are required to ensure that sculptures and paintings are preserved. 
  • While preserving the site, innovative solutions are needed to enhance access in a way that does not compromise visitor experience, or impose on surrounding communities. 

To develop solutions to these issues, Global Heritage Fund is partnering with the Maijishan Grottoes Art Research Institute, which has served as a source of research and expertise on the Maijishan Cave Temple Complex. Since the establishment of the Gansu Province Cultural Department, the Maijishan Grottoes Art Research Institute has further refined its methodology and has been providing integrative services related to preservation, research, and tourist reception at Maijishan.

According to the current conditions and needs at the Maijishan Grottoes site and in line with the skills of our partners, the three main goals for Global Heritage Fund’s work are:

  • Develop an operational strategy for visitor management and establish relevant courses for members of staff and volunteers at the site, including access, interpretation, visitor capacity and technology-led education.
  • Conduct a systematic examination of Maijishan’s historic preservation, including restorative principles, techniques, and methods, and use it as a foundation for building up further scientific analysis and comprehensive proposals. This will help to create comprehensive frameworks for restoring and maintaining the site’s colored sculptures and mural paintings.
  • Create a community development program focused on the living communities within the park. Activities will include education, handicraft development and promotion, and sustainable community-based tourism development and training.

As to the future of conservation at Maijishan, Ms. Li has this to say: “We hope to develop a good management plan so there is something they can run and sustain in the long term. The Maijishan Grottoes Art Research Institute has had trouble attracting staff, because the site is so remote. This isn’t as bad as it sounds, however. They mostly hire from the villages around the area, who use more traditional techniques and methods of restoration. This is a good thing overall since it helps the community and maintains the integrity of the site. We’re hoping to add to this by giving more study to these traditional methods, and helping them build off this foundation to work toward a more systematic conservation method and plan – instead of just introducing modern conservation methods very abruptly and then overrun what they’ve done before.”

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After the religious community of Maijishan departed, most of Maijishan fell into neglect. In the absence of artificial lighting, this grotto has fallen into darkness. ©Maijishan Grotto Art Institute and Global Heritage Fund

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Readers can learn more about the Global Heritage Fund and its unique mission to preserve the world’s heritage here.

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Notes:

1. Sullivan 6 

2. Sullivan 1

3. Mai-chi shan 482

4. Ibid., 482

5. Ibid., 483

6. Ibid., 484

7. Sullivan 7

8. Ibid., 483

9. http://whc.unesco.org/en/list/1442

10. http://www.shanghaidaily.com/national/Buddhist-effigies-put-into-digital-catalogue/shdaily.shtml

Sources:

http://whc.unesco.org/en/tentativelists/1631/

 

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Go Now to Shiloh

Dr. Scott Stripling is the Director of Excavations at Shiloh. Previously Stripling directed the excavations at Khirbet el-Maqatir from 2013-2016, served as Field Supervisor of the Tall el-Hammam Excavation Project from 2005 to 2010, and as a supervisor of the Jerusalem Temple Mount Salvage Project in Jerusalem.

Mrs. Suzanne Lattimer serves as Assistant Director at Shiloh. She received her M.A. in Near Eastern Archaeology and Semitic Languages at Trinity Evangelical Divinity School (TEDS) in Deerfield, Illinois. She has also dug at Tel Dor, Israel in 2004, and in the Great Smoky Mountains with the National Park Service in 2001. She has served as a Field Archaeologist from 2014 through the inaugural season at Shiloh.

“‘Go now to the place in Shiloh where I first made a dwelling for my Name, and see what I did to it because of the wickedness of my people Israel.” — Jeremiah 7:12

Numerous questions remain unanswered. Was the site [Shiloh] practically unoccupied during the Bronze Age, or did the Israelites occupy a site already sacred? When did they take it, during the Bronze Age, or at the beginning of Early Iron? This is another of the sites, which, like Ai and Jericho, can assist in determining the date and character of the Hebrew conquest. Was the place unoccupied during the Middle and Late Iron Ages, that is after the loss of the Ark? And was it destroyed by the Philistines, or did it gradually fall into ruins after the loss of the Ark? — McCown, Chester C. “Archaeological News.” American Journal of Archaeology 34, no. 1 (1930): 96.

 

Another excavation day begins as diggers disembark from the bus. The sun peaks over the Transjordan Mountains in the east, illuminating the distant twin towers in Amman, Jordan. Silently, or so it seems, the workers climb the short distance from the parking lot to the site, a walk that pilgrims have made for millennia. Some appear half asleep while others appear as if focussing intently on the day ahead. Once arrived, volunteers disperse in smaller groups to their respective squares. A family with younger children stops at the first square while a group of college students pours into another. An older couple slowly and steadily makes their way up to the site to become the final volunteers. Blue shirts, interspersed among the crowd, are supervisors who have invested years of their lives climbing similar hills to solve similar conundrums. But Shiloh, as this site is popularly known, stands unique among the ubiquitous mounds in the southern Levant. Here, in the tribal territory of biblical Ephraim, Joshua, according to the biblical account, ordered a tabernacle to be erected as a home for the Ark of the Covenant. Here, for the believers, a sacrificial system closed the gap between human sinfulness and celestial perfection. In just seven hours, the shofar will blow, signaling the end of fieldwork for another day. But until that happens, archaeologists, students and volunteers will have excavated 1,750 pieces of pottery, 35 other objects, the remains of several new walls and several new installations or structures, and perhaps even some glyptic remains………

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 Sun rising over the eastern mountains. Photo by Suzanne Lattimer

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History of Exploration and Excavation at Shiloh

In 1838, the great American Orientalist Edward Robinson linked the ruins at Khirbet Seilun, 20 miles north of Jerusalem, with the famous Israelite cultic site of Shiloh. Almost three decades later, in 1866, Major Charles Wilson, on behalf of the Palestine Exploration Fund surveyed the ruins (Wilson, 1873, 38). A few years later the French explorer Victor Guérin documented what he observed at the site (Guérin, 1875, 21–23). In the 1880s, Conder and Kitchner did the same in their Survey of Western Palestine (1882, 368). Following World War I, the Danish set their sights on excavating Shiloh, with initial soundings being executed by Aege Schmidt in 1922. With the help of Albright, Schmidt correctly identified the basic ceramic sequence at Shiloh (Albright, 1923, 10). Three seasons of excavation followed in 1926, 1929, and 1932 under the skilled direction of Hans Kjaer, with the helpful guidance of Albright and steadfast support of Schmidt. Kjaer tragically died in the middle of the 1932 season. The cause of his death remains uncertain. Glueck describes it as exhaustion from the excavation (Glueck, 1933, 66), while others attribute it to dysentery (Anonymous, BAR, 3). Albright handed the reins of the excavation to his brilliant protégé Nelson Glueck who promptly closed the dig, without explaining his reasons.

In 1963, the Danish, under Svend Holm-Nielsen, returned to execute a final series of soundings before publishing the long-awaited final excavation report in 1969. From 1981 to 1984, Professor Israel Finkelstein, on behalf of Bar Ilan University, excavated Shiloh, publishing his final report in 1993. Finkelstein corrected some of the errors of the Danish excavation. Notably, he discovered a large bone deposit in Area D, with a large quantity of Late Bronze Age (LB, or c. 1483–1177 B.C.)  pottery, some of which was cultic. Furthermore, Finkelstein states, “There were also several dozen Cypriot sherds. Most of the pottery is of the LB I horizon. There is also a small quantity of LB II pottery, although not from the end of the period” (Finkelstein, 1993, 45).

In Area C, Finkelstein connected with the work of the Danes and fully exposed Iron Age (IA) I (c. 1177 – 980 B.C.) “storage rooms” filled with pithoi of the collared-rim type. Surprisingly, these storerooms lie outside the perimeter wall. To us, this points to a construction date prior to the Philistine arrival in 1177 B.C. when Shiloh, like the meaning of its name, operated in relative tranquility. In contrast, Finkelstein assigns a date of c. 1150 B.C. to the Area C buildings. Shortly after Finkelstein concluded his work, Ze’ev Yeivin, on behalf of the Israel Antiquities Authority, conducted limited excavations on the scarp just north of the tel (the northern platform) followed by work in a few other areas. Based on the scarp’s dimensions, Wilson had advocated for it as the location of the Israelite tabernacle (Kaufman, 1988).

In the last decade, under the guidance of Hananya Hizmi, Staff officer of the Civil Administration of Judea and Samaria, further excavations have been conducted near the summit, on the aforementioned scarp, and the churches and other structures along the southern approach to the site. Evgeny Aharonovic led the excavation of the churches, and Reut Ben-Arie supervised the work on the summit, northern scarp, and southeastern fortifications. In 2017, The Associates for Biblical Research (ABR), under the direction of Scott Stripling, conducted Season One of a planned multi-year expedition, which this article summarizes.

The ABR Excavations

Research Goals

Research Goals for the ABR excavation at Shiloh include the following:

1.  Clarify the occupational history 

2.  Determine if the MB (Middle Bronze) III fortifications enclosed a city or just a temenos

3.  Document cultic remains from the BA (Bronze Age) and IA (Iron Age)

4.  Determine the extent of the BA, IA, ER (Early Roman), and Byz (Byzantine) occupation in Field H1 and on the summit

5.  Compare the excavated remains at Shiloh with those in the Highlands Region, particularly the two sites previously excavated by ABR (Khirbet Nysia and Khirbet el-Maqatir)

6. Connect the work of the Kjaer on the northwest fortifications with the work of Finkelstein on the northeast fortifications

Occupational History of the Site

The time between c. 1750–1650 B.C., which corresponds to the “MB (Middle Bronze) IIb” period, witnessed the establishment of a village without walls at the site of Shiloh. Only pottery testifies to this foundational phase. During the ensuing period (“MB III/MB IIC”, or c. 1650–1483) the residents of Shiloh constructed a massive fortification system that enclosed 17 dunams (4.25 acres). MB III in the southern Levant witnessed a proliferation of similar fortification systems. Examples include Khirbet el-Maqatir, Jericho, Shechem, and Gezer.

striplingfig1The MB III city at Shiloh, designated as our City One, suffered destruction by unknown invaders, perhaps the recently expelled Hyksos from Egypt. Resilient residents quickly rebuilt, or at least resettled Shiloh as a cultic center in the Late Bronze Age. Pit deposits of bones, cultic vessels, scarabs, and an abundance of pottery establish this fact. The LB inhabitants apparently continued to use the MB infrastructure. Israel Finkelstein, who excavated Shiloh from 1981 to 1984 on behalf of Bar Ilan University, assigned an area that contained a faunal deposit to an Israelite cleanup of the remnants of Amorite sacrifices on the summit. The deposit, however, rich in LB pottery, may serve as evidence of the Israelite sacrificial system that began c. 1400 B.C., assuming an early date for the Exodus and Conquest. In Season One, we excavated an atypically large quantity of animal bones.

According to the Hebrew Bible, the Amorites controlled the Shiloh region at the time of the conquest (Num 13:29 [Highlands]; Josh 7:7 [Ai]; 2 Sam 21:2 [Gibeon]), and this likely extended back to MB III (c. 1650–1483 B.C.). Shiloh plausibly fell within the realm of the city-state of Shechem to the north since it lies ten miles north of Khirbet el-Maqatir, a likely northern border fortress for the southern city-state of Jerusalem (Finkelstein and Na’aman, 2005, 186).

The site remained active until a possible second destruction, perhaps at the hands of the Philistines (1 Sam 4), which occurred c. 1050 B.C. Season One in Field H1 failed to yield evidence of this destruction in our Stratum V, so clarification of this proposed destruction ranks as a priority in the coming seasons. Prior to our first season of excavation, scholars widely held that IA (Iron Age) II (c. 980–587 B.C.) witnessed only a small settlement at Shiloh (1 Kgs 11:29 and 12:15; Jer 41:5), but we found that the IA II footprint exceeded that of the IA I footprint. This harmonizes with the findings of the Civil Administration team on the northern platform (Livyatan and Hizmi, 2017, 50). While we found a small amount of Persian and Early Hellenistic (c. 332–167 B.C.) pottery, the latter part of the Late Hellenistic period (c. 167–63 B.C.) saw a major resettlement at the site, and this pattern accelerated in the Early Roman (ER, or c. 63 B.C.–A.D. 136) period. We now have evidence that virtually the entire site experienced settlement in the ER period. Byzantine era (c. A.D. 325–636) builders matched this construction zeal. The city continued through the Early Islamic Age (c. A.D. 636–1099) and into the Middle Ages when apparently the Black Death or some other pestilence finally brought an end to life at ancient Shiloh.

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 Above and below: Panorama of excavations on the last day. Photo by Suzanne Lattimer

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 Volunteers dry sift the soil coming out of the squares. Photo by Michael Luddeni

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Reading pottery with reference material close at hand. Photo by Suzanne Lattimer

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Season One Findings and their Significance

Season One focused on ten 5×5 meter squares in Area H1 on the northern slope of the tel, with the intention of exposing the outside, top, and inside of the perimeter wall. This area lies between the Kjaer and Finkelstein excavations. We opened two squares (AC29 and AD29) directly connected with the Danish excavation in Areas F and H, thus continuing to expose the storage rooms inside the MB III fortification wall. At the other end of the field, Wall 6 in square AH30 clearly connects to Finkelstein’s work in Area K.

The MB III fortification wall (our Wall 1) ranges from 5.3 to 5.7 meters thick. It has a denticulated or “saw-tooth” pattern, a 1 meter wide jutting out of the entire wall, an unusual feature for the Highlands Region. Whether this massive wall functioned as a fortification wall or merely as a perimeter wall for a temenos remains unclear in light of the absence of domestic architecture from the BA and IA inside the wall. Finkelstein’s excavations revealed a massive glacis protecting the foundations of the wall, with no additional fortification. The absence of towers buttresses the hypothesis that the wall merely supported a religious platform. Our excavations proved inconclusive in this regard. While we found a glacis, it did not encircle the entire wall, perhaps being partially removed by later builders. All around Wall 1, we found an abundance of mud brick in various states of decay. This detritus suggests the existence of a mud brick superstructure atop the massive wall, a common building technique for this time period. This evidence hints at a city and not just a cultic platform. The range of colors suggests phases or refortification of the wall over time.

After the first season, we adjusted previous stratification theory and clarified the occupation on the northern side. Our excavations showed a larger IA II presence at the site than was previously realized. In fact, the IA II footprint in Area H1 exceeds the IA I footprint. It was also thought that the ER city only covered the southern portion of the tel. We, however, found extensive evidence of an ER presence on the northern side of the tel: portions of villas, objects, 100 coins, and a large volume of diagnostic pottery. Likewise, the Byzantine remains exceeded our expectations, as evidenced by large terrace walls and an enigmatic augment to the exterior of Wall 1A.

The Season One cultic remains consist of fragments of ceramic cultic stands. Of possible significance, the quantity of animal bones exceeded what we expected based on our previous excavation experience. Only additional excavation will determine if another large bone deposit, like Area D, exists at Shiloh. The forthcoming zooarchaeological report from Season One will answer a number of questions. Are the bones from animals connected with the biblical sacrificial system? Are these young animals, which are required in the biblical sacrificial system? The analysis will also illuminate the diet of the ancient inhabitants. 

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 Standing on bedrock on the outside of the MB II fortification wall. Photo by Michael Luddeni

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 Early Roman ring. Photo by Michael Luddeni

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Cutting-Edge Technology

We pride ourselves in the technological advances at Shiloh. We became one of the first in Israel to go 100% digital in the field. Supervisors record data on PDF forms on their iPads, which are backed up daily to our database. We methodically metal detect each locus, a rarity for this region. The resulting metallic discoveries are astounding. In our first season at Shiloh we located 240 coins (100 from Area H1), plus other metal objects like an MB axe and dagger. Outside of Jerusalem, we were the first, to our knowledge, to wet-sift our material. The additional excavation protocol yielded a scarab, beads, coins, and other small objects missed by the volunteers in the square and by the dry sift team. We plan to upgrade the wet-sift process for next season. We also plan to implement a three dimensional digital photography of the squares which will allow us to have a 3D rendering of each square, to see the progress of the excavation, and pinpoint measurements and objects. Furthermore, we regularly fly a drone to capture macro and micro overhead shots. All of this technology enables us to make data driven decisions regarding how, when, and where we excavate. Finally, several staff members, led by Leen Ritmeyer, spent the week following the excavation restoring several unstable walls that we exposed, using state-of the art materials and techniques.

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 Staff Metal Detectorist, Ellen Jackson, shows off a coin she found using her metal detector. Photo by Michael Luddeni

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Future Plans

It will take at least five seasons to adequately address our original research objectives. We also have a strong interest in excavating the summit of Tel Shiloh, which could take another few years. Hopefully, our work will shed light on the location of the Israelite Tabernacle at Shiloh. For a full discussion on this topic see my (Stripling) 2016 article in Bible and Spade (Stripling, 2016, 88-95).

The more that we uncover of Shiloh, the more questions tend to arise. So, we could be here for decades. For now, we take it one season at a time, filtering through almost 4,000 years of human history. Although Shiloh now ranks among the largest excavations in the southern Levant, we have saved a spot for you to join us. For details, visit www.digshiloh.org. 

Image showing stratigraphic sequences above: Stratigraphic Sequence at Shiloh. Chart by Authors

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Bibliography

Albright, W.F. “The Danish Excavations at Shiloh.” Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 9 (Feb 1923): 10-11.

Anonymous. “Did the Philistines Destroy the Israelite Sanctuary at Shiloh?” Biblical Archaeology Review 1.2 (March-April 1975): 1-6.

Conder, C. R., and Kitchner, H. H. The Survey of Western Palestine Memoirs 2, Sheets VII–XVI, Samaria. London: Palestine Exploration Fund (1882).

Finkelstein, Israel, Shlomo Bunimovitz, Zvi Lederman, and Baruch Brandl, eds. Shiloh: The Archaeology of a Biblical Site. Monograph Series of the Institute of Archaeology 10. Tel Aviv, Israel: Institute of Archaeology of Tel Aviv University (1993).

Finkelstein, Israel and Nadav Na’aman, Shechem of the Amarna Period and the Rise of the Northern Kingdom of Israel, IEJ 5 (2005): 172–93. 

Glueck, Nelson. “Palestinian and Syrian Archaeology in 1932.” American Journal of Archaeology Vol. 37.1 (Jan-Mar 1933): 160-172.

Guérin, V. Pp. 21–23 in Vol. 2 Samaria of The Survey of Western Palestine: Memoirs of the Topography, Orography, Hydrography, and Archaeology. 3 vols. London, U.K., 1875.

Hizmi, Hananya, and Reut Livyatan-ben-Arie. “The Excavations at the Northern Platform of Tel Shiloh the 2012-2013 Seasons [Translated from Hebrew].” Edited by D. Scott Stripling and David E. Graves. Translated by Hillel Richman. Near East Archaeological Society Bulletin 62 (2017): 35–52.

Kaufman, Asher S. “Fixing the Site of the Tabernacle at Shiloh.” Biblical Archaeology Review 14.6 (Nov-Dec1988): 42-49.

Stripling, Scott. “The Israelite Tabernacle at Shiloh.” Bible and Spade 29.3 (Fall 2016): 88-95.

Wilson, Charles W. “Shiloh.” Palestinian Exploration Fund: Quarterly Statement 5–6 (1873): 22-39.

Adapting PlanGrid to Archaeology

Abstract 

This report presents the past four years of our adaptation and implementation of the construction program PlanGrid as a digital field registration system at the Tel Burna Archaeological Project (Israel). In this report, we will discuss the following: (1) the benefits of using PlanGrid with tablets and smartphones; (2) details related to our specific adaptation at Tel Burna; (3) this past season’s innovation of replacing traditional architectural top plans with photographs taken with a camera attached to an overhead apparatus; and (4) instructions on how other projects may implement PlanGrid as a digital archaeological tool.

Introduction 

In recent years, many archaeological projects have adapted their field registration methods to incorporate new technological innovations in order to improve the accuracy, efficiency, and publication of their projects. With the advent of cheaper and reliable forms of hardware (e.g., iPads, Window Surface, etc.), these tools have increasingly been implemented for various purposes in both the field and laboratory (see discussion in McKinny and Shai, in press). At the same time, many new digital programs and applications have been developed to handle the considerable data-management, field-registration, and digitization needs of an archaeological project (REVEAL – Gay et al., 2010; e.g., Codifi – Prins et al., 2014; Archfield – Smith and Levy, 2014). 

Over the last few seasons, the Tel Burna Archaeological Project has taken part in this discipline-wide endeavor through our adaptation of PlanGrid as a replacement for our hand-written paper forms and plans. PlanGrid is a widely-used construction app that has revolutionized the construction industry by creating a cloud-based, intuitive blueprint and project management tool (e.g., Miller, 2015). Significantly, many of the main features that allow PlanGrid to streamline workflow within a construction project have a parallel application for an archaeological excavation. These include the following: architectural plan management; searchable and adaptable annotations; archived field photos that can be linked to specific data; scaled field measurements; well-defined and useable administrator tools; simple report compilations in both CSV and annotated PDF formats; and reliable cloud storage across multiple devices with or without an internet connection. Below, we will discuss each of these benefits within the context of our adaptation of PlanGrid at Tel Burna.  

The benefits of using PlanGrid with tablets and smartphones

Laptops, tablets, and even smartphones are becoming more and more commonplace at archaeological excavations all over the world. In particular, tablets such as the more recent generations of iPad or the Windows Surface give archaeologists a tool that provides an adequately sized screen, long battery life, a built-in camera, durability, and affordability. PlanGrid is designed to provide its highest level of functionality with a tablet or smartphone and was initially only available on an iPad. 

PlanGrid on an iPad works exceptionally well. This is clearly due to the fact that the program has passed the test of being a useable paperless alternative in the construction industry. Since PlanGrid is an app designed around a for-profit cloud-based service, users are assured of both program stability and constant improvement and development. As archaeologists who are concerned with preserving cultural heritage through digital means, PlanGrid’s popularity in the construction industry ensures us that the program will be around for many years to come. In addition to PlanGrid’s stability, it is also inexpensive. This is a major benefit since archaeological projects are often underfunded. Regarding cost, PlanGrid’s free 50 sheet cloud fits the needs of our project, but they also offer several inexpensive options that include storage for many more sheets. The combination of a stable, constantly improving cloud-based program at no cost made PlanGrid an attractive option as a field registration tool at Tel Burna.   

In light of this, we chose the combination of an iPad as our field registration tool at Tel Burna. While any later generation iPad will work with PlanGrid, we recommend purchasing iPads with cellular capabilities even if the project does not plan on purchasing a data plan for the device. The cellular feature has two main advantages. First, a project may later decide that they need internet access. Second, the cellular capability comes with a high level GPS chip that makes all photos taken on the device geo-referenced. 

During a typical excavation season, we will work in at least three areas, which means that we need at least one device for each area supervisor. Briefly defined, our adaptation of PlanGrid involves uploading a separate architectural top plan for each day of excavation and annotating that plan with our own built-in Locus/Wall and Basket forms on an iPad. Since we do not have internet accessibility at our site, area supervisors register their particular area with PlanGrid on their iPad throughout the day. Upon returning to the excavation camp, each supervisor syncs their data to the cloud, downloads the available data from the other areas, and repeats the process for the next day of excavation. 

The benefits of replacing hand-drawn top plans with “aerial” photos and PlanGrid

Over the past two seasons, we have added an additional layer to our recording system as we have replaced daily hand-drawn top plans with “aerial” photos of each excavation square. While aerial or drone images are very common in archaeological excavations, it is very difficult if not impossible to remove and replace shade over an excavation area (a necessity in July in the southern part of Israel) in order for a drone to fly over and take aerial images. Our solution to this problem was to take “aerial” photos beneath the shade using an apparatus that allowed us to take photos with enough elevation to capture all four corners of our 4 x 4 meter excavations. These photos are achieved simply by attaching a DSLR camera with a wide angled lens to a 5.5-meter-long pole (via a GorillaPod flexible tripod and some well-placed tape), which is then raised above the excavation square to take a straight-down photograph. After each square has been photographed, these photos are simply placed within the excavation square in Photoshop and the entire plan is uploaded (as a PDF) to PlanGrid. This process is repeated each day of excavation.

The Tel Burna Archaeological Project

The site of Tel Burna is located in the Judean foothills (Shephelah) a geographical region between the southern Coastal Plain in the west and the Highlands toward the east. A wide range of evidence, including Egyptian, Assyrian and Babylonian texts; biblical passages; epigraphic and material cultural finds, attest to the importance of this region as a borderland in the Bronze and, particularly, in the Iron Age, when Judahites and Philistines settled on opposite sides of the border. Since 2009, Tel Burna has undergone eight seasons of archaeological investigation under the direction of Itzhaq Shai of Ariel University. The first five seasons of excavations were under the academic affiliation of the Institute of Archaeology of Bar Ilan University, but the last two years, the excavation has been affiliated with the Institute of Archaeology of Ariel University.

Surveys at Tel Burna have shown that the site was inhabited from the Early Bronze until the Byzantine period, but occupation on the tell’s summit ceased during the Persian Period. According to the surveys and the preliminary results of the excavation, the Late Bronze Age and Iron Age II are the most significant periods of occupation at Tel Burna (Shai and Uziel, 2014; Uziel and Shai, 2010). Thus far, we have opened five areas and revealed occupational levels ranging from the 13th-5th centuries BCE. In Areas A1 and B2, we have revealed segments of a large casemate fortification that was in use during the Iron II that seems to be related to the border fortifications of the Kingdom of Judah, i.e. the Iron Age II (Shai et al., 2012). In Area A2, our team has uncovered a large 8th century BCE building on the summit with finds from the 9th-early 6th centuries BCE (Shai et al., 2014, 2015a). In Area C, we exposed several agricultural installations that seem to date from the Early Bronze Age until the Iron Age II. In Area B1, we are excavating a 13th century BCE public building with many imported and cultic finds (Shai et al., 2015b). For the purposes of this paper, we will use Area B1 as a test case for illustrating our adaptation of PlanGrid for use as an archaeological field registration tool. 

Area B1 – a large cultic building from the Late Bronze Age

Excavations in Area B1 have uncovered parts of a large building (Building 29305). The architectural remains were found only a few centimeters below the surface. The plan of the structure exposed thus far indicates that it had a large courtyard, constructed directly on the bedrock. The western side of Building 29305 is defined by a 1.4 m wide wall that runs southeast–northwest for a length of 15 m. Near the western wall on courtyard 33211, we found many different locally made and foreign objects. Among these finds were two ceramic cultic masks, several goblets or chalices, a unique three-cupped Cypriot votive vessel, a glyptic cylinder seal in the Mittani style, an Egyptian scarab, two Cypriot wavy-band pithoi, alongside many other finds (Shai et al., 2015b; Sharp et al., 2015). (See Fig 1)

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plangridfig1

Fig 1 

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We will now use this general archaeological context from Area B1 at Tel Burna to illustrate our adaptation of PlanGrid as a field registration tool:

 

A guide to adapt PlanGrid as a field registration tool using Area B1 as a test case 

This section provides a step-by-step guide on how to setup PlanGrid on an archaeological project by using screenshots of fieldwork in Area B1 at Tel Burna as a case study. 

1. Sign up for a PlanGrid account at http://www.plangrid.com/en. 

2. Choose a pricing option at https://app.plangrid.com/en/pricing. You will need to decide if you would like to have a separate PlanGrid account for each season, which means using PlanGrid would be free if your project’s needs are below the 50-sheet threshold, or if you would like to store all your sheets and annotations for your entire project. For the first option, you will need to set up a separate email account and profile credentials for each season. 

3. Start a “new project.” Start a new project and name it after the specific archaeological area within the project (e.g., 2016 Tel Burna Area B1). At Tel Burna, each of our devices is signed into the same account, however, a hierarchal workflow (i.e., view-only, administrator credentials) is available if this is necessary for a given project. 

4. Customize your project’s stamp/issue list to fit your field registration system.  This is accomplished by selecting the punching glove on the tool bar, then selecting “customize stamps.” These issue buttons will serve as the tagged basket and locus forms (or other variations from other recording systems). In theory, the issue list should be customized to match your existing registration system (e.g., “L” represents locus). Note: this step only has to be completed in the initial setup for the excavation season and the customized stamp/issue list can be shared with each “project” (i.e., each excavation area) as long as it remains under the same PlanGrid profile.

5. Create your top plan. This step will largely depend on your project’s method of creating a top plan. At Tel Burna, we overlay an “aerial” photograph (extended over the excavation square – see above for description) over our architect’s hand-drawn plans. Once we have taken these photos of each square, we add it to the top plan in Photoshop and then export the slide as a PDF. This process is then repeated each day. It is helpful if your top plans remain the same size, so that relevant annotations may be copied from one day of excavation to the next.

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plangridfig3

Fig 2      

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6. Upload your PDF drawing top plan of the excavation area to PlanGrid. This PDF top plan counts as one sheet against your 50-sheet free account. For this step, you will want to include the excavation date, area, and project so that the drawing is displayed properly in the dashboard and may be easily located in a search, although the sheet names can be edited in the browser version of PlanGrid. Note: steps 5-12 are repeated for each day of excavation. 

7. Create template stamps for your basket, locus and other field registration forms. This process involves selecting the appropriate stamp (e.g., “L” for Locus) and adding a pre-defined list of data fields from your existing registration system (e.g., stratigraphy, matrix, stratum, etc.) to the “description” stamp template. To make stamps easily distinguishable, users may want to select a specific color for the stamp template (e.g., baskets are black, loci are red, and walls are green). This is accomplished by choosing a color from the tool bar either before creating the template or simply changing the color while the button or text has been selected. These template stamps should be placed in a location on the top plan where they can be easily copied throughout the day as new loci and baskets are opened.

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plangridfig4

Fig 3

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8. Register your area by annotating your plan with your pre-defined stamps. This step is the main work of PlanGrid and requires a more detailed explanation. Users should copy and paste their template stamps as the need arises. These stamps should be placed where either the defined archaeological feature (locus/wall) or find (basket/bucket) was excavated. In order to accomplish this, it is helpful to zoom in to the exact area on the top plan before adding your annotation. The resolution of the annotation (i.e., the zoom level) is preserved when viewing the plan on a tablet or smartphone and is helpful for illustrating the archaeological features of an excavation square. Once the annotation has been added and while still at the appropriate zoom level, it is advisable to add a graphic representation of the stamp. If you are using a color-coded system you will want to match the color of the graphic with the stamp (e.g., in our system – a locus number and stamp will both be in red). In addition, there are several font sizes to choose from that may also help distinguish different types of data/stamps. At Tel Burna, we use the following annotation system: blue with the smallest font size to represent levels (no stamp needed), black with the smallest font size for baskets, red with the second smallest font size for loci (or pink if we want to distinguish different types of locus features), and green with the second smallest font size for walls. Once the stamp has received a graphic title and been properly sized and colored, it is ready for data entry, which is accomplished by clicking/touching the stamp and filling in the appropriate details.

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plangridfig5

Fig 4

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9. Fill in a form within a pre-defined stamp. Upon opening the form, users should do the following: (1) rename the stamp to the name of the locus or basket number; (2) write the name of the locus (for baskets) or square (for loci) under the data field title “room”; (3) fill in all of the appropriate details in the description section of the form, which will be populated by data field titles from your template; and (4) add a photo or photos of the locus and basket. Within the form, you also have the option to change your stamp symbol, move, copy or add a comment to your annotation. In order for photos to be attached to a specific stamp, the photos must be taken by selecting “add photo” at the bottom of the form. The “camera” button on the tool bar does not link the photos to stamps. The data within these stamps forms (including the photos) will be used to create the annotated PDF and CSV reports. Please note that there are several features in this section that we have not used in our adaption (e.g., push master, assigned to, and layers).

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plangridfig6

Fig 5

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10. Measure within PlanGrid. PlanGrid has a built-in measuring tool that once scaled to a known measurement on the plan can measure distances and surface areas. This is a helpful feature when filling out details within the locus form.

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plangridfig7

Fig 6

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11. Sync PlanGrid to the cloud and back up your work. Upon finishing the day’s excavation and returning to the excavation camp, users should connect their device to the internet and sync their data to the cloud. Since each excavation area (or sub-area) is assigned to work on a separate part of the project and all users are signed into the same account, all of that day’s registration data will be synced to the exact location where it was placed by the area supervisor. This is also an ideal time to send the excavation director or appropriate staff member a backup of that day’s registration. There are several options for this backup including a snapshot, a PDF of the entire sheet, a PDF packet report (includes snapshot and photos taken with the camera tool), and issue packet (a PDF that includes all of the issues on the sheet). Of these, the issue packet is our preferred option.

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plangridfig8

Fig 7

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12. Use PlanGrid for preliminary analysis. At Tel Burna, we use PlanGrid during our daily pottery analysis. Since the pottery basket has the same number on both the physical tag and in PlanGrid, we need to search for that basket number within PlanGrid. This is accomplished either by going directly to the plan from the relevant day of excavation or by selecting the “issues drawer” icon in the upper-right hand corner of the sheets gallery. Using the latter option, one would then select “issues log,” which will allow you to search the entire area for the specific basket. Once selected, the issue will be displayed with the plan in the background, which allows for the archaeologist to immediately determine the context of the pottery basket. This feature also works for other stamps (e.g., locus) and can be used to search the entire project for any word or phrase. Once we have analyzed a pottery basket, we select “closed” from within the form in order to easily distinguish baskets that we have analyzed. Likewise, loci should be “closed” through the same process. We also prefer to distinguish the accompanying locus graphic title by making the title have a box around it, which is an option when choosing the text’s font size.

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plangridfig9

 Fig 8

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plangridfig10

Fig 9

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13. Prepare for the next day of excavation. Repeat steps 5-6, in order to create a top plan for the next day of excavation. Once you have created the plan for the following day, open up the current day’s plan and select all relevant annotations that should appear on the subsequent day’s plan. In order to do this, select the lasso tool at the top of the tool bar. The lasso tool allows you to select annotations by either selecting all, running your finger or stylus through annotations, or “lassoing” annotations by encircling them with a circle. Once the annotations have been selected, select “copy” and then navigate to the next day’s drawings, tap the screen and select “past in place.” This will paste the selected annotations in the same location as the previous day, assuming that your top plan is the same size. If you have changed the size of your top plan, you will need to manually move each annotation (see step 9) to its desired location. After you have copied the annotations to the next day’s plan, you should then update the relevant annotations for the next day’s work (e.g., changing levels, opening new loci, etc.)

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plangridfig11

Fig 10

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14. Compile a report. One of the best features of PlanGrid is that it easily creates reports in CSV or PDF formats. Reports can only be created in the browser version of PlanGrid within the “issues” section of the dashboard. There are several filtering options within the “report” system (e.g., sheet, keywords, content, etc.) that allows a user to select the specific data that they need to export. In our adaptation, we use the CSV export in order to transfer the data from PlanGrid to our database system. This process is straightforward, but requires some data manipulation because the majority of our locus and basket data is within a single cell entitled “description,” which includes our fixed locus and basket templates. The exported PDF reports are very useful for sending data to specialists and creating end of season excavation reports for the archaeological governing authorities (e.g., the Israel Antiquities Authority). These reports are automatically collated and each “issue” (i.e., basket or locus) includes a small window showing the location of the issue on the top plan, all of the written data within the form, and any photos taken within the locus or basket form.

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plangridfig12

Fig 11

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Conclusion  

Tel Burna’s adaptation of PlanGrid has been a very useful and affordable tool for our archaeological field registration. This method together with our “aerial” photos has many advantages over paper forms that allow our project to produce better and more accurate archaeological data at a faster pace than traditional methods (i.e., hand-drawn plans and hand-written forms). Over the course of four seasons (2012-2016), we have continued to refine our PlanGrid adaptation and achieved better results in each season we have used the software. Moreover, PlanGrid itself has been constantly updated and improved by its developers, which indicates that our archaeological adaptation of the system will continue to improve as new features are added to PlanGrid. One of the defining characteristics of the system is that it provides a flawless and effortless data synchronization across multiple devices. After four seasons, we have yet to lose any data despite the fact that we work in difficult field conditions and often have a poor internet connection at the excavation camp. In light of the fact that the software itself is free, PlanGrid would seem to be a particularly useful tool for a small scale excavation on a limited budget. On the other hand, it should be noted that PlanGrid is not a database, however, the data from PlanGrid can easily be exported in a CSV file for importation into an existing archaeological database. 

We understand that there are many new digital archaeological recording systems (e.g., Codifi, Archfield, etc.), and we are open to the possibility of testing and implementing these types of systems at Tel Burna. Still, based on our very positive experience with PlanGrid over the last four seasons we highly recommend its use as an archaeological field registration tool. 

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Bibliography

Gay, E., Cooper, D., Kimia, B., Taubin, G., Cabrini, D., Karumuri, S., Doutre, W., Liu, S., Galor, K., Sanders, D., 2010. REVEAL intermediate report, in: Proceedings of CVPR Workshop on Applications of Computer Vision in Archaeology (ACVA’10). IEEE, pp. 1–6.

McKinny, C., Shai, I., in press. Using Tools in Ways in Which They Were Not Intended: A Test Case of the Use of PlanGrid for Field Registration at Tel Burna, in: Levy, T.E., Jones, I. (Eds.), Cyber-Archaeology and Grand Narratives: Digital Technology and Deep-Time Perspectives on Culture Change in the Middle East. Springer.

Miller, R., 2015. PlanGrid Lands $40 Million Investment To Expand Product. TechCrunch.

Prins, A.B., Adams, M.J., Homsher, R.S., Ashley, M., 2014. Digital Archaeological Fieldwork and the Jezreel Valley Regional Project, Israel. East. Archaeol. 77, 192–197. doi:10.5615/neareastarch.77.3.0192

Shai, I., Ben-Shlomo, D., Cassuto, D., Uziel, J., 2015a. Tel Burna in Iron Age II: A Fortified City on Judah’s Western Border. Judah Samaria Res. Stud. 24, 27–34.

Shai, I., Cassuto, D., Dagan, A., Uziel, J., 2012. The Fortifications at Tel Burna: Date, Function and Meaning. Isr. Explor. J. 62, 141–157.

Shai, I., Dagan, A., Riehl, S., Orendi, A., Uziel, J., Suriano, M., 2014. A Private Stamped Seal Handle from Tel Burna, Israel. Z. Dtsch. Paläst.-Ver. 130, 121–137.

Shai, I., McKinny, C., Uziel, J., 2015b. Late Bronze Age Cultic Activity in Ancient Canaan: A View from Tel Burna. Bull. Am. Sch. Orient. Res. 115–133.

Shai, I., Uziel, J., 2014. Addressing Survey Methodology in the Southern Levant: Applying Different Methods for the Survey of Tel Burna, Israel. Isr. Explor. J. 64, 172–190.

Sharp, C., McKinny, C., Shai, I., 2015. Late Bronze Age Figurines from Tel Burna. Strata Bull. Anglo-Isr. Archaeol. Soc. 33, 61–76.

Smith, N.G., Levy, T.E., 2014. ArchField in Jordan: Real-Time GIS Data Recording for Archaeological Excavations. East. Archaeol. 77, 166–170. doi:10.5615/neareastarch.77.3.0166

Uziel, J., Shai, I., 2010. The Settlement History of Tel Burna: Results of the Surface Survey. Tel Aviv 37, 227–245.

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The Lost Cities of Ethiopia

Samuel C. Walker was born and raised in East Africa and subsequently spent fifteen years in the Middle East including Yemen, Israel/West Bank, Jordan, Sudan, and Egypt. He currently is working in Ethiopia. He holds two Bachelor’s degrees; Religious Studies – Anthropology, and Natural Sciences & History, and two Master’s degrees; History and education (Western Oregon U) and Archaeology & Heritage Mgmt. (University of Leicester). For seven years he lived in the Micronesian Pacific islands conducting research on climate change, ecologies, and conducting research as lead field supervisory archaeologist for US Navy projects for EIS and cultural resource management. Since 2013, Walker has worked in Ethiopia, including establishing a Master’s program in Archaeology for Heritage Management and serving as lead field and supervisory archaeologist. As part of his research dissertation, he is working on creating graduate level field-intensive Cultural Resource Management teams (CRMT) specifically to address the critical needs of archaeological site identification, comprehensive field survey, data recovery and excavation field management skills, laboratory analysis and cultural material conservation, and presentation and display of these rich tangible and intangible heritages.

The Fra Mauro map (mid-15th century) provides a rare lens into the geographical worldview and mental landscapes of the medieval world. By connecting identifiable geography from this map to historical place names, we have begun to discover lost, medieval cities in Ethiopia. Scholars long considered Africa the least reliable portion of the Fra Mauro map. It is the contention of this article, however, that implementing a more Afro-Arabian geographical framework resolves apparent idiosyncrasies to the western mind, revealing a compelling story long hidden in plain view. Untangling the region of Abassia Ethyopia requires interpreting the physical features and polities transposed upon the map through the worldview of the informants from these respective regions: emissaries, pilgrims, merchants, etc. Our hypothesis asserts we can translate images of the medieval geography through the centuries to locate archaeological features. Using remote-sensing in conjunction with other early maps, we identified sites of long-lost cities such as Sadai and Tegulet, and via field-walking, have confirmed substantial architecture and period-specific cultural materials. Our continuing research traces patterns of land-use across landscapes, identifying phases of occupation and trade networks during Ethiopia’s poorly understood medieval periods. Having now created a template for interpreting this map, we expect to be able to read and understand other regions in Africa. Indeed, the Fra Mauro map has proven more than the fanciful rendering of a medieval mind. Rather, it is the “before” snapshot of a Mappa Mundi, that literally turned our view of the world upside down within a single generation, and eventually expanding it by four new continents.  

The Fra Mauro Map: An Icon of Medieval Mental Landscapes at a Pivotal Point in History

Maps serve as temporal, mental constructs of any given age. As graphic symbols for visualizing the world, each literally represents a product or icon of one’s respective worldview, in essence, the world made in our image. Medieval maps served very different functions than our current, science-based demands. Medieval navigators and, therefore cartographers, focused primarily upon safe passage, trade networks, and political alliances. Most maps contemporary with Fra Mauro depended wholly upon the Ptolemaic model, or were tied to a cosmography of Christ as Pantocrator reigning supremely from his heavenly throne (See Fig 2) (Falchetta, pp 57)

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fraumaurofig1

 This Ptolemaic map is a later rendering showing the Indian Ocean as an inland lake. https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/f/f0/Claudius_Ptolemy-_The_World.jpg

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Fig 2 - Pantocrator

Fig. 2 – http://www.bl.uk/learning/timeline/item99816.html

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In sharp contrast, the Fra Mauro map diverges from this mindset, using an empirical, verifiable framework, gleaned from existing accounts and charts. Most Christian or western maps from this period centered around Jerusalem with east at the top. Muslim maps traditionally were south-oriented given most medieval Muslims lived north of Mecca, the center or qiblah for pilgrimage and prayer. As a masterpiece of medieval cartography, the mid-15th century Fra Mauro map provides a rare lens into the geographical mindset and mental landscapes of one of the most critical transitions in Mediterranean history (Cattaneo, pp.123). Also southern-oriented, the genius of this Venetian monk in collecting maps and compiling written and oral primary accounts of travelers, merchants, pilgrims, and emissaries, creates a remarkably accurate planisphere representation of our world. Fra Mauro sketches his map not simply to expedite navigation or exploration, rather, to lay the foundations for a new world order.

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Fig 3 - NASA

Fig. 3 – Note: this image is inverted from our typical perspective with south at the top. Europe and the Mediterranean, on the right, are more clearly defined –  https://landsat.gsfc.nasa.gov/fra-mauros-mappamundi/

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In the contentious contexts of the mid-15th century, this map lays out a “Who’s who” of the medieval world. Like an intricate, medieval Risk gameboard, the cartographer’s draftings of geographical features, regional and city names, and trade routes, across his mappa mundi, identifies possible alliances alongside real and potential threats. Anything Christian, even the thinnest web of connection, is emphasized. Every city stands fortified, bounded by copious notes on regions, rulers, rivers, and where gold, spices, pearls, and fresh water can be found. Unnamed walled villages (casali) bristle across landscapes. Mountains feature prominently throughout. Passes or rivers clearly bisect the landscapes, demarcating regions and polities. Ships, identifiable with the contemporary, dominate traders, ply their respective seas. 

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Fig 4 - FM Ships

 Fig. 4 – Detailed excerpt of Indian Ocean shipping and southern India from the Fra Mauro Map. Image courtesy Marco Vigano

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Mental Landscapes of Medieval Africa  

With the sacking of Constantinople in 1453, the migration of Byzantine refugees to Europe swells to a flood. From this pinnacle of learning come architects, artists, engineers, cartographers, and scholars, carrying not only tools of their trade, but an alternate world view framed by principles of an empirical perspective. Like midwives, these intelligentsia from around the world, including the far-too-often, underrepresented regions of Africa, help birth a new scientism in Europe, of which Fra Mauro is a product.

Modern scholarship has long considered Africa the least reliable portion of the Fra Mauro map (Falchetta, pp.94). It is the contention of this article, however, that by exploring and implementing a more Afro-Arabian geographical perception, apparent idiosyncrasies to the modern mind resolve, revealing a compelling story long hidden in plain view. A re-assessment of the geographical and political representations on the African continent, especially the various Ethyopias and the “island” of Diab, demands we appreciate and honor the vantage-point and geographical knowledge of Fra Mauro’s respective African informants.

Fra Mauro’s Ethiopian, Arabian, and East African informants would undoubtedly exhibit an abundance of caution along with a fundamentally diverse worldview in transmitting geographical information. Medieval Ethyopia Abassia’s reticence in divulging too much information is rooted in a preservation mentality, seven centuries in the making. Surrounded by adversaries, the Christian kingdom of Abyssinia has long maintained its near-monastic solitude, safeguarding its identity as the authentic church. The myths and legends of the Kebra Negast, known in English as the Glory of the Kings, grow deeper, entrenched in the Ethiopian psyche. Claiming direct descendancy from Israel’s King Solomon via the Queen of Sheba, along with St. Phillip’s conversion of Queen Candace’s eunuch as the first Ethiopian Christian, Abyssinia visualizes itself as the new, chosen-people of God. Comparatively, what this younger, diaphysite, western church might proffer appears inconsequential.

During the early medieval period, it is the west that initially courts Africa. For three centuries, the legends of the famed Prester John have fermented in the medieval mind, intoxicating the courts of Europe with stories of wealth, military power, and a biblical, spiritual lineage second only to Christ. By the mid-14th century, the futile search for this monarch in Asia turns its focus to Africa, where, due to Ethiopia’s intermediary trading position, exporting trade goods from India to Europe, Ethiopian kings are often misidentified as kings of India (Van den Bosch, 2007, pp.22). Fra Mauro inscribes references to the legendary king, Prester John, across Abassia, even to mentioning his capital and the number of kingdoms under his Lordship.

In contrast, embassies from Abyssinia-Ethiopia visiting Venice in the 1430’s, and Florence in 1441, seek relics and icons over mere political or religious alliances (Falchetta, pp.98; Siebold, Monograph #249). One can easily imagine various diplomats and our monks plying these illustrious pilgrims with wine and questions regarding geography, political boundaries, trade networks, and allegiances. Over the following decade, further information is gleaned, eventually making its way onto a map that will literally turn the way we imagine our world upside down.

The political and geographical information on Abassia, or Abyssinia-Ethiopia, is disproportionately represented in relation to other parts of Africa for two primary reasons. First, given their respective Christian ties, Fra Mauro and his colleagues enjoy far more contact and therefore, primary accounts from informants of these regions than from southern, central, or western African communities. Second, informants upon the Swahili Coast, in the 13th – 14th centuries called the Daybuli, consisting of African trade cities established by Muslim-Arab conquerors from India (Davidson,1967, pp.99), appear reticent to divulge information of their particular region to a competing, foreign, non-Islamic power. Understanding these factors proved essential in reading and unlocking the secrets of what appears an arbitrary, even nonsensical southern African geography.  

Fra Muaro’s World Within a Gilded Frame 

Fra Mauro defends the reliability of his African primary sources as justification for expanding upon Ptolemy’s terra incognita. Inscription number *98 regarding these regions informs our scholarship, “Because to some it will appear as a novelty that I should speak of these southern parts, which were almost unknown to the Ancients, I will reply that this entire drawing, from Sayto (Assiut, Egypt) upwards, I have had from those who were born there. These people were clerics who, with their own hands, drew for me these provinces and cites and rivers and mountains with their names; all these things I have not been able to put in due order for lack of space” (Falchetta, pps. 210-203).

Fra Mauro’s paramount intent is reliability and authenticity to an expanding body of knowledge. Yet bound by the parameters of his parchment and wishing to be faithful to his latitudinal and longitudinal constraints, he states, “I do not think that I am being unfaithful to Ptolemy if I do not follow his Cosmography, because if I had wanted to observe his meridians, parallels, and degrees, I would have had to omit many provinces within the known part of the world that Ptolemy does not give: everywhere in his account, but especially to the north and south, he gives areas as terra incognita because in his day they were not known” (*2892 – Falchetta, pp. 711).

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Fig 5 - FM Mappa mundi

Fig. 5 – Note: This map is inverted from its original for ease of reading. The enclosure indicates direct governance according to Fra Mauro’s informants. Other inscriptions indicate tributary allegiances across the continent.  https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/1/1b/FraMauroDetailedMap.jpg

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For reasons stated above, the further south the cartographer ventures, the less information is available. Fra Mauro defends himself against claims that he does not follow Ptolemy, by paraphrasing the ancient geographer, “one can only speak correctly of regions that are visited continually; of those which are less frequented no-one should think himself capable of speaking with equal accuracy.” Fra Mauro continues, “So I say that in my own day I have been careful to verify the text by practical experience, investigating for many years and frequenting persons worthy of faith, who have seen with their own eyes I faithfully report above” (ibid, pp. 701). Fra Mauro evidently feels justified to move beyond the constraints of existing scholastic mindsets. 

Our current research has likewise benefited from this vantage point, aided by an Afrocentric, indigenous frame of reference and many newly translated manuscripts from these regions and periods. We too have attempted to carefully “verify the text by practical experience” as we continue to investigate on the ground what we have seen with our own eyes. Our investigation has confirmed the surprising completeness and accuracy of Fra Mauro’s research.  In more southern regions, we accounted for cultural, economic, and political factors while recognizing a necessary shift in orientation, imposed by the limit of his parchment space. 

Approaching the upper, southern margins of his parchment with regions yet to be included, the cartographer is forced to sketch these further reaches of Africa via shifting everything east. Recognizing the inevitable inaccuracies in his degrees in longitude, he chooses rather to favor completeness. We will come back to the operative words “in due order for lack of space.” 

Translating Fra Mauro: a Cartographic Rosetta Stone

The nature of most medieval maps dictates we interpret each through a broader Ptolemaic or ecclesiastical metanarrative. In contrast, Fra Mauro’s golden frame encompasses the medieval world within the broader, regional, mental-constructs laid out above. Armed with this perspective, our team began reading our current Ethiopian landscapes through the flat iconography portrayed in the early renaissance style of Fra Mauro. Rivers and mountains of varying hues designate the major physical features enfolding respective medieval provinces and kingdoms. Five centuries on, this geography still broadly defines Ethiopia’s current regions and states, distinguished by factors of language, cultures, and religious expressions. Cities within these regions, illustrated as turreted towns, lay along trade routes.

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Fig 6 - FM Geo locations

Fig. 6 – Excerpt of Fra Mauro of Ethyopia Abbasia showing geographical and political features. 

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Our initial task in untangling the provinces of Abassia Ethyopia, writ large across most of central and east Africa, required recognition of identifiable geographical features and polities transposed upon the map by reputable Afro-centric clerics, scholars, and representatives of these regions. Starting from Egypt’s first cataract at Sua (Aswan) near Nuba or Nubi, we traced mountain ridges and rivers up to the southern reaches of Abyssinian hegemony referred to as Ethyopia quasi deserta e montuosa. An arbitrary river with a line of forest on either side demarcates regions south of direct Ethiopic governance. Within Abyssinia-Ethiopia, discernable rivers, mountains, kingdoms (Regnos), or provinces and cities, include Aksum in Tigray (hacsum, tegre) and the four tributaries of the Tekeze river streaming from the mountain of Roha. The map clearly defines Lake Tana and Abay, Ethiopia’s name for the Blue Nile. Further south, the geographical features of the Awash river (fl. Ausai) with Mt. Zukwala and lake Zwai (xiauala ouer xiquala & lago zuua) circumscribe Prester John’s suzerainty of African Christendom under the oversight of the Metropolitan of the Alexandrian Coptic church.   

Having oriented ourselves, we then attempted to “translate” the Fra Mauro map, much as an epigrapher would an ancient inscription. Like a cartographic Rosetta Stone, moving from the known to the unknown, we collected images of subsequent medieval maps in an attempt to decipher the conceptual content and mental landscapes of represented physical geography through successive shifts in political, religious, or economic paradigms. Throughout, our noted geographical features remained constant. Topographies represented on medieval maps, such as lakes, rivers, and mountains, evolved into discernable landmarks and observable landscapes on modern maps. Slowly, like a developing embryo, we witnessed these morph from medieval icons into recognizable place names of regions, cities, or trade routes. 

Our final test sought to read our current landscapes back through the centuries and interpret the physical geography seen and described by mid-fifteenth century Ethiopian monks and emissaries to a Venetian monk who then transcribed them on a two-meter piece of parchment thousands of kilometers and a few cultures and languages removed. To crack the code of the Fra Mauro map in regard to our regions, to say nothing of south and central Africa, we had to try. 

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Fig 7 - Munster

Fig. 7 – Munster, 1554 – https://libweb5.princeton.edu/visual_materials/maps/websites/africa/maps-continent/1554munster.jpg

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Our first hurdle required we demythologize the majority of maps from the subsequent centuries which retained much of the fanciful Ptolemaic narratives and mythical topography of Africa’s interior, including cyclops, fabled beasts, the Mountains of the Moon, and of course, Prester John. Ironically, these maps were to provide invaluable clues in addressing one of the major debates related to the interpretation of the Fra Mauro map and Africa, that of the “island” of Diab

The second hurdle involved geopolitical ramifications wrought by decades of war in the middle of the 16th century. Regional conflicts left desolation to both sides. Many of the main population centers and trade routes depicted on the Fra Mauro map simply ceased to exist. Where once thriving, urban centers dominated, sparse villages dotted the landscapes. In the highlands, new population centers with new names replaced anything old. By the end of the 17th century, the memory of the raging conflicts between the Islamic forces of Imam Ahmad, known as Ahmad Gran or the left-handed, and the variably named Christian kingdom of Shoa, Xoa, or Sewa, had cooled to an uneasy, smoldering detente. Yet these wars had prompted mass migrations of populations followed by the influx of new cultures and languages (Newman, pp. 99). A shifting of place-memory displaced most previously associated oral traditions. Alternate land use and new agricultural practices swallowed up previous occupational contexts. Most associated religious structures, along with their treasures of relics and manuscripts, also perished, usually via fire. The loss of contexts with which to even begin to identify lost cities was exacerbated by a paucity of scholarship related to these eras. Undaunted, we pressed on.

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Fig 8 - Coronelli

Fig. 8 – Coronelli, 1690 – https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/3f/1690_Coronelli_Map_of_Ethiopia%2C_Abyssinia%2C_and_the_Source_of_the_Blue_Nile_-_Geographicus_-_Abissinia-coronelli-1690.jpg

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The earliest map that proved critical in framing the rugged landscapes of Abyssinia’s identifiable mountain ranges, passes, and rivers, along with cities in associated regions, was the 1690 Coronelli map, also from Venice. This primary source provided a post-medieval perspective on our tangible topography. The mountains that had defined medieval political states continued to limit expansion. Like words borrowed from an archaic vocabulary, Coronelli’s mountains helped us translate a matching political narrative, back to Fra Mauro’s century-and-half-old geography, and its original African mindset. Corresponding geographical features provided our first key to unlocking locations of long-lost cities on the Fra Mauro map. 

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Fig 9 - Cary

Fig. 9 – Cary Arabia and Abyssinia map, 1811 – http://www.raremaps.com/gallery/enlarge/33908

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The 1811 Cary map provided us our next series of clues. With each century, the earlier artistic mythologies gave way to a more realistic physical geography. Regions and political entities remained bounded by the strictures of observable landscapes. Connecting rivers or mountains on an 1811 map to rivers and mountains etched on a 1690’s map, we translated back to the 1450’s map. Thus, we were able to “read” the conceptualized landscapes through time and, more importantly, through a medieval mind’s eye. 

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Fig 10 - Pinkerton

Fig. 10 – Section of Pinkerton, 1818 – https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:1818_Pinkerton_Map_of_Nubia,_Sudan_and_Abyssinia_-_Geographicus_-_Abyssinia-pinkerton-1818.jpg

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Pinkerton’s 1818 Abyssinia & Nubia map traces the upper Nile. The odd and inaccurate orientation of the mountains of Shoa, however, caught my eye. The cartographer appeared to have regressed to an earlier time where mountains could arbitrarily be drawn upon a map for aesthetic purposes rather than indicators of true landforms. This led me to reassess Pinkerton’s abstractions of depicted mountains surrounding Ifat, Fatagar and southern Abassia, and subsequently to reconsider and weigh analogous geographical or conceptual biases all the way back to the Fra Mauro map. 

Since Pinkerton’s focus is hydrology, his mountains appear drawn as merely presumed necessary elements to funnel water from the highlands to the Nile. Fra Mauro’s emphasis, on the other hand, frames the boundaries of regional hegemonies and trade networks of an ancient and wealthy kingdom determining potential alliances, trade, and partnerships for the future. Whereas Pinkerton’s mountains seem practically superfluous, Fra Mauro’s mountains represent physical barriers to commerce or conquest, and inviolable boundaries between friend and foe.

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Fig 10 - Pinkerton

Fig. 11 -Kautx, 1868 – https://www.bigstockphoto.com/image-26737070/stock-photo-old-map-of-abyssinia-with-red-sea-region-map-insert-created-by-kautx-and-gillot,-published-on-l-illustration,-journal-universel,-paris,-1868

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The final piece to our puzzle came with the 1868 Kautx map showing substantial elements of geography recognizable to a modern map reader. Many of the details on this map are sourced in an episodeall but forgotten episode in the west: the British Napier Expedition against the Emperor Tewodros in 1868 (Sharf). For Ethiopians, however, this event defines the critical juncture of Ethiopia’s emergence into the modern era. On Kautx’s map, the political names and physical-geographical features we previously observed, had gestated from fanciful images, into recognizable place names of cities, lakes, rivers, and mountains. Through four centuries, our maps, like Ethiopia itself, had entered the modern era.  

A Tale of Two Lost Cities: From Google Earth to Artifacts on the Ground  

Now came the challenge to test our hypothesis. Could we physically locate and discover a medieval site listed on the Fra Mauro map, but long-forgotten and lost for centuries? Could we read the physical geography of our current landscapes and then interpret back through the centuries the actual landscapes as described by mid-fifteenth century Ethiopian monks and emissaries to a Venetian monk? To crack the code of the Fra Mauro map pertaining to Abassia and south and central Africa—again, we had to try.

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Fig 12 - FM South with Names

Fig. 12 – Southern Abassia section of the Fra Mauro map indicating toponomy and geographical features – Note: The southern orientation means that south is above.  

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We selected an undiscovered site within the southern reaches of Abbasia called Sadai or Saba. It is listed under Regno de Saba (the Kingdom of Sheba and, therefore, of Prester John), as the residence of the Metropolitan sent by the Coptic Patriarch in Alexandria (Questa el legato euicario del patarcha). It lies on the west slope of a mountain called Ambanegst and south of a mountain range running east-west called the Entoto-Amba Range. It lies northeast of the Awash River (fl. Auasi), and west of the 3,000-meter volcano still called Mt. Zokwala (Xiquala). The only large mountain fitting the description for Ambanegest is now called Menagesha or Mt. Wechecha, with a small mountain adjacent where, until recently, emperors were crowned. The name Ambanegst loosely translates to “the uplift or mountain of kings.” East of this mountain, the still unidentified capital city of Barara is indicated as the principal residence of Prester John. We have a candidate for this site, but it remains off limits. Note: the map above is inverted from our normal orientation.

Fra Mauro illustrates Sadai hugging the western slope of Mt. Ambanegst. I searched Google Earth for locations fitting our parameters. And there it was: large, circular fortifications upon a knoll overlooking the entire western and much of the southern frontier. Clear evidence of architectural features accompanied by crop marks indicated possible occupation over an area extending several kilometers square. Sadai had been one of the first cities destroyed in 1530 by the marauding forces of Imam Ahmad Gran. None of our subsequent maps contain any mention of this ecclesiastical capital. Since we had no possibility of cross-referencing its location, we elected to physically visit the site and hopefully confirm what we were seeing on images.

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Fig 13 - GE Sadai

Fig. 13 – Google Earth image with identified sites associated with Sadai – on the west slopes of Mt. Menagesha/Wechecha or Ambanegst  

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Managing a team from the College of Development Studies at Addis Ababa University, we visited the southern-most identified features, and walked north. Cultural material and architecture were immediately evident upon our transects across an area of several hundred meters. Thinking like medieval strategists, we moved from high-point to high-point, noting walls of ashlar masonry (carved stones), fieldstones, even evidence of earthen bulwarks and moats or ditches. Every footfall evidenced urban habitation.

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Fig 14 - Sadai Pics

Fig. 14 – Sadai – Architecture and Cultural Material – (Photo credit – SCW)

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Eventually, we identified three substantial occupational areas and a possible fourth distinct fortification site. Each contains dense period-specific cultural material and architecture, with corresponding monumental walls containing varying stages or phases of occupation. Immediately south upon an isolated hill, lies a possibly related church complex where we discovered a series of pre-Christian funerary monuments with inscribed, monumental stones, deliberately toppled stone stelae, and a series of well-built, rectangular, architectural elements. The current church sits atop a much larger, older foundation. Medieval pottery remains in-situ in cuts along the road to the church.

Local farmers and a church deacon gave us various renditions of stories related to the sites, referring to the areas south as Sada, or north as Sabu, similar to Fra Mauro’s Saba. The sites upon the forested slopes they simply refer to as “the walls.” In asking for a translation, we were told Sadai is the local word for standing stones, or stelae, precisely like the desecrated ones identified in the ancient, pre-Christian cemetery. This was our Eureka moment; a previously un-identified site, fitting the descriptions on the Fra Mauro map, containing substantial architecture and quantities of medieval cultural material spread over an eight kilometer transect. Additionally, an ecclesiastical capital required an adjacent major church. The small modern church is built upon the substantial ruins of a much older and larger church. 

Convinced now of the tenability of our hypotheses, I returned to our collections of historical and modern maps. I sought hints to validate this as our candidate. Upon each map, I traced feasible trade routes, constraining topographical features, and traveling distances between identified sites and settlements against associated geographical landmarks. I evaluated geology and soil types, rainfall patterns, hydrological data, and vegetation potentials in relation to relief maps. All these data affirmed, this must be Sadai

This process of discovering Sadai provided a key whereby we could unlock the location of other lost cities. We followed discernable trends as they echoed repeatedly across the centuries. Specific physical features consistently restricted the parameters of trade into and out of the highlands. At strategic choke points, we found ruins of medieval fortifications. Upon protected, defensible ridges with sufficient access to water and agricultural soils, yet close enough to trade routes, larger population densities were secreted away. 

I then had an epiphany—it was a technological shift in the tools of war that generated the biggest alteration in occupational patterns. The introduction of the musket and cannon in the early 16th century radically altered the parameters of what constituted defensibility. More than any other factor, gunpowder rendered moats and wooden palisades inconsequential. Prior geopolitical criteria determining strategic positions for earlier medieval sites and fortifications became obsolete. Adding this new variable to our equation enabled us to create an invaluable template of where pre-16th century sites should be situated.

As if on cue, another long-lost city, Tegulet, asserted its presence. All place-memory of this medieval capital had vanished. Though it is mentioned throughout the medieval period as the capital of Abyssinia, its location remained a mystery. Utilizing the remote sensing methodology we had devised, and adding our new variable, we narrowed our search to a series of ridges along the Jemma River drainage basin, west of the ancient trade routes and north of Debra Berhan, the new city established by Emperor Zara Yaqob in 1456. 

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Fig 15 - Tegulet GE

Fig. 15 – Tegulet overview – Google Earth images 

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Within less than twenty minutes of scanning images on Google Earth, given our set parameters, we had identified three possible candidates for occupational-sites with probable architectural features. Hopeful, we again ventured forth for a two-day excursion with a team from Addis Ababa University. Driving along the main ridge we had identified, we inquired of locals and were told the place was called Addis Ga, “the New Place.” So, there had been an “old place” somewhere nearby. Another name repeatedly given was Debra Warq, “the Hill of Gold.” A designation of Tegulet was never volunteered. Eventually we inquired, “Have you heard of Tegulet?” Most gave a shrug or mentioned a region at the end of the valley by that name, yet no one knew for sure. A bit disappointed, we continued walking west, descending the narrow ridge toward our main sites, ten and twelve kilometers further west. 

Less than a kilometer in, atop a flat plateau to the north, we discovered our first evidence of architecture comprised of a double coursing of monumental stones. Just beyond, the track dropped along a narrow escarpment, where oddly, a road had been carved into the hillside. At the base of the cliff, the road continued with pavers imbedded in the earth. Three hundred meters further, where the road ascended a slight slope, the bedrock showed evidence of ruts cut by wheeled vehicles over a period of perhaps several centuries. 

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Fig 15 - Tegulet GE

Fig. 16 – The “Royal Road”:  left- ruts; center- the pavers; right- terraced road. Note, the left terrace is modern. (Photo credit – SCW)

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In medieval Ethiopia, there is no record of wheeled vehicles, carts, chariots, or the like. Yet, we followed an obvious, built-road, wide enough for two vehicles with axels 185 cm, to the main site, a full ten kilometers along the ridge. In the fields all along the route, medieval cultural material abounded. When asked, our informants replied that similar things could be found in heavy concentrations further down the ridge.

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Fig 17 - Tegulet Architecture

 Fig. 17 Linear and circular architectural elements at Tegulet – (Photo credit – SCW)

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Two hard days of trekking produced ample proof this was indeed an area containing all the hallmarks of a substantial, if not royal medieval site. We documented five main areas containing dense concentrations of cultural material including pottery fragments, stone tools, cores, flakes, and iron slag. Architectural features including walls, towers, enclosures, and stone alignments, and stone abrading tools used for preparing manuscripts, along with debitage from semi-precious stones such as carnelian, jasper, agate, chalcedony, and corundum – used in jewelry, book covers, and vestments – were also discovered. Many seeps or small springs percolated sufficient water for year-long irrigation and for livestock. Locals retained no place memory of these sites; to them, these old places had simply always existed. 

In reading Burton’s First Footsteps in East Africa for our desk-based analysis, I came across various accounts of Tegulet and the conflicts during the Imam Ahmad Gran wars of the late 1520’s through 40’s. Burton claims that much of the kingdom of Shoa was conquered by Islamic forces in 1528 accompanied by much destruction by fire (Burton, vol. II, pp.5). A century earlier, in 1456, Emperor Zara Yaqob established the new city of Debre Berhan, a mere 23 kilometers south of our proposed research area—this town of course appearing too late for the Fra Mauro map. Additionally, Tegulet is mentioned as the launching point of Emperor Amda Sion (1312-1342) against the lowlands of Adel and Ifat (Burton, vol. II pp.3-4). Emperor Alexander (reigned 1478-1495) was assassinated in Tegulet by his complicit bodyguard, forcing his successors, Naud and Dawit or David III, (died 1540) to live encamped in transient sites supported by the newly arrived Portuguese, engaging in conflicts with Imam Ahmad Gran, (ibid, pp. 6).

Burton relates one final intriguing episode. After the death of Imam Ahmad at the hands of the Portuguese (1543), Emperor Claudius began rebuilding a site known as Debra Warq, “a celebrated (Christian) shrine” destroyed by invading Islamic forces (ibid, pp11). He was killed in battle (1559) before completing the goal. While there are many sites with this name, at the furthest point upon our research ridge sits a ruin called Debra Warq with evidence of an extremely intense fire. The very soil itself still retains a burnt aspect a full five centuries on. Fire-cracked rock and elements of vitrification strew the landscape.

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Fig 18 - Tegulet CM collection

Fig. 18 – Tegulet cultural materials collection: top- flakes and debitage; lower left- abrasion stone for vellum preparation; center- early choppers; right- pottery shards from the main occupation site gathered in an area covering 25 meters. Photo credit – SCW

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These data: historical accounts, the “royal road”, the ubiquitous period-specific cultural material, the monumental architecture, the semi-precious stones, the iron slag, the affects of intense fire, combined as confirming evidence that we had indeed found our site. Our second eureka moment in as many weeks, painted an intriguing, rich narrative lost in history—the forgotten grandeur of a medieval kingdom hidden beneath the contemporary demands of a developing nation. 

These discoveries provide a promising beginning. In our exploration, no day is ever routine. Using our research template, we continue seeking lost cities and ruins strewn across Ethiopia’s magnificent and varied landscapes. Daily we are tantalized with Ethiopia’s secrets. With every footfall, the ground seems to reverberate this noble history’s sheer will to be reborn. Starting from the ground up, our team continues to actively pursue partnerships to enhance our remote sensing and comprehensive field-walking surveys, and bring others along this journey of discovery.

Regarding our regions in Africa then, it appears the Fra Mauro map has proven itself far more than the fanciful rendering of a medieval mind. It is indeed a prescient icon or a Mappa Mundi that launched thousands of ships which literally turned our view of the world upside down within a single generation, eventually expanding it by four new continents. As for us, we have set our sights to disentangle other regions in Ethiopia including the unnamed cities on the southern border of Abassi. We are also well on our way to implementing our methodologies and creating partnerships with hopes we can eventually address the mysteries associated with the “island” of Diab.

A Call for More African-based Research 

Questions inevitably remain pertaining to the poorly understood, yet complex subjects relative to broader ancient and medieval studies. Historical, cultural, and geographical connections across the Southern Red Sea, the Indian Ocean, and the Eastern Mediterranean remind us of the larger and deeper significance Ethiopian history and heritage holds for our world. The mysterious, forgotten past that paint Ethiopia’s landscapes in myriad colors of the impossible, inspire us. The brilliance of these varied, interred ancient and medieval empires whisper their faded splendor to those who still intently seek it. 

Our hope remains that we can initiate a series of broader conversations by creating greater access to the literature from these regions, thus informing and building a network of scholarship which utilizes all the resources available to us. We wish to create partnerships with local scholars across our regions and begin asking new questions, tying our respective medieval periods together beyond the artificial standards of comparisons based upon modern economic or religio-political terms. To better understand our commonality and connectivity beyond modern or traditional boundaries, we must validate and honor indigenous self-perceptions within historical, national, and individual frameworks. All will benefit from the cross-pollination of worldviews originating within this wide-ranging, local historical discourse. 

Through the auspices of St. Mary’s University in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, we continue our research and discovery. Our goal is to present our finds while working alongside other professionals, institutions, agencies, and governmental organizations to create indigenous capacity and trained scholars to advance research and tourism potential within Ethiopia and the broader region. The next steps require creating desk-based analyses for each site and to conduct comprehensive field-walking surveys to include sub-surface/geophysical survey and remote sensing analysis. Upon completion of this phase, our goal is to preserve, present, and promote these newly discovered cities to the world, opening them up for further research, training, and tourism development.

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For questions, comments, or clarifications, please contact the author at:  [email protected]

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Bibliography  

-Brotton, J. ed. Great Maps – The World’s Masterpieces Explored and Explained, DK Publishing, 2014.

-Burton, R. F. First Footsteps in East Africa or An Exploration of Harar, Dover Publications, Inc. 1987.

-Cattaneo, A. Terrarum Orbis 8 – Fra Mauro’s Mappa Mundi and Fifteenth-Century Venice, ­ Brepolis, 2011.

-Davidson, B. The Growth of African Civilizations- East and Central Africato the Late Nineteenth Century, Longmans, 1967.

-Davidson, B. The Lost Cities of Africa, An Atlantic Monthly Press Book – Little, Brown, and Co. 1959.

-Dudd. R. E. The Adventures of Ibn Battuta – A Muslim Traveler of the 14th Century, University of California Press, 1989.

-Edson, E. The World Map 1300-1492 The Persistence of Tradition and Tranformation, The Johns Hopkins Univeristy Press, 2007.

-Falchetta, P. Terrarum Orbis 5 – Fra Mauro’s World Map, With a Commentary and Translation of the Inscriptions, Brepolis, 2006.

-Hibbert, C. Africa Explored – Europeans in the Dark Continent 1769-1889, Penguin Books, 1984.

-Hugh, C, ed. (1911).Unyamwezi“. Encyclopædia Britannica27 (11th ed.). Cambridge University Press. pp. 781–782.

-Newman, J. L. The Peopling of Africa – A Geographic Interpretation, Yale University Press, 1995.

-Pearson, M. N. Port Cities and Intruders – The Swahili Coast, India, and Portugal in the Early Modern Era, The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1998.

Sharf, F. A. Abyssinia 1867-1868: Artists on Campaign, McMullen Museum of Art, 2007

– Van den Bosch, G. Maps on the legend of Prester John, BIMCC Newsletter No. 29. pps. 19-24.2007

-Whitfield, P. The Charting of the Oceans – Ten Centuries of Maritime Maps, Pomegranate Artbooks, 1996.

-Williams, F. M. Understanding Ethiopia – Geology and Scenery, Springer, 2016.

 

Web Sources 

http://cartographic-images.net/Cartographic_Images/249_Fra_Mauros_Mappamundi.html (Siebold, J. Monograph #249)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bunyoro

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kingdom_of_Karagwe

– (Cary 1811) – http://www.raremaps.com/gallery/enlarge/33908 

– (Coronelli 1690) – http://www.geographicus.com/P/AntiqueMap/Abissinia-coronelli-1690

– Fra Mauro 1450) – https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/1/1b/FraMauroDetailedMap.jpg

– (Kauxt map 1868) – https://www.bigstockphoto.com/image-26737070/stock-photo-old-map-of-abyssinia-with-red-sea-region-map-insert-created-by-kautx-and-gillot,-published-on-l-illustration,-journal-universel,-paris,-1868

– (Munster, 1554) – https://libweb5.princeton.edu/visual_materials/maps/websites/africa/maps-continent/1554munster.jpg  

– (NASA Comparative map) – https://landsat.gsfc.nasa.gov/fra-mauros-mappamundi/ 

– (Pantocrator map) http://www.bl.uk/learning/timeline/item99816.html (Pinkerton 1818) – http://www.geographicus.com/P/AntiqueMap/Abyssinia-pinkerton-1818 

– (Ptolemy Map) – https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/f/f0/Claudius_Ptolemy-_The_World.jpg

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Canaanites and Israelites at Tel ‘Eton, Israel

Avraham Faust is chairman of the Martin Szusz Department of Land of Israel Studies and Archaeology at Bar-Ilan University. He has been the director of the Tel Eton excavations since 2006.

Tel ‘Eton (Figure 1) is a large, 6 hectares mound in Israel’s lowland (the Shephelah), at the edge of the trough valley which separates the lowlands from the Judean highlands (Figure 2). The ancient city, usually identified with biblical ‘Eglon (Josh 10:34-36: 15:39), is situated near an important junction on the north-south road that meandered along the trough valley and the east-west road that connected the coastal plain with Hebron. The site’s location near large valleys also secured its proximity to fertile soils, increasing its economic importance.

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etonfig1Fig. 1: An aerial photograph of Tel ‘Eton, looking north (photographed by Sky View\ Griffin Aerial  Imaging)

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etonfig2Fig. 2: A schematic map showing the location of Tel ‘Eton

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Past Research

Salvage excavations in the vicinity of the mound, in the large necropolis that surrounds Tel ‘Eton, were carried out already in 1968, and small-scale (four squares) salvage excavations of the mound were conducted in 1977 by the Lachish Expedition (headed by David Ussishkin, and directed by Etan Ayalon and Rachel Bar-Natan). 

The Bar-Ilan University (BIU) Expedition

The current project started in 2006, on behalf of the Institute of Archaeology at the Martin (Szusz) Department of Land of Israel Studies and Archaeology at Bar-Ilan University.[1] The site was selected for excavations due to its location at the eastern edge of the Shephelah, just below the Judean highlands. While the lowlands are well-known archaeologically, the highlands are far less studied (as a result of security concerns, unclear political status, etc.). Tel ‘Eton is not located on the highlands, but its location does have a few advantages in this respect, as it is located farther east than any other mound currently excavated in the lowlands, hence providing much better information on the heartland of Judah. Additionally, it is located on the border between two geographical units (lowlands and highlands), and the information collected can inform us about the changing relations between these regions, and on the role of Tel ‘Eton in the interaction. (The excavations also aim to address a number of methodological issues, such as the reliability of surveys, site formation processes, remote sensing, and more, but these cannot be discussed here).

The Field Work

Over the course of the nine seasons of excavation conducted so far (2006-2014), we have excavated five Areas (Figure 3). Area A is located at the highest point of the mound, and was chosen because of its prominent location; Area B is also located in the upper part of the site, adjacent to the Lachish expedition excavation trench. This area also serves as our “section”, where we cut deep into the mound in order to reach most periods; Area C is located on the northeastern slope of the site, and was chosen randomly, in order to provide us with information on the situation in the lower part of the city; Area D is located on the western part of the upper mound, and was selected in order to study the fortifications of the site; Area E was opened in an attempt to verify the results of remote sensing survey we conducted at the site.

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etonfig3Fig. 3: Map of the mound showing excavation areas (2014)

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The History of Tel ‘Eton Through Archaeology

The Canaanite Town

The earliest period we uncovered so far in the excavations is that of the Early Bronze Age (third millennium BCE), but the remains are buried deep below the later remains, and the exposure was very limited. No Intermediate Bronze Age (2300-2000 BCE) remains were yet unearthed in the excavations and survey, and although a few sherds from the Middle Bronze Age (2000-1550 BCE) were found in the survey, no remains from this period have been uncovered yet.

A significant settlement existed on the mound during the Late Bronze Age (ca. 1550-1200/1150 BCE), and remains from this period were unearthed wherever we cut through the Iron II destruction layer (as well as in the few places where those remains were not found as a result of later activities, like agricultural terracing). Remains from this period were unearthed in practically every square in the section in which we dug deep enough, and in-situ vessels were discovered even down the slopes, signifying that the town was large. Remains were also uncovered in area C, toward the northernmost edge of the mound. The Late Bronze age town was apparently large and dense, probably covering the entire mound.

The Late Bronze Age is relatively well-documented in the Egyptian sources, especially in the el Amarna letters, which provide a wealth of information on the situation in Canaan. Combining this information with the results of the excavations, it is commonly assumed that Tel ‘Eton was a field-town on the border between Lachish and Hebron, two city-states that dominated the region, but we cannot rule out the possibility that during at least part of this era Tel ‘Eton maintained a semi-independent status. The finds (e.g., the petrographic analysis of the pottery) indicate that the site interacted almost solely with sites in the southern Shephelah, like Tel Halif and Lachish, and not with the Highlands, and unequivocally attest that it was part of the settlement system of the Shephelah at this time.

The evidence regarding the end of the Late Bronze Age town hints that it was destroyed, probably in the first half of the 12th century BCE. This was part of a wider wave of destruction throughout the region (see more below). The causes of the destruction are not clear. Various suggestions were raised regarding the identity of the responsible party, including the Israelites, the Philistines and the Egyptians.

Tel ‘Eton in the Iron Age: between Israelites and Philistines

Remains from the Iron Age I (roughly 12th-11th centuries BCE) were unearthed, in some areas, on top of the late Late Bronze Age level. Those remains, however, were unearthed only in a limited area, and while this limits our ability to reconstruct life at this period, the fact that Iron I remains were not uncovered above these of the Late Bronze Age on the western slope of Area B, nor in northern square of Area C (a few out of context Iron I sherds were uncovered in other squares in this Area), suggests that the settlement shrank in size and was smaller than the Late Bronze Age Town. The ceramic assemblage, however, exhibits clear continuities with Late Bronze Age forms in the region, but also includes some bichrome Philistine pottery, which suggests some connection with the coastal plain during the second part of this era.

The Iron I was a formative period in the Land of Israel, with the Philistines settling and forming in the southern coastal plain to the west, and the Israelites crystallizing on the highlands to the east. The Shephelah, located in-between those regions, was only sparsely settled at the time and most sites did not recover from the above-mentioned destructions. Unlike the situation in most sites, settlement at Tel ‘Eton was resumed after the destruction, and the site was part of a small group of settlements that existed at the time in the trough valley. The petrographic analysis indicates that Tel ‘Eton had only limited interaction with its vicinity, and the site interacted mainly with the few remaining adjacent sites like Tell Beit Mirsim and Tel Halif. Various lines of evidence, for example the rarity of pork and some aspects of the ceramic assemblage, suggest that the inhabitants maintained clear boundaries with both the Philistines of the coastal plain and the Israelites of the highlands. Tel ‘Eton was apparently part of a small Canaanite enclave that survived the turmoil that accompanied the transition to the Iron I in the region.

Things changed, however, during the Iron Age II (ca. 10th– 6th centuries BCE). The evidence suggests that the settlement expanded significantly during the early part of the Iron II (Iron Age IIA, ca. 10th– 9th centuries BCE), and was fortified. The Iron II is, historically, the period of the monarchy in Israel and Judah, and this era is well documented in the biblical narrative, although the historicity of many elements are debated. The 10th century is, roughly, the time of Israel’s United Monarchy as depicted in the Bible (the time of David and Solomon). According to the Bible the kingdom was split in the late 10th century, and subsequently the dominant polity in the region in which Tel ‘Eton is located was the kingdom of Judah. The changes in the character of Tel ‘Eton and its growth and fortification should most probably be therefore viewed in relation to the highland kingdom. Notably, similar changes in the character of settlement were observed also in other sites in the Canaanite enclave, e.g., Tell Beit Mirsim and Tel Beth-Shemesh, and it appears that all those sites were now incorporated into the kingdom of Israel/Judah. This is further supported by the establishment of many new settlements in the Shephelah during this phase of the Iron Age – apparently by Israelites from the highlands. It is likely that the process started at the time of the United Monarchy, but this is debated by some scholars, opting for a later date for the processes of highland expansion.

Most of the remains in the excavations and in the survey are from the Iron Age IIB (8th century BCE), and remains were uncovered practically everywhere. Among the finds one should mention parts of a number of dwellings in Area A, including what we call the governor’s residency. This is a large long house (Figure 4), built following the four room plan which is typical of this era, and whose ground floor covered some 240 sq.m. The location of the structure at the highest point on the mound, with a good control over wide areas on the mound and below it, the building’s size and quality of construction, as well as the finds unearthed in it, led us to interpret it as the governor’s residency. The structure was excavated, almost in its entirety, and was composed of a large courtyard with rooms on three sides. The building was nicely executed, including ashlar stones in the corners and openings. Hundreds of artifacts were unearthed within the debris, including a wide range of pottery vessels, loom weights, many metal objects, botanical remains, as well as many arrowheads—evidence of the battle which accompanied the conquest of the site by the Assyrians. It is noteworthy to mention a small collection of bullae/sealings (Figure 5) that were unearthed within the building, indicating its significance.

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etonfig4Fig. 4: A composite aerial photograph of Area A (after the 2012 season), showing the Iron Age IIB structure below the remains of the Persian period fort (mainly on the left) (composite photograph; photographs by Sky View)

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etonfig5Fig. 5: A bulla, with an inscription (Photographed by Zev Radovan)

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An additional residential neighborhood was discovered in the upper part of area B, where parts of some five structures were unearthed, along with many finds including dozens of artifacts. Segments of additional buildings were exposed also in the lower part of Area B. Parts of three buildings, built parallel to the city wall, were uncovered in Area D (Figure 6), and damaged remains were also uncovered in Area C.

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etonfig6Fig. 6: A composite photograph of the fortifications and the adjacent buildings (Area D) (Photographs by Sky View)

Iron Age II fortifications were discovered in three areas. In Area D, a massive 4 m. wall was unearthed (Figure 6), and formidable walls were exposed also in Areas B and C (Figure 7).

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etonfig7Fig. 7: The fortifications in Area C (photographed by Sky View/Griffin Aerial Imaging)

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A number of factors suggest that Tel ‘Eton had a central role within the Judahite settlement system and administration: its relatively large size, the relatively high percentage of non-local pottery (compared with other sites), the finding of the only 8th century collection of bullae and seal impression discovered in Judah, and perhaps even the unique characteristics of the governor’s residency. It appears that Tel ‘Eton’s location in the trough valley, nearer to the highlands, allowed it to be a bridge through which Judah administrated the Shephelah.

The 8th century central settlement that existed at Tel ‘Eton was violently destroyed toward the end of the century, most likely by the army of the Assyrian king – Sennacherib in 701 BCE  (Figures 8, 9) – a campaign which is well known in both the Bible and the Assyrian sources. Although the kingdom was not annexed by the Assyrians, and Jerusalem was spared, the sources are very clear that the Shephelah was devastated, and the area was subsequently transferred to Philistine hands. The massive destruction layer unearthed at Tel ‘Eton nicely demonstrate this devastation. Furthermore, the city was not rebuilt after the destruction, and in this it shared the fate of the entire regions. Limited evidence suggests that there was a short-lived attempt at reoccupation, but this squatting left only limited remains.

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etonfig8Fig. 8: The Assyrian destruction layer: room 101D (Area A)

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etonfig9Fig. 9: Photograph of part of the ceramic assemblage from the destruction layer (after the fifth season)

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Later Occupations

Tel ‘Eton remained unsettled for about 300 years, until settlement was resumed in the 4th century BCE, i.e., the late Persian period. The finds include a fort at the top of the mound (Area A), and village that was built around it. Although settlement was much more limited than that of the Iron Age II, it still covered large parts of the site.

On the basis of the pottery and a few carbon 14 dates, as well as a few ostraca (dated paleographically) we date this settlement mainly to the 4th century BCE, probably extending into the 3rd century BCE. At this time the region was part of the province of Idumaea, and it appears that Tel ‘Eton was a central site in this region. This was the last settlement at Tel ‘Eton, and following the abandonment of the site at some point in the 3rd century BCE (the early Hellenistic period), it was never resettled.

The findings in the topsoil also include a few later sherds, but those do not seem to represent a real settlement. It appears that during the Byzantine period much of the site was used for agriculture, and the evidence suggest that much of the current form of the mound is a result of agricultural terracing activity conducted at the time. The people who built the terraces changed the shape of the site, moving earth around to create their desired pattern. A few nearby hills were settled in the Roman-Byzantine period, but the site probably served only for agricultural purposes—most of it was probably tilled, while soil from the mound was also taken for fertilizing the nearby fields.

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Illustrations

Unless otherwise noted, all rights reserved to the Tel ‘Eton Archaeological Expedition

Tel ‘Eton: Partial Bibliography

Ayalon, E. 1985 Trial Excavation of Two Iron Age Strata at Tel ‘Eton, Tel Aviv 12: 54-62.

Edelstein, G., Ussishkin, D., Dothan, T., and Tzaferis, V. 1971 The Necropolis of Tell ‘Aitun, Qadmoniot 15:86-90 (Hebrew).

Faust, A. 2011 Tel ‘Eton Excavations (2006-2009): A Preliminary Report, PEQ 143:198-224.

Faust, A., and Katz, H. 2011 Philistines, Israelites and Canaanites in the Southern Trough Valley during the Iron Age I, Egypt and the Levant 21: 231-247.

Faust, A., and Katz, H. in press, Tel ‘Eton Cemetery: An Introduction, Hebrew Bible and Ancient Israel.

Faust, A., Katz, H., Ben-Shlomo, D., Sapir, Y., and Eyall, P., 2014, Tel ‘Eton/Tell ‘Etun and its Interregional Contacts from the Late Bronze Age to the Persian-Hellenistic Period: Between Highlands and Lowlands, ZDPV 130: 43-76.

Katz, H., and Faust, A. 2012 The Assyrian Destruction Layer at Tel ‘Eton, IEJ 62: 22-53.

 



[1] The excavations were directed by Avraham Faust, and the permanent members of the expedition are Haya Katz (associate director and ceramic analysis), Ortal Chalaf (supervising Area D), Pirchia Eyal (supervising Area C), Aharon Greener (supervising Area A), Oria Amiahi (supervising Area B), Yair Sapir (surveying and GIS analysis), Michal Marmelshtein (registrar), Tehila Sadiel, Ram Bouchnik and Guy Bar Oz (Bone analysis), Zev Farber (assisting in supervising Area A).  Restoration was done by Dina Castel and Shimrit Salem and Yafit Wiener, pottery drawing by Yulia Rodman and conservation by Yishaiau Ben-Yaakov. Plans were drawn by Yair Sapir, Yonatan Shemla, Ortal Calaf and Michal Marmelshtein. Epigraphic finds were analyzed by Esti Eshel. The archeobotanical analysis is carried out by Ehud Weiss, with the assistance of Anat Hartman, Yael Mahler-Slaski, and Chen Auman. Remote sensing was conducted by Shani Libi. Metal objects are analyzed by Kfir Arbiv, and construction techniques are studied by Assaf Avraham, Oren Vilany and Micheel Tsesarsky. Geomorphology is studied by Oren Ackerman, and formation processes are studied by Yair Sapir. Soil is studied by Sara Pariente. Petrography was done by David Ben Shlomo. The excavations were carried out with the help of students from Bar-Ilan University, Wheaton College, Franklin and Marshall College, and the Open University of Israel, and volunteers.  The expedition was greatly assisted by the Lachish Regional Council. We would especially like to thank Mr. Danni Moravia, the mayor; Mr. Meir Dahan, the mayor’s assistant; Yaron Meshulam, the council’s security officer; and Mr. Avi Cohen, the director of the transportation department. This help, along with the assistance we received from the people living in the region (and especially those in Moshav Shekef, notably Gadi Eilon and Eitan Rosenblat), was invaluable and aided the expedition in achieving its goals.  Different aspects of the research were supported by various grants, including the Israel Science Foundation (Tel ‘Eton and Judah’s Southern Trough Valley: a Bridge or a Barrier; The Birth, Life and Death of a Four Room House at Tel ‘Eton), the Jewish National Fund (Archaeological Sites and the “Open” Landscape – the Landscape around Tel ‘Eton as a Test-Case), and the Open University of Israel (The Iron Age IIa Tomb from the vicinity of Tel ‘Eton; Death at Tel ‘Eton: Final publication of four tombs in the vicinity of Tel ‘Eton; The ceramic sequence at Tel ‘Eton and other trough valley sites and its implications for understanding the settlement history in the region during the third and second millennia BCE). 

Tel Burna: An Ancient Judean Stronghold

Dr. Itzhaq Shai is an assistant professor at Ariel University and the head of the Institute of Archaeology at Ariel Univeirsty. He has served as the director of the project since its beginning (the 2009-2012 seasons as co-director with Dr. Joe Uziel). He has extensive experience in field archaeology of different periods. He worked for more than a decade at the Tell es-safi/Gath project and served as director of a number of other excavations. Dr. Shai finished his PhD at Bar Ilan University (under the advising of Prof. Aren Maeir) and was a post-fellow at the Harvard University and a junior research fellow at the Institute for Advanced Studies at the Hebrew University.

His published articles deal with the Early Bronze Age in the southern Levant, Philistine material culture, place names and their importance in ethnic identification, the status of Jerusalem in the Iron Age and the political structure of Philistia, the Late Bronze Age remains at Tell es-Saf/Gath, and various publications on the results of the Tel Burna Archaeological Project.

Tel Burna is located in the heart of one of Israel’s most intensively researched regions, yet the site is one of a few multi-period settlements that has remained unexcavated until the current project commenced. Burna is located in the Judean Shephelah, along the northern banks of Wadi Guvrin (Figure 1).  Sites in its immediate vicinity include Lachish, Maresha, Tel Goded, Tel Zayit, with Tell es-Safi/Gath and Azekah also in close proximity. This region represents a rift between the southern Coastal Plain in the west and the Highlands toward the East. A wide range of evidence, including Egyptian, Assyrian and Babylonian texts, biblical passages, and epigraphic and material cultural finds, attests to the importance of this region as a borderland in the Bronze (3300 – 1200 BCE) and particularly in the Iron Age (1200 – 500 BCE), when Judahites and Philistines settled on opposite sides of the border.

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burnaFigure1Figure 1: Location of Burna in relation to other archaeological sites in its vicinity.

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Several surveys have been conducted in the region, including Aharoni and Amiran’s survey of Shephelah mounds in the 1950s, Peterson’s examination of the ‘Levitical’ cities in the 1970s, Dagan’s survey of the Shephelah and Koh’s survey of the tell approximately ten years ago. However, the site had never been excavated until the summer of 2009, when we began a long-term archaeological project on the site.

The Project’s Goals

One of the primary research questions that the project aims to address is the role of borders in the southern Levant of the Bronze and Iron Ages. Therefore we have determined to examine the relationship of Tel Burna with its surroundings on both sides of the border. This will reflect the geographical border between highlands and lowlands, which affected the culture of these two regions in all periods. Several questions on this topic will be addressed, include the following: How did the border move in different periods? How were sites along the border affected by this movement? How did the material culture at sites on the border differ from those inland, due to the proximity to the other nearby entity? Finally, what can we learn from the border sites about Philistine-Judean relations in different periods?

The second research goal relates to economic systems. A cultural frontier is a contact zone between cultures, serving as a catalyst for socioeconomic processes. While Judah played a smaller role in the greater economic and geopolitical system of the Iron Age southern Levant, it is still possible to discern some activity and influence in Judah, particularly near its western border. Philistia however was more active in global economic and political trends. The excavations at Tel Burna will stress how the border was affected by different economic and political trends in the region. For example, how did Philistia’s involvement in the world markets from the Iron Age II (1000 – 800 BCE) onward affect Judahite sites along the border? How did the Assyrian Empire’s presence affect the border – did it open up the border or was Judah still involved in more of a localized economy? How did the economic border function during the Iron Age I (1200 – 1000 BCE)? 

The third goal is to further develop survey methodology and tools, in order to improve their quality and reliability as an archaeological technique and help in influencing attitudes towards field work in this respect in the Southern Levant.

Is Tel Burna Biblical Libnah?

The identification of the site has been debated for more than a century. There are scholars who have claimed that Tel Burna is biblical Libnah, which was mentioned several times in the Bible. This identification was based mainly on geographical and historical arguments. For example, according to the biblical tradition it was a Canaanite town that was conquered by Joshua, and also a city that was chosen as one of the Levitical cities. In 2 Kgs. 8:22 the city of Libnah was involved in the rebellion against Jehoram the king of Judah (in 9th century BCE) and later, a woman from Libnah married King Josiah in the 7th century BCE. To date, there are other candidates for the location of ancient Libnah, including nearby Tel Zayit. However, the exposed archaeological remains at Tel Burna support this identification, with both the geographical, survey and excavation data fitting well with what we know and expect from a border town in the Iron Age. Regardless of the identification of the site, it is clear that Tel Burna lies along the border between Judah and the Philistines, and was a prominent site during the Iron Age, making it a prime target for studying ancient borders.

The Survey

As mentioned above, one of our main goals was to develop a survey methodology to use in a multi-period site. The first step of the project was taken in 2009 with a surface survey. We have continued to reach this goal through test-pit excavations and the documentation of features visible on the surface, such as agricultural installations, caves and other man-made features. The results of these two methods have already been published in a scientific manner (Uziel and Shai 2011; Shai and Uziel 2014). Below is a concise presentation of the main conclusions of both methods.

The Surface Survey

The distribution of the sherds and other artifacts lead us to estimate that the settlement on the site covered 10 hectares. The significant periods of settlement were in the Early Bronze Age III (2700 – 2200 BCE), Middle Bronze Age IIB (1850 – 1750 BCE), Late Bronze Age II (1400 – 1200 BCE), and Iron Age I and II (1200 – 800 BCE) (Figure 2). One should note that only 9% of the identified sherds collected in the survey post-date the Iron Age. This indicates that the site was poorly settled during those periods.

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burnaFigure2Figure 2

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The Test Pit Survey

The circular test pits, with a diameter of 1m, were distributed according to the survey fields and excavated to a depth of 30 cm.  The contents of all of the test pits were fully sifted, in order to remove any bias based on preference of pottery types. As the test pits only covered the upper tell and surrounding slopes and not the entire area covered by the surface survey, it is still too early to determine the site size according to the dispersal of artifacts in the test pits. However, a few points can be made regarding the area covered. First, the early periods (EBIII, MBII) detected in the survey do not appear whatsoever in the test pits other than stray sherds. Even in fields that yielded many EBIII/MBII sherds on the surface, such pottery was not found in the test pits. Second, the two dominant periods represented are the Late Bronze Age and Iron Age II, similar to the surface survey. This indicates the intensive settlement on the site during the LB and Iron Age II as also noted in the surface survey. Finally, as opposed to the surface survey, where Byzantine sherds were scattered in small amounts in different areas of the tell, the test pits yielded Byzantine pottery almost exclusively from the eastern slopes, where the lines of walls of a large building can be seen on the surface. It seems that there is a slightly closer affinity between the test pit results and the excavations as they remove the later periods, which are not actually represented on the summit. Earlier periods which are likely buried beneath the Iron Age remains, were not present in the test pits, yet were present on the surface.

The Excavations

To date, three areas have been excavated (Figure 3). Area A2 is located on the center of the summit of the tell, where a fortification system has created a flat, almost square area of 70 by 70 meters. The second area (A1) was placed along the eastern slopes of the summit, in order to create a section along the upper tell. The third is Area B, which was placed in the terrace just below the summit, to the west of the fortifications. Thus far, the two main periods that were exposed are the Late Bronze Age (in Area B) and the Iron Age II (in Areas A1 and A2).

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burnaFigure3Figure 3: The excavated areas

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The Late Bronze Age Remains

A portion of a large 13th century BCE public building was uncovered only a few centimeters below the surface in Area B. Although the plan of the building is still unclear, the size of the building and the construction technique clearly indicates that it was not a common domestic building. The bedrock in the large courtyard (16×16 m) is very high and was used as a surface in several places, while in other parts of the area, there are signs of intentionally filling in of gaps in the bedrock. Three Cypriot votive vessels were placed on a flattened stone, which was located where the bedrock had a natural hump (Figure 4). The finds include a scarab with dozens of beads, a cylinder seal, a rich ceramic assemblage and many animal bones. Some of the pottery vessels may reflect the activity that took place in this courtyard. These are comprised of (Figure 5) goblets and chalices, which are often associated with feasting activity, Cypriot zoomorphic vessels (for liquid libation?), local and imported  (Cypriot and Mycenaean) figurines and two fragments of different ceramic masks. One can also note two large (ca. 200 liters volume!) imported Cypriot pithoi. All in all, the building size and the effort that was undertaken in order to build it alongside the presence of unique vessels indicate that this was a 13th century public building where ritual activity took place within its courtyard. Since we have not yet finished the excavation of the building or the analysis of the finds, it is too early to determine the exact purpose of the building.

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burnaFigure4Figure 4: Aerial view of Area B

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burnaFigure5Figure 5: Cypriot votive vessels in situ

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The Iron Age Remains

While there is evidence of Iron Age I settlement at the site from the survey, we have yet to reach these levels in the excavations. However, the two areas on the summit and its eastern slope reveal a series of strata from the ninth century BCE to the Persian period.

The summit is defined by the distinct remains of fortification walls. The excavations thus far have revealed a segment of the fortification walls in the NE corner of the summit that was partially exposed along the perimeter of the upper tell. The fortifications of Tel Burna were in use during the ninth and eighth centuries BCE. The Iron Age II wall reflects the role of this site during this period. The location of Tel Burna—midway between Gath, the dominant Philistine city in the Iron Age IIA, and Lachish, the main Judahite city, monitoring the road along Nahal Guvrin, with visibility all the way to the coastal plain — would account for the investment of the central authority of Judah in establishing such a walled city so close to the city of Lachish.

In the center of the summit (Area A2) a portion of a typical four-room house was uncovered, which was destroyed at the end of the eighth century BCE, as indicated by the smashed vessels found on its floors (Fig. 6). It is tempting to correlate this destruction with Sennacherib’s campaign (701 BCE), although it is too early to determine if this is a local destruction or something more elaborate.

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burnaFigure8Figure 6: Excavated portion of a typical four-room house structure

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Among the pottery finds there are stamped jar handles (Figure 7) several of the LMLK type and one with a private or official seal bearing the names לעזר/חגי (to Ezer son of Haggi).

This building was only partially exposed but a few points can already be highlighted:

1. Combining the fact that it was located inside the fortified area with the building size, technique and the  discovery of a LMLK stamped handle suggests that this was a public or an elite building.

2. The pottery assemblage is typical of the end of 8th century BCE and is very similar to Lachish Level III.

3. Several pillar figurines were discovered in this building. As noted in the past (Kletter 1995), this figurine is typical to Judah.

4. To date, we have yet to uncover evidence for a widespread destruction as expected for eighth century BCE Shephelah sites, save for one portion of the four room house. Such a destruction is further expected if the site is in fact Libnah, which according to the biblical text was destroyed during the Assyrian military campaign.

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burnaFigure9Figure 7: Stamped jar handles

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The Iron Age IIC (7th century BCE) remains uncovered at Tel Burna consist of a series of silos and related architectural elements (Figure 8).  Six such silos, all lined with stone, cut into the earlier remains, sometimes even reusing earlier features, and are spread over the entire summit.

The silos yielded archaeobotanical remains recovered through flotation of the sediments. Archaeobotanical analysis yielded 16 different crop taxa and 32 wild plant taxa, among them one can mention wheat, barley and figs. The presence of Rosette stamped handles indicates the site was affiliated and under control of Judah in this period as well. This point is crucial in light of the identification of the site with biblical Libnah, as according to the bible, Josiah’s wife (the king of Judah in the second half of the 7th century BCE) was from Libnah.

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burnaFigure10Figure 8: The casemate fortifications, partially cut by one of the 7th century BCE silos

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Conclusions and Future Plans

Tel Burna was settled from the 3rd millennium BCE throughout the mid-1st millennium BCE.  The settlement at the site reached its pick in two periods – the Late Bronze Age and the Iron Age II. The excavations thus far have revealed a public building well dated to the 13th century BCE (Late Bronze Age) where ritual activity took place. The Iron Age remains attested to the importance of the settlement at the site and that it was a fortified Judahite border site facing the Philistines in the west.

In the next excavation seasons we are planning to expand the excavated area in order to complete our view of the LB public building, the Iron Age fortification system and the Iron Age administration. We also plan to excavate several agricultural installations, in collaboration with several scholars in various specialization fields (e.g. soil, geoarchaeology, archaeo-botany, aDNA etc.) in order to gain a better understanding on the economic life of the inhabitants of the site. In addition, an in-depth study accompanied by an excavation of Late Bronze Age burial caves will allow us to investigate more about the people who lived in Tel Burna and their customs, both in life and in afterlife.

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The Legionary Base of the Roman Sixth Ferrata Legion at Legio, Israel

Yotam Tepper is a researcher and archaeologist with the Israel Antiquities Authority (IAA), and co-director of excavations at the legionary base at Legio (2013). His PhD dissertation at Tel Aviv University (2015) is devoted to the region of Legio in the Roman Period, with emphasis on the ethno-cultural and religious identities of different groups at the site and the daily lives of both civilians and soldiers. He has directed numerous excavations in Israel, including surveys in the Legio-Megiddo region over the last 15 years. As part of this work, he conducted excavations at Kibbutz Megiddo and the nearby site at Enot [YT19] Nisanit, and his largest such project was a four-year extensive excavation at the Megiddo Prison compound, in which a remarkable Christian Prayer Hall from the 3rd century CE was discovered

Matthew J. Adams is the Dorot Director of the W. F. Albright Institute for Archaeological Research and director of the JVRP. Adams received his PhD in History from the Pennsylvania State University in 2007, specializing in Egyptology and Near Eastern Archaeology. He has directed excavations at several sites in Egypt and Israel. His primary research focus is on the development of urban communities in the third millennium in Egypt and Levant. In addition to directing the JVRP, he is a member of the Penn State excavations at Mendes, Egypt and the Tel Aviv University Megiddo Expedition. He is also president of the non-profit organization American Archaeology Abroad.

Jonathan David is professor of Classics at Gettysburg College, assistant director of the JVRP, and co-director of excavations at the legionary base at Legio (2013). He studies the history and archaeology of ancient Greece broadly, but his particular interests involve earliest historiography and the interconnections between the Graeco-Roman world and the Near East. He has been a regular member at the American School of Classical Studies at Athens, a Mellon Foundation research fellow, and a founding member of American Archaeology Abroad.

In the early First Century CE, Judaea became a province of Augustus’ expanding Roman Empire. By the late 60s, Jewish opposition to Roman administration had escalated to full-scale rebellion which resulted in the siege of Jerusalem and the destruction of its temple in 70 CE. Near the beginning of the Second Century CE, Legio VI Ferrata, the “Iron Legion”, was deployed to Judaea, joining Legio X Fretensis, which had been garrisoned in Jerusalem after the destruction of the temple. With the addition of a second legion, Judaea was incorporated into the province of Syria-Palaestina and upgraded to a proconsular province and new administrative policies were put in place to secure Rome’s hold on the region. The Sixth Legion remained in Palestine for nearly two centuries before being transferred to a new base in Udruh (Jordan), likely as a result of the extensive administrative and military reforms of the emperor Diocletian (284-305 CE).

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Print Map of Southern Levant

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The exact location of the new legionary base (castra) of this legion, has been a matter of some debate by historians, but it is agreed that it was somewhere on the western edge of the Jezreel Valley in modern Israel near ancient Bronze and Iron Age Tel Megiddo[MJA1]  (a UNESCO world heritage site[MJA2] ). Contemporary Latin and Greek sources place it in the vicinity of the Jewish village of Caparcotani/Kaperkotnei (Kefar ‘Othnay) and on the imperial road leading from the provincial capital of Caesarea Maritima on the coast to Scythopolis (Beth Shean) in the Jordan Valley. From this important location, the base of the Ferrata was well situated to control international imperial roads, as its predecessor Megiddo had done for nearly 3000 years. It also gave the legion direct access to the Galilee and inland valleys of northern Palestine – important centers of the local Jewish population at that time.

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Basic RGBThe imperial road (in red) from Caesarea to Scythopolis through Caparcotani.

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The Roman-era historian Eusebius of Caesarea (260-340 CE) refers to a place called Legeon which he uses as a benchmark to describe the locations of various important Old and New Testament sites in the region. While a Roman-Byzantine polis called Maximianopolis was founded at the site in the 4th Century, the older name survived in the name of the Islamic to Ottoman period village and caravanserai of el-Lajjun. These names preserve the Latin, Legio, providing evidence for the location of the nearby legionary base. Thus, historical sources from the Roman and Byzantine periods point to three different settlements existing at Legio: the Jewish village of Kefar ‘Othnay (Caparcotna), a Roman legionary base (Legio), and a Byzantine polis of the 4th to 7th centuries CE (Maximianopolis).

While almost nothing is visible today, in the early 20th century, when Gottlieb Schumacher surveyed Megiddo and its environs, some remains of these once-great settlements were obvious on the surface. South of Tell Megiddo, Schumacher observed a Roman theater nestled in the foothills. To the east and south of the theater were scattered architectural ruins with Roman pottery, among which he found a brick or roof-tile stamped with “LEGVIF,” i.e. Legio VI Ferrata. In his day, the visible Roman-Ottoman ruins stretched far to the south including the hills of el-Manach and Daher ed-Dar, as far as the Wadi el-Lajjun, the ancient Nahal Qeni, through which the road to Caesarea and the coast passed the Manasseh hills. All told, Schumacher observed contiguous archaeological remains across more than 700 acres, representing the settlement history of the Megiddo/Legio area from ca. 3500 BCE to 1900 CE.

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legiofig4Schumacher’s Survey Map (G. Schumacher, Tell el-Mutesellim [Leipzig, 1908] Pl. I).

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After Schumacher, little work was carried out at Legio until the 1990s. The most intensive survey of this area was conducted by Yotam Tepper (co-author here), who attempted to identify the exact locations of the legionary base, the village, and the polis. As part of his PhD research at Tel Aviv University, Tepper delineated discrete areas of Roman material culture remains, including coins and roof-tiles stamped with the name of the Sixth Legion, concentrated in and around the large agricultural field known as el-Manach.

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Legio_and_environs_orthophoto copyMap of the Megiddo/Legio Environs

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While working nearby on behalf of the Israel Antiquities Authority in 2003-2005, Tepper also uncovered the now-famous 3rd– century Christian prayer hall [MJA4] [MJA5] at the Megiddo Prison just south of el-Manach, the mosaics of which bore dedicatory inscriptions to “God Jesus Christ,” including one sponsored by a centurion named Gaianus.[1] This find and others in the area of the prison strongly suggest that this area, just south of the base, was the location of Kefar ‘Othnay, the Jewish-Samaritan (and apparently Christian) village. Overall, Tepper concluded that there was compelling evidence pointing to the exact location of the castra of the Sixth Legion nearby in the field of el-Manach.[2]

In 2010 Tepper teamed up with the Jezreel Valley Regional Project[MJA6]  (JVRP)[3] to begin archaeological investigations at el-Manach in search of architectural remains. In collaboration with Jessie Pincus and Tim de Smet (Texas A&M University), the JVRP conducted a Ground Penetrating Radar and Electromagnetic survey of this area. These technologies allowed the team to see beneath the surface of the fields and provided additional clues for the presence of significant architecture – in particular, the radar and electromagnetic anomalies suggested something long, linear, and wall-like along the northern depression.[4]

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legiofig7Working on the Ground Penetrating Radar study at el-Manach, looking northwards toward Tell Megiddo.

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Additionally, aerial photographs, satellite imagery, and LiDAR data (airborne topographical laser scanning) acquired by the JVRP hinted at a large rectangular structure in the field just beneath the surface, at least 275m by 275m, bounded on the north and south by long depressions. The size and shape of the structure, and the surrounding depressions were consistent with Roman military architecture of the period.

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legiofig8Shaded relief map of el-Manach based on 1-m resolution lidar data (data and imaging courtesy of the Jezreel Valley Regional Project). The GPR/EM survey grid appears in solid black lines. Tepper’s (2007) hypothesized minimum size location of the camp enclosure in long dashed white lines.

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On the basis of Tepper’s archeological, historical, and geographical work, in combination with the remote sensing evidence, the JVRP spent two weeks during the summer of 2013 [MJA7] excavating a small part of the legionary base of Legio VI Ferrata.[5] Over the course of only ten excavation days, with the assistance of American and European students working side-by-side with members of local youth and community service groups[MJA8], the team exposed a north-south test trench of 125 m by 5 m that revealed clear evidence of this base [MJA9] and the Sixth Legion’s presence in it.

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legiofig9Aerial photograph of el-Manach and 2013 excavation area. Looking southward toward the Megiddo Prison.

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D:\Users\Adam\JVRP13 Season13 Legio\CAD\Legio_Master_Plan_Planned 2013 excavation area at el-Manach.

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legiofig11Aerial photograph of the 2013 excavations. North is to the right.

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At the north end of this line, it became evident that the depressions seen in aerial photography were in fact part of a Roman legionary base’s typical defensive trenching earthworks, the fosse. Next to this 2m-deep ditch was the foundation of a great wall, nearly 6m wide, evidently the main circumvallation rampart of the base. In the remaining 100 m of the trench, extended within this outer wall, the team exposed a series of rooms likely belonging to one of the barracks of the camp. Much of the upper architectural remains had long been stripped away, but within the rooms were hundreds of ceramic roof tiles, some with the legion’s mark. Finds indicating the presence of the imperial army included a wide variety of local and foreign coins of the 2nd and 3rd centuries, fragments of scale armor, ceramic water pipes, and lead ingots – the Romans are known to have brought increased lead production to the eastern provinces. A surprise find on the last day of excavations was a stone table leg sculpted with the three-dimensional visage of a panther. Near the southern extent of the excavation, the putative barracks were bounded by a wide street carved in bedrock and flanked by drainage channels, probably one of the important roads connecting the barracks to the main street of the camp.

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Fig 12The 6 m wide base of the northern enclosure wall of the base. Squares to the right (north) of the wall descend into the fosse.

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legiofig13A volunteer excavates collapsed roof tiles from one of the barracks rooms.

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legiotileRoof tile stamped with LEG V[IFERR]

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legiofig15Roman armor scales found in the barracks

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legiofig16Volunteers removing ceramic water supply pipes

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legiofig17Three hemispherical lead ingots in situ

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legiofig18aSculpted limestone table leg with a feline head.

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The data gathered so far in survey, research, and excavations shows a complex and unexpected settlement scenario at Legio. At its heart is a large legionary base of the Sixth Legion, perhaps accommodating the full legion of nearly 5000 soldiers from all over the empire. Nearby would have been a vicus, an ad hoc civilian settlement providing entertainment, commercial support, and other services for the men of the legion. At Kefar ‘Othnay, just south of the base, was a Jewish-Samaritan village in which there is evidence for an early Christian gathering place, dedicated in part by a Roman centurion.

The excavation of a Roman legionary base with clear ties to major political and cultural events in the formative years of Rabbinic Judaism and Christianity is exciting in itself, but Legio also provides an incredible new window on the Roman military occupation of the eastern provinces. No military headquarters of this type for this particular period have yet been excavated in the entire Eastern Empire. Not only will continued excavations at Legio reveal this important settlement in its own right, but its revelation may also be used as a proxy for the study of the Roman military’s occupation at Jerusalem and other parts of the empire before Diocletian’s reforms.

The JVRP’s 2013 excavation season, at both Legio and the nearby Bronze Age site of Tel Megiddo East[MJA10], has also served as a proving ground for a variety of new technologies that the team is developing for use in excavation.[6] These include photogrammetry[MJA11] for digitally mapping and planning, Structure from Motion for 3D imaging, Reflectance Transformation Imaging (RTI) for digital epigraphy, field X-Ray Florescence (XRF) studies[MJA12] for determining chemical composition of artifacts and sediments, and a highly anticipated archaeological and historical database system[MJA13], called Codifi, developed in cooperation with the Center for Digital Archaeology[MJA14]  (CoDA) and Codifi, Inc.[MJA15]  The technological star of our 2015 season promises to be our custom-built Unmanned Aerial Vehicle (UAV) for aerial imagery, remote sensing, and landscape modeling.

In June of 2015, the JVRP will return to Legio to continue exploration of the castra. The Legio excavation also serves as an archaeological field school, training as many as 50 undergraduate and graduate students annually, but participating in an archaeological dig is not just for college students. Through the JVRP’s volunteer program, numerous non-professionals participate in discovery every year, including local community groups, American and European retirees, and just about anyone else looking for a completely different kind of summer.

This year the volunteer program will include a 5-day preseason tour to sites in northern Israel (6-11 June 2015), taking participants off the beaten path, guided by archaeologists and historians specializing in these areas. The 4-week excavation will take place from 13 June to 10 July. All are welcome to join us[MJA16], or to follow our progress throughout the season on facebook and our website blog, to be a part of the revelation of the Roman army in Israel.

Speaking of revelation, the historical site of Legio is identified with biblical Har Megiddo, “the hill of Megiddo”, (the origin of the term Armageddon) the gathering place for the armies before the Last Battle in the New Testament (Rev. 16:16). What more apt location to initiate a campaign of liberation and salvation than from the site of the Sixth Legion? The JVRP’s project here is only in its opening stages, but this gathering point for the historical Roman army has already turned out to be quite an exciting place!

Find out more about the project and how to participate at the project website.

 


[1] Tepper Y. and Di Segni L. 2006. A Christian Prayer Hall of the 3rd Century CE at Kfar ‘Othnai (Legio). Excavations at the Megiddo Prison 2005. Israel Antiquities Authority; Jerusalem.

[2] Tepper Y. 2007. The Roman Legionary Camp at Legio, Israel: Results of an Archaeological Survey and Observations on the Roman Military Presence at the Site. In A.S. Lewin and P. Pellegrini (Eds.) The Late Roman Army in the Near East from Diocletian to the Arab Conquest (pp. 57-71). BAR International Series; Oxford.

[3] The Jezreel Valley Regional Project (JVRP) is a long-term, multi-disciplinary survey and excavation project investigating the history of human activity in the Jezreel Valley from the Paleolithic through the Ottoman period. It strives for a total history of the region using the tools and theoretical approaches of such disciplines as archaeology, anthropology, geography, history, ethnography, and the natural sciences, within an organizational framework provided by landscape archaeology. The project is directed by Matthew J. Adams (W.F. Albright Institute of Archaeological Research) with Jonathan David (Gettysburg College), Margaret Cohen (Penn State University), and Robert Homsher (Harvard University) as Assistant Directors.

[4] J. Pincus, T. DeSmet, Y. Tepper, and M.J. Adams, “Ground Penetrating Radar and Electromagnetic Archaeogeophysical Investigations at the Roman Legionary Camp at Legio, Israel,” Archaeological Prospection 20.3 (2013) 1-13. http://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1002/arp.1455/abstract

[5] The Legio excavations operate under the auspices of the JVRP, American Archaeology Abroad, the W.F. Albright Institute of Archaeological Research, and the University of Hawai’i with the cooperation of the Tel Aviv University Megiddo Expedition. The 2013 excavations were directed by Yotam Tepper (Tel Aviv University), Jonathan David (Gettysburg College), and Matthew J. Adams (W.F. Albright Institute of Archaeological Research).

[6] A. Prins, M.J. Adams, M. Ashley, R.S. Homsher, “Digital Archaeological Fieldwork and the Jezreel Valley Regional Project, Israel,” Near Eastern Archaeology 77:3 (2014) 196-201.


 [MJA1]https://sites.google.com/site/megiddoexpedition/

 [MJA2]http://whc.unesco.org/en/list/

 [MJA3]

http://www.archaeologie-online.de/magazin/nachrichten/bauingenieur-auf-den-spuren-der-antike-16834/

 [MJA6]link to www.jezreelvalleyregionalproject.com

 [MJA15]MJA TO ELABORATE LIKE THE NEA ARTICLE WITH FIGS

 [MJA16]http://www.jezreelvalleyregionalproject.com/volunteer-2015.html

 [MJA20]http://www.aiar.org/

 [MJA21]www.americanarchaeologyabroad.org

A Field Report: Preclassic Xnoha

Dr. Alexander Parmington is an Archaeologist at the Wurundjeri Tribe and Land Council and a Research Associate (Hon.) in the Archaeology Program at La Trobe University in Melbourne, Australia. He has worked extensively in south-eastern Australia, in Mexico, Guatemala and Honduras and has contributed articles to several journals and organizations, including Mexicon, the Minesterio de Cultura y Deportes de Guatemala, the Instituto de Antropología e Historia de Guatemala, and the Foundation for the Advancement of Mesoamerican Studies. Alex has also recently authored a book entitled Space and Sculpture in the Classic Maya City (2011), published by Cambridge University Press.

This report presents the results of excavations undertaken in the patio area of ‘Building Group 78’ at Xno’ha by the Maya Research Program (MRP) in 2014. The site of Xno’ha is situated in northwestern Belize between the Bajo Alacranes and the Dumbbell Bajo (Guderjan 2007: 15) (see Figure 1). Characterised as a medium-sized Maya centre, comprising a large central plaza surrounded by an abundance of residential building groups, “the name [Xno’ha] was given to the site in reference to Xno’ha Creek which enters the Rio Azul/Hondo from Mexico just north of the site” (Guderjan 2013: 11).

Analysis of ceramics recovered from all excavated contexts suggests that the entire patio platform, fronting structures designated ’79’ and ’80’, was constructed during the Late Preclassic period (300 BC – 250 AD). In 2013 a Late Preclassic ceramic cache (comprising 9 Sierra Red vessels) was found while excavating the Group 78 patio. Follow-up excavations undertaken in 2014 identified a second component to Cache 13-03 configured in a cruciform pattern. The discovery of additional vessels in the vicinity of Cache 13-03 increased the minimum number of associated Preclassic vessels to 25. In addition to this finding, immediately south of Burial 13-01 (a tomb that was excavated the previous year) a second burial was discovered that contained a variety of ornamental grave goods including a Late Preclassic bird-effigy incensario. Representing what was probably the earliest period of the building group’s construction, a fragmented Late Preclassic incensario was also found close to bedrock, sealed below the thick plaster floor, in association with a remnant wall.

bluecreekmarkwolfFigure 1: Location of Xno’ha (upper center of picture) and Related Sites. Courtesy Mark Wolf (after Guderjan 2013).

 

Xno’ha Group 78 – General Description

Group 78 is described here as a patio group as defined by Guderjan, Lichtenstein and Hanratty (2003: 35). Patio groups usually comprise L-shaped configurations that generally face eastward and are positioned on a levelled hill where peripheral masonry structures define a central open space. Consistent with this description, Xno’ha Group 78 comprises an elevated and level open space that is bounded on its northern and western limits by remnant rectilinear range-type structures. Maya range structures are described as large, vaulted and multi-roomed and ordered so as to surround small plazas or patios (Kowalski 2003: 204).

panoramagroup78Figure 2: Building Group 78 Panorama Showing Structures 79 and 80 and Patio in the Foreground

xnohapatiopicA View of Excavated Remains of Patio Group 78.

Located approximately 200 metres due east of Structure 1, and the sites central plaza, Xno’ha Group 78 is oriented approximately 8° east of magnetic north and measures about 25 metres x 25 metres. Structure 79 is positioned to mark the western limits of the building group and Structure 80 defines its northern boundary. While the more precise dimensions (and orientation) of the buildings will only be ascertained following more extensive excavation, preliminary estimations of the mounds and structural features indicate that buildings measure between 15-17 metres in length (as gauged along the midline of the mounds) to the point where they intersect in the northwest corner of the group. The patio extends approximately 14 metres east-west and 19 metres north-south, as measured from the baseline of the building mounds to where the ground begins to slope away at the eastern and southern limits of the group. One datum point was recorded for Group 78 (with a handheld GPS) during the 2013 excavations – Alex 1: 1984915.49N, 0288124E-not corrected.

xnohafigure3

On the east side of the building group is a shallow rectangular depression in the patio platform, which measures 4 metres north-south and 5.4 metres east-west. It has yet to be determined what this surface depression is; whether it represents slumping of the building group’s patio or, alternatively, a remnant architectural feature. Initial clearing of vegetation in 2013 undertaken on the inclined ground on the eastern side of the group suggests that it may have once formed part of a terraced approach, functioning as the formal entrance to the group. However, this has yet to be verified archaeologically.

While no known archaeological excavations have occurred within Group 78 prior to 2013, some ground disturbance is evident on the eastern boundary of Structure 79. Oriented north-south, this disturbance measures approximately 2 metres by 3 metres and is visible in the form of backfilled area of ground. The presence of this disturbance suggests that some archaeological testing of the group may have occurred but may have not been previously reported. It is possible that it was undertaken as part of excavations carried out between 2002 and 2004 when many of the Xno’ha buildings were test excavated to determine their age and phases of construction.

Xno’ha – Summary of Previous Archaeological Investigations

The long-term goal of the archaeological inquiry at Xno’ha Group 78 is to build on previous work first undertaken by Jason Gonzales between 2002 and 2004 (Gonzales 2005a and 2005b); to construct a ‘domestic structure database’ through the excavation of elite household groups and compounds within the settlement zone. A key question driving the inquiry at Xno’ha is how did Maya elites create, develop and maintain their power structures (see Guderjan 2013: 1-15)? It has been long argued that “gradations within archaeological remains suggest that the distinction between the elites and the non-elite is more of a continuum than a well-defined division” (Sharer 1994: 490). Remnants of “monumental earthen constructions, elaborate human burials, diverse arrays of luxury goods, and other remains… [exist] as evidence… [of the] sociopolitical complexity [among the ancient Maya]” (Sharer 1989: 166). Importantly, Xno’ha’s location mid-way between Blue Creek and Nojol Nah permits MRP to examine the dynamics of ancient Maya elite interaction at the intra-site and regional level. The establishment of such a database would also provide a basis for a comparative study of behaviour between royal elites and between royal elites and non-royal elites and commoners.

Xno’ha Excavations 2002-2004

Xno’ha was first identified in 1990 and was subsequently surveyed, mapped, and partially excavated between 2002 and 2004. The primary goal of the 2002 survey and archaeological evaluations was to determine whether Xno’ha was an autonomous centre or a subsidiary of La Milpa (Gonzalez 2003; Knippe and Gonzalez 2003). La Milpa is the largest Maya centre in close proximity to Xno’ha and was likely to be the dominant regional power during the period of its political florescence through the Late Preclassic period (300BC – 250 AD) (Guderjan 2007: 16). In 2003, Jason Gonzalez undertook test excavations in the site’s main plaza and within the limits of a proposed ballcourt (see LaLonde 2003, Gonzalez and Knippe 2004, Gonzales 2005a and 2005b). Additionally, extensive test excavations were undertaken in and around the many residential buildings located at the site (see Gonzalez 2005).

While dating has yet to establish the precise period or periods of occupation within Group 78, preliminary assessment of excavated ceramics suggest that it functioned as an elite residential complex during the Late Preclassic and Classic periods.  Excavations undertaken at the site between 2002 and 2004 suggest that the site of Xno’ha was occupied from the Late Preclassic to the Terminal Classic period (300BC – 925AD). According to Gonzales (2005a: 147), analysis of ceramics obtained from construction fill contexts during the 2002, 2003 and 2004 investigations indicated that the first buildings were erected within the site core area during the Late Preclassic, with some lesser construction occurring during Late Preclassic period. Civic expansion at Xno’ha during the Early Classic period is suggested by the construction of the larger public building in the site’s core as well as some increased building in residential areas of the site; as well as landscape modifications both in the centre and the periphery of the site. Following an apparent drop in construction during the Middle to Late Classic period, there was a substantial increase in construction in the interior and on the margin of the site during the Late Terminal Classic period. All this construction, however, was restricted to the residential areas and in the form of general modifications to the landscape; no large public architecture was built during the Terminal Late Classic period (Gonzales 2005a: 147).  

The relationship that Xno’ha had with regional centres such as Rio Azul and La Milpa has yet to be established; including the impact such centres had on the cultural and occupational history of the site. Gonzales proposes that an objective of future research at the site should be to determine why there was a reduction in construction at Xno’ha during the Early and late Classic periods and why there was a substantial increase in building during the Terminal Classic period. Beyond this, it remains important to establish the reasons for the site’s abandonment at the end of the Terminal Classic Period, and how this movement fits within the greater regional history of north-western Belize (Gonzales 2005a: 147).

Xno’ha Excavations 2012

In 2012, excavations continued at Xno’ha, which focused on Structure 1; a gallery style building positioned on the eastern edge of Plaza A. Structure 1 measures approximately 62 meters north-south and 23 meters east-west and is oriented 18° east off magnetic north. The building stands 4.5 metres tall and has a large central staircase leading up from Plaza A at the front of the building; there is also a staircase leading up from Plaza B at the rear. During the 2012 excavations, the areas south of the structure’s centreline were targeted, allowing a general picture of this very large building to be ascertained within the limited time available (Guderjan and Preston 2012: 24).

Excavations in 2012 resulted in the removal of overburden along the midline of Structure 1 and the exposure of the southwest corner of the building. The gallery located at the top of the basal platform measures approximately four metres wide with walls 80cm thick. The interior of the structure consists of a single room that has seven doorways on the west side of the building; three of which were unearthed during the 2012 excavations. Digging on the eastern side of the gallery also revealed multiple doorways. Very few artefacts were recovered during these stripping operations (Guderjan and Preston 2012: 25)

During the 2012 field season, a two-metre wide trench was also placed along the midline of an alleged ballcourt; at the level of the proposed playing field. The purpose of the excavation was to obtain information regarding the period of its construction and to determine how long it may have been used. The investigations undertaken during the 2013 field season were insufficient to determine the function of this building group.

Xno’ha Excavations 2013

The Purported Ball Court at Xno’ha

In 2013, MRP undertook an archaeological assessment of Pitz Nah (i.e. MRP Operation 13:01), a building complex located within the larger Maya site of Xno’ha. The building group comprises a small plazuela bounded by two parallel buildings, in addition to a peripheralstructure positioned immediately west of Structure 16 (i.e. Structure 16A). The earliest archaeological assessment (undertaken in 2002) documented this group as a ballcourt (see Lalonde 2002, Gonzales 2003, Lohse et al 2004, and Guderjan 2013). The presence of Aguila Orange ceramics identified during excavations suggested that the group was constructed during the Early Classic period. Excavations undertaken in 2012 revealed a lower platform within the plazuela, pushing the date of the earliest phase of construction back to the Preclassic period (Guderjan and Preston, 2012).

In 2013, MRP expanded the previous year’s operations at this group in order to provide a more complete understanding of the function and temporal nature of the group. Archaeological assessment revealed substantially disturbed soils as well as discrepancies in architectural features reported by Lalonde (2002).

Clarification of the 2002 findings warranted a more thorough examination into the function of the group as well as a refinement of the temporal sequencing for Structures 15 and 16 and Platform 17. The findings from the 2013 excavation revealed that the structures displayed markedly different construction phases as well as substantial differences between the two main structures represented. More specifically, the structures did not display any continuity of design or architectonic symmetry, common among ball courts in Central America (Mead, Mastropietro and LeMasters 2013: 51-52).

Excavations of a Terminal Classic Courtyard Structure at Xno’ha

In 2013, a small Courtyard Group, designated Group 63, was also excavated. The group comprises five small structures that surround a small plaza, located south of Structure 1 and in close proximity to the Xno’ha site core. The objective of the investigation was to generate a sample of residential architecture to compare with other sites in the region, namely Nojol Nah, Tulix Mul and Blue Creek.

Focus of the investigation was directed at Structure 67, which was completely excavated over a four-week period. The structure measures approximately eight meters long and comprises four rooms, three of which were oriented east to west. The fourth Room, oriented north-south, was assessed as being the earliest of the four rooms. All ceramic material recovered during the excavation dated to the Terminal Classic Period and all but one was built in a single construction phase. It was noted during the excavations that the entire structure was built directly onto the bedrock. This style of architecture seems prevalent at Xno’ha, while presently unknown at both Nojol Nah and Tulix Mul (Hannah Plumer 2014: 83-85)

Excavations at Group 78

The excavations were undertaken at Group 78 over a four-week period in July 2013. The purpose of the excavations was to commence exposing Structures 79 and 80 before subsequent excavations reveal the broader construction history of the group in later field seasons. The approach undertaken was to first locate the patio surface and baseline of two superstructures before broader stripping of the associated architecture. In addition to the general objectives of the fieldwork being achieved, a Late Preclassic ceramic cache (comprising 9 Sierra Red vessels) was recovered during excavations as well as an Early Classic tomb.

mrpcachesituThe Late Preclassic Ceramic Cache in Situ (as found)

mrpcacheFigure 4: Reconstruction of Preclassic Ceramic Cache 13-03, Vessels 2-7, East View

Preclassic Ceramic Cache

During 2013 a sub-patio ceramic deposit was uncovered during the stripping operations connected with Structure 78. Designated Xno’ha Cache 13-03, the cache consisted of 9 fragmented Sierra Red vessels dating typologically to the Late Preclassic period (300 BC-250 AD).

Found in the southeast quadrant of Sub-operation A, against the east wall of the trench, the most intact portion of the cache (Vessels 2 to 7) were found at a depth of 110 cm.  Highly fragmented Vessels 1, 8 and 9, were located directly above this deposit. The cache measured 125 cm north-south and 50 cm east-west in its horizontal extent and 45 cm vertically.  Two vessels remained in the east wall of Sub-operation A at the end of the 2013 field season.

The most ordered component of the cache was represented by 6 pots numbered 2 -7. Four of the vessels (Vessels 1, 2, 3 and 4) were staked in a lip-to-lip configuration with one vessel positioned immediately north and south of the stack. Pollen and phytolith analysis of the sediments contained within the vessels determined the following:

This sample is characterized by high frequencies of leaves from shrubs and trees, as well as herbaceous monocots, similar to the assemblage from the burial at Chum Balam Na. A trace of hat-shaped phytoliths (0.4 percent) indicates that palm fruits may have been part of the offering. A low frequency of spinulose spheres > 10µ (2.2 percent) indicate that oil extracted from A. cohune and/or R. regia may have been poured into the lower vessel.  Two sponge spicules were found while scanning.  Their rarity indicates that the spicules may have leaked into the vessel from the surrounding matrix. As in the Chum Balam Na sample, this isolate required oxidation (in concentrated hydrogen peroxide) to remove large amounts of microscopic plant material that were probably the result of large amounts of leaves having been placed in the cache (Bozarth 2013: 12-13).

xnohafigure4Figure 5: Configuration of Multiple Vessel Lip-to-Lip Cache, Lot 7, Vessels 2-7, East View

 

Xno’ha Burial 13-01

During the excavation of Xno’ha Sub-operation B, two closely positioned capstones were revealed overlying a human burial at the western end of the excavation. The poor condition of the burial chamber suggested that the tomb may have succumbed to compression from the surrounding construction fill. Excavation revealed a burial cavity measuring 110 cm by 65 cm containing the individual interred in a flexed position facing eastward with the head oriented to the south. Some of the more distinguishable skeletal remains were a partial cranium and several long bones, which included an ulna, radius, humerus and femur.  A highly fragmented pelvis was also identifiable; in addition there were bone fragments and several teeth that were recovered during sieving of the burial deposits. As formal analysis of the remains has yet to be undertaken, it is unclear whether it will be possible to determine the age and gender of the individual, due primarily to the poor condition of the remains.

One highly degraded and non-diagnostic fragment of pottery, probably associated with the surrounding construction fill, was recovered while excavating Lot 6. Additionally, two marine shells and a jade cylinder bead were also found. The mottled whitish-green jade bead (measuring 60 mm long and 25 mm thick) was found positioned between the ulna/radius and the cranium of the individual. The bore drilled through the length of the bead measured 6 mm. The marine shells were recovered whilst sieving the burial deposits. It is clear that the floor, below which the burial had been placed, corresponded to an earlier construction phase of the patio group.

Xno’ha Excavations 2014

Building Group 78 – Excavation Method and Stratigraphy

The excavations at Group 78 were undertaken over an eight-week period commencing in early June and finishing at the end of July 2014. Due to time constraints, the excavations were undertaken by two teams of volunteers led by MRP Staff and interns. Ian Lemasters and Holly Lincoln led one team that focused on the continued stripping operation of Structures 79 and 80, which began the previous year (see Lemasters and Lincoln, this volume). The excavation in the patio area was supervised by Alexander Parmington whose qualifications include a Doctorate in Maya Archaeology from La Trobe University, Australia.

Excavations were undertaken at Xno’ha Group 78 Patio from the 1st of July to the 29th of July utilizing teams of volunteers, numbering 6-8, over two consecutive 2 week sessions (i.e. Sessions 3 and 4); participants included local workers from San Felipe as well as volunteers from the United States. The Session 3 volunteers were Fidel Cruz, Kevin Austin, Megan Weldy, Jack Magee, Emily Prichard, Julia Mahr, Shelby Betz, and Beth Eraul; the Session 4 volunteer participants were Katie Wahler, Mariela Mendoza, Douglas Reithmuller, Romano Derosa, and Chabli Bravo. What follows is a description of the excavations, which were undertaken in accordance with the research objectives and ‘Specific Planned Activity’ items 1 and 4 as out lined in the 2014 research proposal:

Specific Planned Activity items 1 and 4

  1. 1. Excavations of elite residential groups. As part of our ongoing concern with the events and processes of abandonment, we propose to continue stripping excavations of several elite residences at Xno’ha, Nojol Nah and Tulix Mul Blue Creek. The major effort will be at Xno’ha, where we will continue investigating elite residences associated with the main plaza.” (see Guderjan 2014: 2).

 

  1. 4. Continuation of excavations at Xno’ha. A major part of our long-term planning is to enhance our understanding of regional processes of interaction and abandonment. Earlier research at Xno’ha focused on similar questions but did not address acquisition of data from the Central Precinct. We undertook first excavations in 2012 and in 2013 found that the buildings believed to be a ballcourt was not. We will continue these excavations in 2014.”(see Guderjan 2014: 3).

 

Eight sub-operations were excavated in the Building Group 78 Patio area during the 2014 field season (i.e. A, B, M, N, O, P, T and U) [Note: in this report, Lots Q 62 and Q 67 have been redesignated P 62 and P 67]. In the following discussion, profile drawings, figures and plans will be presented for the sub-operations and lots; lots being the smallest provenance designations recorded. Figure 6 provides a key for the locations of the sub-operations and their positions relative to the structures they were assigned to investigate. All of the sub-operations excavated measured 2 metres by 4 metres, with exception of Sub-operation P and U, which were excavated to chase out (i.e. determine the extent) of cultural deposits (see Figure 6).

Each sub-operation was placed so that its long axis ran parallel to the sub-operations excavated in 2013. Due to the prospective depths of the excavations and concerns regarding access and stability of the excavations, the 2 metre by 4 metre sub-operations were each separated by a 50 cm balk. During excavations, four primary stratigraphic layers were identified; overlayed by a humus of amassed soils. Each related to different phases of the patio’s construction. The humic layer within all sub-operations generally consisted of a moist brownish-grey silty loam with abundant tree roots and gravels throughout. The underlying rubble generally consisted of poorly sorted limestone cobble mixed with limestone and silty soils. All boundaries between gravels and soils were relatively diffuse with moderate to abundant root disturbance apparent throughout the upper fill.

All lots were excavated stratigraphically; each is discussed numerically under the relevant sub-operation header (see below). Due to the disturbed nature of the upper deposits, all excavation of the upper structural fill was undertaken with a mattock, hand pick, and shovel. Additionally, while all associated ceramic and lithic artefacts were collected and assigned relevant Lot numbers, only every fourth bucket of excavated humus was dry-screened.  Every second bucket of soils collected below humic level was screened, while 100% screening of subsoils was limited to those lots with in-situ deposits.

All architectural features and special deposits were excavated by trowel, hand-pick, brush and pan; they were also progressively documented and digitally photographed. The X, Y and Z coordinates for all in-situ cultural material was recorded with tape and compass. Vertical control was achieved and maintained with a transit. Excavation of the structures were undertaken systematically; for example, when an architectural feature or special deposit was identified, the archaeological investigation determined the horizontal extent of the deposit, or find, before proceeding downward through the underlying strata. Where applicable, soil samples were collected for pollen and phosphate testing as was the case with the Sub-operation P and the Sub-operation U (see relevant sections below). Human remains were excavated with dental tools, small plastic spatulas and brushes to minimise damage to the bone during excavation. Where possible, lots were dated by the associated ceramics (analyses provided by Colleen Hanratty).

Drawing 1Figure 6: Plan of Excavations, Xno’ha Group 78 – Patio Area. Courtesy MRP

 

Xno’ha Operation 13-02, Sub-operation M – Lots 51, 54, 60, 66, 68 and 88

Oriented east-west, Xno’ha Sub-operation M comprised a 4 metre by 2 metre trench located south of sub-operation B and Structure 80 (see Figure 6). The objective of Xno’ha Sub-operation M was to investigate the external patio area of Building Group 78. This included verifying the presence of a suspected floor that was detected during the excavation of Suboperation B in 2013. Located immediately north of Sub-operation M, associated with this floor, was a large ceramic deposit that was located in the east of the sub-operation.

The excavation of Sub-operation M was undertaken to a maximum depth of 120 cm below surface level and began with the removal of the overburden resulting from the accumulation of soils and plant decomposition. This was followed by the excavation of the underlying construction fill revealing two floor surfaces. Two capstones covering what turned out to be a Late Preclassic tomb (see Sub-operation U, Lot 96) were also found during the excavation of Sub-operation M as well as the remains of a large Late Preclassic vessel (see Lots 51, 54, 60, 66, 68 88 and Figures 8 and 9).

Lot 51 – Removal of Humus

Occasional chipped stone (i.e. lithics) and ceramic fragments were unearthed, collected and bagged during the excavation of Lot 51. The excavation of Lot 51 extended to a depth of 45 cm. The compaction of the soil was found to be loose, comprising moist dark-brown silty loam (5YR 3/1) with frequent course limestone pebbles and cobbles. Cortical cert and abundant roots were found throughout the deposit. The relative percentage of the pebbles/cobbles to soil matrix was estimated to be 30% and 70% respectively. Removal of the humic layer exposed increasing cobble composed primarily of limestone. No formal surface to the patio was identified during the excavation of Sub-operation M, Lot 51. The lot was closed following the detection of a substantial increase of cobble material.

Lot 54 – Patio Construction Fill and Preclassic Pot

Lot 54 comprised loose dark greyish-brown soils (10YR 4/2) with limestone and chert cobble, the relative percentages of cobble and soil was 70% and 30% respectively. Artefactual material comprised infrequent chipped stone artefacts and ceramic sherds. The remains of a Late Preclassic pot measuring approximately 25 cm in diameter, was detected in the east profile of the sub-operation; located at the interface between the primary humic layer and the underlying cobble fill. Even though the vessel was highly fragmented, its vertical (upright) orientation could be discerned during excavation. Only a portion of the vessel was recovered during the excavation of Lot 54. Recovering any remaining vessel fragments will require extending Sub-operation M eastward. Lot 54 was excavated to a maximum depth of 65 cm and ceased when an increase in the size of underlying ballast was identified. Lot 54 was closed when large rubble was detected representing the primary construction fill for the latest phase of the patio’s construction.

xnohafigure6Lot 51, East Profile, Late Preclassic Jar Offering

Lot 60 – Patio Construction Fill and Capstones

Large boulders of chert and limestone were identified during the excavation of Lot 60. The matrix in between the boulders comprised moist dark grey brown silty loam (10YR 4/2) loam with infrequent poorly sorted cobbles and pebbles. Percentages of soils verses ballast material was 20% and 80% respectively.

Occasional chipped stone (i.e. lithics) and ceramic fragments were unearthed, collected, and bagged during the excavation of Lot 60. Lot 60 extended to a maximum depth of 85cm and terminated following an apparent reduction in the size and frequency of ballast material, the discovery of several pieces of fragmented bone, and the identification of two capstones located in the south-west quadrant of the sub-operation. The bone fragments were found in association with what was initially thought to be a disturbed burial on the east side of the sub-operation. Oriented north-east, the burial was suggested by two rows of stones that appeared to be set in a parallel configuration. It was originally believed that the stones may have once been positioned to support capstones and contain human remains; however, further inquiry could not verify this proposal nor discount the possibility that the stones were simply residual cobble material suspended in the surrounding soil matrix.

Lot 66 – Exposure of Remnant Floor

Occasional chipped stone (i.e. lithics) and ceramic fragments were unearthed, collected, and bagged during the excavation of Lot 66. Lot 66 comprised a greyish-brown fine grained silty loam (7.5YR 5/1) with inclusions of limestone ranging in size from 5-30cm in their maximum dimension. Excavation of Lot 60 exposed a grey silty relatively free of rock suggesting the excavation was on or approaching a remnant floor surface. Several fragments of bone as well as a medial obsidian blade were found while dry sieving the deposits. During excavation, the fragments of bone and obsidian blade were viewed as potential floor deposits. The excavation of Lot 66 ceased following the identification of the suspected floor deposit, which corresponded to the elevation of the remnant floor surface identified during the excavation of Sub-operation B Lot 4 in 2013, which approximated 89.85 metres above sea level. Lot 66 reached a maximum depth of 110 cm.

Lot 68 – Excavation of Floor

The objective of Lot 68 was to excavate the floor identified during the previous lot. Occasional chipped stone and ceramic fragments were collected and bagged during the excavation of Lot 68. The remnant floor comprised a compact greyish-brown fine grained silty loam (7.5YR 5/1) with infrequent inclusions of limestone and suspended ballast material ranging in size from 5-40cm. The floor surface was poorly preserved and extended westward as far as two capstones that were exposed during the excavation of Lot 66. The termination of the floor on the eastern side of the capstones indicated that it did not extend across the entire sub-operation and that the burial (verified during the excavation of Sub-operation U), penetrated through the floor surface into the supporting construction fill. The intrusive nature of the burial was also evidenced by a concentration of cobble material, at the floor level, visible in the western profile of the sub-operation. Lot 68 reached a maximum depth of approximating 120 cm. As previously stated, the depth of the remnant floor was consistent with the level of the floor identified in the northern and neighbouring Sub-operation B, which was excavated in 2013. The excavation of Lot 68 ceased when a darkening of soil was detected as well as the reappearance of supporting cobble construction fill.

Lot 88 – Sub-floor Construction Fill

The objective of the Sub-operation 88 was to break through the remnant sub-floor construction fill to the underlying bedrock, which was identified during the excavation of Sub-operation T (see relevant sections). Lot 88 comprised a relatively thin layer of limestone and chert cobble fill suspended a matrix of dark grey-brown silty loam with increasing clay content (munsel 2.5YR 4/1); the relative percentages of cobble and soil were 80% and 20% respectively. Occasional chipped stone artefacts and ceramic fragments were collected and bagged during the excavation of Lot 88. The suspected burial, located in the east of Sub-operation M (see Lot 60), was further investigated and subsequently dismissed as a possibility, during the excavation of Lot 88. Limited time prevented the completion of the Lot 88, which will continue in 2015. Sub-operation M reached a maximum depth of 130 cm from surface level. 

Xno’ha Operation 13-02, Sub-operation N – Lot 52

Oriented east-west, Xno’ha Sub-operation N was to be a 4 metre by 2 metre trench located east of sub-operation M. The objective of Xno’ha Sub-operation N was to investigate a shallow surface depression and an area of inclined ground located on the eastern side of the group (see Figure 6). The surface depression measures 4 metres north-south and 5.4 metres east-west. As previously stated, it is unclear what this surface depression is; whether it represents slumping of the building group’s patio or, alternatively, a remnant architectural feature. Initial clearing of vegetation in 2013 suggested that it may have once formed part of a terraced approach, functioning as the formal entrance to the group. Unfortunately, time constraints prevented the excavation of Suboperation N beyond general clearing of surface vegetation. It is projected the excavation of Sub-operation N will continue in 2015.

Xno’ha Operation 13-02, Sub-operation O – Lots 55, 59, 70, 72 and 105

Oriented east-west, Xno’ha Sub-operation O comprised a 4 metre by 2 metre trench located immediately west of sub-operation B and south of Structure 80 (see Figure 6). The objectives of Xno’ha Sub-operation O were generally consistent with Sub-operation M: to investigate the external patio fronting Building Group 78. This included verifying the presence and extent of a floor that was detected during the excavation of Suboperation B in 2013 as well identify any associated architectural features if present. Additionally, it was decided that further excavation of the patio fronting Structure 80 may uncover cache deposits associated with the dedication of Structure 80 and/or any earlier construction phases of the building group.

The excavation of Sub-operation O and was undertaken to a maximum depth of 140cm below surface level and began with the removal of the overburden resulting from the accumulation of soils and plant decomposition. This was followed by the excavation of successive spits of platform construction fill. The excavation of Sub-operation exposed what is currently believed to be a small bench or platform (see Lots 55, 59, 70, 72 and 105).

Lots 55 and 59 – Removal of Humus

Infrequent chipped stone and fragmented ceramics were unearthed, collected and bagged during the excavation of Lots 55 and 59. The excavation of Lots 55 and 59 was undertaken in arbitrary spits of 30-40 cm and extended to a maximum depth of 70 cm. The compaction of the soil was consistent with Sub-operation M and was found to be loose comprising moist dark brown silty loam (5YR 3/1) with frequent roots and occasional course limestone pebbles and cobbles. Small cortical chert cobbles were also found throughout Lots 55 and 59. The relative percentage of the pebbles/cobbles to soil matrix was estimated to be 20% and 80% respectively. Removal of the humic layer exposed increasing cobble composed primarily of limestone. No formal surface to the patio was identified during the excavation of Lots 55 and 59. There was gradual lightening of the soils as Sub-operation progressed deeper. Lot 59 was closed following the removal of the primary root zone as well as the detection of an apparent increase in the frequency of pebble and cobble material.

Lot 70 – Exposure of Plastered Surface

Lot 70 comprised loose mid Greyish-brown loam (7.5YR 5/1) mixed with a concentration of moderately sorted pebble and cobble material. Infrequent lithics and ceramic fragments were unearthed, collected and bagged during the excavation of Lot 70. Excavation of Lot 70 ceased at a maximum depth of 100 cm from surface level; following the detection of the compact plaster surface at the centre of the sub-operation. This plaster surface was initially thought to be a floor but is now believed to be a potential bench following the excavation of subsequent lots (see Lots 72 and 105). Lot 70 was closed and a new lot assigned, following the identification of the compact plastered surface. This was done to separate any potential cultural deposits associated with the surface of this feature (see Lot 72).    

Lot 72 – Cut in Plaster Surface and Remnant Wall

The excavation of Lot 72 revealed a plaster surface in the central area of Sub-operation O. The plaster feature measures approximately 2 m east-west (the northern and southern extent of the feature has yet to be determined) and is bounded on the east by a line of stones suggesting the presence of a rudimentary wall. The plaster feature is delineated on the west by a north-south oriented cut. During excavation, an additional thin covering of plaster was found extending from the cut. The western profile of the sub-operation suggested that it may have been capping something below. The Lot was closed following the identification of the cut, the additional plaster surface, and the remnant wall located on the east side of the sub-operation.

Lot 105 – Exposure of Bench Feature

The objective of Lot 105 was to investigate a cut found adjacent to a plaster feature, which was identified during the exaction of Lot 72. The Excavation of Lot 105 revealed a 40 cm high bench-like feature, located in the central area of Sub-operation O. A remnant plaster floor was also found lipping up to the bench on its western side. An examination of the cut revealed no overlying cultural deposits other than construction fill. Excavation around the feature reaffirmed the presence of the rudimentary wall abutting the eastern side of the bench; the western side of the bench was constructed from a single course of cut stone. A break in the plaster render, on the top surface of the bench, indicated that the bench is constructed primarily of cobble fill.

The excavation of Lot 105, on the eastern and western sided of the bench, extended to a maximum depth of 140 cm from the surface level. The compaction of the soil was loose comprising loose mid greyish-brown silty loam (7.5YR 5/1) mixed with frequent chert and limestone pebbles and cobbles. The relative percentage of the soil matrix to pebble/cobble material was estimated to be 20% and 80% respectively. Infrequent chipped stone and fragmented ceramics were unearthed, collected and bagged during the excavation of Lot 105. The northern and southern extent of the bench has yet to be ascertained.

Xno’ha Operation 13-02, Sub-operation P Lots 56, 57, 58, 61, 62, 67, 71, 86

The objective of Sub-operation P was to recover the remainder of Cache 13-03, which was partially excavated in 2013. During the 2013 excavations, a sub-patio cache of vessels was exposed during the stripping operations associated with Structure 78. Subsequent excavations revealed that the cache comprised at least 9 fragmented Sierra Red vessels dating typologically to the Late Preclassic period (300BC-250AD). At the end of the 2013 field season, two fragmented vessels, ordered in a lip-to-lip configuration, remained visible in the east wall of Sub-operation A at the northern end of the cache deposit. Sub-operation P was positioned immediately east of Sub-operation A (refer Figure 6). On completion, Sub-operation P measured 2.3 metres north-south and 1.4 metres east-west and reached a maximum depth of around 120 cm below surface level.

Sub-operation P began with the removal of overburden resulting from the accumulation of soils and plant decomposition. This was followed by the excavation of the underlying construction fill and the recovery of 6 complete and 10 partial vessels. All vessels were found broken and suspended in the construction fill of the patio. The highly fragmented condition of the vessels was the result of compression by the surrounding construction fill and presence of a large tree found growing directly above and down through the cache deposit (see Lots 56, 57, 58, 61, 62, 67, 71, 86).

While it remains unclear whether vessels recovered during the 2014 excavations are a component of Xno’ha Cache 13-03, it is possible that the vessels recovered during the excavation of Sub-operation P were an unrelated deposit. This is evidenced by differences in the size and configuration of the vessels recovered during the 2013 and 2014 field seasons as well as differences in the elevations of both ceramic deposits. Following the excavation of Sub-operation P, and subsequent lab analysis of the vessels recovered, the minimum number of individual vessels that recovered in the vicinity of Cache 13-03, increased from 9 (as documented in 2013) to 25.

Lot 56 – Removal of Humus and Tree Roots

Occasional chipped stone artefacts and ceramic sherds were unearthed, collected and bagged during the excavation of Lot 56. The excavation of Lot 56 extended to a depth of 50 cm. The compaction of the soil was found to be loose comprising moist fine dark-brown silty loam (5YR 3/1) with frequent medium sized course limestone pebbles and cobbles and abundant tree roots throughout. The relative percentage of the pebbles/cobbles to soil matrix was estimated to be 30% and 70% respectively. Removal of the humic layer exposed cobble composed primarily of limestone. The lot was closed following penetration through the primary root zone.

A choice was made during the excavation of Lot 56 not to remove the entire tree located in the vicinity of Cache 13-03; but rather, to excavate around it. This was due to concerns regarding the stability of the ground and the fragility of any remaining cached vessels: The removal of the tree would have resulted in substantial ground disturbance in the vicinity of the cache.

Lot 57 – Fill above Cache 13-03

The interface between Lot 56 and 57 was diffuse, occurring over a vertical distance of approximately 15 cm. Occasional chipped stone and ceramic fragments were unearthed, collected, and bagged during the excavation of Lot 57. Large cobbles of chert and limestone, measuring 10-60 cm, were identified during the excavation of Lot 57. The matrix in between the cobble comprised a moist grey-brown silty loam (10YR 4/2) with frequent poorly sorted pebbles and cobble. Percentages of soils verses pebble/cobble was 30% and 70% respectively. Lot 57 was excavated to a depth of 60 cm and ceased on the identification of an area of grey loam (10YR 4/2) that was free of rubble measuring approximately 120 cm north-south and 70 cm east-west. 

Lot 58 – Exposure of Capstones

The objective of Lot 58 was to determine the nature of the cobble-free deposit located east of the Cache deposit identified in 2013 (see MRP 2013 field report). Excavation of Lot 58 revealed two capstones, aligned north-south, at a depth of 70 cm. On discovery of the capstones, the excavation of Lot 58 continued for the purpose of removing associate soils and exposing any underlying features. The deposit consisted of moist grey-brown silty loam (10YR 4/2), surrounding what was initially thought to be a tomb. This suggestion was later dismissed following the discovery of fragmented vessels in subsequent lots that were set in a lip to lip configuration below the capstones. Excavation of Lot 58 ceased at a depth of 100 cm, once the capstones and the surrounding ballast were fully exposed. One broken and incised dolomite bead, measuring 55 mm in maximum dimension, was recovered during the excavation of the deposit overlying the capstones.

Lot 61 – Ceramic Deposit: Cache Outer, Northwest

The purpose of Lot 61 was the recovery of two fragmented lip-to-lip vessels identified in the south profile of Sub-operation A in 2013 (see MRP field report 2013). The deposit was designated ‘Ceramic Deposit, Northwest Corner’ following the identification of additional vessels underlying a northern most capstone, which was found during the excavation of Lot 58; it was determined that the vessels beneath the capstone comprised the central portion of a larger ceramic deposit (see Lots 62 and 67). During the excavation of Lot 61, all pottery was removed with associated soils for the purpose of sampling. The supporting material comprised relatively small well sorted limestone cobble. No unusual residues were identified during excavation of the vessels. Following lab analysis, one Sierra Red bichrome bowl measuring 19 cm in diameter was reconstructed showing punctuations on the exterior, dating to the Late Preclassic period.

Lot 62 Ceramic Deposit: Cache Inner

The purpose of Lot 62 was to determine the nature of the deposit underlying two capstones that were found during the excavation of Lot 58. First suspected to be a burial, the lot was subsequently designated ‘Ceramic Deposit, Cache Inner’ when several vessels were found beneath the northern capstone, which comprised the central portion of a larger ceramic deposit (see Lots 61 and 67): On removal of the capstones, and adjacent cobble, a total of six fragmented Sierra Red vessels dating to the Late Preclassic period were recovered at a depth of approximately 80 cm from the surface level; two of which were configured in a lip-to-lip configuration and positioned directly beneath the northern most capstone. While the ordering of the remaining ‘Cache Inner’ vessels could not be ascertained (due to their high fragmentation), there was a clear concentration of vessels just north of those underling the capstones. The poor condition of the vessels suggested that the cache may have succumbed to compression from the surrounding construction fill. During the excavation of Lot 67, all pottery was removed with associated soils for the purpose of sampling. No unusual residues were identified during excavation of the vessels. The surrounding material comprised small well sorted limestone a cobble that was apparently utilised as packing to support the cached vessels. Following lab analysis, six vessels were reconstructed which ranged from 19-25cm in diameter. On recovery of the vessels beneath the capstones, it was found that the cache deposit extended eastward into the root zone of an overlying tree (see Lot 67 Ceramic Cache East Outer).

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Lot 67 – Ceramic Cache: East Outer

The objective of Lot 67 was to determine the eastern extent of a ceramic deposit that was exposed during the recovery central portion of deposit underlying two capstones, which were found during the excavation of Lot 58. Lot 67 was designated ‘Ceramic Deposit, Cache East-Outer’, which comprised the eastern portion of a larger ceramic deposit (see Lots 61 and 62). A concentration of ten partial Sierra Red vessels, dating to the Late Preclassic period, was recovered during excavation of Lot 67. While the precise configuration of the eastern segment of the cache could not be ascertained (again, due to their high fragmentation), at least two vessels appeared to be in a lip-to-lip configuration. The poor preservation of the eastern component of the cache could be attributed to a large amount of disturbance due to the presence of a tree roots growing directly above and through the deposit. No unusual residues were identified during excavation of the vessels. The surrounding soil comprised a loose mid greyish-brown loam (7.5YR 5/1) mixed with moderately sorted pebble and cobble material. Following lab analysis, the partial vessels were reconstructed where possible. Estimates of vessel size ranged from 20 to 25 cm in diameter. The depth of the east-outer component of the cache was consistent with Lot 62: The vessels were recovered from a depth of approximately 80 cm from the surface level.

The Lot 67 was closed once all noticeable ceramics were recovered. Given the partial nature of all vessels recovered from the east-outer component of the cache, there remains some potential for further associated ceramic to found following the removal of the tree and when Sub-operation P is extended eastward in 2015.

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Lot 71 – Cobble Below Cache Overlying Floor

Below Lots 61, 62 and 67 was a layer of cobble overlying remnant plastered floor, designated Lot 71. The deposit comprised a mid greyish-brown silty loam with large cobble ballast mixed throughout. The relative percentage of the cobbles to soil matrix (7.5YR 5/1) was estimated to be 70% and 30% respectively. During the excavation of Lot 71, a compact plaster floor was found extending across the entire sub-operation. The objective of Sub-operation 71 was to expose the plaster floor taking special note of any cultural deposits that may have been present on close to floor level. Two broken jade beads (split longitudinally) were recovered during the excavation of Sub-operation P. Measuring 16 mm and 11mm in their maximum dimension, the smaller of the two beads was found while sieving the deposits and the other was found in situ while scraping back the floor in the vicinity of the Cache 13-01. The presence of these broken beads suggests that they once comprised a component of the Cache 13-01. Lot 71 extended to a maximum depth of 120 cm-130 cm from surface level and was close once the floor was fully exposed. During the excavation of Lot 71, some degraded bone was also identified in the east wall of Sub-operation P.

Lot 86 – Bone Deposit On Floor Below Cache 13-03 East Outer

On clearing of the deposits underlying Ceramic Cache 13-03 East Outer (i.e. Lot 71), a deposit of highly degraded bone was found in the east profile of Sub-operation P at a depth of 120 cm from the surface level. The purpose of Lot 86 was to determine the nature of this bone deposit. The small area of localised bone was surrounded by a grey-brown silty loam (7.5YR 5/1) that was relatively free of any stone or cobble material. Measuring 15-20 cm east-west, the bone was highly friable; held together only by the surrounding soil matrix. It could not be determined during excavation whether the bone was human; on its removal it completely disintegrated. During the excavation of Lot 86, associated soils were bagged for the purpose of sampling.

Location:  Xno’ha Operation 13-02, Sub-operation A – Lot 73

Oriented north-south, Xno’ha Sub-operation A comprised a 4-metre by 2-metre trench located on the western side of Sub-operation P (see Figure 6). Beginning in 2013, the purpose of Xno’ha Sub-operation A was to define the baseline (east side) of Structure 79. This required identifying the most recent phase of the plaza’s construction before extending northward towards the building with subsequent sub-operations. A deposit of nine Late Preclassic vessels was recovered during the excavations in the patio area of Sub-operation A. The excavations ceased at a depth of 110 cm in 2013, following removal of the cached vessels.

Excavation of Suboperation A continued in 2014 (i.e. Lot 73) to verify the presence of a floor identified during the exaction neighbouring Sub-operation P (see Lot 71). This required removal of a layer of cobble ballast approximately 20 cm thick. The excavation of Lot 73 confirmed that the floor, identified during the excavation Lot 71, did extend across Sub-operation A.

During the excavation of Lot 73, a small concentration of ceramic sherds (collectively comprising one near complete Sierra Red vessel) was recovered from the patio construction fill in the northeast quadrant of Sub-operation A. Located near the northwest boundary of Sub-operation P, the size and form of the vessel (once reconstructed) was consistent with those recovered from Lots 61, 62 and 67, indicating that it may have been a component of the Cache 13-03. However, given its positioning away from the larger Cache I3-03 deposit, this vessel may have no direct association.

Xno’ha Operation 13-02, Sub-operation T – Lots 76 & 80

Sub-operation T was undertaken to investigate the floor identified during the excavation of Sub-operations A and P (see Lots 71 and 73). To abridge the inquiry, a decision was made to consolidate Sub-operations A and P into one sub-operation. Sub-operation T comprised two lots (Lots 76 and 80), which, on excavation, revealed a heavy plaster flooring (believed to be earliest construction phase of the patio) adhered to a thin underlying layer of construction fill. This was followed by the exposure of a layer of clayey soil (see Lot 80) covering undulating bedrock. During the excavation of Lot 80 a cut was identified in the underlying bedrock in the southeast of the sub-operation; in addition to a remnant wall and fragmented Late Preclassic incensario in the north of the sub-operation. The excavation of Sub-operation T was undertaken to a maximum depth of 210 cm below surface level (see Lots 76 and 80).

Lot 76 – Penetration of Plaster

The object Lot 76 was to penetrate a plaster floor that was identified during the excavation of Lots 71 and 73 and expose any underlying construction fill. Excavation of Lot 76 revealed a floor measuring 20-30 cm thick that was adhered to a thin layer of cobble fill. The weight of the floor, combined with its close proximity to bedrock (see Lot 80), suggested that it relates to the earliest construction phase of the patio. The expanse of this early floor was suggested by the presence of a remnant floor found at a corresponding depth (see Lots 66, 71 and 73) during the excavation of Sub-operation M. It has yet to be established what relationship this early floor has with the Structures 79 and 80; although, it is certain that it corresponds to earlier phase construction. Infrequent chipped stone and fragmented ceramics were unearthed, collected and bagged during the excavation of Lot 76. The excavation of Lot 76 extended to a maximum depth of 150 cm below surface level and cease following the identification of a layer clayey soils overlying bedrock.

Lot 80 – Clay over Bedrock and Remnant Architectural Feature

The objective of the Sub-operation 80 was to excavate the soil deposit identified during the excavation of Lot 76, which comprised a dark grey-brown loam with high clay content (munsel 2.5YR 4/1). Found to be reasonably free of cobble, the relative percentages of soil and cobble/stone material were 95% and 5% respectively. Occasional chipped stone artefacts and ceramic fragments were collected and bagged during the excavation of Lot 80. 

The excavation of Lot 80 revealed what appeared to be a 100 cm x 60 cm cut in the bedrock in the southeast quadrant of Sub-operation T as well as a small deposit of highly degraded bone located immediately west of this cut. In addition to these finds, a suspected remnant wall was identified immediately below the thick plaster floor at a depth of 160 cm in the north of the sub-operation. The wall comprised two single parallel courses of cut stone (chert) that were oriented in east-west. A highly fragmented Late Preclassic vessel was found in association with this architectural feature. A possible termination deposit, the form and likely function of this vessel have yet to be ascertained; however, the presence of protuberances or spikes over the vessel exterior (on occasion referred to as hobnails and thought to be symbolic of the Ceiba tree) is not an uncommon feature of Maya incensarios. The excavation of Lot 80 ceased at a maximum depth of 210 cm from surface level, once bedrock was reached. Some further excavation of Lot 80 will be required in 2015 to recover any additional pieces of the incensario that may have been missed during the excavation of Lot 80.

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 Following discovery of two capstones in the southwest of Sub-operation M (see Lot 60), suggesting the presence of a burial, a decision was made to extend the trench westward under a new sub-operation. Designated Sub-operation U, its purpose was to fully expose the outside of the suspected burial before lifting the capstones and excavating its interior. The excavation of the burial and the overlying deposits under a new sub-operation provided tighter control over the provenance of materials recovered during excavation. The excavation of Sub-operation U verified the presence of a burial (Tomb 14-01) containing an interred individual with an array of burial goods comprising macro botanicals, an intact Late Preclassic bird effigy incensario, and various items of body ornamentation. 

Approximating 140 cm x 150 cm, the excavation of Sub-operation U was undertaken to a maximum depth of 140 cm below surface level. It began with the removal of aggraded soils resulting from plant decomposition. This was followed by the excavation of the underlying construction fill. Following this, the three capstones were subsequently removed and the interior of the burial excavated (see Lots 92, 93, and 96).

Lot 92 – Removal of Humus

Consistent with Sub-operation M, Lot 51, occasional chipped stone artefacts and ceramic fragments were unearthed, collected and bagged during the excavation of Lot 92. The excavation of Lot 92 extended to a depth of 45 cm. The compaction of the soil was found to be loose comprising moist dark fine brown silty loam (5YR 3/1) with frequent course limestone pebbles and cobbles. Cortical cert and abundant roots were found throughout the deposit. The relative percentage of the pebbles/cobbles to soil matrix was estimated to be 30% and 70% respectively. Removal of the humic layer exposed increasing cobble composed primarily of limestone. No formal surface to the patio was identified during the excavation of Sub-operation U, Lot 92. The lot was closed following the detection of a substantial increase in underlying cobble material.

Lot 93 – Construction Fill Over Burial

Lot 93 comprised loose dark greyish brown soils (10YR 4/2) with limestone and chert cobble, the relative percentages of cobble and soil was 70% and 30% respectively. Artefactual material comprised infrequent chipped stone artefacts and ceramic sherds, which were collected and bagged during the excavation. Lot 93 was excavated to a maximum depth of 85 cm and ceased when all capstones were exposed. A third capstone was identified during the excavation of Lot 93 positioned just south of the two identified during the excavation of Suboperation M Lot 60.

Lot 96 – Tomb 14-01 Interior

The objective of Lot 96 was the excavation of Tomb 14-01 interior. Removal of the three capstones revealed a thin layer of gravels over loose greyish-brown silty loam (2.5YR 4/1) free of construction fill. On excavating down into the burial cavity, which measured 120 cm north-south and 50 cm east-west and was lined with cut limestone, highly degraded human skeletal remains were identified. The first appearance of the skeletal remains occurred at a depth 0f 100 cm and ended at a depth of 140 cm from surface level. Excavation of these remains revealed a human individual interred in a flexed position facing eastward with the head oriented to the North. Some of the more distinguishable skeletal vestiges included a partial cranium and several long bones; they also included a partial radius and humerus as well as a partial femur and tibia. In addition to long bones and bone fragments, several teeth were found while sieving of the surrounding deposits. As formal analysis of the remains has yet to be undertaken, it is unclear whether it will be possible to determine the age, health and gender of the individual; this is due primarily to their poor condition of the remains. Soils samples were collected from the burial for pollen and phytolith, results of which are pending.

Grave goods found with the burial included twenty-three plant seeds from three different plant varieties. Formal identification these macro-botanicals have yet to be undertaken. The seeds were found within the soil overlying the burial; their presence suggested that related plant material was deposited with burial. This finding is generally consistent with those associated with Xno’ha Burial 13-01,which was excavated the previous year (see MRP 2013 field report). Analysis of the soil sample taken from Burial 13-01 determined the following:

The high frequency of unknown phytoliths is the result of poor preservation.  No hat-shaped palm phytoliths were found.  However, the frequency of spinulose spheres > 10µ (4.8 percent) indicates that oil extracted from A. cohune and/or R. regia may have been poured into the vessel. Moreover, a low frequency of sponge spicules (1.2 percent) indicates that sponges were part of the offering (Bozarth 2013: 13).

In addition to the macro botanicals, a conch shell ornament carved into a flower shape (measuring 27 mm across) was found over the midsection of the individual; together with a red coral cruciform insert. The shell ornament and coral insert were found separated from one another; it was on their recovery that it was revealed that the pieces fitted together. A large jade cylinder bead, measuring 50 mm x 10 mm, was also recovered just south of the other ornamental pieces, as well as seventeen lithic flakes weighing 112 grams and one chert uni-face weighing 632 grams. Several marine shell fragments and a redware turkey effigy incensario were also found during the excavation of the Burial 14-01.

Measuring approximately 16 cm across and 14 cm in height, a Late Preclassic bird-effigy-incensario was found during the excavation of Burial 14-01. Preliminarily assessment suggests that the vessel was designed to resemble a turkey. This is implied by the comb on the head as well as general form and posture of the creature. Oriented westward in the burial, the head of the bird is clearly visible on one side of the vessel as it projects downward over the breast of the animal. Three phalanges located around the midsection of the incensario signify the wings and tail of the bird. Both the top and base of the vessel have comparable proportions and are dish shaped. A hole, measuring approximately 70 mm across, penetrates right through the centre of the incensario.

xnohafigure20

xnohafigure22

xnohafigure21

xnohafigure23

Xno’ha Operation 13-02, Sub-operation B – Lots 77, 84, 91 and 97

The excavation of Sub-operation B continued in 2014. The primary objective was the investigation of the sub-floor deposits east of Burial 13-01. Sub-operation B comprised four lots (i.e. Lots 77, 84, 91 and 97) and was excavated to a maximum depth of 175 cm from surface level. Cleaning and close examination of the profiles, immediately adjacent to Burial 13-01, suggest that the burial was intrusive, penetrating the floor in the east of the sub-operation. The excavation of Sub-operation B also revealed a second remnant floor, which occurred at comparable depth as the first-phase-patio-floor found in Sub-operations A and P (see relevant sections).

Lot 77 – Excavation of Remnant Floor

The objective of Lot 77 was to investigate the floor identified during the excavation Lot 3 in 2013 (see MRP Field Report 2013). Occasional chipped stone and ceramic fragments were collected and bagged during the excavation of Lot 77. The remnant floor comprised a compact greyish-brown fine grained silty loam (7.5YR 5/1) with infrequent inclusions of limestone and suspended ballast material ranging in size from 5-40 cm. The floor surface was poorly preserved and extended as far as the eastern edge of the burial cavity located in the west of the sub-operation. The termination of the floor, on the eastern side of the Burial 13-01, indicated that it did not extend across the entire sub-operation and that the burial (like Burial 14-01 in Sub-operation U), penetrated through the remnant floor surface into the supporting construction fill. The intrusive nature of the burial was also evidenced by a concentration of cobble material visible in the southern profile of the sub-operation. Lot 77 reached a maximum depth approximating 105 cm. The depth of the remnant floor was consistent with the level of the floor identified in neighbouring Sub-operation M. The excavation of Lot 77 ceased when a darkening of soil was detected as well as the reappearance of supporting cobble construction fill.

Lot 84 – Sub-floor Construction Fill

The objective of the Sub-operation 84 was to excavate down through the layer of construction fill found underlying a remnant floor on the eastern side of Sub-operation B. Lot 84 comprised a relatively thin layer of limestone and chert ballast suspended a matrix of dark grey-brown silty loam with increasing clay content (munsel 7.5YR 5/1); the relative percentages of cobble and soil were 80% and 20% respectively. Occasional chipped stone artefacts and ceramic fragments were collected and bagged during the excavation of Lot 84. The excavation of Lot 84 reached a maximum depth of 120 cm from surface level and ceased on the identification of a second remnant floor found at a corresponding depth to the first-phase-patio-surface found in Sub-operations A and P (see relevant sections). 

Lot 91- Sub-floor Construction Fill and First Phase Patio

The object Lot 91 was to penetrate the remnant floor that was identified during the excavation of Lots 76 and expose the underlying construction fill. Excavation of Lot 91 revealed a layer of cobble 20-30 cm thick. The absence of large amounts of cobble was the resulted of the floor’s close proximity to bedrock. Infrequent chipped stone and fragmented ceramics were unearthed, collected and bagged during the excavation of Lot 91. The excavation of Lot 91 extended to a maximum depth of 150 cm below surface level and cease following the identification of a layer clayey soils overlying bedrock.

Lot 97 – Clay over Bedrock

The objective of the Sub-operation 97 was to excavate the soil deposit identified during the excavation of Lot 97, which comprised a dark grey-brown loam with high clay content (munsel 2.5YR 4/1). Found to be reasonably free of cobble, the relative percentages of soil and cobble/stone material were 95% and 5% respectively. Occasional chipped stone artefacts and ceramic fragments were collected and bagged during the excavation of Lot 97.  The excavation of Lot 97 ceased at a maximum depth of 175 cm from surface level, once bedrock was reached.

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All images courtesy Maya Research Program, unless otherwise noted.

Acknowledgements:

I would like to thank Tom Guderjan and Colleen Hanratty and all the team for the invaluable support they provided during my stay over MRP field Sessions 3 and 4 2014.  This work would also not have been possible without the efforts of the workers from San Felipe as well as volunteers Fidel Cruz, Kevin Austin, Megan Weldy, Jack Magee, Emily Prichard, Julia Mahr, Shelby Betz, Beth Eraul, Katie Wahler, Mariela Mendoza, Douglas Reithmuller, Romano Derosa, and Chabli Bravo.

 

References

Bozarth, S. R. 2013. Blue Creek 2013 Biosilicate Report: Analysis of Biosilicates and Charred Phytoliths at Chum Balam Na, Nojol Nah, and Xno’ha North western Belize. Department of Geography University of Kansas.

Chase, A. F. and D. Z. Chase. 1992a. Mesoamerican Elites: Assumptions, Definitions, and Models. In Mesoamerican Elites, An Archaeological Assessment, edited by D. Z. Chase and A. F. Chase: 3–17. Norman, University of Oklahoma Press.

González, J.  J. 2003. Cultural Landscapes, Cultural Identity: Settlement at Ixno’Ha, Belize. pages 39-43 Blue Creek Regional Political Ecology Project: 2001 And 2002 Research Summaries, edited by Jon C. Lohse. Maya Research Program, Fort Worth, Texas.

González, J. J, and H Knippe. 2004. Ixno’ha Excavation Report, 2003. Pages 33-52.  Blue Creek Regional Political Ecology Project 2003 Seasonedited by Jon C. Lohse. Maya Research Program, Fort Worth, Texas.

González, Jason J. 2005 2004 Ixno’ha Excavation Report , pages 108-158. In 2004 Season Summaries of the Blue Creek Regional Political Ecology Project, edited by Jon C. Lohse and Kerry L. Sagabiel. Maya Research Program, Fort Worth, Texas.

Guderjan, T and Hanratty. C . 2014.  The 22nd annual report of the Blue Creek Archaeological Project. Maya Research Program, University of Texas at Tyler.

Guderjan, T.H., R. J. Lichtenstein, et al. 2003. Elite Residences at Blue Creek, Belize. In Maya Palaces and Elite Residences: An Interdisciplinary Approach, edited by J. Joyce Christie: 13–45. Austin, University of Texas Press.

Guderjan, T. H. 2007. The Nature of a Maya City: Resources, Interaction and Power at Blue Creek, Belize. University of Alabama Press, Tuscaloosa.

Guderjan T. H. 2013. Archaeological Research Proposal for Blue Creek Nojol Nah, and Xno’ha.

Kanippe, H. and J. J, González. 2003 Small Sites Versus Large Sites: Questioning Maya Political and Economic Settlement Relationships pages 44-49 Blue Creek Regional Political Ecology Project: 2001 And 2002 Research Summaries, edited by Jon C. Lohse. Maya Research Program, Fort Worth, Texas.

Kowalski, J. K. 2003. Evidence for the Functions and Meanings of some Northern Maya Palaces. In Maya Palaces and Elite Residences: An Interdisciplinary Approach, edited by J. Joyce Christie: 204–253. Austin, University of Texas Press.

Lalonde, D. 2002. Ixno’Ha 2002 Season Excavation Summary pages 50-52. Blue Creek Regional Political Ecology Project: 2001 And 2002 Research Summaries, edited by Jon C. Lohse. Maya Research Program, Fort Worth, Texas.

Marcus, J. 1992b. Royal Families, Royal Texts: Examples from the Zapotec and Maya. In Mesoamerican Elites, An Archaeological Assessment, edited by D. Z. Chase and A. F. Chase: 221–241. Norman, University of Oklahoma Press.

Mead, K., G. Mastropietro  and I. LeMasters. 2014. Pitz Nah Or Ma’ Pitz Nah, That Is The Question – 2013 Excavations at a Purported Ball Court at Xnoha. In The 22nd annual report of the Blue Creek Archaeological Project. Maya Research Program, University of Texas at Tyler.

Parmington, A.  2013.  Excavations Undertaken at Xnoha Building Group 78. In The 22nd annual report of the Blue Creek Archaeological Project. Maya Research Program, University of Texas at Tyler

Plumer, H. 2014. Excavations of a Terminal Classic Courtyard at Xnoha. In The 22nd annual report of the Blue Creek Archaeological Project. Maya Research Program, University of Texas at Tyler.

Preston, T and T Guderjan. 2013. 2012 Excavations at Xno’ha. The 21st annual report of the Blue Creek Archaeological Project. Edited by Thomas H. Guderjan and C. Colleen Hanratty. Maya Research Program, University of Texas at Tyler.

Sanders, W. T. 1992. Ranking and Stratification in Prehispanic Mesoamerica. In Mesoamerican Elites, An Archaeological Assessment, edited by D. Z. Chase and A. F. Chase: 278– 291. Norman, University of Oklahoma Press. Sharer, R. J. 1994. The Ancient Maya [Fifth Edition]. Stanford, California, Stanford University Press.

Schele, L. and P. Mathews. 1998. The Code of Kings: The Language of Seven Sacred Temples and Tombs. New York, Scribner.

Sharer, R. J. 1994. The Ancient Maya [Fifth Edition]. Stanford, California, Stanford University Press

The Early Humans of Cueva Negra

Cueva Negra is 10 km south of Caravaca de la Cruz, lying at 740 m a.s.l. (metres above sea level) and 40 m above the R. Quípar where it flows northwards out of a gorge (“Estrecho”) below the hamlet of La Encarnación (Fig.1). The large rock-shelter contains a noteworthy depth of Pleistocene sediments cursorily explored in 1981 (Martínez-Andreu et al., 1989). It lies in Upper Miocene (Tortonian) sedimentary “biocalcarenite”1 rock on the right-hand side of the narrow gorge through which the R. Quípar Gorge descends before joining the R. Segura, which reaches the Mediterranean Sea 110 km east of the site that nevertheless is but 75 km north of the southern Murcian coast. Systematic excavation began in 1990 and 25 field seasons have taken place. For some years neither the chronology nor the complexity of the Pleistocene geology were understood correctly. Inaccuracies and mistaken interpretations in earlier publications were corrected in the 2013 revision (Walker et al., 2013) that supersedes them all, and significant aspects of it are summarized here (earlier publications cited here are preceded by ! indicating they contain some unreliable information, usually a chronological attribution that is too young, sometimes incorrect faunal assignation, or occasionally a geological error).  

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cuevanegra1Fig. 1: Cueva Negra and its surroundings

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The 5-m-deep Pleistocene sedimentary fill (Fig.2) is assigned by magnetostratigraphy2 to the Matuyama magnetochron2 >0.78 Ma (Scott and Gibert, 2009). Optically-stimulated sediment luminescence3 implies >0.5 Ma and mammalian biochronology indicates >0.7<1 Ma (Walker et al., 2013): e.g., extinct forms of Arvicolid rodents – i.e. voles, field-mice, water-rats, etc. – which became extinct around 0.7 Ma, such as Mimomys savini, Microtus (Iberomys/Terricola/Pitymys) huescarensis huescarensis, Pliomys episcopalism, Allophaiomys (Microtus/Euphaiomys) cf. chalinei, Stenocranius (Microtus) gregaloides; as well as extinct large mammals, among them the extinct Cervids Megaloceros aff. savini (a giant deer) and Dama cf. nestii vallonnetensis (an ancestral form of fallow deer); the extinct Rhinocerotid (i.e. rhino) Stephanorhinus cf. etruscus; the Equid Equus altidens (an extinct horse), etc.: all of them are well-known Pleistocene time-markers of mammalian evolution in western Europe. Sediment micromorphology4 shows the fill represents near-horizontal, gradual, intermittent fluviatile accumulation4 (Angelucci et al., 2013) with no significant horizontal or vertical discontinuities (pace Jiménez-Arias et al., 2011). Mammals, birds (including waterfowl), reptiles and amphibians corroborate pollen (! Carrión et al., 2003) typical of mild (MIS-21?5), damp, fluvio-lacustrine4 environments. Anne Eastham identified more than 60 bird species (! Walker et al., 1998) implying nearby biotopes6 of (1) lakes and rivers with temperate woodland, (2) open mixed woodland, (3) open grassland and heath, and (4) craggy mountainsides. That suggests the site was frequented owing to its well-favoured position in its surroundings with noteworthy biodiversity, though it may have been taken over by birds whenever flooding required mammals to abandon the cave, perhaps seasonally.

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cuevanegra2Fig. 2: Cueva Negra Plan and sections

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Cueva Negra “pre-Neanderthal” (Homo cf. heidelbergensis) teeth (Fig.3) give several measurements (Table 1) out with modern ranges; e.g. large antero-posterior measurement at the neck, or cervix, between crown and root (cervical vestibulo- or bucco-lingual dimension), typical in Neanderthals and archaic humans and often interpreted as a “buttressing” adaptation to using front teeth as a vise. Extreme tooth wear (attrition) of Cueva Negra front teeth, exposing dentine and the pulp- or root canal (rendering lingual crown height unreliable and uninformative) is also typical of Neanderthals and archaic humans, perhaps caused by using front teeth as a vise; in modern humans tooth wear and exposure of dentine occurs mostly on crowns of back teeth, only rarely on front teeth. One incisor tooth crown has a “shovel” form (a broad vertical scoop) on its internal (lingual) surface; “shoveling” is common on Neanderthal incisors. A canine tooth with occlusal attrition that exposed the pulp canal has a root that is much longer than in modern humans though comparable in length with some Neanderthal canines (e.g. from Grotte d’Hortus).

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cuevanegra3Fig. 3: Cueva Negra with hand-axe and teeth

 

Table 1

Cueva Negra fossil human teeth by type, metre-square, layer and spit (right), and measurements taken (below)

 

Left mandibular

permanent

lateral

incisor 

B1i (1)

left maxillary permanent lateral incisor

B2f (1-2)

left maxillary

permanent

canine

C3e(2c)

right

mandibular

permanent

anterior

premolar

C2e(3ñ)

Right

maxillary

permanent

anterior

premolar

C1a (1-2)

Anterior permanent

tooth root C4g(2c)

incisoapical height

23.0 mm

25.2 mm

27.2 mm

21.9 mm

22.9 mm

no crown

mesiodistal crown dimensión

 5.7 mm

 7.6 mm

 7.0 mm

11.8 mm

  6.2 mm

no crown

buccolingual crown dimensión

 7.9 mm

 9.6 mm

 7.8 mm

 8.0 mm

  7.6 mm

no crown

buccal crown height

 7.7 mm

 9.6 mm

 8.2 mm

 9.4 mm

10.4 mm

no crown

lingual crown height

 6.1 mm

 unreliable

unreliable

unreliable

Unreliable

no crown

buccal height of root

15.3 mm

 7.9 mm

19.0 mm

14.3 mm

14.6 mm

 22.5 mm

mesiodistal dimension at neck

 5.4 mm

 5.8 mm

 6.5 mm

 4.6 mm

  5.5 mm

  7.3 mm

buccolingual dimension at neck

 

 7.7 mm

 7.8 mm

 8.0 mm

 7.7 mm

  7.0 mm

  8.1 mm

maximal mesiodistal dimension of root

 5.0 mm

 5.3 mm

 5.3 mm

 3.7 mm

  5.0 mm

  5.5 mm

maximal buccolingual dimension of root

 8.3 mm

 8.7 mm

 8.0 mm

 6.5 mm

  6.9 mm

  7.6 mm

        Table 1

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The most important findings at Cueva Negra concern human activity. Two aspects are of especial interest. First, undoubted evidence of fire has been uncovered (Fig.4), sealed within a 4.5 m-deep layer of sediment 5 m back from the present entrance, perhaps still further back 0.8 Ma if rock overhanging the entrance has undergone erosion since then. Thin-section micromorphology suggests combustion of sediment (Angelucci et al., 2013) and recent geochemical analysis supports that. Since 2011 excavation has yielded both thermally-altered, lustreless chert, with pot-lid fractures and conjoined splintering caused by thermal shock to both nodules and artificially-struck flakes, and also charred burnt animal bone and white calcined fragments showing conjoined lengthwise long-bone spalling typical of circumferential shrinkage after thermal volatilization of organic components (Walker et al., 2013). Recent taphonomical analysis and electron microscopy of bone fragments attribute discolouration to burning, not to post-depositional mineral staining, and both Fourier Transform infrared spectroscopy and electron spin resonance analysis of chert and bone imply firing temperatures ca. 550ºC (Walker et al., in preparation).

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cuevanegra4Fig. 4: Cueva Negra deep layer with thermally altered remains

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A fire-place is not a hearth. The Cueva Negra humans could have brought glowing brands left by a forest fire into the cave to establish and tend a fire where rain or wind would not put it out. They may well have been less afraid of fire outside than other animals they saw fleeing from it (which could have led them to play with fire in order to drive animals towards natural death-traps, such as swamps, enabling dismemberment and roasting). This does not mean they could reproduce or control fire; there is a dearth of archaeological evidence for hearths or fire-pits before 0.5 Ma.

Nevertheless, fire at ca. 0.8 Ma supported hominin cognitive versatility, techno-manual dexterity, and palaeoeconomic extractive behaviour in long-vanished Western European palaeoecological and palaeobiogeographical contexts. Cueva Negra exemplifies those aspects; Palaeolithic finds imply resources were exploited as far away as 40 km downstream and 30 km upstream from the site (Zack et al., 2013). That range is unsurprising given that ≥1.3 Ma early humans had begun migrating into Western Europe from northern Africa or western Asia, and therefore they could not have been congenital stick-in-the-muds even though, plausibly, their preferred habitats were localities with abundant biodiversity at hand (cf. ! Walker et al., 2006).  

The excavated Palaeolithic assemblage includes a bifacially-flaked “Acheulian” limestone hand-axe, though it mostly consists of small chert, limestone or quartzite artifacts (<60 mm long), knapped on site, often by bipolar reduction or repetitive centripetal flaking of small discoidal (“Levallois”) cores, and often showing marginal retouch that is mainly steep-angle (>50º) and sometimes abrupt (“Mousteroid”), and very occasionally invasive or semi-invasive low-angle (<30º)  (from the hand-axe to very small chert flakes <30 mm long). Serrated, notched or denticulate edges occur, and pieces bearing one or two large notches are common. Some flakes and several flattish or laminar subrectangular fragments were knapped to give steep abrupt (“Mousteroid”) edge-retouch (Fig.5). Steep retouch on a piece of flattish laminar chert can transform its perpendicular edge to give an acute angle useful for cutting or scraping. It is plausible to see that as being very different indeed from abrupt retouch of “scrapers” in most Mousterian assemblages where steep retouch applied to thin feathered flakes could spare them from accidental breakage by snapping during use or may have been applied to resharpen a cutting tool. Well-formed feathered flakes with striking platforms and bulbs of percussion are fairly uncommon at Cueva Negra, whereas small fragments of laminar chert abound. Many of the small artifacts seem to have much in common with those from the penecontemporaneous Catalan site of Vallparadís (Martínez et al., 2010) and from the Italian site of Isernia La Pineta, rather than with assemblages ≥1 Ma from Atapuerca and Orce.

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cuevanegra5Fig. 5: Cueva Negra Palaeolithic artifacts

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From a descriptive viewpoint of stone-knapping techniques the assemblage may be called “Acheulo-Levalloiso-Mousteroid” (! Walker et al., 2006; Walker et al., 2013; Zack et al., 2013); this descriptive techno-methodological approach can be uncoupled, viewed epistemologically, from prescriptive ontological typologies influenced by relative chronological inferences drawn tautologically from conjectural “culture history” and pseudo-evolutionary conjectures about Palaeolithic technology.

           Once freed from the dead hand of traditional perspectives, other aspects of the assemblage come to the fore. Several small retouched artifacts seem to fall into overlapping groups, in contrast to some other Spanish Early Pleistocene assemblages that have been called “Oldowan” due to perceived similarity to African ones; the term is inappropriate at Cueva Negra because, unlike typically Oldowan artifacts in Africa, nearly all those excavated at Cueva Negra are <60 mm in size. Steep retouch is seen on many pointed pieces; some are flattish pieces and could be regarded as fine points, “awls”, or “perforators”, whereas others resemble thick “Tayac points” described often in Middle and early Late Pleistocene European assemblages. Pointed artifacts include “becs”, small chunks of chert from each of which there projects incongruously a delicate elongated tiny spur, or “beak” (fancifully bringing to mind a small bird head with its beak). There are also many steeply-keeled fragments; some resemble steep scrapers on short stumpy cores, whereas others, knapped into elongated keeled planoconvex shapes resembling garden slugs (“limaces”) may be called “proto-limaces”. Beaks and slugs could be interpreted as convergent steep scrapers, or where both ends are pointed they could be envisaged as thick double points. However, researchers at 0.7 Ma Isernia La Pineta argue that its beaks and slugs are what were left behind after their reduction by bipolar knapping to remove extremely small flakes used as unretouched tools, backing their argument up with microscopical use-wear analysis and experimental knapping (Crovetto, 1994; Crovetto et al., 1994; Peretto, 1994; Peretto et al., 2004).

Flakes produced by bipolar knapping occur at Cueva Negra, though they are yet to be quantified because quantification of bipolar elements depends on whether carinated pieces with notches, spurs (beaks) and planoconvex double-ended slug-shaped pieces, were outcomes, first and foremost, of bipolar core-reduction to remove usable flakes, or whether, instead, they were primarily fashioned intentionally for use as implements themselves. The two possibilities need not be mutually exclusive because comparable pieces have been interpreted as implements, sometimes supported by microscopical use-wear analysis; an extensive literature exists with references to “limaces”, “becs” and “microperforators” from Pleistocene and Holocene lithic assemblages in Europe, Africa, and North and South America.

         Most Cueva Negra artifacts are “expedient”, frequently of “informal” shape, implying “opportunistic” or “eclectic” technological behaviour. They bring to mind the different blades of a Swiss knife. It is perhaps unsurprising that retouch is seen as often on stone fragments as on well-made flakes struck from prepared discoidal cores by recurrent repetitive centripetal flaking, given that at 0.8 Ma secant-plane control of knapping was in its infancy worldwide. It should be borne in mind that such cores are known from 1.3 Ma in Africa (de la Torre et al., 2004) where hand-axes have even greater antiquity (1.7 Ma) and that both of these involved bifacial flaking albeit with different formal secant-plane implications (asymmetrical and symmetrical, respectively), though more eclectic informal (“Oldowan”) tool-making continued alongside them. Extraction of regular flakes by recurrent repetitive centripetal flaking of prepared discoidal cores is demanding in both cognitive and technical terms (Coolidge and Wynn, 2005); the putative flakes are, as it were, “hidden” from view (like the yolk inside a hen’s egg, so to speak), and “unimaginable” simply from looking at the external shape of the stone before the reduction sequence begins. Evidence at Cueva Negra of both bifacial hand-axe production and recurrent repetitive centripetal flaking of prepared discoidal cores, together with a diverse range of small artifacts, implies manual dexterity, technical aptitude and cognitive versatility.  

        This raises the question of how those who frequented Cueva Negra 0.8 Ma ago perceived and exploited their surroundings, particularly where they obtained raw materials for stone tools. Two different matters are relevant. First, how far were the different possibilities of different rocks perceived? Secondly, were outcrops available then that nowadays afford suitable stone?

         The hand–axe shows 30 fresh bifacial extractions on a flattish limestone cobble with some cortex still present and a similar cobble had 15 unifacial fresh extractions along one side. Both probably were obtained from fluvio-lacustrine gravels, though X-ray diffraction and petrography indicate that their grey-blue micritic limestone (94% calcite; 6% quartz) originated in Lower Jurassic (Lias) rocks (! Walker et al., 2006). An unworked cobble from Cueva Negra is a dismicrite containing 10% quartz, radiolarian fragments, and filamentous planctonic fragments, characteristic of Middle Jurassic (Dogger) strata. Lower and Middle Jurassic beds are exposed in mountainsides upstream from the site. Another unworked limestone cobble from the site lacks quartz, being oolitic sparite (oosparite). Two limestone cobbles from a small conglomerate outcrop 0.8 km east of the site also lack quartz, one being composed of cryptocrystalline limestone pellets of organic faecal origin, the other of sparite cement with microscopical fossils.

The aforementioned conglomerate outcrop is an Upper Miocene (Tortonian) marine conglomerate, containing complete Ostreid and Pectinid sea-shell fossils (i.e. oysters and scallops), that formed as an inshore deposit of Tethys Sea1 of cobbles and stones eroded out of the nearby mountainside and later cemented by CaC03 when intense Upper Pliocene and Early Pleistocene neotectonic activity lifted up the mountains and their erstwhile sea-shore to its present height of 750 m a.s.l. (the Tortonian strata dip strongly to the SW and 0.8 km away lie at 730 m a.s.l. below Cueva Negra; the steep dip was not taken into account in some early publications, leading to mistaken interpretations). The cemented cobbles and stones are of limestone, chert and quartzite; several were taken at Cueva Negra and at the outcrop Palaeolithic artifacts have been picked up similar to those of the rock-shelter, including a small prepared discoidal chert core. The chert raw material includes eroded frangible tabular nodules derived from chert blocks or slabs of sub-parallele-piped shape. They are best described as “fissible” (Stein, 1981: 537) because hammering on them often fails to elicit conchoidal fractures or produce feathered flakes with well-developed convex bulbs of percussion. If hammering does not simply shatter the chert blocks into very small chips and fragments, it may split them open along fissible flat planes defined by internal structure or impurities, and produce flattish sub-rectangular laminar fragments available for modifying as tools.

Loose chert cobbles and blocks (some upto 0.3 m across weighing 5 kg) abound <5 km south of Cueva Negra from 770 up to 890 m a.s.l. on the flanks of mountains from whose crags of Jurassic limestone chert was eroded. Massive continental lateral erosion took place in the Upper Pleistocene and initial Pleistocene, leaving high-altitude vestiges of an erstwhile vast gravel spread 100-120 m thick (“raña”; “glacis”) containing conglomerate bands, the base of which lies ca. 45 m above the river today (Walker et al., 2013; Zack et al., 2013). Later on, much of that ancient gravel was displaced both laterally and longitudinally and redeposited, owing to ongoing Early Pleistocene erosion induced by falling base level as uplift continued. The process gave rise, in two or perhaps three depositional cycles, to horizontally-bedded outcrops of gravels and fluvio-lacustrine conglomerate that abound at relative heights of 5-25 m above the river today. These outcrops often include noteworthy fossil vestiges of local lakes. The matter is complicated by unequal uplift of the sides of the active longitudinal shear fault along which the R. Quípar runs (unequal uplift saved the Cueva Negra sediments from riverine erosion), and by unequal spatiotemporal activity of those faults normal to it which probably determined development or drainage of hanging lakes upstream in the upper Quípar valley (where it is called the Rambla de Tarragoya). In short, there is a wealth of possible secondary or even tertiary sources of eroded Jurassic chert, but just which were available to Cueva Negra chert-knappers called out for forensic research.

There are also a few small primary chert outcrops. One is of radiolarite ca. 40 km downstream from the rock-shelter where a radiolarite scraper was found in 2013. Another is of light-brown tabular chert at Río Caramel, a tributary of the R. Guadalentín that joins the R. Segura near Murcia; the upper Quípar is separated by a watershed from the Guadalentín river system. It has not been possible yet to determine whether light-brown chert at Cueva Negra came from the outcrop. At high altitude on the watershed itself there is a very small outcrop of biogenic chert that probably formed in a freshwater Pliocene lake, which has the unusual frondose cactus-like form not unlike that of East African Lake Magadi flint; at least one flake at Cueva Negra may well have come from the outcrop. Primary chert outcrops seem not to have been exploited intensively.  

Most Cueva Negra chert originated in Jurassic rock strata, albeit obtained from secondary or even tertiary gravel or conglomerate accumulations. Which ones? Petrographically the cherts look much alike. Might help come from chemical finger-printing of chert? Thanks to collaboration with the University of Arizona help came from the laser-ablation inductively-coupled plasma mass-spectrometry of trace elements present in several of the Earth’s crustal rocks (Sc, V, Cr, Co, Zn, Ga, Ge, Rb, Sr, Y, Zr, Nb, Cs, Ba, La, Ce, Pr, Nd, Sm). Chert samples were taken from a number of outcrops for comparison with chert from Cueva Negra (Zack et al., 2013).

Multivariate factorial analysis of the data show most chert fragments analyzed from Cueva Negra resemble chert sampled at the Tortonian conglomerate 0.8 km to the east (Fig.6). A few Cueva Negra fragments more closely resemble samples from fluvio-lacustrine gravel outcrops upstream in the Rambla de Tarragoya as far as the headwaters of the valley (where we even picked up a “proto-limace”) ca. 25 km south of the site. Plausibly, variation in trace-element composition cherts that had formed at separate localities or times in the Jurassic is reflected in compositional differences between outcrops of gravels that received chert nodules eroded from the mountainsides nearest by. Some of those cherts were taken to Cueva Negra. Trace-element characterization indicates how far humans ranged.

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cuevanegra6Fig. 6: Upper Quipar Valley Cueva Negra CNERQ and chart outcrops sampled

 

 

Research at Cueva Negra throws new light, including fire-light, on the cognitive versatility, manual dexterity and technical aptitude of early humans ca. 0.8 Ma in S.E. Spain. They exploited their surroundings in a competent fashion that implies precise knowledge and accurate awareness of what was available for survival. Research continues both in the field and laboratory at this intriguing late Early Pleistocene site.          

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Acknowledgements:

We thank all research collaborators named in the text or references as well as palaeontologists Drs. A. Ruiz Bustos, J. van der Made, X. Murélaga Beirucua and archaeologists Drs. D.A. Roe and I. Martín-Lerma for their kind help.

 

Footnotes:

1. This biocalcarenite rock is an Upper Miocene (Tortonian) sedimentary rock that formed between 11 and 7.5 million years ago in the bed of the vast Tethys Sea that extended from the Atlantic Ocean to the Persian Gulf (the Mediterranean Sea is all that remains of it). The rock is called biocalcarenite because it contains sand-size grains and fragments of sea-shells and coral, all cemented by calcium carbonate. It forms the floor, walls, and roof of Cueva Nega though these lack the cobbles and large pebbles that are found in more deeply lying, slightly older, Tortonian strata at a conglomerate outcrop 0.8 km E of the cave which was exploited by its Palaeolithic occupants who took cobbles to the cave and broke them open to knap the chert that some of them contained.

2. Magnetostratigraphy is the use of “geomagnetic reversals to correlate rock strata that have been dated accurately by other means at some places. It relies on palaeomagnetic signatures of remanent magnetism in rocks, which may be based on metals (such as iron) in volcanic rocks, or on the orientation of magnetic minerals in grains in sedimentary deposits, which was the basis for the palaeomagnetic research into the Cueva Negra Pleistocene sediments. Some history is in order here. In 1906 the French geophysicist Bernard Brunhes drew attention to the phenomenon we call “geomagnetic reversal”, after finding that an ancient volcanic rock was magnetized in the opposite direction to the Earth’s present-day magnetic field. For that to have happened, he inferred that the magnetic North Pole would have to have been near to what we regard as the magnetic South Pole today, implying that our planet’s magnetic field had undergone a reversal. In 1929 the Japanese geophysicist Motonori Matuyama published findings that began to show that different reversals of the direction (“polarity”) of the Earth’s magnetic field characterize different parts of the geological stratigraphical record, and in particular that the part which we nowadays regard as the Early Pleistocene (formerly, Lower Pleistocene) was characterized by a reversal of the polarity of our planet’s magnetic field. We now know that this reversal lasted from 2.588 to 0.78 Ma: that period is called the Matuyama reverse polarity chron and it was followed by the Brunhes normal polarity chron from 0.78 Ma to the present day; the 0.78 Ma reversal is called the Matuyama-Brunhes boundary. The Matuyama chron was interrupted by a few normal polarity episodes (two important ones are named after geological beds at Olduvai and Jaramillo). The Gauss normal polarity chron mainly characterized the Upper Pliocene between 3.59 and 2.588 Ma (3.6-2.6 Ma for most intents and purposes). A few hundred reversals now are known to have taken place during the history of our planet. All of the Cueva Negra sediment corresponds to the end of the Matuyama chron, according to the results of a study of the palaeomagnetism of 11 samples taken from top to bottom of the 5 m depth of its sedimentary fill and a further 2 taken in the escarpment below the cave mouth where sediment is exposed by erosion.

3. Optically-stimulated luminscence (OSL) dating of sediment grains attempts to estimate the time elapsed since the grains were last exposed to heat (e.g. sunlight) that destabilized the chemical make-up of minerals (e.g. quartz), which over time, at a known rate, recovers part of the stability that was disturbed. If several mineral grains are used for OSL, there is a risk that some may have been exposed to light or heat at later times than others were, thereby underestimating the age of a sedimentary deposit, and this problem may have affected the OSL dates obtained on multiple-grain samples analyzed at Oxford University by Dr. Jean-Luc Schwenninger, who has made three visits to sample Cueva Negra sediments, which suggested an age of 0.3-0.4 Ma when the less reliable multiple-grain method was applied, and more recently an age of at least 0.5 Ma using single-grain analysis (Schwenninger, personal communication). Unfortunately, the time and cost involved in undertaking accelerator mass-spectrometry when single grains are used, and the obvious need to analyze several of these independently, hinder widespread application of this approach. The method is related to that of thermoluminescence, TL, that has been used to date pottery and even burnt flint for the past fifty years, often with considerable success. Dr. Schwenninger is trying to apply it to burnt chert from Cueva Negra. Put crudely, if the amount of recovery towards stability can be determined, and if also we have a fair idea of what the original firing temperature was likely to have been, then by refiring in the laboratory at that temperature a handmade prehistoric potsherd, the full degree of that ancient destabilization of physicochemical constituents of atoms in clay molecules can be reproduced, and hence, from the amount of energy we have applied in order to do so, it is possible to estimate how much time had elapsed since the original firing. Much is known about the effect on different clays caused by varying the temeprature of the potter’s kiln. The matter gets far more complicated, alas, where chert or flint underwent burning in a bonfire of unknown heat. Luckily, at Cueva Negra the burnt chert comes from a deeply-lying lens of burnt sediment containing white burnt animal bones that had undergone calcination (i.e. all organic matter in them had been burnt out), which implies heating at high temperature according to knowledge from Forensic Biology. A high temperature implies humans were tending fire in the cave, because, so far inside the cave, it is unlikely a passing bush fire could have produced it. Research into the temperature, using the method of Fourier Transform infrared spectrometry (FTIRS) on the calcined bone, is being undertaken now, with promising initial results, by geoarchaeologist Dr. Francesco Berna at Simon Fraser University, and also by Dr. Anne Skinner using electron spin resonance at Williams College at Williamstown. Their preliminary findings point to a temperature of around 550ºC.

4 Sediment micromorphology is a “geoarchaeological” technique which uses the microscope to study thin-sections of sediment samples that have been removed on site with accuracy and precision and then hardened with an impregnating agent. Microscopy can determine the size and shape of granules in the sediment, and may ascertain whether some were deposited by “fluviatile” processes, i.e. by flowing water in streams or rivers, by more sluggishly moving water in lakes or swamps (“fluvio-lacustrine”), by wind “aeolian” deposition, by volcanic ash, by organic disturbance by roots, worm-holes, or other animal activities, including human ones, etc.. It can also determine the nature of granules, whether the minerals themselves or inclusions such as small fossils, fragments of bones, shells, plants, flecks of charcoal, or even minute fragments of artifacts such as chert knapping smalls or tiny fragments of potsherds. The word “micromorphology” refers to the study of the structure or form of the sediment, which is particularly important because there may be vertical or horizontal gradations in the phenomena observed, or regular distributions may be interrupted by irregularities. Much, of course, is known about the structure of different soils and the processes underlying their formation today, but sediment micromorphology has to consider how sediments developed in long-vanished environments and climates, and knowledge of geology is fundamental in geoarchaeology.

 5 Biotope refers to an area of uniform environmental conditions providing a living place for a specific assemblage or community of plants and animals. (Greek: bios = life, topos = place).

6. MIS: In the 1960’s it was found that, as igneous rocks in the bed of the ocean floor spread out from volcanically active vents in central ridges beneath the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, they may come to lie in the position of zonal bands, formed sequentially over time, that lie parallel to a ridge. They can offer us information about geomagnetic reversals in the polarity of the planet’s magnetic field at the time they were extruded from the Earth’s molten core. The atomic clock can be used to date many of them when they have been sampled by deep-sea cores. Furthermore, the cores shed light on the density of the sea-water around the time they were formed. This is because, by analyzing the proportion of 16O to 18O isotopes in the calcium-carbonate exoskeletons of marine foraminifers (which are protozoan life-forms), in marine sediments that formed over each new zonal band, it is possible to determine the extent to which sea-water was diluted by freshwater from melting ice-caps in warm interglacial periods, or concentrated during cold glacial periods when water with the lighter oxygen isotope was drawn up preferentially into the atmosphere and then deposited elsewhere as snow and ice, and the 40K-40A  or  40A-39A “atomic clocks” help to date the palaeoclimatic oscillations. Those scientific advances, together with isotopic studies of ice from cores through the Greenland and Antarctic ice sheets, have given increasingly accurate information about the number and timing of palaeoclimatic fluctuations during the Pleistocene, when they became both relatively frequent and increasingly intense when compared with the preceding geological epochs of the Pliocene and Miocene, though others had occurred several times in our planet’s more distant past. They are designated variously as MIS or OIS, standing respectively for marine or oxygen isotope stages. Working backwards from the present interglacial (MIS-1 or OIS-1), odd numbers are used for interglacials, and even numbers for ice ages, with the slightly awkward exception of the last ice age which for various reasons, including a possible climatic amelioration, comprises stages 2, 3 and 4; thus the last interglacial period, between 0.13 and 0.118 Ma, is MIS-5 or OIS-5 (not MIS-3 or OIS-3). Biochronology and pollen analysis at ancient Pleistocene sites can give a general idea about the prevailing climatic conditions, which were mild and moist when sediments accunmulated in Cueva Negra. They imply a warm interglacial period, perhaps one that occurred about 0.8 Ma (MIS-21 or OIS-21), the tenth before the present one we are living in today. Rodent biochronology at Cueva Negra implies a time later than the end, at 0.99 Ma, of the Jaramillo normal polarity episode (1.06-0.99 Ma), in the later part of the Matuyama chron, because rodent species known in southern Spain from before that episode are not present at our site.

 

Legends to figures:

Fig. 1 Cueva Negra del Estrecho del Río Quípar in its surroundings.

Fig. 2 Cueva Negra del Estrecho del Río Quípar: Plan and sections.

Fig. 3 Cueva Negra del Estrecho del Río Quípar: Hand-axe, human teeth.

Fig. 4 Cueva Negra del Estrecho del Río Quípar: Deep layer with thermally altered remains.

Fig. 5 Cueva Negra del Estrecho del Río Quípar: Palaeolithic artifacts.

Fig. 6 Cueva Negra del Estrecho del Río Quípar in the Upper Quipar Valley with chert outcrops shown.

 

References:

Walker, M.J., Angelucci, D., Anesin, D., Berna, F., Fernández-Jalvo, Y., Haber-Uriarte, M., López-Martínez, M., Rhodes, S.E., Rodríguez-Estrella, T., Schwenninger, J-L., and Skinner, A.R. Evidence of Early Palaeolthic fire at the late Early Pleistocene site of Cueva Negra del Estrecho del Río Quípar (Caravaca de la Cruz, Murcia, Spain). In preparation for Session B53 The Archaeology of Early Fire Use, XVII UISPP Congress, Burgos. September 1-7 2014.

Angelucci, D., Anesin, D., López-Martínez, M., Haber-Uriarte, M., Rodríguez-Estrella, T., Walker, M.J., 2013. Rethinking stratigraphy and site formation of the Pleistocene deposit at Cueva Negra del Estrecho del Río Quípar (Caravaca de la Cruz, Spain). Quaternary Science Reviews 80: 195-199.

! Carrión, J.S., Yll, E.I., Walker, M.J., Legaz, A.J., Chain, C., López, A., 2003. Glacial refugia of temperate, Mediterranean and Ibero-North African flora in south-eastern Spain: new evidence from cave pollen at two Neanderthal man sites. Global Ecology and Biogeography12: 119-129.

Coolidge, F.L. and Wynn, T., 2005. Working memory, its executive functions, and the emergence of modern thinking. Cambridge Archaeological Journal 15: 5-26.

Crovetto, C., 1994, Le industrie litiche, analisi tecnico-tipologica dei reperti di scavo, in Peretto, C. (Ed.), Le Industrie Litiche del Giacimento Paleolitico di Isernia La Pineta, la Tipologia, le Tracce di Utilizzazione, la Sperimentazione, Isernia, Cosmo Iannone, “Istituto Regionale per gli Studi Storici del Molise ‘V. Cuoco’”, pp. 183-353.      .

Crovetto, C., Ferrari, M., Peretto, C., Longo, L., Vianello, F., 1994. The carinated denticulates from the Palaeolithic site of Isernia La Pineta (Molise, Central Italy): tools or flaking waste? The results of the 1993 lithic experiments. Human Evolution 9: 175-207.

de la Torre, I., Mora, R., Domínguez-Rodrigo, M., de Luque, L., Alcalá, L., 2003. The Oldowan industry of Peninj and its bearing on the reconstruction of the technological skills of Lower Pleistocene hominids. Journal of Human Evolution 44: 203-224.

Jiménez-Arenas, J.M., Santonja, M., Botella, M., Palmqvist, P., 2011. The oldest handaxes in Europe: fact or artefact? Journal of Archaeological Science 38: 3340-3349.

Martínez, K., García, J., Carbonell, E., Agustí, J., Bahain, J.-J., Blain, H.-A., Burjachs, F., Cáceres, I., Duval, M., Falguères, C., Gómez, M., Huguet, R., 2010. A new Lower Pleistocene archaeological site in Europe (Vallparadís, Barcelona, Spain). Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences 107: 5262-5267.

Martínez-Andreu, M., Montes-Bernárdez, R., San Nicolás-del Toro, M., 1989. Avance al estudio del yacimiento musteriense de la Cueva Negra de La Encarnación (Caravaca, Murcia), in Crónica XIX Congreso Nacional de Arqueología, Castellón de la Plana 1987, Ponencias y Comunicaciones Volumen I,  Saragossa, Universidad de Zaragoza, Seminario de Arqueología, Secretariado de los Congresos Arqueológicos Nacionales, “Congresos Arqueológicos Nacionales”, pp. 973-983.

Peretto, C. (Ed.), 1994, Le Industrie Litiche del Giacimento Paleolitico di Isernia La Pineta, la Tipologia, le Tracce di Utilizzazione, la Sperimentazione, Isernia, Cosmo Iannone, “Istituto Regionale per gli Studi Storici del Molise ‘V. Cuoco’”.

Peretto, C., Arzarello, M., Gallotti, R., Lembo, G., Minelli, A., Hohenstein, U.T., 2004. Middle Pleistocene behavioural strategies: the contribution of Isernia La Pineta (Molise, Italy), in Baquedano, E., Rubio Jara, S. (Eds.), Miscelánea en homenaje a Emiliano Aguirre Volumen IV Arqueología, Alcalá de Henares, Museo Arqueológico Regional, “Zona Arqueológica Número 4”, pp. 368-381.

Scott, G.R. and Gibert, L., 2009. The oldest hand-axes in Europe, Nature 461: 82-85.

Stein, J. (Ed.), 1981. Random House Dictionary of the English Language The Unabridged Edition, New York, Random House, p. 537.

Walker, M.J., Angelucci, D., Anesin, D., Berna, F., Fernández-Jalvo, Y., Haber-Uriarte, M., López-Martínez, M., Rhodes, S.E., Rodríguez-Estrella, T., Schwenninger, J-L., and Skinner, A.R. Evidence of Early Palaeolthic fire at the late Early Pleistocene site of Cueva Negra del Estrecho del Río Quípar (Caravaca de la Cruz, Murcia, Spain). In preparation for Session B53 The Archaeology of Early Fire Use, XVII UISPP Congress, Burgos. September 1-7 2014.

! Walker, M.J., Gibert, J., Sánchez, F., Lombardi, A.V., Serrano, I., Eastham, A., Ribot, F., Arribas, A., Sánchez-Cabeza, J-A., García-Orellana, J., Gibert, L., Albaladejo, S., Andreu, J.A., 1998. Two SE Spanish middle palaeolithic sites with Neanderthal remains: Sima de las Palomas del Cabezo Gordo and Cueva Negra del Estrecho del Río Quípar (Murcia province). Internet Archaeology5 (autumn/winter 1998) http://intarch.ac.uk/journal/issue5/walker_index.html

! Walker, M.J., Rodríguez-Estrella, T., Carrión García, J.S., Mancheño-Jiménez, M-A., Schwenninger, J-L., López-Martínez, M., López-Jiménez, A., San Nicolás-del Toro, M., Hills, M.D., Walkling, T., 2006. Cueva Negra del Estrecho del Río Quípar (Murcia, Southeast Spain): An Acheulian and Levalloiso-Mousteroid assemblage of Palaeolithic artifacts excavated in a Middle Pleistocene faunal context with hominin skeletal remains. Eurasian Prehistory 4: 3-43.

 Walker, M.J, López-Martínez, M.V., Carrión-García, J.S., Rodríguez-Estrella, T., San-Nicolás-del-Toro, M., Schwenninger, J-L., López-Jiménez, A., Ortega-Rodrigáñez, J., Haber-Uriarte, M., Polo-Camacho, J-L., García-Torres, J., Campillo-Boj, M., Avilés-Fernández, A., Zack, W., 2013. Cueva Negra del Estrecho del Río Quípar (Murcia, Spain): A late Early Pleistocene hominin site with an “Acheulo-Levalloiso-Mousteroid” Palaeolithic assemblage. Quaternary International 294: 135-159.

Zack, W., Andronikov, A., Rodríguez-Estrella, T., López-Martínez, M., Haber-Uriarte, M., Holliday, V., Lauretta, D., Walker, M.J., 2013. Stone procurement and transport at the late Early Pleistocene site of Cueva Negra del Estrecho del Río Quípar (Murcia, SE Spain). Quartär,  Internationales Jahrbuch zur Eiszeitalter- und Steinzeitforschung, International Yearbook for Ice Age and Stone Age Research  60: 7-28.

 

Michael Walker*, Mariano López-Martínez**, María Haber-Uriarte***

© All rights reserved.

*Department of Zoology and Physical Anthropology, Biology Faculty, Murcia University, Espinardo Campus Universitario Edificio 20, 30100 Murcia, Spain.

Email: [email protected]; [email protected]; “M.J.Walker” <[email protected]>  Tel: 34-620-267104

**Calle Pintor Joaquín 10-4º-I, 30009 Murcia, Spain.

Email: [email protected]  Tel: 34-630-408806

***Department of Prehistory, Archaeology, Ancient History, Mediaeval History and Historiographical Techniques and Science, Faculty of Letters, Murcia University, La Merced Campus, Calle Santo Cristo 1, 30001 Murcia, Spain.

Email: [email protected]; [email protected], “María Haber” <[email protected]> Tel: 629-756183

Directors of the excavation, Murcian Association for the Study of Palaeoanthropology and the Quaternary, MUPANTQUAT web-site http:www.mupantquat.com (Murcia Archaeological Museum, Avenida Alfonso X El Sabio 7, 30008 Murcia, Spain), all correspondence to MUPANTQUAT Secretary M.López Martínez <[email protected]>), and

Murcia University Experimental Sciences Research Group E005-11 “Quaternary Palaeoecology, Palaeoanthropology and Technology” (c/o Dr.J.S.Carrión García, Department of Plant Biology (Botany), Biology Faculty, Murcia University, Espinardo Campus Edificio 20, 30100 Murcia, Spain)

The Neanderthals of Sima de las Palomas

The Sima de las Palomas vertical cave system was formed by karst solution of a Triassic marble hill in present-day Spain overlooking the Mediterranean. In 1991, a speleologist descending the 18-m deep entrance shaft (Fig.1) extracted a fossil (designated SP1) which, once the cemented breccia was removed, comprised Neanderthal maxillae connected to the mandible, with almost all their adult teeth. Subsequent systematic excavation (Walker et al., 2012a) uncovered three undisturbed Neanderthal partial skeletons (SP96, SP92, and a child, SP97) with several skeletal parts in anatomical position (including cranio-mandibular articulation, femoro-pelvic articulation, elbow, rib-cage, vertebral column, shoulder girdle, foot bones, etc.), Mousterian Palaeolithic artifacts, and animal bones (some charred), all lying deeply in a cemented rock tumble within the upper part of an 18-m deep wall of brecciated sediments (Fig. 2) was left exposed by miners after they took out most of the shaft’s sedimentary fill ca. 1900. SP96 and SP97 have crania and mandibles (Figs. 3, 4), unlike SP92. Because SP1 had lain near SP92 it might be SP92’s head. Excavation uncovered SP96 lying with elbows flexed and hands touching the forehead. Computer-assisted tomography revealed hand-bones in breccia adhering to the forehead of the SP97, identified as a child (Walker et al., 2012b), which lay underneath SP96, an adult, perhaps its parent. The position of the upper extremities implies intentional arrangement before rigor mortis had set in; it is recorded at some other Mousterian sites (Defleur, 1993).

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palomas1Fig. 1: Sima de las Palomas del Cabezo Gordo: Main shaft.

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palomas2Fig. 2: Excavation area A: Mouth of Main Shaft. B: Excavation area C: Base of rock tumble that contained the three Neanderthal skeletons. D: Thin hard conglomerate band beneath which excavation is continuing in layers with Mousterian remains.

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palomas3Fig. 3: Neanderthal adult female skeleton SP96, “Paloma”

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palomas4Fig. 4: Neanderthal child skull SP97 (“Paloma’s child”)

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Individual articulated skeletons are very important indeed because they provide more precise and accurate estimates of body size and proportions than estimates derived from pooled statistical analyses of a given bone type (e.g. femur, tibia, or humerus) from an assemblage of bones from different people who may well not be identifiable individually. SP96 was a short Neanderthal woman (”Paloma”), less than 20 years old, with the typically female wide greater sciatic notch of the pelvic basin which underwent post mortem distortion (that “virtual” reconstruction will correct from tomographs). The skeleton is about 85% complete, which permits precise and accurate morphological measurements for estimating body proportions (e.g. crural index, etc.) which are undoubtedly Neanderthal and robust (“hyperpolar”). Remarkably, its stature is one of the shortest known for Neanderthal adults (Walker et al., 2011a).

The child skeleton, SP97, lay underneath “Paloma” (her child?). Also short in stature, SP92 was probably less than 25 years old (Walker et al., 2011b). Short, too, was the owner of SP77, a femoral head from looser sediment that had banked up against cemented rock tumble and contained scattered Neanderthal remains, including mandibular fragments of a baby, a child, and an adolescent female (Walker et al., 2010a; Walker et al., 2008); this sediment contained lenses with signs of burning. Fragments of three more Neanderthal mandibles were found while sieving rubble left by miners. The Neanderthal finds included many teeth and bone fragments.

In all, at least 9 Neanderthals are represented at the site. The excavated Neanderthal remains correspond to a time about 50,000 years ago; different scientific methods  give estimates implying >40,000-<60,000 (U-series, TL, 14C: for details, see Walker et al., 2012b). Palaeopalynology indicates cool moist conditions though with persistence of species ill-adapted to resist frost (Carrion et al., 2003).

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palomas5Fig. 5: Stratigraphical position of the three articulated Neanderthal skeletons and situations of dated materials and two other Neanderthal mandibles (for further information, see Walker et al., 2012a).

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      Excavated with the SP97 child were the only articulated bones of large animals found at the site so far, viz., two sets of horse ankles (calcaneum, talus, cuboid), one group, cemented by CaCO3 to SP97’s skull, had undergone burning, the other, unburnt, beneath SP97’s trunk, included additionally a distal tibial fragment, and a third horse talus lay underneath SP97. Two leopard metacarpal bones lay near SP97’s skull and two leopard hind-paws, with metatarsal and phalangeal bones in anatomical articulation, lay 0.5 m from SP97’s skull in a similar level. It is unlikely horse ankles and leopard paws were fortuitous accumulations, given absence around SP97 of other body parts of those species. A heavily burnt leopard temporal bone found in mine rubble implies Neanderthal intervention; a large premolar tooth implies presence of cave hyaenas. Flakes and spalls from flint-knapping lay close to SP97. The site has yielded some carefully prepared Levallois points on flat triangular flint flakes with finely-retouched margins, surely effective for hunting with thrusting spears. Flint outcrops are unknown on Cabezo Gordo. Some flint quite likely came from a hydrothermal outcrop inspected ca. 25 km to the south, though it is hardly the source of the bulk of the Palaeolithic assemblage. Despite lack of clear-cut signs of intentional interment, large stones might have been thrown over SP96, SP92 and SP97 to deter leopards and hyaenas from disturbing the corpses. This is a prosaic interpretation.

Rarely are Neanderthal skeletons uncovered in anatomical connection. When animals die their soft parts decompose quickly, aided and abetted by various organisms (carnivorous animals or birds, insects, saprophytic fungi, bacteria, etc.), after which skeletons come apart. Long before they can get buried by natural deposition of sediment, wind and rain may scatter bones where carnivorous animals and birds have failed (exceptionally, skeletons of creatures trapped in caves or swamps escape from being scattered). At Sima de las Palomas three articulated skeletons from 50,000 years ago lay close together. It raises a conjecture that behavioural or cultural impingement occurred, implicating individuals other than the three deceased. Maybe it is an instance of Neanderthals attending to their dead, albeit with a prosaic motive.

The three skeletons and the rock tumble over them lay on a thin bed of extraordinarily hard conglomerate, though it contained some Palaeolithic artifacts and charred bone fragments. Beneath it coarse sediment has been excavated to a depth of 2 m so far, containing many bones of red deer, horse and other herbivores, many of which are charred, as well as rabbits and other small animals, including mandibular fragments of two porcupines (Hystrix brachyura: Rhodes et al., 2013).Tortoise seems to have played a part in the diet (Morales-Pérez and Sanchis-Serra, 2009). Characteristically Mousterian flint artifacts are present. Several smooth rounded cobbles were undoubtedly brought by Neanderthals to the site from stream gravels in the plain below. Being larger than some hammer-stones from the site they might have been used to pound or grind minerals (perhaps haematite; the Cabezo Gordo marble contains veins of magnetite and other iron ores) or foodstuff. Vegetable food at Sima de las Palomas is suggested both by phytoliths discovered in calculus on some Neanderthal teeth (Salazar-García et al., 2013) and two examples of dental caries (Walker et al., 2010b).

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Acknowledgements:

We thank all our research collaborators named in the text or references, but above all Dr. E. Trinkaus for his tireless work. Among our many other collaborators we thank archaeologists Dr. D.A. Roe and I. Martín Lerma, palaeontologist Dr. X. Murélaga Bereicua, and anthracologist Dr. E. Badal García.  

 

Legends to figures:

Fig. 1  Sima de las Palomas del Cabezo Gordo: Main shaft.

Fig. 2 Sima de las Palomas del Cabezo Gordo: Excavation area. A Mouth of Main Shaft. B Excavation area. C Base of rock tumble that contained the three Neanderthal skeletons. D Thin hard conglomerate band beneath which excavation is continuing in layers with Mousterian remains.

Fig. 3 Sima de las Palomas del Cabezo Gordo: Neanderthal adult female skeleton SP96, “Paloma”. SP96 has parts of all skeletal units except feet. Open L (left) greater sciatic notch shows SP96 was female. Full occlusal eruption of L M3 and ventrally unfused sacral bodies, unfused proximal clavicular epiphysis, and partially fused iliac crest, imply death at ≤20 years. All sufficiently-preserved long-bone and manual epiphyses are fused. SP96 skull had undergone crushing with loss of mandibular corpus and posterior, inferior and most of L neurocranium. R (right) facial elements are undistorted, albeit broken and displaced, with 22 teeth cemented into them. Axial skeleton comprises partial lower cervical, upper thoracic, and lumbar vertebrae; 5 sacral bodies; and >6 R ribs cemented to R scapula and clavicle which are complete, as are all 6 upper limb long bones. Metacarpals and manual phalanges are mostly present in anatomical position (some carpals show erosion). Posterior ilum apart, all elements of ossa coxae are present on at least one side, albeit broken, displaced, and cemented. R and L femora and L tibia are almost complete. Only SP96 and La Ferrassie 1 afford reliable adult Neanderthal lengths of all 4 major limb segments, clavicular and scapular lengths, and weight-bearing articular dimensions. SP96 Neanderthal cranial features: lateral supraorbital torus; broad supratoral sulcus; large frontozygomatic suture with columnar frontal process of zygoma; little horizontal angulation of anterolateral zygoma; absent canine fossa; strongly bilevel nasal floor with sharply-angled inferior nasal aperture margin; nasal aperture breadth (30–32 mm) overlapping between Neanderthal and Upper Palaeolithic modern human values; mandible with high R coronoid process; mandibular notch with lowest point closer to condyle; prominent superior medial pterygoid tubercle on ramus; rounded L gonial angle; strongly shovelled I2 with marked labial convexity. Neanderthal postcranial features: strong dorsal sulcus of the right scapula; narrow medial humeral pillar; medially orientated radial tuberosity; subequal pollical phalangeal lengths; ulnar deviation of pollical distal phalanx; elongated superior pubic ramus with thinned ventral margin; absent femoral pilasteric development; rounded convex cross-section of tibial diaphysis; absence of distinct fibular diaphyseal sulci. Aspects of SP96 less common in Neanderthals: nontaurodont teeth; short I1 labial root length (SP19 and SP21 have Neanderthal values); absent opponens pollicis flange on metacarpal 1; manual terminal phalanges of digits 3 and 4 with apical tufts lacking the Neanderthal rounded curve (e.g. SP28) and distinct ungual spines.

Fig. 4  Sima de las Palomas del Cabezo Gordo: Neanderthal child skull SP97 (“Paloma’s child”).

Fig. 5 Sima de las Palomas del Cabezo Gordo: Stratigraphical position of the three articulated Neanderthal skeletons and situations of dated materials and two other Neanderthal mandibles (for further information, see Walker et al., 2012a).

Fig. 6  Sima de las Palomas del Cabezo Gordo: Exploded stratigraphical sections and site plan; the thin hard conglomerate band in Fig. 2D runs across the middle of the sections.

 

References:

Carrión, J.S., Yll, E.I., Walker, M.J., Legaz, A.J., Chain, C., López, A., 2003. Glacial refugia of temperate, Mediterranean and Ibero-North African flora in south-eastern Spain: new evidence from cave pollen at two Neanderthal man sites. Global Ecology and Biogeography12: 119-129.

Defleur, A., 1993. Les sépultures moustériennes, Paris, Éditions du Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique.

Morales-Pérez, J.V. and Sanchis-Serra, A., 2009. The Quaternary fossil record of the genus Testudo in the Iberian Peninsula. Archaeological implications and diachronic distribution in the western Mediterranean. Journal of Archaeological Science31: 1152-1162.

Rhodes, S.E., Walker, M.J., López-Martínez, M., Haber-Uriarte, M., López.Jiménez, A.,  Buitrago-López, A.T., Dewar, G., 2013. Analysis of Hystrix specimens recovered from Sima de las Palomas, Murcia, Spain, in Program with Abstracts, Canadian Association for Physical Anthropology, 41st Annual Meeting, October 17-20 2013 Scarborough, ON (University of Toronto, Scarborough).Scarborough, University of Toronto, and Canadian Association for Physical Anthropology, p. 47.

 

Salazar-García, D.C., Power, R.C., Sanchis Serra, A., Villaverde, V., Walker, M.J., Henry, A.G., 2013. Neanderthal diets in central and southeastern Mediterranean Iberia. Quaternary International318,3-18.

Walker, M.J., López Martínez, M., Ortega-Rodrigáñez, J., Haber-Uriarte, M., López-Jiménez, A., Avilés-Fernández, A., Polo-Camacho, J.L., Campillo-Boj, M., García-Torres, J., Carrión-García, J.S., San Nicolas-del Toro, M., Rodríguez-Estrella, T., 2012a. The excavation of the buried articulated Neanderthal skeletons at Sima de las Palomas (Murcia, SE Spain). Quaternary International 259: 7-21.

Walker, M., Ortega Rodrigáñez, J., Agut Giménez, A., Soler Laguía, M., Zollikofer, C.P.E., Ponce de León, M.S. 2012b. The Sima de las Palomas Neanderthal skeletons: First steps towards “virtual” reconstruction. Proceedings of the European Society for the Study of Human Evolution 1: 191 (special issue, J-J.Hublin, W.Roebroeks, M.Soressi, T.Terberger, F.Spoor, Eds., Proceedings of the 2nd Annual Meeting of the European Society for the Study of Human Evolution ESHE 21-22 September 2012 Bordeaux/France). Leipzig, Max-Planck Institute for Evolutionary Anthropology, Society for the Study of Human Evolution.

Walker, M.J., Ortega, J., Parmová, K., López, M., Trinkaus, E., 2011a. Morphology, body proportions, and postcranial hypertrophy of a female Neandertal from the Sima de las Palomas, southeastern Spain. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences USA 108:1008710091. 

Walker, M.J., Ortega Rodrigáñez, J., López Martínez, M., Parmová, K.,  Trinkaus, E., 2011b. Neandertal postcranial remains from the Sima de las Palomas del Cabezo Gordo, Murcia, southeastern Spain. American Journal of Physical Anthropology 144: 505-515.

Walker, M.J., Lombardi, A.V., Zapata, J., Trinkaus, E., 2010a. Neandertal mandibles from the Sima de las Palomas del Cabezo Gordo, Murcia, southeastern Spain. American Journal of Physical Anthropology 142: 261-272.

Walker, M.J., Zapata, J., Lombardi, A.V., Trinkaus, E., 2010b. New evidence of dental pathology in 40,000 year old Neandertals. Journal of Dental Research90: 428-432. 

Walker, M.J., Gibert, J., López Martínez, M., Lombardi, A.V., Pérez-Pérez, A., Zapata, J., Ortega, J., Higham, T., Pike, A., Schwenninger, J-L., Zilhão, J., Trinkaus, E., 2008. Late Neandertals in Southeastern Spain: Sima de las Palomas del Cabezo Gordo, Murcia, Spain. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences USA, 105: 20631-20636.

 

Michael Walker*, Mariano López-Martínez**, María Haber-Uriarte***

© All rights reserved.

*Department of Zoology and Physical Anthropology, Biology Faculty, Murcia University, Campus Universitario de Espinardo Edificio 20, 30100 Murcia, Spain.

Email: [email protected]  Tel: 34-620-267104

**Calle Pintor Joaquín 10-4º-I, 30009 Murcia, Spain.

Email: [email protected]  Tel: 34-630-408806

***Department of Prehistory, Archaeology, Ancient History, Mediaeval History and Historiographical Techniques and Science, Faculty of Letters, Murcia University, Campus Universitario de La Merced, Calle Santo Cristo 1, 30001 Murcia, Spain.

Email: [email protected] Tel: 629-756183

Directors of the excavation, Murcian Association for the Study of Palaeoanthropology and the Quaternary, MUPANTQUAT web-site http:www.mupantquat.com (Murcia Archaeological Museum, Avenida Alfonso X El Sabio 7, 30008 Murcia, Spain), all correspondence to MUPANTQUAT Secretary M.López Martínez <[email protected]>, and

Murcia University Experimental Sciences Research Group E005-11 “Quaternary Palaeoecology, Palaeoanthropology and Technology” (c/o Dr.J.S.Carrión García, Department of Plant Biology, Biology Faculty, Murcia University, Campus Universitario de Espinardo Edificio 20, 30100 Murcia, Spain)

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Unearthing the City of Agamemnon

Christofilis Maggidis is currently Director of Glas, Assistant to the Director of Mycenae, and President of the Mycenaean Foundation with nearly three decades of field experience at major archaeological sites, including Mycenae, Glas, Crete (Archanes, Idaion Cave), and Akrotiri (Thera). Since receiving his post-doctorate from Brown University and a research fellowship from Harvard, his research and teaching interests focus primarily on Minoan and Mycenaean art and archaeology, but they also include topics in Greek sculpture and architecture. Maggidis is the author of many articles, international conference papers, and three forthcoming books.

Homer, the great singer of tales, describes Mycenae as well built (euktimene), with wide streets (euryagyia), and rich in gold (polychrysos) in his famous epic poems Iliad and Odyssey. Such epithets were used repeatedly, interchangeably and rather conventionally for various cities in the formulaic language of Greek oral epic poetry – but not so for Mycenae. These three Homeric words epitomize vividly and effectively the complex archaeological picture of Mycenae that has emerged in the last two centuries. Systematic excavations and surveys of the site have revealed an imposing citadel fortified with massive cyclopean walls – a marvel of engineering – which comprised a magnificent palace, shrines and temples, workshops and storerooms, houses, and royal graves; outside the citadel walls was evidence of a large and densely populated town, extensive cemeteries with richly furnished royal shaft graves and monumental tholos tombs, an impressive water supply system of clay pipes, channels, underground cisterns, and dams; and finally, an extensive road network was traced connecting the citadel with its surrounding region and with select ports that gave access to trade routes all over the Mediterranean. Mycenae, a World Heritage site, was the leader of a closely-knit network of palatial states that shared a homogeneous culture – the fabled Mycenaean civilization.               

The citadel of Mycenae, comprising an area of 30,000 m2, was built on a low rocky hill rising 278 m above sea level and approximately 40-45 m above the surrounding plain. The hill of Mycenae is nestled between two mountains, Profitis Elias to the north and Zara to the south, from which it is separated by two ravines formed by winter torrents, Kokoretsa and Chavos, respectively; it is, therefore, a natural stronghold, protected by deep gorges and steep rocky sides all around, except its western slope which is the only accessible side. The natural defensibility of the site was further enhanced by a formidable 900 m-long circuit wall built of huge boulders in the megalithic ‘cyclopean’ technique to imposing dimensions (12-15 m high and 5-8 m thick); furthermore, the citadel was supplied with fresh water by the Perseia spring which lies 360 m to the east and approximately 13 m higher than its summit. The hill of Mycenae and the adjacent mountains belong to the western part of the Arachnaion mountain range that divides the Argolid from Corinthia, and rise at the mouth of the only passage connecting the two regions and in the crossroads of the eastward routes to the Saronic Gulf. The hill of Mycenae, therefore, combines a strong geopolitical location, which controls access points to and from the Argolid, and a commanding view of the Argive plain to the south below.

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mycenae1Map of the Late Bronze Age Aegean and Eastern Mediterranean, showing relative location of Mycenae.

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           A Brief History of Mycenae and the Mycenaean World

The first Greeks descended through the Balkans into mainland Greece in ca. 2300/2200 BC (beginning of the Early Helladic III). They settled down mainly in the fertile inland, formed villages and eventually small towns, organized egalitarian societies and developed a distinct regional culture (Middle Helladic) based on agricultural economy and limited trade contacts with the Cyclades and eventually Crete. Rising to power was a long process through trade, diplomatic contacts, and constant warfare abroad and at home during the formative Early Mycenaean period (Late Helladic I-IIA/B, ca. 1650-1420/1410 BC). The Mycenaeans proved to be meticulous students: through increasing contacts with Minoan Crete, their trade horizons gradually expanded from the Balkans and Northern Europe to Egypt, the Levant, Cyprus, and Asia Minor. This gradual expansion is documented in the multicultural amalgam of stylistic, iconographic, technical elements and materials of the exquisite finds in the royal Shaft Graves at Mycenae (Minoan, Egyptian, European/Balkan, Hittite, and Helladic influences), the extensive corpus of foreign imports in Greece (orientalia and aegyptiaca), and the increasing Mycenaean exports abroad. Contemporary iconographical evidence (e.g. flotilla fresco from Akrotiri at Thera, silver Siege Rhyton from Grave Circle A at Mycenae) illustrate some of the early military achievements of the rising new power abroad: raiding jointly with the Minoan fleet foreign exotic lands (Egypt?), sieging and sacking foreign towns. The Mycenaeans were recorded as “Ahhiya” or “Ahhiyawa” (~Homeric Achai(w)oi/Achaeans) in Hittite diplomatic documents already by 1420/1400 BC (since the reign of Tudhaliya II) and as “Danaja”or“Tanaja” (~ Homeric Danaoi) in Egyptian tribute lists like those of Thutmose III (ca. 1450 BC) and Amenhotep III (Karnak, ca. 1380 BC), or on a statue-base from Kom-el-Hetan (ca. 1380 BC), where “Mukanu” or mki[n] (~Mycenae) was listed first among mainland sites. In the following decades, the “Danaja” references in Egyptian sources gradually replaced the earlier “Keftiu” accounts and depictions of Minoan embassies of the 15th century BC, echoing contemporary archaeological evidence for drastic Mycenaean expansion and simultaneous reduction of Minoan presence abroad. This reversal of the political and military situation in the Aegean in the 14th century BC was triggered by the gradual infiltration and, arguably, military presence of the Mycenaeans on Crete in 1420/1410-1370 BC (Late Helladic IIIA1), in the wake of a devastating earthquake which had leveled the Minoan palaces and left the Minoan world in disarray. The Mycenaean occupation of Crete marked for the Minoans the beginning of the end and for the Mycenaeans the end of the beginning.

The Mycenaean world and particularly Mycenae flourished in the following two centuries (ca. 1420/1410-1200/1175 BC), a period known as Palatial Mycenaean or Late Helladic IIIA/B. The Minoan palaces served as modus operandi for the sociopolitical and economic organization of the rising Mycenaean states. This period is marked by regional centralization of power, state formation, and advanced socio-economic organization, geared towards efficient surplus local production and overseas trade, both coordinated and regulated by the palace administration and sustained by palatial bureaucracy (Linear B). At home, the Mycenaean palaces were fortified into citadels, large-scale public works were carried out, and production was systematized; at Mycenae, the cyclopean walls were constructed (1350 BC) and later expanded with the addition of the Lion Gate and postern gate (1250 BC), water supply was secured by means of an underground cistern and dams (1200 BC), a new palatial complex was built to replace an earlier palace (1300/1250 BC), the outer town expanded, and roads and bridges were built to serve the region of Mycenae. Abroad, the Mycenaeans assumed control over the Minoan colonies and trade outposts in the Aegean and Eastern Mediterranean, and further expanded to the east and west, thus firmly establishing their own trade network and successfully succeeding the Minoans in the overseas trade (Mycenaean thalassocracy). A vital sector of the centralized palatial economy and sociopolitical structure, overseas trade required not only a tight network of island and coastal outposts, but also highly effective diplomacy. Diplomatic contacts involved exchange of royal letters and gifts, ambassadors, official royal visits, treaties and bilateral agreements. Certain Mycenaean palaces like Mycenae, Thebes, and Pylos maintained a protagonistic role in overseas trade of luxury/prestige goods and diplomatic contacts at the highest level. The organized trade of luxury/prestige goods which required a well-coordinated control mechanism for acquiring raw materials and producing artifacts or other products to be marketed in exchange, afforded luxury to the elite, while the king’s special access to external prestige goods reinforced royal image and authority. The exquisite artifacts found in tombs in the area of Mycenae, Pylos, and Thebes, as well as the great variety of precious materials recorded in palatial inventory lists and yielded in the archaeological contexts of palatial workshops further document privileged connections and constant contact with Egypt, Anatolia, and the Near East, closely following the successful Minoan archetype.

In the course of the 12th century BC rapid, dramatic, and combined changes in several of the socio-economic, political, and environmental variables affected a fragile balance and triggered a chain reaction whose accumulating effect was progressively magnified and multiplied, resulting inevitably in a catastrophic systems collapse which caused the decline and fall of the Mycenaean world. The latter half of the 13th century BC was marked by intense and frequent seismic activity in certain regions of mainland Greece (two major destruction horizons were recorded at Mycenae in ca. 1240 BC and 1200/1180 BC). These ‘earthquake storms’ caused severe structural damage, local fires, disorganization and disarray, immediate allocation of manpower for costly and energy-consuming repairs, and hence disruption of economic life and trade. A typical example of a low-diversified surplus-geared economy without sufficient alternative resources to fall back to, the Mycenaean economy could hardly withstand and recover from temporary setbacks or survive the combined impact of various factors, such as natural catastrophes (earthquakes, extensive fires, severe climatic conditions, droughts, crop failure), ecological overexploitation, and palatial military/financial overextension. Natural disasters may have acted as catalysts for a catastrophic system failure, inflicting the final blow to the system: they eliminated short-term food supplies, destroyed high-yield specialized agricultural production and livestock, and consequently upset dependent satellite industries (flax, textile, wine and oil industries), disrupted trade, damaged the infrastructure, and demoralized the population. Inevitably, civil unrest, internal wars and raids by starving populations on less affected regions followed, causing decentralization and political fragmentation, dissolution of the socioeconomic nexus, severe depopulation of vital areas, and emigration to the coasts, islands, and overseas. The movement of peoples (called “Sea People” in the Egyptian sources) and the subsequent widespread destructions in Asia Minor and the Levant in the beginning of the 12th century BC led to the collapse of the Hittite Empire, but also eradicated the Mycenaean trade outposts and colonies in the East. The loss of their off-shore trade posts disrupted foreign trade and paralyzed the overseas sector of the centralized palatial economy, which, given the peripheral geopolitical location of Mycenaean Greece, depended on the contact with the main zone of exchange through intermediaries. That must have been another terrible blow to the already distressed and staggering palatial economy, forcing it to fall back on domestic production and isolation. In the course of the 12th century BC many small settlements in several regions (i.e. Argolid, Achaia, Attica, Euboia, Thessaly, islands, Cyprus, Asia Minor) sustained continuity and achieved substantial revival with their limited production and trade capacity, despite the general decline and fragmentation; on the contrary, the citadels of Mycenae, Tiryns, and Thebes, though partially repaired and reoccupied, and despite attempts for economic revival, never fully recovered and were gradually abandoned. The deterioration of the same system that had strengthened central palatial authority through the coordination and regulation of political and socioeconomic life resulted inevitably in the dissolution of the palaces’ power, decentralization and fragmentation of Mycenaean Greece. It appears, therefore, that it was the Mycenaean elite and its diagnostic, key elements (palatial administration and writing, foreign contacts and luxury goods, monumental art and megalithic architecture) that suffered the most from the system meltdown, whereas at a lower level the impact was less direct, and the core of Mycenaean society changed more gradually (in terms of basic material culture and cultural practices) and evolved organically into the Early Iron Age Greece.

           History of Excavations

Mycenae was first explored in 1841 by K. Pittakis on behalf of the Athens Archaeological Society; Pittakis cleared the area of the Lion Gate, the Treasury of Atreus and the Klytemnestra tholos tomb. Mycenae, however, was brought into the spotlight of worldwide acclaim by H. Schliemann in 1874/1876 who, following the description of the ancient traveler Pausanias, discovered five royal shaft graves in Grave Circle A (a sixth shaft grave was later excavated by P. Stamatakis), all furnished with unprecedented treasures of jewelry, weapons, vases, and other exotic artifacts and materials. This discovery, which followed Schliemann’s own excavations at Troy and his discovery there of the so-called ‘Priam’s Treasure,’ secured for Schliemann the title of the ‘father’ of Mycenaean archaeology and established the existence of the Mycenaean civilization (quite befittingly named after the most famous and powerful citadel, the seat of legendary king Agamemnon, and the first to be excavated on mainland Greece). In 1884 Captain B. Steffen mapped the area of Mycenae (Karten von Mykenai). In 1886-1897 Chr. Tsountas excavated most of the citadel, five tholos tombs and over one hundred chamber tombs. In 1920 the British School under A.J.B. Wace took over the investigation of the site; Wace excavated several sectors of the citadel, several buildings outside the walls, four tholos tombs and many chamber tombs, and published his results in monumental publications (1920-1957). Lord W. Taylour continued his work in the cult center of the citadel (1959-1969).  Meanwhile, the Athens Archaeological Society resumed the investigation of the site with the accidental discovery, excavation, and monumental publication of the royal Grave Circle B outside the walls by G. Mylonas and I. Papadimitriou (1951-1954). In 1958 G. Mylonas resumed the investigation of the citadel on behalf of the Athens Archaeological Society; he excavated several sectors of the citadel as well as houses and chamber tombs outside the walls (1958-1988). He was succeeded by S. Iakovidis (1988-2013) who excavated various sectors and buildings inside and outside the citadel and published the results of earlier excavations. Iakovidis conducted jointly with E. French and the British School an extensive archaeological survey of the wider area of Mycenae (Archaeological Atlas of Mycenae). Chr. Maggidis worked with Iakovidis on Building K inside the citadel (2002-2008) and has been publishing earlier excavations (Palatial Workshops); meanwhile, Maggidis conducted an extensive geophysical survey of the surrounding area that led to the discovery of the Lower Town (2003-2013), and has been excavating sectors of the Lower Town since 2007.

           Was there ever a Lower Town at Mycenae?

Since the commencement of the systematic investigation of Mycenae by Heinrich Schliemann in 1874, the excavation of the site has focused mainly on the citadel itself, comprising approximately 70% of the total fortified area. Outside the walls, work has been limited to royal cemeteries of shaft graves and tholos tombs, and a fair part of the extant chamber tomb cemeteries stretching farther on the hill slopes around Mycenae. Unfortunately, only a very small segment of the settlement once surrounding the citadel (12-13 completely or partially excavated buildings) has been brought to light, mainly west or north of the citadel. Although some of these structures are clearly domestic units (Panagia group), others (Oil-Merchant complex) appear to have been a combination of residential areas, storerooms, and workshops, which are plausibly interpreted as palatial buildings and annexes connected with palatial economy, bureaucracy and administration. An extensive archaeological survey which was jointly conducted by the Athens Archaeological Society and the British School at Athens in the 1990s, located, identified and mapped all visible remains throughout the wider area of Mycenae (32 hectares), including more than 750 sites, structures, buildings, guard towers, beacons, wall remains, tombs, roads, and bridges. However, the discovery of scattered, isolated building groups of both palatial and residential use, oddly intermingled with tholos tombs and served by separate drain systems, have led scholars to suggest that the citadel of Mycenae was surrounded by several loosely connected small settlements, each with its own cemetery. According to this theory, such satellite settlements must have gradually expanded from original nuclei in an additive, open plan and eventually framed the highways and roads leading to Mycenae. The alleged absence of large-scale urbanization has been repeatedly hypothesized for Mycenae and other Mycenaean centers. Such views were apparently fueled by the lack of sufficiently extensive excavations of settlements on mainland Greece and especially of the sites surrounding the main palaces and citadels of Mycenae, Tiryns, Pylos, Thebes, Orchomenos, and Athens. This picture, though, is at variance with the textual evidence of the Linear B tablets for Mycenaean political geography, administration, and socioeconomic organization of the Mycenaean states. Furthermore, in recent years intensive and extensive regional surveys on the mainland have produced important spatial analysis of settlement patterns; meanwhile, renewed excavation at palatial sites and their surrounding areas (Mycenae, Tiryns, Thebes, Pylos) and systematic extensive excavation of several Mycenaean settlements combined with the textual evidence and regional survey data, reveal emerging settlement patterns consistent with varying degrees of localized urbanization.

           Detecting the Lower Town

The terraces at the south foothill of the citadel and opposite the Atreus Treasury are located in the most prominent area en route to Mycenae; paradoxically, however, these terraces yielded no visible remains during the archaeological surface survey of the 1990s, apparently due to their deep river alluvium deposits. It was aerial reconnaissance that triggered the detection and led to the discovery of the Lower Town. The software-enhanced analysis of high-resolution aerial photographs of the area around Mycenae, taken in the spring of 1988 and kindly supplied by the Greek Military Geographical Service (G.Y.S.), revealed upon careful inspection distinct ‘ghost traces’ of walls as crop/soil marks on several terraces south of the citadel. These aerial photographs of Mycenae were also used in conjunction with a silo-locating military program (ERDAS Imagine 8.4) that compares visible, recognizable features within the photograph to other features that match the set parameters in order to produce the resulting image of a site prediction model. The areas in red were the most interesting because they picked up likely features in the very same locations targeted by the archaeological survey and highlighted on the aerial photograph as producing ghost traces. These areas (SEB I, SWB I-VII) were finally selected as being most likely to produce promising remote-sensing results and physical remains by excavation.

Subsequently, a systematic geophysical survey was launched at Mycenae by Prof. Chr. Maggidis under the auspices of the Athens Archaeological Society (2003-2013) with the generous funding and technical support of Dickinson College, the Institute for Aegean Prehistory (INSTAP), the Mycenaean Foundation, and the Geophysical Laboratory of the Aristotle University of Thessaloniki. Several ground-based remote-sensing methods were combined to map all visible and buried structures in the area around the citadel, to locate buildings, sectors and roads of the settlement of Mycenae outside the walls, and ultimately to create a 3-D digital model of the buried remains of the Lower Town of Mycenae. The targeted area is located immediately south of the citadel on the terraced fields flanking the dry riverbed ravine of Chavos: South East Bank (SEB), South West Bank (SWB). The survey area was selected after careful examination of the local geomorphology (artificially terraced land, thick undisturbed fill, sealed and protected by successive river alluvium deposits) and consideration of several topographical and archaeological variables. More than 50 grids were surveyed with Ground Penetrating Radar, Fluxgate Gradiometer, and Electrometer on six separate terraces on both banks. Plotting and mapping of the survey grids was carried out by means of differential GPS and Total Station. The survey data, the geomorphology of the study area, the archaeological remains and topographical parameters have been integrated in a GIS model.

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mycenae2Map of Mycenae, showing location and extent of survey area in relation to the acropolis where the citadel is located.

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In general, the remote sensing revealed walls, structures, buildings, features, gates and roads at two different depth ranges (0.40–1 m and 1.20–2 m) which consistently pervade most of the surveyed contexts; these depth ranges define possibly two superimposed occupation horizons, including an overlying Geometric/Archaic and an underlying Mycenaean level, accordingly, which are further set apart by the distinct types, size, and orientation of their structures. The South West Bank grids have produced the most interesting results so far. One of the most important finds of the geophysical survey was identified in the SWB Vb grid: at a depth of –0.68 m emerges a road surface (3 m wide) running N–S (roughly parallel to the modern road and roughly aligned with the Oil-Merchant complex), which may well be the northbound highway leading up to the citadel through the settlement. Two L-shaped, solid features to the north and on either side of the road may be gates or towers, considering their diagnostic shape and large size (at least 3.5 m wide, preserved to a total height of approximately 1 m). This feature is strikingly similar to another structure located at the extreme edge of the Panagitsa hill and labeled by Steffen in 1884 as a gate. What appears, therefore, in the radar image on grid SWB Vb must be the main gate into the Lower Town of Mycenae (Central Gate). Another gate and part of the impressive 5 m-thick outer fortification wall were further traced by the gradiometer on terrace SWB IIb by the western bank of Chavos (East Gate). This gate is connected perhaps with the retaining wall along the western bank and the remains (rock-cuttings) of a Mycenaean bridge at the mouth of the gorge, which it may have served. Several other structures were traced, identified and mapped, including two large buildings (SWB III) and an immense, multi-room compound (SEB I). Furthermore, all nine tholos tombs of Mycenae were surveyed, revealing interesting details of construction and topography. The discovery of these important landmarks sheds new light on the elusive topography and complex road network of the settlement around the citadel of Mycenae, and forms the basis for land expropriation and systematic excavation of the settlement of Mycenae.

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mycenae5GPR/Gradiometer map of the Lower Town (excavated area and gates)

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The number, size, type, and spatial distribution of the extant features, structures, and buildings traced thus far by remote-sensing seem to support the possibility of a sizable urban center surrounding the citadel on the west, south, and north sides: this town may have extended over an area of ca. 30-50 hectares (with a normal population density of 200 people per hectare), consisting mainly of domestic units and commercial buildings, but also including larger palatial structures and annexes (workshops, offices, storerooms) located closer to the main access roads and highways. The discovery of two gates, associated perhaps with an outer circuit wall, further reinforces the possibility of an organized town plan; to this conclusion point also definite town boundary markers that appear to have been in place already by the late 14th century BC. The peripheral spatial distribution of the cemeteries which form a circle farther around the citadel and the settlement demarcates the borders of the Lower Town, thus revealing a site pattern of three successive and concentric occupation zones (palatial, residential, and cemetery). The discovered buildings outside the walls belong to three different types, the oblong corridor plan, the square version with rooms arranged around a central court, and the megaron type; all three types have been also identified in the radar images on the south, terraced slope. Furthermore, it appears that although the palatial annexes outside the walls were destroyed by earthquake and fire in ca. 1240 BC and were subsequently abandoned, several residential buildings were repaired and continued to be in use well into the 13th/12th c. BC along with a number of chamber tombs, a pattern which is consistent with the composition of a town.

The geoarchaeological study of the Chavos area and the examination of the geomorphology, sedimentology, and stratigraphy of the excavated sectors identified two superimposed natural fills. These fills define two distinct stratigraphical and chronological horizons, namely a thick and coarse reddish-brown sterile colluvial fill with cobbles and boulders emerging at the depth of -2.5 m (water flow) and an overlying red fill with fine sedimentation  (debris flow). The deeper colluvial fill was probably formed by recurring overflows and extensive flooding of the Chavos river, as indicated by the depth of sedimentation and the horizontal grading of the deposited material. The soil micromorphology of this fill reveals traces of ground surface morphogenesis, which means that it must have been exposed to the elements and subject to severe weathering for a prolonged period of time before it was gradually covered by various structures in the Mycenaean period. In the 13th century BC, a strong retaining wall was built alongside the western bank of Chavos following its N-S orientation in order to delineate and narrow down the riverbed, contain the river flow, and protect the adjacent flat land to the west from recurring overflows and flood. This facilitated the spatial re-organization of landscape to accommodate the expansion of the south sector of the Lower Town. The Chavos river was successfully contained, as documented by the deposition of finer sedimentation in later fills and the absence of rocks and boulders therein. The strong water flow was controlled by a water dam which created an artificial pond further south securing water supply for irrigation. All these hydrologic modifications and their relative environmental impact aimed at a drastic transformation and spatial re-organization of the surrounding landscape, thus serving a systematic modification of farmland to domestic, industrial, and burial space. Systematic geoelectrical prospection combined with targeted deep-core drilling and soil micro-morphology further defined the paleogeomorphology of the area and detected ancient hydrologic, landscape, and environmental changes. The decline of Mycenae and gradual abandonment or destruction of the Mycenaean engineering projects (terraces, retaining walls, dams) in the early post-Mycenaean period resulted in the gradual accumulation of a natural red fill, a buildup of soil caused by slope erosion and river overflow over a long period of time (debris flow). This natural fill upon which (or cutting therein) the later Geometric and Archaic structures were founded, emerges at the same depth in the trenches of the excavated sector; therefore, the red fill defines a naturally formed stratigraphical and chronological horizon which seals, protects, and separates the underlying Mycenaean structures and contexts from the overlying superimposed Geometric and Archaic layers, thus connecting the excavated contexts and unifying the stratification of the whole site.

 The final results of the geophysical and geoarchaeological survey are currently publication-ready in a collective volume (forthcoming in 2014).

           Unearthing the Lower Town

The systematic excavation of the Lower Town at Mycenae (2007-) is conducted under the auspices of the Athens Archaeological Society with the generous funding and technical support of Dickinson College, the INSTAP, and the Mycenaean Foundation. The first phase of excavations focused on the South Sector of the settlement, and more specifically on the western part of terraces I/II of the South-West Bank. One acre of the surveyed land was purchased in 2006 with funds from Dickinson College and two more acres were bought in 2011. In the topographical grid of Mycenae, the purchased land falls within grid-squares D4 and E4 (500 × 500m). All the field campaigns so far have targeted the northern part of the purchased land (SWB II), where thirty 5×5m grid squares were excavated yielding substantial structures which had been traced by the geophysical survey with remarkable precision; these include houses, workshops, building complexes, intramural graves, retaining and defensive walls. In general, architectural features and structures of the settlement at Mycenae emerge at the depth of -0.10/0.15 m to the depth of -2.5 m. Their layout and spatial distribution reveal different orientation patterns of chronological significance: Mycenaean buildings in the deeper stratum follow a N-S orientation, parallel to the main northbound road to the citadel, whereas later structures appear to be oriented NW-SE. The Mycenaean structures include a solid and long retaining wall that was possibly connected with a gate (Wall A), and a late Mycenaean/Geometric wall (Wall B and Γ) which may have served as an auxiliary outwork connected with the outer fortification wall of the Lower Town or as a barricade of the Early Iron Age settlement, to judge from its relatively solid construction and size, the presence of an indentation, and the dense distribution of many arrow heads and sling stones in the vicinity of the wall. Mycenaean buildings include Building VII, Building VIII, which is delineated by two solid, well-built walls (Walls Δand E), and an apsidal structure (Building IV) consisting mainly of a solid curved wall which progressively narrows and funnels downwards (3.20 m × 4 m). The apsidal structure was founded directly upon the natural bedrock, which has been carefully hewn to form five successive steps giving access to the bottom of the apsidal structure at a depth of -3 m from ground level. The depth, downward tapering, carved steps, fill sedimentation and wet silt/sandy fills indicating presence of stagnant water in the interior of the apsidal structure corroborate the tentative identification of a cistern or well. The apsidal structure was originally constructed in the late Mycenaean period and continued to be in use as a cistern or well in the following centuries, as indicated by its successive repairs, modifications and extensions, until the Archaic period when it collapsed and finally went out of use, being subsequently filled-in with trash and debris.

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mycenae9View of the Lower Town of Mycenae (from north)

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mycenae18Overhead view of excavation team at work

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mycenae19Trench masters at work

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mycenae20C. Maggidis (field director) and A. Tentzeris (foreman) at work

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mycenae23Trench assistants at work

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The Mycenaean remains were eventually filled-in, sealed, and protected from later intrusions by a thick, sterile, natural red fill which accumulated gradually from slope erosion and river overflow as a result of the abandonment or destruction of the Mycenaean infrastructure in the early post-Mycenaean period. Later on, Geometric (10th-8th c. BC) and Archaic structures (7th/6th c. BC) were founded upon this natural fill (or cutting therein). The most important Geometric structures include a pottery/ivory workshop (Building I) equipped with a cistern (possibly for storage of fine clay), a multi-room house with a courtyard (Building II), which yielded three intramural burials of infants under the floor of Room 4 (G-2, G-3), and two solid circular structures with an inner diameter of 2.5 m abutting the curtailed Wall Γ (Buildings V and VI). Building V was founded upon a Mycenaean building (Building VII), which was embedded in the circular structure to retain and carry its cobbled floor, and, after going out of use, was partially overlaid by an Archaic clay plaster floor. Building V was apparently a silo (granary), used for storing and processing agricultural products, as indicated by its circular ground plan, the discovery of stone tools and grinders, clay loom weights and spools in its interior, and its association with an adjacent and contemporary circular structure of similar use (Building VI). An earlier apsidal structure (Building III) was uncovered below the floor of Room 1 of Building II, consisting of a thin curved wall and an extensive stone layer, which probably formed the floor underlayment of the apsidal building. Building III was founded upon the post-Mycenaean red fill and was sealed by the overlying Middle Geometric Building II, which was founded directly upon its ruins. The apsidal Building III, therefore, should be dated to the Protogeometric (11th/10th c. BC) or Early Geometric period (900-850 BC). Finally, abutting high onto the eastern face of Wall B was found a rectangular, rubble-built cist grave (int. dim. 1.75-1.80 m × 0.75-0.95 m) of E-W orientation, cut into the post-Mycenaean fill. The cist grave G-1 (see Middle Geometric Grave G1 image below) was found practically undisturbed: food offerings and remains of funerary meals were found in situ on top of the grave, which contained a single adult burial interred in a contracted position, resting on its right side with the head oriented westwards and facing south. The articulated skeleton of a young woman was well-furnished with an iron pin (found in situ on the right shoulder-blade), an iron ring (found in situ around a phalanx of the right hand), and five clay vases, carefully lined behind the back of the body (two small footed jars, a small pithoid vase, and a pyxis with lid), or placed in front of the body and beside the right hand (one-handled cup). The cist grave is securely dated to the late 9th century B.C. on the basis of the Middle Geometric Argive pottery and jewelry found in its context. The particular geomagnetic trace of this grave on the geoprospection images is diagnostic of other Geometric graves in the vicinity, where the southern part of the Geometric cemetery of Mycenae must have extended.

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mycenae11Aerial views of Lower Town of Mycenae: The excavated area, shown above and in following images

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mycenae12             _______________________________________________

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mycenae16Middle Geometric Grave G-1

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A great number and wide variety of finds have been retrieved so far, including fragments of Mycenaean and Archaic figurines, flint and obsidian blades, flakes, and cores, stone tools, fragments of stone vases, stone cloth weights, seal-stones, beads and pendants, rings, glass shards, metallic objects, coins, lead sheets, iron nails and hooks, lead clamps for pottery mending, ivory objects, clay loom weights and spools, fresco and plaster fragments, color pigments, carbonized wood, animal bones, shell, roof tiles and abundant pottery (mainly Mycenaean, but also Geometric and Archaic). All excavated soil is sifted, and soil from uncontaminated closed contexts or undisturbed sealed layers is water-sieved. Soil samples are systematically collected for soil micromorphology (intact block samples consolidated with resin) and archaeobotanical analysis. The preliminary study of the archaeobotanical material has identified remains of grape pips, olive stones, figs, cereal grains, barley, and pulses. The analysis of animal bones has identified a wide variety of domesticated animals (sheep, goats, cattle and pigs, dogs, donkey) and wild species (wild boar, deer, red deer, hare).

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mycenae25Grave goods from Middle Geometric Grave G-1

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mycenae26Sealstones

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mycenae27Lead clamps and iron nails and hooks

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mycenae28Arrowheads

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mycenae29Stone and metal jewelry

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Assessing the Importance of the Lower Town 

The geophysical survey and systematic excavation of the Lower Town at Mycenae (2003-2013) revealed an extensive Mycenaean settlement outside the citadel, which was protected by an outer fortification wall with gates, as well as overlying structures and buildings dating to the Early Iron Age (PG/G houses, workshops, silos, retaining walls, and graves) and the Archaic period, thus establishing for the first time a continuous, well-stratified occupation of Mycenae in all the successive periods from the 13th century BC to the 6th century BC. Such strong confirmation of continued presence following the decline of the palatial center of Mycenae and the subsequent political decentralization, economic collapse, and social dissolution, becomes very important, as it complements and reinforces the post-Mycenaean archaeological picture of transition in the Early Iron Age Argolid (Argos, Tiryns, Mycenae, Asine), and substantiates cultural continuity in the region.

The exploration of the lay-out, borders, size, and landscape of the town has radically changed the topography of Mycenae, and offered a better understanding of Mycenaean town planning and urbanization, and of the interaction between town and palace, production and storage, local workshops and trade patterns, ancient economy and environment. The geopolitical location of Mycenae, the commanding position of the fortified citadel, the interaction dynamics between settlement and palace, the spatial organization of the surrounding landscape and related hydrologic modifications, all pose intriguing geological, archaeological and paleoenvironmental questions. The geophysical survey at Mycenae detected patterns of ancient reorganization and transformation of the landscape, including terracing against soil erosion, successive modifications of farmland to domestic, industrial and burial space, deforestation, intensification and extensification of agricultural production, as suggested by archaeobotanical evidence and ensuing alterations of the water sources towards systematic irrigation. Towards an integrated synthesis, it is essential to understand the dynamics of the monuments with the formation/deformation processes of their related landscape ecosystem and their relative environmental impact. Land development, soil and water management, roads and bridges facilitating circulation and access to farmland, spatial organization, property delineation, and protection of land resources are essential parameters of systematic intensification of agriculture necessitated by a centralized economy.  Such public works of grand scale can only be designed and realized by palatial authorities aiming to appropriate ownership and exert political power. Therefore, land development and water management are also means of property claim which effectively transfer ancestral family/clan/community property rights to palatial management, control, and eventually possession, thus transforming not only landscape but also the dynamics of the socio-economic structure (integrative to coercive). All surveys to date suggest that Mycenae may have played a more significant role within the surrounding landscape than was previously thought, which presents an opportunity to redefine one of the most famous sites in all of Greece.

Finally, the geophysical survey and excavation of this world-renowned site has been offering field training to hundreds of undergraduate and graduate students through the D.E.P.A.S. project of Dickinson College, great opportunities for faculty/student collaborative research, doctoral theses, interdisciplinary collaboration and leading scholarship for scholars and researchers from around the world.

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mycenae21Director C. Maggidis holds artifact after discovery of Geometric Grave

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For more information see the Project website: http://mycenae-excavations.org

Contact information to participate or donate to the project: contact Prof. Chr. Maggidis at [email protected] and (717) 245-1014

All images, unless otherwise noted, are credit Dickinson Excavation Project and Archaeological Survey of Mycenae.

CHRISTOFILIS MAGGIDIS, Ph.D.

C. Roberts Chair, Associate Professor of Archaeology

Department of Archaeology, Dickinson College

President of the Mycenaean Foundation

Assistant to the Director, Mycenae

Director, Geophysical & Archaeological Survey of Glas

 

Address: Keck Archaeology Lab, P.O. Box 1773, Dickinson College, Carlisle PA 17013

Office tel: (717) 245-1014

E-mail: [email protected]

Personal web-page: http://www.dickinson.edu/~maggidic

Department website: http://www.dickinson.edu/academics/programs/archaeology/

Mycenae website: http://mycenae-excavations.org

Glas website: http://glas-excavations.org

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The Dedication of Roman Weapons and Armor in Water as a Religious Ritual

Brandon Olson is pursuing his Ph.D. in the department of archaeology at Boston University and has earned a bachelor’s degree in anthropology (Fort Lewis College) and graduate degrees in archaeology (Sheffield University), ancient history (University of North Dakota), and classics (Pennsylvania State University). His research interests include the archaeology and history of the Hellenistic and Roman east with particular focus on ancient warfare, epigraphy, ceramics, settlement, GIS applications to archaeology, and social history. He is currently involved with ongoing archaeological projects in the Eastern Mediterranean including the Pyla-Koutsopetria Archaeological Project in southern Cyprus, the Mopsos Survey in southern Turkey, the Tel Akko excavations in northern Israel, the Polis Chrysochous excavations in southern Cyprus, and the excavations at Mendes in northern Egypt.

Through chance finds, formal excavations, looting, and dredging operations, several pieces of intact, fully functional Roman weapons and armor have been recovered from aquatic contexts in Gaul and Britain dating from the first century B.C.E to late first century C.E. Some scholars have attempted to explain the phenomenon as a series of accidental losses, while others allude to intentional deposition.[1]Although one cannot completely disregard accidental loss, the facts that military equipment was both expensive and heavily regulated and the veneration of water played an important role in Roman religion suggests that, in the majority of cases, gear found in water was a result of a conscious act, most likely of religious nature.

In Roman religion, the dedication of objects to gods took two forms: votive offerings, items dedicated to propitiate a god, and vows, objects dedicated to fulfill a contract with a deity. The religious rites were integral to the relationship between gods and mortals, as they provided a medium through which humans and the divine could interact. Roman religious practice prescribed a strong tradition of dedicating objects and a veneration of water; yet, few works, both ancient and modern, attest to a tradition of soldiers dedicating gear into water as a religious rite. It is the purpose of this investigation to argue that military equipment recovered from aquatic contexts in the western provinces cannot always be interpreted as accidental loss, but rather through emulation of a widespread Celtic practice, Roman soldiers dedicated weapons and armor into water as a religious rite.

Contextualizing the Assemblage

Examining religious praxis by way of military gear is problematic due to the difficulty encountered when attempting to link artifacts with specific behavior without proper archaeological context. Most equipment recovered from water lacks précis provenience, which is a direct result of recovery. Few formal excavations have been conducted in the major rivers and streams in Gaul and Britain, and several of the examples available for study are byproducts of dredging operations. Although the exact context of artifacts is essential for any study of material culture, understanding the manner in which military equipment became archaeological material helps bridge this gap. The following discussion of the processes of deposition will demonstrate that military arms and armor differed greatly from other material forms because they were never regarded as trash or discarded as such; thus, they entered the archaeological record in more specific and deliberate ways.         

Loosely following Schiffer’s life-cycle theory, there are two processes that transform Roman military gear into material culture: cultural deposition processes and depositional processes.[2] Cultural deposition occurred when accoutrements were deliberately discarded or ritually offered in the ground or other concealed places where recovery was difficult. In such cases, the items no longer functioned in their traditional behavioral systems and become incorporated into an archaeological context. These acts include burying gear to prevent others from utilizing it, hoarding, mortuary contexts, cross-cultural utilization and, as will be discussed later, religious dedication. Often, when a garrison stayed at a particular fort for a period of several years, soldiers and officers increased the quantity of their possessions. When it came time to abandon a fort, the army would take what they could and bury the rest, preventing non-Roman forces from utilizing whatever they left behind. During unsettled times, or when abandoning a fort, soldiers would, on occasion, bury valuable possessions in a hoard. For example, the Corbridge hoard in Britain, excavated in 1964, contained an assemblage of equipment that included several pieces of lorica segmentata (metal, plated body armor), spearheads, artillery bolts, nails, wax writing tablets, papyri fragments, iron alloy, copper alloy, and glass fragments.[3] The owner buried the gear inside of an iron-bounded chest covered with a piece of leather. The amount of care taken when interring the items and sheer value of this material demonstrates that the owner planned to reclaim it. In the event of a soldier’s death, a colleague returned his equipment to a repository, buried it with the soldier, or his items simply disappeared. During their service, many soldiers drafted a will indicating who would receive their possessions after death. In some cases gear is found in burial contexts, suggesting it was interred ex testamento (according to a will).[4] Cross-cultural discard occurred when Roman equipment acquired as war booty, tribute, mercenary equipment, and trade objects was deposited in a non-Roman region.[5] 

Depositional processes, on the other hand, constituted the accidental loss of fully functional items within a behavioral system. The transformation from the functional context of the gear to the archaeological context is, therefore, accidental. While on campaign, soldiers did, on occasion, lose their equipment. If a unit crossed a river or was suddenly ambushed, it was possible for soldiers to lose weapons and armor in the chaos. Although it is difficult to identify lost equipment archaeologically, Vegetius notes that accidental loss was a concern. He states, “the passages of rivers are very dangerous without great precaution. In crossing wide or rapid streams, the baggage, servants, and sometimes the most foolish soldiers are in danger of being lost.”[6] One must question, however, to what extent the current assemblage represents a traditional depositional process. As stated earlier, gear was expensive and regulated. Strict laws allowed officials to severely punish soldiers for mishandling their equipment. Legal works, such as the ex Ruffo Leges Militates, Corpus Juris Civilis, and the Strategica, preserve laws that forbade soldiers from losing and haphazardly disposing their gear.[7] If a soldier lost his sword, for example, an official could punish him twice, both for disarming himself and for potentially arming the enemy. Punishments for such an offense included, but were not limited to, flogging, a reduction in rank, and death.

Military equipment is unique as, unlike most other artifact types, arms and armor, in whatever condition, were never considered refuse at any point in their life-cycle, and entered the archaeological record in specific ways. Therefore, the processes of deposition are fairly predictable, and the exact context of the material is not entirely necessary for a discussion of the connection between military accoutrements and religion. 

Celtic Evidence

The Celtic and Roman traditions of depositing weapons and armor are very similar in practice, and will be compared later to discuss the nature of Roman religion in Gaul and Britain. Celtic religion was deeply rooted in a veneration of water as streams, rivers, lakes, wells, and bogs were sacred places for Celtic worship. Aquatic locations—with the exception of bogs—represented life, curative qualities, fertility, and well-being. Bogs were feared and associated with danger and treachery.[8] Rivers, lakes, and streams became places centered on votive behavior, whereas in bogs individuals made both offerings and sacrifice. It is through the classical sources, presence of Celtic water deities, and the archaeology that Celtic water veneration and the various religious practices associated with it emerge. 

In describing the destruction of Tolosa by Quintus Servilius Caepio, both Strabo and Justinus note how the Celtics ritually deposited valuables in sacred lakes.[9] In 105 B.C.E., the Roman proconsul Caepio went to southern Gaul and fought against the Tectosagi. At the siege of Tolosa, he seized a great treasure of gold and silver from a sacred lake, which was identified as the booty seized from Delphi by the Gauls in 279 B.C.E. Caepio committed a sacrilegious act, according to Strabo and Justinus, by draining the lake and taking the treasure. Later that year, Roman forces suffered a disastrous defeat at the Battle of Arausio and, according to Orosius, the Cimbri and Teutoni seized large quantities of booty. Orosius states:

The enemy, after gaining possession of both camps and great booty, by a certain strange and unusual bitterness completely destroyed all that they had captured; clothing was cut to pieces and thrown about, gold and silver were thrown into the river, corselets of men were cut up, trappings of horses were destroyed, the horses themselves were drowned in whirlpools, and men with fetters tied around their necks were hung from trees, so that the victor laid claim to no booty, and the conquered to no mercy.[10]  

The gold and silver may have been part of the booty seized by Caepio from Tolosa, given that he was a military leader at the battle. Caepio, after being prosecuted by Norbanus for stealing the Tolosa treasure, was exiled to Smyrna and died.

Classical accounts of Celtic water veneration are not restricted to Caepio. Caesar alludes to a deep respect for water when he describes the subjugation of Uxellodunum in 51 B.C.E.[11] Caesar notes that the inhabitants continued to resist his advance until troops fully blocked a spring running through the settlement. The inhabitants interpreted the dry stream as an inauspicious omen and quickly surrendered. Prudentius, a fifth-century C.E. Roman poet from Spain, describes in his Psychomachia the battle between Pudicitia (Chastity) and Libido (Lust). After Pudicitia defeated and killed Libido with her great sword, Pudicitia cleaned the sword in the Jordan River and deposited the victorious weapon into a religious space. Prudentius writes, “she dedicated it to the altar of the sacred spring in the Catholic temple, eternally shining there it shines with light.”[12] Writing in Gaul during the sixth century, Gregory of Tours offered yet another example of the Celts offering valuable items in water. Gregory writes:

In the territory of Javols there was a mountain named after Hilary that contained a large lake. At a fixed time a crowd of rustics went there and, as if offering libations to the lake, threw [into it] linen cloths and garments that served men as clothing. Some [threw] pelts of wool, many [threw] models of cheese and wax and bread as well as various [other] objects, each according to his own means, that I think would take too long to enumerate. They came with their wagons; they brought food and drink, sacrificed animals, and feasted for three days.[13]

The six classical accounts demonstrate clearly that the Celts and other groups dedicated valuable objects into water and that Roman culture had knowledge of the tradition.

Roman contact with Celtic groups initiated ideological reforms for both cultures. Prior to the Roman conquests of Gaul and Britain, the Celts did not wholly identify the divine physically. According to Green, Roman contact provided a catalyst for Celtic concepts of the divine to be freed from anonymity.[14] It is because of this contact that we can begin to identify specific Celtic water deities and classify them into two categories: those attached to a specific river and those attached to water features. The former category includes Verbia (goddess of the Wharfe River), Sequana (goddess of the Seine River), and Souconna (goddess of the Saone River). The latter includes Sulis (goddess of the springs at Bath among other things), Coventina (goddess of a spring at Carrawburgh), and Condantis (a goddess worshipped in Britain, whose name means “watersmeet”).[15] The deities mentioned above served many functions in Celtic religion, but they also played a role in Roman religious practices in Gaul and Britain.      

The Celtic tradition of tossing objects into water as a religious rite originates in the Bronze Age (Hallstatt culture) and lasts through the Roman periods (Le Tene Culture). The archeological evidence for this practice is abundant and extensively studied . Both Wait and Roymans have published comprehensive archaeological accounts of Celtic weapons discovered in water from Britain and Gaul.[16] Wait examines Celtic swords, helmets, and shields in his study of ritual and religion in Britain within three chronological periods: seventh century B.C., Middle Iron Age, and Late Iron Age. Since the focus of the present study is the relationship between Celtic and Roman religious ritual, the material from the Middle Iron and Late Iron ages will be discussed in detail. The Celtic periodization scheme in Britain interprets the La Tene period as beginning at the onset of the Iron Age and ending with the Roman conquest in the first century C.E. Of the 113 Celtic swords dating to the La Tene period discovered in Britain, 66% came from rivers and bogs, 9% came from burials, 1% from hoards, 15% from an archaeological site, and 9% were chance finds. Only three helmets from an aquatic context have been recovered in Britain dating to the La Tene period. Map 1 depicts sword and helmet densities in relation to major rivers in Britain.

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Map 1 (after Wait 1985): Distribution of Le Tene period swords and helmets discovered in aquatic contexts in Britain. Satellite imagery courtesy of Bing.

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Roymans adopted a similar approach in his study of Belgic Gaul. He identified and plotted all the Le Tene swords and helmets from his study area. The periodization scheme for Celtic Gaul differs from the British scheme, as the La Tene period began at the onset of the Iron Age, but ended with the Roman conquest in the first century B.C.E. Of the 15 Celtic helmets found in Belgic Gaul, 27% came from a grave, 40% came from a river, 13% from a cult place, and 20% are of unknown provenience. Of the 109 Celtic swords recovered, 48% are grave finds, 34% came from a river, 13% from a cult place, and 6% are of unknown provenience. Map 2 depicts sword and helmet densities from Roymans’ study area.

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Map 2 (after Roymans 1996): Distribution of Le Tene period swords and helmets discovered in aquatic contexts in Belgic Gaul. Satellite imagery courtesy of Bing.

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Based on classical accounts, the presence of several water deities, and the studies of Wait and Roymans, Celts groups from both the Hallstatt and Le Tene periods had a strong tradition of dedicating military equipment in water for hundreds of years. This tradition both predates and continues well after the Roman conquests of Gaul and Britain. Roman soldiers came into contact with a well-established religious ritual, which, as we will see, was incorporated into their religious system. 

Roman Evidence

There is no question that water held a religious significance in Roman culture. In discussing the importance of water in Roman religion during the Republican period, Edlund-Berry argues that, although the use of water figured greatly in religious practices, it was an unofficial, private affair.[17] Although the veneration of water was not an official state-sponsored ritual, it was practiced in the private realm. The sites of several Roman bridges show evidence of religious activity. Archaeologists excavating the intersection of the Via Appia and the Garigliano River at the site of ancient Minturnae uncovered several artifacts, including 4,918 coins deliberately tossed into the river.[18] Moreover, the Thames River within the urban confines of London also produced thousands of coins, demonstrating that offerings of valuable property were made into water.[19] There are, however, no classical accounts that attest to a Roman practice of depositing military gear or other valuables in water as a religious practice, nor are there water deities similar to those found in Celtic Britain and Gaul attested in the Roman pantheon. If, indeed, water veneration was an unofficial, private ritual, as Edlund-Berry argues, and water veneration among non-Roman groups was deemed abnormal as the aforementioned classical sources suggest, it is of little surprise that historical records do not attest to such a ritual within Roman culture. The archaeological record, however, does provide evidence supporting such a religious ritual.

In his study of Romanization in Belgic Gaul, Roymans also examines Roman military equipment. He categorized and investigated the Roman evidence in the same manner as the Celtic material. All Roman gear utilized in his study dates to the first century C.E. Of the 68 Roman swords discovered in Belgic Gaul, 51% are grave finds, 25% are river finds, 10% are from a cultic place, and 13% come from a military camp. Of the 51 Roman helmets from this region, 8% are grave finds, 69% are river finds, 2% are from a cult place, and 22% are from a military camp. Map 3 illustrates sword and helmet densities in relation to the major river systems in northwest Gaul. Unfortunately, Roymans’ study does not incorporate material from Britain. However, military equipment has been recovered from aquatic contexts at Newstead, possibly Corbridge, and the Thames River.

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Map 3 (after Roymans 1996): Distribution of Roman swords and helmets discovered in aquatic contexts in Belgic Gaul. Satellite imagery courtesy of Bing.

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It is clear that Roman culture adopted and adapted deities and religious practices from other groups. Mithraism, for example, had a strong following among the Roman army. The Persian god was sent to Earth to kill the sacred bull, whose blood symbolized life forces.[20] Several iconic representations from Britain and Gaul survived, depicting Mithras slaying the primeval bull with a serpent and scorpion trying to prevent the blood from reaching the fertile ground. When Rome expanded into new territories, cultural exchange occurred on both ends; Romanization was never a one-sided affair, and it certainly appears that Celtic culture left an indelible mark on Roman religion in the western provinces.   

At least three Roman deities were subjected to substantial Celtic influence while retaining a Roman identity.[21] For example, a goddess identified as Sulis Minerva, worshipped at the Roman site of Bath, attests to a dual cultural origin. The name is preserved in several inscriptions and lead curse tablets.[22] The combining of the Celtic goddess Sulis and the Roman goddess Minerva demonstrate a Romano-Celtic deity. Other hybrid deities include a Celtic Mars and a Romano-Celtic sky god from Britain. A statuette from Martlesham in England depicted a mounted warrior with an inscription dedicating it to Mars Cocidius. An altar from Chester possesses a dedicatory inscription to Jupiter Optimus Maximus Tanarus, who was a Celtic thunder deity from Gaul and Germany.[23]

Discussion and Conclusions

Classical accounts, the presence of specific water deities, and the archaeology of Celtic groups in Britain and Gaul suggest that soldiers stationed in the western Roman provinces witnessed and eventually adopted a strong religious tradition of water veneration, whereby individuals dedicated valuable military gear in water. Comparison of the density maps of the Le Tene and Roman material from Gaul (Map 2 and 3) and the pie charts in Figure 1 (below), provides evidence of a similar practice, though locations of deposition and types of military gear were different. Unlike the Celtic material, Roman helmets far exceed swords, and the highest concentration of Roman gear is found along the Rhine River, the frontier between Rome and Germany. Figure 1 depicts the specific artifact densities of swords and helmets from the Roman and Le Tene periods in Gaul. Despite subtle differences in preferred material types and depositional locales, the archaeology demonstrates a great degree of cultural exchange and continuity in the religious realms of the Celts and Romans.  

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Figure 1: Pie charts comparing the depositional practices of Le Tene and Roman period military equipment.

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The hybrid Romano-Celtic deities and the similar practices in the deposition of arms and armor in water paints an interesting picture of Roman and Celtic religion and interaction from the first century B.C.E. to first century C.E. The religious practices of the Roman army did not take over and replace native Celtic forms nor did Celtic religion remain the same. The Roman practice of offering military gear in water was a result of Celtic interaction. The purpose and belief systems behind such a tradition varied across time and space. Celtic culture saw water as a life force, key to wellbeing and fertility. It is impossible to determine if Roman soldiers who dedicated their gear perceived water or their newly adopted ritual in the same way. Although generally, in practice, the Roman and Celtic traditions concerning water appears similar, different cultural and ideological backgrounds gave the ritual a distinctively different meaning.     

Cover Photo Top: Roman infantry soldiers. Courtesy David Fiel, Wikimedia Commons

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Works Cited

Alcock, Joan. “Celtic Water Cults in Roman Britain.” American Journal 122 (1965): 1-12.

 

Allason-Jones, Lindsay, and Mike Bishop. Excavations at Roman Corbridge: the Hoard. London: Historic Buildings & Monuments Commission for England, 1988.

 

Bishop, Mike, and J. C. N. Coulston. Roman Military Equipment: from the Punic Wars to the Fall of Rome. Oxford: Oxbow Books, 2006.

 

Brand, C. E. Roman Military Law. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1969. 

 

Breeze, David, Joanna Close-Brooks, J. N. Graham Ritchie, Ian Scott, and A. Young. “Soldiers’ Burials at Camelon, Stirlingshire, 1922 and 1975.” Britannia 7 (1976): 73-95.

 

Czarnecka, Krystyna. “The Re-Use of Roman Military Equipment in Barbarian Contexts: A Chain-Mail Souvenir?” Journal of Roman Military Equipment Studies 5 (1994): 245-253.

 

Edlund-Berry, Ingrid. “Hot, Cold, Smelly: The Power of Sacred Water in Roman Religion, 400-100 BCE.” In Religion in Republican Italy, Yale Classical Studies 33, edited by Celia Schultz and Paul Harvey Jr., 162-180. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006.

 

Green, Miranda. The Gods of Roman Britain. Oxford: Shire Archaeology, 1983.

 

Green, Miranda. Celtic Myths. Austin: Texas University Press in cooperation with British Museum Press, 1993.

 

Klumbach, Hans. Romische Helme aus Niedermanien. Koln: Rheinland-Verlag, 1974.

 

Oldenstein, Jurgen. “Two Roman Helmets from Eich, Alzey-Worms District.” Journal of Roman Military Equipment Studies 1 (1990): 27-37.

 

Rald, Ulla. “The Roman Swords from Danish Bog Finds.” Journal of Roman Military Equipment Studies 5 (1994): 227-241.

 

Rhodes, Michael. “The Roman Coinage from London Bridge and the Development of the City of Southwark.” Britannia 22 (1991): 179-190.

 

Robinson, H. Russell. The Armour of Imperial Rome. New York: Scribner, 1975.

 

Roymans, Nico. “The Sword or the Plough. Regional Dynamics in the Romanisation of Belgic Gaul and the Rhineland Area.” In From the Sword to the Plough: Three Studies on the Earliest Romanisation of Northern Gaul, edited by Nico Roymans, 9-126. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 1996.

 

Ruegg, S. Dominic. Underwater Investigations at Roman Minturnae. Jonsered: Paul Astroms Forlag, 1995.

 

Schiffer, Michael. Formation Processes of the Archaeological Record. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1987.

 

Smith, Charles R. Illustrations of Roman London. London: Printed for the Subscribers and not Published, 1859.

 

Tomlin, R. S. O. Tabellae Sulis: Roman Inscribed Tablets of Tin and Lead from the Sacred Spring at Bath. Oxford: Oxford University Committee for Archaeology, 1988.

 

Wait, G. A. Ritual and Religion in Iron Age Britain, BAR British Series 149(i). Oxford: B.A.R., 1985.

 

Webster, Graham. Celtic Religion in Roman Britain. New Jersey: Barnes and Noble Books, 1986.

 


[1] For accidental loss, see Hans Klumbach, Romische Helme aus Niedermanien (Koln: Rheinland-Verlag, 1974); H. Russell Robinson, The Armour of Imperial Rome (New York: Scribner, 1975) and Jurgen Oldenstein, “Two Roman Helmets from Eich, Alzey-Worms District,” Journal of Roman Military Equipment Studies 1 (1990): 27-37. See Mike Bishop and J.C.N. Coulston, Roman Military Equipment: from the Punic Wars to the Fall of Rome (Oxford: Oxbow Books, 2006), 26-34 who tentatively suggest votive deposition.

[2] Michael Schiffer, Formation Processes of the Archaeological Record (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1987), 25-140.

[3] Lindsay Allason-Jones and Mike Bishop, Excavations at Roman Corbridge: the Hoard (London: Historic Buildings & Monuments Commission for England, 1988).

[4] David Breeze, Joanna Close-Brooks, J. N. Graham Ritchie, Ian Scott, and A. Young, “Soldiers’ Burials at Camelon, Stirlingshire, 1922 and 1975,” Britannia 7 (1976): 73-95.

[5] Ulla Rald, “The Roman Swords from Danish Bog Finds,” Journal of Roman Military Equipment Studies 5 (1994): 227-241 and Krystyna Czarnecka, “The Re-Use of Roman Military Equipment in Barbarian Contexts: A Chain-Mail Souvenir?” Journal of Roman Military Equipment Studies 5 (1994): 245-253.

[6] Veg. Mil. 3.7.1. Translations are the author’s unless stated otherwise.

[7] All legal works are published in C. E. Brand, Roman Military Law (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1969). See ex Ruffo Leges Militares 29 and 59; Corpus Juris Civilis (Book XLIX, Title 16 Military Affairs): 3. Modestinus, Punishments, Book 4.3 and 14. Paulus, Military Punishments, Book 1.1 and Strategica (by Maurice) 7.

[8] Miranda Green, Celtic Myths (Austin: Texas University Press in cooperation with British Museum Press, 1993), 51-52.

[9] Strabo Geographica 4.1.13 and Justinus Epitome 32.3.

[10] Paulus Orosius Historium Adversum Paganos V.16 (Deferrari).

[11] Caesar De Bello Gallico VIII.43.4.

[12] Prudentius Psychomachia 106-108.

[13] Gregory of Tours In Gloria Confessorum 2 (Van Dam).

[14] Miranda Green, The Gods of Roman Britain (Oxford: Shire Archaeology, 1983), 12.

[15] For Celtic water deities see: Joan Alcock, “Celtic Water Cults in Roman Britain,” American Journal 122 (1965): 1-12; Green, Celtic Myths; and Graham Webster, Celtic Religion in Roman Britain (New Jersey: Barnes and Noble Books, 1986).

[16] G. A. Wait, Ritual and Religion in Iron Age Britain, BAR British Series 149(i) (Oxford: B.A.R., 1985) and Nico Roymans, “The Sword or the Plough. Regional Dynamics in the Romanisation of Belgic Gaul and the Rhineland Area,” in From the Sword to the Plough: Three Studies on the Earliest Romanisation of Northern Gaul, ed. Nico Roymans (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 1996), 9-126.

[17] Ingrid Edlund-Berry, “Hot, Cold, Smelly: The Power of Sacred Water in Roman Religion, 400-100 BCE,” in Religion in Republican Italy in Yale Classical Studies 33, eds. Celia Schultz and Paul Harvey Jr. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 180.

[18] S. Dominic Ruegg, Underwater Investigations at Roman Minturnae (Jonsered: Paul Astroms Forlag, 1995), 68.

[19] Charles R. Smith, Illustrations of Roman London (London: Printed for the Subscribers and not Published, 1859) and Michael Rhodes, “The Roman Coinage from London Bridge and the Development of the City of Southwark,” Britannia 22 (1991): 179-190.

[20] Green, The Gods.

[21] Green, The Gods, 43.

[22] R. S. O. Tomlin, Tabellae Sulis: Roman Inscribed Tablets of Tin and Lead from the Sacred Spring at Bath (Oxford: Oxford University Committee for Archaeology, 1988).

[23] Green, The Gods, 46.