Studies on war in the ancient Near East: Collected essays on military history

Contents Jordi Vidal Introduction...

Author: Jordi Vidal

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Contents Jordi Vidal Introduction.................................................................................................................. 1 Juan Carlos Moreno García War in Old Kingdom Egypt (2686–2125 BCE) .......................................................... 5 Aaron A. Burke Canaan under Siege. The History and Archaeology of Egypt’s War in Canaan during the Early Eighteenth Dynasty ....................................................... 43 Trevor R. Bryce The Hittites at War..................................................................................................... 67 Juan-Pablo Vita The Power of a Pair of War Chariots in the Late Bronze Age. On Letters RS 20.33 (Ugarit), BE 17 33a (Nippur), and EA 197 (Damascus Region)............... 87 Jordi Vidal Sutean Warfare in the Amarna Letters ...................................................................... 95 Jaume Llop Barley from Ālu-ša-Sîn-rabi. Chronological Reflections on an Expedition in the Time of Tukultī-Ninurta I (1233–1197 BC).................................................. 105 Davide Nadali Assyrian Open Field Battles. An Attempt at Reconstruction and Analysis............ 117 John MacGinnis Mobilisation and Militarisation in the Neo-Babylonian Empire............................. 153 Rocío Da Riva A Lion in the Cedar Forest. International Politics and Pictorial Self-Representations of Nebuchadnezzar II (605–562 BC) .................................... 165 Indices...................................................................................................................... 193

Introduction Jordi Vidal

Military history was reduced to a marginal field of study and research in the mid-20th century. Possible explanations for this change of status have been widely discussed. For some scholars, the marginalization of military history was due to the disaster of the Second World War and the anti-militarism that followed the conflict. However, the main reasons probably lie in the new historiographical trends introduced by the Annales School and by Marxist historians. As is well known, these new trends rejected the traditional approach according to which history was essentially concerned with politics and therefore also with war, “the continuation of politics by other means” according to Karl von Clausewitz. This new history was not interested in events (histoire événementielle), but more particularly in the analysis of structures and economic and social changes over the long term (la longue durée) and geohistorical changes over the very long term.1 However, military historians were also partly to blame for the discredit and marginalization of military history. As Garlan has pointed out, traditional military history was almost exclusively concerned with technical matters relating to armament, organization and tactics, and limited the study of a complex phenomenon like war to a mere history of military operations. For those historians “la guerre avait la minceur et la transparence d’un phénomène, la gratuité d’un jeu”.2 Military history began to regain its place in historical research in the 1990s, when a large number of academic works on warfare were published.3 Renewed interest in military history has been consolidated in recent years and has affected ancient history as well. This is demonstrated, for example, by the publication of the series Ancient World at War by Blackwell or the creation of the Revue des études militaires anciennes. There are several possible reasons for the revival of military history. Thus some authors consider it as a direct result of the greater visibility of conventional armed conflicts, concealed behind the threat of a nuclear attack during the Cold War. However, once again the main reasons for the revival of military history probably have to be found in the evolution of historiographical trends. In recent decades, historians have vastly expanded the subjects under study, to cover the whole range of human activity. Hence the proliferation of studies on previously neglected topics: 1

P. Burke, 1991: Overture. The New History: Its Past and its Future. In P. Burke (ed.): New Perspectives on Historical Writing. Cambridge, p. 4. 2 Y. Garlan, 1972: La guerre dans l’antiquité. Paris, p. 7. 3 L. Loreto, 2006: Per la storia militare del mondo antico. Prospettive retrospettive. Napoli, pp. 12f.

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Jordi Vidal

childhood, death, madness, the climate, smells, dirt and cleanliness, gestures, the body, femininity, reading, speaking, etc.4 Bearing this in mind, it has been inevitable for the study of war to leave its marginal situation, becoming one of the human activities studied by historians. But current military history is quite different from the traditional military history carried out in the first half of the 20th century and before. Now the traditional attention paid to battles, campaigns and military structures coexists with the study of the social, economic and cultural dimensions of war, shaping what some call new military history.5 The study of war in the Ancient Near East does not seem to have followed exactly the same pattern we have just described. This is probably due to the traditional impermeability of Assyriology to new historiographical trends. Thus, for example, during the 1960s, one of the darkest times for military history, some very relevant works on warfare in the Ancient Near East were published,6 and in 1962 the Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale was held in London with the title “Warfare in the Ancient Near East”.7 A similar situation persisted in the 1970s–1980s.8 However, during the 1990s, Ancient Near Eastern Studies experienced a true proliferation of works on military history9 and currently this trend continues to develop.10 4

P. Burke, 1991: Overture. The New History: Its Past and its Future. In P. Burke (ed.): New Perspectives on Historical Writing. Cambridge. P. 3. 5 J. Black, 2004: Rethinking Military History. London / New York, pp. 49ff. and L. Loreto, 2006: Per la storia militare del mondo antico. Prospettive retrospettive. Napoli, pp. 10f. on the new military history. 6 Y. Yadin, 1963: The Art of Warfare in Biblical Lands. New York; M. G. Amadasi, 1965: L’iconografia del carro da guerra in Siria e Palestina. Roma; E. Salonen, 1965: Die Waffen der Alten Mesopotamier. Helsinki, A. E. Glock, 1968: Warfare in Mari and Early Israel. University of Michigan; J. M. Sasson, 1969: The Military Establishments at Mari. Roma. 7 Published in Iraq 25/2 (1963), pp. 110–170. 8 P. Marrassini, 1971: Formazione del lessico dell’edilizia militare nel semitico di Siria. Firenze; T. Kendall, 1974: Warfare and Military Matters in the Nuzi Tablets. Brandeys University; A. De Maigret, 1976: Le lance nell’Asia Anteriore nell’Età del Bronzo. Studio tipologico. Roma; F. Malbran-Labat, 1982: L’armée et l’organisation militaire de l’Assyrie. Genève / Paris; N. Stillman / N. Tallis, 1984: Armies of the Ancient Near East 3000 BC to 539 BC. Worthing; G. Philip, 1989: Metal Weapons of the Early and Middle Bronze Ages in SyriaPalestine (2 vols.). Oxford. 9 J. M. Durand (ed.), 1991: La guerre au Proche-Orient dans l’Antiquité (Les Dossiers de l’Archéologie 160). Dijon; R. H. Beal, 1992: The Organization of the Hittite Military. Heidelberg; R. Drews, 1993: The End of the Bronze Age. Changes in Warfare and the Catastrophe ca. 1200 B.C. Princeton; J. P. Vita, 1995: El ejército de Ugarit. Madrid; W. Mayer, 1995: Politik und Kriegskunst der Assyrer. Münster; P. Abrahami, 1997: L’armée à Mari. Université Paris I; L. Nehmé (ed.), 1999: Guerre et conquête dans le Proche-Orient Ancien. Paris. 10 M. G. Hasel, 2005: Military Practice and Polemic. Israel’s Laws of Warfare in Near Eastern Perspective. Berrien Springs; Krieg und Frieden im Alten Vorderasien (52 RAI, Münster 2006); W. Hamblin, 2006: Warfare in the Ancient Near East to 1600 BC. London (on this volume see however the critical reviews by Charpin, RA 100 (2006), 188–190, and Vidal, Historiae 4 (2007), 145–154); T, Bryce, 2007: Hittite Warrior. Oxford; P. Abrahami / L. Battini (eds.), 2008: Les armées du Proche-Orient ancien (IIIe–Ier mill. av. J.-C). London; Z. Bahrani, 2008: Rituals of War: the body and violence in Mesopotamia. New York; A. A.

Introduction

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The present volume aims to help to consolidate the studies on Ancient Near Eastern warfare. The book compiles nine works which cover a wide geography (Mesopotamia, Egypt, Anatolia, Levant), chronology (3rd–1st millennia BCE) and range of subjects. The original project also included some studies on periods and topics which for various reasons have not made it to the final version. The essays in this volume contain important contributions on warfare in the Ancient Near East. The book includes two studies on the Old Kingdom Egypt (Moreno García) and Hittite military (Bryce); a study on Egyptian military activities in the Levant during the Eighteenth dynasty, with a special focus on fortifications (Burke); an analysis of the use of war chariots in the Late Bronze Age (Vita); a study of the military activities of the Sutean tribes attested in the Amarna letters (Vidal); some chronological reflections on a military expedition of Tukulti-Ninurta I (Llop); a full description of Neo-Assyrian battle tactics (Nadali); an analysis of conscription in the Neo-Babylonian army (MacGinnis); and an essay on the memorialization of military campaigns of Nabuchadnezzar II in the Phoenician coast (Da Riva). Finally I wish to express my gratitude to the AOAT editors for accepting to publish the present work in this prestigious series, and to Wilfred G. E. Watson, who kindly revised the English versions of some papers.

Burke, 2008: “Walled Up to Heaven”. The Evolution of Middle Bronze Age Fortification Strategies in the Levant. Winona Lake; I. Ephcal, 2009: The City Besieged. Siege and Its Manifestations in the Ancient Near East. Leiden / Boston. See P. Abrahami, 2005: Bibliographie sur les armées et les militaires au Proche-Orient ancien. REMA 2, 3–19, for an introductory bibliography on war in the Ancient Near East.

War in Old Kingdom Egypt (2686–2125 BCE) Juan Carlos Moreno García

From the very origins of modern Egyptology until quite recently, 3rd millennium Egypt has been considered one of the peaks of pharaonic civilisation. Economic prosperity, social order, respect for hierarchy and paternal government would explain the longevity of the Old Kingdom state as well as such astonishing achievements as the massive pyramids. Egypt would thus turn out to be a kind of miracle, an oasis of high culture and elevated values isolated from other countries and influences thanks to its deserts. Even foreign affairs would have been reduced to a strict minimum, with just the occasional expedition led against a troubling Nubian or Bedouin tribe, or the sporadic delivery of “diplomatic” gifts to a foreign ruler, as the findings at sites such as Ebla would prove. In the same vein, the beginning of the 2nd millennium, the period of Egyptian history known as the Middle Kingdom, would have been another age of classicism, when literary creations replaced huge architecture as the most refined fruits of a high and peaceful culture. The absence of a durable empire in Nubia or the Levant, and the lack of the kind of military and heroic ethos so prevalent in New Kingdom sources, would only confirm such an image of Egypt, where attack and conquest could only happen as a preventive reaction to foreign menace. Thus, for instance, the New Kingdom conquests were the “natural” consequence of the traumatic impact of the Hyksos arriving in the Nile Valley. Nevertheless, the discovery of the royal annals of the Middle Kingdom, in the late 1970s, with their references to expeditions, loot and prisoners,1 or the recent recovery of Khnumhotep’s biography at Dahshur2 has altered the usually accepted picture. Yet war was present in 3rd millennium Egypt too, both inside its frontiers and abroad. The representation of the king smiting his enemies was a powerful ideological motif, which goes back to Predynastic iconography and continued during the 3rd millennium, both in the Sinai reliefs and inscriptions and in the royal mortuary complexes surrounding Memphis. What is more, the discovery of (probably) Predynastic inscriptions at Gebel Seikh Suleiman, which seem to commemorate an armed clash with some Nubian ruler, shows that war and conflict was coeval with the birth of the Egyptian state. Later, Fourth Dynasty inscriptions found by a Spanish archaeological team at Khor el-Aqiba, in northern Nubia, provide further evidence of large Egyptian armies being sent to fight their Sudanese neighbours and returning to Egypt with thousands of prisoners and hundreds of thousands of cattle. Finally, the iconography, biographical statements and function titles found in elite tombs from the end of the 1 2

Altenmüller / Moussa 1991. Allen 2008.

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Juan Carlos Moreno García

3rd millennium provide a glimpse into an increasingly militarised society, when the state collapsed and powerful regional warlords (referred to as “chiefs of troops” in Egyptian texts) raised local armies and led them into battle against their rivals in a merciless struggle for power. Scenes of soldiers become common in some Upper Egypt tombs, whereas inscriptions from localities such as Siut and Mo‛alla describe in detail the armed encounters involving their provincial governors. Even foreign mercenaries were enrolled during this age of conflict, and it is not at all impossible that the local availability and the control of such contingents of troops are at the origin of the Theban kings. In any case, the monuments of many of these soldiers found at Gebelein show the extent of war as a source of power in 3rd millennium Egypt. Finally, it must be stressed that no regular, specialised, army existed during the Old Kingdom. Also, the bulk of Egyptian military forces seems to have consisted of local contingents raised as occasion demanded and put under the command of officers whose rank and function titles are ambiguous, as they have both a civil and military meaning. References to actual armed conflicts or military organisation are also rare and sources too scarce to get even a general overall picture. Furthermore, warrior qualities lacked the heroic ethos so praised in later periods, an ethos that, in fact, played almost no role as a source of prestige in the numerous private inscriptions preserved from this period. In these circumstances, the study of war in the Old Kingdom is a rather difficult task and, not surprisingly, it hardly bears comparison with later better documented periods.3 War and Geopolitics from the End of the 4th to the End of the 3rd Millennium BCE The origins of the pharaonic state are difficult to trace because of the scarcity of the archaeological and written records and their uneven geographical distribution. They are mostly concentrated in a small number of cemeteries whose urban contexts are largely unknown. Meagre as this evidence might be, Egyptologists accept that some centres of political power arose about the last third of the 4th millennium in several Upper Egyptian localities such as Hierakonpolis, Nagada and Abydos, and that the kings of Abydos accomplished the political integration of the country and the control of the neighbouring areas: military expeditions against Nubia and the establishment of some kind of commercial “colonies” in southern Palestine are attested just before and immediately after the unification of the country. But recent discoveries at Hierakonpolis show that some kind of political authority was already in place at this locality in the first half of the 4th millennium as it displayed its emerging power in an elaborated form, including a life-size statue,4 remarkable “royal” tombs and complex ritual centres.5 These tombs precede the first royal burials from Abydos by several centuries and they raise many questions about the relationship between Hierakonpolis (the first “royal” local centre?) and Abydos (from where the first pharaohs 3

Gnirs, 1996a; Partridge 2002; Gilbert 2004; Spalinger 2005. Harrington 2004; Jaeschke 2004; for another Predynastic over-life-size statue from Hierakonpolis, cf. Quibell / Green 1902, 15 pl. 57. 5 Friedman 2008. 4

War in Old Kingdom Egypt (2686–2125 BCE)

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came): the importance of Hierakonpolis, at least as a venerable ritual centre, was recognised by later pharaohs who built quite impressive monuments there (like Khasekhemuy) or enriched the local sanctuary with their statues (like Pepi II). One can speculate that after the initial development of Hierakonpolis, Abydos became a kind of Predynastic “Memphis of the South”, a new political centre which arose in a fluvial basin far larger than the one in Hierakonpolis and better placed for controlling the exchange network with the Levant as well as the northern areas of the Nile valley that were progressively integrated into the kingdom. After the consolidation of the united monarchy, the capital was further moved to the north, to the area of Memphis, where the control of the newly incorporated rich region of the Delta could be easier. In any case, the recent discoveries at Hierakonpolis show that some kind of “royal” authority or primitive chiefdom existed about 3700 BCE, well before the Predynastic kings of Abydos. One can infer that the model for the conquest and territorial organisation of the kingdom could have first arisen in southernmost Egypt around Hierakonpolis, in the region later known, more specifically, as Ḫn-Nḫn ”the interior of Hierakonpolis”. The regional role played by Hierakonpolis may be better understood in the light of new archaeological discoveries. First of all, the serekhs of some Predynastic rulers have been found in the deserts surrounding the city, at Wadi Mineh, Wadi Qash and Wadi Um Balad (Eastern Desert), at Gebel Tjauti and west of Armant (Western Desert), but also at most distant places such as Gebel Sheikh Suleiman in Nubia or the Kharga Oasis.6 This confirms that some Predynastic polities were powerful enough to extend their influence far beyond the immediate area of the Nile Valley where they were centred, towards the Red Sea, the western oases or Nubia, not to mention Palestine. The vessels from Dakhla found in the tomb of a chief of Abydos dating from Nagada II or the ceramics from the Nagada culture excavated in the Dakhla Oasis are additional proofs in this respect.7 In this context, Hierakonpolis appears as a crossroads for travel by land and river, connecting the east-west desert routes to the south-north axis of the Nile which led to Nubia and Palestine. The discovery of the bones of a young elephant recalls, in a rather unusual way, the importance of contacts with the Sudan.8 As for the strategic setting of the city, recent analysis of sediments at Hierakonpolis reveals the gradual shift of the Nile across the floodplain, as well as the presence of a waterway to the west of the city in Predynastic times that made early Hierakonpolis an island. However, by the Early Dynastic this channel had been almost entirely filled in, probably when heavy rainfall resulted in increasingly dramatic wadi washout as the desert was deforested and deposits of yellow clays, typical of the desert but uncharacteristic of the Nile Valley, started to appear in the Predynastic and became thicker towards the end of the Early Dynastic.9 Second, the wide distribution of artefacts such as the Clayton rings reveals that pastoral populations travelled extensively through the Eastern Sahara and the Nile Valley during the 4th and early 3rd millennia BCE thanks to the more humid condi-

6

Ikram / Rossi 2004. Hartung / Hartmann 2005; Hope 2006. 8 Friedman 2004. 9 Bunbury 2008. 7

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tions then prevalent in this region.10 The Megalake Chad covered a surface of about 350,000 km² during this period, whereas the West Nubian Palaeolake measured about 5,500 km². Wadi Howar carried perennial water at least in its high and middle sections, and permanent settlers are attested in remote regions such as Gilf el-Kebir. One can also mention the fact that the water emblems carved inside a squarish sign discovered at The-Water-Mountain-of-Redjedef, about 100 km SW of the Dakhla oasis, have been also recently detected at Gala el-Sheikh in Wadi el-Howar, about 700 km south of Dakhla; they probably do not represent an Egyptian hieroglyph but rather some kind of mark used by native populations.11 This vast area offered better conditions for the presence of cattle-breeders and for the circulation of people and goods.12 Nubians were an active element of this picture as they are attested, not only in the Nile Valley, but also in the Western Desert13 and in southernmost Egypt, including Hierakonpolis. In fact, as Gatto has stressed, Upper Egypt and Lower Nubia, and therefore their cultural entities, were not antagonistic to one another, but in the Predynastic period still expressed the same cultural tradition, with strong regional variations. This applied particularly in the last part of the 4th millennium BCE,14 not forgetting that in later periods Hierakonpolis remained a focus of ritual and burial activities for Nubian populations.15 More unexpectedly, the recent discovery of new rock art with exciting ritual scenes in the area of Gebel Uweinat suggests that, possibly, some kind of proto-Egyptian religious beliefs could have left some traces there around 4000 BCE.16 Lastly the importance of Nubian activities and of their contacts with Egypt are particularly visible at the necropolis of Qustul, the burial centre of some powerful Nubian chiefs whose tombs display astonishing wealth, including some high quality artefacts of Egyptian origin. These rulers probably controlled Lower Nubia, which would have formed a political unit prior to the beginning of the Egyptian First Dynasty. Third, the gradual worsening of the climatic conditions of the Eastern Sahara, in a context of increasing aridity, could have led to the gradual disappearance of pastoral activities and human settlement in this region and, as a consequence, the progressive abandonment of many of the land routes. The Nile then became the most important (but by no means unique) route for contacts and exchanges. Also, the decline of Hierakonpolis and the rise of Abydos as the new emergent political power might be understood as the consequence of the movement of the centre of political gravity to a locality better placed for controlling this increasingly crucial axis of communications, as well as the rich agricultural potential of Middle Egypt and the routes to Palestine, where many Egyptian factories or commercial centres were founded prior to the beginning of the First Dynasty.17 Bearing in mind the importance of Hierakonpolis as a ceremonial centre during the Archaic period, one can suggest that its rulers simply moved to Abydos. In fact, the political initiatives of the 10

Kuper 2007. Kröpelin / Kuper 2006–2007. 12 Jesse et al 2007. 13 Lange 2004a, 2004b. 14 Gatto 1996, 2000. 15 Friedman 1992, 2000, 2001; Giuliani 2006. 16 Le Quellec 2005. 17 Van den Brink / Levy 2002. 11


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last Predynastic Upper Egyptian rulers seem to have been aimed at eliminating any rival in the Nile Valley. The conquest of the Delta and the campaigns against Nubia ended with the destruction of the proto-state centred in Qustul and the emergence of Egypt as a single polity. It encompassed the lower section of the Nile Valley, and its capital was further moved to the north, to Memphis, in order to assert better its control over the Delta, an extensive area that covered more than 50% of the agricultural land of the country. The fortress built at Elephantine represents the culmination of the aggressive Egyptian attitude towards her southern neighbours. Nevertheless, Nubians are attested at Elephantine and other localities south of Armant during the Thinite period, and this circumstance prevents us from considering the area of Aswan as a sealed border between two different cultural areas. In any case, the main axes of the military activity carried out by the pharaohs are evident from the very beginning of the Egyptian state until its decay at the end of the 3rd millennium BCE, as they encompassed the Western Desert, the Nile Valley and the adjacent Levantine areas. Intervention in these areas was possible thanks to the creation of logistic centres which provided the necessary facilities for the expeditions sent abroad. One of them was Elephantine, the southernmost Egyptian locality, organised from the beginning as a fortified centre controlling access to Nubia. Its importance explains the complex administrative organisation present from an early date, with governors ruling the city and a multicultural local society formed by soldiers, interpreters, traders, crown officials and Nubians. Later sources, from the end of the Old Kingdom, display in colourful accounts the activities carried out by the local authorities who were, at the same time, the leaders of the caravans sent deep into Nubia, where dangers were not completely absent. As for the Western Oases, the excavations at Balat and other localities at the oasis of Dakhla, as well as the discovery of the so-called “Ballas trail”, are providing increasing evidence concerning the complex organisation of the administrative and logistic base founded by the pharaohs of the Old Kingdom, both for gaining access to remote areas of the desert and for providing alternative routes to Nubia. Lastly, the Eastern Delta seems to have played a similar role as a departure point for expeditions, and some place-names formed with the term Hwt should confirm the existence of local crown centres specialised in storing and delivering supplies to the agents of the king. Some scholars have even suggested the existence of traces of foreigners in the area, apparently of Levantine origin, perhaps settled as mercenaries or traders like their Middle Kingdom successors.18 The biography of a military leader of the Sixth Dynasty called Weni confirms that this was a concentration zone for the armies sent into Palestine, a role well known for later periods of the Egyptian history, especially the area around Tell el-Dab‛a during the Middle and New Kingdoms. What were the aims of Egyptian foreign policy in the geopolitical context of the 3rd millennium and what was the role of war? These two questions are difficult to answer due to the scarcity of the sources at our disposal. Unfortunately, no diplomatic archives have been preserved (if they ever existed) and there are no traces of official contacts with other international powers. Some evidence of gifts and of the circulation of precious goods has been found in Levantine contexts, such as mace-

18

Bietak 2003, 38.

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heads in Palestine or various objects at Ebla.19 It seems that there were two main goals of Egyptian policy. On the one hand, control of the trade networks connecting the vast area between Chad, Sudan, the Red Sea and the Mediterranean. On the other hand, control of direct access to valuable minerals from Sinai and southern Palestine, with Byblos playing the role of trade partner and mediator between Egypt and other Levantine and Near Eastern regions. It is quite symptomatic that the direct involvement of the crown in the circulation of goods (at least of prestige objects such as incense or exotic items from Nubia) led to the organisation of expeditions with highly symbolic importance for the crown20 and to provide the necessary logistics in order to ensure their viability. This does not exclude the existence of private trade, and there is increasing evidence that a provincial elite in the Old Kingdom also imported luxury goods from the Levant.21 War pursued the general goals of eliminating any possible rival, and the expeditions into Nubia or against the Palestine chiefdoms seem more inspired by this aim than by a highly improbable foreign menace. In fact, Nubians were both fought against and incorporated into the Egyptian armed and police forces during the Old Kingdom and later. In this respect, it is quite noteworthy that recent epigraphic discoveries show that incense was one of the principal motives underlying the Egyptian presence in remote areas of the Eastern Sahara. At the other extreme of the geopolitical area of interest for Egypt, in the land of Punt bordering the Red Sea, incense, aromatics and precious minerals formed the bulk of exports to Egypt. It is also significant that the end of Egyptian expeditions to Punt and of its monopoly of the incense trade into Levantine areas, around 1200 BCE, was followed by the rise of new policies and trade networks (the “incense road”) in Ethiopia, South Arabia and the southern Levant. In any case, the main threat was thought to come from Nubia, as the execration texts show.22 Epigraphic evidence confirms this picture, as war appears to have pursued the main goal of controlling trade and strategic routes and areas, and no real foreign dangers can be ascertained. The presence of outposts at such remote (and vulnerable) localities as Buhen, in Nubia, or Balat, in the oasis of Dakhla, would have been unthinkable if any serious menace had threatened their communications with Egypt or their very existence. This is especially the case when considering that these centres were active for centuries and that the archaeological record proves that they could even go back to the beginning of the 3rd millennium. Recent discoveries show that Egyptian expeditions from Balat passed, at least, through remote areas such as Gebel Uweinat, in the far West, and reached the land of Yam and other unattested territories, bringing incense from there.23 It is not possible to determine the enemies and regions fought by the powerful Egyptian armies sent into Nubian territory at the beginning of the Fourth Dynasty (about 2600 BCE), but it is probably not too speculative to think that the scope of these expeditions might be related to the control of access to Punt and its precious imports. King Sneferu, for instance, organised maritime expeditions to the Levant which coincided with the dispatch of armies 19

Lovell 2008; Scandone-Matthiae 2003. El Awady 2006. 21 Förstner-Müller / Raue 2008. 22 Osing 1973, 1976. 23 Clayton / De Trafford / Borda 2008. 20


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against Libya and Nubia, where the fortress of Buhen, about 300 km south of Elephantine, was founded during his reign. King Sahure brought precious goods from Sinai and Punt and sent armies against Nubia. On the contrary, Puntite expeditions could attack Egypt itself in the context of broader Nubian incursions, as 2nd millennium inscriptions from Elkab prove,24 whereas Egyptian armies reached Punt during the 1st millennium BCE.25 Not surprisingly, the foreign policy followed by Sneferu seems inspired by the traditional aim of eliminating any rival in areas strategic to Egyptian interests, such as the Libyans probably in the western Delta and the Nubians living hundreds of kilometres south of the Egyptian border. His campaigns against the Libyans and his maritime expeditions to the Levant were also concomitant with a deep reorganisation of the Delta. The inscriptions of some high officials living at the beginning of the Fourth Dynasty mention many royal centres covering the entire region and replacing former administrative units. Instead, the archaeological record shows the development of a dense network of settlements in the eastern Delta, around the easternmost branch of the Nile, from the beginning of the 3rd millennium throughout the Old Kingdom. This area of the Delta always had a great strategic importance for the crown as a logistical base into Asia, a circumstance which explains why administrative centres and capital cities were founded there, such as Tell el-Dab‛a, Piramesse and Tanis in the 2nd millennium BCE. Also, Old Kingdom inscriptions and texts reveal that it was a fortified area and the departure point of the relevant Ways-of-Horus, the strategic route which led into Asia.26 Yet the western borders seem to have been not so densely settled during the Old Kingdom and extensive cattle breeding and scattered villages seem to have been the norm here.27 A landscape of lakes and marshes, extending west of the western branch of the Nile,28 probably made possible the existence of a porous and rather imprecise frontier. This, in turn, enabled the circulation of Libyan herders and possibly their installation there at the turn of the 4th millennium, as cattle and trees are represented on the so-called Libyan palette. The military campaign led against them by Sneferu, which culminated in the capture of hundreds of prisoners and thousands of cattle, as well as later representations of Libyan prisoners on the royal monuments of the 3rd millennium, suggest that such populations were in contact with Egypt. Yet they did not represent a serious menace for the country as the western borders of the Delta were not fortified (as they were during the Ramesside period) and even the southern oases were apparently free of any (recorded) Libyan attack. Nevertheless, as noted above, the beginning of the Fourth Dynasty was a period when war, the administrative organisation of the kingdom and enormous buildings went hand in hand, apparently a policy adopted to ensure the control of trade routes and the arrival into Egypt of precious goods and, perhaps secondarily, to obtain manpower. Libyans were fought against, probably in the western Delta. Logistical bases were created at centres such as Mut el-Kharab, in the Dakhleh oasis29 and

24

Davies 2003a, 2003b. Petrie 1888, 107, pl. 42. 26 Moreno García 1999, 186–188. 27 Cagle 2003. 28 Khalil 2008. 29 Hope 2008. 25

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inscriptions and seals found on the “Redjedef Mountain” as well as some seals found at Giza prove that expeditions were sent deep into the Eastern Sahara during this period;30 quarries were exploited in the south-western deserts as well as in Sinai; seals with the name of king Khafra have been found at Ayn Sukhna, the maritime Egyptian base at the Suez Gulf from where expeditions were sent into Sinai and the Red Sea during the Old and Middle Kingdoms;31 armies were dispatched into Nubia, a fortress was built hundreds of kilometres south of Egypt and maritime expeditions were sent to the Levant. The titles of some contemporary officials such as Nesutnefer at Giza indicate the presence of fortresses in strategic areas.32 He was the overseer of fortified towers and crown centres (Hwt-aAt) in the eighth and tenth provinces of Upper Egypt. He was also the overseer of royal fortresses, fortified enclosures and deserts in the thirteenth province of Lower Egypt, a province which encompassed during this period a substantial part of the eastern branch of the Nile as well as access to Wadi Tumilat, the transit zone between the Delta and Sinai used by nomad populations. Bearing in mind that desert routes from the eighth and tenth provinces of Upper Egypt connected the valley with the western oasis, it seems that Nesutnefer was responsible for at least some strategic approaches to Egypt as well as the fortresses which controlled them. Conspicuously, the western Delta was not included among his activities. As suggested above, the pharaohs of the Fourth Dynasty seem to have limited themselves to following the basic lines of what had been the traditional Egyptian policy for centuries. War and conquest had culminated, in about the beginning of the 3rd millennium BCE, in control of the final stretch of the Nile and with the (apparent) monopoly of exchanges between inner East Africa and the Mediterranean by a single power, the pharaonic state. The epigraphic sources from the Early Dynastic period (3100–2700 BCE) suggest war and conquest to have been a fundamental, intrinsic and prestigious activity in forming the Egyptian state, at least at a symbolic and ideological level. Many monuments dating from Narmer, usually considered to be the first pharaoh, celebrate war and booty: the scenes of his famous palette condense the warrior and conqueror ethos of the early kings, as they depict the destruction of a walled city, the capture of prisoners, the execution of enemies with two rows of beheaded enemies (a motif also present in other monuments from Hierakonpolis),33 and the heroic image of the sovereign smiting an enemy, all these activities taking place in Lower Egypt. A votive mace-head from his reign shows one row of, apparently, chiefs or some kind of authority appearing before Narmer on his throne. They are represented by numbers that could indicate tribute, booty or simply a census of the Delta or of a smaller area in this region: 120,000 prisoners, 400,000 oxen and 1,422,000 goats (or small cattle).34 The motif of the conquest and destruction of the walls of a fortified city was quite popular in early Egyptian art and inscriptions, suggesting a world of conflict and conquest which continued well into Egyptian history: the base of a limestone statue of pharaoh Khasekhemuy (ca. 2700 BCE) 30

Kuhlmann 2002, 2005; Förster 2008. Pantalacci 2005, 485. 32 Junker 1938, 172–176, figs. 27, 28, 30; Kanawati 2002, 32–33, pl. 53. 33 Droux 2005–2007. 34 Quibell 1900, pl. XXVIB. 31


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represents a line of slain enemies from the Delta, and on the front of it the number 47,209 is written. The incorporation of Lower Egypt into the pharaonic state seems to have been a rather complicated task. It was not completed until the middle of the 3rd millennium if one considers that the administrative organisation of the Delta was still an ongoing process at the beginning of the Fourth Dynasty, and that the division of this region into provinces continued throughout the Old Kingdom, especially its eastern borders, the most densely settled area. But foreign wars were also common during the early centuries of the 3rd millennium, in Libyan territory (as indicated in the Libyan palette), Asia (judging from iconography)35 and Nubia. The frequency of titles formed with the element ad-mr “administrator” or ḫrp “director” and the symbol of a fortified locality is additional evidence of the importance of strongholds in controlling inner and foreign strategic areas, as also happened in other periods of the Egyptian history, such as the end of the Old Kingdom (see infra) or in the Saite period.36 Watch-towers are also mentioned in sources from the Thinite period,37 and they continued in use until the middle of the 3rd millennium.38 Even the most important administrative and production centres of this and the following periods, known as Hwt and Hwt-aAt (lit. “the great Hwt”), were originally towers and they were sometimes mentioned together with fortified centres.39 Circular towers are also known from the archaeological record of the New Kingdom, when they served as surveying posts of the tracks leading to the desert.40 However, from the Fourth Dynasty on, military activity seems to have been rather infrequent: only some scattered references in the Royal Annals mention the arrival of foreign female workers as tribute during the reign of Userkaf (2494–2487 BCE), and a scene of tribute from Libyan rulers was depicted in the funerary temple of Sahure (2487–2475 BCE). Nevertheless it is worth noting that tribute (or even conflict with Libyan dwellers) is not mentioned in the surviving Annals from his reign, and that the same scene and protagonists appear again in many other royal monuments of the Old Kingdom. The symbolic and ideological nature of this socalled “Libyan family” makes it difficult to assert whether the events recorded took really place during Sahure’s reign, if he copied them from another royal monument, whether they may be linked to some kind of conflict, or even whether they simply represent, in Egyptian ideological and cultural terms, some kind of “diplomatic” contact between rulers. The huge amounts of tribute listed (123,400 bulls and cows, 223,200 asses, 232,413 goats and 243,688 rams) seem rather unrealistic for a pastoral population living on the margins of the desert. About a century later, around 2400 BCE, a scene representing Egyptian troops seizing a fortified Asiatic town appears in two tombs, one of them in the mastaba of Inti, the provincial ruler of Deshasha.41 His titles of jmj-r mnww nzwt “overseer of the fortresses of the king” and of provincial ruler are reminiscent of the titles of Nesutnefer at Giza and reveal the range of activities carried out by local governors. These included control over 35

Petrie 1900, pl. XVII. Smolarikova 2008. 37 Petrie 1901, pl. V[10]. 38 Moreno García 1997. 39 Kaplony 1963, pl. 86[322]. 40 Darnell 2002, 139–141. 41 Kanawati / McFarlane 1993, pl. 27. 36

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fortresses and, probably, the command of local contingents into battle, as we shall see. Only at the end of the Old Kingdom, during the Sixth Dynasty, do the sources again contain some references to military activity. The most detailed come from the tomb of Weni of Abydos, a provincial official involved again in commanding expeditions abroad, and whose famous biography contains a thorough account of a great expedition sent into Asia. The recently discovered fragmentary Royal Annals of the Sixth Dynasty include some references to the arrival of “pacified Nubians”, but the context suggests that they were some kind of tribute.42 As for the accounts of the expedition leaders from Elephantine, they carried their missions deep into Nubian country using both the river and the desert routes. The only dangers seem to have been bandits or occasionally reluctant foreign chiefs, but no organised power happens to challenge Egyptian interests or bases, either in Nubia, in the Western Desert or in Asia. It is quite symptomatic in this respect that the collapse of the state at the end of the 3rd millennium was not followed by foreign attacks and that Nubians were incorporated into the armies of the contending local warlords. Bearing in mind all these considerations, it seems that war played a rather marginal role in Egyptian geopolitics after 2600 BCE. Not surprisingly, at the time, foreign invasion was seen in Middle Kingdom literature as a consequence of disorder and the collapse of royal authority, that is to say, as an undesirable secondary effect of internal troubles, not as the result of a tenacious and ultimately victorious power from abroad. Even this menace consisted mainly in the infiltration of nomads and herders into some specific areas of the Delta. These conditions probably explain why it is so difficult to learn about the military organisation of Egypt in the 3rd millennium, or why “military” terms are in general so ambiguous, as they also had “civil” connotations. The Nerve of War: Logistics and Expeditions in 3rd Millennium Egypt The mobilisation of teams of workers was quite common in 3rd millennium Egypt, and there is abundant evidence for the organisation of expeditions to the quarries or the circulation of armies and agents of the crown. The logistics of providing equipment, food and facilities to huge numbers of people on the move or temporarily settled in a given area, quite often outside the Nile Valley proper, were quite substantial for a pre-industrial civilisation such as Pharaonic Egypt. The solution consisted in the creation of a network of warehouses, stockpile centres and agricultural domains of the crown scattered all over the country, which supplied the goods required. Bearing in mind the ambiguity of some titles, such as jmj-r mSa “overseer of the troop (of soldiers or workers)”, we can safely assume that the facilities used by team workers and expeditions at that time were also at the disposal of the troops. In fact, inscriptions like the biography of Weni of Abydos show that this was the case. The most ancient evidence of such a system of crown centres goes back to the Third Dynasty (2686–2613 BCE), the ink inscriptions on the vessels from the funerary complex of Pharaoh Djoser43 and the seal stamps from Elephantine being the 42 43

Baud / Dobrev 1995, 1997. Lacau / Lauer 1959, 1965.


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most important sources for the study of the territorial organisation of the kingdom at this early date.44 First of all, these brief texts reveal the existence of a network of royal agricultural centres (the Hwt-aAt being the most frequently attested whereas the Hwt are also mentioned). These coexisted with the pr “house”/“domain” of some individuals, with some royal domains bearing the name of the god Horus,45 and with some institutions whose name is composed with the element Hwt—perhaps some kind of specialised (royal) workshops.46 The ink inscriptions from another enormous set of vessels, recovered at Abydos and dating from the Second Dynasty, confirm this model as they mention institutions named after the element Hwt, like the Hwtnbw “the Hwt of the gold” or the Hwt-wr(t) “the great Hwt”.47 It seems that the territorial organisation of the kingdom was twofold. It comprised agricultural centres of the crown (Hwt-aAt and Hwt), administered by royal officials (HoA Hwt-aAt and HoA Hwt), and the domains of individuals. Their links to the royal administration are poorly understood, since it is impossible to determine whether they were local magnates who exercised personal control over the territorial units called pr or whether they were royal agents in charge of the administration of these districts. Second, the stamp seals from Elephantine show that this locality acted as a royal fortress and trade centre in the southernmost frontier of the kingdom.48 Many of the stamp seals found, as well as three hieratic inscriptions,49 concern the activities carried out by different officials and crown agents during the Third Dynasty, including the transfer of cereal of some kind involving a chief of a village and an official in charge of ships. Grain also came from the state warehouses in the vicinity of Abydos and they served to pay the agents of the pharaoh in the remote south. Third, the archaeological remains of several small step pyramids from the same period have been recovered at some localities in Upper and Middle Egypt—perhaps significantly not in the Delta— thus asserting the local symbolic presence of the crown.50 This early evidence confirms the importance of a territorial organisation based more on a network of royal warehouses, production centres, agricultural domains and mooring posts scattered all over the country than on a structure of provinces clearly defined and controlled by local governors. Such a system made possible the circulation of products at both local and regional levels, between the royal centres and the local arrival points, under the supervision of a large and complex bureaucracy whose members are prominently mentioned in the inscriptions. The titles of Metjen, from the very beginning of the Fourth Dynasty (about 2620 BCE), show that the administrative organisation of Lower Egypt (where royal centres like Hwt-aAt or Hwt were gradually replacing the districts pr) was far from completed even some centuries after the political unification of the country.51 Some of these institutions are better known from later inscriptions. They served as the centres of royal power and institutional agriculture in the rural countryside. 44

Pätznick 2005. Engel 2004. 46 Engel 2008. 47 Regulski 2004. 48 Pätznick 2005. 49 Dreyer 1987. 50 Seidlmayer 1996, 122–125. 51 Sethe 1933², 1–7. 45

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They were the Hwt-aAt “great Hwt” and the Hwt, a kind of royal farm, warehouse, processing and administrative centre, and defensive building—in fact, the Hwt-hieroglyph represents a tower.52 The differences between the Hwt-aAt and the Hwt were probably only of scale, the first being the centre of larger agricultural units than the second. Later sources show that the Hwt-aAt were only founded in certain regions, where land was particularly abundant, whereas the Hwt figures prominently in almost all the provinces of Upper Egypt as well as in the monuments from the capital (in this case it is almost certain that the texts concern the Hwt of the Delta). The conclusion which can be inferred from the geographical and chronological distribution of these institutions is that the Hwt-aAt are more frequently mentioned than the Hwt in the ink-written texts and in private inscriptions at this early stage of the Egyptian history, a trend confirmed by later documents and which continued until the final centuries of the 3rd millennium. The royal annals record the founding of thirty-five rural establishments (Hwt-aAt or perhaps Hwt) in a single year of Sneferu’s reign, as well as some cattle centres. Another year was celebrated because several agricultural Hwt units were created in Upper and Lower Egypt.53 The extent of this policy is further corroborated by the importance of the lists of Hwt in his mortuary temple and by the inscriptions of some of his officials. Metjen’s activities, for instance, mainly concerned the Delta, where he was in charge of many royal agricultural centres Hwt-aAt and Hwt as well as of agricultural units named grgt and aHt.54 The inscriptions and the administrative titles of other officials living in the early part of the Fourth Dynasty, like Pehernefer, Netjeraperef, Isi or Nesutnefer confirm this picture.55 The titles of Nesutnefer, mentioned already, suggest that the control of workers and defensive buildings or watchtowers (the swnw towers) usually went together in some provinces in Upper Egypt. The same concern for the control of manpower in combination with watch-towers in some Upper Egyptian provinces is included among the duties of some officials of the Fourth and Fifth Dynasties.56 Finally, the royal annals of the Fifth Dynasty (2494– 2345 BCE) contain detailed descriptions of the numerous fields allotted to the provincial temples by the king, sometimes involving a considerable surface area, up to about 350 arouras (= 96 ha).57 Therefore, temples, Hwt-aAt, grgt and the towers swnw were the most conspicuous elements of the rural landscape during the Fourth and Fifth dynasties. Their frequency in the titles held by high officials, usually with extensive territorial responsibilities, shows the importance attached by the crown to the production, storing, control and delivery of agricultural items, especially in the regions close to the capital, Memphis (Lower Egypt and some provinces in Middle Egypt).58 The enormous building projects of the pharaohs of the Fourth Dynasty, for example, were only possible thanks to the mobilisation of a large number of workers and of raw materials, as well as to a complex labour organisation whose traces can 52

Moreno García 1998, 1999. Sethe 1933², 236. 54 Sethe 19332, 1–5; Moreno García 1996. 55 Moreno García 1999, 233–238; 2001; 2007. 56 Moreno García 1997a. 57 Sethe 19332, 235–249. 58 Moreno García 1996, 1997a, 1998. 53


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be found at the pyramid workers’ city at Giza. The beginning of the Sixth Dynasty (2345–2181 BCE) was a period of important changes in the organisation of the network of crown centres.59 Its main elements in the provinces (swnw, Hwt-aAt, grgt) were replaced by the Hwt. Although the Hwt appears from an early date in the epigraphic record, its role seems rather secondary when compared to other royal agricultural centres such as the Hwt-aAt. But the situation changed at the end of the Fifth Dynasty, when the title HoA Hwt “governor of a Hwt” became commonly attested in most provinces of Upper Egypt. In fact, Hwt is virtually the only royal agricultural centre that is mentioned in the monuments of the seven southernmost provinces of Egypt. The extent and increase of the Hwt in the Egyptian rural landscape is further corroborated by the fact that nearly 90% of the about two hundred HoA Hwt known from 3rd millennium sources existed during the Sixth Dynasty and the end of the 3rd millennium.60 Their geographical distribution in Lower and Upper Egypt was quite similar, but they were conspicuously absent from or rather rare in some Upper Egyptian localities like El-Hawawish, Elkab and Coptos. These were precisely the centres where the local temples happened to be the most important institutions and where powerful families monopolised the function of chief of the local sanctuary for many generations. In fact, temples and Hwt were part of a network of economic and productive centres spread all over the country and more or less dependent on the crown. Their production was usually at the disposal of the king’s officials, as stated in the letter sent by pharaoh Pepi II to Herkhuf of Aswan, about 2270 BCE: “Orders have been brought to the governor(s) of the new localities, the companion(s) and the overseer(s) of priests to command that supplies be furnished from what is under the charge of each from every Hwt belonging to a processing centre and from every temple, without any exemption”.61 The role played by the Hwt in providing the agents of the king with supplies is also exemplified by the inscriptions of Hatnub, which mention the equipment delivered by the local Hwt to the teams of workers sent to the quarries, the organisation of the expeditions by an overseer of Hwt, or the close relationship between the Hwt and the agricultural domains nwt mAwt (graffiti 1 & 6).62 This was also pointed out in the autobiography of Herkhuf just quoted and in a fragmentary inscription from the beginning of the Sixth Dynasty.63 A fragmentary text from the tomb of Ibi, governor of Deir el-Gebrawi, shows that fields of considerable size (about 50 ha.) belonged to a Hwt which, at the same time, depended on a processing centre, as in Herkhuf’s inscription.64 A hieratic record from Elephantine, dated about 2000 BCE, mentions the deliveries of cereals, dates and cattle made by a governor of a Hwt to several dignitaries, including one envoy who arrived at Elephantine on a mission for the king, showing the practical functioning of the Hwt system, as in Herkhuf’s times.65 Finally, another contemporary early Middle Kingdom administrative document lists the various kinds of textile items delivered to an 59

Moreno García 1999, 241–265; 2007. Moreno García 1999, 252–253. 61 Sethe 19332, 131. 62 Anthes 1928. 63 Sethe 1933², 87. 64 Sethe 1933², 144–145. 65 Von Pilgrim 1996, 285–300. 60

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overseer of the seal during his journey to Per-Ikhekh. He received them from a warehouse, a working centre (xnrt) and a village or royal centre called ¡wt-£ttj “the Hwt of (king) Khety”.66 So the Hwt appears as a crucial link in the geographical tax system of the Old Kingdom: they were founded in almost every province, they acted as agricultural centres provided with fields, cattle and workers, they were also local warehouses where agricultural products were stored and delivered to the royal agents in mission. Together with the temples and the processing installations, these domains of the crown formed a network of royal centres for the collection of taxes and the mobilisation of the labour force of the country. The growing importance of the Hwt is also evident in the ideological representation of the Egyptian landscape when, from the beginning of the Sixth Dynasty, the Hwt replaces the grgt as one of the most conspicuous elements of the countryside.67 Arsenals are also known in Egyptian sources from the 3rd millennium. In fact, these “houses of weapons” were a specific department within the Egyptian administration, usually under the control of the vizier and the overseers of works, missions and the treasury. Once again, it can be noticed that they did not belong to a separate military sphere.68 Even the navy lacks any specific military organisation, as it was used both for civil purposes and for war. In fact, ship captains could lead not only naval forces but also land expeditions, and it was not infrequent that the same person was both “general” and “admiral” or the leader of an expedition.69 The importance of logistics probably underlies the famous description of the preparations for the huge expedition against Asiatics and nomads commanded by Weni of Abydos, in about 2300 BCE: “When His Majesty repelled the Aamu and the Sand-dwellers, His Majesty put together an army of many tens of thousands, from all of Upper Egypt (from Elephantine [in the South] to Medenyt [in the] North), from Lower Egypt with all its cattle-breeding centres, from Sedjer and Khensedjer, with Nubians of the land of Irtjet, Nubians of the land of Medja, Nubians of the land of Yam, Nubians of the land of Wawat and Nubians of the land of Kaau, as well as the Tjemehu. His Majesty sent me at the head of this army having dignitaries, seal-bearers of the king of Lower Egypt, sole companions of the Great Mansion, chiefs and governors of Hwt of Upper and Lower Egypt, companions and overseers of foreigners, overseers of priests of Upper and Lower Egypt, and overseers of processing centres at the head of the troops of Upper and Lower Egypt, as well as of the Hwt and towns that they ruled, and of the Nubians of those foreign lands. It was I who used to command them, though my rank was (only) that of an overseer of the khenty-she of the palace, because of my rectitude, so that no one did any harm to his fellow, so that no one seized the loaf or the sandals of a traveller, so that no one took cloth from any town, so that no one took a goat from anyone. I led them from the Island of the North, the Gate of Imhotep, the district of the Horus Lord-of-Truth (= king Sneferu), while I was in this position”.70 What we can learn from this passage, once the rhetoric has been left out, is that the organisation of a great expedition was a complex 66

Simpson 1986, 14, pl. 14. Moreno García 1999, 117–150. 68 Chevereau 1987, 40–44. 69 Chevereau 1989. 70 Sethe 1933², 101–102. 67


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matter involving not only the recruitment of contingents on an (apparently) local basis, but also the participation of several kinds of authorities whose main administrative concern was providing supplies to the envoys, workers and dignitaries in mission. This is probably why cattle-breeding centres, governors of Hwt of Upper and Lower Egypt, overseers of the priests of Upper and Lower Egypt, and overseers of processing centres are mentioned, as their duties included, specifically, the management, storing and delivery of agricultural and craft products. Not surprisingly, Weni boasts of not having used force to take the provisions and equipment needed by his army. This concern also explains why similar statements, with the emphasis put on not seizing goods by force, appear in the inscriptions of other leaders of expeditions. Sabni of Aswan, for instance, proclaimed “I never permitted that the sandal or bread of any man be stolen” during the expedition he led into Nubia.71 In fact, temples were also supposed to furnish personnel to various state departments that drew up lists of workers fit for service, as some royal decrees show. These same documents also reveal that deliveries suitable for supplying expeditions, such as ropes, animal feed, skins and labour for carrying and transporting material, were usually requested from sanctuaries, unless a special and temporary exemption was granted by the king.72 In any case, Weni’s rhetorical claims find a later echo in the inscription of the steward Henu, sent on an expedition to Wadi Hammamat about 2000 BCE: “[My lord] sent [me] to conduct sea-going ships to the land of Punt, to bring him fresh myrrh from the chiefs ruling the Red Land, owing to the fear of him throughout the foreign lands. Then I set out from Coptos on the way His Majesty had commanded me, with me being an army of Upper Egypt from the garrisons of the Theban nome, from Imyotru to Shabet. All royal offices from town and country were assembled and followed me, and four companies of police cleared the way before me, smiting any who rebelled against the king. Hunters and natives of the deserts were employed as bodyguards, and all His Majesty’s councillors were placed under my control to announce messengers to me, the sole commander whom millions obey. Setting out with an army of 3000 men I made the road into a river, the desert into a field border. For I gave a water skin and a bread bag, with two djes-measures of water and twenty loaves, to every one of them every day. Donkeys were laden with sandals; when a foot became unshod another (sandal) was ready”.73 Recent archaeological and epigraphic discoveries made at the oasis of Dakhla, in the Western Desert, provide new evidence of the complex logistics involved when preparing expeditions or the journeys of some officials. One example comes from some clay tablets dated about 2200 BCE: “This servant declares: inform the courier who is in the counsel that the potter has not yet arrived at the locality of Rudjet to prepare the trip of the chief /governor of Demyu. May the ka of the courier order that a potter be sent”74; “the royal noble and messenger Rensi to the seal-bearer Rensi: I have sent him to …of the children of the chief/governor. Make these accounts for the administrator Rensi”.75 Furthermore, recent discoveries reveal the existence of an 71

Habachi 1981, 19–22, fig. 5. Sethe 1933², 284–293. 73 Lichtheim 1988, 53. 74 Pantalacci 1998, 306–311. 75 Pantalacci 1998, 311–313. 72

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ancient desert route running from the oasis of Dakhla to, at least, the plateau of Gilb Kebir and Jebel Uweinat, covering more than 400 km. Numerous stations with pottery deposits have been found, some 30 in all, sometimes consisting of several dozen jars and most of them dating from the late Old Kingdom and First Intermediate Period, at the very end of the 3rd millennium.76 These deposits mainly served as artificial water reservoirs and storage depots. They seem to have been established at regular intervals of three days’ travel, apparently based on the donkey’s ability to go for up three days without water, enabling caravans of an estimated 50–100 donkeys to cross the region between Dakhla and the Gilf Kebir in about two weeks.77 The final destination of the route is still obscure, even though the next stage was Jebel Uweinat, where a recently discovered hieroglyphic inscription, dating from around 2000 BCE, mentions the bringing of incense from the land of Yam.78 From here it was possible to reach more southerly regions in the territory of modern Sudan or Chad, such as the land of Yam or the unknown region of Tekhebet also mentioned in this inscription. The hieroglyphic texts found at the “Redjedef Mountain” prove that expeditions of about 400 men could use this route.79 Instead, Herkhuf of Elephantine declares in his autobiography that he led a caravan of 300 donkeys to the land of Yam going from the Thinite nome on the oasis road to the land of Yam, an alternative route to the “road of Elephantine”, stretching into Nubia along the Nile. But dangers could also come from the deserts surrounding Dakhla oasis. The archaeological remains found in about a dozen hilltop sites controlling access to the oasis from the east and south indicate that their principal purpose was to control approaching traffic. The depictions of soldiers and the seal impressions recovered suggest that these observation posts formed part of the military infrastructure of the region. In fact, in one of them, Nephthys Hill, a stone slab was found depicting a soldier and some arrows.80 Finally, a different logistic organisation can be ascertained in south Sinai thanks to archaeological and epigraphic finds. The main goal of the expeditions sent to this area was the exploitation of the local turquoise mines. Recent archaeological digs at the site of Ayn Sukhna, at the Gulf of Suez, have revealed that this Middle Kingdom maritime base was in fact already in service during the Fourth and Fifth Dynasties, as seals with the names of kings Khafra and Nyuserra have been recovered there (around 2550–2425 BCE).81 This base enabled expeditions to be sent not only to Sinai but also to the Red Sea. The titles of Kaaper, an official buried at Abusir and who lived about 2490 BCE, cast some light on the organisation of such missions. His titles included the quite unusual functions of “herdsman of the dappled cattle”, “scribe of the pasture lands of the dappled cattle”, “scribe of the king’s army in Wenet, in Serer, (in) Tepa, in Ida, (in) the Terraces of the Turquoise, in the western and eastern foreign lands”, as well as “great one of the tens of Upper Egypt” and various other scribal titles. The toponyms Wenet, Serer, Tepa and Ida are written

76

Förster 2007a. Förster 2007a, 130. 78 Clayton / De Trafford / Borda 2008. 79 Kuhlmann 2002 and 2005; Förster 2008. 80 Kaper / Willems 2002. 81 Pantalacci 2005, 485. 77


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inside ovals and some of them are known from other sources to have been fortified centres related to the Eastern Delta. As for the “Terraces of the Turquoise”, it was the name for the turquoise mining site of Wadi Maghara in Sinai, that was exploited from 2660 BCE principally for copper ore.82 So, Kaaper was responsible for several fortified military camp-sites situated behind the north-eastern Egyptian border and connected to the exploitation of the mines at Wadi Maghara. His titles of scribe of the king’s army at those locations and of “great one of the tens of Upper Egypt”, a title involving the recruitment and organisation of manpower, further corroborate his activities as an expedition leader to foreign lands. Furthermore, his exceptional titles of “herdsman of the dappled cattle” and “scribe of the pasture lands of the dappled cattle” suggest that he was also involved with the administration of herds and pastures and, probably, with supplying foodstuff to the troops under his command. It might be worth remembering in that respect that providing animals in order to provision armies and teams of workers was frequently mentioned in Egyptian inscriptions of the 3rd millennium.83 Consequently, the scribal activities of Kaaper imply that he was in charge of a full chain of logistical responsibilities related to equipping, provisioning and commanding foreign expeditions, from the pastures and flocks which provided sustenance both for men and animals, to the troops and the fortified campsites where these were quartered and, finally, the mines. Recent excavations in south Sinai have revealed the existence of one of these forts, dating to around 2250 BCE. It is a circular limestone structure that measured about 44 metres in diameter, with walls 7 metres wide and preserved up to 3.5 metres in height in some areas. The fort could have accommodated a small garrison of between 25 and 30 soldiers with easy access to anchorage facilities at the nearby coast.84 Raising Armies: Recruitment, Mercenaries and the Role of Local Leaders The logistical organisation just outlined allowed for the equipment of teams of workers, armies and crown agents when accomplishing the services due to the Pharaoh. Like many other pre-industrial societies facing similar problems of transport, the Pharaonic state created a network of storehouses, production centres, temples and specialised installations at regular distances along the Nile, which provided the necessary facilities where and when needed. But if logistics made possible the circulation of troops, the sources also throw some light on such practical issues as the provenance and the number of men who could be mobilised and equipped thanks to this organisation. They also help to evaluate the capacities of mobilisation by the state in the 3rd millennium. Some texts from the Old and Middle Kingdom indicate the number of soldiers or workers participating in an army or an expedition, whilst recent archaeological work provides some rough estimations of the personnel that could be supplied by the state in a single place. One can think, for instance, of the 20,000 men settled in the “Workmen’s City” at Giza when they were building the Fourth Dynasty pyramids.85 82

Barta 2001, 143–191. Anthes 1928, 18–19, pl. 9–9a; Sethe 1933², 259. 84 Mumford 2005, 2006. 85 Hawass 1996; Conrad / Lehner 2001; Lehner 2004. 83

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This locality not only provided accommodation but also included bakeries, butcheries and store-houses where rations were prepared and distributed to the workers. It is quite probable that the network of royal centres founded by king Sneferu was in fact a precondition for the large-scale mobilisation of armies and workers during his reign, especially when considering the huge number of workers that had to be supplied at centres like the “Workmen’s City” or the quarries. As a matter of fact, two inscriptions from Khor el-Aquiba, in northern Nubia, record the passage of an Egyptian army of 20,000 men during the Fourth Dynasty: “The acquaintance of the king in the seventeenth province of Upper Egypt, Khabaubat, came with an army of 20,000 men to hack up the land of Wawat”, and “the acquaintance of the king in the northern part of the four-teenth province of Lower Egypt, Zauib: 17,000 Nubians were taken”.86 A later text, recording the great expedition of the year 38 sent by king Senusret I to the quarries of Wadi Hammamat (1918 BCE), states that it consisted of 17,000 conscripts, 1,000 warriors, 20 “mayors” and several hundred specialists, totalling about 18,500 men. These figures bear comparison with the army of 20,000 soldiers and some additional auxiliary troops that fought the Hittite troops at Qadesh during the reign of Rameses II. Therefore it seems that 20,000 men was the largest single troop that could be handled by the logistical organisation of the kingdom. Of course, other troops or teams of workers could also be dealt with by the state at the same time, but at different places. An example would be the thousands of workers occupied in building activities or the thousands of quarrymen working in such a demanding environment as the quarries and mines in the desert. In any case, these figures also recall the rhetorical “many tens of thousands” mentioned in Weni’s inscription. Little is known about the recruitment and training of soldiers during the Old Kingdom, but the inscriptions of Weni or those found at Khor el-Aquiba reveal that the contingents were levied on a local basis, with mayors and provincial authorities often heading the troops raised in their respective districts. In fact, it seems that the same system was employed indiscriminately when organising either armies or teams of workers, a situation in accordance with the absence of a clearly defined military sphere in the administration. This differed from the New Kingdom, say, when a true army organisation was set up by the Pharaohs. The autobiographical inscription of Amenemhet, the provincial governor of Beni Hasan in the early Middle Kingdom, is a good example of this ambiguity. Given his position of local supreme military authority, Amenemhet, always at the head of his provincial troops, joined three separate expeditions organised by the crown, in one case to fight the Nubians and on the other two occasions to collect gold. For the last two missions he quoted the number of soldiers under his command, totalling 400 and 600 conscripts respectively.87 The system prevalent during the Old Kingdom seems rather similar, with provincial leaders in charge both of local contingents and of entire “national” armies (as in the Khor el-Aquiba inscriptions). When the number of the local troops is indicated, it is quite close to that in Amenemhet inscription. For example, the 1,600 men sent on a single expedition to the quarries of Hatnub, during the reign of Pepy II in the late Old Kingdom, came from three different localities which provided, respectively, 500, 86 87

López 1967. Lichtheim 1988, 138.


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600 and 500 men.88 Turning again to the Middle Kingdom sources, inscription number 6 of Wadi el-Hudi states that an expedition to these amethyst quarries included 1,000 recruits from Thebes, 100 warriors from Kom Ombo and 200 warriors from Elephantine,89 whereas the great expedition sent to Wadi Hammamat during year 38 of king Senusret I comprised 17,000 conscripts and 20 “mayors”, suggesting an average of 850 men per district. The steward Henu, sent on a mission to the same area in around 2000 BCE, was in command of a troop of 3,000 men who came “from the garrisons of the Theban province, from Imyotru to Shabet”, that is to say, from provinces 4–6 of Upper Egypt,90 whilst another expedition to these quarries included 10,000 men “from the southernmost provinces of Upper-Egypt, south of the garrisons of the Theban province” or, in other words, from provinces 1–3 of the South.91 Drawing up lists of workers to be mobilised was a common administrative practice, and it is apparent in Old Kingdom sources such as the royal decrees from Coptos or the Gebelein papyri.92 The basic territorial unit from where workers were recruited seems to have been the village or town, sometimes grouped into larger districts known as pr “house, domain” and placed under the authority of a dignitary or a local potentate. The ink inscriptions from Djeser’s pyramid, the Gebelein papyri and the biographical statements of Metjen,93 all dating from the late Early Dynastic Period and the early Old Kingdom, show that such territorial units consisted of several localities. Shortly afterwards they disappeared from the administrative record until the end of the Old Kingdom, when pr again recovered its former geographical meaning. In all these cases it was quite common for pr districts to be named after individuals, a feature which might hint at the existence of local potentates: one notorious example is pr-¢ww “the house/domain of ¢ww”, ¢ww being a governor of Edfu in the First Intermediate Period whose name was used to designate the three southernmost provinces of Upper Egypt. With these considerations in mind, it might be easier to understand why in some cases the geographical provenance of workteams was indicated either by the name of the village from which they came or by the name of the official in charge of a specific region, as if his name had some kind of toponymic value, like the teams from the rmnjjt “domains” or from the fieldsxbsw of various potentates.94 Even more extraordinary is the case of the officials designated as bw “place”, whose names were followed by the determinative for a town, to express the geographical provenance of certain groups of workers.95 Under these conditions, local leaders could easily turn the levying of workers as provincial troops into forming private armies when the central government collapsed. This may explain both the frequency of “generals” in many provinces of southern Egypt at the end of the Old Kingdom and the late 3rd millennium heroic topos of the local chief leading his fellow citizens into battle. In fact, the crisis of the centralised state at the end of the Old Kingdom saw the 88

Anthes 1928, pl. 11. Sadek 1980, 16–17, pl. 3. 90 Lichtheim 1988, 53. 91 Couyat / Montet 1912, 99. 92 Sethe 1933², 281–282, 285; Posener-Krieger 2004. 93 Sethe 1933², 1–5. 94 Arnold 1990, 26; Simpson 1965, pl. 13. 95 Simpson 1965, pl. 12. 89

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emergence of many local ambitious leaders whose power was based, partly at least, on their capacity to raise provincial armies. The last pharaohs of the Old Kingdom were apparently obliged to rely on the support of some provincial loyal leaders in order to exert their authority and suppress rebellion. In such a troubled context, military qualities became highly praised both in the artistic and the “literary” record, so allowing for the development of a heroic ethos that further stressed the capabilities of local rulers. The epigraphic sources from this period mention “generals” or chiefs of troops in provinces like Edfu, Mo‛alla, Gebelein, Thebes, Dendera, Naga ed-Der, Akhmim, Hagarsa or Siut. Some of them have left extensive records where they display the new qualities of bravery, personal initiative and military success, Ankhtifi being doubtless the most prominent but not the only one. So, when rebels arose in the provinces of Thebes and Coptos, apparently the king and his representatives in the Thinite province were unable to send an army but preferred instead to instruct Ankhtifi, the ruler of Mo‛alla, to fight the new menace and restore order, relying only on his own means.96 Later on, the Herakleopolitan kings of northern Egypt sought the support of powerful local rulers loyal to their cause, like the governors of Siut, in their struggle against the rising power of their Theban rivals. To sum up, the absence of a regular army and the fact of relying on local militia raised and commanded by provincial leaders proved to be risky for the central power. Even the palatine guard, formed by a class of courtiers and dignitaries called khentiu-she, appeared on occasion to have been somewhat untrustworthy, and references to the dismissal of some of their members are known in Egyptian sources from the Sixth Dynasty.97 Three new military features seem to have accompanied the growing importance of local warlords at the end of the Old Kingdom: a more formal system of recruiting and training troops, the building of fortresses and the use of Nubian mercenaries. Texts from the beginning of the 2nd millennium BCE mention a new system of military organisation, where fighters were classified depending on their degree of training and specialisation, like the young recruits DAmw and the warriors aHAwtjw.98 Such a system was unknown during the Old Kingdom and, as has been stated above, the ambiguity of the terminology used probably masks the absence of a true military sphere that is clearly differentiated from an administrative point of view. This is shown, for instance, by the terms “general”/“chief of troops (of workers)”, or “recruit”/“young worker” (nfrw). Recent evidence demonstrates that the roots of the military organisation of the Middle Kingdom are to be sought not in the Old Kingdom but in the troubled period which followed. That is the case, for instance, of the first appearance of the term DAmw with a military meaning. It was the current designation of recruits and inexperienced soldiers as opposed to aHAwtjw “warriors” from the Middle Kingdom on,99 and is mentioned in a context of fighting in a First Intermediate Period fragmentary inscription from Hagarsa, from Middle Egypt.100 In particular, the term aHAwtj also becomes common in late 3rd millennium inscriptions, 96

Vandier 1950. Kanawati 2003, 14–24. 98 Fields 2007. 99 Stefanović 2007. 100 Kanawati 1995, 15. 97


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whereas another expression with military connotations, anx n nwt “soldier of the town militia”, goes back to the same period.101 It seems as if the new and demanding fighting capabilities, in a context of armed conflicts between warlords and local rulers, made it necessary to improve the training of provincial forces. But the mass of simple combatants continued to be formed by the Hsbw “conscripts”, as the inscriptions of the Middle Kingdom prove: they were commanded by their leaders both in war and on working expeditions. They are carefully distinguished from the warriors in the inscription of the great expedition sent to the quarries of Wadi Hammamat in year 38 of king Senusret I. Given the troubled nature of the times, late Old Kingdom and First Intermediate Period inscriptions mention not only the existence of local generals but also of fortresses. An official from Dendera, the overseer of priests called Mereri, claims that he had built a fortress and that he was beloved by the Nubians of the desert,102 whilst Ankhtifi of Mo‛alla boasts of having captured the fortresses of Armant: “The overseer of the army of Armant came saying: ‘Behold, oh brave one! Sail down (to) the fortresses [of Armant? …]’. So I sailed down to the districts west of Armant and I found that Thebes and Coptos in their entirety had […] the fortresses of Armant in (the area of) The-hill-of-Sekhemsen […] I sailed upstream in order to demolish their fortresses with the brave troops of Mo‛alla”.103 In the course of his campaign against the rebels, Ankhtifi also besieged the fortified town of Sega: “Its walls were besieged after it had closed its front gate from fear”.104 Another provincial governor, Neheri of Hermopolis, stressed his protective role towards his people by claiming to be “a fighting fortress in the midst of a district”105. Capturing the fortresses of the enemy allowed the Theban king Antef II to extend the frontiers of his kingdom northwards: “It was in the valley of Hezi that I drove in the mooring-post. I took possession of the Thinite province in its entirety, (after) I had opened all its (i.e., of the province of Aphroditopolis) fortresses (and after) I had made it (i.e., the province of Aphroditopolis) as a (protective) door behind”.106 Another fragmentary inscription from his reign mentions the conquest of a province or a region and the fortresses and agriculture centres in the area just submitted: “I was the mighty one […] arm with my troops. As for any army which I sailed with […] I came from there in peace after I had accomplished it without any losses on its part […] I have fought with […] having nourished its governors and its chiefs of army […] in the northern agricultural centres (Hwt) and in […] fortress”.107 Therefore provincial fortresses became a new element of the provincial landscape during the late Old Kingdom and First Intermediate Period, probably intended to complete the long-established role of (fortified) agricultural and administrative centres like the Hwt as local bases of power. In fact, the Hwt were favoured by both the Herakleopolitan and the Theban kings as economic poles and centres of royal order and authority. Rediu-Khnum, a steward of the Theban queen Nefrukayet, claimed that “she has resettled Upper Egypt, the van 101

Berlev 1971. Fischer 1968, 138, 140. 103 Vandier 1950, 198–199. 104 Vandier 1950, 202–203. 105 Anthes 1928, 43. 106 Clère / Vandier 1948, 10–11. 107 Arnold 1976, 50–51, pl. 52. 102

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of men, from Elephantine to the Aphroditopolite province, with women together with governors of Hwt and dignitaries from the whole land”.108 As for the Herakleopolitan kingdom, several Hwt named after king (or kings) Khety are attested in later sources: one of them, for instance, delivered various kinds of textile items to an overseer of the seal during his journey to Per-Ikhekh,109 whereas another was founded in the eastern Delta;110 its name (¡wt-rA-wAtj-£tjj “the Hwt at the crossroads of Khety”) and its location in an important strategic area, leading to the south-western Levant, point to the continuity of these royal centres as pivotal logistic bases for the monarchy. Not surprisingly literary texts like the Teaching for Merikare state that founding Hwt was essential if the Pharaoh intended to protect the frontiers of his kingdom: “Arm your borders against the South—they are barbarians who take up the war belt! Build Hwt in the Delta! A man’s name will not be little, being what he has done. A well-founded town cannot be destroyed. Build a Hwt for your image! The enemy loves grieving the heart, and vile deeds”.111 The third innovation that appeared at the end of the Old Kingdom is the increasing use of Nubian mercenaries. Nubians figure occasionally in Old Kingdom sources as auxiliaries of the Egyptian army and even as police forces. The inscription in Weni’s tomb mentioning the huge expedition he commanded included several references: “Nubians of the land of Irtjet, Nubians of the land of Medja, Nubians of the land of Yam, Nubians of the land of Wawat and Nubians of the land of Kaau” and “the Nubians of those foreign lands”.112 And the royal decree of Pepy I from Dahshur mentions “pacified Nubians” acting as policemen authorised to enrol men or seize goods, unless otherwise stated: “My Majesty has decreed […] that it is forbidden that any officiant of these two pyramid towns, who has been or will be in their register, be taken away by any man or by any pacified Nubian (just) because they were with them before. They have no right thereto […] that it is forbidden that any pacified Nubian should come along with the intention of carrying out requisitions in these two pyramid towns”.113 Quite significantly, they were not allowed to become priests or to benefit from the prebends usually bestowed on the personnel of the sanctuaries: “My Majesty has decreed […] that it is forbidden for any man who is beholden to these pacified Nubians to enter into the wab-priesthood, monthly priesthood or to eat any rations in the temple which is in these two pyramid towns”.114 “Pacified Nubians” are also referred to in some passages of the fragmentary royal annals of the Sixth Dynasty, but the role of Nubians was less submissive than Egyptian sources suggest. Execration texts, for instance, refer to “any Nubian who may rebel in the foreign lands of Irtjet, Wawat, Satju, Yam, Kaau, Yankh, Masit (?), Medja or Meterti, and who may revolt”,115 showing that they were considered a potential menace that needed to be taken seriously. The importance of Nubians might be better understood when considering that 108

Lichtheim 1988, 43. Simpson 1986, 14, pl. 14. 110 Goedicke 2002. 111 Parkinson 1997, 224. 112 Sethe 1933², 101–102. 113 Goedicke 1967, 56. 114 Goedicke 1967, 56. 115 Osing 1976, 146, 153. 109


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their homeland and activities were in no way limited to the banks of the Nile. Archaeological evidence indicates that in north-western Sudan, where better climatic conditions prevailed around the end of the 3rd millennium BCE, highly mobile groups of pastoralists roamed vast areas of the eastern Sahara. The specific pottery of these groups has been found, for example, in the Laqiya region, in Wadi Hariq and as far as Wadi Howar in the south.116 Förster statements that the transhumance cycles of the nomads not only encompassed these areas, but also the Uweinat region and the Nile Valley south of the third cataract, and that the Abu Ballas Trail may have been part of a route that ultimately led to the Nile Valley in Upper Nubia, have received full confirmation by the recent discovery of a late 3rd millennium inscription at Jebel Uweinat which mentions bringing incense from the lands of Yam, in Nubia, and Tekhebet.117 Nubians crossing the desert are attested in Egyptian sources of the late 3rd millennium, like the inscription of Mereri, an overseer of priests in Dendera: “I am one beloved of Dendera in its entirety, praised of his city, beloved of passers-by and the Nubians of the desert”.118 Other texts confirm the presence of Nubians in the desert, for example, the contemporary inscription of Tjemerery, governor of Thinis (“overseer of the army […] in repelling foreigners who came down from the southern foreign lands”, where the foreigners presumably came via the oasis route connecting the Thinite province with Nubia)119. Another example is a magical text mentioning “the Nubian woman who has come from the desert”.120 Tjemerery assertion proves that Nubians could penetrate deep into Egypt following not only the Nile but also the desert routes, and their presence in Hierakonpolis even in the 2nd millennium BCE is well attested.121 In this context, royal military activities against the Nubians, at the beginning of the Middle Kingdom, affected both the oases and Lower Nubia, one king Mentuhotep being mentioned in the Uweinat inscription just quoted while another proclaimed that “Wawat and the oasis, I annexed them to Upper Egypt”.122 A Theban overseer of desert hunters and overseer of the western deserts from the same period stated that “I reached the western oasis, searched all its routes and brought back the fugitives I found there, the army being safe and without losses”.123 Finally, Henenu, an official serving Mentuhotep II, boasted of having taxed for his sovereign “Thinis of the Thinite province and the Aphroditopolite province” as well as being “the treasurer of the [products?] of the oasis”,124 as Djemi had also done: “I taxed the people of Wawat for any chief who appeared in this province in bringing taxes (also) from the Thinite province, and I was praised for it”.125 As can be seen, the Nubian land of Wawat and the Thinite nome were frequently mentioned together. Thus, the geopolitical importance of desert routes, the expeditions into Nubia, the participation of Sudanese contingents in Egyptian armies, and the settlement of 116

Kröpelin / Kuper 2006–2007; Kuper 2007; Förster 2007b, 8. Clayton / De Trafford / Borda 2008. 118 Fischer 1968, 138. 119 Fischer 1968, 141. 120 Koenig 1987, 104. 121 Friedman 1992, 2000. 122 Fischer 1964, 112–118. 123 Liepe / Priese 1991, 53. 124 Hayes 1949. 125 Goedicke 1960. 117

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“pacified Nubians” in Egypt during the last centuries of the Old Kingdom reveal long-term contacts which probably paved the way for the use of Nubian mercenaries by local warlords during the First Intermediate Period. A colony of such soldiers was established at Gebelein, near Thebes, and their monuments in the Egyptian style as well as their acquisition of goods and properties reveal their integration into Egyptian society, whilst still being depicted as Nubian and retaining their ethnic identity.126 The resulting mixed population of Nubians and Egyptians is echoed in the stele of one of these mercenaries called Qedes: “I was an excellent citizen who acted with his strong arm, foremost of his entire generation. I acquired oxen and goats. I acquired granaries with Upper Egyptian barley. I acquired title to a [great?] field. I made a boat of 30 (cubits) and a small boat which ferried him who had no boat across during the inundation-season. It was in the house of my father Iti that I did this, (but) it was my mother Ibeb who acquired it for me. I surpassed everyone in this entire town in swiftness, its Nubians as well as its Upper Egyptians”.127 In a monumental rock-inscription, another Nubian soldier described his career in the service of the Theban kings and his military activities in Nubia, the Western Desert and Upper and Lower Egypt: “Stela which Tjehemau made: Year of smiting (?) the foreign country. The year of my beginning to fight during the reign of Nebhepetre in the army, when it went south to Ben. (My) son went down with me towards the king. He (= the king) traversed the entire land, having decided to slaughter the Aamu of Djaty. When it would approach (in opposition), Thebes was in flight. It was the Nubian who brought about the rally. Then he (= the king) overthrew Djaty, with the result that he raised sail in sailing southwards. To the south because of the extending the arm against Irtjet (?) so that Thebes might rejoice, without flight amongst the people therein”.128 The recent discovery at Siut of a decorated tomb with military scenes reveals that the use of Nubian mercenaries was in no way limited to the southern Theban kingdom; provincial warlords in the service of the northern Herakleopolitan rulers were also enlisting them in their armies.129 In fact, archaeological research at Siut is bringing to light fresh iconography about the struggle between both kingdoms during the troubled times that followed the end of the Old Kingdom. The tomb of Iti-ibi, for example, shows an Egyptian warrior raising a stick and striking another Egyptian soldier,130 whereas the so-called “Northern soldiers-tomb” displays four rows of men holding shields and battle-axes.131 Military scenes are well known from other provincial necropolises, like Mo‛alla and Qubbet el-Hawa.132 However, what makes Siut special is that the decoration of some tombs depict Nubian warriors and Egyptian soldiers in a provincial army. For example, one wall of the chapel in the tomb of Itiibi-iqer shows four registers of spearmen and archers headed by a troop commander, whilst on another wall warriors are depicted on two registers. Armed with bows and 126

Fischer 1961. Fischer 1961, 44–56. 128 Darnell 2003. 129 El-Khadragy 2006. 130 Kahl / El-Khadragy / Verhoeven 2007, 91. 131 El-Khadragy 2006, 150–155. 132 Vandier 1950, 126–129; Fischer 1961, 63; even a naval engagement in Jaroš-Deckert 1984, pl. 14. 127


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battle-axes, they are shown in a variety of attitudes attacking an enemy and Nubian archers are included among these soldiers. More Nubian archers are represented in a desert hunting scene on the chapel’s southern wall.133 One might add the two sets of wooden models representing a troop of Nubian archers and a troop of Egyptian spearmen found in the tomb of Mesethi. All these Siutian scenes and models appear in the tombs of provincial governors, each of them in command of a local troop of soldiers. The stelae from Gebelein show that Nubian mercenaries were settled among the Egyptian population and adopted some aspects of their culture. But it cannot be ruled out that some ambitious Nubian leaders could be tempted to play a more active role, given the troubled conditions in Egypt and, consequently, the opportunities open to military chiefs commanding substantial and perhaps strategic contingents of warriors. The tomb of Ini of Gebelein, dated to the Theban Eleventh Dynasty (around 2125 BCE), contained a large coffin with the titles of the owner: “Treasurer of the King of Lower Egypt, Sole Companion, governor of the province and overseer of priests of the temple of Sobek lord of Sumenu”.134 Quite surprisingly, among the funerary offerings placed in the tomb there is a complete cowhide, a funerary practice also attested in the almost contemporary Kerma burials in Nubia. One can assume that Nubian rites continued to be practised for a person who, having reached the higher echelons of provincial administration, had his body buried in a coffin, but his statue arranged according to the rites of his ancestors.135 Given the importance of war and military leadership during the First Intermediate Period, new values and attitudes began to develop in the realm of ideology to celebrate the capabilities of local warlords. Epithets and expressions display a nascent heroic ethos, where the military chief heads his fellow citizens into battle on “the day of trouble” and returns safely without any losses. Generally speaking, such ideological innovations were part of a broader new culture aiming at reinforcing and legitimising the authority of the local leaders, specially after the collapse of the central royal power, when the palace values and culture no longer fulfilled their traditional role as a source of prestige and promotion for provincial officials.136 In these circumstances, officials boast of their ability to command, their efficiency and their heroic behaviour. The inscription of Ankhtifi of Mo‛alla is the most celebrated example of the new ideology, and its protagonist repeatedly boasts of being “the champion who has no peer”. But many other inscriptions display the ethos of the heroic warrior: “I was a hero (lit. citizen) in the struggle, the vanguard of the army the day of danger, praised by his lord because of my judgement. I reached the western oasis, searched all its routes and brought back the fugitives I found there, the army being safe and without losses”,137 “I was the vanguard of men and the rearguard of men, for no one like me has (ever) existed. Nor will he exist, none like me having been born (before), neither shall he be born”,138 “I acted as overseer of the army for these

133

El-Khadragy 2008, 227–228. Brovarski 1976, 31–37, fig. 9–10. 135 Donadoni Roveri 1990, 26. 136 Moreno García 1997b, 1–87; Gnirs 1996b, 223–225. 137 Liepe / Priese 1991, 53. 138 Vandier 1950, 185. 134

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(provinces), as far as Elephantine (to the South) and Armant and Iusut (to the North). Never did misfortune befall me. I acted as overseer of the army in Mo‛alla and in every difficult place I would go out against”,139 “I was a warrior of the confederacy […] a possessor of counsel in the council chamber of the officials on the day of painful words, ready to overthrow the rebels on the day of [miserable] words”.140 In the more detailed examples, the hero stresses his courage and the merits of his victory, having faced an overwhelming enemy with only a small select troop, a topos which was to become quite popular in the royal ideology of the New Kingdom: “I prepared my troop of recruits and I set out for the fight with my city. It was I who acted as its rearguard in Shedytsha. No men were with me but my retinue; (but) people of the (foreign) lands of Medja and Wawat, Nubians and Asiatics, and Upper and Lower Egyptians were united against me; (yet) I came back, triumphant […] my city in its entirety being with me without loss […] I made my house as a door for every one who came, being in fear, on the day of strife”.141 As has been stated in previous pages, armies were raised on a local basis, with citizens (nDs, anx n nwt) as their main component. This gave birth to a feeling of camaraderie between fellow fighters:142 “I am a citizen excellent in warfare, a comrade of fighters”,143 “The Unique Companion, overseer of the army and overseer of interpreters Djemi says: I acted as overseer of the army in this city and I did what the great desired and the citizens praised. As for any overseer of the army against whom I went down, I have returned successfully in it because of the goodness of my directive and the excellence of my plans”,144 “master of determination the day of the battle, praised by his town god”,145 “I am the bravest of the brave, I am the swiftest of the swift”,146 or “I prepared the vanguard of the troops, and I supplied it with all the strong recruits at the time. I fought in the midst of the valiant recruits and I did not go forth empty”.147 Consequently, the protection granted to former soldiers, after returning to their “civil” everyday life during a period of struggle, is emphasized in some texts: “I levied its troops of young men in order that its products might be plentiful. Now, its former troops had become citizens settled in their houses, and there had been no battalion of theirs at the time of the fear of the house of the king. I saved my city on the day of plundering from the sore fear of the house of the king. I was assuredly its fortress on the day of its battle, its shelter in Shedytsha”.148 War and Battles in the Old Kingdom References to actual wars and armed conflicts are very scarce in Old Kingdom sources, in both the texts and the iconography, whilst military qualities played an 139

Vandier 1950, 242. Brovarski 1981, 18. 141 Anthes 1928, 36. 142 Gnirs 2006. 143 Lichtheim 1988, 34. 144 Goedicke 1960. 145 Fischer 1961, 48. 146 Lichtheim 1988, 35. 147 Silverman 2008. 148 Anthes 1928, 54–55. 140


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almost insignificant ideological role in order to enhance the position, charisma and decision of kings or dignitaries. Expeditions were recorded in the royal annals as well as in some graffiti, but the importance of warfare seems rather minor when compared to such prestigious activities as building temples or granting land to sanctuaries. In these circumstances, two scenes in private tombs, showing Egyptian troops attacking a fortified Asiatic walled town, are quite exceptional. In the case of Inti’s tomb at Deshasha, Egyptian archers and infantry soldiers holding battle-axes attack the city, other soldiers attempt to break through the enemy’s fortified wall using long pikes and another soldier adjusts a scaling ladder in preparation for storming the town. Captives, old and young, are roped together and led by Egyptian soldiers, whereas the remaining enemies inside the walls are panic-stricken. The surviving fragmentary inscriptions mention an army, the fact of “destroying” and a toponym, Nedia, probably referring to a town.149 The other scene comes from the tomb of Kaemhezet at Saqqara, and represents an assault on a walled city using a wheeled ladder.150 It is possible that both events were in fact one and the same and the scenes commemorate an Egyptian campaign in Asia towards the end of the Fifth Dynasty (about 2350 BCE). What is more, Kaemhezet’s titles reveal the nature of the Old Kingdom army, since he was not an officer but an architect and chief of works, connected with the province of Thinis. These scenes reveal that the absence of a permanent significant army does not imply a primitive military organisation: troops were raised in huge numbers, the logistics were effective enough to supply armies and expeditions and skilled specialists like Kaemhezet were mobilised when besieging walled towns. Another characteristic common to both Kaemhezet and Inti is their provincial background, confirming the role of local leaders in pharaonic armies. In any case, these examples show that expeditions to Asia were anything but exceptional and that they established the precedents of the well-documented case of Weni. The very fact that these expeditions became quite frequent (Weni himself led at least five armies against the nomads) point perhaps more to an informal policy of sending detachments periodically (as in the Amarna period) than to a true will of imperial, permanent, conquest, without excluding the possibility of difficulties when dealing with a mobile and elusive enemy. In fact, the scenes just quoted or Weni’s account depict the enemy as sedentary peoples, settled in fortified towns and involved in agricultural activities. The inscription of Weni of Abydos is the most detailed military account from the Old Kingdom. He describes in detail both the preparations for an expedition launched against the Asiatic “land-dwellers” and its outcome. As stated in the section on logistics, Weni reassembled a huge army whose contingents were supplied by various local authorities, including temples and foreign countries. Once the arrangements were complete and the troops brought together “I led them from the Island of the North, the Gate of Imhotep, the district of the Horus Lord-of-Truth (= king Sneferu), while I was in this position”;151 in the end the army returned in safety and the outcome of the campaign is described in rather eulogistic terms: the army “had ravaged the Sand-dwellers land […] flattened the Sand-dwellers land […] 149

Kanawati / McFarlane 1993, pl. 26–27. Quibell / Hayter 1927, frontispiece. 151 Sethe 1933², 102–103. 150

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sacked its strongholds […] cut down its figs, its vines […] thrown fire in all its [mansions …] had slain its troops by many ten-thousands […] had carried off many troops as captives.152 But this was only the beginning of a series of campaigns always led against the same enemy: “His Majesty sent me to lead this army five times, to attack the land of the Sand-dwellers as often as they rebelled, with these troops. I acted so that His Majesty praised me [for it beyond anything]. Told there were marauders among these foreigners at the Nose-of-Gazelle’s-Head, I crossed in ships with these troops. I made a landing in the back of the height of the mountain range, to the north of the land of the Sand-dwellers, while half of this army was on the road. I came and caught them all and slew every marauder among them”.153 The strategy followed recalls that of the Amarna period, when detachments were sent against rebels and more regular armies against coalitions of Asiatic princes; both land and amphibious forces were also employed in later conflicts, as against the Hyksos or the Hittites. Even the characteristics of the enemy population are quite similar and consist mainly of a world of cities, strongholds and sedentary peoples involved in agriculture and cattle breading. Thus, Weni’s account reveals again that a non-permanent army did not imply the absence of specialists or even of elaborate strategies: besieging operations, amphibious attacks and encircling manoeuvres suggest an experienced military mind, an impression reinforced by the use of specialised corps (archers, infantry armed with battle-axes, spearmen, etc.) as well as a navy. Anyway, the highly rhetorical content and unilateral views of such inscriptions must not be forgotten, as they represent a typical product of palace culture and official ideology. As in the case of the relations with Nubian peoples, reality was doubtless more complex. Trade relations with the Levant (especially with Byblos) are well documented, whereas contacts with Asiatic populations were not necessarily warlike. For instance, Iny, the Sixth Dynasty chief of expeditions, states that “[I was sent to? …] foreign country four times when I was a seal bearer of the god under the Majesty of my lord Pepy […] lapis lazuli and lead/tin […] The Majesty of my lord Neferkare sent me […] I brought back one kbnt-ship and […] jmw-ships […] with silver, Asiatic men and Asiatic women […]”.154 War, trade and diplomacy (as the Egyptian finds at Ebla show) went hand in hand when dealing with foreign countries. As for the Nubian front, the situation was quite similar, as war and collaboration went hand in hand. Military expeditions continued to be sent into Nubia, with the governors of Elephantine heading the Egyptian armies, like Pepynakht-Heqaib: “The Majesty of my lord sent me to devastate the lands of Wawat and Irtjet. I did what pleases my lord and killed a great number there, (including) the ruler’s children and the commanders of the (Nubian) troops. I brought a great number of them to the (royal) Residence as prisoners, I being at the head of the expedition, a large and strong force, as one who is strong of heart, and my lord was delighted with me as (he was) with every mission on which he sent me. The Majesty of my lord sent me to subdue those foreign lands, and I did it in such a way that my lord was immensely pleased with me. I brought to the (royal) Residence the two rulers of these foreign lands along with gifts of oxen and goats chosen for the benefit of the (royal) Resi152

Sethe 1933², 103–104. Sethe 1933², 104–105. 154 Marcolin 2006. 153


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dence, as well as the children of (these) rulers and the two commanders of the (Nubian) forces which were with them”.155 But the military encounters were not always favourable to the Egyptian forces, as Pepynakht-Heqaib states: “The Majesty of my lord sent me to the land of the Asiatics to bring back (the body) of the Sole Companion, controller of Nekhen, Kaaper’s son the overseer of foreigners Ankhti. He had been building a boat there to travel to the land of Punt when the Asiatics and Sand-dwellers killed him and the troops of the expedition which accompanied him […] Using the section of the expedition which was with me, I drove the murderers among them away”.156 Unlike the Old Kingdom, political unrest, civil war and a lack of central authority marked the period that followed. These conditions favoured the emergence of local warlords eager to legitimize their power by developing new ideological motifs and values. War and fighting were celebrated as occasions in which the qualities of the provincial rulers could be better appreciated: protection of the fellow citizens, successful military command and return to the homeland without losses. Autobiographies became more comprehensive and occasionally they provide some information about the battles fought between Thebes and Herakleopolis as well as about the strategies followed. The inscription of Ankhtifi of Mo‛alla is the most detailed, as it reveals the new realities of war after the collapse of the unified monarchy of the Old Kingdom. Relying on his own local means, Ankhtifi fought in a provincial landscape dotted with fortresses and walled cities, recalling the conditions prevalent a thousand years before, when the birth of Pharaonic Egypt was marked out by the conquest of rival fortified cities: “The overseer of the army of Armant came saying: ‘Behold, oh brave one! Sail down (to) the fortresses [of Armant? …]’. So I sailed down to the districts west of Armant and I found that Thebes and Coptos in their entirety had […] the fortresses of Armant in (the area of) The-hill-of-Sekhemsen […] I sailed upstream in order to demolish their fortresses with the brave troops of Mo‛alla”.157 Moreover, some kind of heroic ethos seems to have developed between enemies, when rival leaders were summoned into combat and their fighting qualities recognised by their opponents: “The overseer of the army of Armant came saying: ‘Behold, oh brave one! Sail down (to) the fortresses [of Armant? …]’”,158 “‘approach me, Khety, you who raised a storm over the province, mighty ruler! I made my boundary at Wadi Hesy’”.159 As in the case of the topos of “one against many” quoted in the preceding section, the challenge addressed to the enemy is emblematic of the rules of war embedded in ancient Near Eastern traditions.160 And when the rival who had made the challenge subsequently refused to fight, preferring to protect himself behind the walls of his city, the blame fell on him: “Having sailed down with my loyal and brave recruits, I reached the west bank of the Theban province, the vanguard of my fleet being at The Hill of Sekhemsen and its rearguard at the Domain of Tjemi. Then

155

Sethe 1933², 133–134. Sethe 1933², 134–135. 157 Vandier 1950, 198–199. 158 Vandier 1950, 198. 159 Lichtheim 1988, 41. 160 Liverani 1990, 115–171. 156

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my loyal conscripts tried to seek for battle at the west of the Theban nome but nobody ventured to come out for fear of them. So, I sailed to the eastern bank of the Theban province, the rearguard of my fleet being at The Tomb of Imbi and its vanguard at the Meadow of Sega. We besieged its (= Sega) walls after (the city of) Sega had closed its frontal gate from fear. Then, these brave and loyal conscripts, these (truly) loyal conscripts, became scouts crossing the western and eastern regions of the Theban province and seeking for battle but nobody ventured to come out for fear of them. I am a champion who has no peer”,161 “I made the province of Edfu fight in front of the country, something that have never arrived since the time of Ra, thanks to the strength of my loyal and brave conscripts”.162 In the end, Ankhtifi succeeded in restoring royal authority in the three southernmost provinces of Egypt, but his deeds proved to be ephemeral, as he could not avoid the secession of Thebes and the consolidation of a southern kingdom that extended its control from Elephantine in the south to Abydos, in Middle Egypt. In fact, Middle Egypt became the scenario of fierce combats and changing fortunes between the contenders. Thinis changed hands until it remained firmly under Theban control and several private inscriptions record these military events: “[Theban king Antef II] sent after I had battled with the House of Khety [i.e., the Herakleopolitan kingdom] in the west of Thinis, and caused his commission to come: the great ruler made me fare north to procure food, consisting of Upper Egyptian barley, for this whole land, from Elephantine to the Aphroditopolite nome, because of my knowing matters and speaking well—I am a weighty one among the officials and calm at the moment of blows—with this message: ‘Approach me, Khety, you who raised a storm over the province, mighty ruler! I made my boundary at Wadi Hesy’”;163 “I went down against Abydos which was under the rebel and I caused him to retreat to his home(land) from the midst of the city, whereas nobody else (had) had the power to go forth against him”,164 “year 14: erect this stele the year Thinis rebelled”.165 Further north, the ruling family of Siut was one of the main supporters of the Herakleopolitan kingdom. Not surprisingly, war ravaged the city itself, which fell under Theban control for a while until it was conquered again, thanks to a successful counteroffensive launched by the northern pharaoh, as the biography of governor Khety II states: “The whole land was with him, the governors of Upper Egypt and the magnates of Herakleopolis, and the district of the Queen of the land came to drive away the robber. The land trembled, Upper Egypt was sinking, they were afraid and their behaviour was full of fear, the towns equipped themselves (with weapons) […] The land was burnt by its (= Herakleopolis) flame […] The vanguard of the fleet extended to Shashotep and its rearguard to Uhwi, heaven was blowing the north wind, so that papyrus fell on the water. Herakleopolis was landing. ‘Welcome’, the town cried jubilantly to its ruler, the son of a ruler. Women were mingled with men, grown up and children. The ruler’s son (= Khety II) reached his town, and entered his father’s domain. He brought the refugees back into their 161

Vandier 1950, 202–203. Vandier 1950, 252. 163 Lichtheim 1988, 40–41. 164 Goedicke 1960. 165 Clère / Vandier 1948, 19. 162


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houses […] Through your counsels alone you put Siut in order: everyone spent the night in his (proper) place, there was no fighting, no shooting of arrows, the child was not beaten in the presence of his mother or the citizen in the presence of his wife, there was no plundering of goods in the street and there was no act of violence against his house, because your city-god guided you, your father who loves you”.166 The effects of war explain the popularity of military motifs in the decoration of the tombs of the local governors, including the representation of Nubian warriors. Bibliography Allen, J. P., 2008: The historical inscription of Khnumhotep at Dahshur: Preliminary report. Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 352, 29–39. Altenmüller, H. / Moussa, A. M., 1991: Die Inschrift Amenemhets II. aus dem PtahTempel von Memphis. Ein Vorbericht. Studien zur altägyptischen Kultur 18, 1– 48. Anthes, R., 1928: Die Felseninschriften von Hatnub. Leipzig. Arnold, D., 1976: Gräber des Alten und Mittleren Reiches in El-Tarif. Mainz am Rhein. Arnold, F., 1990: The South Cemeteries of Lisht. The Control Notes and Team Marks. New York. Bárta, M., 2001: Abusir V. The Cemeteries at Abusir South I. Prague. Baud, M. / Dobrev, V., 1995: De nouvelles annales de l’Ancien Empire égyptien: Une ‘Pierre de Palerme’ pour la VIe dynastie. Bulletin de l’Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale 95, 23–92. Baud, M. / Dobrev, V., 1997: Le verso des annales de la VIe dynastie: Pierre de Saqara-Sud. Bulletin de l’Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale 97, 35–42. Berlev, O. D., 1971: Les prétendus “citadins” au Moyen Empire. Revue d’Égyptologie 23, 23–48. Bietak, M., 2003: Two ancient Near Eastern temples with bent axis in the Eastern Nile Delta. Ägypten und Levant 13, 13–38. Brovarski, E., 1976: Two monuments of the First Intermediate Period from the Theban nome. In J. H. Johnson / E. F. Wente (eds.): Studies in Honor of George R. Hughes. Chicago. Pp. 31–41. — 1981: Ahanakht of Bersheh and the Hare Nome in the First Intermediate Period. In W. K. Simpson / W. M. Davis (eds.): Studies in Ancient Egypt, the Aegean and the Sudan. Essays in Honor of Dows Dunham on the Occasion of His 90th Birthday. Boston. Pp. 14–30. Brunner, H., 1937: Die Texte aus den Gräbern der Herakleopolitenzeit von Siut. Leipzig. Bunbury, J. M., 2008: There’s nothing boring about a borehole. Nekhen News 20, 22–23. Cagle, A. J., 2003: The Spatial Structure of Kom el-Hisn: An Old Kingdom Town in the Western Nile Delta, Egypt. Oxford. Chevereau, P.-M., 1987: Contribution à la prosopographie des cadres militaires de l’Ancien Empire et de la Première Période Intermédiaire. Revue d’Égyptologie 166

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l’Ancien Empire (2650–2150 avant J.-C.). Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient 44, 411–450. — 2007: The state and the organization of the rural landscape in 3rd millennium BC pharaonic Egypt. In M. Bollig / O. Bubenzer / R. Vogelsang / H.-P. Wotzka (eds): Aridity, Change and Conflict in Africa. Cologne. Pp. 313–330. Mumford, G., 2005: Beyond Egypt’s frontiers: a late Old Kingdom fort in south Sinai. Minerva 16/3, 24–26. — 2006: Tell Ras Budran (Site 345): Defining Egypt’s eastern frontier and mining operations in South Sinai during the Late Old Kingdom (Early EB IV/MB I). Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 342, 13–67. Osing, J., 1973: Ächtungstexte aus dem Alten Reich. Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts, Abteilung Kairo 29, 97–133. — 1976: Ächtungstexte aus dem Alten Reich (II). Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts, Abteilung Kairo 32, 133–185. Pantalacci, L., 1998: La documentation epistolaire du palais des gouverneurs à Balat-‛Ayn Asil. Bulletin de l’Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale 98, 303– 315. — 2005: Travaux de l’Institut français d’archéologie orientale en 2004–2005. Bulletin de l’Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale 105, 405–543. Parkinson, R. B., 1997: The Tale of Sinuhe and Other Ancient Egyptian Poems 1940–1640 BC. Oxford. Partridge, R. B., 2002: Fighting Pharaohs. Weapons and Warfare in Ancient Egypt. Manchester. Pätznick, J.-P., 2005: Die Siegelabrollungen und Rollsiegel der Stadt Elephantine im 3. Jahrtausend v. Chr. Oxford. Petrie, W. M. F., 1888: Tanis, Part II. Nebesheh and Defenneh. London. — 1900: The Royal Tombs of the Earliest Dynasties. Part I. London. — 1901: The Royal Tombs of the Earliest Dynasties. Part II. London. Posener-Krieger, P., 2004: I Papiri di Gebelein —Scavi G. Farina 1935—. Turin. Quibell, J. E., 1900: Hierakonpolis. Part I. London. Quibell, J. E. / Hayter, A. G. K., 1927: Excavations at Saqqara: Teti Pyramid, North Side. Cairo. Quibell, J. E. / Green, F. W., 1902: Hierakonpolis. Part II. London. Regulski, I., 2004: Second Dynasty ink inscriptions from Saqqara paralleled in the Abydos material from the Royal Museums of Art and History (RMAH) in Brussels. In S. Hendrickx / R. F. Friedman / K. M. Ciałowicz / M. Chłodnicki (eds): Egypt at its Origins. Studies in Memory of Barbara Adams. Leuven. Pp. 949– 970. Sadek A. I., 1980: The Amethyst Mining Inscriptions. Warminster. Scandone-Matthiae, G., 2003: Les rapports entre Ebla et l’Égypte à l’Ancien et au Moyen Empire. In Z. Hawass (ed.): Egyptology at the Dawn of the Twenty-First Century. Vol. 2: History, Religion. Cairo. Pp. 487–493. Seidlmayer, S. J., 1996: Town and state in the early Old Kingdom: A view from Elephantine. In J. Spencer (ed.): Aspects of Early Egypt. London. Pp. 108–127. Sethe, K., 1932: Urkunden des ägyptischen Altertums, I. Urkunden des Alten Reiches. Leipzig. Silverman, D. P., 2008: A reference to warfare at Dendereh, prior to the unification


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of Egypt in the Eleventh Dynasty. In S. E. Thompson / P. der Manuelian (eds): Egypt and Beyond. Essays Presented to Leonard H. Lesko. Providence. Pp. 319– 331. Simpson, W. K., 1965: Papyrus Reisner II. Accounts of the Dockyard Workshop at This in the Reign of Sesostris I. Boston. — 1986: Papyrus Reisner IV. Personnel Accounts of the Early Twelfth Dynasty. Boston. Smolarikova, K., 2008: Saite Forts in Egypt: Political-Military History of the Saite Dynasty. Prague. Spalinger, A., 2005: War in Ancient Egypt. Oxford. Stefanović, D., 2007: “©Amw in the Middle Kingdom”, Lingua Aegyptia 15, 217– 229. Van den Brink, E. C. / Th. E. Levy (eds), 2002: Egypt and the Levant. Interrelations from the 4th through the Early 3rd Millennium BCE. Leicester. Vandier, J. 1950: Mo‛alla. La tombe d’Ankhtifi et la tombe de Sébekhotep. Cairo. Von Pilgrim, C. 1996: Elephantine XVIII. Untersuchungen in der Stadt des Mittleren Reiches und der Zweiten Zwischenzeit. Mainz am Rhein.

Canaan under Siege The History and Archaeology of Egypt’s War in Canaan during the Early Eighteenth Dynasty

Aaron A. Burke

Despite the considerable attention that has been devoted to the study of the end of the Middle Bronze Age, to Late Bronze Age Canaan, and to the development of the New Kingdom Egyptian Empire in the Levant, a nuanced historical-archaeological reconstruction of the opening days of Egyptian imperialism remains lacking. In part, this deficiency is owed to the prerequisites of familiarity with, on the one hand, the history, material culture, and settlement patterns of the Levant during both the Middle and Late Bronze Ages and, on the other, with the history of Egypt’s New Kingdom campaigns. The dearth of syntheses is also owed to the adherence to entrenched and outdated models for Canaan’s political organization, which are central to understanding the changes brought about during this transition period, and the limited attention devoted to, until recently, the archaeological evidence for Egypt’s intervention in and policies toward Canaan. The continued employment of dated constructs limits our ability to nuance the development of Egypt’s military policy toward Canaan over the course of the Late Bronze Age, particularly within the LB IA (ca. 1530–1460 BC). As is argued in this article, these constructs obscure the identification of the material and ideological effects of Egypt’s dominance and the recognition of Egypt’s very gradual subjugation and effective balkanization of Middle Bronze Age territorial kingdoms in the southern Levant which began during the LB IA. What follows, therefore, is the result of an attempt to formulate a nuanced historical-archaeological reconstruction of Egypt’s early conquests in Canaan by relying not only upon archaeological data from sites and settlement patterns during the transition between the Middle and Late Bronze Ages (MB III–LB IA), but also to use evidence relating to the nature of Bronze Age warfare and a new perspective on the evolution of polities in the Levant during this period. The Close of the Middle Bronze Age It is widely agreed that during the MB III (ca. 1600–1530 BC) the southern Levant continued the settlement trend begun during the MB II and that it was characterized by a process known as settlement infilling, which resulted in the presence of a greater number of smaller settlements scattered across the landscape between larger

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fortified centers that existed during the MB II.1 The presence of a large number of cemeteries dated to the MB II–III that presumably belonged to the inhabitants of nearby, although often unidentified settlements,2 suggests that many of these settlements were unfortified and short-lived, perhaps lasting as little as a few decades during the MB II–III. Although it is not an easy process to distinguish settlements founded in the late MB II from those founded during the MB III, the prevailing political and socioeconomic conditions, which I identify as Pax Amoritica, suggest the continuation of the MB II settlement trend and associated political organization.3 Political Organization and Strategic Defenses The settlement pattern at the close of the Middle Bronze Age was intrinsically related to the nature of the political organization of the southern Levant. Canaan’s political organization at the close of the Middle Bronze Age permits a clearer articulation of Egypt’s approach to the conquest of Canaan at the start of the New Kingdom and its subsequent approach to the administration of the region. The prevailing interpretation of Canaan’s political organization during the MB II–III, which has been characterized as that of dozens of independent city-states,4 has relied nearly entirely on the retrojection of the political organization characteristic of Late Bronze Age Canaan as identified from the Amarna letters.5 As I have argued, however, the defensive strategy of the late Middle Bronze Age was inherently dictated by the largest urban, fortified settlements (i.e., political capitals), which can be identified as the dominant polities (preferably referred to as kingdoms) during the second half of the Middle Bronze Age. This can be inferred from the spatial relationship between first-tier centers and settlements around them, namely the strategic location of certain settlement types (discussed below), as well as the considerable labor required in the construction of monumental fortifications at small sites. Among the most conspicuous of these political centers were Hazor and Ashkelon,6 but probably others included small centers in the highlands, such as Shechem and Jerusalem.7 Ashkelon’s landscape is an excellent case study of the relationship between secondary sites and their political centers. Indeed, it was the settlement pattern and site types of the kingdom of Ashkelon during the MB II–III, which con1

In this article the following terms are used to designate phases of the Middle Bronze Age, replacing the MB IIA–IIC terminology: MB I (ca. 1900–1700 BC), MB II (ca. 1700–1600), and MB III (ca. 1600–1530 BC). Dates for the reigns of Egyptian pharaohs and their campaigns are based on Kitchen 2000. The LB IA (ca. 1530–1460). 2 I do not accept the supposition that cemeteries lacking association with conspicuous settlements must have belonged to pastoral nomads (contra Gonen 1981, for the Late Bronze Age). The suggestion is problematic given the dense settlement pattern of the urban Middle Bronze Age, which would have required that such cemeteries fell within the territory of one or another polity, and in light of the realization that pastoral nomads were most likely the social relations (i.e., kith and kin) of the inhabitants of MB urban settlements. Indeed, to the extent that any burials would be identified as those of pastoral nomads they are indistinguishable from those of their urban counterparts. 3 Burke 2008, 100–101. 4 Dever 1987. 5 For discussion, see Burke 2008, 119–121; also Sugerman 2009. 6 Burke 2008, 117, 125–135. 7 Burke 2008, 117–119.

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stituted a well defined defensive strategy,8 that became one of the foci of Egypt’s early efforts to subdue the region as argued below. Although in no single territory are all of these settlement types in evidence, owing to the exigencies of archaeological exploration, the defensive strategy employed appears to have focused on a settlement network comprised of sites of varying sizes and functions. Settlements ranged from large fortified centers like Hazor and Ashkelon (> 50 ha) to smaller fortified settlements, unfortified villages including those of less than 0.2 ha in size, fortresses, watchtowers, and rural agricultural estates or farmsteads.9 Along major road networks, for example, a series of towers (magdalūma), were erected to provide advanced warning of approaching threats and to protect caravans that plied the overland road and its tributaries between Aleppo and Avaris.10 These towers are today identified by means of toponyms deriving from the Arabic term májdal, and no fewer than sixty such sites can be identified in the Levant that are predominantly of late Middle and Late Bronze Age date (ca. 1700–1200 BC). In addition to the evidence for settlement hierarchy and a variety of settlement types, other lines of evidence support the identification of a period of political organization in Canaan that was dominated by large territorial kingdoms like Hazor and Ashkelon. Around Ashkelon, the spatial relationship of second-tier fortified centers reveals their location at one-day’s travel by foot throughout the coastal plain (Figure 1). Not only is this relationship meaningful because it is reflective of the potential sphere of Ashkelon’s immediate political control, but the location of its secondary and tertiary fortified settlements, which fall along an average distance of 30 km (between 25 and 33 km) from Ashkelon, reveals the employment of a consistent defensive strategy, which is characterized by the construction of rectilinear defensive layouts known during the MB II throughout the Levant.11 The considerable effort required to defend these smaller sites ranging from 1.5 to 22 ha in size also supports the recognition of a political hierarchy that was able to muster the resources needed to construct defenses at even the smallest of these sites, such as Timnah and Tel Sera‘. Within this context, the Middle Bronze Age palaces identified at ‘Ajjul and Lachish are recognized to be most likely the residences of provincial governors (e.g., OB šapitum). Thus, these second-tier centers, which were obviously oriented with a focus outward from Ashkelon, served Ashkelon’s effort to administer its hinterland and the routes leading from its territory through the coastal plain and into the highlands to the east.

8

Burke 2008, 81. Burke 2008, 122–125. 10 Burke 2007. 11 Burke 2008, 81. 9

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Fig 1. The kingdom of Ashkelon at the end of the Middle Bronze Age

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The precise character of the defenses of Middle Bronze Age settlements are well understood.12 At the close of the Middle Bronze Age, the average fortified settlement, such as those in the kingdom of Ashkelon, possessed substantial earthen ramparts, crowned by thick and solid mudbrick walls, studded with towers, and surrounded by a dry ditch or fosse. They were constructed with amazing regularity from their brick sizes to gate plans. Indeed, they were sufficiently well constructed to continue to function into the LB IA, which often complicates distinguishing precisely when the fortifications were no longer in service, despite our ability to more accurately date their construction. This is in part the result of the fact that the continued use, modification, and rebuilding of fortification systems was not a uniform process across each site, but was undertaken as needed, and would most often have involved either the reapplication of mud plaster, or the reconstruction or modification of the uppermost portions of walls, which were also the first portions to be destroyed. None of these efforts to maintain the fortifications provide any real potential for accurate dating as they are the most ephemeral elements of fortification systems whatever the period, and essentially escape archaeological detection. The vast majority of Canaan’s population, probably as much as 70% as in the kingdom of Ashkelon,13 inhabited fortified towns during the Middle Bronze Age. The remainder inhabited farming villages and rural agricultural estates within 15 km from these centers, and were thus at the most a few hours away from the safety of a fortified town (or conversely, the assistance of these towns), when circumstances dictated. Nevertheless, during the MB III (ca. 1600–1530 BC), there is evidence to suggest that the prevailing Pax Amoritica meant that newly founded settlements, such at Tel Michal, were inadequately prepared for sustaining a siege, having abandoned the traditional approach to wall construction.14 Similarly, while the employment of so-called casemate fortification walls afforded a greater flexibility in the use of space within ever-growing urban centers (i.e., as storage rooms), this wall type left sites, like Shechem in the highlands, with less than the ideal defenses since they were not “battle ready”.15 Indeed, these walls are hardly casemates at all, since there is no evidence to indicate that they were ever intended to be filled in as was, for example, the fortification wall around the Hittite capital of Hattuša. As a defensive strategy, therefore, it appears to have contributed to compromising the defensibility of many settlements, as there is little doubt that these walls were less effective than well-built and well-maintained, solid fortification walls of equal breadth. With the political and military context of the late Middle Bronze Age defined, it is possible to address the effects of Egypt’s expansion into Canaan during the LB IA. Egypt’s Early Empire It is generally agreed that it was Egypt’s early Eighteenth Dynasty that was ultimately responsible for the demise of Canaan’s defenses at the close of the Middle Bronze Age. Still, a variety of opinions have been voiced concerning the duration 12

Burke 2008, 47–84. Burke 2008, 134. 14 Burke 2008, 82–83. 15 Burke 2008, 61–63. 13

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and nature of Egyptian conquests in Canaan during the LB IA (ca. 1530 to 1460 BC), which spanned from the expulsion of the Hyksos16 by Ahmose through the Battle of Megiddo during the reign of Thutmose III.17 Having ruled out Hurrian invasions as a culprit,18 as previously held by a number of scholars,19 and having eliminated notions that Egyptians were incapable of the effort required or were inept in siege warfare,20 the Egyptian army remains the only viable culprit for the destructions attested across Canaan and especially, as will be discussed in detail here, in the southern coastal plain.21 Although it has also been suggested that internecine feuding between Canaanite city-states in the wake of the expulsion of the Hyksos from Egypt, as attested during the Amarna period, may have been responsible for these destructions, the suggestion requires accepting that Thutmose III’s rhetorical comments concerning chaos in Canaan at the start of his campaigns portray Canaanite infighting rather than simply a state of open rebellion by Canaanites against Egypt. Similarly incongruous is Redford’s suggestion that the site-wide destruction of MB III settlements (i.e., representing more than the destruction of the fortifications of these settlements) represented a “methodical demolition of fortifications” by the Egyptians after their conquests and were not the result of the destruction of the sites themselves.22 While it is clear that not all of the Late Bronze Age destructions evidenced in the archaeological record can be correlated with specific Egyptian references, whether textual or iconographic sources of the late Eighteenth and Nineteenth Dynasties, the absence of historical or archaeological evidence to permit the association of these destructions with either Canaanite or Hurrian culprits is significant. Thus, with no reasonable option left but to assign Egyptian agency to these destructions, attention can be focused on the unfolding nature of Egypt’s early imperial policies during the early Eighteenth Dynasty. Ellen Morris has provided the most up-to-date and thorough synthesis addressing in particular Egyptian historical sources and archaeological data of relevance for reconstructing the developmental phases of Egyptian domination from the Eighteenth to the Twentieth Dynasties.23 Of interest to the LB IA is her discussion of the 16

The term Hyksos has been widely applied in earlier scholarship to include not only the rulers of the Fifteenth Dynasty in Egypt (once thought to be of Hurrian extraction, but now recognized to be of Asiatic or, more precisely, of Amorite origin) but also the Amorite inhabitants of Canaan during the MB III. Translated as “foreign rulers” this Egyptian ascription should not be applied to groups beyond the Asiatic pharaohs and their followers who resided in the eastern Delta during the Second Intermediate Period. As was clearly the intent in previous scholarship, reference to the inhabitants of the southern Levant as Hyksos suggested an overt political and military relationship between the Fifteenth Dynasty rulers at Avaris and the Amorite rulers in Canaan. Nevertheless, to date neither historical nor archaeological data suggest more than a shared Amorite koiné in both regions, despite the distinct possibility that relationships between the Hyksos in Egypt and Amorite polities in Canaan may have been more formally arranged. 17 For a summary, see Morris 2005, 35, nn. 40–45; also Weinstein 1981, 1–2. 18 Dever 1998; Weinstein 1991. 19 Hoffmeier 1990, 1991; Na’aman 1994; Redford 1992, 137–140. 20 Burke 2009; Morris 2005, 36. 21 See also Burke 2008, 101, for summary; Weinstein 1981, 2–5. 22 Redford 2003, 50f. 23 Morris 2005.

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early and middle Eighteenth Dynasty up through the reign of Thutmose III.24 Particularly striking, of course, is the limited imprint left by Egyptian campaigns over the course of the six-decades between Ahmose’s and Thutmose’s campaigns, which will be discussed further below. Seemingly absent to date is evidence for Egyptian garrisons and fortresses that would typify Egyptian imperial presence from the LB IB onward. Indeed, Morris has characterized this “nascent empire” as “in a period of crisis prior to the campaign of Thutmose III”,25 although to do so is to embrace the mistaken assumption that the later character of the Egyptian empire was the shape intended but never realized by early Eighteenth Dynasty pharaohs. Therefore, references to the campaigns of Ahmose through Thutmose III and archaeological evidence from the LB IA serve as the starting point for consideration of the intersections of these historical events and the archaeological record. Some fundamental observations must be articulated in order to properly constrain our efforts to characterize Egyptian grand strategy and the specific tactics that were employed during the early Eighteenth Dynasty. As is evident from almost any historical survey of these early campaigns, it is impossible to speak of a tradition of annual campaigning by New Kingdom pharaohs until the first campaign of Thutmose III (ca. 1460 BC), which for the first time targeted a coalition of kings gathered at Megiddo (see discussion below). Similarly, there is no evidence that there existed from the outset of the Eighteenth Dynasty a clear Egyptian plan to systematically and mechanically subjugate Canaan via the overland route from the northern end of the Ways of Horus in the wake of Egypt’s initial victories at Avaris and Sharuhen (Tell el-‘Ajjul) by Ahmose, which is all too often assumed and would seem superficially to be most logical. This notion is a clear attempt to retroject the policy and conduct of the later New Kingdom pharaohs to the days of Ahmose. To the extent that it may be discerned, Egypt’s approach appears to have most often exploited inland marches from the coast following a markedly dendritic penetration along drainage systems (where established routes already existed), avoiding as much as possible the long slog that would have been necessary along the “coastal” highway, which was intensively overshadowed by well-fortified sites. Unexpected as Egyptian incursions from the coast seem to have been, these assaults met with nearly no opposition, and permitted, therefore, inland campaigns of considerable distance as undertaken by Amenhotep I and Thutmose I. Such efforts would have been effectively impossible along the land route during the early Eighteenth Dynasty owing to Egypt’s limited control of most of this region prior to Thutmose III, as revealed by the opposition that eventually coalesced and was mustered against the same pharaoh at Megiddo following the death of Hatshepsut. Since it is likely, however, that most of the destructions assigned to the LB IA in Canaan were the result of a number of different campaigns, which may not have been conducted by the pharaoh himself, as suggested by Morris,26 and thus some military efforts are historically unattested, an attempt can be made to address these early campaigns using the relevant archaeological data from Canaan. In what follows the archaeological evidence has been examined based on the 24

Morris 2005, 27–67, 115–164, 177–180. Morris 2005, 51, n. 85. 26 Morris 2005, 36. 25

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generally accepted dates assigned to the destruction of sites by their excavators. Attention is paid to clusters of settlements within regions that, I argue, are most likely to have been subject to attack during the same campaign based on the recognition of a discernible pattern of “strategic defenses” that were in place at the end of the Middle Bronze Age27 and which were necessarily faced by Egypt during this period.28 Ahmose: Sharuhen and Its Hinterland Following the siege of Avaris, Egypt’s coastally focused program of assaults began at Sharuhen, widely identified with Tell el-‘Ajjul following predominantly Kempinski’s criteria.29 Within the framework defined for the Middle Bronze Age, this campaign began what might be considered the gradual whittling away of the holdings of the kingdom of Ashkelon at the close of the MB III. Within the context of this Middle Bronze Age polity, Sharuhen served as its southern vanguard on the overland route leading to Egypt. The archaeology of the destruction of ‘Ajjul City II is well known, despite its early excavation by W. M. F. Petrie who was bound by the limits of his nascent methodology. Of particular interest are the destroyed remains of City II and Palace 2,30 which were at the time defended by a rampart (probably crowned by a wall since eradicated)31 and a fosse, which was 18 m wide, 6 m deep, and encircled the site on the north, east, and south sides.32 The siege of Sharuhen is said according to Egyptian historical records to have lasted three years, and it might be expected that some archaeological evidence remains of the considerable effort that such a lengthy siege required, particularly of the defenders. It is interesting therefore to consider the possibility that the so-called Upper and Lower Tunnels, which could never have functioned as a water system33 and was not employed for burials—as it ran directly underneath the in-use Middle Bronze Age (so-called “Hyksos”) cemetery—were undertaken to provide a secret means of access to and from the site by Sharuhen’s besieged as they sought to bring in supplies and send and receive messengers.34 Thus archaeological evidence at Tell el-‘Ajjul may substantiate a lengthy siege, and as suggested below provides a revealing glimpse into Egyptian siege tactics, namely the effectiveness of the employment of the protracted siege by the early Eighteenth Dynasty Egyptian army. The siege against Sharuhen is not likely to have been an isolated military operation and, in fact, the archaeological evidence inland from Sharuhen is sufficiently consistent in character to suggest a shared fate by its hinterland communities. A cluster of sites east of Sharuhen including Jemmeh,35 Haror,36 Sera‘,37 and Tell 27

Burke 2008, 124. See Keegan 1993, 142 for a discussion of the concept of strategic defenses. 29 Kempinski 1974. 30 Tufnell / Kempinski 1993, 53. 31 On the absence of evidence of mudbrick walls, see Burke 2008, 61. 32 Burke 2008, 231. 33 Contra Tufnell / Kempinski 1993, 50. 34 Burke 2008, 232f.; 2009, 64. 35 Van Beek 1993, 668. 36 Oren 1993a, 582. 37 Oren 1993b, 1330. 28

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Far‘ah South38 appear, strangely enough, to have escaped the destruction meted out by Egyptian troops during Ahmose’s multi-year siege of Sharuhen, or any subsequent early Eighteenth Dynasty pharaoh. Surprisingly these sites offer no evidence of destruction layers dated to the LB IA (thus through the reign of Thutmose III, despite reference in his list to Yurza; see no. 60). It is necessary, therefore, to consider if an absence of evidence for destruction is correctly interpreted as a peaceful period among these sites, particularly with the nearly continual presence of Egyptian troops at Gaza and Sharuhen during the LB IA. While it is difficult to be sure what the nature of Egypt’s actions against these settlements may have been, such settlements may have been blockaded by or may have capitulated to Egyptian troops, or their populations fled northward in the face of the Egypt’s determined effort against Sharuhen until it was considered safe to return. Such scenarios, all plausible, are impossible to tease out of the archaeological evidence in the absence of historical sources. Nevertheless, it is evident that, for whatever reasons, the siege of these settlements appears to have been unnecessary, located as they were to the rear of Sharuhen (Tell el-‘Ajjul) up the Nahals Besor and Gerar, and the absence of destruction levels dated to this period at these sites is conspicuous. Unclear is the relationship of Malhata’s destruction located further inland, which has been dated by Kochavi to the mid-sixteenth century BC.39 Before Thutmose III: The Southern Coastal Plain Following the limited evidence for campaigning beyond Avaris and Sharuhen during Ahmose’s reign, very limited historical evidence is available for campaigns by Ahmose’s successors. Still, several lines of evidence suggest that the southern coastal plain north of the Wadi Gaza (Nahal Besor), the territory largely under the sway of the Middle Bronze Age kingdom of Ashkelon, had been pacified before the arrival of Thutmose III.40 The strongest evidence for this is the conspicuous absence of the names of Canaanite towns on Thutmose III’s list located between Sharuhen, which was already held by an Egyptian garrison, and Jaffa (Yapu, no. 62). Settlements mentioned in the list within this region include only Yurza (no. 60) and Muhazzu (no. 61).41 Among the sites (at least those identified with historical toponyms) that are conspicuously absent in this list and that possess archaeological evidence of destruction levels dated to the LB IA are Ashkelon(?), Tell Nagila, Lachish, Timnah, Gezer, and Beth-Shemesh.42

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Yisraeli 1993. Kochavi 1967; 1992, 487. 40 Weinstein 1981. 41 The fact that both Tell Jemmeh and Tel Haror lack evidence for destruction layers dated to this period is interesting with respect to the question of identifying either of these sites with Yurza of this inscription, which was at least claimed to be conquered by Thutmose III, if not destroyed. The reference to Yurza in this list may be instructive, therefore, concerning the nature of what can be concluded from the sites listed. 42 Although Weinstein listed Hesi among these destructions (Weinstein 1981, 2), its stratigraphy has not permitted a clear identification of an MB III/LB IA destruction level (Fargo 1993). 39

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Gaza was in place as an Egyptian garrison no later than Thutmose III’s first campaign,43 although it remains uncertain if it was already in Egyptian hands before this. The extent to which Gaza was settled during the Middle or Late Bronze Ages remains, of course, unknown. Regardless, to the north of Gaza, the next parcel of territory that faced Egyptian conquest prior to Thutmose III lay along the Nahal Shiqma at a point nearly directly inland from Ashkelon. The LB I destruction of Ashkelon identified by Phythian-Adams44 has not been corroborated as a city-wide destruction by the most recent excavations,45 despite the limited evidence of any sort for occupational remains of the LB I within the main excavation areas of the Leon Levy Expedition. If Ashkelon was subdued during this period, this action is likely to have been contemporary with the Nahal Shiqma operation along which Nagila lay. Nearby Nagila had been fortified during the MB II–III,46 but Level VII was evidently brought to an end by a conflagration.47 To Nagila’s northeast, the well-fortified Lachish48 was burned before the end of the MB III.49 At this site, another enigmatic tunnel was identified by Tufnell as the work of sapper’s,50 although this identification is considered unlikely.51 A cluster of contemporary destructions can also be identified further to the northeast of Ashkelon, again at sites that are not identified in Thutmose III’s lists. These include Timnah, Gezer, and Beth-Shemesh. Timnah X revealed thick destruction debris dated by its excavator to the late sixteenth century BC.52 The destruction of Gezer XVIII (Qasru, no. 104) has been dated by William Dever to this period.53 Although the extent of construction, or more properly maintenance, undertaken for these fortifications during the LB IA is unclear, the fortifications appear to have been in place during the transition with some additional glacis construction thereafter.54 Beth-Shemesh’s destruction, as argued by Weinstein, is likely to represent a LB IA destruction.55 Absent among references from Thutmose III’s toponyms is any name to be identified with Yavneh-Yam, which was abandoned during this period. If the destruction of the above mentioned sites during the LB IA was not the result of Thutmose III’s campaign, since there are no references to these places among Ahmose’s early campaigns, it is reasonable to suggest that to the extent that this area was pacified, as suggested by LB IA destruction layers at the above sites, this process occurred after the reign of Ahmose and before that of Thumose III, being ascribed to either Amenhotep I, Thutmose I, Thutmose II, or Hatshepsut. Unfortunately, in none of the extant sources for these rulers is mention made of specific 43

Morris 2005, 39. Phythian-Adams 1923, 65. 45 Stager 2008, 1580. 46 Burke 2008, 298–299. 47 Amiran / Eitan 1993, 1080–1081. 48 Burke 2008, 287–288. 49 Ussishkin 1993b, 898–899; Level P-4, see Ussishkin 2004, 154–160. 50 Tufnell 1958, pl. 6. 51 Burke 2008, 288. 52 Mazar 1997, 41–45. 53 Dever 1993, 501. 54 Burke 2008, 262–263. 55 Also Burke 2008; Weinstein 1981, 3. 44

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campaigns in Canaan and little evidence is available to suggest a most likely candidate among them. Thutmose I, and perhaps his predecessor Amenhotep I, made excursions into the northern Levant, but make no reference to the south.56 More tantalizing, however, is a reference to a punitive campaign by Thutmose II against the Shasu after which he also moved on to action in the northern Levant.57 The association of the Shasu with the Negev and regions east may make Thutmose II a potential candidate for the destruction of Malhata, mentioned above, that has been dated to the mid-sixteenth century. Hatshepsut’s claims concerning campaigning, as noted by Redford, were probably “plucked from the traditional jargon” and permit to “isolate but a few, and rather innocuous, excursions” including mining in Sinai and a trip to Byblos.58 Therefore, despite a relative degree of confidence that Thutmose III was not actively engaged in the subjugation of the southern coastal plain, which apparently took place before his reign, it remains impossible to associate the region’s subjugation after Ahmose’s defeat of Sharuhen with the activity of the four pharaoh’s preceding Thutmose III. Canaan under Thutmose III In his study of the Egyptian New Kingdom Empire, James Weinstein noted that “none of the westernmost sites north of Ashkelon need necessarily have been destroyed or abandoned as early as the mid-16th century B.C.” making them “quite different from most of those in the southern and inland parts of Palestine”.59 More plainly stated, there is no basis for dating the destructions of sites north of Ashkelon before the reign of Thutmose III, and it is only with the reign of Thutmose III that the destruction of sites in Canaan can plausibly be associated with specific Egyptian campaigns. The toponym list of Thutmose has been extensively discussed by Donald Redford,60 but questions nevertheless remain regarding the nature of the lists. Can they, for example, be identified as more than an itinerary? Who was the intended audience and what purpose did they serve? Answering such questions is complicated by the nature of our efforts to use them as historical sources, as discussed by Redford. It would be unreasonable, for example, to expect destructions of a singular character at all of the sites listed, which were of varying size and strategic importance, in order to identify them as conquered by Thutmose III, which seems at a minimum suggested by their inclusion in this list. Thus in this context, as underscored in the preceding section, the destroyed MB III–LB IA settlements that are not included among these toponyms are more significant. The inference being that they were destroyed by one of Thutmose III’s predecessors. As Weinstein has observed, the areas where Thutmose III claims no activity were in “south-central Palestine, in the eastern Shephelah, in the hill country, or in the southern half of the Jordan Valley”.61

56

Morris 2005, 30–33. Morris 2005, 33f. 58 Redford 1992, 152. 59 Weinstein 1981, 5. 60 Redford 2003, 43–56. 61 Weinstein 1981, 11. 57

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While the prologue to this list refers generally to lawlessness and chaos in Retenu and the ensuing “rebellion against His Majesty” the pharaoh as the basis for Thutmose III’s campaign,62 the context for this statement is none other than the coalition formed by the king of Qadesh to meet the pharaoh in battle. Thutmose III, while fortunate to have caught the Canaanite armies (or at least most of them, allowing for considerable exaggeration by the pharaoh) at Megiddo, was as prepared for open battle as he was for siege warfare against Canaanite towns. The destruction of Megiddo IX is traditionally identified as the result of the Egyptian siege,63 although Weinstein has noted that there is no clear evidence of a destruction associated with this Egyptian action.64 It is fair, therefore, to characterize the defeat of the coalition and, by extension, the armies of its individual participants as the defeat or conquest of the individual towns from which these armies were levied. There simply would have been no substantive defense left for these communities to muster during any effort by Thutmose III to force the capitulation of these towns, and certainly no hope of their defense by neighboring allies, most of whom we may conclude were also routed at Megiddo. In this respect, the circumstances surrounding Thutmose III’s campaign in year 23, which was of considerable luck for the pharaoh, are entirely unique when compared to the campaigns of his predecessors and the usual circumstances encountered in Canaan by his successors. In this fashion the aftermath of his campaign must be regarded as similarly unique, and in every respect far more extensive than the conquests of nearly any other Eighteenth Dynasty pharaoh. The central fact for rectifying the historical context of MB III–LB IA destructions north of Ashkelon given their identification with Egyptian campaigns is that by a process of elimination these destructions can be assigned to no later a pharaoh than Thutmose III, if they are not to be downdated to the LB IB or later. LB IA destructions and abandonments, which are not accounted for by the campaigns of earlier pharaohs include sites in the central coastal plain, the hill country, the Upper Galilee, the north coast, and the Jordan Valley. Whether in cases relating to the aftermath of Megiddo, these destruction levels were either fits of orgiastic plundering by Egyptian soldiers or systematic, although undocumented, sieges is not likely to be demonstrated. Nevertheless, all of these sites were destroyed at some point prior to the start of the LB IB, and for the reasons cited above unlikely to have been the work of Thutmose III’s predecessors. In the central coastal plain, destructions that may be the work of Thutmose III during this period are attested at Jaffa, Gerisa, Aphek, Michal, and Mevorakh. Jacob Kaplan identified a destruction layer that he attributed to the conquest of Canaan at Jaffa dated to this transition.65 Gerisa’s fortified MB III settlement was destroyed,66 while Aphek’s Palace III of the MB III (’Apuqn?, no. 66) was destroyed in the midsixteenth century BC according to Beck and Kochavi.67 Ze‘ev Herzog has attributed the late Middle Bronze Age destruction of Tel Michal to tectonic activity, down-

62

Redford 2003, 9. Aharoni 1993, 1010. 64 Weinstein 1981, 11. 65 Kaplan 1972, 78. 66 Herzog 1993, 481. 67 Beck / Kochavi 1993, 67. 63

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playing the presence of considerable amounts of brick and ash from the settlement that were present during the construction of the LB I rampart.68 Nevertheless, the contemporaneous destruction of the site with others during this period throughout the coastal plain, as well as the lack of unequivocal evidence for a tsunami, makes such an ascription unlikely. The evidence from Tel Mevorakh is instructive in that it illustrates the transition of a roadside fortress, which was well-fortified throughout the Middle Bronze Age,69 into an unfortified roadside sanctuary (Stratum XI) during the LB I70 with no interruption in occupation, as appears to have been the case at most settlements that were destroyed in this period. Stern attributes Mevorak’s destruction at the end of the MB III to Thutmose III’s campaigns.71 Accompanying these destructions is the apparent abandonment of Megadim, 2 km north of ‘Atlit during the MB–LB transition.72 It is particularly remarkable that no hill country sites are mentioned among the campaigns of Egyptian New Kingdom pharaohs, and Shechem and Jerusalem only receive first mention during the Late Bronze Age in the Amarna period and are never identified among the targets of New Kingdom campaigns. It is tempting to infer that the hill country was not only not a central object of Egyptian campaigning because of the difficulty it posed for military operations, but that these sites receive no mention because they were also not located on major thoroughfares and thus never a part of regular itineraries. Nevertheless, a number of MB III–LB IA destructions are attested in the hill country, and these suggest some level of military activity, most likely by Egypt, but probably without the participation of the pharaoh on what were undoubtedly considered high-risk missions. The destructions of a number of excavated sites in the hill country have been attributed to Egyptian activity in this period without further refinement. These include Tell Beit Mirsim,73 Beth-Zur,74 Beth-El,75 Shechem XV,76 Shiloh,77 Gibeon,78 as well as Dothan, and Taanach. Dothan was claimed to have been destroyed during this transition by Joseph Free, but this assertion was not corroborated by the recent publication of the excavation’s results,79 and indeed the identification is no longer accepted between the site and any reference in Thutmose’s list.80 Thutmose III’s campaign against Megiddo also hit nearby Taanach (no. 42), which shows evidence of destruction during this period.81 Numerous destructions have also been identified north of Megiddo. Along the

68

Herzog 1989, 38. Burke 2008, 295–296. 70 Stern 1984, 4–6. 71 Stern 1984, 37–39. 72 Broshi 1993, 1001. 73 Greenberg 1993, 178. 74 Sellers 1933, 9. 75 Kelso 1993, 193. 76 Campbell 2002, 137–139, and passim. 77 Finkelstein 1993, 61–62; Watkins 1997, 29. 78 See summary by Weinstein 1981, 3. 79 Master et al. 2005, 49–55. 80 Ussishkin 1993a, 372. 81 Glock 1993, 1432. 69

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north coast northwest of Megiddo, Akko,82 and Achzib,83 were destroyed in this period. Kabri, though not evidently destroyed, was abandoned at the end of the MB III.84 In the Upper Galilee, both Tel Dan (Laish, no. 31?), Stratum IX, and Hazor (no. 32), Stratum XVI/3,85 were destroyed. It should be noted, however, that the destruction of Hazor XVI/3 is attributed to Ahmose by Ben-Tor,86 despite an absence of evidence for this pharaoh’s presence this far north. In the Jordan Valley, Jericho, Tel Kitan, Tell Deir ‘Allā, Tell Abu Kharaz, and Pella all experienced destructions during the LB IA.87 Jericho88 and Tel Kitan Level IV89 both produced evidence of destructions. Tell Deir ‘Alla also appears to have experienced a site-wide destruction at the end of the Middle Bronze Age.90 The casemate fortifications of Phase IV/2 of Tell Abu Kharaz were destroyed during this period,91 and its subsequent fortifications, which are dated to the LB I on the presence of Base-Ring I ware, were rebuilt during Phase V and destroyed again.92 The mudbrick fortification wall of Pella Phase VIC (possibly Pihilu, no. 33) was also part of a fiery destruction.93 Although Redford has attempted to enfeeble the nature of Egypt’s efforts during this period by characterizing its early military campaigns as incompetent and deconstructing every dimension of them from Egypt’s early siege tactics to the very significance of the toponyms listed at Karnak, it is worthwhile to consider the methods and strategy of Egypt’s expanding empire as effectively the emulation of the ways and means of Middle Bronze Age warfare.94 No unequivocal evidence exists to the contrary to support the suggestion that Egypt was less accustomed to siege warfare, wary of losses associated with sieges, or generally unprepared to build an empire. The history of Egyptian warfare before the New Kingdom, in fact, suggests otherwise. Although Egypt’s military intervention in the Levant during the Middle King82

Dothan 1993, 20. Prausnitz / Mazar 1993, 32. 84 Kempinski 2002, 451. 85 Ben-Tor 1993. 86 Ben-Tor 1993, 606. 87 Tel Hadar is also claimed by its excavator to have been both founded and destroyed during the LB I (Kochavi 1997, 451). 88 Kenyon 1993, 680. 89 Eisenberg 1993, 881. 90 Van der Kooij 2006, 223. 91 Fischer 2006b, 342. 92 Fischer 2006b, 342–345. 93 Bourke et al. 2006, 26. Bourke et al. maintain that the Phase VIC destruction, which is designated an earthquake destruction albeit fiery, occurred during the MB III occupation at Pella since the excavators identify two subsequent constructional phases assigned to the MB III (Bourke et al. 2006, 26–28). Nevertheless, elsewhere Bourke notes that at best Phase VIC must be characterized as MB III–LB IA in character (Bourke 2006, 246). Given that the radiocarbon dates presented for sites in the Jordan Valley (Fischer 2006a) do not offer sufficient resolution to permit subphasing of the MB I–III sequence, there is at this point no reason to exclude the Pella Phase VIC destruction from inclusion with other contemporary destructions during this transition and hence no reason not to consider Pella’s destruction as most likely the work of Thutmose III. 94 Burke 2008, 94–102. 83

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dom in the southern Levant may not have constituted an empire,95 an increasing body of evidence suggests that Middle Kingdom campaigns provided a potential template for New Kingdom intervention in the Levant.96 This activity along with a history of internecine feuding between Egyptian nomes during two preceding intermediate periods establishes that Egypt possessed no less capable a tradition of siege warfare than any of its neighbors.97 The New Kingdom did, however, face a well defended landscape at the end of the Middle Bronze Age that required the efforts of more than a single pharaoh to subdue over the course of the early Eighteenth Dynasty and considerable effort thereafter to retain these and newly added conquests. The Aftermath of Early Eighteenth Dynasty Campaigns The transition from the MB III to LB I, which is maintained was the result almost entirely of Egypt’s increasing imperial presence, brought about substantial changes in settlement patterns,98 urbanization,99 and political organization during the Late Bronze Age,100 and from the LB IB was accompanied by the presence of Egyptian garrisons. Several observations are added here to the discussion concerning the effects of early Eighteenth Dynasty campaigns on political organization, the nature of Thutmose’s Canaanite campaigns, and Canaanite defenses during the Late Bronze Age. In the first place, it is possible to identify the political and military process of the balkanization of Middle Bronze Age kingdoms whereby these Canaanite kingdoms were broken into their constituent base units (i.e., provinces), which then formed the basis of much smaller Late Bronze Age polities (often called city-states). Insofar as we can discern, these were always vassals of Egypt and not independent as city-states are so often identified. In light of the understanding available concerning the status quo during the MB III for the landscape of the kingdom of Ashkelon,101 the above historical framework reveals the process by which large territorial states, such as Ashkelon and Hazor, were gradually dismantled, being fragmented into their districts by means of a protracted period of siege warfare waged against their hinterland settlements. The net effect was a loss of control by the capital city over its hinterland, particularly the critical second-tier settlements that formed its strategic defenses and the accompanying populations that served in its army. Divested of control of these settlements, kingdoms such as Ashkelon did indeed experience a manpower shortage, as suggested by Bunimovitz.102 However, rather than the product of attrition and deportation, this shortage was most likely the result of an inability to adequately organize the necessary, but existing, labor and cooperation from among multiple settlements within their ever-diminishing former territories, which had been inherent to the strategic framework of MB II–III kingdoms. It was not until after the reign of Thutmose III that substantive deportations were undertaken. With the dev95

Weinstein 1975. E.g., Allen 2008; Burke 2008, 98–100; Larkman 2007; Marcus 2007. 97 Schulman 1964, 1982. 98 Bunimovitz 1995. 99 Gonen 1984. 100 Finkelstein 1996; Jasmin 2006; Na’aman 1997. 101 Burke 2008, 125–135. 102 Bunimovitz 1994. 96

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astation of so many settlements over such a relatively short period of time, and the sustained presence of Egyptian forces that threatened the region on a continual basis from the reign of Thutmose III onward, finding an adequate opportunity to reassert Canaanite independence proved effectively impossible. Canaan was therefore kept on its proverbial toes by the persistent activity of New Kingdom armies on nearly annual campaigns. Just as the first major attempt to mobilize a coalition against Egypt emerged, Thutmose III arranged to take this force by surprise and to deny them the opportunity to meet the Egyptian army in open battle. The true genius of Thutmose was his strategy, which was to prevent an open battle between massive Egyptian and Canaanite armies in the coastal plain or Jezreel Valley, and not the tactical employment of the element of surprise. Unprepared for a long siege with such an enormous population within the walls of Megiddo, Thutmose guaranteed that the coalition had no hope of success where under normal conditions Megiddo’s population might have hoped for the appearance of a relieving army. Instead, the lengthy siege would have permitted detachments of Egyptian troops to range across northern Canaan, entering if not besieging, sacking, and plundering to the extent that they wished numerous defenseless settlements whose able-bodied men were ensnared at Megiddo. Such a scenario therefore would account for the subjugation of many places on the long list of toponyms of Thutmose III at Karnak. Furthermore, we may account for the difference between the maximalist interpretation, which asserts unequivocally that the siege of all of the listed sites occurred, and the minimalist assertion that the list is effectively meaningless as a historical document. Wherever the truth may lie on this continuum, Thutmose was effectively able to eradicate a substantial source of future resistance by the Canaanite populations north of Jaffa, who may have been enticed by their southern neighbors in the coastal plain to assist them in liberating their lands. What this process reveals is that annual and sustained Egyptian campaigns beginning with the reign of Thutmose III through the end of the LB IB, at the least, into regions that lay beyond the limits of the most recent Egyptian campaigns resulted in unconquered regions, mostly to the north, being effectively thwarted from organizing support for regions, mostly in the south, that had already fallen under Egyptian control. The only hope offered to regions that were not entirely devastated by Egypt’s victories under Thutmose III was, therefore, in the maintenance or, whenever possible, rapid rebuilding of their fortifications. This appears to have taken place where rulers remained able to muster the requisite manpower and they perceived that they could effectively oppose Egyptian siege efforts in the years to come, despite the perception of a largely unfortified landscape throughout the Late Bronze Age.103 Although space does not permit a treatise on the continued fortification of settlements during the remainder of the Late Bronze Age, a clear pattern does exist. The bulk of fortified Late Bronze Age settlements in Canaan were located beyond the primary area of early Egyptian forays into Canaan, particularly in most northern Canaan, the highlands, and Transjordan, all of which were areas on the periphery of Thutmose III’s conquests. Sites fortified during later stages of the Late Bronze Age

103

Gonen 1984.

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include Hazor, Akko,104 Shechem,105 Bethel,106 Tell el-Oreme,107 Karnei Hittin,108 in addition to recent evidence from Beth-Shemesh, and several sites in Jordan including Tell Safut,109 Sahab,110 Tell el-Fukhar,111 and Tell Zera‘a.112 If an Egyptian policy was in place across Canaan subverting the construction of walls, the existence of Late Bronze Age walls at these sites will need to be explained. Furthermore, Egyptian reliefs dating to the LB II period show settlements such as Ashkelon with walls,113 despite the lack of archaeological evidence to support this. It would seem, therefore, that certain areas within Canaan from the LB IB onward remained beyond Egypt’s real control and that Egyptian control was largely limited to the coastal plain, Jezreel Valley and the upper Jordan Valley. By the end of the LB IA, it is not possible to assert that Egypt had meaningful control of Transjordan or much of the region to the north and northeast of the Jezreel Valley. This reconstruction would be in line with the bulk of toponyms of Thutmose III that can be precisely located and the location of the battle of Megiddo, which can be called the epicenter of Thutmose’s military activity in Canaan. It can also be argued that an additional observation regarding the shift in policy introduced most likely by Thutmose III was the emplacement of Egyptian garrisons and some level of administration albeit probably rudimentary, which was now necessary to facilitate the ever-increasing distance required to subdue neighboring Canaanite enclaves who threatened Egypt’s most recent acquisitions. Of particular interest, for example, is the potential for identifying additional evidence for the earliest Egyptian garrisons, which are often attributed to Thutmose III.114 In addition to Gaza discussed earlier, one such garrison may have been added at Jaffa and is also alluded to in the Tale of the Capture of Jaffa.115 Morris has identified Gaza and Jaffa, among others, as harbor bases (Egy. ḫtm) that were probably founded during the reign of Thutmose III.116 Although uncertainty has existed concerning the date that is to be assigned to its foundation, recent efforts to process and publish Kaplan’s excavations by the Jaffa Cultural Heritage Project have yielded a fresh glimpse of a heavily Egyptianized LB I settlement that bears the earmarks of an Egyptian garrison, possessing one of the largest collections of Egyptian and Egyptianizing vessels yet attested in the southern Levant.117 Based on the Egyptian dates for certain ce104

Dothan 1993, 21. Campbell 2002, 169ff. 106 Kelso 1968, 11, 16. 107 Fritz 2000, 508. 108 See Gonen 1984, Table 1. 109 Wimmer 1997, 449. 110 Ibrahim 1975, 78–80; 1987, 76f.; 1989, 519. 111 De Vries 1992, 717. 112 Vieweger / Häser 2005, 14, abb. 13; 2007, 151. 113 Stager 1985. 114 Redford 2003, 255–257. 115 Simpson 2003, 72–74. 116 Morris 2005, 138–139, n. 190. 117 The Jaffa Cultural Heritage Project under the direction of the author and Martin Peilstöcker are working to publish the Bronze and Iron Age remains of Jaffa excavated by Jacob Kaplan from 1955–1974. The initiative has been supported since 2008 by a grant from the WhiteLevy Program for Archaeological Publications. 105

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ramic forms, such as the flowerpot-shaped beer jars as well as their stratigraphic situation, an early to mid-fifteenth century date for the assemblage appears likely.118 This is, therefore, the first archaeological evidence that has been presented that can substantiate the garrison’s existence at such an early date. While the overall dimensions of this fortress complex are unknown, the site’s topography allows for a substantial fortress with dimensions quite possibly as large as those of the Egyptian fortress constructed at Sesebi in Nubia.119 Within Canaan and excluding Ullaza, Jaffa was therefore the most northerly of Egypt’s garrisons, with Gaza to the south being the only other one known to have been founded by at least the reign of Thutmose III. In light of our ability to confirm the existence of a garrison at Jaffa, it is unnecessary to suggest that the “notable lack of archaeological evidence for Egyptian buildings on Canaanite soil strongly suggests that the usurpation of Canaanite structures may have been a normative practice in the Eighteenth Dynasty”.120 Conclusions The foregoing reconstruction of the early history of New Kingdom expansion into Canaan reveals a number of important observations concerning the historical process and its archaeological correlates during the LB IA. Three historical phases can be discerned in the development of Egypt’s early empire that included 1) campaigns by Ahmose up to the Nahals Besor and Beersheba; 2) campaigns by Ahmose’s successors to the north of this region up through and including sites just to the north of Ashkelon; and 3) conquests by Thutmose III from Jaffa through the Galilee followed by the establishment of early garrisons as for example at Jaffa. The archaeology related to these events reveals that there are a variety of outcomes for MB III fortification systems during the LB IA and later. Many Canaanite cities were walled until Egyptian (or in some instances other unidentified assailants may have) destroyed them during the LB IA (e.g., ‘Ajjul). Some remained fortified or maintained their fortifications (e.g., Hazor), although most often only the rear walls of domestic structures (e.g., Timnah) or casemate walls (e.g., Tell Abu Kharaz) could be expected to provide any security, while other sites were abandoned for lack of means and motivation, particularly at sites that experienced substantial decreases in their population (e.g., Haror). Second, Late Bronze Age fortification strategies, despite a disruption associated with Egyptian sieges, continued MB II–III fortification strategies, namely, a yielding of more and more land to the construction of houses at the edge of these old mounds, which resulted from a gradual demographic increase in the population over the course of the second millennium, and the need to employ casemate wall construction to facilitate the building of multi-purpose structures. Third, examples of fortified MB cities, especially in areas away from main international routes, as in Transjordan, reveal a degree of continuity between the fortification strategy of the Middle and Late Bronze Ages (e.g., Tell Abu Kharaz). However, these sites are less likely to have been of significant concern to the Egyptian empire and appear initially to be 118

Burke / Mandell, forthcoming. Blackman 1937. 120 Morris 2005, 152f. 119

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located well off of the main routes secured by Egypt. In light of the observations made here, it is difficult to imagine an Egyptian policy, as suggested by Gonen, whereby in addition to meeting foreign armies in occasional set-piece battles, besieging the cities of insurgents, while staving off ambushes, the Egyptians deliberately destroyed the fortifications of conquered Canaanite towns during the LB IA. Likewise, it is difficult to accept that Canaanites were conscripted, convinced, or compelled to deliberately destroy their own fortifications by the Egyptians. It is more likely, as reconstructed above, that MB III fortifications either 1) were subject to destruction during Egyptian siege in the LB IA (e.g., ‘Ajjul, Shechem), 2) fell into disrepair over a lengthy period of time being abandoned and not maintained (e.g., Tel Haror), or 3) were gradually replaced by the modest walls of residences that later formed the perimeter wall of some settlements (e.g., Timnah). A deliberate Egyptian policy is unnecessary to account for the outcomes attested in the archaeological record. To these reasons it may be added that New Kingdom pharaohs, in their effort to maintain control of the region, would have recognized that the defense of Canaan’s individual settlements—as Egypt’s vassals—was in the best interest of the empire’s ability to both maintain its holdings, particularly against would-be aggressors, and to expand its territory during subsequent campaigns. The metaphor is that of the chain that is only as strong as its weakest link; a weak city constituted a weak link in a network of defended settlements. Vassals perpetually concerned with their own defense are also not well disposed to provide predictable tribute, whether annual or otherwise, and would have been subject to the deprecations of their neighbors beyond the reach of Egypt and would have been more likely therefore to ally themselves against their Egyptian overlords. It would have been antithetical, therefore, to the maintenance of Egypt’s control of Retenu to prohibit what constituted the “strategic defenses” of Egypt’s Levantine empire.121 The fortification of settlements that were added to Egyptian control particularly on the edge of Egyptian territorial expansion would have been critical to the defense of these settlements in the face of both Mitannian and later Hittite attempts to conquer this same territory. Walled settlements, like many types of weaponry, work both ways and thus cannot be considered, in and of themselves, counterproductive to Egyptian efforts to control Canaan. It appears, therefore, that following the conquest of Canaan and, especially, the southern coastal plain—particularly in the wake of Egyptian sieges—freestanding defensive walls were not constructed, although the rear walls of domestic buildings served to provide a modest enclosure and defense of these settlements. Rather than an Egyptian policy, the political and socioeconomic milieu,122 with Egyptian forces in such close proximity and often garrisoned within these towns, is likely to have 121

That walls were more important to the power wishing to maintain control of a community or territory, than they were to the inhabitants of a settlement itself, is supported by the fact that no other ancient Near Eastern empire, whether Assyrian, Babylonian, or Achaemenid, ever appears to have adopted a common policy of prohibiting or limiting the construction of fortifications. Indeed, the singular case where such an effort was attempted demonstrates the point. The Samaritans wished to block Judah’s efforts to rebuild the fortifications of Persian period Jerusalem during the fifth century BC, at first by insinuating that to do so was to rebel against the king despite the king’s approval of the plan (Nehemiah 2, 19). 122 E.g., Bunimovitz 1994.

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been sufficiently repressive to have resulted in the neglect of one of the most important activities of Canaanite rulers during the preceding centuries. Bibliography Aharoni, Y., 1993: Megiddo: The Neolithic Period to the End of the Bronze Age. In E. Stern (ed.): The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land (vol. 3) (2nd English edition). Jerusalem. Pp. 1003–1012. Allen, J. P., 2008: The Historical Inscription of Khnumhotep and Dahshur: Preliminary Report. BASOR 352, 29–39. Amiran, R. / Eitan, A., 1993: Nagila, Tel. In E. Stern (ed.): The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land (vol. 3) (2nd English edition). Jerusalem. Pp. 1079–1081. Beck, P. / Kochavi, M., 1993: Aphek. In E. Stern (ed.): The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land (vol. 1). New York. Pp. 64–72. Van Beek, G. W., 1993: Jemmeh, Tell. In E. Stern (ed.): The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land (vol. 2) (2nd English edition). Jerusalem. Pp. 667–674. Ben-Tor, A., 1993: Hazor. In E. Stern (ed.): The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land (vol. 2) (2nd English edition). Jerusalem. Pp. 594–606. Blackman, A. M., 1937: Preliminary Report on the Excavations of Sesebi, Northern Province, Anglo-Egyptian Sudan, 1936–37. JEA 23, 145–151. Bourke, S. J., 2006: Pella and the Jordanian Middle and Late Bronze Ages. In P. M. Fischer (ed.): The Chronology of the Jordan Valley during the Middle and Late Bronze Ages: Pella, Tell Abu al-Kharaz, and Tell Deir ‘Alla. Vienna, Pp. 243– 256. Bourke, S. J. / Sparks, R. T. / Schroder, M., 2006: Pella in the Middle Bronze Age. In P. M. Fischer (ed.): The Chronology of the Jordan Valley during the Middle and Late Bronze Ages: Pella, Tell Abu al-Kharaz, and Tell Deir ‘Alla. Vienna, Pp. 9–58. Broshi, M., 1993: Megadim, Tel. In E. Stern (ed.): The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land (vol. 3) (2nd English edition). Jerusalem. Pp. 101–1003. Bunimovitz, S., 1994: The Problems of Human Resources in Late Bronze Age Palestine and its Socioeconomic Implications. UF 26, 1–20. ― 1995: On the Edge of Empires—Late Bronze Age (1500–1200 BCE). In T. E. Levy (ed.): The Archaeology of Society in the Holy Land. New York. Pp. 320– 331. Burke, A. A., 2007: Magdalūma, Migdālîm, Magdoloi, and Majādïl: The Historical Geography and Archaeology of the Magdalu (Migdāl). BASOR 346, 29–57. ― 2008: “Walled Up to Heaven”: The Evolution of Middle Bronze Age Fortification Strategies in the Levant. Winona Lake. ― 2009: More Light on Old Reliefs: New Kingdom Egyptian Siege Tactics and Asiatic Resistance. In J. D. Schloen (ed.): Exploring the Longue Durée: Essays in Honor of Lawrence E. Stager. Winona Lake. Pp. 57–68.

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Burke, A. A. / Mandell, A. R., forthcoming: Egyptian Beer Jugs from Kaplan’s Excavations at Jaffa: Cultural and Historical Implications. In M. Peilstöcker / A. A. Burke (eds.): Studies on the History and Archaeology of Jaffa 1. Los Angeles. Campbell, E. F., 2002: Shechem III, The Stratigraphy and Architecture of Shechem/Tell Balatah, Volume I: Text. Atlanta. De Vries, B., 1992: Archaeology in Jordan. AJA 96(3), 503–542. Dever, W. G., 1987: The Middle Bronze Age: The Zenith of the Urban Canaanite Era. BA 50(3), 148–177. ― 1993: Gezer. In E. Stern (ed.): The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land (vol. 2) (2nd English edition). Jerusalem. Pp. 496–506. ― 1998: Hurrian Incursions and the End of the Middle Bronze Age in Syria-Palestine: A Rejoinder to Nadav Na’aman. In L. H. Lesko (ed.): Ancient Egyptian and Mediterranean Studies in Memory of William A. Ward. Providence. Pp. 91–110. Dothan, M., 1993: Acco (Tel Acco). In E. Stern (ed.): The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land (vol. 1) (2nd English edition). Jerusalem. Pp. 16–24. Eisenberg, E., 1993: Kitan, Tel. In E. Stern (ed.): The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land (vol. 3) (2nd English edition). Jerusalem. Pp. 878–881. Fargo, V. M., 1993: Hesi, Tell el-. In E. Stern (ed.): The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land (vol. 2) (2nd English edition). Jerusalem. Pp. 630–634. Finkelstein, I. 1996: The Territorial-Political System of Canaan in the Late Bronze Age. UF 28, 221–255. Fischer, P. M. (editor), 2006a: The Chronology of the Jordan Valley during the Middle and Late Bronze Ages: Pella, Tell Abu al-Kharaz, and Tell Deir ‘Alla. Vienna. ― 2006b: Tell Abu al-Kharaz in the Jordan Valley II: The Middle and Late Bronze Ages. 2 vols. Vienna. Fritz, V., 2000: Bronze Age Features in Cities of the Early Iron Age in the Southern Levant. In P. Matthiae / A. Enea / L. Peyronel / F. Pinnock (eds.): Proceedings of the First International Congress on the Archaeology of the Ancient Near East, Rome May 18th–23rd 1998 (vol. 1). Rome. Pp. 507–511. Glock, A. E., 1993: Taanach. In E. Stern (ed.): The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land (vol. 4) (2nd English edition). Jerusalem. Pp. 1428–1433. Gonen, R., 1981: Tell el-‘Ajjul in the Late Bronze Age—City or Cemetery? EI 15, 69–78, 80* (Hebrew with Eng. abstract). ― 1984: Urban Canaan in the Late Bronze Period. BASOR 253, 61–73. Greenberg, R., 1993: Beit Mirsim, Tell. In E. Stern (ed.): The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land (vol. 2) (2nd English edition). Jerusalem. Pp. 177–180. Herzog, Z., 1989: Middle and Late Bronze Age Settlements (Strata XVII–XV). In Z. Herzog / G. R. Rapp / O. Negbi (eds.): Excavations at Tel Michal, Israel. Minneapolis. Pp. 29–42. ― 1993: Gerisa, Tel. In E. Stern: The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land (vol. 2) (2nd English edition). Jerusalem. Pp. 480–484.

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Hoffmeier, J. K. 1990: Some Thoughts on William G. Dever’s “‘Hyksos,’ Egyptian Destructions, and the End of the Palestinian Middle Bronze Age”. Levant 22, 83– 89. ― 1991: James Weinstein’s ‘Egypt and the Middle Bronze IIC/Late Bronze IA Transition in Palestine’. Levant 23, 117–124. Ibrahim, M. M., 1975: Third Season of Excavations at Sahab, 1975 (Preliminary Report). ADAJ 20, 69–82. ― 1987: Sahab and Its Foreign Relations. ADAJ 31, 73–81. ― 1989: Sahab. In D. Homès-Fredericq / J. B. Hennessy (eds.): Archaeology of Jordan II. 2, Field Reports: Surveys and Sites L–Z. Leuven. Pp. 516–520. Jasmin, M., 2006: The Political Organization of the City-States in Southwestern Palestine in the Late Bronze Age IIB (13th Century BC). In A. M. Maeir / P. D. Miroschedji (eds.): “I Will Speak the Riddles of Ancient Times”: Archaeological and Historical Studies in Honor of Amihai Mazar on the Occasion of His Sixtieth Birthday (vol. 1). Winona Lake. Pp. 161–191. Kaplan, J., 1972: The Archaeology and History of Tel-Aviv-Jaffa. BA 35(3), 66–95. Keegan, J., 1993: A History of Warfare. New York. Kelso, J. L., 1968: The Excavation of Bethel. Cambridge, MA. ― 1993: Bethel. In E. Stern (ed.): The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land (vol. 1) (2nd English edition). Jerusalem. Pp. 192–194. Kempinski, A., 1974: Tell el-‘Ajjûl—Beth-Aglayim or Sharuhen? IEJ 24(3–4), 145– 152. ― 2002: Tel Kabri: The 1986–1993 Excavation Seasons. Tel Aviv. Kenyon, K. M., 1993: Jericho. In E. Stern (ed.): The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land (2nd English edition). Jerusalem. Pp. 674–681. Kitchen, K. A., 2000: Regnal and Genealogical Data of Ancient Egypt (Absolute Chronology I). The Historical Chronology of Ancient Egypt: A Current Assessment. In M. Bietak (ed.): The Synchronisation of Civilisa-tions in the Eastern Mediterranean in the Second Millennium B.C.: Proceedings of an International Symposium at Schloss Haindorf, 15th–17th November 1996 and at the Austrian Academy, Vienna, 11th–12th of May 1998. Vienna. Pp. 39–52. Kochavi, M. 1967: Notes and News: Tel Malhata. IEJ 17, 272–273. ― 1992: Malhata, Tel. In D. N. Freedman (ed.): The Anchor Bible Dictionary (vol. 4). New York. Pp. 487–488. ― 1997: Hadar, Tel. In E. M. Meyers (ed.): The Oxford Encyclopedia of Archaeology in the Near East (vol. 2). New York. Pp. 450–452. van der Kooij, G., 2006: Tell Deir ‘Alla: The Middle and Late Bronze Age Chronology. In P. M. Fischer (ed.): The Chronology of the Jordan Valley during the Middle and Late Bronze Ages: Pella, Tell Abu al-Kharaz, and Tell Deir ‘Alla. Vienna. Pp. 199–226. Larkman, S. J., 2007: Human Cargo: Transportation of Western Asiatic People during the 11th and 12th Dynasty. JSSEA 34, 107–113. Marcus, E. S. 2007: Amenemhet II and the Sea: Maritime Aspects of the Mit Rahina (Memphis) Inscription. ÄuL 17, 137–190. Master, D. M. / Monson, J. M. / Lass, E. H. E. / Pierce, G. A. (eds.), 2005: Dothan I: Remains from the Tell (1953–1964). Winona Lake.

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Mazar, A., 1997: Timnah (Tel Batash) I: Stratigraphy and Architecture. (2 vols.). Jerusalem. Morris, E. F., 2005: The Architecture of Imperialism: Military Bases and the Evolution of Foreign Policy in Egypt’s New Kingdom. Leiden. Na’aman, N., 1994: The Hurrians and the End of the Middle Bronze Age in Palestine. Levant 26, 175–187. ― 1997: The Network of Canaanite Late Bronze Kingdoms and the City of Ashdod. UF 29, 599–625. Oren, E. D., 1993a: Haror, Tel. In E. Stern (ed.): The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land (2nd English edition). Jerusalem. Pp. 580–584. ― 1993b: Sera‘, Tel. In E. Stern (ed.): The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land (2nd English edition). Jerusalem. Pp. 1329–1335. Phythian-Adams, W. J., 1923: Report on the stratification of Askalon. PEFQS (April), 76–90. Prausnitz, M. W. / Mazar, E., 1993: Achzib. In E. Stern (ed.): The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land (2nd English edition). Jerusalem. Pp. 32–36. Redford, D. B., 1992: Egypt, Canaan, and Israel in Ancient Times. Princeton. ― 2003: The Wars in Syria and Palestine of Thutmoses III. Boston. Schulman, A. R., 1964: Siege Warfare in Pharaonic Egypt. Natural History 73(3), 12–21. ― 1982: The battle scenes of the Middle Kingdom. JSSEA 12, 165–183. Sellers, O. R., 1933: The Citadel of Beth-Zur. Philadelphia. Sethe, K. (ed.), 1907: Urkunden der 18 Dynastie. Urkunden des ägyptischen Altertums IV. Simpson, W. K., 2003: The Literature of Ancient Egypt: An Anthology of Stories, Instructions, Stelae, Autobiographies, and Poetry (3rd edition). New Haven. Stager, L. E., 1985: Merenptah, Israel and Sea Peoples: New Light on an Old Relief. EI 18, 56*–64*. ― 2008: Tel Ashkelon. In E. Stern (ed.): The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land (2nd English edition). Jerusalem. Pp. 1578–1586. Stern, E., 1984: Excavations at Tel Mevorakh (1973–1976), Pt. 2: The Bronze Age. Jerusalem. Sugerman, M. 2009: Trade and Power in Late Bronze Age Canaan. In J. D. Schloen (ed.): Exploring the Longue Durée: Essays in Honor of Lawrence E. Stager. Winona Lake. Pp. 439–448. Tufnell, O., 1958: Lachish IV (Tell ed-Duweir): The Bronze Age. The WellcomeMarston Archaeological Research Expedition to the Near East (Vol. IV). London. Tufnell, O. / Kempinski, A., 1993: ‘Ajjul, Tell el-. In E. Stern (ed.) The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land (2nd English edition). Jerusalem. Pp. 49–53. Urk. = Urkunden des ägyptischen Altertums IV (Sethe 1907) Ussishkin, D. 1993a: Dothan. In E. Stern (ed.): The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land (2nd English edition). Jerusalem. Pp. 372– 373.

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― 1993b: Lachish. In E. Stern (ed.): The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land (2nd English edition). Jerusalem. Pp. 897–911. ― 2004: Area P: The Middle Bronze Age Palace. In D. Ussishkin (ed.): The Renewed Archaeological Excavations at Lachish (1973–1994). Tel Aviv. Pp. 140– 187. Vieweger, D. / Jutta Häser, J., 2005: Der Tell Zera‘a im Wadi el-‘Arab: Das Gadara Region Project in den Jahren 2001 bis 2004. ZDPV 121(1), 1–30, Tafel 31–33. ― 2007: Tall Zira‘a: Five Thousand Years of Palestinian History on a Single-Settlement Mound. NEA 70(3), 147–167. Watkins, L., 1997: Shiloh. In E. M. Meyers (ed.): The Oxford Encyclopedia of Archaeology in the Near East (vol. 5). New York. Pp. 28–29. Weinstein, J. M., 1975: Egyptian Relations with Palestine in the Middle Kingdom. BASOR 217, 1–16. ― 1981: The Egyptian Empire in Palestine: A Reassessment. BASOR 241, 1–28. ― 1991: Egypt and the Middle Bronze IIC/Late Bronze IA Transition in Palestine. Levant 23, 105–115. Wimmer, D. H., 1997: Safut, Tell. In E. M. Meyers (ed.): The Oxford Encyclopedia of Archaeology in the Near East (vol. 4). New York. Pp. 448–450. Yisraeli, Y., 1993: Far‘ah, Tell el- (South). In E. Stern (ed.): The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land (2nd English edition). Jerusalem. Pp. 441–444.

The Hittites at War Trevor R. Bryce

The Historical Background1 At the peak of its political and military development in the 14th and 13th centuries B.C.E., the Land of Hatti in north-central Anatolia was the core region of an empire which stretched from the Aegean coast in the west to the western fringes of Mesopotamia in the east, and southwards to the region of Damascus in Syria. This empire is commonly referred to as the kingdom of the Hittites.2 The name ‘Hittite’ has been adopted by scholars in modern times from its use in biblical sources, where it refers to various lands and tribal groups occupying Iron Age Syria and Palestine. The ‘Hittites’, so called, never identified themselves by means of a single ethnic term. They were made up of a number of ethnic groups speaking a range of languages, and simply identified themselves as the people of the Land of Hatti. This name in its most specific sense referred to the kingdom’s homeland region, which was roughly defined by the river now called the Kızıl Irmak. The Hittites called it the Marassantiya. In Classical sources, it is known as the Halys. The name ‘Hatti’ may well have been used of this region for many centuries, even millennia, before the Hittite state began to evolve in the early 17th century. It reflects earlier occupation of the region by an indigenous group called the Hattians. The genesis of the Hittite kingdom is associated with one of three Indo-European groups who, most scholars believe, migrated into Anatolia from regions north of the Black Sea during the course of the 3rd millennium. They were speakers of related languages called Palaic, Luwian, and Nesite. Palaic speakers settled in the region immediately south of the Black Sea called Pala in Hittite sources, corresponding roughly to Paphlagonia in Classical texts. Luwian speakers occupied large areas of southern and western Anatolia. The speakers of the Nesite language, now commonly called Hittite, appear to have settled initially to the south and southeast of the Kızıl Irmak r., in the region of the Anti-Taurus range. It was probably here that a city called Kussara was located, later to figure in Hittite history as the ancestral seat of the Hittite royal dynasty. From Kussara, a Middle Bronze Age king called Pithana re-established the seat of his power in the city of Nesa/Kanesh, just south of the Kızıl Irmak and headquarters of the Assyrian colony network. Henceforth, Nesa became the base for military operations conducted by Pithana and his son and successor 1

The dates used in this article follow the Hittite regnal chronology suggested by Bryce 2005, xv. 2 For comprehensive accounts of Hittite history, see Klengel 1999 and Bryce 2005.

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Anitta against the kingdoms lying both north and south of the river.3 Anitta’s successes in the field of battle resulted in the establishment of the first Anatolian ‘empire’, a Middle Bronze Age forerunner to the kingdom of the Hittites, and covering a large part of central-eastern Anatolia. The empire was short-lived. Following its collapse, perhaps already in Anitta’s lifetime, many decades were to pass before an embryonic kingdom of the Hittites began to emerge. The intervening years were marked, apparently, by conflict and the breakdown of authority in many areas of Anatolia, and the termination of Assyrian trading activities in the region. But little is known of this period, for which we have no written records, and almost no archaeological evidence. In the early 17th century, the Anatolian world appears to have been made up of numerous small states and kingdoms, often in conflict with one another, with their very survival at stake. Amongst these was a land ruled by a king called Labarna, according to Hittite tradition. An account of Labarna’s reign given by a later king, Telipinu, refers to the king’s success in uniting his people under his command for a series of military enterprises which led to conquests of the region stretching southwards from the Marassantiya r. to the Mediterranean Sea.4 The conquered lands were now incorporated into Labarna’s rapidly expanding kingdom, and were administered by the king’s sons who were sent to govern them. This Labarna is the the first clearly attested member of a Hittite royal dynasty which lasted, with only a few interruptions, throughout the entire period of Late Bronze Age Hittite history, from the 17th to the early 12th century B.C.E. He was apparently succeeded by his grandson Hattusili I, who was almost certainly responsible for relocating the kingdom’s capital on the site of a city called Hattus, seat of the Middle Bronze Age kingdom of Hatti, and destroyed and declared accursed by Anitta. The rebuilt city, Hattusa, became the capital of the fledgling kingdom of the Hittites, and remained the kingdom’s capital (except for a very brief interlude in the early 13th century) until its destruction ca. 1183. The original Hittite capital was very likely located at Kussara, where Pithana had once ruled, and Kussara continued to be revered as the ancestral home of the Hittite royal dynasty. It is quite possible that this dynasty had family links with the dynasty established by Pithana. We know at least that both were of Indo-European origin, and that Nesite, the language named after Pithana’s new capital Nesa, became the official chancellery language of the Hittite kingdom throughout its history. By the end of the 14th century, the kings of Hatti held sway over a large array of subject states, stretching far to the west, southwest, south, east, and southeast of the Hittite homeland. The name ‘Hatti’ was regularly used as a general term to designate the entire region over which the Hittite king ruled as well the homeland of the Hittites within the Marassantiya r. basin. The king of Hatti was a member of an exclusive ‘club’ of Great Kings of the Near Eastern world. They alone were entitled to call themselves Great Kings, and they acknowledged their peers’ status by addressing them as ‘My Brother’. The other members of the club included the kings of Egypt, Babylon, and Mitanni; the last of these was replaced by the king of Assyria in the second half of the 14th century after the Hittite destruction of the Mitannian empire. 3 4

Chavalas 2006, 216–219. Chavalas 2006, 229–230.

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For the most part, Hittite subject territories were ruled by local vassals who were bound by oaths of loyalty to their Hittite overlord and concluded treaties with him.5 A number of specific obligations were imposed upon the vassal ruler, particularly military obligations, and the Hittite king promised in his turn to fulfil certain obligations to the vassal, including support for his righful heirs to the throne. Otherwise, the vassal was allowed a high degree of autonomy in the administration of his kingdom. On occasions, a Hittite governor was assigned to certain regions of the kingdom, particularly those that were located in sensitive frontier regions. But such appointments were comparatively rare. The only other instances of direct Hittite rule outside the homeland were the viceregal kingdoms established at Carchemish on the Euphrates r. and Aleppo in northern Syria (and the quasi viceregal kingdom of Tahuntassa on Anatolia’s southern coast). The viceroys were invariably sons of the king or other close members of his family. This was the basic framework of the Hittite kingdom. But for much of its history, the kingdom’s power-structure was a fragile one. Geographical factors were partly responsible for this. The kingdom’s core territory, lying within the basin of the Marassantiya river, was entirely landlocked, and had no natural frontiers against enemy incursions. The easily fordable river was crossed many times by enemy forces. On the most critical of these occasions, the homeland suffered attacks across all its frontiers, in what is now commonly referred to as the ‘concentric invasions’. These took place during the first half of the 14th century, in the reign of Tudhaliya III: In earlier days the Hatti lands were sacked by its enemies. The Kaskan enemy came and sacked the Hatti lands and he made Nenassa his frontier. From the Lower Land came the Arzawan enemy, and he too sacked the Hatti lands, and he made Tuwanuwa and Uda his frontier. From afar, the Arawannan enemy came and sacked the whole of the Land of Gassiya. From afar, the Azzian enemy came and sacked all the Upper Lands and he made Samuha his frontier. The Isuwan enemy came and sacked the Land of Tegarama. From afar, the Armatanan enemy came, and he too sacked the Hatti lands. And he made Kizzuwadna, the city, his frontier. And Hattusa, the city, was burned down.6 There was at least one earlier occasion when the homeland territory was invaded and sacked. This was during the reign of the 16th century king Hantili I when Hurrians from the southeast (see below) invaded and plundered the homeland. They were, however, driven out before they managed to capture the capital Hattusa―a matter of good fortune for the Hittites since at that time Hattusa had little in the way of fortifications. Its citadel, occupied by the royal palace, was located on a large outcrop of rock, now known as Büyukkale. Though virtually impregnable on its naturally steep northern and eastern sides, the citadel was vulnerable from the south and the west, where its surface sloped more gently downwards. Here substantial built-up defences were required to provide adequate protection against enemy attack. But it was apparently not until the reign of a second king called Hantili, in the 15th century, that the city was first fully fortified, with a wall 8 metres thick. This, the first of a series of 5 6

Beckman 1999, 11–124. After Goetze 1940, 21–22.

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fortifications of the capital, contained a number of features of later Hittite fortification architecture, including postern gates and corbelled tunnels through the walls. It none the less failed to protect the capital from capture and destruction during Tudhaliya III’s reign. The Enemies of the Kingdom Among the enemies who threatened the security of the Hittite kingdom, and on occasions its very survival, the most constant were the Kaska peoples, tribal groups who occupied the mountainous Pontic region to the north of the homeland. They frequently crossed Hatti’s frontiers, plundering the towns, farmlands, and grazing lands in the northern homeland region. Kaska groups sometimes settled in the plundered territories as the local populations fled south before them. Thus in the reign of Hantili II, they occupied the Hittite holy city Nerik (= the site of Oymaagaç?). This was one of the Hittites’ most revered sacred centres. It was not fully restored to their control until the reign of Urhi-Teshub (1272–1267), two centuries later.7 To the southeast of the homeland lay the Hurrian principalities. The Hurrians were a large group of peoples, of uncertain origin, who from the late 3rd millennium onwards began to spread through northern Mesopotamia, northern Syria, and eastern Anatolia. They are first attested in Hittite texts in the reign of Hattusili I (1650– 1620), who was forced to cut short a campaign into western Anatolia, because of a Hurrian invasion of his homeland.8 Hattusili’s grandson and successor Mursili I was attacked by Hurrian troops as he returned home from his conquest of Babylon ca. 1595.9 And as we have noted, Hurrians subsequently plundered the Hittite homeland in Hantili I’s reign. The westward spread of Hurrian population groups into eastern Anatolia was no doubt the genesis of the bitter conflicts between Hittites and Hurrians in the region, as the Hittites progressively sought to expand their territorial holdings eastwards. These conflicts became more concentrated in the 16th century when a number of small Hurrian states were amalgamated into a single political entity called the kingdom of Mitanni. Hatti and Mitanni frequently clashed over the states and petty kingdoms of northern Syria as well as over those of eastern Anatolia. Already in the reign of Hattusili I, the Hittites embarked on the first of a series of campaigns against the states in the region, which were at that time subject or allied to the Amorite kingdom called Yamhad. By the beginning of the 18th century, Yamhad had replaced Ebla as the dominant power in the region, exercising sovereignty over a number of cities and petty kingdoms between the Euphrates and Orontes rivers. The destruction of Yamhad’s royal capital Aleppo by Mursili I10 brought to an end the kingdom of Yamhad which had apparently already been seriously weakened by Hattusili’s constant campaigns against it (though he never succeeded in capturing Aleppo). Mitanni rapidly sought to extend its control over Yamhad’s former subjectstates, but its ambitions were held in check both by Hittite and Egyptian interests and enterprises in the region. 7

CS I, 202. Chavalas 2006, 220. 9 Chavalas 2006, 230; see Bryce 2005, 416, n. 10. 10 Chavalas 2006, 230. 8

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Within the Anatolian region, the countries lying to the west and southwest of the homeland were seen by the Hittites as a serious threat to the security of their kingdom. The first of the ‘New Kingdom’ rulers, Tudhaliya I/II,11 conducted at least four campaigns against a number of these countries.12 Though individually none could match the military might of Hatti, the coalitions which they formed could, if left unchecked, seriously imperil the stability of Hatti’s southwestern territories. Among the most notable of these coalitions was one consisting of twenty-two countries, spread probably through the western Anatolian coastal regions and generally referred to as the Assuwan Confederacy. Tudhaliya claimed decisive victories in all his western campaigns. But the resources that had to be committed to them left Hatti inadequately defended and vulnerable to attack by enemies advancing upon it from other regions, notably the Kaskan peoples from the north and the Hurrians from the southeast. As illustrated by Tudhaliya’s own statement: Now while I, Tudhaliya, the Great King, was fighting in the Land of Assuwa, behind my back Kaskan troops took up arms, and they came into the Land of Hatti, and devastated the country.13 The most prominent of the western states was a group known as the Arzawa Lands. On a number of occasions, one or more of these lands participated in anti-Hittite military confederacies. Though the name Arzawa is applied to them collectively in Hittite texts, they had probably developed as separate political entities by the 16th century, some time after the region had been settled by Luwian-speaking population groups. The state commonly referred to by scholars as Arzawa ‘Minor’ was perhaps the original nucleus of the Arzawa Lands. Its capital was Apasa, forerunner of Classical Ephesus. Arzawa Minor may well have led the Arzawan invasion which penetrated deep into Hittite subject territory south and southwest of the homeland during the ‘concentric invasions’ of Hatti in Tudhaliya III’s reign. Diplomatic overtures were made at this time by Amenhotep III, pharaoh of Egypt, to an Arzawan king Tarhundaradu, offering him a marriage alliance, no doubt in the expectation that Arzawa was about to replace Hatti as the superpower of the Anatolian region.14 Tarhundaradu may well have been king of Arzawa ‘Minor’. Though the Arzawan forces were eventually driven out of Hatti’s territory, Arzawa Minor continued to pose a major threat to Hittite authority in western Anatolia, until it was eventually conquered and dismantled by the Hittite king Mursili II c. 1319.15 Other states referred to in Hittite texts as Arzawa lands include Wilusa, Seha River Land, Mira, and Hapalla. We shall have more to say about their relationship with Hatti below. The Military Command Structure In view of the many forces that brought the kingdom of Hatti close to destruction at a number of critical periods in its history, it may seem remarkable that the kingdom

11

It is uncertain whether there were one or two early New Kingdom rulers of this name. Garstang / Gurney 1959, 120–123; see Bryce 2005, 123–127. 13 Garstang / Gurney 1959, 122. 14 EA 31; Moran 1992, 101. 15 See Heinhold-Krahmer 1977, 136–147. 12

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managed not merely to survive for half a millennium, throughout the Late Bronze Age, but that within this period it became for a time the greatest political and military power of the Near Eastern world. There is no doubt that this was due in large measure to the effectiveness of its military forces, and the leadership with which they were provided. At the head of the command structure was the king himself. Kingship was hereditary, generally bestowed by the throne’s incumbent upon one of his sons. But each new successor to the throne was expected to demonstrate his fitness to rule by his prowess on the field of battle. His military training began at an early age, and in some instances he had his first experience of battle while still a child. Thus the future king Tudhaliya IV was probably no more than twelve when his father credited him with a significant military victory during a campaign in the Kaska region.16 The military command bestowed upon him by his father Hattusili III at this age may have been no more than token. But it provided him with perhaps his first blooding in battle and would lay important foundations for establishing his reputation as a great warrior in the years prior to his accession. The dangers faced by a new king on ascending the throne without already having acquired the respect of both the kingdom’s subjects and its enemies as a proven warrior is made clear by the crisis facing the new king Mursili II, who had unexpectedly inherited the kingship after the sudden death of his brother Arnuwanda. The latter had long been prepared for the succession by his father Suppiluliuma, and at the time of his accession already had a number of military victories to his credit. His premature demise after only a few months on the throne plunged the kingdom into crisis, as enemy states and rebel subject states rose up against the new king. Mursili reports the reaction to his accession in his Annals: When my brother Arnuwanda became a god, the enemy lands who had not yet made war, these enemy lands also made war. And the neighbouring enemy lands spoke as follows: ‘His father, who was king of the Land of Hatti and a Hero-King, held sway over the enemy lands. And he became a god. But his son who sat upon his father’s throne and was previously a great warrior fell ill, and he also became a god. Yet he who has recently sat upon his father’s throne is a child. He will not preserve the Land of Hatti and the territory of the Hatti lands’.17 You are a child; you know nothing and instil no fear in me. Your land is now in ruins, and your infantry and chariotry are few. Against your infantry, I have many infantry; against your chariotry I have many chariotry. Your father had many infantry and chariotry. But you, who are a child, how can you match him?18 In a series of military campaigns conducted in the early years of his reign, Mursili regained control over his subject territories and subdued many enemy states. In the process, he established a reputation as a warrior almost equal to that of his father Suppiluliuma. Hittite kings were expected to maintain an active role in their king16

See Bryce 2005, 296. Ten-Year Annals, AM 16–21. 18 Comprehensive Annals, AM 18–21. 17

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dom’s military enterprises throughout their career, emulating the achievements of their most illustrious predecessors and if possible surpassing them. Of course, the king had other major roles to play in the kingdom. His responsibilities as chief priest of his realm required his participation in numerous religious festivals and pilgrimages to the kingdom’s holy centres, and as the supreme justice of the Hittite state, he presided over many legal disputes between his subjects―all of whom had a right of direct appeal to the king. But while they had many non-military responsibilities to attend to, most Hittite kings seem to have spent part of almost every year of their reign on campaign, in rebel subject territories or against enemy lands. Success in as many of these campaigns as possible was essential to the king’s standing and the support of his people. Victories on the field of battle were not only important for the security of the kingdom, but could also be very profitable in terms of the spoils of conquest. Plunder of a conquered city or kingdom was the inevitable aftermath of victory. In addition to the cartloads of plunder which enriched the palace-coffers and the temples of the homeland, large numbers of livestock and booty-people were transported back to Hatti from the conquered lands. The king’s officers could expect a substantial share of the booty, which they used for restocking their agricultural estates, often received as a grant from the king for services rendered or promised. The cattle, sheep, and personnel which were a significant component of the rewards of conquest must have played a major role in maintaining the productivity of the Hittites’ farming and grazing lands. This serves to illustrate what was almost certainly one of the most serious chronic problems with which the Hittites were faced. Shortage of manpower. We shall return to this below in discussing the sources of recruitment for the Hittite army. Though the king regularly led military campaigns in person, there were occasions when command of the army had to be delegated. This could happen if Hittite armies were involved in separate campaigns in different regions, or if a king were indisposed at the time of a campaign or was obliged to attend to other affairs of state. Certain religious festivals required the presence of the king himself (not a representative acting on his behalf), who might interrupt a campaign to attend to them.19 The most important military commands were assigned by the king in his absence to members of his family, most often one of his sons or brothers. Sometimes a deputy was given command of a division within the army whose overall command remained with the king. Thus the prince Hattusili (later King Hattusili III) led a division in the battle of Qadesh (see below) under the overall command of his brother, the reigning king Muwattalli II. But often a high-ranking deputy was given total command of an army, as illustrated by Suppiluliuma’s appointment of his sons Arnuwanda (the crown prince) and Sharri-Kushuh (viceroy at Carchemish) to independent commands in the Syrian region. Smaller expeditionary forces were generally placed under the command of appointees who were of sub-royal status, but none the less selected by the king. Such a force led by two men, Gulla and Malaziti, was dispatched to the west by Mursili II in this third regnal year (c. 1319) to destroy the land of Millawanda/Milawata (Classical Miletus) on the Aegean coast―retaliatory action against

19

See e.g. Goetze 1940, 9–10.

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Millawanda for breaking its allegiance to Hatti.20 Even when not leading a military operation in person, the king was likely to monitor his appointee’s performance closely, via messengers and dispatches, and where necessary to instruct him on the conduct of the operation. Thus Mursili II had assigned command of a military enterprise in the Hittite region called the Upper Land to an experienced officer called Nuwanza. Nuwanza had been commissioned to drive out enemy forces who were occupying the land. But when he reported a delay in operations because he wanted to consult the augurs and soothsayers first, Mursili responded promptly, informing Nuwanza that he had taken the omens himself, and ordering him to proceed forthwith.21 Those upon whom the king bestowed military command were obliged to keep the king directly and regularly informed of all their actions, and could be severely disciplined for negligence or incompetence (see below). The king took a particularly close interest in the affairs of the frontier regions, whose defence was vitally important to the security of the kingdom as a whole. As we have noted, enemy forces crossed the frontiers of the homeland at every opportunity. Military garrisons, generally used sparingly in the subject lands, were regularly stationed in frontier territories which were considered vulnerable to enemy incursions, like the regions called the Upper and Lower Lands and the border zone in Syria between Hittite- and Egyptian-controlled territory. Tablets found in the Hittite city Tapikka (mod. Maşat), an administrative centre and military outpost in the homeland’s northern frontier region, record numerous dispatches between the Hittite king Tudhaliya III and local officials, including the region’s military commander Kassu.22 Many of the dispatches deal with matters of security and defence and enemy movements in the area. The king’s role is very much a ‘hands-on’ one. In response to a request from Kassu for reinforcements, he writes: ‘Regarding what you have written to me on the matter of the chariots, note this: I have now sent forth the chariots. Look out for them’.23 The king also demanded regular reports on enemy movements (a number of Hittites were sent to the region as scouts or spies), and issued instructions on such matters as the relocation of populations in territories threatened by the enemy, and the treatment of defectors and enemy prisoners who had surrendered or been taken in battle. Beneath the level of the military commanders there was a hierarchy of officers, which included, in descending order of importance ‘overseers of military heralds’, ‘dignitaries’, and ‘gentlemen’. It is difficult to equate these titles to those used in modern military terminology, though the ‘dignitaries’ category seems to have covered ranks ranging from captain to sergeant. The importance of the official in each case was determined by the number of men he led. At the lower levels, the number of men assigned to a particular officer seems to have ranged from one hundred to ten.24

20

AM 36–37. AM 116–119. 22 Alp 1991. 23 Bryce 2003, 172. 24 For more detailed information on Hittite military officers, see Beal 1992, 297–520. 21

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The Composition of the Hittite Army A Hittite army was made up predominantly of infantry forces, complemented by a much smaller chariot contingent. About ninety per cent of the total force consisted of infantry. We have no evidence that cavalry played any part in Hittite military operations, though horsemen were almost certainly used for reconnaissance or as dispatch riders. The core of the defence force was a professional standing army, for whose members soldiering in one form or another was a full-time career. The campaigning season was confined generally to the period from spring to mid-autumn, and when not on campaign, the troops were housed in barracks, located mainly in the Hittite capital and in frontier regions. They were fed and sheltered by the state throughout the year, and during the ‘off seasons’ were employed on various public works projects, such as bridge-building, the construction of royal residences, and the fortification of Hittite cities. They also performed peace-keeping duties, taking action to suppress any local uprisings in the regions where they were located, and engaged in surveillance activities. An elite group provided escort and bodyguard services for the king and other members of his family, particularly on occasions of religious festivals and pilgrimages. A large part of the standing army was probably made up of volunteers from within the homeland. But troops for full-time military service had also to be supplied by the subject territories―unless, as in a few cases, the territories were granted royal exemption from this obligation.25 It was the responsibility of the regional authorities to select the recruits to be sent to Hattusa to begin their careers as professional soldiers. The only known conditions stipulated by the king were that slaves were ineligible, and that once a man was selected he could not bribe someone else to take his place. No doubt in the interests of morale, recruits from a particular district were quartered in the same barracks, and their immediate officers apparently also came from their district. A large number of recruits for the standing army were very likely drawn from the thousands of ‘booty-people’ transported from their homelands in the wake of Hittite conquests. Many of the transportees were allocated by the king to his land-owning officers. Others were employed as temple servants, others were sent to build up the population of frontier regions, and others again were pressed into service in the king’s militia. The transportation system became one of the chief sources of supply for the homeland’s agricultural workforce as well as the ranks of the army. Of course, there were risks involved in pressing into service conscripts from conquered countries, in the expectation that they would henceforth be loyal to their conqueror. Tudhaliya I/II records a rebellion in which 10,000 infantry and 600 chariotry brought back to Hattusa as prisoners, no doubt for service in the Hittite army, rose up against him.26 This happened in the aftermath of one of his western campaigns. Though the uprising was promptly put down, it may well have led to the implementation of stricter measures for the control of transported populations, once they had reached the homeland as well as on their way to it. But undoubtedly, able-bodied transportees continued to play an important, perhaps essential, role in filling the ranks of the 25 This was, for example, a special privilege accorded to Tarhuntassa, an appanage kingdom of the Hittite empire located in southern Anatolia; see Beckman 1999, 111 §6. 26 Garstang / Gurney 1959, 122.

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Hittite army, as well as performing the other roles to which they were assigned. In the 13th century, Hattusili III recruited for his army Kaska tribesmen who had settled peacefully in Hittite territory. Hattusili knew from direct experience of the fighting qualities of these people, and apparently welcomed the opportunity to harness these qualities for his own forces. But the Kaskan recruits were closely supervised, and had strict limitations imposed on their movements―including a ban on their entering a certain city in the territory where they were quartered.27 We cannot estimate with any degree of precision the size of the standing army. Probably at the empire’s peak in the 14th and 13th centuries, it numbered some tens of thousands of troops.28 The only specific figures we are given for a Hittite army come from Egyptian records. Beal claims that if we accept the numbers provided by Ramesses II, the Hittite fighting force at Qadesh would have totalled 47,500, including 3,500 chariotry and 37,000 infantry.29 Egyptian kings were not alone in inflating enemy numbers in their records, to enhance their achievements in the field of battle. But Ramesses’ figures may not be exaggerated. We know that his Hittite opponent Muwattalli II drew heavily on the military resources of his entire kingdom for his confrontation with him. It was probably the biggest Hittite force assembled for a single campaign. Almost certainly too, Muwattalli swelled his ranks with an unknown number of mercenary troops, reflecting Ramesses’ claim that he ‘left no silver in his land, he stripped it of all its possessions and gave them to all the foreign countries in order to bring them with him to fight’.30 This, incidentally, is the only clear reference we have to the Hittites’ alleged use of mercenary troops―none of the Hittite texts refer to the employment of mercenaries―and Hittite kings may well have hired them only in exceptional circumstances. Whenever necessary, the standing army was boosted by temporary levies from the subject states. Vassal rulers were obliged by treaty to provide their overlord with troops, particularly if he or one of his deputies was conducting a campaign in the vassal’s region. The army’s numbers were further boosted by civilians within the homeland who were drafted into military service as and when the need arose―for example, for a major campaign like Qadesh, or on occasions when the Hittites were obliged to deploy forces for simultaneous campaigns in two or more regions. There was also a category of part-time troops which we might call ‘reservists’. In Hittite, the term LÚ GIŠTUKUL, which literally means ‘Man of the Weapon’, was probably first applied to such part-time soldiers.31 They may have been called up fairly frequently during the campaigning season, and probably received regular training, making them more effective and reliable than the civilian draftees. They were given land suitable for farming or grazing as payment for their services, and no doubt spent much of the year there with their families, except for the periods when they were required for military service. The king thus had at his disposal, in the reservists, a supplementary military force that could be readily assembled, was probably well trained, and was less of an ongoing drain on resources than the standing army since 27

Von Schuler 1965, 145–148. For a detailed discussion, see Beal 1992, 277–296. 29 Beal 1992, 291–292. 30 Gardiner 1960, 8. 31 See Beal 1992, 55–56. 28

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the king was spared the expense of feeding and housing them through the entire year. The chariot contingent provided the elite corps in the Hittite army. Chariots appear to have been introduced into Anatolia, probably from the Hurrian world, by the early 16th century. They were regularly used in battle in many parts of the Near East, and if we can rely on the accuracy of Hittite sources, even small states at war with the Hittites were often equipped with a substantial chariot contingent. Hattusili III records that one of the northern Anatolian rulers sent no fewer than 800 chariots into battle against him. We have noted that the Hittite chariot contingent at Qadesh allegedly numbered 3,500. This amounted to less than ten per cent of the entire Hittite army on that occasion. The great bulk of Hittite armies or expeditionary forces consisted of infantry, whose weaponry included short stabbing sword, battle-axe, and spear. But it may well be that success in battle depended largely on the initial chariot charge, designed to smash the enemy front and prepare the way for an infantry attack. Like its Egyptian counterpart, the Hittite chariot, consisting of a wooden frame with leather covering, mounted on a wide axle with six-spoked wooden wheels, originally had a two-man crew―a driver and a fighter. By the time of Qadesh, however, the Hittite crew had been increased to three―a driver, a fighter, and a defender, to judge from a depiction of Hittite chariots in the battle on the exterior wall of Ramesses’ temple at Abydos. The fighter was armed with bow and arrow, and long spear. He could thus focus his attention on attacking the enemy, while both he and his driver were defended by the third crew-member who was equipped with a light neck-to-knee length shield consisting of leather stretched over a wooden frame. We do not know how effective the Hittites’ three-man chariot was in the field of battle. An essential part of the chariot’s performance was its speed and manoeuvrability. Both must have been compromised by the addition of a third man to the chariot crew, despite the theoretical advantage this gave the Hittite chariotry over their enemy counterparts. But no information survives from ancient sources to indicate the success or failure of this innovation in battle technology. Or indeed whether the Hittites persisted with it after Qadesh. In Conflict with the Enemy The warfare in which the Hittites engaged throughout their history was almost always conducted against tribal peoples like the Kaskans, small kingdoms or states which sometimes formed pro tem anti-Hittite coalitions, and their own rebellious subject states. Though tensions often ran high between Hittite kings and the rulers of other Great Kingdoms, it was only on rare occasions that these tensions erupted into open war. The most protracted of the Hittites’ conflicts with another Great Kingdom was their longlasting struggle with the Hurrian kingdom of Mitanni. Already before the formation of the Mitannian state, by the end of the 16th century, there were frequent clashes between Hittite and Hurrian forces in northern Syria and eastern Anatolia. Competing territorial interests in these regions were at the heart of the conflicts. During the reign of the Hittite king Suppiluliuma I (ca. 1350–1322), a series of engagements between Hittite and Mitannian forces resulted eventually in the defeat of the Mitannian king Tushratta and the dismemberment of his empire. Much of the empire, particularly the kingdoms in northern Syria formerly subject to Mitanni, now came under Hittite control. That led to an increase in tensions with Egypt,

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whose frontier in the region of Damascus now bordered upon Hittite territory. In particular, disputed possession over two Syrian coastal kingdoms lying further to the north, Amurru and Qadesh, provoked two major military showdowns between Egypt and Hatti near Qadesh. The first, in which the protagonists were the Hittite king Muwattalli II and the pharaoh Seti I (1294–1279), resulted in an Egyptian victory, according to Seti’s record, and the consolidation of Egyptian sovereignty over the disputed territories. But Muwattalli refused to abandon Hittite claims upon these territories. A few years later, in 1274, Muwattalli engaged in a second conflict with Egyptian forces at Qadesh. On this occasion, he was confronted by Seti’s son and successor Ramesses II. We have only Ramesses’ version of the battle, along with his account of the progress of his four divisions through western Syria towards the battle-site. Records of the campaign are preserved in words and captioned pictures on the walls of five Egyptian temples.32 From these it is clear that lack of reconnaissance and poor coordination of the Egyptian army’s northward advance almost spelt disaster for the pharaoh, when the first two divisions, Amun, led personally by Ramesses, and Re, were suddenly attacked by the Hittite forces from a concealed position behind the city of Qadesh. Ramesses had been deceived by two bedouins, sent by Muwattalli to spy out Ramesses’ position, into believing that the entire Hittite army was many miles to the north in the land of Aleppo. To judge from Ramesses’ account, Muwattalli’s chariotry swept through the Egyptian ranks and surrounded the pharaoh and his immediate troops in an ever-tightening circle. It may well be that the pharaoh’s courage and skill at the critical moment did help avert a total rout of his forces―even allowing for the rhetoric of his inscriptions which claims that his counterattack upon the Hittite forces resulted in his winning the battle singlehandedly. A breakdown in discipline among elements of the Hittite forces, who set about plundering the Egyptian encampment before the Hittite victory was complete, and the timely arrival of reinforcements for the beleaguered Egyptian divisions from the Syrian state Amurru, as depicted in the relief sculptures of the battle, should probably be given most of the credit for saving Ramesses and his army from total defeat. The battle in fact ended in a stalemate. In later years, both sides claimed victory. But Ramesses failed to regain the subject territories in dispute with Hatti―Amurru and Qadesh henceforth became Hittite subject states―and in the aftermath of the battle, the Egyptian forces withdrew south to the region of Damascus. For a short time, this region came under Hittite occupation. But it was later tacitly acknowledged as Egyptian territory, within the frontier zone between the subject states of Egypt and Hatti. Fifteen years later, a treaty was drawn up between Ramesses and the current Hittite king Hattusili III, brother and second successor of Muwattalli.33 Commonly referred to as the ‘Eternal Treaty’, it is one of the most famous of all ancient treaties. A translation can today be seen at the entrance to the Security Council Chamber in the United Nations in New York. Communications between the Hittite and Egyptian kings in the lead-up to the treaty are preserved in a number of letters that passed

32 33

Gardiner 1960. Edel 1997; Beckman 1999, 96–100.

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between the royal courts.34 The exchanges are sometimes acrimonious, and it is clear that pragmatic rather than ideological considerations provided the chief motives for concluding a peace agreement. Hattusili, who had seized the Hittite throne in a coup from his nephew Urhi-Teshub, son of Muwattalli, had experienced a number of difficulties in gaining recognition as Hatti’s rightful king, from both his own subjects and his foreign peers.35 A treaty concluded with Ramesses would provide Hattusili with clear endorsement for his position on the Hittite throne, from the most senior of all the Great Kings. Ramesses, on the other hand, could represent the treaty as a personal diplomatic triumph, depicting his treaty-partner as abjectly suing for peace. It would bolster his claim that he had been the victor at Qadesh. And from a practical point of view, an agreement with Hatti would help strengthen his hold over Egypt’s subject territories in sourthern Syria, and most importantly the Syro-Palestininian coastal territories under Egyptian control which ensured Egypt’s continuing access to cities along the Levantine coast. Another important consideration is the heavy casualties undoubtedly suffered by both sides in the Qadesh campaign. Ramesses recorded, on the walls of his temple the Ramesseum, a long list of Hittite officers slain in the conflict, with some of the names also appearing in his temples at Abydos and Abu Simbel. Egyptian casualties may have been equally heavy, or heavier. The draining of manpower for which this conflict was responsible may well have seriously impacted on the military resources of both kingdoms for some time to come. And both sides were no doubt concerned to avoid conflict on a similar scale in the future. There was also the looming threat posed by an increasingly aggressive Assyrian kingdom across the Euphrates. A number of scholars believe that the ‘Assyrian factor’ provided an important catalyst in the conclusion of a peace between the kings of Hatti and Egypt. Hattusili’s concerns about his increasingly powerful eastern neighbour may have provided incentive enough for establishing a formal alliance with Ramesses, who would be bound by the alliance’s terms to come to Hatti’s assistance if Assyria invaded Hittite territory. Egypt was less directly threatened by Assyria. But it may also have have had concerns about the upstart kingdom’s rapid development and expansion. Should Assyria succeed in extending its conquests to the coast of northern Syria, its next objective could well be the lands and cities lying further to the south which belonged to Egypt. A Hittite-Egyptian military alliance would act, in theory at least, as a deterrent against Assyrian military enterprises in Syria and Palestine. For if Assyria did launch an invasion across the Euphrates, its army faced the prospect of waging war on two fronts with the forces of two Great Kings―one coming from the north, the other from the south. Assyria had declined into insignificance following the reign of Shamshi-Adad I (ca. 1796–1775), ruler of the Old Assyrian kingdom, and had subsequently become a subject state of Mitanni. But it had re-emerged as a major power after the Hittite destruction of Mitanni, rapidly filling the power vacuum in northern Mesopotamia left by Mitanni’s collapse. As it expanded, it began incorporating within its borders former Mitannian territories east of the Euphrates which had become subject to 34

Edel 1994. Urhi-Teshub was still at large and had actually taken refuge in Egypt after fleeing the place of exile assigned to him. 35

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Hatti. In what was probably a case of Realpolitik, Hattusili seems not to have seriously challenged Assyria’s subjection of these territories, despite anti-Assyrian action in the region particularly by the rulers of Hanigalbat, the rump state left after the dismemberment of Mitanni and at that time allied to Hatti. Hattusili was intent on establishing good relations with his Assyrian counterpart Adad-nirari I,36 no doubt in the hope that the latter would not seek to expand his territories west of the Euphrates. For there lay Hittite territories which were essential components of the Hittite empire, including the viceregal kingdom of Carchemish on the Euphrates’ west bank. The tensions and increasing conflicts between Assyria and its southern neighbour Babylon no doubt offered the Hittites some hope that Assyria’s hostilities with Babylon would deter it from committing its military resources to enterprises in Hittite territory west of the Euphrates. But concerns about possible Assyrian aggression persisted. Finally, Hattusili’s son and successor Tudhaliya IV (ca. 1237–1209) took pre-emptive action against the Assyrian king Tukulti-Ninurta I, by forming an alliance with the rulers of the land of Nihriya in northern Mesopotamia and fortifying the land against the Assyrians. Tukulti-Ninurta sent him an ultimatum, demanding that he withdraw his troops from Nihriya. When Tudhaliya refused, the scene was set for military confrontation. According to Tukulti-Ninurta’s version of events, in a letter written to the king of Ugarit, the Assyrians won a decisive victory.37 Two later inscriptions from Tukulti-Ninurta’s reign seem to indicate a major offensive which the king conducted into Hittite territory west of the Euphrates, resulting in the capture of 28,800 Hittites38―perhaps in the aftermath of the battle of Nihriya. But scholars believe that the figures are greatly exaggerated, and the whole episode indicative of no more than a minor border clash. Tukulti-Ninurta may never have seriously contemplated expansion of his empire into Syria. It is just possible that the Egyptian-Hittite alliance discouraged him from embarking on such an enterprise. Warfare and Diplomacy With the exception of the Hittite campaigns against Mitanni, Muwattalli’s two confrontations with Egypt at Qadesh, and Tudhaliya’s showdown with the Assyrian forces in the region of Nihriya, we know of no major battles which Hittite kings fought with their foreign peers throughout the entire period of Hittite history, lasting some 500 years. This despite the fact that warfare in the Hittite world as elsewhere in the Near East was part of the normal way of life. The ideology of kingship demanded that each occupant of the Hittite throne demonstrate throughout his reign his prowess as a war-leader, by campaigns which he personally conducted, sometimes on an annual basis. Warfare was not merely conducted in defence of the realm. It was also a business enterprise, from which substantial revenues could be gathered. But the campaigns to which the Hittites committed their military resources had to be chosen with care. Major confrontations with other Great Kingdoms could entail an enormous muster of troops, and often several years of preparation. The risks of 36

See Bryce 2005, 273–275. Lackenbacker 1982; see also Singer 1985. 38 Grayson 1987, 275. 37

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ultimate failure against large, well-trained, and well equipped armies were high, and the costs involved in terms of battlefield casualties could be substantial, whether or not victory was achieved. Further, as we have noted, the concentration of resources in one region left an inadequately defended homeland vulnerable to attack by other enemies from other regions. And a number of vassal states were quick to seize opportunities to rebel, when they knew that their overlord’s attention was diverted elsewhere. In many cases, diplomacy could prove a more effective instrument of control and defence than military force. No doubt the regular diplomatic exchanges between the Great Kings, by means of letters brought by royal emissaries, contributed greatly to the resolution of potential disputes between the Great Kingdoms over territorial issues, the harbouring of refugees etc, without the need for military confrontation.39 Hittite military campaigns were directed much more frequently against smaller states, including rebel vassal territories. Even in these cases, the costs of mounting the campaigns had to be carefully considered, and wherever possible diplomacy was tried as a first alternative to military force against a recalcitrant vassal state or rebel leader. Thus Hattusili III made two abortive attempts to resolve by diplomatic means a rebellion in western Anatolia provoked by a notorious insurrectionist called Piyamaradu, even while he was on the march against the rebels.40 On two occasions, Piyamaradu rejected peace proposals conveyed by emissaries to him as Hattusili’s army approached his stronghold. Treaties drawn up with the rulers of vassal states, often in the wake of military conquest, were an important means of attempting to consolidate Hittite authority over a conquered region. The treaties were personal compacts between Hittite overlord and vassal ruler. The vassal was guaranteed his overlord’s protection for himself and his rightful successors, and he in turn was obliged to swear unconditional loyalty to his overlord, and to provide him with reinforcements for his army when required, and with intelligence reports relating to antiHittite political or military developments in his region. The treaty imposed upon the vassal a range of other responsibilities as well. But diplomacy-by-treaty often failed. Vassal rulers frequently violated their obligations, and a number of those who remained loyal to their overlord were overthrown by anti-Hittite regimes. Nevertheless, the treaty system generally managed to give Hittite kings some years of respite from campaigning repeatedly in a particular region, enabling them to concentrate on other regions where crises had arisen which could not be resolved without prompt military intervention. An important reason for husbanding the kingdom’s military resources was the impact which a major campaign, or a series of smaller campaigns conducted simultaneously, could have on the kingdom’s food production, particularly if the regular army had to be reinforced by civilian draftees. Many of these must have been recruited from the homeland’s agricultural workforce, at times of the year when the foodlands were most in need of labour. As we have noted, military campaigns were conducted in the spring, summer, and autumn months. Food shortages attested in texts dating to the kingdom’s final decades have sometimes been attributed to environmental factors. But it could well be that increasing calls upon civilian draftees in 39 40

See Bryce 2003, espec. 57–94. Bryce 2005, 290–293.

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a period when the Hittite defence forces were increasingly stretched to maintain control over subject territories throughout the kingdom, especially in the frontier areas, led to serious shortages in the agricultural workforce at critical periods in the agricultural year. Even a relatively small expeditionary force probably required a minimum of 5,000 troops. If they were sent on campaign in western Anatolia or northern Syria, they could expect to spend six months or more away from the homeland. In one attested case, a military operation remained uncompleted at the end of one campaigning season and the troops were required to spend the winter in the field before resuming the campaign the following year.41 If a fortified city were placed under siege and refused to surrender voluntarily, a campaign could be greatly protracted, often imposing almost as much hardship on the besiegers as on the besieged. In some cases, a siege might last six months, in other cases it might be abandoned, with the besiegers contenting themselves with plundering and destroying its surrounding lands and villages. A well known Old Kingdom literary text describing an ill-managed siege of a city called Urshu42 may give some idea (though its historicity is very dubious) of the difficulties which the Hittites faced in attempting to capture a well defended city. On the other hand, Suppiluliuma succeeded in 1327 in taking Carchemish, the last Mitannian stronghold, after a siege lasting only seven days.43 Resistance to a Hittite besieging force could be fierce even if short-lived. Hattusili I reports that when he marched upon the city Hahha on the Euphrates he had to do battle three times with its defendants within the city’s gates before he managed to capture the city.44 A city that refused voluntary surrender and had to be taken by force was sacked and destroyed. In this case, Hattusili inflicted a final humiliation upon Hahha by harnessing its king (along with the king of Hassuwa, another conquered city) to one of the transport wagons used to convey the spoils of battle to Hattusa. However, a city and its population were generally spared destruction by an attacking Hittite force if their ruler threw open his gates to the attackers without resistance. Thus Mursili II reports that when he marched upon the capital of his rebellious vassal Manapa-Tarhunda, ruler of the western Anatolian kingdom called Seha River Land, the rebel made a last-minute bid to save his capital from sack and plunder when Mursili’s army was in the act of laying siege to it. Mursili claims that after originally refusing to accept the rebel’s submission, he finally did so after Manapa-Tarhunda had sent to him a deputation consisting of his mother and other elderly citizens to plead for mercy.45 Practical considerations almost certainly prompted Mursili’s apparent act of generosity towards his treacherous vassal. The vassal’s submission spared him the necessity of a further military operation towards the end of an already long campaign far from the homeland. And it was very much in the nature of Hittite diplomacy to give a demonstration of royal clemency in situations where such grace and favour were ill-deserved.

41

AM 60–61. Beckman 1995. 43 CS I, 190. 44 Chavalas 2006, 221 §§15–16, 19–20. 45 AM 68–73; CS II, 86; Beckman 1999, 83 §4. 42

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The Transportation of Booty At the conclusion of a campaign, the homeward-bound troops had the responsibility of escorting the spoils of their conquests back to the homeland, including prisonersof-war and livestock. The transportation of these to Hittite territory became a regular aftermath of military campaigns, and must in many cases have involved a logistical operation of substantial proportions. The Annals of Mursili II contain records of hundreds and sometimes thousands of ‘booty-people’ taken from their home territories back to Hittite territory. Those selected must have been among the most abledbodied members of their communities, to ensure that at least the majority of them would survive the rigours of a journey through perhaps hundreds of miles of inhospitable terrain, and still be fit for service in the Hittite state at the end of their journey. A substantial number of troops from the expeditionary force must have been required for escort-duty at the conclusion of the campaigning season. Their task was to protect those they were escorting, as well as themselves, from enemy attacks and raids―and also to ensure that their prisoners were secured against escape back to their own land or to another land where they might be offered asylum. The likelihood that prisoners often did escape is reflected in the severe warnings Hittite kings gave both to their own vassals as well as to independent rulers against harbouring refugees from Hittite authority. Military retaliation was threatened in such cases, and sometimes put into effect.46 The transportee escort-force had also to ensure adequate food and water for their charges. Grain-storage depots were located at strategic intervals in a number of the regions subject to Hatti. But provisions for much of the journey must have come from foraging expeditions by detachments of troops. The plunder of allied or subjects states for these provisions was prohibited, though supplies could be requisitioned from the rulers of these states when Hittite forces passed through them, on the understanding that all such provisions would be paid for. On the other hand, enemy towns and foodlands were plundered whenever the opportunities presented themselves, and no doubt provided a significant means of sustaining Hittite forces on their expeditions to campaign areas, and also their prisoners and livestock on their journey home. Training, Discipline, and Leisure With a few notable exceptions, Hittite military campaigns―at least those recorded in Hittite sources―seem almost invariably to have been successful.47 Undoubtedly the Hittites’ success on the battlefield was due to a number of factors―the speed with which they could reach a campaign area, their endurance in marching long distances under harsh environmental conditions, their skill in the battle itself, and their ability to sustain themselves and their prisoners by living off the land. All this must have been due to a rigorous program of training and discipline. Unfortunately we have little information about such programs for infantry forces. We do, however, have a few scraps of information about the training of the elite chariot contingent. This comes from a fragmentary early Hittite text, which apparently puts much emphasis

46 47

E.g. AM 40–45, CS II, 85. It should be pointed out that Hittite kings did report military failures as well as successes.

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on competence in bowmanship.48 Just as important was the training of horses, for endurance and stamina as well as speed and manoeuvrability in battle. Before the training season began, the available horses were culled to ensure that only the strongest and fittest were accepted for training. This is made clear in a manual dealing with the preparation of horses for chariot combat.49 It was composed by a man called Kikkuli, one of the Hittites’ Mitannian prisoners-of-war. The manual prescribed a training regime for chariot horses lasting 214 days, 32 of which were devoted to night manoeuvres. The few pieces of information we have about military discipline indicate that it could be harsh, with capital punishment imposed for a range of offences, including acts of disloyalty by an officer or lower-ranking soldier, and failure to report such acts. There are a couple of cases where an officer’s failure to respond promptly to the king’s command was threatened with death or mutilation by blinding.50 Admittedly these punishments were threatened, by the king Tudhaliya III, in a situation of severe crisis in the kingdom’s northern frontier regions. But we know of other cases where negligence or incompetence in the king’s service was punishable by death, and it could well be that death was the standard punishment for offences of this kind. An oath-taking ceremony has been preserved, which marked the induction of the lower order of officers and the rank-and-file troops into the army. Humiliation is specified as punishment for violating the oath: They bring the garments of a woman, a distaff and a mirror, they break an arrow and you speak as follows: ‘Is not this that you see here garments of a woman? We have them here for (the ceremony of taking) the oath. Whoever breaks these oaths and does evil to the king and the queen and the princes, let these oaths change him from a man into a woman! Let them change his troops into women, let them dress them in the fashion of women and cover their heads with a length of cloth! Let them break the bows, arrows, and clubs in their hands and let them put in their hands distaff and mirror!51 We may gain some idea of the leisure activities of troops from information derived from festival texts about games and contests which took place as part of the festivals. There were mock battles, including a contest between two sides representing the ‘men of Hatti’ and the ‘men of Masa’ (which the former always won), wrestling, perhaps a weight-lifting contest, foot races, horse races, and archery contests. A relatively large number of troops took part in the festivals, as military escorts for the king and other members of his family, and it is likely that they were among the main contestants in these events. Such events were almost certainly among the chief leisure activities of Hittite troops, especially those stationed in the remote garrison regions. The garrison towns were no doubt adequately serviced by taverns. Hostels behind the Kaskan towns mentioned in one of our texts52 were probably drinking houses patronized mainly by the local garrison. Few of the civilian population were 48

Beal 1992, 127–128. Kammenhuber 1961. 50 Alp 1991, 142–143, no. 16; 182–183, no. 35. 51 Transl. Goetze in Pritchard 1969, 354. 52 CS I, 189. 49

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likely to venture into them since they appear to have been built outside the townships, and thus beyond the security of their walls. One type of establishment that was no doubt popular with the troops was known as an arzana house.53 It apparently served food and drink, provided musical entertainment, and overnight accommodation. It was also, it seems, used for certain religious rituals. One such ritual, involving the induction of a Hittite prince into puberty with the assistance of a group of prostitutes, probably gives some indication of the special services provided by an arzana house, and its likely popularity with off-duty troops. Bibliography Alp, S., 1991: Hethitische Briefe aus Maşat-Höyuk. Ankara. Beal, R. H., 1992: The Organisation of the Hittite Military. Heidelberg. Beckman, G., 1995: The Siege of Uršu Text (CTH 7) and Old Hittite Historiography. JCS 47, 23―34. ― 1999: Hittite Diplomatic Texts. Atlanta (2nd edn). Bryce, T. R., 2003: Letters of the Great Kings of the Ancient Near East. London / New York. ― 2005: The Kingdom of the Hittites. Oxford (new edition). Chavalas, M. W. (ed.), 2006: The Ancient Near East. Oxford. Edel, E., 1994: Die Ägyptisch-hethitische Korrespondenz aus Boghazköy. Opladen. ― 1997: Der Vertrag zwischen Ramses II. von Ägypten und Hattusili III. von Hatti. Berlin. Gardiner, A., 1960: The Kadesh Inscriptions of Ramesses II. Oxford. Garstang, J. / Gurney, O. R., 1959: The Geography of the Hittite Empire. London. Goetze, A., 1933: Die Annalen des Mursilis (MVAG 38). Leipzig, repr. Darmstadt, 1967 (cited as AM). ― 1940: Kizzuwatna and the Problem of Hittite Geography. New Haven. Grayson, A. K., 1987: Assyrian Rulers of the Third and Second Millennia BC (To 1115 BC). The Royal Inscriptions of Mesopotamia Assyrian Periods, Vol. I. Toronto. Heinhold-Krahmer, S., 1977: Arzawa, Untersuchungen zu seiner Geschichte nach den hethitischen Quellen. Heidelberg. Hoffner, H. A., 1974: The Arzana House. In K. Bittel et al. (eds.): Anatolian Studies presented to Hans Gustav Güterbock on the Occasion of his 65th Birthday. Istanbul. Pp. 113―122. Kammenhuber, A., 1961: Hippologia Hethitica. Wiesbaden. Klengel, H., 1999: Geschichte des Hethitischen Reiches. Leiden. Lackenbacher, S., 1982: Nouveaux documents d’Ugarit. RA 76, 141―56. Moran, W., 1992: The Amarna Letters. Baltimore. Pritchard, J. B., 1969: Ancient Near Eastern Texts relating to the Old Testament. Princeton (3rd edn). Schuler, E. von, 1965: Die Kaškaer. Berlin. Singer, I., 1985: The Battle of Nihriya and the End of the Hittite Empire. ZA 75, 100―123. 53

Hoffner 1974.

The Power of a Pair of War Chariots in the Late Bronze Age On Letters RS 20.33 (Ugarit), BE 17 33a (Nippur), and EA 197 (Damascus Region)

Juan-Pablo Vita

1. The Akkadian letter RS 20.33, found in Ras Shamra / Ugarit, edited in 1968 by Jean Nougayrol and known as “The General’s Letter”, is a document of great historical relevance. It is the report a commander (whose identity is debated, although in all probability a Ugaritic soldier)1 sends to his King (probably Niqmepa of Ugarit) from the battle front, somewhere in the region of Amurru. The “general” informs the King of the military situation the sector under his command is in and requests reinforcements to be sent. The soldier describes in some detail the deployment of his troops on the land and the tactics used to observe the enemy, the harsh weather conditions that the soldiers have to endure, the poor condition of the horses and military equipment as well as the outcome of a victorious clash with the enemy. During that combat, a captured enemy solider provides valuable information on the moves of the enemy, made up of Egyptian troops led by the Pharaoh. The message ends with a statement which categorically declares the commander’s wish to achieve victory. It is a very detailed report, written in direct, lively, and at times vibrant language. Despite the length of the report, only once are the requested reinforcements described in detail: in line 5, the message itemizes the request of 3 ta-pal gišgigir.meš, in the sentence 3 ta-pal gišgigir.meš lik-ta-an-ni-na. Nougayrol2 translated the passage as “Qu’il prépare donc avec soin trois couples de chars”, an interpretation which has been broadly followed by other authors.3 In other parts of the letter, the mention of reinforcements is more generic: l. 15’, “may the King send troops

1

In this sense, we follow the opinions already stated by Stieglitz 1992, 457–458 and Dietrich 2001, 171–172. For other opinions about the origin of the sender of RS 20.33 see bibliography in footnote 3. 2 Nougayrol 1968, 70 and 74. 3 Rainey 1971, 133: “Send (šu-us-sí-šu-mi) three pairs of chariots. May it be completed(?)”; Izre’el 1988, 163: “Three pairs of chariots are to be maintained”; id., 1990, 23: “Three pairs of chariots are to be assigned”; Lackenbacher 2002, 68: “Qu’on prépare avec soin trois paires de chars pour qu’elles soient mises en place!”. Variations in the translation also depend on the analysis made by each author of the difficult verb form lik-ta-an-ni-na, regarding this see Izre’el 1990, 30; Márquez Rowe 1996, 113; Dietrich 2001, 133–134.

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(erin2.meš-bu) and chariots (gišgigir.meš)”, and l. 21’, “may the King assign troops (erin2.meš-bu) and chariots (gišgigir.meš)”. However, the precise interpretation of the term tapālu4 within the context of this letter is not without problems. As stated by Izre’el, “we would have expected simittu ‘team’ (or the like) instead of tāpal (cf. CAD: fi: 198b)”,5 and the expression 3 ta-pal giš gigir.meš “seems to be a contamination of 3 tāpal sīsē ‘3 pairs of horses’ and 3 narkabātē ‘3 chariots’”. On the other hand, Dietrich6 proposes taking tapālu as “unit” (“Einheit”), the designation of a military unit which could be made up of “Streitwagen, paarweise vorgespannten Zugpferden, einer Kampfbesatzung, Tierpflegern und Wagentechnikern”; the translation of the passage could be: “Laß ausrücken (šu-us-sí-šu--mi) drei Streitwagen Einheiten, damit sie Position beziehen”.7 CAD T 2006, 177 seems to echo Dietrich’s proposal, and translates 3 ta-pal giš gigir.meš lik-ta-an-ni-na8 as “three chariot teams(?) should be assigned(?) to me”. 2. The reading {3 ta-pal gišgigir.meš} in line 5 of the letter RS 20.33 does not pose material doubts, nor does the meaning of tapālu; in principle, therefore, the translation of 3 ta-pal gišgigir.meš as “3 pairs of war chariots” must be accepted. Nonetheless, this expression does raise certain issues. Along with the question stated above by Izre’el (§1), it could also be asked why would the commander request the reinforcement of chariots referring to “pairs” rather than stating exactly the precise amount (for example, “six chariots”). There also seems to be a disparity between the form of the message (long, with vibrant, intense language and a sense of urgency) and its content (the request of a reinforcement of simply six war chariots), an imbalance which could be resolved by Dietrich’s proposal (§1). Perhaps the underlying problem for the correct understanding of the expression 3 ta-pal gišgigir.meš is our current perception of the military value that one war chariot could have. It is relatively easy for us to imagine the effect and result produced on the battlefield by the enormous amounts of chariots that the great powers at the time could muster;9 for example, the hundreds of chariots that the King of Hatti seems to have used in the battle of Qadeš, which were probably confronted by a similar number by the Egyptian King.10 But, what use, what military value could one sole war chariot or a pair or chariots have? 3. The problem of the translation and interpretation of 3 ta-pal gišgigir.meš in RS 20.33:5 (“3 pairs of chariots”, “3 units of chariots”, etc.) seems, at least for the time being, not likely to be resolved with certainty in either sense. But, by way of reflection, we believe it is pertinent to take into consideration the Kassite Babilonian letter

4

AHw 1320: “Paar v Ggst.n”; CAD T, 177: “pair, set of two”. Izre’el 1990, 30. 6 Dietrich 2001, 133. 7 Dietrich 2001, 128. 8 CAD T 2006, 177 reads lik-ta-an-ni-ma, a probable misprint instead of the correct lik-ta-anni-na. 9 Farber 1976–1980, 342–343. 10 Drews 1993, 107; Cavillier 2002, 191 n. 24. 5

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BE 17 33a.11 It is a letter from Nippur, whose date is not precisely set, where a soldier called Nimgirab-[DN]12 informs his King (unspecified), in great detail, of the location, deployment and use of one unit of five war chariots. After the introduction, the message continues: (3) a-na uru.didli en.nu.un (4) ša be-lí-ia šu-ul-[m]u (5) um-ma a-na be-lí-iama (6) ša be-lí iš-pu-ra um-ma-a 5 gišgigir-ka (7) lu-ú am-ra-at-ma a-šar ašap-pa-rak-ku (8) tu-si-i-ma tal-lak (9) um-ma-a a-na be-lí-ia-ma (10) at-tuú-a a-na ugu 5 gišgigir (11) ša be-lí i-du-u a-a-i-tu-um-ma-a (12) i-ba-aš-ši um-ma-a a-na be-lí-ia-ma (13) 5-ma gišgigir Ù(?) a-na gir-ri ša be-lí (14) iqab-bu-ú il-la-ak (15) an-nu-ú-tu4 uru.didli ša be-lì- (16) i-na mi-ni-i bir5-ta (17) li-is-su-ru (18) [um]-ma-a a-na be-lí-ia-ma (19) ¯pu²-ut gi-na-a ana-ku áš-ba-ku-ma (20) ù gi-na-a ir-te-né-ed-du-ma (21) a-na uru.didli ša belí šu-ul-[mu-šu]-ni (22) i-na-an-na 5-ma gišgigir ša áš-ba-tu-ma (23) ¯bi²-ir-ta i-na-as-sa-ru a-na gir-ri (24) ša be-lí i-qab-bu-ú te-ba-at (25) ù it-ti a-na šu!ru-di!-ia lúkúr (26) ul i-ḫat-¯ti² us-sa-am-ma (27) i-ḫab-ba-at um-ma-a a-na be-lí-ia-ma (28) be-lí a-na sak-ru-maš liq-bi (29) 2 gišgigir a-na gir-ri ša be-lí i-¯qab-bu²-ú (30) lil-li-ik ù a-na-ku lu-uk-ka-li-ma (31) i-na 2 gišgigir bi-ir-ta ša be-lí-ia (32) lu-us-sur ù a-la-ka (33) be-lí iš-tap-ra-am-ma (34) 2 gišgigir itti-ia lil-li-ik (35) ù 2 gišgigir li-ik-ka-li-ma (36) bi-ir-ta ša be-lí-i[a] (37) li-issur Everything is in order with the garrisoned towns of my lord. Say as follows to my lord: Concerning what my lord wrote to me (in the following terms): “your five chariots should be inspected. You will leave and go wherever I order you”. Say as follows to my lord: Concerning the five chariots my master knows about, is some other available?13 Say as follows to my lord: the five chariots x(?) shall set off to the campaign my lord ordered; how (then) shall they protect the fort these towns of my lord? Say as follows to my lord: Because I am always present and always in command (of the troops)14 the towns of my lord are at peace. (If) now these five chariots which are (normally) stationed (here) guarding the fortress, leave for the campaign my lord ordered and I let them go,15 the enemy will not fail to come out and loot. Say as follows to my lord: my lord should give orders to the sakrumaš16 to go 11

Radau 1908, 135–139. Letter BE 17 33a, some of whose passages are difficult to understand, has been taken into consideration in various volumes of CAD, whose translation we shall generally follow, and in Aro 1957. Some passages have also been dealt with in Aro 1955. For lines 22–32 see also the transcription and translation by Sassmannshausen 2001, 54. 12 Hölscher 1996, 151. Sassmannshausen 2001, 54: Nimgirab-[Marduk]. 13 CAD A/1 238: “Concerning, in addition(?) to the five chariots my master knows about, is some other available?”; Aro 1955, 106: “betreffs der 5 Kriegswagen die mein Herr weiss, welches (von den zwei Möglichkeiten) wird geschehen?”. 14 Aro 1955, 118: “weil ich beständig da wohne und beständig folge(?)”; Aro 1957, 80–81: “angesichts dessen [¯pu²-ut (i-na?)], dass ich gewöhnlich anwesend bin und beständig immer wieder folge (od. 3 Pl?)”. 15 Sassmannshausen 2001, 54: “und ich sie [the chariots] hinabbringe”; CAD N/1 193: “ana šūrudija LÚ.KÚR ul iḫatti (obscure)”. 16 CAD S 82: “a military title”; AHw 1013: “ein Streitwagenoffizier?; Sassmannshausen 2001, 54: “Streitwagensoldaten”.

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with two chariots on the campaign about my lord gives orders, but I will stay here and I will guard my lord’s fortress with two chariots.17 My lord has ordered me to go, two chariots must go with me, but two chariots should be kept back and should defend the fortress of my lord. Letter BE 17 33a shows, unequivocally, that the subject of discussion is the five war chariots. According to the military commander who sends the letter, these chariots are an essential element for an unspecified number of towns to be able to defend a fortress.18 The soldier makes a serious attempt at arguing against the King’s decision to send those five chariots to a campaign which will take place in another territory. In the absence of those chariots, the enemy, who is lying in wait, will no doubt loot the region. Anticipating the possibility that the King may persist in his orders, the soldier tries to get from the King that at least two chariots remain in their current position to defend the fortress. Two chariots are, therefore, the minimum amount considered essential by the commander to defend that military position. In our opinion, this letter clearly shows the enormous military value attached in the Late Bronze to a small number of chariots (five, in this case), which were no doubt able to combine simultaneously offensive and defensive actions. Even a pair of chariots would be sufficient, according to the commander, to keep the enemy from the fortress and its surrounding territory. 4. The two letters RS 20.33 and BE 17 33a share various interesting elements: a) they are reports sent to their respective Kings by military commanders operating in the field; b) the main subject of the two letters are the war chariots that those commanders need to successfully accomplish their missions; c) they show that the final decision concerning the granting and distribution of the chariots is exclusive to the King as the supreme commander of the army. In our opinion, letter BE 17 33a could allow us to accept without a problem the translation “3 pairs of war chariots” of 3 ta-pal gišgigir.meš in RS 20.33:5: the amount of six war chariots could be, indeed, a highly efficient and effective military force, a great reinforcement which could turn the course of an initially adverse military situation. 5. Based on what we have already seen, it is possible to reconsider next a passage from the letter EA 197 from Amarna (opening lines missing), whose interpretation has posed problems for several scholars. The sender is Biryawaza, a character whose precise identification and historical value continue to be controversial despite his recurrence in the correspondence from Amarna.19 The petrographic analysis of the tablet reveals that it comes from the area of modern Damascus.20 In the passage in

17

Sassmannshausen 2001, 54 n. 807: “Man beachte, daß die Summe der Wagen nicht stimmt”. 18 A situation which is redolent of a passage of the Amarna letter EA 243:10–18: “I am indeed guard[ing] Magidda, the city of the King, my lord, day and night: l[e-l]a. By day I guard (it) [f]rom the fields with chariots, and by n[ight] on the wall[s of] the King, my lord” (Moran 1992, 297). 19 Regarding this character see recently Vita 2004. 20 Goren / Finkelstein / Na’aman 2004, 171 and 224.


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question, Biryawaza accuses another person (Biridašwa), before the Pharaoh, of having locked the gates of a town on him and he adds:21 (10) ù yi-il5-qé gišgigir.meš i-na uruAš-tar-te22 (11) ù ya-di-in4-šu-ni a-na sa.gaz (12) ù la-a ya-di-in4-šu-ni a-na lugal en-ia

lú.meš

The verbal form of lines 11 and 12 presents the suffix pronoun of the accusative third person dual -šunī. In his study of the dual personal pronouns in western peripheral akkadian, Moran believed that the suffixes of EA 197:11 and 12 “present obvious difficulties”23 and added the following comment: “[-šunī in EA 197:11 and 12] has its antecedent gišgigir.meš. Here we must either admit an erroneous use of the suffix or, as everything we have seen so far encourages us to do, assume that the determinative is to be disregarded, as is often true in WPA. We should thus understand that the chariots taken and handed over the ‘Apiru were in fact only two”.24 Nonetheless, this conclusion must not have been fully convincing to Moran and in his later translation of the epistolary Amarna corpus he translated lines 10–12 as follows: “he took chariots from Aštartu but gave both of them to the ‘Apiru and did not give both of them to the King, my lord”.25 The words in italics in the translation are Moran’s and they are intended to give an indication of the problem of translating and understanding the passage posed by the dual pronoun suffixes, as he points out in a footnote of the translation: “The implication that Biridašwa took only two chariots is somewhat surprising and perhaps not right (mistaken use of the dual suffix?)”.26 The problem in understanding the passage posed by the two dual suffixes of EA 197:11 and 12 is apparent also in other translations. Liverani,27 for example, prefers not to reflect in his translation the presence of those suffixes: “e prese dei carri (per andare) ad Ashtartu, ma (poi) li diede ai nemici (habiru) e non li diede al re mio signore”. Rainey28 comments on this passage that “the context does not specify a dual referent for the suffix. However, it is possible to deduce from the suffix that two chariots are all that are involved”; however, his translations of the lines do not always reflect the dual suffixes: “And he took chariots from Ashtaroth and he gave them to the ‘apîru men and did not give them to the King, my lord”,29 although elsewhere he translates: “and took chariots from Ashtaroth and turned both of them over to the ‘apîru and did not turn them over to the King, my lord”.30 In our opinion, the comments made above concerning letters RS 20.33 and BE 17 33a (cf. §§3 and 4) must allow us to admit that the scribe of EA 197 used the dual suffixes of lines 11 and 12 deliberately and properly, that lines 10–12 should be 21

For the transcription of EA 197:10–12 see also Rainey 1996a, 85. Belmonte 2001, 43: “Das biblische Astaroth in Basan, das heutige Tall ‘Aštara ... östlich des Tiberias-Sees”. 23 Moran 1973, 51 = Huehnergard / Izre’el 2003, 244. 24 Moran 1973, 53 = Huehnergard / Izre’el 2003, 246–247. 25 Moran 1992, 275. 26 Moran 1992, 275 n. 275. 27 Liverani 1998, 252. 28 Rainey 1996a, 85. 29 Rainey 1996a, 85, who adds: “On the other hand, the context of the letter might suggest that the dual is meant to indicate the chariot forces of two towns”. 30 Rainey 1996b, 223. 22

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translated as suggested by Moran,31 removing the italics, thus: “he took chariots from Aštartu but gave both of them to the ‘Apiru and did not give both of them to the King, my lord”. 6. The three letters RS 20.33, BE 17 33a and EA 197 have a common feature which should be highlighted: the three of them, quite tellingly, mention pairs of chariots. In the case of EA 197, it could be thought that the two chariots of which Biryawaza informs the Pharaoh could be a sign of the small scale to which, at least at times, armed conflicts used to be reduced amongst the vassal Kingdoms of Egypt; the King of Tyre, for example, deems it important to inform the Pharaoh that the King of Sidon, within the framework of the war between the two towns, captures each day a Tyrian subject (EA 148) or that, on one particular occasion, the Sidonians captured one Tyrian and killed another (EA 154). However, this was not with certainty the situation of Ugarit and, even less so, of Kassite Babylonia, whose Kingdoms had a large number of chariots of war in their armies;32 the King of Ugarit could, without a doubt, send much more than six pairs of chariots of war as reinforcements to the commander of RS 20.33. The units of chariots seem to have consisted, in the Late Bronze, of a minimum tactical unit of ten chariots.33 However, letters RS 20.33, BE 17 33a and EA 197 seem to point to the possibility that that unit of ten chariots could, in turn, be divided into lesser units of two chariots, of pairs of chariots: one pair of chariots of war in coordinated operation may have constituted an operational unit which allowed those vehicles to deploy all their offensive and defensive potential on the spot. This fact could also give us an idea of the psychological effect that the presence of just one sole enemy chariot of war may have had over infantry soldiers at that time. Bibliography Aro, J., 1955: Studien zur Mittelbabylonischen Grammatik. Helsinki. ― 1957: Glossar zu den Mittelbabylonischen Briefen. Helsinki. Cavillier, G., 2002: Le fasi della battaglia. In M. C. Guidotti / F. Pecchioli Daddi (eds.): La battaglia di Qadesh. Ramesse II contro gli Ittiti per la conquista Della Siria. Firenze. Pp. 182–191. Dietrich, M., 2001: Der Brief des Kommandeurs Šumiyānu an den ugaritischen König Niqmepa‘ (RS 20.33). Ein Bericht über Aktivitäten nach der Schlacht bei Qadeš 1275 v. Chr. UF 33, 117–191. Drews, R., 1993: The End of the Bronze Age. Changes in Warfare and the Catastrophe ca. 1200 B.C. Princeton. Farber, W., 1976–1980: Kampfwagen (Streitwagen). A. Philologisch. RlA 5, 336– 344. Goren, Y. / Finkelstein, I. / Na’aman, N., 2004: Inscribed in Clay. Provenance Study of the Amarna Tablets and Other Ancient Near Eastern Texts. Tel Aviv.

31

Moran 1992, 275. For Ugarit, see recently Vita 2008. 33 Vita 2008, 62. 32


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Hölscher, M., 1996: Die personennamen der kassitenzeitlichen Texte aus Nippur. Münster. Huehnergard, J. / Izre’el, Sh., 2003: W. L. Moran, Amarna Studies. Collected Writings. Edited by J. Huehnergard and Shlomo Izre’el. Winona Lake. Izre’el, Sh., 1988: When was the “General’s Letter” from Ugarit Written? In M. Heltzer / E. Lipiński (eds.): Society and Economy in the Eastern Mediterranean (c. 1500–1000 B.C.). Proceedings of the International Symposium held at the University of Haifa from the 28th of April to the 2nd of May 1985. Louvain. Pp. 160–175. ― 1990: The General’s Letter: Philological and Linguistic Aspects. In Sh. Izre’el / I. Singer 1990. Pp. 17–111. Izre’el, Sh. / Singer, I., 1990: The General’s Letter from Ugarit. A Linguistic and Historical Reevaluation of RS 20.33 (Ugaritica V, No. 20). Tel Aviv. Liverani, M., 1998: Le lettere di el-Amarna. Vol. 1. Le lettere dei “Piccoli Re”. Brescia. Márquez Rowe, I., 1996: An Akkadian Letter of the Amarna Period at Ugarit. AuOr 14, 107–126. Moran, W. L., 1973: The Dual Personal Pronouns in Western Peripheral Akkadian. BASOR 211, 50–53 = Huehnergard, J. / Izre’el, Sh. 2003: 243–247. ― 1992: The Amarna Letters. Baltimore / London. Nougayrol, J., 1968: La “lettre du Général”. In J. Nougayrol / E. Laroche / Ch. Virolleaud / Cl. F. A. Schaeffer: Ugaritica V. Pp. 69–79. Rainey, A. F., 1971: A Front Line Report from Amurru. UF 3, 131–149. ― 1996a: Canaanite in the Amarna Tablets, vol 1. Leiden. ― 1996b: Canaanite in the Amarna Tablets, vol 2. Leiden. Sassmannshausen, L., 2001: Beiträge zur Verwaltung und Gesellschaft Babyloniens in der Kassitenzeit. Meinz am Rhein. Stieglitz, R. R., 1992: Review of Izre’el, Sh. / Singer, I., 1990. Vita, J.-P., 2004: Reyes de Damasco en la época de El-Amarna. ISIMU 7, 223–228. ― 2008: Le char de guerre en Syrie et Palestine au Bronze récent. In Ph. Abrahami / L. Battini (eds.): Les armées du Proche-Orient ancien (IIIe–Ier mill. av. J.-C.). Oxford. Pp. 57–69.

Sutean Warfare in the Amarna Letters Jordi Vidal∗

1. Sutean Tribes in the Amarna Letters An internal periphery, beyond the control of palatine authorities, existed within the eastern Mediterranean kingdoms in the Bronze Age. This internal periphery was made up of pastoral tribes and brigands in the Syrian steppe, the Anatolian highlands and the wooded or hilly areas, and pirates in the coastal regions.1 Focusing in the pastoral tribes, certain aspects, such as their economy and their social structure, have received considerable attention, while other aspects, such as their way of doing warfare, have been practically ignored. The aim of this paper is to analyse the military element of those pastoral tribes. In order to do this we shall focus in a particular time span, the 14th century BCE, a specific region, the Levant, and a concrete archive, the Amarna Letters. The main pastoral tribes mentioned in the Amarna letters are the Suteans.2 It is not clear whether in those letters the term Sutean alluded to an actual ethnic group/tribe or to a way of life, i.e. pastoral nomadism.3 Some textual references seem to confirm this last possibility. Thus, for example, the Hittites used the name Sutean as a generic term to refer to a well known ethnic group, the Kaska tribes from the north of Anatolia.4 It is then possible that the term Sutean could have changed its ∗

This paper has been written thanks to a postdoctoral fellowship granted by the Departament d’Educació i Universitats de la Generalitat de Catalunya at the School of Oriental and African Studies (University of London). I am grateful to Ester Blay and Wilfred G. E. Watson for their help in writing this paper. Of course, any mistakes are my own. 1 Liverani 2003, 127; Van de Mieroop 2007, 50ff. 2 EA 16: 38 (lú.meš su-tu4-ú) and 40 (lú.meš su-ti-i) , EA 122: 34 (lú.meš kur su-te), EA 123: 14 ([lú.m]eš kur su-te), EA 169: 25 (lú.meš erín.meš sú-u-tù) and 29 (lú.meš sú-u-tù), EA 195: 29 (lú.meš su-te-ia), EA 246: r. 8 (lú.meš kur s[u-ti]), EA 297: 16 (lú.meš kur ¯su²-ti7.meš), EA 318: 13 (lú.meš su!-ti-i). 3 Zadok 1985, 59; Astour 1999, 32f,; Van de Mieroop 2007, 54. Instead, Heltzer points out “that in the Syro-Palestinian region their ethnic name was not used [during the Amarna age] as the simple designation for nomads or robbers in general” (Heltzer 1981, 83). 4 Van de Mieroop 2007, 54f. Götze suggested that the ŠUTI/SUTE mentioned in the Hittite texts were a unit of light troops originally formed by Syrian bedouins, the Suteans (Götze 1933, 242). Güterbock ruled out this possibility, pointing out that they were Kaškean ŠUTItroops. According to Güterbock it is highly unlikely that Kaškean tribesmen without central government could have had a special corps of Syrian bedouin mercenaries. Therefore, for the translation of ŠUTI/SUTE he suggested “tribe” or “tribal group” in general (Güterbock 1956,

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meaning during the Bronze Age, from a reference to a well-defined tribe in northern Syria in the Old Babylonian period,5 to a generic term for pastoral nomads since the 16th century BCE. From an economic and social point of view the Suteans were clearly different from the urban populations of the Levant. Thus, their economy was a pastoral economy based on transhumance―the seasonal movement of flocks of sheep and goats between winter and summer pastures, following well planned migratory routes repeated annually. As for their social and political organization, nomad tribes in the Ancient Near East, who theoretically claim descent from a common ancestor, tended to show a high variability, from small, decentralised and egalitarian groups, to large, highly integrated, and hierarchical chiefdoms.6 In recent years it has been common to define the relations between pastoral tribes and the sedentary population as a mutually profitable symbiosis.7 This relationship would consist of a frequent exchange of goods, whereby nomad tribes provided animal products to urban populations and received agricultural or craft products in return. Moreover, the practice of transhumance would be beneficial for farmers since flocks fertilised uncultivated fields. Meanwhile, Sutean tribes also participated in international trade, escorting caravans and protecting them when they crossed dangerous areas.8 However, the definition of a perfect symbiosis between pastoral and sedentary tribes runs the risk of offering too idyllic an image of the relationships between the two sectors.9 In fact, such a relationship was also full of deadly conflicts10 which usually took the form of irregular warfare. The military disadvantage (technological, numerical and tactical) of pastoral tribes in direct confrontations with regular armies was an insuperable issue. The Amarna Letters do not provide any information on the weaponry of Sutean tribes. However, this gap can be partially filled thanks to the Egyptian reliefs depicting Shasu bedouins―nomad tribes from the southern Levant. According to these Egyptian reliefs, Shasu bedouins used shock weapons (lances,11 fenestrated axes,12 swords,13 sickle-swords,14 maces15), throwing weapons (javelins16) and defensive

62, n. c). Finally, according to Beal, the term ŠUTI/SUTE “refers to soldiers of a type who were armed, fought, and/or dressed differently than other soldiers and also refers to the unit(s) composed of such soldiers” (Beal 1992, 107f.). On Suteans in Middle Assyrian texts see, for instance, Nashef 1982, 237, Llop 2001, 169 n. 709 and Duistermaat 2007, 30. For Suteans in post-Kassite Babylonia see Brinkman 1968, 285ff. 5 On Suteans in the Mari texts see Kupper 1957, 83ff., Heltzer 1981, 13ff. and, more recently, Heimpel 2003, 26ff. 6 Khazanov 1984, 53ff.; Schwartz 1995, 249f. 7 See, for example, Rowton 1974, 28ff. and Schwartz 1995, 250f. 8 EA 16 (see Liverani 2004 and Vidal 2006). 9 Van de Mieroop 2007, 54. 10 The plundering of caravans is well attested in the Amarna archives (see Liverani 2001, 73). 11 Giveon 1971, doc. 8a, pl. II; doc. 8b and 8c, pl. II; doc. 15, pl. VI; doc. 22, pl. X; doc. 40a, pl. XI; doc. 40c, pl. XI. 12 Giveon 1971, doc. 11, pl. V G. 13 Giveon 1971, doc. 9, pl. III; doc. 15 pl. VI; doc. 40b, pl. XI; doc. 40c, pl. XI. 14 Giveon 1971, doc. 8a, pl. II; doc. 40d, pl. XI B. 15 Giveon 1971, doc. 18, pl. VII 4; doc. 40a, pl. XI; doc. 40e, pl. XI B.

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weapons (eight-shaped shields,17 round shields,18 oblong shields,19 square shields20). But in spite of the diversity of their weaponry, pastoral tribes had neither war chariots nor composite bows, two of the most important elements in Late Bronze Age warfare. The manufacture and maintenance of composite bows and especially of war chariots were very expensive, and required the existence of specialist soldiers in order to take advantage of their use. This would explain why pastoral tribes did not use both elements. Historically pastoral tribes have not fought following tactical criteria. Traditionally, tribal wars consist of frontal clashes between disorganized hordes of warriors. On the contrary, regular armies in the Bronze Age were well structured, divided into units and sections, with troops distinguished by their function, equipment, origin, etc., and their battles developed following tactical criteria.21 This would explain why pastoral tribes tended to avoid direct fighting in the open field, and preferred instead methods of irregular warfare in more favourable terrain. 2. Suteans and Guerrilla Warfare As Rowton has pointed out, the geography of the Levant, with bush forests, rugged cliffs and gorges, provided an ideal landscape for the brigandage practiced by groups such as the habiru or the Suteans.22 Those remote and sparsely inhabited areas were difficult to control by the states with the military equipment available in the Bronze Age, thus preventing the adoption of effective military measures against brigandage.23 In this landscape Sutean tribes could easily adopt guerrilla tactics (ambushes, evasive actions) to neutralize the numerical, tactical and technological superiority of the regular armies sent to eradicate brigandage. Guerrilla tactics allowed the Suteans to exploit the principle of surprise to its maximum, particularly when they had not only the advantage of the difficult terrain but also of the darkness of the night, both to cover their advance and to launch their attack.24 Another feature of Sutean warfare was the effort to reduce the number of individuals involved in the conflicts with regular armies. In this way, tribes got to limit casualties and to reduce pressure on their demographic resources. The Amarna letters do not contain numerical data on the military forces of Sutean tribes, so in order to illustrate this practice we have to recall a text from Mari.25 ARM 27 161 records a raid on Babylon carried out by 50 Suteans from Udanum, in the region of Larsa. The 16 Giveon 1971, doc. 11, pl. V G; doc. 18, pl. VII 4; doc. 40b, pl. XI; doc. 40d, pl. XI B; doc. 40e, pl. XI B. 17 Giveon 1971, doc. 15, pl. VI. 18 Giveon 1971, doc. 40b, pl. XI. 19 Giveon 1971, doc. 40d, pl. XI B. 20 Giveon 1971, doc. 22, pl. X. 21 See, for example, Yadin 1963, 111ff.; Vidal 2009. 22 See, for example, EA 318 where the Suteans are equated with “brigands” (l. 12: lú.meš haba-ti) (see Kupper 1957, 100; Heltzer 1981, 83). 23 Rowton 1965. 24 Yadin 1963, 110ff. 25 However, we must bear in mind the possibility of the different meanings of the term Sutean in the Mari texts and in the Amarna letters, as already mentioned.

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Suteans kidnapped some men and stole grain. The Babylonian reprisal consisted in a military expedition to Udanum formed by 300 soldiers. It is interesting to note that the Suteans faced the Babylonian forces with only 30 men, 20 men less than those who had participated in the raid. This illustrates that the priority of the Suteans was the raid and not the battle against regular armies, an activity from which they could not apparently benefit. 3. Sutean Mercenaries in the Amarna Letters In some cases however Sutean tribes took part in complex battles. The Amarna letters sometimes refer to Suteans hired as mercenaries.26 Thus, in EA 246 Biridiya, king of Megiddo, informed the pharaoh that Laba’aya, king of Shechem, hired habiru and Sutean mercenaries: r.5. ù a-nu-um-ma 2 dumu.m[eš] m la-ab-a-ya ti7-id-[di]n-na kù.babbar.meš-šu-ni a-na lú.meš sa.gaz u a-na lú.meš kur s[u-ti] [a-n]a i-pé-e[š nu-kúr-ti] r.10. [ug]u-ia (…) And now the two sons of Lab’aya have given their silver to the habiru and to the S[uteans], [in ord]er to mak[e war again]st me. In EA 195 Biryawaza of Damascus detailed the composition of his army, formed by infantry, chariotry, archers and habiru and Sutean mercenaries: a-nu-ma a-na-ku qa-du 25. érin.meš-ia ù giš gigir.meš-ia ù qa-du šeš.meš-ia ù qa-du lú.meš sa.gaz.meš-ia ù qa-du lú.meš su-te-ia 30. a-na pa-ni érin.meš pi-tá-te a-di a-šar yi-qa-bu m lugal be-li-ia Now I, with my troops and my chariots, and with my brothers, and with my habiru, and with my Suteans, will be in the forefront of the archers, to wherever the king, my lord, commands.

26

Possibly, the administrative tablet Taanach 3 (see recently Horowitz / Oshima 2006, 134ff.) also contains a reference to the Suteans as a mercenaries. The tablet records a list of personnel mobilized (dekû) for some purpose. One of the meanings of the verb dekû is “to call up soldiers and dispatch them, to move troops (into battle)” (CAD D, 123f.), so it is possible that the tablet registers a military recruitment (see Heltzer 1981, 81). In line r. 4’ Zeraya “the Sutean” (mze-ra-ya lú su) is mentioned. According to the possible military context of the tablet, then, it is plausible to consider Zeraya as a Sutean mercenary.


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Therefore it is clear that in some instances Sutean mercenaries took part in complex battles. Unfortunately neither EA 195 nor EA 246 clarifies their role during those battles.27 One of the most common reasons to hire mercenaries, beyond the obvious will to possess the largest possible manoeuvrable force for open warfare in the field,28 is to have at one’s disposal groups that are particularly skilled in warfare. However neither written sources nor iconography show that the Suteans had any special skill in combat or in the use of specific weapons that could be considered as decisive in a complex battle. Bearing in mind that the Suteans did not use composite bows, did not have war chariots and only occasionally came into contact with complex battles, I think it is reasonable to assume that their main function in this context was to provide support in actions not directly related to hand-to-hand combat―acting as both screen and escort for the chariots moving in column; guarding the encampment at night; killing or capturing fugitives and rescuing fallen soldiers of their own army. It is unlikely that Sutean mercenaries took part in more complex actions which required a good coordination between chariotry and infantry―providing instead a resort in order to facilitate the retreat of chariots in the event of a rout; creating a cordon for repelling oncoming chariots with arrows, javelins or short spears; acting as skirmishers.29 It is also possible that the kingdoms hired Sutean mercenaries in order to get advantages other than military. By hiring Suteans, the palatine authorities would be linking the sustenance of those tribes to the retribution of their military services. This facilitated the development of links of dependence and faithfulness from the tribes to the palace. Acting in this way, the authorities could establish some control mechanisms over this part of the traditionally uncontrolled and troubled internal periphery. 4. EA 122 / 123: An Example of Irregular Warfare Besides their use as auxiliary troops in conventional military campaigns, Sutean mercenaries also carried out operations of irregular warfare. Their mobility and perfect knowledge of the terrain made them a very good choice to undertake this kind of military operation. The best example of this practice is attested in EA 122, a letter from Rib-Adda of Byblos to the pharaoh: (…) ù mpa-hu-ra a-pa-aš ip-ša ra-ba a-na ia-ši uš-ši-ir lú.meš kur su-te ù 35. da-ku lú še-er-da-ni ù 3 lú.meš šu-ri-ib a-na kur mi-is-ri 27

See Kupper 1957, 100 and Heltzer 1981, 82 on the possibility that the Suteans mentioned in EA 169 served as mercenaries in Amurru. 28 See Vidal 2006b, 702. 29 See Yadin 1963, 108ff., Stillman / Tallis 1984, 54ff. and 63ff., Drews 1993, 113ff. and 141ff. on the role of infantry and chariotry in Late Bronze Age battles.

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And Pahura has committed a great enormity against me. He sent the Suteans and they killed a šerdanu and they! brought three men to Egypt. In EA 123,30 another letter from Rib-Adda to the pharaoh, the same episode is recorded with the addition of the name of the three inhabitants of Byblos captured by the Suteans: [u]š-ši-ir mpí-hu-ra [lú.m]eš kur su-te d[a-ku] 15. [lú] še-er-da-ni [ù] [l]a-qú 3 lú.<meš> ¯ù² [š]u-ri-bu a![-na] kur mi-is-ri (…) (…) 36. mìr-i-ra-ma m sum-diškur mìr-lugal Pahura sent Suteans, they ki[lled] a šerdanu [and] they [t]ook three men and brought them t[o] Egypt (…) (They are:) Abdi-rama, Yattin-Hadda, AbdiMilki. Most scholars have interpreted this episode as a reference to an attack on Byblos ordered by the Egyptian authorities, in this instance Pahura, and carried out by Sutean mercenaries.31 However, Rainey rules out this interpretation. According to him, EA 122 / 123 refers to an official action by the Egyptian police, carried out by Egyptian auxiliary troops, i.e., the Sutean mercenaries. The aim of the operation would have been to arrest the four men from Byblos and transport them to Egypt. One of the four men, a šerdanu mercenary, must have resisted detention, so the Suteans killed him.32 In my opinion, Rainey’s interpretation has the merit of proposing a context and an explanation for the operation ordered by Pahura, which otherwise remains uncertain, but it does raise some problems. Pahura,33 mentioned in nine Amarna letters,34 was an Egyptian commissioner at Kumidi in the Beqac Valley during the reign of Amenophis IV. Kumidi together with Gaza and Jaffa in Palestine, Ullaza and Sumur in Syria and Beth Shan, at the eastern end of the Jezreel Valley, was one of the Egyptian centres in the Levant.35 EA 19036 confirms that the city had an Egyptian garrison: 30

See Rainey 2003, 195 for the collation of lines 9–28. Kupper 1957, 100; Moran 1992, 202 n. 3. 32 Rainey 2003, 194ff. 33 See Albright 1946, 18; Redford 1990, 16f.; Hess 1993, 129f. 34 EA 57: 6 (m[p]u-hu-ru) and 10 (mpu-h[u-ru]), EA 117: 61 (mpí-hu-ra), EA 122: 31 (mpa-hura), EA 123: 13 and 34 (mpí-hu-ra), EA 132: 47 (mpí-hu-ra), EA 189: 17 (mpu-hu-ri) and 18 (mp[u]-hu-ru), EA 190: 2 ([mp]u-hu-ri), EA 207: 17 (mpu-hu-ur), EA 208: 11 (mpu-hu-ru). 35 See Albright 1975, 102ff.; Redford 1992, 198ff.; Liverani 1998 / 1999, 37f.; Na’aman 2005, 228. 36 See Na’aman 1997, 21 on the possible mention of Sutean mercenaries in EA 190, lines 6–12 (collated): “[And you will li]sten to the words th[at I send/order you]: I will come to you w[ith? ...] my chariots and […] … And give order, and [go? and tak]e its mountain, with its 31


5.

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(...) ù us-s[ur-mi] [uru qì-id-]ši.ki ù us-su[r-mi] [uru ku-mi-]di.ki uru ma-sa-ar[-ti lugal]

Prot[ect Qade]š and pro[tect Kumi]di, the garrison city [of the king]. Bearing in mind the presence of Egyptian forces in the region,37 it is difficult to understand why the Egyptian authorities left the supposed arrest in the care of Sutean mercenaries. Even accepting that policing was generally carried out by native forces,38 the choice of Sutean mercenaries does not seem the best option, since police work was completely outside the traditional practices of the Sutean tribes. In my opinion, the choice of Sutean troops to undertake the operation registered in EA 122 / 123 gives us a hint as to the nature of that operation. Thus, bearing in mind the traditional practices of the Suteans, it seems more suitable to define the operation ordered by Pahura not as a police action but as a surprise military action with the aim of capturing those three men from Byblos. We can only speculate about the reasons that led Pahura to order the action, or about the development of the operation. Rainey’s interpretation seems correct when pointing out that Pahura’s deed was accepted by the pharaoh, since according to Rib-Adda the three prisoners were transferred to Egypt.39 However, this does not necessarily mean that the Suteans participated in a police action. Perhaps Pahura planned a surprise military action in order to avoid expected resistance within the city. It is also possible that the death of the šerdanu occurred during a confrontation prior to the capture of the three men. In any case, the possibility that the three men from Byblos were not arrested but captured is supported by the fact that unlike policing, kidnapping itself was a traditional practice among the Suteans. An Ugaritic letter from Ini-Tešub of Carchemish to Ammištamru II of Ugarit (RS 8.333 = PRU 3 7), refers to the kidnap of an individual carried out by the Suteans, who later released him for 50 silver shekels: 5.

[u]n-du lú dumu kin-ri-[k]a aš-šum ìr mna-na-a tàš-pu-ra ù lú [...] ša mtu-li-[š]a ù m[n]a-na-a iš-tu lú.meš sú-ti-i 10. a-na 50 gín kù.babbar ip-ta-tar-šu [W]hen you sent me [yo]ur messenger concerning the servant of Nanâ [...] of Tuli[š]a and [N]anâ have ransomed him from the hands of the Suteans for 50 shekels of silver. In my opinion, RS 8.333 may help us understand EA 122 / 123. Among other activities, the Suteans practised brigandage (kidnapping, assault, robbery), which implies a good knowledge of guerrilla warfare. This being so, it is likely that the authorities [Sut]u, with its [cApiru?] with [its …”. However, Liverani considers Na’aman’s translation of lines 6–12 to be too speculative (Liverani 1998 / 1999, 290 n. 15). 37 Rib-Adda referred to the presence of Egyptian troops in Byblos during the reigns of earlier pharaohs (EA 117, 121, 122, 125 and 130; see Klengel 1992, 99). 38 Weinstein 1998, 229; Martínez 2003, 143. 39 Rainey 2003, 195.

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who hired them as mercenaries, as Pahura did, gave them tasks that were well suited to their abilities. Suteans were not police officers but experts in guerrilla tactics, so Pahura probably ordered them not for police work but for an irregular military action. 5. Concluding Remarks The Amarna letters show that Suteans were hired as mercenaries, but provide scarce information on their military activities. Bearing in mind that nomadic tribes did not usually fight according to the complex rules of war, it seems admissible to suggest that Suteans only participated in battles in the open field as auxiliary troops, carrying out support tasks for the regular infantry and chariotry. However, it is reasonable to assume that the authorities also took advantage of Sutean expertise in guerrilla warfare. EA 122 / 123 provides a good example of this, documenting a surprise military action carried out by Sutean mercenaries that consisted in the capture of three men from Byblos. Pahura, who was very knowledgeable about Sutean abilities in this kind of action, chose them instead of regular forces in order to guarantee the success of this operation. Bibliography Albright, W. F., 1946: Cuneiform Material for Egyptian Prosopography, 1500–1200 B.C. JNES 5, 7–25. ― 1975: The Amarna Letters from Palestine. In: The Cambridge Ancient History (Vol. II, part II. Third Edition). Cambridge, 98–116. Astour, M. C., 1999: The àpiru in the Amarna Texts. Basic Points of Controversy. UF 31, 31–50. Beal, R. H., 1992: The Organisation of the Hittite Military. Heidelberg. Brinkman, J. A., 1968: A Political History of Post-Kassite Babylonia, 1158–722 B. C. Rome. Drews, R., 1993: The End of the Bronze Age. Changes in Warfare and the Catastrophe ca. 1200 B.C. Princeton. Duistermaat, K., 2007: The Pots and Potters of Assyria. Technology and organization of production, ceramic sequence, and vessel function at Late Bronce Age Tell Sabi Abyad, Syria (PhD dissertation). Leiden. Giveon, R., 1971: Les bédouins Shosou des documents égyptiens. Leiden. Götze, A., 1933: Die Annalen des Muršiliš. Leipzig. Güterbock, H. G., 1956: The Deeds of Šuppiluliuma as Told by His Son, Murili II. JCS 10, 41–68. Heimpel, W., 2003: Letters to the King of Mari. Winona Lake. Heltzer, M., 1981: The Suteans. Naples. Horowitz, W. / Oshima, T., 2006. Cuneiform in Canaan. Jerusalem. Khazanov, A. M., 1984: Nomads and the Outside World. Cambridge. Klengel, H., 1992: Syria: 3000 to 300 B.C.; a handbook of political history. Berlin. Kupper, J. R., 1957: Les nomades en Mésopotamie au temps des rois de Mari. Paris. Liverani, M., 1998 / 1999: Le lettere di el-Amarna (2 vols.). Brescia.


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― 2001: International Relations in the Ancient Near East, 1600–1100 BC. Houndmills. ― 2003: The Influence of Political Institutions on Trade in the Ancient Near East (Late Bronze to Early Iron Age). In C. Zaccagnini (ed.): Mercanti e politica nel Mondo Antico. Rome, 119–137. ― 2004: The Fate of Ashur-uballit’s Messengers in EA 16. In H. Waetzoldt (ed.): Von Sumer nach Ebla und Züruck. Heidelberg, 117–120. Llop, J., 2001: Aportació a l’estudi de les relacions polítiques i militars entre Assíria i Babilònia durant la segona meitat del segon mil·lenni a.C. (2 vols.) (PhD dissertation). Barcelona. Martínez, J., 2003: Historia Militar de Egipto durante la Dinastía XVIII. Barcelona. Na’aman, N., 1997: Amarna Notes. NABU 1997/1, 20–21. ― 2005: Canaan in the Second Millennium B.C.E. Winona Lake. Nashef, K., 1982: Die Orts- und Gewässernamen der mittelbabylonischen und mittelassyrischen Zeit. Wiesbaden. Rainey, A. F., 2003: Some Amarna Collations. In I. Ephcal / A. Ben-Tor / P. Machinist (eds.): Hayim and Miriam Tadmor Volume. Jerusalem, 192–202. Redford, D. B., 1990: Egypt and Canaan in the New Kingdom. Beer-Sheva. ― 1992: Egypt, Canaan, and Israel in Ancient Times. Princeton. Rowton, M. B., 1965: The Topological Factor in the Hapiru Problem. In H. G. Güterbock / T. Jacobsen (eds.): Studies in Honor of Benno Landsberger. Chicago, 375–387. ― 1974: Enclosed Nomadism. JESHO 17, 1–30. Schwartz, G. M., 1995: Pastoral Nomadism in Ancient Western Asia. In J. M. Sasson (ed.): Civilizations of the Ancient Near East (vol. I). New York, 249–258. Stillman, N. / Tallis, N., 1984: Armies of the Ancient Near East 3000 BC to 539 BC. Worthing. Van de Mieroop, M., 2007: The Eastern Mediterranean in the Age of Ramesses II. Malden. Vidal, J., 2006: La participación de tribus nómadas en el comercio internacional del Levant Mediterráneo durante el Bronce Reciente. AuOr 24, 127–133. ― 2006b: Ugarit at War (2). Military Equestrianism, Mercenaries, Fortifications and Single Combat. UF 38, 699–716. ― 2009: The Use of Military Standards by Old Babylonian Armies. Akkadica 130, 43–51. Weinstein, J. M., 1998: Egypt and the Levant in the Reign of Amenhotep III. In D. O’Connor / E. H. Cline (eds.): Amenhotep III. Perspectives on His Reign. Ann Arbor, 223–236. Yadin, Y., 1963: The Art of Warfare in Biblical Lands (2 vols.). London. Zadok, R., 1985: Suteans and Other West Semites During the Latter Half of the Second Millennium B.C. OLP 16, 56–70.

Barley from Ālu-ša-Sîn-rabi Chronological Reflections on an Expedition in the Time of Tukultī-Ninurta I (1233–1197 BC)1

Jaume Llop

1. Introduction The reign of Tukultī-Ninurta I (1233–1197 BC) was the high point of Assyrian expansion in the Middle Assyrian period. The Assyrian armies completed the conquest of Hanigalbat2 and furthermore conquered Babylonia.3 Tukultī-Ninurta had a new palace built in Assur, the old capital city of Assyria.4 He ordered construction work there in the temple of Ištar aššurittu,5 in the Sîn-Šamaš temple,6 in the Aššur temple7 and elsewhere. Moreover he founded a new administrative capital for the kingdom, called Kār-Tukultī-Ninurta, which was also to house Aššur, the Assyrian national god.8 It is no surprise that with so many projects, the need for resources was high. The Assyrian king had abundant manpower due to his deportation of conquered populations.9 However, this workforce had to be fed in order to carry out his projects and this meant a need for more barley. The tablets found by the German archaeologists at Kār-Tukultī-Ninurta (Tulūl alc Aqr, Iraq) in 1913–14, which belong to the reign of Tukultī-Ninurta I, include some documents stating the geographical origin of the barley that was distributed.10 In one group of texts, barley comes from the city of Tille (Tell Rumēlān?).11 These documents are dated to the eponymates of Abī-ilī son of Katiri and Ninuāiu. H. Freydank, 1

I would like to thank Helmut Freydank with whom I could discuss MARV 1, 1 IV 50f. Note: H. Freydank has announced the edition and analysis of the texts from Kār-Tukultī-Ninurta (MARV 4, p.8), which he published in cuneiform copy in MARV 4. This article is not an attempt to replace in any form Freydank’s transliteration, translation or commentary of some of the texts, which is awaited enthusiastically. 2 Harrak 1987, 206ff. 3 Llop 2001, 214–325. 4 RIMA 1, A.0.78.1–10 and 30. 5 RIMA 1, A.0.78.11–16. 6 RIMA 1, A.0.78.18. 7 RIMA 1, A.0.78. 26. 8 RIMA 1, A.0.78.22–25 and 35–37. 9 Garelli / Charpin / Durand 1982, 69–75; Galter 1988, 217–235. 10 To the tablets from Kār-Tukultī-Ninurta see Eickhoff 1985, 61–97; Freydank 1989, 61–67; Freydank / Fischer 2001, 10–14. 11 RGTC 5, 261; Parpola / Porter 2001, Gazetteer p. 17; Radner 2006, 53.

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who studied this group of texts, proposed that the distributed barley is connected with an expedition undertaken during the eponymate of Ninuāiu by the official InaAššur-šumī-asbat. As a consequence, the barley distributed in the eponymate of Abīilī, was the barley brought in by Ina-Aššur-šumī-asbat. On the basis of this information, H. Freydank proposed a sequence of eponyms: Ninuāiu → Abī-ilī.12 After the most recent reconstruction of the eponym list by W. Röllig and H. Freydank, both these eponyms should be dated to the 16th and 17th years of Tukultī-Ninurta.13 In the present article I propose a chronological framework for another group of documents from Kār-Tukultī-Ninurta (here abbreviated to KTN). The distributed barley mentioned in these texts came from another expedition in the time of TukultīNinurta I, to the city of Sîn-rabi, which was situated somewhere on the Tigris between Assur and Kalhu, possibly one day’s journey south of Kalhu.14 Based on the information from these documents, I propose a chronological framework for this expedition, and as a result I will try to date other events of Tukultī-Ninurta’s reign, which are mentioned in the documents associated with the barley from this expedition.15 2. References to “Barley from the City of Sîn-rabi” in Middle Assyrian Texts Barley from the city of Sîn-rabi is mentioned in the following documents dated in the eponymate of Etel-pî-Aššur son of Kurbānu: a) MARV 1, 1 (VAT 17999) and MARV 8, 51 (VAT 20231) MARV 1, 1 (VAT 17999) is a large Sammeltafel in four columns, dealing with the distribution of barley and published by H. Freydank. The first and fourth columns of the tablet are almost completely preserved, the second and third are quite damaged. At the end of the fourth column can be read: col. IV 48 ¯ŠU².NIGIN 8 lim 1 me 88 ANŠE 8 BÁN 7 1/2 qa ŠE i+na GIŠ.BÁN SUMUN 49 ša É.GAL-lì ša ŠU 1.dna-bi-um-EN-PAP 50 ša IŠ-TU URU-ša-1.d30-GAL URU.Ékar-me ša 1ki-din-dEN.LÍL 51 ¯na²-sa-an-ni … 48

Altogether 8188 emār 8 sūt 7½ qa of barley in the old sūtu-measure, belonging to the palace, in the charge of Nabû-bēla-usur, 50which 51was brought 50from the city of Sîn-rabi (and) the city-granary of Kidin-Enlil …16 49

The relationship between the “city of Sîn-rabi” and the “city-granary of Kidin-Enlil” is not clear, but they seem to be two different places from which the barley was brought. A city-granary of Kidin-Enlil is not known to me from any other published 12

Freydank 1991, 62. Röllig 2004, 18–51 with corrections by Freydank 2005, 45–56 and now Röllig, 2008, 4; but see Jakob 2003 pub. 2007, 107. 14 MARV 3, 1 I 8; see Llop 2002 and Faist 2006, 148. 15 See already Llop 2003a, 403 f. 16 For this translation see Freydank 1974, 71, followed by Faist 2006, 153 note 33. 13

Barley from Ālu-ša-Sîn-rabi

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Middle Assyrian text. H. Freydank pointed out to me that Kidin-Enlil could possibly be the masennu of the reign of Shalmaneser I (1264–1234 BC) after whom the citygranary of MARV 1, 1 was named.17 The distribution of barley in (the preserved columns of) MARV 1, 1 took place between the months of Ša kēnāte (IX) and Apu-šarrāni (XI). Possibly MARV 1, 1 was written at the end of the year (in the month of Apu-šarrāni, XI or Ḫibur, XII), but the exact date is broken off. The eponym in the date is damaged, but one can read:18 IV 61 [ITI.x UD.n.KÁM li-mu 1Etel-pî]-¯d²[a-š]ur DUMU 1kur-ba-ni Etel-pî-Aššur son of Kurbānu is also attested in MARV 4, 40: 18–19, which supports the reconstruction for the date in MARV 1, 1 IV 61; see also MARV 8, 51 below.19 The eponymate of Etel-pî-Aššur son of Kurbānu is to be dated to about the 13th year of the reign of Tukultī-Ninurta following the recent reconstruction of the eponym list by Röllig and Freydank (see also the table below) . MARV 1, 1 is a very interesting document, because it mentions the Babylonians (kaššiū) by name.20 In column I line 44'–45', they are defined as “Babylonian troops deported from Karduniaš, who are settled in the city of Kār-Tukultī-Ninurta“ (sābe kaššê ḫubte ša māt Karduniaš) which presupposes a campaign against Babylonia, possibly in this year. This campaign (ana ḫurādi ša māt Karduniaš) is explicitly mentioned in MARV 1, 1 IV 34, 38, 41. Moreover, construction work on the wall of Kār-Tukultī-Ninurta ([ša] dūri ša āli irsipūni) is also attested in MARV 1, 1 I 56'. The Hurrian workers (sābē šubrê) receiving barley as rations for this construction work are under the responsibility of an official called Šamaš-bēl-kēnāte.21 The second dated document, which mentions barley from the city of Sîn-rabi, is MARV 8, 51 (VAT 20231). This tablet deals with the distribution of rations of barley for donkeys: 1) KIŠIB 1mu-šal-lim-d[a-šur] (seal impression) 2) 20 ¯ANŠE ŠE² i+na GIŠ.BÁN <SUMUN> 3) ¯ša² É.GAL-lì 4) ša IŠ-TU URU-ša-1d30-GAL 5) iq-qa-al-pu-ú-ni 6) 1li-bur-za-nin-da-šur 7) ù 1síl-lí-dDI-ma-nu 8) qe-pu-te 9) i+na URU.kar-1GIŠ.TUKUL-ti17

Seal of Mušallim-Aššur 20 emār of barley in the old sūtu measure, belonging to the palace, which was brought downstream from the city of Sîn-rabi, that Libūr-zānin-Aššur and Silli-Salmānu, the representatives, received in the city of Kār-Tukultī-Ninurta;

See MARV 5, 85: 11’ f. and MARV 9, 71: 3 (as yet unpublished), following H. Freydank (personal communication). 18 See already Freydank 1991, 136. 19 For the date of these three documents, i.e. the eponymate of Etel-pî-Aššur, see already Freydank 1991, 136. 20 Col. I 21', 32', 41', 42', 44'; col. IV 4, 6, 8, 15, 22, 24, 58. 21 Probably the same official in charge of Hurrian workers is attested in MARV 1, 27 dated in the Eponymate of Aššur-zēra-iddina.

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N[IN.URTA] 10) im-ḫu-ru-ni 11) IŠ-TU ka-ru-e 12) na-še-er 13) a-na PAD-at 1 me ANŠE.ME 14) ša KASKAL-ni ša ŠU 1i-ma-ra-[ie] 15) DUMU DÙG.GA-¯mil-ki²-a-bi 16) ša sa-ri-a-ni 17) ¯x x x x² LUGAL 18) a-na na-ša-e-ni 19) a-na 1¯mu-šal²-lim-da-šur 20) ¯DUMU 1ku²-si-pì 21) ša UGU ANŠE.MEŠ 22) ša 10 UD.MEŠ 2 qa.TA.ÀM 23) up-¯pu²-uš ta-din 24) [ITI].mu-ḫur-DINGIR.M[EŠ] UD.28.K[ÁM] 25) li-mu 1e-tel-pi-i-da-š[ur]

(the barley) has been removed from the grain-heap; for the ration of one hundred caravandonkeys in the charge of Imarāiu son of Tāb-milki-abi, which the armour … the king to bring; it is calculated and given to Mušallim-Aššur son of Kusippu, (the official) in charge of the donkeys, for ten days, two litres each. Month of Muḫḫur-ilāni, 28th day, eponym: Etel-pî-Aššur.

MARV 8, 51 is dated to the eponymate of Etel-pî-Aššur. It is no coincidence that both MARV 1, 1 and MARV 8, 51 mention barley from the city of Sîn-rabi. As H. Freydank has already pointed out, the process documented in MARV 8, 51 is the same as in MARV 1, 1 IV 42–43: 42) 20 ANŠE ŠE 1mu-šal-lim-da-šur DUMU ku-si-pì qe-pu 43) a-na PAD-at ANŠE MEŠ ša sa-ri-a-ni iš-ši-ú-ni im-ta-ḫar 42

20 emār of barley Mušallim-Aššur, son of Kusippu, the representative, has received for the rations of the donkeys, which brought the armour.22

43

Barley from the city of Sîn-rabi occurs also in following documents, where the date is broken off: b) MARV 4, 27 (18058); MARV 4, 30 (VAT 18068) and MARV 8, 4 (VAT 20231) At the beginning of MARV 4, 27 (VAT 18058) it is stated that the distributed barley was brought from the city of Sîn-rabi: 1) 74 ANŠE 5 BÁN ŠE i+na GIŠ.BÁN ša ḫi-bur-¯ni² 2) ša É.GAL-lì i+na ŠÀ-be ¯1?² lim ANŠE ŠE 3) ša URU. ¯ša²-1d30-GAL ¯x x x x x² 4) ša 1da-šur-i-din DUMU ÌRDINGIR.MEŠ-ni 5) ù 1mu-šal-lim-dAMAR.UTU DUMU d NUSKU-re-ma-¯ni²

22

Freydank 1974, 71; Postgate 2000, 97.

74 emār 5 sūt of barley (measured) by the sūtu of the ḫiburnu(-house), belonging to the palace, from the one thousand emār of barley from the city of Sîn-rabi ..., (barley) which Aššur-iddin son of Uradilāni and Mušallim-Marduk son of Nuskurēmanni


6) (erased) iš-ši-ú-né-ni 7) ša ŠU 1dUTU-EN-ke-na-te ša SAG ¯LUGAL² 8) 1KAR-da-šur (erased) ÌR LUGAL 9) ù qe-pu-te ša il-te-šu-nu 10) a-na PAD-at 1 me 19? ÉRIN.MEŠ ša le-e ša LUGAL 11) 1 me 76 ša le-e ša 1lu-la-¯ie² 12) 1 me 47 ¯ša le-e² ša 1d30-[SAG] 13) ¯1 me 13²[+n] ¯ša² le-e ša 1[Šamašaḫa-iddina (?)] 14) [ ša] le-e ša 1[ xxx] 15) [ ] x [ ] 16) [ UR]U.ŠÀ-biURU x [ x x ] 17) [ ] ŠU ¯x x x x (x)² 18) x [ x x n +]14 ÉRIN.MEŠ ša le-a-ni 19) ¯lu?² pa-ni-ú-te ¯ù² lu-ú ur-ki-ú-¯te² 20) ša IŠ-TU pi-ti 1PAP-nam-kurLUGAL 21) i-tu-ru-né-ni ša i+na UGU LUGAL 22) [a-n]a ḫu-ra-di ša KUR su-ḫi il-liku-ni 23) ¯x² ÉRIN.MEŠ an-nu-tu a-na ma‰a-ar-te 24) [ša] URU.kar-1GIŠ.TUKUL-tid NIN.URTA ¯ta-e-ra-ni? x x² 25) [ú?]-ta-e-ra-šu-nu-{né}-ni 26) [si-qu]r-ra-ta ù É.GAL-la 27) [i+na URU.kar-1.]GIŠ. [TUKUL]-tid NIN.URTA ir-si-p[u-n]i 28) 1 BÁN.TA.[ÀM ana] PAD-šu-nu ša 10 UD.MEŠ 29) ša IŠ-T[U ITI.a]-p[u-LU]GAL.MEŠ UD.23.KÁM 30) [a-di ITI.Ḫibur UD.n+]3?.KÁM tadin 1 31) [ .ÌR?]-DINGIR.MEŠ-ni 32) [ ]ú [ (x) ] ¯x x x² 33) [ x x ] 1.[d.3]0-Š[U]-a-ni DUB.SAR qe-pu id-d[i]-nu 34) ITI.a-p[u-LUGAL.MEŠ UD.n.KÁM]

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brought, in the charge of Šamaš-bēl-kēnāte, the eunuch of the king, Ē˜ir/Šuzub-Aššur, the servant of the king, and the representatives, who (were) with them, for the rations of 119 troops from the tablet of the king 176 from the tablet of Lullāiu 147 from the tablet of Sîn-ašarēd [ n ] from the tablet of [Šamaš-aḫaiddina (?)] [ n ] from the tablet of [ ] [ ]…[ ] [ ]Libbi-āli [ ]… [ n]+14 troops from the tablets either the early or the late ones; who came back from the sphere of responsibility of Usur-namkūr-šarri; who went with the king to the campaign against the land of Suhu; … these troops to the garrison of Kār-Tukultī-Ninurta … whom he sent back; who built the siqqurutu and the palace in Kār-Tukutī-Ninurta, one sūtu each as their ration for ten days is given, from the 23rd of Apu-šarrāni until the n of [Ḫibur] [ Urad]-ilāni [ ]… [and] Sîn-gimlanni, the scribe and representative gave. Month of Apu-[šarrāni, n day], eponym: [ ]

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35) li-mu 1[

Jaume Llop

]

This document informs us that Aššur-iddin son of Urad-ilāni and Mušallim-Marduk son of Nusku-rēmanni were the officials responsible for the transportation of barley from the city of Sîn-rabi to KTN. A fragmentary document with almost the same layout as MARV 4, 27 is MARV 4, 30 (VAT 18068): (Seal impression) 1) 1 šu-ši 9 ANŠE 8 BÁN ŠE i+na GIŠ.BÁN [SUMUN?] 2) ša É.GAL-lì ša ŠÀ 1 lim ANŠE [ŠE] 3) ša IŠ-TU URU-ša-1d30-GAL 4) 1da-šur-i-din [DUMU ÌRDINGIR].MEŠ-ni 5) ¯ù 1mu-šal²-[lim-dAMAR.UTU] DUMU dNUSKU-re-[ma-ni] 6) LÚ.DUB.SAR iš-ši-ú-né-ni 7) [ša] ŠU 1dUTU-EN-ke-na-te ša SAG ¯LUGAL² 8) [1KAR]-da-šur DUMU ta-na ÌR LUGAL 9) [ù] qe-pu-¯te² ša il-¯te²-šu-nu 10) [a-na PAD-at n ] ÉRIN.MEŠ ša le-e š[a LUGAL]

69 emār 8 sūtu of barley, (measured) by the [old?] sūtu, belonging to the palace, from the one thousand emār [of barley], which Aššuriddin [son of Urad-ilāni] and Mušallim[Marduk] son of Nusku-rēmanni, the scribe, brought from the city of Sîn-rabi; in the charge of Šamaš-bēl-kēnāte, the eunuch of the king, [Ē˜ir/Šuzub]-Aššur son of Tana, the servant of the king, [and] the representatives who (were) with them, [for the ration of n] troops from the tablet of the king,

broken

15') [ UR]U.ŠÀ-bi-U[RU ] 16') [ ] PAN? x [ ] 17') [ ] áš-šu-ra-a-ie mu-nab-di 18') [ša i+na (?)] KUR kar-du-ni-áš inna-bi-[du]-¯né-ni² 19') [ n+] 38 ša ù-radi 20') [ša i+na UGU] LUGAL a-na ùra-di ša KUR ¯su-hi² 21') [illikūni] IŠ-TU URU.né-ma[dd U+DAR] 22') [ana URU.k]ar-1GIŠ.TUKUL-tid [NIN.URTA] 23') [ú-t]a-e-ra-šu-nu-ni si-qur-[ra-ta] 24') [ù] É.GAL-la i+na URU.kar1 GIŠ.TUKUL-ti-d[NIN.URTA] 25') [ir]-‰i-pu-¯ni² 1 BÁN ŠE TA.ÀM ana PAD-š[u-nu] 26') [ša] IŠ-TU ITI. ¯ì-bur² UD.3.KÁM a-di UD.12.KÁM

[…] Libbi-āli […] […] … […] […] Assyrians, fugitives, [who] fled [from?] Babylonia [ … n+]38 of the soldiers who [went] with the king on the campaign against the land of Suhu; whom he sent back from Nēmād-[Ištar] [to] Kār-Tukultī-Ninurta; (who) built the siqurrutu and the palace in Kār-Tukultī-Ninurta, (they gave them) one sūtu of barley each for their ration from the 3rd to to the 12th of the month of …ibur, for ten days by the order of the king, Aššur-iddin son of Urad-ilāni […] … […] … […]


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27') [a-na] 10 UD.MEŠ ¯a-na² a-bat LUGAL (erased) 28') ¯1a-šur-i-din² DUMU ¯ÌRDINGIR.MEŠ-ni² 29') [ ] x [ ] 30') li?-mu? 1? ¯x x x² [ ] The processes documented in MARV 4, 27 and MARV 4, 30 are not attested in the remaining wording of MARV 1, 1, hypothetically because they were written late in the year, possibly at the same time that MARV 1, 1 was written: note the mention of the months Apu-šarrāni (XI) in MARV 4, 27: 29.34 and Ḫibur (XII) in MARV 4, 30: 26'. It is less likely that the distribution of barley in these last two documents was mentioned in the broken columns of MARV 1, 1, because column IV, the final column, deals with Apu-šarrāni (XI). Because the remaining wording of MARV 8, 4 (VAT 20231) is similar to MARV 4, 27 and MARV 4, 30, it is possible that the barley mentioned in this tablet also came from the city of Sîn-rabi. In fact, this place name can be reconstructed in line 2' of this tablet (see below).23 However MARV 8, 4 is too badly damaged to provide more information: [n ANŠE ŠE ina GIŠ.BÁN ] 1') [ša É.GAL-lì ša ŠÀ 1 lim ANŠE ŠE] 2') ša I[Š-TU URU.ša 1d30-GAL] 3') [( )] da-š[ur-i-din mār Urad-ilāni] 4') ù 1mu-š[al-lim-Marduk mār Nuskurēmanni] 5') LÚ.qe-[pu-tu] 6') iš-ši-ú-né-ni [ ] 7') ub-lu-ú [ ] 8') ša ŠU 1dUTU-EN-[kēnāte ša rēš šarri] 1 9') SU-d[ ] 10') ù[ ] 11'–15") broken 16") [ ]x[ ] 17") [ x ] x MEŠ x x [ ] 18") ŠU.NÍGIN 1 ME 30 x [ ] 19") ša 17 UD.MEŠ [ ] 20")1 ME 30 UD? M[E? ] 21") 4 DUB x [ ] 22") ù 4 [ ] 23") ŠU.NÍGIN [ ]

[n emār of barley, in the … sūtu] [belonging to the palace, from the one thousand emār ] [of barley, which] Aššur-iddin [son of Urad-ilāni] and Mušallim-Marduk [son of Nuskurēmanni], the representatives, brought [from the city of Sîn-rabi]; they carried […] in the charge of Šamaš-bēl-kēnāte, the eunuch of the king], Erīb-[…] and […] […] […] […] altogether 130 … for 17 days… 130… 4 … […] and … […] altogether…

broken

The three documents mentioned above have a similar arrangement. This is more 23

I follow the line numbering used by Freydank, though it is obvious from the reconstruction of the text that one more line should be added at the beginning of the text.

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noticeable for MARV 4, 27 and 30, which are better preserved than MARV 8, 4. MARV 4, 27 and 30. They are also interesting because they mention troops “who went with the king on a campaign to the land of Suhu“ (ša ina muḫḫi šarri ana ḫurādi ša māt Sūḫi illikūni, MARV 4, 27: 21–22 and MARV 4, 30: 20'–21').24 Moreover they both refer to construction work being done in KTN: “troops … (who) build the siqqurrutu and the palace of Kār-Tukultī-Ninurta” (sābē … siqurrata u ekalla ina Kār-Tukultī-Ninurta irsipūni, MARV 4, 27: 26–27 and MARV 4, 30: 23'– 24').25 It is also interesting that in both documents the person responsible for the barley is Šamaš-bēl-kēnāte, the eunuch of the king (MARV 4, 27: 7, MARV 4, 30: 7, see also MARV 8, 4: 8'); probably the same person mentioned in MARV 1, 1 I 56' as being responsible for the Hurrian troops working on the construction of the wall of KTN (see above). In MARV 4, 30: 17' f., “… fugitive Assyrians, who fled from (?) Karduniaš” ([…] aššurāiē munnabdī [ša ina (?)] māt Karduniaš innabiddūnenni) are also mentioned in a broken context, which fits in very well with the events described in MARV 1, 1 IV 32–34, when returning troops from Karduniaš are being resupplied.26 In these documents, the barley comes from the city of Sîn-rabi, most of the construction work mentioned is being done in KTN and the effects of a campaign against Babylonia occurs in most of them. All this makes me suggest that the five documents mentioned above were written in the same period, i.e. the eponymate of Etel-pî-Aššur son of Kurbānu. There is, of course, no absolute certainty that the barley brought from the city of Sîn-rabi mentioned in MARV 1, 1 and MARV 8, 51 is the same as in MARV 4, 27 and 30, if there had been more than one expedition to that city to fetch barley to KTN. However, as far as I know, there is no other mention of barley coming from the city of Sîn-rabi in the rest of the documentation found in KTN or from the whole Middle Assyrian period. Only one fact seems to be against dating the four documents in the same year of Etel-pî-Aššur: whereas the construction work in KTN mentioned in MARV 1, 1 is on the wall, the work mentioned in MARV 4, 27 and 30 takes place in the siqqurrutu and the palace. Building activity at KTN is also mentioned in MARV 2, 17, a tablet which names the eponymates of Abī-ilī and Salmānu-šuma-usur. But in this tablet there is no sign of a campaign either against Babylonia or against Suhu. Moreover, it is explicitly stated there that the king led a campaign against Hanigalbat (MARV 2, 17: 110). Nevertheless, a campaign against Babylonia is mentioned in MARV 4, 34: 18', which is dated in the eponymate of Abī-ilī (Bēlat ekalli, VII). For this eponymate we would have a campaign against Babylonia as well as construction work at KTN as in MARV 1, 1. While it is not impossible that the king conducted two campaigns in the same year (Eponymate of Abī-ilī)—one against Babylonia earlier in the year and a second against Hanigalbat later in the year or at the beginning of the next (Eponymate of Salmānu-šuma-usur)—there is no sign of barley from the city of Sîn-rabi in MARV 2, 17. This is why MARV 4, 27 and 30 fit better with the circumstances described in MARV 1, 1 than with those reflected in 24

See already Freydank 1991a, 30 note 10. Ibid. 26 Freydank 1974, 71. 25


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MARV 2, 17. If the barley from the city of Sîn-rabi named in MARV 1, 1 and MARV 8, 51 is the same as in MARV 4, 27 and MARV 4, 30, these two last documents should be dated in the eponymate of Etel-pî-Aššur son of Kurbānu. With the information available, it can be proposed that these four documents were written in this same eponymate. Of course, this proposal can be invalidated at any time by the appearance of further information about the expedition to the city of Sîn-rabi. Other occurrences of Ālu-ša-Sîn-rabi can be found in the following tablets from KTN: c) MARV 4, 50 (VAT 18172) and MARV 4, 143 (VAT 18067) MARV 4, 50 is a fragment of a tablet, possibly a debt, on the reverse of which (line 4') the city of Sîn-rabi ([…UR]U.d30-GAL[…]) is named in a very broken context.27 MARV 4, 143 is also a fragment of a tablet, where the city of Sîn-rabi is named between KTN and Abilāte in a very broken context.28 The city of Sîn-rabi is also mentioned in other Middle Assyrian texts that were discussed in Llop 2002, although they have no direct relevance for the expedition to that city which is the subject of the present article. 3. Chronological Consequences In the previous section, I have tried to show that MARV 1, 1 – MARV 8, 51 and MARV 4, 27 – MARV 4, 30 belong to the same year, that is the year of the eponymate of Etel-pî-Aššur son of Kurbānu. This fact has chronological consequences for the events of the reign of Tukultī-Ninurta I, which have to be taken into consideration. The campaign of Tukultī-Ninurta I against Suhu mentioned in MARV 4, 27 and 30 would have taken place during the eponymate of Etel-pî-Aššur son of Kurbānu. The same applies to the campaign against Babylonia (Karduniaš) mentioned in MARV 1, 1:29 Text MARV 1, 1

Month Ša kēnāte (IX) Apu-šarrāni (XI)

MARV 4, 27 and 30

Apu-šarrāni (XI) and Ḫibur (XII)

Events mentioned Deported Babylonians in KTN; work on the wall of KTN. Troops who went with the king on a campaign against Babylonia (Karduniaš). Troops who went with the king on a campaign against Suhu; work on the siqurrutu and on the palace of KTN.

Two unanswered questions remain: in which month of the year did these campaigns take place and were they conducted in parallel or separately? Given that control of 27

MARV 4, 50 rev. 4'. MARV 4, 143 rev. 12'. 29 Cf. Cancik-Kirschbaum 2008, 97–98. 28

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the middle Euphrates was a strategic necessity for the conquest of Babylonia, as I have tried to show elsewhere,30 and that activity east of the Tigris, based on available information, seems to be later than the eponymate of Etel-pî-Aššur,31 it is possible that both events were directly related. If we arrange the known events in relation to the campaigns of Tukultī-Ninurta against Babylonia in chronological order, we obtain the following chart for years 13 and following of his reign: Eponymate32 Etel-pî-Aššur (son of Kurbānu)

Usur-namkūr-šarri Aššur-zēra-iddina

Events in the Babylonian politics of Tukultī-Ninurta Kassites deported from Karduniaš and a campaign (ḫurādu) against Karduniaš (MARV 1, 1) Campaign against Suhu and Assyrians fleeing from (?) Karduniaš (MARV 4, 27 und 30) Kassites (deported) (KAJ 106 [I]); Kassites (deported) from Karduniaš after two campaigns? (ḫarranāte) (KAJ 103 [V]); flocks removed from Karduniaš (MARV 1, 27 [III])

Aššur-mušabši Ina-Aššur-šumī-asbat (son of Aššur-nādin-šumi)

Capture of Kaštiliaš IV (RIMA 1, A.0.78.6); a Kassite king in Assyria (BATSH 4, 10: 34, without eponymate); Lubdu under siege (BATSH 4, 11: 7; 12: 5–6)

Aššur-bēl-ilāni

Royal inscription does not mention Babylonia (RIMA 1, A.0.78.18)

Ninuāiu Abī-ilī

Salmānu-šuma-usur

Qarrād-Aššur son of Aššur-iddin

30

Campaign against Karduniaš (MARV 4, 34); Šelenāiū (MARV 2, 17; 4, 145); Arraphaeans (MARV 2, 17 + 4, 171) Šelenāiū and Arraphaeans (MARV 2, 17 + 4, 171; MARV 1, 5) Tribute from Zamban (MARV 1, 9 + 3, 17)

Llop 2001, 283–293; Llop 2003, 204–210. Llop in press. 32 Eponym sequence after Jakob 2003 pub. 2007, 107, with insertion of the texts discussed in this article. 31


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4. Conclusions Barley from the city of Sîn-rabi is attested in two dated Middle Assyrian documents from KTN: MARV 1, 1 and MARV 8, 51. Both are dated in the eponymate of Etelpî-Aššur son of Kurbānu. In addition, barley from the city of Sîn-rabi occurs in three documents with the date missing: MARV 4, 27; MARV 4, 30 and MARV 8, 4. Due to the appearance of the clause: “barley from the city of Sîn-rabi” in all these documents and on the supposition that there was only one expedition to bring barley from this city, I propose to place these undated documents also in the eponymate of Etel-pî-Aššur. This chronological framework for MARV 4, 27 and MARV 4, 30 means that both the campaigns of Tukultī-Ninurta I against Suhu and Babylonia mentioned in these documents possibly took place in the same year (Eponymate of Etel-pî-Aššur son of Kurbānu). Bibliography Cancik-Kirschbaum, E. C., 1996: Die Mittelassyrischen Briefe aus Tall Šeḫ Hamad. Berlin. ― 2008: Emar aus der Perspektive Assurs im 13. Jh. v. Chr. In L. d’Alfonso / Y. Cohen / D. Sürenhagen (eds.): The City of Emar among the Late Bronze Age Empires. History, Landscape, and Society. Proceedings of the Konstanz Emar Conference, 25.–26.04.2006. Münster. Pp. 91–99. Ebeling, E., 1927: Keilschrifttexte aus Assur juristischen Inhalts. Leipzig. Eickhoff, T., 1985: Kār Tukulti Ninurta. Eine mittelassyrische Kult- und Residenzstadt. Berlin. Faist, B., 2006: Itineraries and travellers in the Middle Assyrian Period. SAAB 15, 147–160. Freydank, H., 1974: Zwei Verpflegungstexte aus Kār-Tukultī-Ninurta. AoF 1, 55– 89. ― 1976: Mittelassyrische Rechtsurkunden und Verwaltungstexte. Berlin. ― 1982: Mittelassyrische Rechtsurkunden und Verwaltungstexte II. Berlin. ― 1989: Die Tontafelfunde der Grabungskampagne 1913–1914 aus Kār-TukultīNinurta (Tulūl al-cAqar). AoF 16, 61–67. ― 1991: Beiträge zur mittelassyrischen Chronologie und Geschichte. Berlin. ― 1991a: Zum mittelassyrischen Königsbrief KBo XXVIII 61–64. AoF 18, 23–31. ― 1994: Mittelassyrische Rechtsurkunden und Verwaltungstexte III. Berlin. ― 2005: Zu den Eponymenfolgen des 13. Jahrhunderts v. Chr. in Dūr-Katlimmu. AoF 32, 45–56. Freydank, H. / Feller, B., 2004: Mittelassyrische Rechtsurkunden und Verwaltungstexte V. Saarwellingen. ― 2007 pub. 2008: Mittelassyrische Rechtsurkunden und Verwaltungstexte VIII. Wiesbaden. ― in press: Mittelassyrische Rechtsurkunden und Verwaltungstexte IX. Wiesbaden. Freydank, H. / Fischer, C., 2001: Mittelassyrische Rechtsurkunden und Verwaltungstexte IV. Tafeln aus Kār-Tukultī-Ninurta. Saarbrücken. Galter, H., 1988: 28.800 Hethiter. JCS 40, 217–235. Garelli, P. / Charpin, D. / Durand, J. M., 1982: Rôle des prisonniers et des déportés à l’époque médio-assyrienne. In H. Klengel (ed.): Gesellschaft und Kultur im alten

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Vorderasien. Berlin. Pp. 69–75. Grayson, A. K., 1987: Assyrian Rulers of the Third and Second Millennia BC (to 1115 BC). Toronto / Buffalo / London. Harrak, A., 1987: Assyria and Hanigalbat. A Historical Reconstruction of Bilateral Relations from the Middle of the Fourteenth to the End of the Twelfth Centuries BC. Hildesheim / Zürich / New York. Jakob, S., 2003 pub. 2007: Diplomaten in Assur – Alltag oder Anzeichen für eine internationale Krise? In P. Miglus / J. M. Córdoba (eds.): Assur und sein Umland. Im Andenken an die ersten Ausgräber von Assur. Madrid. Pp. 103–114. Llop, J., 2001: Aportació a l’estudi de les relacions polítiques i militars entre Assíria i Babilònia durant la segona meitat del segon millenni a.C. (Contribution to the Study of the Political and Military Relationship Between Assyria and Babylonia in the Second Half of the Second Millennium BC), http://www.tdx.cat/TDX0529102-113226. Barcelona. ― 2002: Ein weiterer Beleg für den mA Ortsnamen Ša-Sîn-rabi. NABU, note 35. ― 2003: Die persönlichen Gründe Tiglat-Pilesers I., Babylonien anzugreifen. Orientalia 72, 204–210. ― 2003a: Review of Freydank 2001. BiOr 60, 399–407. ― in press: The Boundary between Assyria and Babylonia in the East Tigris Region During the Reign of Tukultī-Ninurta I (1233–1197 BC). In P. Miglus (ed.): Between the cultures. The Central Tigris Region in Mesopotamia from the 3rd to the 1st Millennium BC. Colloquium at Heidelberg, 22.-24.01.2009. Heidelberg. Nashef, K., 1982: Die Orts- und Gewässernamen der mittelbabylonischen und mittelassyrischen Zeit. Wiesbaden. Parpola, S. / Porter, M. (eds.), 2001: The Helsinki Atlas of the Near East in the NeoAssyrian Period. Helsinki. Postgate, J. N., 2000: The Assyrian Army in Zamua. Iraq 62, 89–108. Radner, K., 2006: Provinz. C. Assyrien, RlA 11, 42–68. Röllig, W., 2004: Eponymen in den mittelassyrischen Dokumenten aus Tall Šēḫ Hamad/Dūr-Katlimmu. ZA 94, 18–51. ― 2008: Land- und Viehwirtschaft am unteren Ḫābūr in mittelassyrischer Zeit. Wiesbaden.

Assyrian Open Field Battles An Attempt at Reconstruction and Analysis

Davide Nadali

1. Introduction Neo-Assyrian warfare has been broadly investigated in past scholarship usually focusing on the composition of the Assyrian armies (studies of the units and weapons) and in more recent essays that paid particular attention to the strategy of the Assyrians against their enemies according to the nature of the territory (difficulties of the terrain, different geography and landscape where the Assyrian army operated) as well as the behaviour of the confronted enemy. When reading the Assyrian inscriptions and studying the bas-reliefs depictions, one could claim that the Assyrian army usually confronted the enemies in siege operations, trying thus to avoid a direct confrontation in an open field battle. However, there are a few examples of pitched battles described in the royal inscriptions and depicted on the bas-relief in the royal palaces. The present analysis considers those few examples analyzing them together in a single study with the more commonly-represented and well-known siege procedures and thus aiming at a reconstruction of the Assyrian warfare both tactically (which units and corps were mostly employed) and strategically (how the units and corps acted in an open space). 2. Evidence in the Inscriptions and on the Bas-Relief As shown in her essay published in 1997, JoAnn Scurlock analysed four open field battles, dating from Sargon II to Assurbanipal, using the inscriptions of the Assyrian kings. Other examples of pitched battles can be documented in the Assyrian written accounts,1 and sometimes a correspondence with the bas-reliefs can even be established. However, descriptions in the texts are often very schematic and a reference to a pitched battle fought by the Assyrian army is not always so clear and straightforward. Actually, descriptions of open field confrontations between the Assyrian army and enemy forces often occur before or after the report of a siege. Thus, on one hand, the operations of open field battles can also be interpreted as the approaching march of the Assyrian army to the cities to be conquered or, on the other hand, the inscriptions may describe collateral actions of the Assyrian army next to the main action of assault of an enemy’s fortified settlement. It thus seems that, when possible, the 1

Eph‘al 1983, 91–96.

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Assyrians did not choose to confront their enemies in open field battles, confining the direct confrontation to occasional brief field operations. Thus, it may be assumed that representations and descriptions of pitched battle occur together with siege operations, and the small number of representations and written accounts of open field battles is more of an obligation of a battlefield report than a strategy of the Assyrian army, when the army accepted the challenge of the enemy. At the same time, the positive outcome of pitched battles in the inscriptions is sometimes dubious. Two examples suffice: the open field confrontation of Shalmaneser III with the Syrian coalition in the military campaigns to the West and Sennacherib’s battle at the Halule against the king of Babylon and his Elamite allies.2 Bas-relief, because of its nature, is more explicit than inscriptions in representing open field battles. Images of Assyrian soldiers, in all their components and units (infantry, cavalry and chariotry), are depicted while fighting against the enemy in open spaces. Fortified settlements are lacking or are represented perfunctorily as part of the “stage set” that illustrates the story of a particular event in the total campaign. Inscriptions use a general phraseology that I suppose it can imply or refer to a pitched battle. References to a siege are totally absent (or, like the bas-relief, they are part of a larger event that includes a pitched battle) and the generic words “to wage (epēšu) war (kakku) and battle (tāhāzu)” are used in both the royal accounts and the queries.3 This wording can be interpreted as a general and generic reference to a fight that involves nearly all the components of the Assyrian army and is different from the siege, where the description of attack, employment of war machines, construction of ramps and other siege devices commonly occur.4 Starting from Scurlock’s analysis5 of the specific tactics used by the Assyrians and their enemies in open field battles, I would like to review and analyze the representations of pitched battles in the Neo-Assyrian period. Actually, the specific reference to an episode of the royal account is particularly useful. Besides the possibility of a geographical identification to decode the depictions, particularly in what concerns the choice of the tactics and the development of the battle, the geographical setting of a depicted episode combined with a literary description can serve as a way to explain the choice of fighting an open field battle instead of other military solutions. Moreover, the written accounts sometimes give the precise reason of the direct confrontation in open terrain. 3. The Arrangement of the Troops on the Battlefield Starting from the accounts of the royal inscriptions and the depictions of open field battles on the bas-reliefs, two questions concerning the tactics in the fight arise: which units and corps were arranged for the battle? How do those units and corps act in open terrain? Even though there is little information about pitched battles in the Neo-Assyrian sources, both written and representational, it is still possible to reconstruct the mili2

Grayson 1965, 342; Eph‘al 1983, 92; Scurlock 1997, 509–516. Lastly, see Fales in press. Starr 1990; Eph‘al 1997. 4 The siege devices to conquer an enemy city are well codified and enlisted in the queries (Starr 1990). 5 Scurlock 1997. 3

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tary activity of the Assyrian army because the examples of pitched battle scenes document the use of cavalry and chariotry next to the infantry, usually the main core of the Assyrian army. Compared to the most widespread representations of sieges, where the diverse corps of the infantry (spearmen, archers, and sappers) operate besieging and undermining the fortified settlements of the enemy by means of a direct attack and the use of battering rams,6 the pitched battle scenes give an overall image of the Assyrian army in action in all its entirety, including chariotry and cavalry. Information about the use of chariots and horses in the fight mostly comes from the 9th and 8th centuries BC, from Assurnasirpal II to Sargon II. Images from the times of those kings show the arrangement of chariotry and cavalry during battles in open terrain. Chariots and cavalry pursue the enemy. It is difficult to figure out the initial display of those units before the battle, since bas-relief depict those components of the Assyrian army during the attack: chariots and cavalry are represented in the middle of the fight crossing the battlefield rapidly. The order of march of the Assyrian army, as shown in Sennacherib’s bas-reliefs, might suggest that chariots and cavalry usually occupied the rear of the columns of soldiers. It is possible that cavalry also proceeded beside the wings of the columns so that they could easily move along the flanks, reach the front and rear of the army quickly and even patrol the territory preceding the arriving of the infantry.7 It is reasonable to think that, when the use of chariots and cavalry was required, the disposition for the battle changed according to the situation and the terrain. As we will see later in the analysis of some pitched battles, chariotry and cavalry are used in open terrain to attack the enemies shooting without delay and dispersing the enemy infantry coalition that is finally annihilated by the intervention of the Assyrian infantry in hand-to-hand fights. At first, Assyrian chariotry and cavalry weaken the enemy phalanxes with careful and even elegant strategic manoeuvres of encirclement and outflanking;8 then, the Assyrian foot soldiers meticulously complete the defeat of the enemy. At the same time, chariotry and cavalry intervene to respond to the enemy attack of chariots and horses: Assyrian bas-reliefs, in fact, show direct confrontation in open terrain between Assyrian and enemy chariots and horses.9 Examples show the pursuing of the enemy chariots by the Assyrian chariotry and cavalry.10 4. What Pictures show Images of Neo-Assyrian kings in battle give practical examples of the pitched battles described in the inscriptions. The siege accounts reproduce a schematic description of the actions. Actually, the absence of the usual siege terminology in the texts might 6

On the role of sappers during the siege of fortified settlements, see in particular the detailed study by De Backer 2007 for what concerns the bas-reliefs depictions. 7 Nadali 2005, 175, Figs. 1–2. 8 See Scurlock 1997. 9 See for example the images on Band O of the Balawat bronze gates of Shalmaneser III (Schachner 2007, Taf. 16). 10 As depicted on slabs 4a–3a of Assurnasirpal II’s throne room at Nimrud (Meuszyński 1981, Taf. 2).

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be understood as a reference to a pitched battle. Nothing is precisely said about the strategy and tactics of the Assyrian army when confronting the enemies in open terrain. This kind of information can also be deduced by the depictions of open field battles, that is to say, which units of the Assyrian army were used, their time of intervention and the combination of multiple attacks. Sometimes, specific and explicit references to military operations that are then translated into images are given. The possibility to link the representations of pitched battles to written accounts is particularly useful, since the geographical setting of an event can explain the type of strategy used by the Assyrian army. Although not explicitly stated, the choice of confronting the enemy in open terrain implies special conditions: the geographical conditions where the battle has to be fought, or the enemy’s intimate knowledge of their own territory.11 Thus it would seem that the Assyrian army resorts to pitched battle only when strictly necessary and unavoidable, either because it is the only way to achieve the victory or to reply to enemy’s military plan. However, I believe that written accounts do testify more extensively to the existence of pitched battles, even though the sculptors depict only a few examples preferring the representations of sieges. It is not clear why Assyrian sculptors favoured and focused on the siege representations: were the sieges easier to depict than an open field battles? It is noteworthy that written accounts referring to pitched battle often report, in the same event, the conquest of the enemy’s fortified settlement by means of a siege. Thus, it could be inferred that Assyrian sculptors, when they had to represent an open field battle, focused on the culminating episode of the fight, the sack of the enemy’s fortified city, omitting the details of the pitched battle that are neither represented or are summarized with few scenarios next to the siege scene.12 As the Assyrian army tries to avoid confronting the enemy in open field battles, so the Assyrian sculptors may have tried to escape representing them. Since the strategy of the Assyrian army in siege operations seems to be very effective and successful, at least according to what the Assyrians claim, one could question whether the success in open field battles was just as successful as the sieges.13 11 For that reason, the Assyrian kings had at their disposal a well-structured and organized network of spies and information (military intelligence). See the study by Dubovský 2006a; a recent paper (“Neo-Assyrian Military Intelligence”) on the organizational system of information has been presented by Tamás Dezsö at the 52e Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale in Münster in July 2006. 12 Sieges themselves are in reality reduced when depicted on the bas-relief. Sculptors concentrate on the representation of the assault on the enemy settlement by the Assyrian army, with details of the siege techniques and manoeuvres (De Backer 2007), and the final deportation of the captured people towards the king; simultaneously, they leave out the depictions of the approach of the Assyrian army to the enemy city and the preparation of the siege (construction of ramps, war machines etc.), with few exceptions (Nadali 2005, 177–178, 184). 13 Eph‘al 1983, 92; see also Grayson 1965 for examples of “problematical” battles. Although never stated in clear words, sieges themselves were not always successful. See for example the attempt by Shalmaneser III at conquering Damascus, the operations by Tiglath-Pileser III again against Damascus and Sennacherib’s military operations against Jerusalem. At least for Tiglath-Pileser III and Sennacherib, the Assyrian kings finally succeeded in conquering Damascus and Jerusalem by means of a blockade, thus imprisoning the enemy king in his own city and forcing him to surrender, seemly without resorting to a classical siege as represented on the bas-reliefs. In fact, both the conquests of Damascus and Jerusalem are not depicted in


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Shalmaneser’s Open Field Battles As pointed out by I. Eph‘al , Shalmaneser III “fought in more pitched battles―not always successfully―than any other Assyrian king”.14 Actually, Shalmaneser’s inscriptions give many examples of open field battles in different regions of the Near East, from Urartu to the West (Syria and Levant) and to the South (Babylonia). It is difficult to state whether this high frequency of battles in open terrain corresponds to a precise strategic choice of Shalmaneser’s army or to the geography of the region being attacked. According to the inscriptions, Shalmaneser opted for a pitched battle when either the enemy, trusting in its own force, attacked the Assyrian king to do battle or the adversary, frightened by the mighty of the Assyrian king, escaped. Consequently, the Assyrian army was forced to reply with a pitched battle, by means of chariots, horses and foot soldiers, to confront the enemy chariotry and cavalry. At the same time, open field battles were engaged to pursue the enemies that escaped in front of the Assyrian army and tried to take refuge in safe places, like the mountains. As a result, Shalmaneser was obliged to follow the enemy wherever he had gone and hidden himself, performing heroic actions like climbing and even besieging the mountain (fortresses and cities).15 On the bronze gates of Balawat, five examples of pitched battles can be recognised:16 1.

Band IIa (Fig. 1): episodes of Shalmaneser’s first campaign against Urartu (859 BC). The inscription carved on the bronze band indicates that the scenes refer to Shalmaneser’s fight against Urartu.17 If the accounts of the first campaign are taken into consideration,18 the Assyrian king moves his army to Hubuškia, an Urartian city of the king, Kāki. The annals text say that Kāki became frightened of the Assyrian king’s army and fled up into the mountains: thus, the Assyrian king climbed the mountains pursuing him to where he waged a “mighty war”, defeated the enemy king and took his chariots and troops captive. Finally he burnt the city of Hubuškia. Examining the depiction on Band IIa, the military operations can be divided into three scenarios: (1) the fight in the mountain between the Assyrian army and the Urartians; (2) the burning of Hubuškia; and (3) the transportation of the

the palaces of Tiglath-Pileser III and Sennacherib, while sieges of other Western cities, like Lachish, are represented in full detail (Elat 1975, 26; Uehlinger 2003, 301; Dubovský 2006b). Lastly see the considerations by Fuchs (2008) on the effective success of some sieges by the Assyrians and Fales in press. 14 Eph‘al 1983, 92. 15 Grayson 1996, A.0.102.6:ii 3–9. 16 Schachner 2007, 172–174, Tab. 50. On Band IXb the episode of Qarqar is represented, as the cuneiform inscription states (Grayson 1996, A.0.102.76; Schachner 2007, 54–55, 224, Taf. 9): Shalmaneser fought against the Syrian coalition at Qarqar during his sixth campaign to the West (853 BC). However, only the procession of prisoners aiming at the king is narrated. No scenes of the fight as well as the capture of Qarqar itself are depicted: actually, the abandoned city set on fire could be recognised as Qarqar. See Yamada 2000, 156. 17 Grayson 1996, A.0.102.65. 18 Grayson 1996, A.0.102.1:19b–29a, A.0.102.2:i 18b–23a.

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booty (a large pythos on a chariot) on the left. The description of the annals fits with the images depicted: the Assyrian army engages a pitched battle with chariots and infantry to pursue the enemy that fled to the mountains. The episode in the mountain can be clearly recognised on the right edge of the band: the enemies are forced to descend the mountains and they are finally killed by the Assyrians in hand-to-hand combat with bows and arrows and swords, a detail that is explicitly stated in other passages of Shalmaneser’s inscriptions and represented on the bronze gates of Balawat. Furthermore, the city of Hubuškia, as stated in the text, is not besieged but simply set on fire: the Assyrian army did not confront the enemy in a siege, but in an open field battle. Such a strategy seems to depend on the fact the enemy king escaped the Assyrian king who was thus obliged to pursue and catch him in the mountains. The Assyrian units involved in the battle are the infantry and chariotry. Since the geographical setting of the campaign was in the mountains, the following tactic can be suggested: Assyrian chariots―the king himself is represented in the first chariot shooting arrows, following and overwhelming the enemy that is escaping before reaching the peak of the mountain, where chariots had obviously to stop. At the base of the mountain, the Assyrian infantry waits for the enemy, which was forced by other Assyrian soldiers to descend from the mountain peak.19 Band IIa shows a combined attack of chariotry and infantry. The former pursues and disperses the enemy, the latter finally defeats the enemy infantry and completes their annihilation, for example, by beheading the Urartian soldiers that have been wounded in the battle against the Assyrian chariotry.

19

The inscriptions refer that Shalmaneser engaged a mighty war in the mountains. A similar scene is also engraved on band L2 of the temple gates of Assurnasirpal II from Balawat. The episode refers to Assurnasirpal’s first campaign (accession year) to the land of Tummu (mounts Urinu, Arunu and Etinu): enemies are descending from the mountain; Assyrian chariotry and cavalrymen in pairs attack and overwhelm the adversaries (Curtis / Tallis 2008, 55, figs. 59–60). See also the account of Assurnasirpal II that precedes many topoi of Shalmaneser’s inscriptions, like the flight of the enemies to the mountains, the difficulty of the terrain and the killing of the enemies with the sword: “[…] I mustered my chariotry and troops. I passed through difficult paths and rugged mountains which were unsuitable for chariotry and troops and marched to the land Tummu. […] The troops were frightened and took to a rugged mountain. Since the mountain was exceptionally rugged I did not pursue them. The mountain was as jagged as the point of a dagger and therein no winged bird of the sky flew. They had placed their fortress like the nest of the udīnu-bird within the mountain which none of the kings my fathers had ever approached. For three days the hero explored the mountain. His bold heart yearned the battle. He ascended on foot and overwhelmed the mountain. He smashed their nest and scattered their flock. I felled 200 of their fighting-men with the sword and carried off a multitude of captives like a flock of sheep” (Grayson 1991, A.0.101.1:I 43b–54a; Liverani 1992, 19–20, 150). Actually, Assurnasirpal II clearly states that chariots could not be used and he did not pursue the enemies, as, on the contrary, Shalmaneser does. It seems that the Assyrian king engaged a battle in the mountain using the infantry (“I felled 200 of their fighting-men with the sword”): chariotry and cavalry act at the base of the mountain, after the enemies descended or, more possibly, before they escaped to the mountain. Text focuses on the heroic action of the king, who ascends the mountain and defeats the enemies; band L2 depicts the action of the Assyrian chariotry and cavalry, allegedly before the flight of the enemies and when the terrain still allowed the use of chariots.


2.

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Band VIIa (Fig. 2): battle against king Aramu of Urartu and destruction of Arsaškun, his city (third campaign against Urartu).20 The cuneiform inscription carved on the band refers to the capture of the city of Aramu, the Urartian.21 According to the account of Shalmaneser’s third campaign against Aramu, the city to which the cuneiform label and representation on the band refers can be identified with Arsaškun.22 And as noted for the representation on Band IIa, the content of the royal inscriptions can give additional information on the strategy planned by the Assyrian army. The Annals record that Aramu was frightened by of the Assyrian king and escaped to the mountains. Therefore, the Assyrian king followed him up to the mountains, where he engaged Aramu in a mighty battle. It is interesting that the text explicitly states that the Assyrian soldiers felled the enemy with their swords, a recurrent topos that is clearly represented on Band VIIa. Since the enemy fled, the Assyrian army is forced to pursue them and thus to engage in an open field battle with chariots and horses engaging the enemy and finishing them off in hand-to-hand combat. Reading the scene from right to left, Assyrian chariots overtake the Urartian foot soldiers, while the Assyrian infantry kills the individual Urartians soldiers using of swords, spears and bow and arrows. The Assyrian cavalry precedes the attack of the infantry―that is, first the enemy soldiers are wounded by the Assyrian horsemen, then they are finally slaughtered by the Assyrian foot soldiers. The flight up to the mountains, as depicted at the far left edge of the band, is futile since the enemy is pursued and obliged to descend the peak. The city of Arsaškun is then set on fire by Assyrian soldiers. It is not a usual depiction of a siege, since no fighting is represented: the city is empty because its king abandoned it, as Shalmaneser records in his inscriptions,23 after the pillaging the city, the Assyrian soldiers destroy it.24 Band VIIa shows the attack sequence of three units of the Assyrian army: infantry, cavalry and chariotry. Cavalry and chariotry, with different interventions and mobility, pursue the escaping enemies quickly. The Assyrian infantry reaches the already injured Urartians and kills them. Band VIIa shows the kneeling enemy explicitly who are being executed by the Assyrian soldiers, with helmets, shields and severed heads floating in the air. Band XIIIa (Fig. 3): eleventh campaign of Shalmaneser to the West with the conquest of the city of Aštamaku, part of the Kingdom of Hamath. Although the depiction of Band XIIIa refers to the capture of the city of Aštamaku, according to the label incised on the band,25 actually no siege is represented.26 And, according to the content of the royal annals and the caption

20 On the geographical reconstruction of Shalmaneser’s third campaign to Urartu (Sea of Nairi), see Russell 1984, 185–194. 21 Grayson 1996, A.0.102.71. 22 Grayson 1996, A.0.102.2:ii 47b–56a; Schachner 2007, 50, 244–245. 23 Grayson 1996, A.0.102.2:ii 47b–49. 24 On the possible location of Ar‰aškun, see Russell 1984, 189–191 and Schachner 2007, 244– 245. 25 Grayson 1996, A.0.102.82. 26 Schachner 2007, 173.

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on the band,27 Shalmaneser captures Aštamaku together with other cities.28 It seems that the conquests have been the result of the deep incursion into the territory of the reign of Hamath. After the defeat of the enemy in open field battles, the cities were captured without difficulty, avoiding long and extensive sieges. Actually, no combat is represented between the besieging and besieged forces: the city in the middle of Band XIIIa, presumably Aštamaku identified in the caption,29 only shows dead and surrendering inhabitants on the walls.30 Therefore, the following strategy can be suggested: while the heavily armed Assyrian foot soldiers, captured the nearly empty and unprotected cities, the Assyrian cavalry and chariotry were engaged in an open field battle against the Syrian coalition. Shalmaneser himself is not actively participating (he is not portrayed at the bottom of the city walls, but shoots arrows from his chariot from afar). In this example, a combined strategy can explain the Assyrian tactics: infantry capture the cities, while chariotry and cavalry, including the king in his royal chariot, defeat the enemy in the plain.31 The trust of the enemy in its own military force, so that it attacks the Assyrian king in battle directly, is a recurrent topos in Shalmaneser’s inscriptions.32 When this wording is used, it might be suggested that an open field battle is meant to have been fought between the enemy force and the Assyrian army. Not only when the cowardly enemy escapes the Assyrian king, but also when it attacks him arrogantly to wage war and battle, the Assyrian army has no other choice than to fight pitched battles, confronting their adversary directly in open terrain. Band Pa: battle against Hamath. Band Pb: battle against Hamath. The entire Band P (Fig. 4) shows a pitched battle in the land of Hamath.33 In this example no cities are depicted, neither under siege or simply captured. Compared to the other examples of pitched battles on the Balawat Gates, Band P represents the clearest depiction of an open field battle, where Assyrian and enemy chariotry, cavalry and infantry confront each other in open terrain. Chariotry (the king is represented in the leading one) run over the dead enemy, while the cavalry makes incursions into the middle of the enemy infantry arrayed before it. The Assyrian foot soldiers are engaged in hand-to-hand com-

Grayson 1996, A.102.6:ii 68–iii 15, A.0.102.82. There is however a discrepancy between the numbers of cities Shalmaneser captured: eighty-six according to the caption on the band (Grayson 1996, A.0.102.82); eighty-nine according to other sources (Grayson 1996, A.102.6:ii 68–iii 15, A.0.102.10:ii 51–iii 5); or even ninety-nine (Grayson 1996, A.0.102.8:35’–41’a). 29 Schachner 2007, 65. 30 On the identification of the three cities on Band XIIIa, it has been suggested that Aštamaku itself is depicted three times from different perspectives (Yamada 2000, 174–176). Or, if the identification of the city in the middle of Band XIIIa with Aštamaku could be accepted as an easy identification, because of the caption associated directly with it, the other fortified settlements could be two of the other “eighty-nine” cities captured by Shalmaneser (Schachner 2007, 66–67, 224–225). 31 Schachner 2007, 173. 32 See examples in Grayson’s editions of Shalmaneser’s inscriptions (1996). See also Badalì et al. 1983, 30. 33 Grayson 1996, A.0.102.86; Schachner 2007, 73–75, 173. 28


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bat―slaughtering the enemy soldiers with swords. At the same time, Assyrian archers, arranged in pairs (one bowman and an attendant with shield), shoot arrows against enemy archers, covering the action of other Assyrian foot soldiers. In the middle of Band Pb, the confrontation between the arrayed Assyrian archers and enemy bowmen is unmistakably shown, while chariots run behind them toward the centre of the battle. Actually, it is difficult to distinguish enemy chariots from the Assyrian ones.34 As suggested by J. E. Reade,35 chariots on the right edge of Band Pb behind the enemy bowmen and chariots in the left part of Band Pa, again behind enemy archers, should be recognised as enemy chariots.36 According to this analysis, the dead soldiers under the running chariots should therefore be Assyrian.37 Assyrian sources provide information of the number of chariots of the enemy coalition: it is therefore plausible that Band P shows the complete confrontation between all units of the Assyrian army and all units of the enemy forces. In my opinion, a second reading is also possible: instead of two columns of Assyrian and enemy infantry, cavalry and chariotry that confront frontally, chariots and horses on both edges of Band P can be interpreted as Assyrian, thus suggesting a hypothetical strategy of encirclement by the Assyrian army: Assyrian chariotry and cavalry would have run from the rear towards the wings of the enemy coalition, pushing the adversaries to the centre where they faced up to the Assyrian foot soldiers. Actually, one detail supports Reade’s identification of enemy chariots and Assyrian dead soldiers: the Assyrian horses of both chariotry and cavalry show cut heads of dead enemies hanging from their neck. If the shape of chariots is the same, the detail of the hanging heads distinguished the Assyrian chariotry and cavalry, running from left to right on Band Pb and from right to left on Band Pa.38 Other Representations of Pitched Battles from the Neo-Assyrian Period Compared to Shalmaneser III, the representations of pitched battles of other NeoAssyrian kings are few. Notwithstanding this, the few examples known from the written and visual sources add information about the strategy of the Assyrian army and the use of the chariotry and cavalry that are still employed even in the 7th century BC, when the role of chariots, in particular, changed and decreased in importance.

34

Schachner 2007, 197–198. Reade 1979, 331–332. 36 Schachner (2007, 74–75) also follows Reade’s interpretation. 37 As far as I know, this is the only representation of dead Assyrian soldiers. 38 If one accepts Reade’s idea, the nature and function of the camps depicted at the far right edge of Band P are even more puzzling and unclear. A camp is also depicted between the Assyrian chariots in the lower register of Band P. We should therefore reconsider the possibility that camps on band P represent the Ausgangspunkt (Schachner 2007, 73, 75) of the narrative of both registers, particularly if the camp in the middle of the lower register is taken into consideration. Perhaps, those structures, usually identified with military camps, had also other functions, not only strictly military, or were someway unrelated to the fighting of battles (Micale / Nadali 2004, 170–171). 35

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Assurnasirpal II Actually, only one example of pitched battle is known in Assurnasirpal’s sources:39 the conquest of the cities on the Euphrates during his seventh campaign in the lands of Laqû and Suhu.40 The event of the conquest in the lands of Laqû and Suhu, with the heroic action of crossing the river Euphrates, has been recognised on slabs 11a– 8a in Assurnasirpal II’s throne room in the North-West Palace at Nimrud (Fig. 5).41 According to the account of the Annals, Assurnasirpal II records that Suhu, Laqû and Hindānu, “trusting in the massiveness of their chariotry, troops, and might, mustered 6000 of their troops and attacked me to wage war and battle”.42 As later in Shalmaneser’s accounts, the topos of the trust of the enemies is reported: thus, as a consequence, the Assyrian king is forced to resort to a pitched battle to respond to the enemy attack of chariots and horses. Actually, the upper register of slabs 11–8 in Assurnasirpal’s throne room depicts an open field battle with Assyrian chariotry (the king himself is represented on the last chariot on slab 11) and cavalry pursuing and overwhelming the enemy foot soldiers. No enemy chariots and horses are depicted, although they are mentioned in the Annals.43 In the end, the Assyrian army dispatches the enemy with swords,44 again a detail that will recur in Shalmaneser’s inscriptions.45 On slab 8, in fact, after the pursuing of Assyrian chariotry and cavalry, Assyrian foot soldiers are executing those adversaries who escaped and were not crushed by the chariots or wounded by the Assyrian horsemen. The attack combination of the three units is clear. In particular, the effectiveness of chariots and horses is exploited: chariots follow in the rear, while cavalry (couples of horsemen) makes quick incursions to the front. Although the Annals report the conquest of many cities during the incursions in the lands of Laqû and Suhu, the images on slabs 11–8 reproduce the open field confrontation between the Assyrian army and the enemy foot soldiers with no figurative reference to the enemy chariots described in the Annals. As a consequence, either slabs 11a–8a do not refer to the battles in the lands of Laqû and Suhu46 or they depict the event in a general and vague manner, thus avoiding too many details of what seems to have been a doubtful victory by the Assyrian king.47 Tiglath-Pileser III The few fragments of Tiglath-Pileser’s bas-reliefs so far published document some examples of pitched battles. Pieces of slabs can be linked to episodes of open field fights against Urartu: a drawing48 shows two Assyrian soldiers executing a kneeling

39

See fn. 19. Liverani 1992, 94–95. 41 Winter 1981, 11, 15; 1983, 22; Matthiae 1988, 365–367; 1996, 50–51; contra Reade 1985, 212, who labels the scenes on slabs 11a–8a as unidentifiable. 42 Grayson 1991, A.0.101.1:iii 31b–44a. 43 Actually, the pursuing of enemy chariots is represented on slabs 4a–3a (Meuszyński 1981, Taf. 2). 44 Grayson 1991, A.0.101.1:iii 35–36. 45 See fn. 19. 46 Reade 1985, 212. 47 Liverani 1992, 114. 48 Or. Dr. I, pl. XIII. 40


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enemy with the sword and the spear,49 a detail that recalls the inscriptions and images of Assurnasirpal II and Shalmaneser III when describing open field battles. And two other fragmentary slabs show the pursuing of fleeing Urartian enemies by the Assyrian chariotry and cavalry. As usual, Assyrian horsemen advance in pairs.50 Other fragmentary slabs (Figs. 6–8) show the battle of the Assyrian army against the Arab people of queen Samsi, occurred in the years 733–732 BC, when TiglathPileser was occupied in the war against Damascus and the kingdom of Aram.51 A couple of Assyrian horsemen and the king himself with two attendants on the chariot pursue and overwhelm the Arabs escaping on camels. No characterization of the landscape is given; it thus seems that the Assyrian artists wanted to reproduce the desert region where the Assyrians probably confronted the Arabs. Although the slabs are very fragmentary,52 the details that show the use of chariotry and cavalry against the Arabs is very meaningful, especially if one compares those scenes with the better preserved slabs of Room L of Assurbanipal depicting the pitched battle of the Assyrian army against the Arab tribes in the desert (see below). Probably, the pitched battles against the Arabs by Tiglath-Pileser III and Assurbanipal are the best examples of confrontation in open terrain. Since there are no fortified settlements in the desert, the Assyrian army can only engage the Arabs in pitched battles to defeat them, reaching and destroying their camps and tents, as recorded in Tiglath-Pileser’s accounts53 and clearly depicted on Assurbanipal’s bas-reliefs. Sargon II Despite the information on pitched battles that can be recovered and reconstructed in the inscriptions of Sargon II,54 the poor preservation of Sargon’s bas-reliefs offers very few examples of representation of open field battles. Actually, the upper register of the slabs in Room 5 shows fragmentary scenes of a military confrontation in open terrain. It has already been suggested that these basrelief reproduce the pitched battle between the Assyrian army and the Egyptian forces by Rapihu in Sargon’s second campaign.55 It is interesting to note that Sargon’s inscriptions that refer to the defeat of the Egyptians and their allies use the same formulaic wording already employed by Assurnasirpal II and Shalmaneser III that I suggested it could be the written record of a pitched battle: the enemies organize themselves and come forth to wage war and battle against the Assyrian king and his army.56 The bas-reliefs from Room 5 of Sargon’s palace at Khorsabad show the pursuing and overwhelming of the enemy by Assyrian chariots and horses: the en49

Barnett / Falkner 1962, pl. LVIII. Barnett / Falkner 1962, pls. LXV, LXVII. 51 Eph‘al 1982, 21–36. 52 Sobolewski 1979. 53 Tadmor 1994, Summ. 9, l. 20. 54 Scurlock 1997, 498–505. See also the account of Sargon’s eighth campaign against the Urartian king when he states that he fought alone in his chariot and his horses (i.e. cavalry) at his side (Smith 1994; Postgate 2000, 99). 55 Wäfler 1975, 34; Albenda 1986, 82–84; Matthiae 1996, 125–126. 56 “Hānunu, der König der Stadt Hāzutu, machte sich zusammen mit Rē’ê, dem Feldherrn von Ägypten, gegen mich auf, um bei der Stadt Rapihu Kampf und Schacht zu liefern” (Fuchs 1994, Pruk. 25; emphasis mine). The same wording is repeated in the annals (Fuchs 1994, Ann. 53–54). 50

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emy foot soldiers fall under the wheels of the chariots and the legs of the horses. The enemy engages the advance of the Assyrian army with long spears and oval shields. Assyrian horsemen do not advance in pairs, but on their own, singly (Fig. 9). A detail on slab 6 seems to recall the second typical wording already used by Assurnasirpal II and Shalmaneser III, that the enemy soldiers are, in the end, felled by the sword. An auxiliary soldier of the Assyrian army executes a kneeling foe.57 This scene, in reality, could also depict the capture of the city Rapihu after the defeat of Re’ê, the general of Egyptian army who escaped, and Hānunu, king of Hāzutu, who has been captured and deported to Assur.58 Actually, behind the Assyrian soldier flaying the enemy, Assyrian bowmen are shooting arrows to the left from behind the typical siege-shield. Unfortunately, the following slab, 7, to the left is lost.59 Other representations of a pitched battle on Sargon’s bas-relief are: 1. The Assyrian chariotry and cavalry pursuing fleeing enemy, a scene that occurs on the lower register of the slabs in Room 260 depicting the capture of the city of Harhar during Sargon’s first or second campaign to the northeast, to Media. Here the advance of the Assyrian chariotry and cavalry against the enemy is interrupted by the representations of sieges scenes showing the capture of five fortified settlements.61 Assyrian chariots (the king himself fights from his own chariot) overwhelm enemy foot soldiers and cavalry (Fig. 10) while Assyrian horsemen, riding either in pairs or on their own, threaten the enemy foot soldiers with their long spears (Fig. 11). The heavy eight-spoked chariots can easily unsaddle the enemy horsemen. The Assyrian horsemen fight from an elevated, favourable position so that they can easily and quickly move and attack. 2. The lower register of the slabs of Room 2 also documents five sieges: it is possible that while the Assyrian cavalry and chariotry were involved in open field battles, the Assyrian infantry was engaged in siege operations to capture cities and collect booty and prisoners. Since then the opponents would have been forced to defend themselves on two fronts, both the capture of cities and the defeat of the enemy army in open terrain by the Assyrian king were more easily achieved. According to two different strategic positions and tactical movements, the Assyrian king obtained, in the same campaign and territory, two positive results: the capture of fortified settlements (and consequently the taking of prisoners and booty) and the destruction of an entire armed force. Sennacherib Of the few examples of open-field, pitched battles of Sennacherib extant, the battle at Halule against the Babylonians surely represents the most famous and debated 57

Albenda 1986, pl. 96. Fuchs 1994, Ann. 54–57. 59 The narrative of the upper register flows from the left to the right. Actually, only slabs 8 and 6 show a reverse direction of the narrative. Perhaps, the lost slab 7 bore the representation of the capture of the city. On both slabs 8 and 6 two low, rectangular objects are represented: although their nature is uncertain, they could be the lowest part of the fortification of the city (outer battlements) or movable tower shields (see also Albenda 1986, 83). 60 Albenda 1986, 88–91. 61 Albenda 1986, pls. 112, 119, 120, 126, 128. 58


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case.62 Despite the victory claims of both sides that makes the result of the battle unclear, Scurlock63 analysed the movements of the Assyrian and Babylonian troops on the battlefield, reconstructing the simultaneous attack by Sennacherib from the front and the flank of one of the enemy’s wings.64 Beside the massive presence of foot soldiers, those quick manoeuvres of encirclement and simultaneous attack were surely the result of a strategy involving a coordinated attack by Assyrian cavalry and chariotry.65 While part of the enemy array was attacked and dispersed by the Assyrian horsemen and chariots, the Assyrian infantry could single out, disperse and dispense with the confused and escaping enemy soldiers. Indeed this tactic of the Assyrian army did not succeed perfectly and the Elamites and Babylonians, although forced to withdraw, kept most of their forces intact. Actually, Sennacherib could only claim a technical victory.66 The “problematical” outcome of the battle at Halule probably caused its absence among the representations in Sennacherib’s South-West Palace at Nineveh. There are also other representations that can be linked to episodes of pitched battles, battles in the mountains, probably referring to Sennacherib’s second campaign in Eastern mountainous regions (the Zagros) between fleeing enemy foot soldiers and cavalry and the Assyrian cavalry that easily pursues, reaches and kills its adversaries (Figs. 12–13).67 The strategic importance and use of horses in difficult terrains, like the mountains, is stressed by Sennacherib’s himself. In his second campaign, he mentions that, while marching against the lands of the Kassites and the Yasubigallai, “in the midst of the high mountains I rode on horseback where the terrain was difficult and had my chariot drawn up with ropes”.68 The episode refers to the approach of the king toward the enemy lands, but it is probable that cavalry was the designated force to attack the enemy in that particular geographical environment. Another example concerns the fights of the Assyrian army in the marshes in Babylonia. Actually those scenes are not properly pitched battles: the enemy flees before the Assyrian king and finds refuge in the marshes where they were reached by the Assyrian army none-the-less and thus captured (Figs. 14–15).69 And yet another example of Sennacherib’s pitched battle representations in the South West Palace documents an episode of the third campaign to the West. Russell70 suggested that slabs 24–27 of Sennacherib’s throne room show the pitched 62

Grayson 1965, 342; Scurlock 1997, 509–515. Scurlock 1997, 509–515. 64 Scurlock 1997, 511, 515. 65 See the emphatic description of Sennacherib’s chariot before and after the battle: “My great battle chariot, which brings low the foe, I hurriedly mounted in the anger of my heart. […] The wheels of my war chariot, which brings low the wicked and the evil, were bespattered with blood and filth” (Luckenbill 1924, H2, col. V, ll. 69–71, col. VI ll. 7–9). 66 Scurlock 1997, 515. 67 See also Barnett / Bleibtreu / Turner 1998, pls. 87–89 (Court VI) and 60, 62 (Room V). 68 Luckenbill 1924, H2, col. I, ll. 68–70. 69 See the account of Sennacherib’s fourth campaign to the South (Luckenbill 1924, H2, col. III, ll. 50–69). Actually, those slabs could also represent episodes of the first or even the sixth campaign of Sennacherib to Babylonia (Russell 1991, 164–165), although the reference to the marshes and swamps is explicitly made in the account of the fourth campaign. 70 Russell 1998, 38, pls. 63–71. 63

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battle that occurred against the Egyptian army at Eltekeh.71 Although very damaged, the slabs depict an engagement in the open field where, next to the infantry, both cavalry and chariotry have also been engaged.72 It thus seems reasonable to hypothesise, with Uehlinger,73 that the western city on slab 28 could be identified with Jerusalem that was not besieged by the Assyrian army, but captured after a blockade (King Hezekiah was imprisoned in his own city “like a bird in a cage”).74 According to this reconstruction, the eastern wall of Room I reproduces, nearly chronologically and geographically, the conquests by Sennacherib in his third campaign, as described in the annals.75 Esarhaddon Only fragments of Esarhaddon’s sculptures are known. Thus, we have no information about representations of pitched battles, except the fragmentary scenes of Esarhaddon’s campaign to Egypt represented on glazed bricks found in Fort Shalmaneser at Nimrud.76 However, the questions to the gods dated to the reign of Esarhaddon can be used to retrieve information about the fighting of pitched battles. The Assyrian king would ask the gods about the positive possibility and choice of planning and waging war. The terminology seems to refer to a pitched battle, that is the Assyrian king arranges his army to engage in an open field battle against the enemy. Usually, after this first question, the Assyrian king wants assurance from the gods that his weapons and army will prevail.77 Other times, Esarhaddon asks the gods about the enemy’s choice to arrange its troops and confront the Assyrian king and the Assyrian army in a battle in open terrain.78 Questions concerning sieges give very useful and clear information about the way of conquering a city, enlisting different methods and strategies that were planned and applied according to each situation.79 Otherwise, the questions that concern pitched battles do not explain any strategy at all, only concentrating on the concern about the effective positive outcome and victory of the Assyrian king: should the king engage in the planned battle or not? Should he take the road with his army personally? Should he wage war against the enemy at all? And, finally, will his weapons and army prevail over the weapons and troops of the enemy? These standardised lists are almost like a magical incantations of how to conquer a city in a siege operation and seem to assure the king that he will capture the fortified enemy settlement one way or another. Actually the gods are asked which strategy the king and his army should employ to reach their objectives. In the questions 71

Luckenbill 1924, F1, ll. 24–27. Russell 1998, pl. 63. 73 Uehlinger 2003, 299–302. 74 On the blockade of Jerusalem and the “problematical” siege of the city, see Mayer 2003, 179–181; Uehlinger 2003, 295–296, 301. 75 Uehlinger 2003, 301; Nadali 2008. As correctly stated by Uehlinger 2003, 301, fn. 210, the coastal city on slabs 20a-b represent neither Tyre (Barnett 1969) nor Jaffa (Gallagher 1997), but Sidon (Matthiae 1996, 170). 76 Nadali 2006. 77 See for example Starr 1990, nn. 30, 31, 33, 84. 78 Starr 1990, nn. 42, 73. 79 Eph‘al 1997; Fuchs 2008, 52–57, 76–77. 72


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concerning pitched battles, the king wants to know if he should confront the enemy in open terrain and which army and weapons will prevail. In the questions concerning a siege, the king does not want to know who will prevail, but he asks the gods about the strategies he should use. Once this is known, the capture of the city by the Assyrian king is certain. Compared to the sieges, it seems that the Assyrian king is more cautious and needs more guarantees if and when he must engage in a pitched battle. Assurbanipal The Battle of Til-Tuba against the Elamite king Teumman is probably the best known example of a pitched battle in the field in the Neo-Assyrian period. According to the reconstruction made by Scurlock,80 the bas-reliefs of Room XXXIII in Sennacherib’s South-West Palace allow us to understand the successful open field strategy of the Assyrian army, which uses a movement of the cavalry against the left wing of the enemy army, resulting in the pushing of the Elamites in the opposite direction. Actually, Assyrian horsemen are represented on the lower register of slabs 2–3, that is, according to Scurlock’s analysis, on the right wing of the Assyrian army facing the left wing of the Elamite army (Fig. 16), which is fleeing towards the river at the far right edge of slab 3.81 Room L of Assurbanipal’s North Palace at Nineveh documents a second representation of a pitched battle,82 the confrontation between the Assyrian army and the Arabs in the desert. The landscape is characterised by a minimum of details to reproduce the desert setting of the fight, only the palms in the Arab camp. Actually, the representation of all three units of the Assyrian army in battle is the most interesting aspect of the Room L sculptures, in particular the active role of the chariotry in the 7th century BC. Usually, chariots on the bas-reliefs of Sennacherib and Assurbanipal are represented next to the battle, that is they are mostly used as means of transportation to reach the battlefield and to shoot arrows from the rear from an elevated and well-defended position during siege operations. In the 7th century BC, chariots are larger so that they can easily transport four armoured men. Because of their size and weight, it is much more difficult to manage chariots on the battlefield. However the representation of chariots in the open field confrontation with the Arabs seems to be the result of a strategic and necessary choice for victory. An observation made by Herodotus in the first book of his Histories helps to explain the Assyrian plan of attack: [80] When Cyrus saw the Lydians forming up for battle on this plain, he realized that the Lydians cavalry was a threat, so he adopted the following tactics, which were suggested to him by a Mede called Harpagus. There were camels with the army, used to carry food and baggage. Cyrus had them all collected and unloaded, and then he mounted on them in full cavalry gear. Once the men were ready, he ordered them to advance against Croesus’ cavalry with the rest of the army following them―first the infantry behind the 80

Scurlock 1997, 506–509. Nadali 2007, 68. See also the analysis by Córdoba (1997) in using von Clausewitz’s theories. 82 Nadali 2004. 81

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camels, and then his entire regular cavalry bringing up the rear. […] These were his instructions. He had the camels positioned to confront the cavalry because horses are afraid of camels and cannot stand either their sight or their smell. […] So battle was joined, and as soon as the horses smelled and saw the camels, they turned tail and Croesus’ hopes were destroyed.83 I suggest here that the Assyrian army employed the chariotry to avoid what will happen to Croesus’ mounted cavalry, a situation already known to the Assyrian field commanders. Chariots, and maybe especially the heavy chariots of the 7th century, develop a momentum that is more difficult for the drivers to redirect and therefore will successfully advance against the target, camels or not. Once the heavy Assyrian chariots have dispersed the Arabs, leaving the obstacle of the camels behind, the Assyrian cavalry, together with the infantry, can pursue and wound the fleeing enemy, now with no worry about camels. Slabs 4–7 (Figs. 17–18) and 12 (Fig. 19) of Room L clearly show how the employment of the units of the Assyrian army is all but casual. Indeed, it does correspond to a precise strategic will to achieve victory. First chariots and then horsemen disperse the Arabs, while the Assyrian infantry operate individual attacks on individual single enemy soldiers and destroy the tents of the Arab camp (slab 9). 5. Observations: On the Riding of Horses and the Driving of Chariots Comparing the representations on Assyrian bas-reliefs of cavalry and chariotry over time from the 9th to the 7th century BC, one can distinguish differences in the way horses are ridden and the composition of chariot crews differ in the course of time. On one hand, these changes indicate an evolution of cavalry and chariotry owing to technical innovations; on the other, it implies the tactical and strategic transformation of the use of both units. Cavalry Horsemen are usually represented in pairs on the bas-reliefs of Assurnasirpal II and the bronze gates of Shalmaneser III.84 While one cavalryman shoots with the bow against the fleeing enemy, the other protects himself and his companion and leads both horses.85 The second cavalryman clearly holds the reins of both horses. His defensive role is stressed by the presence of a shield, differently held―on the back/shoulder (Assurnasirpal II) or grasped in one hand (Shalmaneser III). On Shalmaneser’s bronze bands, the second horseman is sometimes equipped with a spear86 and, instead of holding the reins of both horses, he drives them by using a lash (he is actually represented while flogging the horse of his companion). The two horsemen usually wear the same kind of clothes (fringed tunic, pointed helmet), but on Assurnasirpal’s bas-reliefs the second horseman does not wear the typical Assyrian 83

Herodotus, The Histories, translated by R. Waterfield, Oxford University Press, Oxford (1998). 84 For illustrations, we refer to Budge (1914) for Assurnasirpal II and Schachner (2007) for Shalmaneser III. 85 Littauer / Crouwel 1979, 134–135. 86 Reade 1972, 103; Schachner 2007, Abb. 92–94.


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pointed helmet but a round helmet.87 The few pictorial examples from the time of Tiglath-Pileser III show that Assyrian horsemen still operate in pairs. Although each rider seems to control his own horse, the cavalryman in the foreground is still represented with one of his hands between the two horses.88 Is he holding the reins of both horses? The horsemen wear the same military garments (fringed tunic, pointed helmet, and sometimes with the addition of scale armour)89 but they confront the enemy with spears, not bows and arrows. Under Sargon II, although pairs of horsemen are still present, the introduction of the technical device of the rein holder90 allows horsemen to fight independently. They wear the same military clothes (fringed tunic, scale armour, pointed helmet) and they use spears but they also carry bows, arrows and quivers, that is they can choose their offensive weapons, according to the tactic and the role they cover in the military operation.91 Bas-reliefs of Sennacherib and Assurbanipal no longer show Assyrian horsemen in pairs. Instead, they usually depict cavalrymen in lines, one following the other, carrying either the bow or the spear or even both weapons.92 The horseman with the bow usually precedes the one with spear. This scheme could in reality correspond to a specific strategy, that is, the Assyrian mounted archer wounds the enemy soldier and then the horsemen with the spear finally kill the ones who remain alive. They wear the same military garments: fringed tunic, scale armour, pointed helmet and boots, thus indicating they are Assyrians.93 Bas-relief documentation shows the constant use of cavalry throughout the NeoAssyrian period, with technical changes and improvements. When the rein holder became part of its equipment, the cavalry began to fight more independently with the bow and the spear. Actually, the distinction between the two horsemen, the one with the bow and the other with the spear, led Scurlock94 to suggest that the second rider could be identified with the kallāpu, one of the most debated and problematic words in the Assyrian sources.95 From the role of second rider, who holds the reins of two horses and has a defensive function, the kallāpu passed to an independent, active role involved in battles fighting with the spear. At the same time, he is charged with the protection of the baggage during the transport and movement of troops96 and even used as a messenger in time of peace.97 87

Hrouda 1965, 89, Taf. 23, 4; Dezsö 2006, 113. Barnett / Falkner 1962, pls. XIV, LXVII. 89 Dezsö 2006, 115. 90 Littauer / Crouwel 1979, 135; Dalley 1985, 37; Noble 1990, 65. 91 Albenda 1986, pl. 121. Scurlock (in press) suggests that, since Sargon’s horsemen are now deprived of their second rider, they started to carry spears to defend themselves. I wish to thank Prof. JoAnn Scurlock for making her text available to me before publication. 92 Reade 1972, 103; Barnett / Bleibtreu / Turner 1998, pls. 84, 130, 297. When the bowman fights with the spear, he can also carry a quiver with arrows and bow (Postgate 2000, 99). 93 Reade 1972, 103–104; Postgate 2000, 99. 94 Scurlock, in press. 95 See Postgate 2000, 104–105. 96 According to Scurlock’s hypothesis, the horsemen in the rear of the column of the army on the march could be identified with the kallāpu. On Sennacherib’s bas-reliefs they are depicted 88

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Chariotry The shape and use of chariots changed in the course of time. In the 9th century, chariots are small, light and provided with six-spoked wheels.98 They usually carry a crew of two men, a driver and an archer. The crew is three on the royal chariot because of the presence of the king. The men on the chariot are usually without defensive weapons though a shield is sometimes attached to the rear of chariot box.99 The soldiers on the chariot do not wear any helmets. The king is identified by the presence of the royal tiara. But by the time the bronze bands of the Balawat Gates of Shalmaneser III, were fashioned, the soldier on the chariot does sometimes wear the typical pointed helmet and the driver can also be equipped with a helmet.100 Soldiers on the chariots also seem to wear scale armour.101 By the reign of Tiglath-Pileser III, chariots increased in size and have eightspoked wheels. A fragmentary slab shows the king in his chariot with two attendants pursuing fleeing Arabs on camels:102 actually, in this example, the chariot seems sixspoked and the two attendants wear pointed helmets. By the time of Sargon II, chariot wheels are clearly eight-spoked and can carry up to four men.103 Chariots with two men (the driver and a bowman) are still present.104 However, when the king is depicted in his chariot, the crew is composed of two and even three additional men. All men wear the pointed helmet, even the driver and if the king uses his bow, the two attendants hold large round shields, decorated with intricate vegetal and flower motifs.105 The bas-reliefs of Sargon II represent the antecedent of Sennacherib and Assurbanipal’s chariots in both the shape of the chariot and the composition of the crew. Chariots in the 7th century all have eight-spoked wheels with a very large carriage that can easily carry four men. The king is no longer depicted on battle chariots. He is usually represented in his parade chariot at the end of the battle, during the reviews of prisoners and booty. On these occasions, Sennacherib and Assurbanipal are on foot with a spear in the hand and leading their horses by the reins (Barnett / Bleibtreu / Turner 1998, pl. 405). 97 Scurlock, in press. 98 Littauer / Crouwel 1979, 106, 128–130. 99 Littauer / Crouwel 1979, 103. Only on the royal chariot does one of the attendants next to the king hold a spiked or round shield for protection. See, for example, the bas-reliefs of Assurnasirpal II (Budge 1914, pls. XIV:1, XVIII:1, XXIV:2). 100 For example, see band IVa (Schachner 2007, Taf. 29b–30a), band IXa (Schachner 2007, Taf. 44b, 47a), band XIIa–b (Schachner 2007, Taf. 54b, 56b, 57a–b), band XIIIa (Schachner 2007, Taf. 58a–b, 60b). Representations of the royal chariot, always seem to depict this attendant wearing a helmet and holding a shield in his hand. Exceptions do occur. Band VIIa shows two men on the chariot, the driver without any helmet and an archer, presumably the king (or crown prince), since he wears a royal tiara (Schachner 2007, 49, Taf. 40a). 101 Postgate 2000, 97. 102 Barnett / Falkner 1962, pls. XV–XVI; Noble 1990, 65. On the use of chariots against the Arabs, see the above discussion about the Assurbanipal campaign against the Arabs, depicted in Room L of the North Palace at Nineveh. 103 Dalley 1985, 40. 104 Albenda 1986, pl. 113. 105 Hrouda 1965, 90, Taf. 23, 24–28. When the crew is composed of three men (king + the driver + one attendant), two large round shields are also depicted and they are both held by the attendant (Albenda 1986, pl. 121).


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accompanied by two attendants. In battle contexts, the chariot crew is usually composed of the driver, an archer and two soldiers with round shields, thus repeating the tactical arrangement of Sargon II. Except for the bas-reliefs of Assurbanipal in Room L and the evidence in the written accounts, no other examples of chariots actively engaged in the battle are known. Chariots seem to assume the role of means of transport of at least four armoured men106 that, once they reached the battlefield, they can fight from the rear and from an elevated position (as represented in the siege operations)107 or dismount and act as foot soldiers. So, starting from time of Tiglath-Pileser III, the soldiers on chariots are all provided with defensive equipments (helmet, scale armour and shields)108 and I wonder whether this change corresponds actually to a change in the battle strategy of the Assyrian army, that is chariots are more and more used to reach the battle (except the sporadic employment in open field battles in the 8th and 7th centuries) where the soldiers deployed on them can then join the infantry in the attack operations. It is surprising that in the battle on the river Ulai against the Elamite, Teumman, the Assyrians do not use chariots. Only the Elamite wagons are depicted and even the Assyrians have to use an Elamite chariot to transport the decapitated head of Teumman109 back to Assurbanipal in Nineveh. This explanation of the use of the chariot can be accepted when the military operations concern sieges, where the employment of chariots is useless. Or, in the 7th century BC, the change could also be due to the fact that the king no longer has an active role in the battle (he does not fight from his chariot) and the cavalry is only responsible for the initial attack and pursuing of the enemy.110 It seems that, in the 7th century BC, we can properly speak of mounted infantry, that is, foot soldiers who can take advantage, if not temporarily, to reach their assigned position in the battle by using the chariot as means of transportation. All the same, I do believe, with Postgate,111 that chariots still have a military role in the 7th century BC,112 even after they adapted to new circumstances, one of them the non-participatory role of the king in the actual battle.113 6. Conclusions Despite the scanty evidence of pitched battles in both written accounts and figurative sources, the reconsideration of some passages of the royal inscriptions can lead to 106

Noble 1990, 66. See, for example, Assurbanipal’s bas-reliefs of Room F, where chariots are represented behind the array of foot soldiers (archers and slingers) and cavalry, outside the battle since the archers on the chariot are not shooting arrows. Only the other two soldiers raise their round shields over their heads (Barnett 1975, pls. XVI, XXI; Postgate 2000, 98; Nadali 2007, 75– 76). 108 As we have seen, this is the antecedent of scenes on Shalmaneser III’s Balawat Gates. 109 Barnett / Bleibtreu / Turner 1998, pl. 289. 110 Noble 1990, 66. 111 Postgate 2000, 97. 112 Noble (1990, 67) speaks of a ceremonial use of the chariot (“prestige and sporting”) by Sennacherib and Assurbanipal. 113 Again this is in direct contrast with the bas-reliefs of 9th and 8th centuries BC, which show the royal chariot―that is the active role of the king in battle―next to other Assyrian chariots. 107

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the interpretation of the tactical plans of the Assyrian army. Although an explicit and direct link with the images is not always possible and sometimes it is even risky, particularly when we include the figurative evidence, some depictions of war can be better understood, particularly in what concerns the disposition and use of the units of the Assyrian army, according to a planned strategy. The geographical clues in the royal inscriptions and the landscape details on the bas-reliefs can result in an understanding the tactics of the units of the Assyrian army and its military strategy. According to the situations in which the Assyrians found themselves, they preferred a siege but would employ all units if a direct confrontation with the enemy in open terrain was required. That is, the reticence of the Assyrian sources to describe open field battles seems to be linked to an effective military choice of the Assyrians. When possible, the Assyrian army avoided direct confrontation with the enemy, preferring siege operations: As analysed in the cases of pitched battles, an open field fight is strictly necessary only when either the enemy tries to escapes the battle field “in front of” the Assyrian army or when the enemy first attacks to wage war, “trusting in the might of his army and weapons”.114 The anxiety of direct confrontation in open terrain can be detected in the queries: the Assyrian king asks the gods about the possibility of an enemy attack against the men, horse and army of the Assyrian king.115 Consequently, once an open field battle is unavoidable, the Assyrian king wants assurance by the gods that his army and weapons will prevail over those of the enemy. Notwithstanding the lack of information, the few pitched battles described in the texts and represented on the bas-reliefs provide additional data on Assyrian warfare beside the sieges, where normally the infantry is the only active unit, (we include here among the foot soldiers what today we would call Army Engineers―all the specializations of sappers and technical supports like the soldiers assigned to the battering-rams), the pitched battles offer a general portrayal of the Assyrian army, since all units (infantry, cavalry and chariotry) are actively involved in the fight, with a different tactical layout and a strategic combination of actions to defeat enemy forces. The successful employment of horses and chariots is evident. Chariots strike and disperse the enemies: their heavy construction will overcome any obstacle easily and, sometimes, chariots are the only pieces of equipment in the Assyrian arsenal that can be used to achieve victory (see for example the case against the Arabs and their camels). Cavalry can easily pursue the enemy over difficult terrain (like mountains). It can encircle the enemy army by attacking the wings and thus facilitating the work of the Assyrian infantry in the centre (see the battles at Dur-Yakin by Sargon II and at the river Ulai by Assurbanipal).116 As a very versatile unit, it can go straight 114

Badalì et al. 1983, 30–31. However, the Assyrians did sometimes give up the pursuit of the enemy, particularly when the adversary find refugee in the higher and uninhabited mountains. Since the absence of settlements to be sacked, the Assyrians prefer to avoid the difficulty of marching and fighting in those areas with high risk and waste of energy (Liverani 1992, 149– 150). In those cases, the Assyrian kings usually describe the flight of the enemies by means of depreciative similes, comparing them to animals (Marcus 1977; Fales 1982; Ponchia 1987, 241–245; Milano 2005, 57–61). 115 E.g. Starr 1990, n. 268. 116 Scurlock 1997, 503–505, 506–509.


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and change direction quickly. The combination of these units is the effective Assyrian strategy for victory. Each strategy is accurately planned by the Assyrian commanders according to the situation, the geographical place and the nature of the enemy, all aspects that are very well studied before the battle. We can also suppose that the organization and positioning of the troops were effectively drawn and presented to the gods as real plans and sketches of tactic and strategy. The diviners could then find the gods’ answers in the interpretations of the animal entrails.117 The Assyrian king is not unprepared when he confronts the enemy. At the same time, he must also be able to react to any difficulty and unexpected event. The contents of the inscriptions, although schematic and concise in the description of the battles, and the images, often schematic and repetitive as well, explain the reason of using chariots, cavalry and foot soldiers, either in a combination of the three units or in precise military operations of one of them. In particular, for what concerns the use of chariots, bas-reliefs of the 7th century BC show how chariots, even though decreased in importance as a war machine, are still part of the equipment of the Assyrian army when it moves to war. Observing the images, it is thus clear that the position of chariotry, often in the rear, and cavalry, moving forward and along the wings, does reflect a tactical array. Instead of long columns of chariots and horses following the infantry, we have to imagine the movements of Assyrian troops according to a strategy of the striking, encirclement and pursuing of the enemy.118 Bibliography Albenda, P., 1986: The Palace of Sargon, King of Assyria. Paris. Badalì, E. et al., 1983: Studies on the Annals of Aššurnasirpal II. I. Morphological Analysis. VO 5, 13–73. Bahrani, Z., 2008: Rituals of War. The Body and Violence in Mesopotamia. New York. Barnett, R. D., 1969: Ezekiel and Tyre. EI 9, 6–13. Barnett, R. D. / Bleibtreu, E. / Turner, G., 1998: Sculptures from the Southwest Palace of Sennacherib at Nineveh. London. Barnett, R. D. / Falkner, M., 1962: The Sculptures of Aššur-nasir-apli II (883–859 B.C.), Tiglath-pileser III (745–727 B.C.), Esarhaddon (681–669 B.C.) from the Central and South-West Palaces at Nimrud. London. Córdoba, J. M., 1997: Die Schlacht am Ulaya-Fluß. Ein Beispiel assyrischer Kriegführung während der letzten Jahre des Reiches. In H. Waetzoldt / H. Hauptmann (eds.): Assyrien im Wandel der Zeiten, XXXIXe Réncontre Assyriologique Internationale, Heidelberg 6.–10. Juli 1992. Heidelberg. Pp. 7–18.

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Bahrani 2008, 188. Only by the time I got the proofs of my paper, I had the possibility of reading the recent study by F. De Backer (2007b). In this long article, De Backer also analyses the Neo-Assyrian pitched battles: he offers different plans of attack according to the position of the Assyrian units on the battlefield as represented on the bas-reliefs, and he reaches some of the conclusions I also express in my study. 118

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34, 171–201. Russell, J. M., 1991: Sennacherib’s Palace without Rival at Nineveh. Chicago / London. ― 1998: The Final Sack of Nineveh. New Haven / London. Schachner, A., 2007: Bilder eines Weltreichs. Kunst- und kultur-geschichtliche Untersuchungen zu den Verzierungen eines Tores aus Balawat (Imgur-Enlil) aus der Zeit von Salmanassar III, König von Assyrien. Turnhout. Scurlock, J., 1997: Neo-Assyrian Battle Tactics. In G. D. Young / M. W. Chavalas / R. E. Averbeck (eds.): Crossing Boundaries and Linking Horizons. Studies in Honor of Michael C. Astour. Bethesda. Pp. 491–517. ― in press: Kallāpu―Messenger, Infantry or Cavalry. In H. Neumann (ed.): Proceedings of the 52e Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale, Münster, 17.–21. Juli 2006. Wiesbaden. Smith, J. B., 1994: A Tactical Re-Interpretation of the Battle of Uaush: Assyria and Urartu at War 714 BC. In A. Çilingiroğlu / D. H. French (eds.): Anatolian Iron Ages 3. The Proceedings of the Third Anatolian Iron Ages Colloquium held at Van, 6–12 August 1999. Ankara: 229–239. Sobolewski, R. 1979: Preliminary Report on the Third Season of Polish Excavations at Kalḫu Nimrûd (March-April 1976). Études et Travaux XI, 253–265. Starr, I., 1990: Queries to the Sungod. Divination and Politics in Sargonid Assyria. Helsinki. Tadmor, H., 1994: The Inscriptions of Tiglath-pileser III, King of Assyria. Jerusalem. Uehlinger, C., 2003: Clio in a World of Pictures―Another Look at the Lachish Reliefs from Sennacherib’s Southwest Palace at Nineveh. In L. L. Grabbe (ed.): ‘Like a Bird in a Cage’. The Invasion of Sennacherib in 701 BCE. New York / London. Pp. 221–305. Wäfler, M., 1975: Nicht-Assyrer neuassyrischer Darstellungen. Neukirchen-Vluyn. Winter, I. J., 1981: Royal Rhetoric and the Development of Historical Narrative in Neo-Assyrian Reliefs. Studies in Visual Communication 7/2, 2–38. ― 1983: The Program of the Throneroom of Assurnasirpal II. In P. O. Harper / H. Pittman (eds.): Essays on Near Eastern Art and Archaeology in Honor of Charles Kyrle Wilkinson. New York. Pp. 15–31. Yamada, S., 2000: The Construction of the Assyrian Empire. A Historical Study of the Inscriptions of Shalmaneser III (859–824 B.C.) Relating to His Campaign to the West. Leiden / Boston / Köln.


Fig. 1. Band II, Balawat Bronze Gates of Shalmaneser III (after Schachner 2007, Taf. 2)

Fig. 2. Band VII, Balawat Bronze Gates of Shalmaneser III (after Schachner 2007, Taf. 7)

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Fig. 3. Band XIII, Balawat Bronze Gates of Shalmaneser III (after Schachner 2007, Taf. 13)

Fig. 4. Band P, Balawat Bronze Gates of Shalmaneser III (after Schachner 2007, Taf. 16)


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Fig. 5. Slabs 11-8, Assurnasirpal’s throne room in the North-West Palace at Nimrud (after Meuszyński 1981, Taf. 2)

Fig. 6. Slab 1b, lower register, Central Palace of Tiglath-Pileser III at Nimrud (after Barnett / Falkner 1962, pl. XIV)

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Fig. 7. Slab 5b, lower register, Central Palace of Tiglath-Pileser III at Nimrud (after Barnett / Falkner 1962, pl. XVI)

Fig. 8. Slab 7b, lower register, Central Palace of Tiglath-Pileser III at Nimrud (after Barnett / Falkner 1962, pl. XVII)


Fig. 9. Slabs 1 and 2, Room 5, Royal Palace of Sargon II at Khorsabad (after Albenda 1986, pls. 102–103)

Fig. 10 . Slab 9-8, Room 5, Royal Palace of Sargon II at Khorsabad (after Albenda 1986, pl. 97)

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Fig. 11. Slabs 18-19, Room 2, Royal Palace of Sargon II at Khorsabad (after Albenda 1986, pl. 121)


Fig. 12. Slab 12, Court VI, Sennacherib’s South-West Palace at Nineveh (after Barnett / Bleibtreu / Turner 1998: pl. 84)

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Fig. 13. Slab 12, Room VII, Sennacherib’s South-West Palace at Nineveh (after Barnett / Bleibtreu / Turner 1998, pl. 130)


Fig. 14. Slab 3, Room XXVIII, Sennacherib’s South-West Palace at Nineveh (after Barnett / Bleibtreu / Turner 1998, pl. 237)

Fig. 15. Slab 1, Room LXX, Sennacherib’s South-West Palace at Nineveh (after Barnett / Bleibtreu / Turner 1998, pl. 463)

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Fig. 16. Tactical scheme of the battle on the river Ulai as reconstructed by Scurlock (1997, fig. 7) and compared with slabs 1–3 of Room XXXIII, Sennacherib’s SouthWest Palace at Nineveh (drawings of the slabs after Barnett / Bleibtreu / Turner 1998, pl. 286)


Fig. 17. Slabs 4–5, Room L, Assurbanipal’s North Palace at Nineveh (after Barnett 1975, pl. XXXII)

Fig. 18. Slabs 6–7, Room L, Assurbanipal’s North Palace at Nineveh (after Barnett 1975, pl. XXXII)

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Fig. 19. Slab 12, Room L, Assurbanipal’s North Palace at Nineveh (after Barnett 1975, pl. XXXIII)

Mobilisation and Militarisation in the Neo-Babylonian Empire John MacGinnis

For a phenomenon which, of however short duration, was to live on in memory with a reputation writ large, it is extraordinary how little we know in detail about the NeoBabylonian empire.1 The explanations for this are various―relevant archives may not have been found, they may have been cleared out by the Persians, they may to a substantial extent have been written on perishable materials―but in any case this scarcity of information extends to most aspects of both the internal government of Babylonia as well as provincial administration. Inevitably this impacts on our understanding of the military. In these circumstances we need to find other ways in which to approach the issue. A good starting point is to take a look at the structure of the Neo-Babylonian empire. This is important as it is leads into an understanding of the sources of recruitment. Looked at from a historical standpoint the fundamental issue is to what extent did the Babylonians inherit the empire of Assyria and how did they administer those lands which they did retain? Following the collapse of Assyrian government in 612 BC the empire was carved up between the Medes and Babylonians, the Medes taking the northern Zagros while Transpotamia and the Levant fell to the Babylonians.2 But much uncertainty exists over the line of demarcation and indeed the status of Assyria itself. Was the Assyrian heartland itself carved in two? The next question is the nature of Babylonian rule. Babylonia itself was administered as a network of provinces and tribal areas (with varying degrees of autonomy), but what was the situation in the territories outside of Babylonia? Did the Neo-Assyrian empire smoothly transition into the Neo-Babylonian empire with the Babylonians neatly take over the provincial administration set in place by the Assyrians? Did the western part of the empire fall apart in revolt or even simply as a consequence of the disappearance of central authority? Was the provincial network 1

For earlier remarks on the Neo-Babylonian army see Brinkman 1984, 36–37; Beaulieu 1989, 190–191; Frame 1992, 241–244. Some of the issues touched upon in this paper are also dealt with in further detail in the author’s monograph Arrows of the Sun: Armed Forces in Sippar in the First Millennium BC (in press). See also remarks in Kozuh 2006. 2 It is not clear what, if anything, the Cimmerians came away with in terms of territorial concessions. It may be that they were, on paper, assigned the northeastern corner of the Assyrian empire though there seems no likelihood that they would have been in a position to govern it or even exercise lordship. Alternatively it may be proposed that the Cimmerians were mercenaries and their reward came in the form of pay and loot.

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replaced with a bank of client kings? We can address these questions through a number of sources. Key among these are two building inscriptions from the time of Nebuchadnezzar, the Etemenanki inscription and the Istanbul fragment. The Etemenanki inscription (which is undated) commemorates Nebuchadnezzar’s renovation of the ziggurrat in Babylon. Important to our present purposes is that the text lists the place of origin of the labourers who worked on the project. After mentioning the troops/workmen (sābē) of Šamaš and Marduk―certainly meaning Sippar and Babylon―the text documents the participation of gangs from Ur, Uruk, Larsa, Eridu, Kullab, Nēmed-Laguda and the “land of Ugar-[x]”3 and then (after a break) Larak, the territories of the Puqūdu, Bīt-Dakkūri, Bīt-Amukāni and Birātu, and finally Dēr, Agade, Arrapha and Lahīru. This is all summed up as “the whole of the land of Akkad and the land of Assyria, the kings of Eber-Nāri, the governors of Hatti, from the Upper Sea to the Lower Sea”. As noted by Vanderhooft in his analysis of this list, Puqūdu, Bīt-Dakkūri, Bīt-Amukāni and Birātu are cities or tribal regions in central Babylonia while Dēr, Arrapha and Lahīru are all east of the Tigris and south of the Lower Zab, in territory which had been controlled by the Assyrians in the Sargonid period.4 The kings of Eber-Nāri evidently refer to the kings of the Phoenician coastal states (see below), while the governors of Hatti must refer to governors of the provinces of inland Syria. The terminology is not standardised―the Babylonian Chronicle also refers to the kings of Hattu5―but some confirmation of direct rule in Syria is provided by the attestation of a governor of Arpad in Nebuchadnezzar year 19.6 As regards Assyria, the Etemenanki inscription gives no indication what proportion of the country was under Babylonian control. In this respect an important addition to the data is a recently published text from the archives of the Ebabbara temple in Sippar which documents the receipt of tithes from the governor of Assur.7 This probably dates to the reign of Neriglissar. Andrae had indeed postulated that the two Neo-Babylonian temples at Assur had been built by the governor of the city.8 It would therefore appear that Assur at any rate fell within the sphere of the Babylonians. There is as yet no information on Nineveh.9 Finally, the Etemenanki inscription goes on to mention “the kings of distant islands in the upper sea and the kings of distant islands in the lower sea” though without specifying names.10 3

Possibly Ugar-Sallu, Vanderhooft 1999, 37 n. 134. Vanderhooft 1999, 39. 5 The Chronicle records how in his first year of Nebuchadnezzar “All the kings of Hattu came into his presence and he received their vast tribute” (Grayson 1975, 100). 6 Joannès 1994; Vanderhooft 1999, 99. 7 MacGinnis 2000, 336 BM 63283. 8 Andrae 1938, 164–166. 9 Though there is evidence to suggest that Nineveh was neither abandoned nor completely destroyed in 612 BC (Dalley 1993). 10 The former might allude to Arpad and Tyre while some confirmation of the latter comes from the discovery of an inscription of Nebuchadnezzar on the island of Failaka (Ferrara 1975). The empire may at times have also included Cilicia as far as the border of Piriddu and Lydia, cf. Lambert 1965, 7 v. 21; Grayson 1975, 103 (Chronicle 6.1), 105 (Chronicle 7 i.7). Cilicia was an important source of iron in this period. This analysis of the Neo-Babylonian empire is much indebted to Sack (2004) and Vanderhooft (1999, 36f., 90f.). 4

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The second major source is the Istanbul fragment. This dates to the 7th year of Nebuchadnezzar and deals with work on the Ezida in Borsippa.11 This too gives a list of the contributors, in this case starting with high court officials and going on to detail the prefects (šaknu) of the Sealand and of Iadburu,12 the “legitimate prefect” (šaknu kēnu) of Zamua;13 named individuals for major tribal groups (Tubliaš, Puqūdu, Dakkuru, Gambulu, Amu-kānu);14 the šangû’s15 of numerous cities (many broken off) including Dēr, Dūr-Iakin, Limētu, Matkallu, Nēmed-Lagūda, Kullabu, Udannu, Larsa, Kissik, Bakuššu, together with the qīpu’s of these cities;16 the governors of the provinces (only Sumandar and Dūr are preserved); and the kings of coastal cities of the Levant of which the names of Tyre, Gaza, Sidon, Arwad and Ashdod are preserved. The third document is BM 63570+, another archival text from the Ebabbara listing allocations of bundles of reeds to the qīpu’s of the temples of numerous cities along with the rab zammarē and a tupšar ēkalli by the name of Šamaš-šum-ukīn.17 The quantities involved are huge: the individual allocations are by the hundreds and the summation of 10,000 in line 2 is denoted as part of a larger total. As preserved the cities represented include Agade, Babylon, Borsippa, Cutha, Dēr, Dūr, Dūr-Enlil, Sippar, Ur and Uruk as well as Amurru “The West”.18 The fact that the text was written in Sippar indicates that this is where the allocations had been delivered.19 Clearly, therefore, they were for a project in Sippar or its environs. The obvious candidate is the Median Wall. Although BM 63570+ does add some names to the list of locations in the Etemenanki inscription and the Istanbul fragment, its importance is not so much this as providing independent evidence in support of the claims of Nebuchadnezzar that the cities of the whole of Babylonia participated in contributing to his great projects. Taking together these three sources list participations on the part of the high officials of the court; the cities of Babylonia; the tribal confederations of both Babylonia and the west; the governors of the Sealand, of the provinces east of the Tigris (Arrapha, Zamua, Lahīru, Dēr) and of the provinces in Syria (māt Hatti); the kings of 11

Vanderhooft 1999, 92. Reading in iv. 33 [PN šá KUR Ia-a]d-[b]u-ri rather than [Ia-a]p-[t]i-ri. For the location of this province on the Elamite border (perhaps between the Diyala and Dēr) see RlA Jad/tburu. 13 Perhaps the implication of the rather anomalous title šaknu kēnu is that he was the hereditary ruler of Zamua. 14 These were either the chiefs of the tribes or the government agents in charge of liaising with them. 15 Vanderhooft is surely wrong in following Oppenheim in rejecting the reading of lúKID.BAR = šangû. Presumably this is on the basis of the view once held that the šangû was a religious figure. This has now discounted. The šangû’s position at the head of the temple hierarchy was as a secular administrator and indeed it is not certain that he had any religious function at all. See MacGinnis 1995a, 114; MacGinnis 1995b; Bongenaar 1997, 11f. 16 Restoring lúqi-i-pi URUmeš [šu-a-ti] in column iv line 13. 17 The first fragment of this text was published by MacGinnis 1993, re-edited after the discovery of a new piece of the tablet in MacGinnis 2006. 18 It may be plausibly suggested that the qīpu of Amurru was a political agent responsible for dealing with the Aramean tribes in the west. 19 Hence the title of the original publication―“Qīpu’s receive”―is wrong: the qīpu’s were evidently delivering the contributions imposed on their respective cities. 12

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the Phoenician and Canaanite littoral; and the kings of islands in both the Mediterranean and the Persian Gulf. This, then, was the Neo-Babylonian empire, and the this picture does allow us to address the question of what happened to the Assyrian empire in at least general terms. The area east of the Tigris came into Babylonian control, as did Transpotamia. Very likely Assyria itself was divided in half with the Babylonians taking the south and the north going to the Medes. The degree of continuity maintained in these regions over the transition from Assyrian to Babylonian rule is difficult to judge and must in any case have been variable. Some of the provinces of Syria may have passed smoothly into Babylonian administration. The coastal states of the Levant gained independence albeit under Babylonian suzerainty.20 As regards the level of control exercised by the Neo-Babylonian monarchy over the empire, Vanderhooft has argued that the Assyrian provincial system had collapsed and that the NeoBabylonian empire was not a network of directly governed provinces but rather a zone of dominance from which the kings in Babylon exacted tribute.21 If correct it is worth noting that this is exactly how the Assyrian empire started out. However this view has been challenged by Sack who argues that there was no such decisive break with the Assyrian past.22 It would probably be fair to say that at the moment the evidence is just not sufficient for a definitive answer. If the preceding seems somewhat lengthy, it is nevertheless a necessary prelude to addressing the composition of the Neo-Babylonian army. And the texts discussed hint at another point which is important: the administrative procedures which succeeded in marshalling these labour forces from across the empire for engagement in state building projects were the very same which could be used for the raising of armies. Indeed, the men were the same men. The mobilisation of the empire could be used for aims of peace or war. In this respect the gearing for mobilisation was deeply embedded in Babylonian society. As regards the composition of the army this must mean that there were contingents from all of the sources outlined above―high officials of the court, the cities of the Babylonian core, tribal confederations, the provincial governments in Assyria, Syria and the east, the client kings of the Levant. How these various categories went about raising the necessary forces will have differed widely. The court officials will have had obligations placed on them in association with their tenure of landed estates―first and foremost chariot fiefs (which, if van Driel is proved right, entailed not just providing a chariot and crew but also a unit of accompanying infantry:23 the aim must certainly have been that this could have been called up as an integrated fighting unit). The contributions from Babylonian cities present a complex picture which we are only just beginning to understand. The temple administrations certainly had a part to play―more on this below―but in addition to this there may have been obligations placed on citizens as a consequence of urban property ownership and income. There may also have been bow fiefs independent of the great estates. In 20

This independence was subsequently lost once again to the Achaemenids, cf. for example the governor of Byblos attested in the reign of Darius I (Dandamayev 1995). 21 Vanderhooft 1999, 98. 22 Sack 2004, 89f. 23 Van Driel 2001, 233.


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the case of the tribal confederations, external provinces and the Levantine kingdoms we have no information on what procedures they used for recruitment. A final category which should be added to this list is that of mercenaries. Temple Contributions The above is limited to the field of generalities. But there is one sector where we are able to say more, namely with regard to the manpower fielded by the temples of the land. The evidence is essentially only from two institutions―the Eanna of Uruk and the Ebabbara of Sippar (and predominantly from the latter)―but there is no serious reason to doubt that similar or identical regimes were in force in all the major temple administrations of Babylonia. Nevertheless, this paper principally utilises the data from the Ebabbara. It is now well established that the temple raised its militia from the main body of temple dependents (širāku). Above all this meant those engaged in agriculture―farmers (ikkaru), gardeners, shepherds―but it also included individuals involved in most or all of the artisan professions. The fact that the ikkaru were tied to the land, and that the land could be rented out could lead to problems. Following the reforms of Nabonidus and the creation of the fermes générales, when huge swathes of temple land were granted in concessions to rent farmers with the title rab sūti/ša muhhi sūti, it was a duty of these rent farmers to supply the corresponding manpower as required. A good illustration of this is the lease contract BRM 1 101, edited by Jursa. In this text a certain Šamaš-kasir son of Nabû-mukīn-apli subcontracts from the rab sūti Bultāya a concession to farm half of the temple’s land, and it is noteworthy that one of the stipulations is that Šamaš-kasir will give the rab qašti half of the farmers and gardeners whom Bultāya is required to provide for bow duty.24 Another interesting case occurs in a text from the very end of the Ebabbara archives (Xerxes year 2) in which the well known rab sūti Birūqāya petitions the šangû Nabû-balassu-iqbi for seven men to work on his land. The situation here is that the qīpu Šamšāya had requisitioned seven ikkaru (in addition to an earlier requisition of smiths and a carpenter) for service in the corvée gang and that Birūqāya had subsequently found himself short of sufficient manpower to work his lands. Evidently Nabû-balassu-iqbi granted this request, and it of no little interest that the replacement manpower appears to have come from prisoners.25 The bulk of the soldiery furnished by the temples was archers. They were equipped with bows, bow-cases, arrows and daggers and might also be provided with donkeys for their work. Bows were manufactured and repaired by bowmakers in the employ of the temple, of which up to seven are attested. There were both Akkadian bows and Cimmerian bows and different Akkadian and Cimmerian arrowheads accordingly; each archer was issued from 40 to 60 arrows. The arrows were possibly made by leatherworkers while the arrowheads were manufactured by the temple smiths, who also manufactured daggers and heads for lances. Weaponry might also be purchased. As concerns the total number of archers that the Ebabbara could field, we can give no definitive answer though we can hazard some guesses. A number which 24 25

Jursa 1995, 103; MacGinnis 1998b. MacGinnis 2007, 95–97. For more on the corvée gang see MacGinnis 2003.

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recurs repeatedly in lists of issues is fifty. On the other hand, CT 56 481+, a list of agricultural workers serving as archers, suggests a levy of about 14%.26 Applying this to the proposed total of 1,300 for adult males dependent on the temple27 would yield a force of approximately 180. It may be then that routinely the temple fielded a force of 50 archers, and that in times of greater demand this could be increased three or four fold. By comparison, texts from Uruk variously give figures of 50, 70 and 100 archers.28 The archers were organised into decuries composed according to profession, i.e. there were separate decuries of shepherds, farmers and gardeners. Each decury was led by a rab eširti and the corps as a whole was under the command of the rab qašti who in turn came under the qīpu. As regards cavalry, there is not a great deal of information on temple commitments, but it does appear that the Ebabbara was responsible for resourcing at least 12 horsemen. The quota for Uruk will certainly have been greater. For chariotry, the evidence is also sparse but it is noteworthy that in Sippar all three members of a chariot crew―mār damqa, mukīl appāti, tašlīšu―are mentioned in the texts in one context or another. It may be that the temple itself furnished just one chariot, which would then almost certainly have served as the command platform of the qīpu. Fiefs Moving on from the temples, the category for which we have the next most abundant information―though a far second―is fiefs. The documentation for the different categories―bow fiefs, horse fiefs and chariot fiefs29―is however very uneven in terms of both quantity and temporal distribution. Nevertheless, it seems highly probable that fiefs were integral to the state system of raising troops in Babylonia. Starting with bow fiefs, we do not know exactly when these were first instituted―or reinstituted―in Babylonia but the time of the earliest attestation has been progressively pushed back from the time of Cambyses to Nabonidus to Nebuchadnezzar.30 It may be that they have their origins in the period of Assyrian rule. As regards the numbers involved, there is no useful data from the Neo-Babylonian period but a recent evaluation of the data in the Murašû archives estimates an absolute maximum of 2,000 for the number of bow fiefs in the environs of Nippur.31 This does at least give us an idea of the order of magnitude involved.

26

Jursa 1995, 8–9; cf. Stolper 2001, 126 n. 61. MacGinnis 2004b. 28 During the Šamaš-šum-ukīn revolt Uruk raised 500 or 600 archers to go to the aid of Ur, while on another occasion mention is made of 1,000 archers stationed in Ur (Frame 1992, 244). There is however a problem with these figures (particularly the higher ones) in that we do not whether they came from just the temple organisations of the named cities or from a wider range of sources. Another text, probably from Borsippa, talks of 300 širku’s sent to Aššur as archers (this probably dates to the twelfth year of Nabopolassar; Ungnad 1937, 250). 29 An erstwhile fourth category―bīt ritti―is now discounted, indeed the term itself may be a misnomer: see the section on bīt ritti’s in the author’s Arrows of the Sun (in press). 30 Jursa 1998b; cf. MacGinnis 1998a, 214. 31 Van Driel 2002, 321. 27


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Horse fiefs are not directly attested in the Neo-Babylonian material at all.32 It may be guessed that high officials were required to supply cavalry in addition to their chariot units, but we do not know this for sure. It may also be that there was a tier of lower nobles/free men (mār banê) who held individual horse fiefs. The evidence for chariot fiefs is also disparate, just a handful of attestations of an administrative nature. The most important recent contribution is the proposal of van Driel that the chariot fief comprised more than just the chariot and its equipment; it also involved the support personnel and it also had a rab qašti.33 However, as van Driel notes, what we do not know is “whether the chariot, horse and bow fiefs were always linked in a fixed (command?) structure, through which the other fiefs were grouped around the chariot fief”. And leading on from this, was the manpower raised from fiefs integrated with that from the temples into a single command structure? Was it organised into a completely different structure? Important as these questions are, again we simply do not know. Citizenry The next sector from which troops could be raised was from the citizen body. As Jursa has shown in his research on the archives of Bēl-rēmanni and Nidinti-Marduk, free citizens were liable to perform bow service. We do not know the precise legal basis of this service but Jursa suggests it may have arisen either as a result of urban tax obligations or because it was a duty incumbent on all citizens.34 This citizen militia was also divided into decuries, once again organised according to profession.35 The service could be commuted into payments in silver―apparently at a rate of 1 mina per year―though this may not have exempted the individuals concerned from the performance of occasional civic duties. Deportees The Neo-Babylonian kings transported tens of thousands of people from their conquered lands into Babylonia. These fell into two categories, prisoners of war led off and given to the major temples, and communities deported en masse. In the case of Sippar, we have plentiful evidence for Egyptians, evidently settled in the community at Bīt Misirāya (attested from Nabonidus year 15) and less for other nationalities―Assyrians, Cilicians, Gezerites and individuals from Byblos and Birītu.36

32

This refers to the Neo-Babylonian period―from the Persian period there is more, particularly the text published by Ebeling 1952. 33 Van Driel 2002, 233. 34 Jursa 1999, 109; see also van Driel 2002, 294 for taxes on urban property. 35 For further information on decuries of bowmen see Abraham 2004, 42, 57f. 36 Jursa 1998a No. 7, cf. p. 25–27 (Gezer); CT 56 638 (3 Biritāyan individuals and one from Byblos), CT 56 758 (7 Biritāya). For captives involved in the manufacture of a statue see MacGinnis 1995b.

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Tribal contributions It is likely that the major tribal federations of Babylonia will have contributed men to the central army, at least on occasions. As seen, both the Etemenanki Inscription and the Istanbul Fragment indicate such contributions for the use of the state (albeit in those instance for peaceful construction work). This must have been more or less at the discretion of the tribal leaders; the king would certainly have been unable to coerce them into compliance without a major application of force. It is not easy to say exactly what benefit the tribes received in return, though perhaps the agreement to furnish troops was part of the deal of recognising their autonomy. Simple employment may have been another issue. Mercenaries This is an aspect of the Neo-Babylonian army about which we are at present able to say very little. The presence of Greek mercenaries in the army of Nebuchadnezzar is known from a celebrated poem of Alcaeus37 and there is no reason to think that there will not have been mercenaries of other origins as well.38 Mobilisation and Deployment As already noted, the population of Babylonia appears to have been thoroughly organised into ešertu “decuries”. This system connected directly to the actual composition of society, with members of the same socio-economic class and of the same profession being grouped together. Accordingly, we can expect the ešertu’s to have been based on family relationships. In this way “the ešertu also had an inbuilt property link, in which general obligations of the subject were linked to, or could evolve into a primarily property based taxation system”.39 The existence of the ešertu’s provided an automatic mechanism for mobilising the population―the basic procedure was for the dēkû “mobiliser” to simply direct his orders via the rab eširti’s.40 As regards the brass tacks, once again the evidence comes overwhelmingly from the domain of the temples. There is evidence for the temples supplying their personnel with clothing and arms and with provisions for undertaking service away from home (the latter designated by the term “rikis qabli”).41 Rations are issued to men heading out on campaign in the form of dates, barley and sheep, and silver was paid out both for these and for the water bottles, cress, salt and oil required. Blankets, jerkins, tents, sacks, shoes, horses and donkeys were also supplied. Rations were issued for men taking supplies to the levy camp and boats might be hired for this purpose. As for the length of deployment, evidence is both thin and equivocal―there are indications for both three months and a full year. 37

Dandamayev / Lukonin 1989, 302. A recent conjecture of Waerzeggers (2006), that Carians settled in Borsippa were retired mercenaries seems highly plausible, though this case dates to the early Achaemenid period. 39 Van Driel 2002, 295. 40 Van Driel 2002, 295. 41 The texts detailing such issues have been most recently surveyed by MacGinnis 1998. 38


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Conclusion In summary, we are becoming increasingly aware that Babylonia was geared to the raising of armed forces through multiple channels―temple domains, urban citizenry, tribal structures and fiefs. The eširtu organisation of society provided for a ready generation of soldiers from the available population. Together these elements formed what might be fairly called the Babylonian military-agricultural complex. This is particularly well documented with regard to the temples. In the case of Eanna this has been very well put by Kozuh: If nothing else, Eanna’s self-equipped and centralized forces, in addition to its metal workers, stocked storehouses, arms depots and warehouses, ready-made cavalry and urban location, made it both a productive asset in times of political stability and a potentially dangerous source of opposition in times of political disintegration or fragmentation ...... Eanna was a force unto itself that promoted its own interests and had to be co-opted by the royal administration at Babylon through trade-offs and concessions.42 A similar situation will have held with all the other major temples of the land. In addition to the contributions from temples, citizens, tribes and fiefs there will also have been mercenaries, deportees, prisoners of war and perhaps units from subject states subsumed into the Babylonian army en bloc. Exactly how, or even whether, these elements were combined into a single army is at present beyond us. Beaulieu, for example, interprets entries in the Babylonian Chronicle to mean that Nabonidus went to Tema with the army of Babylonia (emūq Akkad), leaving Belshazzar at home in charge of an army consisting of mercenaries and contingents levied from conquered lands (ummān mātitān).43 If that is correct, it must surely have been a procedure that put the stability of the empire at risk. That, however, is another story.44 Bibliography Abraham, K., 2004: Business and Politics under the Persian Empire. Bethesda. Andrae, W., 1938: Das wiedererstehende Assur. Leipzig. Beaulieu, P. A., 1989: The Reign of Nabonidus King of Babylon 567–539 BC. Yale. Brinkman, J. A., 1984: Prelude to Empire. Philadelphia. Dalley, S., 1993: Nineveh after 612 BC. AoF 20, 134–147. Dandamayev, M. A., 1995: A governor of Byblos in Sippar. In K. van Lerberghe / A. Schoors (eds.): Immigration and Emigration Within the Ancient Near East. Festschrift E. Lipiński. Leuven. Pp. 29–31.

42

Kozuh 2006, 239. Beaulieu 1989, 191. 44 It is of no little interest that such a development would indeed be recreating, at least in part, the very conditions which had contributed to the collapse of the Assyrian empire. These include misjudgement of the threat, invasion from Iran, dilution of the native population by deportation and immigration exacerbated by external deployment of native troops and members of the ruling classes, and at least partial transmission of the provincial system to the successor empire. These issues are surely worthy of further study. 43

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― 1999a: Achaemenid Imperial Policies and Provincial Governments. Iranica Antiqua 34, 269–282. ― 1999b: A Neo-Babylonian Colony in Transpotamia?. ArOr 67, 541–545. Dandamayev, M. A. / Lukonin, V. G., 1989: The Culture and Social Institutions of Ancient Iran. Cambridge. Driel, G. van, 2002: Elusive Silver―In Search of a Role for a Market in an Agrarian Environment: Aspects of Mesopotamian Society. Leiden. Ebeling, E., 1952: Die Rüstung eines babylonischen Panzerreiters nach einem Vertrage aus der Zeit Darius II. ZA 50, 203–214. Ferrara, A. J., 1975: An inscribed stone of Nebuchadnezzar. JCS 27, 231–232. Frame, G., 1992: Babylonia 689–627 BC. A Political History. Leiden. Grayson, A. K., 1975: Assyrian and Babylonian Chronicles. New York. Joannès, F., 1994: Une visite du gouverneur d’Arpad. NABU 1994/1, No. 20. Jursa, M., 1999 : Das Archiv des Bēl-rēmanni. Leiden. ― 2008a: Nabû-šarrussu-ukīn, rab ša rēši, und Nebusarsekim. NABU 2008/1, No. 5. ― 2008b: Höflinge (ša rēši, ša rēš šarri, ustarbarru) in babylonischen Quellen des ersten Jahrtausends. In J. Wiesehöfer / G. Lanfranchi / R. Rollinger (eds.): Die Welt des Ktesias. Oriens und Occidens. Stuttgart. Kinnier Wilson, J. V. / Finkel, I., 2007: On būsānu and di’u, or why Nabonidus went to Tema. Journal des Médecines Cunéiformes 9, 16–22. Kozuh, M., 2006: The Sacrificial Economy: on the Management of Sacrificial Sheep and Goats at the Neo-Babylonian / Achaemenid Eanna Temple of Uruk (c. 625– 520 BC). Unpublished dissertation submitted to the Department of Near Eastern Languages and Civilisations of the University of Chicago. Lambert, W. G., 1965: Nebuchadnezzar King of Justice. Iraq 27, 1–11. MacGinnis, J. D. A., 1993: Qīpu’s receive. NABU 1993/4, No. 93. ― 1994: The Royal Establishment at Sippar in the Sixth Century BC. ZA 84, 198– 219. ― 1995a: Letter Orders from Sippar and the Administration of the Late Babylonian Ebabbara. Poznan. ― 1995b: The šatammu of Sippar. WO 26, 21–26. ― 1998: BM 64707 and rikis qabli in the Ebabbara. WZKM 88, 177–183. ― 2000: Review of Jursa, Der Tempelzehnt in Babylonien vom 7 bis zum 3 Jhdt v. Chr. Orientalia 69, 332–335. ― 2002: Working in Elam. In C. Wunsch (ed.): Mining the Archives. Festschrift for Christopher Walker on the Occasion of his 60th Birthday. Dresden. Pp. 177–182. ― 2003: A corvée gang from the time of Cyrus. ZA 93, 88–115. ― 2004a: Temple ventures across the river. Transeuphratène 27, 29–353. ― 2004b: Servants of the Sun God: Numbering the dependents of the Neo-Babylonian Ebabbara. Baghdader Mitteilungen 35, 29–38. ― 2006: Further evidence for intercity co-operation between Neo-Babylonian temples. JRAS 12, 127–132. ― 2007: Fields of endeavour: leasing and releasing the lands of Šamaš. JEOL 40, 91–101. Mieroop, M. van de, 1997: The Ancient Mesopotamian City. Oxford.


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Sack, R. H., 2004: Images of Nebuchadnezzar: The Emergence of a Legend (second edition). Selinsgrove / London / Toronto. Unger, E., 1931: Babylon, die heilige Stadt. Berlin. Ungnad, A., 1937: Babylonische Kriegsanleihen. Orientalia 6, 245–251. Vanderhooft, D. S., 1999: The Neo-Babylonian Empire and Babylon in the Later Prophets. Harvard. Waerzeggers, C., 2006: The Carians of Borsippa. Iraq 68, 1–22.

A Lion in the Cedar Forest International Politics and Pictorial Self-Representations of Nebuchadnezzar II (605–562 BC)

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“A great eagle with large wings and long pinions, full of feathers of various colours, came to Lebanon and took from the cedar the highest branch. He cropped off its topmost young twig and carried it to a land of trade; he set it in a city of merchants.” (Ezekiel 17: 3–4) I. Introduction Nebuchadnezzar II (605–562 BC) was a charismatic king with a long reign, whose military achievements turned Babylon into a world power.2 Under his rule, Babylon 1

I received the prize “ICREA Acadèmia” for excellence in research, funded by the Generalitat de Catalunya. The Spanish Ministry of Science and Innovation granted me a scholarship of the José Castillejo-Program to work at the University of Vienna between October 2008 and February 2009. The present article was completed at the Institut für Orientalistik of that University, where I was given the friendliest of welcomes. The study of the inscriptions on which this article is based took place between 2005 and 2008 and was made possible with the financial support provided by the Spanish Ministry of Education and Science, and by the University of Barcelona (Vicerectorat de Mobilitat i Relacions Internacionals and Vicerectorat de Recerca). Mr F. Husseini, General Director of Antiquities of Lebanon, granted permission to study the monuments of Nahr-el Kalb, Brisa, Shir es-Sanam and Wadi es-Saba‘ between 2005 and 2008; and A.-M. Afeiche and L. Salloum of the General Directorate of Antiquities (Lebanon) offered their help and assistance during the study. The study in situ of the Lebanese inscriptions of Shir es-Sanam and Wadi es-Saba‘ would not have been possible without the assistance provided by S. Tricoli and by the Association Libanaise d’Etudes Spéléologiques (ALES). I also wish to thank J. Vidal for the kind invitation to participate in this volume, and M. Jursa for reading the final version of the text. The transcription of the Arabic names has been adapted to the aims of this article, I have simply tried to be as consistent as possible, and would like to thank S. Prochazka for his help with the Arabic toponyms. I also wish to express my gratitude to W. G. E. Watson for correcting the English text (of course, he should not be accountable for any shortcomings in this respect). The map (Fig. 1) was drawn by R. Álvarez (DPHAyA, UB); Figs. 2–7 are the author’s. Of course, none of the persons and institutions mentioned above is responsible for any errors, faults or omissions of any kind. 2 For the reign of Nebuchadnezzar, see Arnaud 2004, Streck 1998–2001, and Wiseman 1985.

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reached its maximum territorial extension, annexing―not without difficulty―extensive zones previously under Assyrian control, and curtailing Egyptian influence in the area of Syria and the Levant. As a result of these campaigns, raw materials and manufactured goods from faraway regions flowed into Babylon, the great capital of the empire, where magnificent temples were erected to glorify the gods, especially Marduk, and great palaces were constructed to celebrate the power of the monarch. The economic and social prosperity enjoyed by Babylonia during those forty-three years is clearly apparent in the thousands of cuneiform documents found in the private and official archives of different Mesopotamian cities.3 The political ideology of the empire can be traced in the numerous royal inscriptions, in which Nebuchadnezzar portrayed himself as a devout and pious man, as a king of justice, and as a shepherd for his people. In the texts, we can also observe the monarch’s determination to establish links with the Babylonian past, with the tradition that existed in the land before the Assyrian domination, a tradition which went back as far as Sargon of Agade (24th–23rd centuries BC) and Hammurabi of Babylon (18th century BC).4 If in economic and social aspects Nebuchadnezzar’s reign was one of prosperity and development, the military campaigns aimed at enlarging―and alas, also at protecting―the frontiers of Babylonia, revealed themselves to be crucial and time-consuming issues for the monarch. The military operations undertaken by the king, directed against the Egyptians in the West and against the Medes in the East, are the main topics in the Babylonian Chronicles preserved for his reign.5 Nebuchadnezzar appears in these texts as a warrior king from the very beginning of his reign. Already in his accession year, the Babylonian army defeated Pharaoh Necho at the battle of Carchemish, advancing towards the south and seizing Lebanon, Western Syria and Palestine, placing all the area south of Homs under Babylonian control.6 In that moment, the stronghold of Riblah (modern Rable7 in Syria) was seized by the Babylonians, who turned it into their western headquarters.8 The history of Nebuchadnezzar’s presence in the West is also a history of battles against local kings who had taken advantage of the weakness of the last Assyrian kings to gain independence.9 The control and pacification of those extensive lands was no easy task, and the king’s armies were active in Syria during nearly every year for which chronicles survive (from his accession to his eleventh regnal year). We have no further historiographical records documenting Nebuchadnezzar’s military practices in the West after 594 BC, only secondary and tertiary sources help us to reconstruct the events during the 3

For an overview of the archives, see Jursa 2005. In these historical allusions and appeals to tradition, Nebuchadnezzar follows the discourse inaugurated by his father Nabopolassar, which was to be continued also by the other NeoBabylonian kings. See Beaulieu 2003. 5 Glassner 2004, 226–231. 6 For the events in Phoenicia and Palestine during the reign of Nebuchadnezzar, see Müller 1970/1971, 192–194, 201. 7 The transcription of Arabic toponyms has been simplified. 8 According to the Bible (II Kings 23: 31–35), Riblah “in the land of Hamath” had previously been an Egyptian military base (see Von Voigtlander 1963, 10642). For other references, see Wiseman 1985, 17115. 9 For a brief presentation of the campaigns in Syria, see Klengel 1992, 231–234. 4

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following years.10 In 587 BC, Jerusalem was conquered, and part of its population deported to Babylon, although a second deportation was needed in 582 BC in order to put down the last stronghold of rebellion. Lachish was also captured, and all the coastal kingdoms except Tyre came to terms with the new situation. Tyre fell in 573 BC,11 and the situation in the West was temporarily stabilized around 568 BC, with the area of Gaza marking the border between the Egyptian and the Babylonian areas of influence. Syria and the Levant were probably not completely pacified after this year, but we lack any other information concerning events in the West during the last years of Nebuchadnezzar’s reign. From the above it is clear that Nebuchadnezzar’s main military activities took place in the West, around Riblah, from where the king was probably directing military operations against Egypt and against local rebellions. It is thus logical to expect Neo-Babylonian archaeological evidence in the Levant, but the evidence is meagre. Perhaps the reduced lifespan of the empire can account for this lack of evidence,12 but there are other reasons. The main problems are the difficulty of identifying material as “Neo-Babylonian” in the Levantine sites, and the lack of typical Babylonian objects such as seals, cuneiform tablets or architecture in the archaeological record.13 This paucity is not exclusive to the coastal sites: in the surveys made in the Biqa‘ Valley, the absence of Neo-Babylonian material is also evident.14 In the abundant economic and administrative texts dated to the reign of Nebuchadnezzar, references to Phoenician cities and settlements in the Lebanon area are not very numerous either.15 By contrast, the area of Syria, Lebanon and Palestine appears frequently in the chronicles of the reign of Nebuchadnezzar due to the difficulties encountered by the Neo-Babylonians in controlling and pacifying the region. In these texts, the whole area of Syria and the Eastern Mediterranean corridor is called Hattu, without further specification. But we know there were clear administrative and geographical differences in the territories of the western realm of the empire. These distinctions are revealed to us in the text preserved in two cylinder inscriptions of Nebuchadnezzar reporting the building of Etemenanki and Eurmeiminanki respectively. Both texts share common passages listing cities, regions and lands within the empire which contributed to the construction of the ziqqurrats. At the beginning of these lists, we 10 See Müller 1970/1971, 192–193. For a summary of the available sources, see Da Riva 2008, 8–14. 11 For the cuneiform documentation regarding Tyre in the last years of Nebuchadnezzar’s reign, see Kleber 2008, 145ff. 12 So Akkermans / Schwartz 2003, 389. 13 A good presentation of current research in Iron Age archaeology in the Levant can be found in Sader 2006, with bibliography on p. 27. For the southern Levant, see Vanderhooft 2003, 253. The lack of data is not limited to the material culture and architectural structures; the epigraphic material is also very scarce. By contrast, the preceding period (Neo-Assyrian) is archaeologically much better documented in Syria and on the coast; see Akkermans / Schwartz 2003, 379–386. 14 See Marfoe 1998, 217, 224ff. for the paucity of archaeological evidence for Iron Age II in the region. 15 For some Phoenician cities mentioned in economic texts, see Zadok 1985, 29 (Armada/ Arwad), 32 (Ašdūdu/Ashdod), 158 (Hazzati/Gaza), 279 (Sīdūnu/Sidon), and 281 (Sūru/Tyre). For Tyre, see the new and revealing evidence presented by Kleber 2008, 141–154; see also Jursa (in press).

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find toponyms located in Babylonia and Assyria, and then an allusion to unspecified kings of the West. The texts clearly differentiate between three regions: Hattu (Syria), Eber-nāri (the Eastern Mediterranean corridor) and Nēberti-Purattu (Upper Syria).16 Still according to the inscriptions, Hattu and Nēberti-Purattu were ruled by provincial governors, whereas the coastal region of Eber-nāri was ruled by kings. This distinction seems to point to a lesser involvement of Babylonia in the coastal area than in other zones of Syria. Another text with information regarding the western territories of the empire is Nebuchadnezzar’s Prism,17 in which many Levantine and Phoenician kings (called lugal/šarru) are listed among the court dignitaries, tribal leaders and provincial governors of the empire. The last lines of the prism list the kings of Tyre, Gaza, Sidon, Arwad and Ashdod.18 The rest of the text is broken, so we lack more information as to the full extent of Nebuchadnezzar’s realm. The information outlined above is too poor to study Babylonian practices in Syria and the Levant at the time of Nebuchadnezzar, and we have seen the paucity of the textual data and the lack of archaeological sites with clear Neo-Babylonian strata. There is however, some archaeological evidence found in situ regarding Nebuchadnezzar’s presence in the West. This evidence comes from Lebanon, the land where the monarch sought the cedar wood necessary for the building of his temples and palaces. Nebuchadnezzar ordered the carving of inscriptions and reliefs portraying his royal person on rock faces located in strategical places,19 in valleys and along routes to mountains and forests (Fig. 1). So far, four sites have been reported as having Nebuchadnezzar’s inscriptions and/or reliefs: 1. Nahr el-Kalb: In the pass of the Dog River, some 12 km to the north of Beirut, fragments of two inscriptions have been identified. No relief is preserved. 2 Brisa: In the north of the Biqa‘ Valley, not far from Hermel, two inscriptions, rather well preserved with their respective carved reliefs, were engraved on rock faces in a ravine called Wadi esh-Sharbin. 3. Shir es-Sanam: Some 20 km from the inscriptions of Brisa towards the northwest, in Jabal Qamuha, stand the inscription and the relief of Shir es-Sanam. The inscription is almost illegible now, but the carved relief with the image of the king is still clear on the rock wall. 4. Wadi es-Saba‘: At a distance of approximately 30 km from Shir es-Sanam, near the sources of the ‘Ain es-Saba‘ in the ravine of the same name, two reliefs, one of them with the illegible remains of an inscription, have been attributed to Nebuchadnezzar. The relief with the inscription is nearly iden16

Vanderhooft 2003, 241. The only royal inscription of this king with a certain date: 598–597 BC. It was drafted the year in which Jerusalem was conquered. 18 And the kings of two further cities, the first one is kurmir-[x x] and the second one entirely missing. The land of Mir[...] is perhaps to be restored Samsimurūma, a city on the Mediterranean coast north of Nahr el-Kalb, see Vanderhooft 2003, 239. 19 In order to carve reliefs and inscriptions, a fairly large area of solid rock face is needed. There are many such rock faces in the ravines of esh-Sharbin and es-Saba‘; but the artist must certainly have had problems finding a suitable spot in Shir es-Sanam and Nahr el-Kalb, where due to the fragmentation of the limestone, the rocks are considerably smaller. 17


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tical to the one found at Shir es-Sanam. Despite their importance, these monuments have not attracted the attention they deserve.20 The texts of Nahr el-Kalb and Brisa were published more than one hundred years ago.21 And the reliefs of Brisa and Wadi es-Saba‘ have appeared in a volume dedicated to Western Asiatic monuments and reliefs,22 but have not been studied thoroughly. Finally, the relief of Shir es-Sanam was discovered in the late sixties of the 20th century23 but it has never been studied or even been included in catalogues of Near Eastern monumental art.24 The few studies and publications available with reference to this material are limited to the purely philological edition of the texts or to the iconographic description of the reliefs. No attempts at studying the monuments within a broader frame have been made. The aim of this essay is to review the existing epigraphic and iconographic evidence of Nebuchadnezzar II’s military activities in modern-day Lebanon, and to analyse the use and function of the inscriptions and rock reliefs left by him in the course of his Western campaigns. Here we would like to offer a new interpretation of the inscriptions and of the political iconography of the carved reliefs, studying the monuments within their geopolitical context and understanding them as messages produced by the Babylonian king and aimed at a very specific audience. These monuments are expressions of political statements aimed at the passer-by, but especially at local kings or rulers and at potential military opponents. II. The Geographical Location and Intended Audience of the Monuments In contrast to stelae, statues and other kinds of images of Mesopotamian monarchs placed in palaces, temples or shrines, and accessible to only a few privileged persons, rock reliefs were intended for a much broader public as they were situated in open places and were visible to all in a permanent display. Some monuments, like the ones in Wadi es-Saba‘ (WS2) or Shir es-Sanam are not directly accessible without a certain amount of climbing. Even so, they are much closer to the potential viewer than other rock inscriptions, such as Nabonidus’ rock relief in Sela‘ (Jordan)25 or the Bisotun (Iran) inscriptions of Darius,26 which are very difficult to reach. 20

There is another rock-inscription by king Nabonidus at Sela‘ in Jordan; see Schaudig 2001, 544 with bibliography. 21 Weissbach 1906; with the later additions Unger / Weissbach 1914 and Scheil 1917. 22 Börker-Klähn 1982, 228, Nr. 259–260 (Brisa); 231 Nr. 268–269 (Wadi es-Saba‘). 23 Talon 1968. 24 The author of this article is currently preparing editions of the Nahr el-Kalb and Brisa inscriptions, and studies of the Shir es-Sanam (el-Qbayyat) and Wadi es-Saba‘ monuments for the General Directorate of Antiquities (DGA) of Lebanon. The edition of the Nahr el-Kalb Nebuchadnezzar inscription will appear in a volume dedicated to the Nahr el-Kalb monuments (Afeiche, in press). 25 The Sela‘ relief was carved on a steep cliff, 80 m above the ground; the monument is visible at a distance of 200 m. In antiquity, it must have been impossible to reach the place without climbing with the use of ropes. To make the engraving at that time, the agile artists needed to use light scaffolding and some ropes (Dalley / Goguel 1997, 169–170). 26 The Darius relief stands 66 metres above the surrounding plain and is clearly visible from a great distance, but only a mountaineer with a set of ropes could get close enough to read the

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The settings chosen for these monuments clearly demonstrate that their visibility was a factor in the selection of the location. But the difficulty in getting nearer to some of these monuments suggests that the possibility of a close examination of the relief and reading the text were not considered necessary. Probably the mere view of the monument from afar was sufficient to convey the message. However, note that there are plenty of examples in Mesopotamia of texts produced and placed in a way that made them inaccessible to the contemporary reader.27 All the inscriptions and reliefs are located in the remotest strategical places, in exposed points along commercial and military routes, linking different valleys and geographical areas and leading from one zone to another. Apart from a geopolitical or practical value, the chosen spots might have had symbolic importance, perhaps connected to religious or historical events.28 In all but two monuments,29 the inscription and the relief were found together, forming a dual message in which text and image complemented each other. In all cases, the zones selected to create the monument were important junctions or points of passage: the selection of the setting was deliberate. Of course, this choice was determined by the geopolitical context of the monuments. We are dealing here with political statements, both written and iconographic, made by the Babylonian king to two groups of addressees: contemporary and future. The contemporary public is formed by the indigenous people of the Lebanon Mountain and of the coast, who were subjected to the Babylonian yoke by means of tribute and military control. The monuments were also warning messages aimed at potential opponents, who may have been tempted to rebel or seize the territories under Babylonian control. In this respect the Neo-Assyrian monuments in the West had a similar function,30 even if the iconographical motifs chosen in the Neo-Babylonian reliefs were less aggressive. For the controlled populations, the monuments functioned as an expression of Babylonian power and of the Babylonian king’s right of conquest. The reliefs and inscriptions were also aimed at potential enemies and other kings who may have tried to seize these territories under Babylonian control. They are an unavoidable reminder of Babylonian power in the area. The pictorial messages contained in the reliefs and inscriptions were cast in a familiar visual language, since they would have been comprehensible to almost anyone passing by, so the choice of the iconographic motifs was determined by the intended audience. As Morgan has pointed out, images, as “any medium of communication (...) can be inscriptions; see Luschey 1968, 66. 27 The foundation inscriptions and building inscriptions were especially intended to be found by a future king while undertaking repairs or construction works on the building (see Talon 1993, 421). Paving-stones or bricks with royal inscriptions were laid with the text face down or inside, thus concealed from the passer-by (Da Riva 2008, 37). These cases demonstrate that the written word was powerful enough; it did not even need to be read (see Schaudig 2001, 67). 28 This is highly speculative, but not altogether improbable, since similar reasons played a role in the selection of the spot for the Bisitum inscription, see Bae 2001, 12f. 29 At Wadi es-Saba‘ 1 no inscription was engraved to acccompany the relief, and at Nahr elKalb there are no remains of any iconographic representation together with the inscription. The existence of a relief, now lost, at Nahr el-Kalb, should not be ruled out; see below. 30 Gerlach 2000, 245.


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laden with information, densely encoded with ideas, values, or feelings that certain viewers are able to discern. Images can also be interpreted in ways their makers (...) did not intend (...). In either case, an image is a visual medium that can act as an instrument of influence.”31 The texts were required to be read, but cuneiform was only accessible to a much reduced minority which was probably not passing by the monuments every day. One can imagine that, even if most of the potential audience could neither read nor write Akkadian, the monumentality of the cuneiform writing would have surely impressed the passer-by, even if he was unable to understand a single sign.32 There was a further group of people forming the intended audience of the inscriptions: future generations. In the tradition of Neo-Babylonian royal inscriptions, a future public was also considered in the production of monuments. This is the context in which we should understand the last lines of the Brisa inscription: “I wrote an inscription in the mountain passes and established (it) with my royal image for ever after”.33 In royal inscriptions, kings often describe the quest for and discovery of old texts, and in many cases they admit to having read them. Nebuchadnezzar and Nabonidus treated ancient inscriptions with the outmost care, probably in the hope that their own texts would be treated in the same way.34 The king sought a projection in time of his deeds and of his image, a message to future generations. The inscriptions would assure the reputation of the king, not only with regard to the contemporary public, but also to the public of the future. In this sense, the selection of natural rock as a support for the inscription guarantees its longlasting character.35 III. The Sites 1. Nahr el-Kalb The Nebuchadnezzar inscriptions at Nahr el-Kalb belong to a group of twenty-two stelae, reliefs and inscribed monuments carved from the II millennium BC to our times in a promontory called Ras el-Kalb. It is in the Dog River pass,36 which marks the boundary between the districts of Metn and Keserwan in the Governorate of Mount Lebanon. The Nahr el-Kalb pass was part of the Via Maris (the “sea route”), the most important coastal route of the Ancient Near East, linking the area of Nahr el-Kabir in the North with the zone of Mount Carmel in the South.37 As an alterna31

Morgan 2005, 68. Even nowadays, the mysterious writing attracts the attention of the superstitious layman who, unaware of the significance of the inscriptions, often destroys them in the hope that they will give access to hidden marvels. The lower parts of inscriptions WBA and WS2 seem to have been removed, in the search for a non-existent tunnel leading to treasure (see below); and many of Hadrian’s rock inscriptions in Lebanon have been split with dynamite for the same reason: H. Abdul-Nour, personal communication. 33 WBC X 6–9. 34 Da Riva 2008, 26f. 35 Even if on some occasions the passage of time has been unkind to the monuments: natural erosion and deliberate human destruction have hindered the preservation of both text and reliefs, for instance in Wadi es-Saba‘, in Shir es-Sanam or in Nahr el-Kalb. 36 For the site of Nahr el-Kalb, see Afeiche (in press). 37 Sader 2000, 69ff. 32

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tive to the Biqa‘ Valley in the communication between Syria and Palestine, the Via Maris presented many difficulties due to the proximity of the mountain and the sea off the Lebanese coast. In some sections of the pass, there were gaps in the road and some “engineering works”, such as bridges, roads, etc., were needed in order to allow the transit of caravans, armies and pack animals. One of these complicated spots was Ras el-Kalb. Perhaps it was this difficulty that prompted different rulers to engrave stelae, reliefs and inscriptions in the rocks of the promontory. Beginning with the Ramessides in the XIII century BC, many conquerors, Nebuchadnezzar among them, left the imprint of their military presence in the Levant by means of inscribed monuments. This means that “imitation”, the desire to emulate and surpass previous rulers, should be included in the motivation for the placing of these inscriptions. Whereas all the inscriptions (Egyptian, Neo-Assyrian, Greek, Roman, Mediaeval, etc.) are carved on the southern promontory (Ras el-Kalb), the Nebuchadnezzar text stands isolated on the valley’s northern slope. The monument must have looked imposing at the time, as it would have stood between the mountain and the river, and would have been clearly visible from the opposite bank. The choice of this location must undoubtedly have had a political and symbolic significance of its own, perhaps best understood within the ensemble of Nahr el-Kalb: Nebuchadnezzar’s inscription faced, challenged and superseded the Egyptian and Neo-Assyrian inscriptions carved on Ras el-Kalb, which were, at the time of the Babylonian monarch, the only existing monuments at the site.38 This symbolic challenge was an expression of the actual political struggle between Nebuchadnezzar and the Egyptians for control of Levant, and an evocation of the defeat of the Assyrians by the Neo-Babylonian dynasty in the last decades of the VII century BC. Nebuchadnezzar left two inscriptions at Nahr el-Kalb; the remains of which (five fragments) extend some 2 metres high and approximately 5·8 metres long: one inscription was written in Old-Babylonian characters and the other in the Neo-Babylonian script (Fig. 2).39 The first text is situated on the western part of the rock, and the Neo-Babylonian text follows immediately after, to its right. No space appears to separate these two texts, so that the Neo-Babylonian inscription begins immediately after the last column of the Old-Babylonian inscription. Originally there may have been a carved relief (no longer visible now) depicting the figure of the king, perhaps with an allusion to his “Lebanon campaigns”. This should not be ruled out, given that all the other Nebuchadnezzar inscriptions in Lebanon (see below) are decorated with such reliefs. However, neither the end of the Old-Babylonian text nor the beginning of the Neo-Babylonian text has been preserved, and it is extremely difficult to obtain a complete picture of the inscriptions and of the whole monument. Both inscriptions probably recorded the same text, which, with some minor variants, is the same as the one written in Brisa (see below).

38 We will not speculate here on an interpretation of the role of Nahr el-Kalb as a place of social and collective memory, or as a “book” of Lebanese history, for at this stage (6th century BC), that memory was just beginning to be recorded. On the role of Nahr el-Kalb through history, see Volk 2008, 291ff. and Afeiche (in press). 39 For the inscription, see Weissbach 1906; and Unger / Weissbach 1914, and Scheil 1917 (Istanbul fragment).


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2. The Inscriptions of the North and of the Biqa‘ The area comprising North Lebanon and the North Biqa‘ was of the outmost strategical importance for the Babylonian king and it is no wonder that most of the evidence comes from this region. After defeating the Egyptians in the battle of Carchemish (605 BC), Nebuchadnezzar established his headquarters at Riblah, on the right bank of Nahr el-‘Asi, not far from the modern city of el-Qusayr and the border between Syria and Lebanon. Riblah was the site where the defeated Egyptians had positioned their garrison, and was of paramount strategical value, as it stood at the crossroads of routes between Mesopotamia, Syria and Anatolia, Lebanon, Palestine and Egypt. In Riblah, the armies secured the water supply from the tributary rivers of the Orontes, and had easy access to the cedar forests of the Lebanon mountain range through the valleys of Wadi es-Saba‘ and Wadi Wustan, Wadi Fissan, Wadi eshSharbin, etc. These ravines run between Jabal Akrum, Jabal Qamuha, Jabal elHusayn, Jabal Afar, etc., some of them cutting across the eastern slope of the Lebanon mountain range. In these valleys and mountain peaks, Nebuchadnezzar engraved reliefs and carved inscriptions on rock faces overlooking strategical passes. 2.1 The Twin Brisa Inscriptions The two Brisa inscriptions with their beautiful reliefs40 are carved on the slopes of Wadi esh-Sharbin, some 7 km from the village of Sharbin and only about 10 km from Riblah. One of the most important routes in North Lebanon runs along this ravine, connecting the Biqa‘ with the Lebanon Mountains and the Mediterranean. Through Wadi esh-Sharbin and when the roads are not cut off altogether due to snow, one can easily reach the area of Marjghayn and, from there to the north, the forest of the Jabal Qamuha. Another road runs southwards from Marjghayn along the eastern slope of Jbab el-Humr and Qurnet es-Sawda, connecting the Biqa‘ with the magnificent cedar forests of Ehden, Bsharri and Tannurin. A mountain road runs north from Jabal Qamuha, through el-Bustan, towards Wadi es-Saba‘, from which one can gain easy access to the Syrian plain via Homs. Either from Jabal Qamuha or from the cedar forests of Ehden and Bsharri, the Mediterranean is less than 50 km away. Thus, the importance of Wadi esh-Sharbin for Nebuchadnezzar is based on the possibility to reach a) the forests of cedars and other resistant timber necessary to carry out his building policies, b) the area of Syria through Wadi es-Saba‘ and Homs, and c) the Via Maris either by el-‘Abde or at Shekka. Situated at this privileged junction, the Brisa inscriptions are the best evidence for understanding Nebuchadnezzar’s practices in Lebanon. The inscription on the western slope (WBA)41 is written in Old Babylonian characters and contains a relief that shows a figure (a bearded male wearing a long robe) fighting a lion (Fig. 3).42 40

See Weissbach 1906, Figs I–VI (text); Börker-Klähn 1982, 228, Nr. 259–260 (reliefs). For the classification of the inscriptions, see Da Riva 2008, 41f. 41 The road following the ravine runs east-west, but it takes a south-north course, approximately, right after the village of Brisa, in the area where the inscriptions are. So, the orientation of these should be roughly east-west. 42 WBA has fourteen columns, not ten as reported by Weissbach in his publication, and it measures 3·60 m high and 5·50 m wide. The author has made several visits to the place between 2005 and 2008, and wishes to thank L. Salloum for her help in studying the monuments in situ.

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This figure is king Nebuchadnezzar, who is depicted here, as in Shir es-Sanam, wearing a crown, which is a conical cap with a pointed top and a long tassel hanging from the back. The inscription on the eastern slope (WBC) is written in Neo-Babylonian cuneiform and the heavily eroded relief depicts the monarch standing in front of a tree without leaves (Fig. 4).43 As the lower part of the relief has been partially destroyed, the general idea behind the representation is unclear.44 The overall condition of the inscriptions is good, aside from recent graffiti on both inscriptions, but the reliefs are not very well preserved.45 The Brisa texts are important, for they establish a link between the inscription and the natural setting in which it was produced. In the last section of the inscription, just before the inūmīšu-clause (WBC X), the king proceeds to express the real intentions of the conquest: the exploitation of the natural resources and the building of roads to gain ready access to them. Nebuchadnezzar mixes his political aims with a concern for the welfare of the Lebanese people, and in the following lines of the text, he also refers to the reliefs and inscriptions of Brisa: (I did) what no former king had done: I cut through the high mountains, I crushed the stones of the mountains, I opened up passes (into the mountains), I prepared a passage for (the transport of) the cedars for king Marduk. Strong cedars, thick and tall, of splendid beauty, supreme their fitting appearance, huge yield of the Lebanon, I bundled them like reeds and I perfumed the Arahtu (with them), and I put them in Babylon like Euphrates poplars. I let the people in the Lebanon lie in safe pastures; I did not allow an intimidator (against them). So that nobody will oppress them, I installed an eternal image of myself as king to protect (them), [...] I built [...] I [...] I put [...]. I reunited the widespread people in the totality of all lands, and I wrote an inscription in the mountain passes and established (it) with my royal image for ever after.46 The Brisa inscriptions contain the same text (with minor divergences) that is preserved in the fragmentary columns of the Nahr el-Kalb inscription. We do not know whether the complete Nahr el-Kalb text corresponds exactly to the Brisa inscriptions. Unfortunately, the other epigraphic evidence we possess is in a very bad state of preservation.47

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Dimensions of the monument: 2·80 m high and 5·30 m wide. In WBA, the king looks to the right, and in WBC to the left, that is, in both reliefs the king is looking eastwards, towards Syria! The same is true of the Shir es-Sanam relief. In the two reliefs in Wadi es-Saba‘, the king is facing north. 45 The Neo-Babylonian inscription has been damaged by a small flow of water down the rock, while the surface of the Old-Babylonian inscription shows a number of perforations that locals claim to be bullet holes. The lower central part of WBA has been removed, evidently in the search for treasure. Both WBA and WBC display hideous graffiti in blue paint with the word “AZAB”. 46 WBC IX 33–56, X 1–9. 47 The internal evidence from the Brisa (and Nahr el-Kalb) inscriptions suggests that it was composed and carved towards the end of Nebuchadnezzar’s reign, perhaps between 570 and 562 BC (see Da Riva, forthcoming). 44


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2.2 The “Cliff of the Idol” In 1968, M. Talon published the discovery of a relief and a number of lines of eroded cuneiform text in a place called Shir es-Sanam, in Jabal Qamuha, some 16 km from el-Qbayyat, on the road leading from Shambuq to Fnay-deq.48 The monument stands at 1,550 m above sea level at the junction of three ravines, one descending towards ‘Akkar, the second going down to Zabud and el-Qbayyat and the third leading to ‘Arqa through Qantara. The place could not have been better selected. From Shir es-Sanam, one can easily reach the area of Biqa‘ through Wadi esh-Sharbin, and the zone of Wadi es-Saba‘ and the Lake of Homs through elBustan. The Shir es-Sanam (“Cliff of the Idol”) is the local name of the cliff, for the relief represents a standing male figure remotely reminiscent of an idol. The relief and the inscription are some 10 metres from the ground on the north side of a cliff that is 20 metres high (Fig. 5).49 The whole monument measures 2·40 m at its highest point and 4·20 m at its widest.50 The relief depicts a standing male who seems to be either in the attitude of praying adopted in Mesopotamia (one hand raised in front of the mouth), or else holding some object in his right hand and pointing it at his face. The portion of the relief where the hand should be is not sufficiently preserved. The figure is undoubtedly king Nebuchadnezzar, for it is very similar to the reliefs of Brisa and because in the first line of the first column of the inscription we can read, albeit with some difficulty: “Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon”. The king is represented wearing a conical cap, a long robe and holding a long staff. Nebuchadnezzar appears to be looking to the right and there are three astral symbols (the sun, the moon and a star) in front of him.51 Also in front the king are the remains of six columns of a text in Neo-Babylonian cuneiform with some fifty lines per column. The cuneiform inscription is severely weathered and at the present time has almost dis48

The relief was not included by Börker-Klähn in her 1982 catalogue, so it remained virtually “unknown” to Assyriology until now. 49 This photograph shows the inscription and the relief of the king with J. Tabet (ALES) climbing next to them. 50 In June 2008, Mr F. Husseini, of the General Directorate of Antiquities, gave the author permission to undertake a study of the inscription. The work involved using scaffolding, mountaineering ropes and a great deal of patience and enthusiasm. The author wishes to acknowledge the assistance provided by Sara Tricoli (Richmond University of Rome), who took the trouble to copy the relief, standing on top of the scaffolding, and by the members of the Association Libanaise d’Etudes Spéléologiques (ALES) who took care of the logistics. A publication of the inscription for the periodical BAAL is currently under preparation by Da Riva and Tricoli, with an appendix on the condition of the rock by Badr Jabbour-Gedeon and Ghada Salem (Conservator sarl, Lebanon). 51 The three symbols are probably a simplification of the more numerous symbols appearing in Assyrian and Babylonian royal representations of the II millennium BC, normally ranging from five to eight, including, apart from the three mentioned, a horned-crown, lightning, a stylus, a spade and the Pleiades. On some Assyrian stelae, the sun is a winged sun disk. See Börker-Klähm 1982, Nr. 136, 137, 148, 164. This simplification appears already in the Assyrian stele Börker-Klähm 1982, Nr. 242 (8th–7th century BC) and in all Neo-Babylonian representations. The theological or stylistic reasons for the choice of these three symbols are uncertain, but the reduction of the number of symbols took place before the Neo-Babylonian period.

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appeared due to erosion. Apart from the name of the king at the beginning of the text, few lines can be read with certainty. 2.3 The Reliefs in the Valley of the Lion Wadi es-Saba‘ (“Valley of the Lion”) is a ravine, 12 km long, running from north to south, parallel to the eastern slope of the Jabal Akrum, south-west of Lake Homs. Through this narrow valley, one can easily go from Wadi Khaled and Lake Homs to the area of el-Bustan, and further on to Hermel and the North Biqa‘. 52 It is plausible to think that the Babylonians may have used Wadi es-Saba‘ to reach Brisa and Shir es-Sanam, for the narrowness of the valley assures better protection than the wide, open space of the Biqa‘. The first relief (Wadi es-Saba‘ 1 = WS1) is 1 km from the bridge over the ravine, on the road from Kfar Tun to Akrum (Fig. 6), while the second relief (Wadi es-Saba‘ 2 = WS2) is some 100 m to the south of the first one (Fig 7).53 Both monuments have been attributed to Nebuchadnezzar by several scholars, on the grounds that their style is Neo-Babylonian and that king Nebuchadnezzar is the only Neo-Babylonian whose presence in the area is recorded: at Brisa and Shir es-Sanam.54 For some scholars, there are also iconographic arguments pointing to Nebuchadnezzar: WS155 depicts a figure fighting a lion, which is reminiscent of one of the Brisa reliefs (but of much poorer quality). This relief has no traces of an inscription and looks as it was never inscribed.56 The second relief, WS 257 has been almost completely destroyed, but what remains looks strikingly similar to the Shir es-Sanam relief, showing a standing figure and the three astral symbols: the moon, the sun and a star.58 There are traces of signs on the surface of the rock, but the inscription is completely illegible.59 The reliefs at Wadi es-Saba‘ have deteriorated considerably: WS1 shows multiple perforations (purportedly bullet marks), and the rock in the lower part of the second relief seems to have been removed, evidently in the search for a

52 On the role of Akrum as a staging-post for crossing the Lebanon Range, see Talon 1968b, 61f. In fact, as Talon points out, from Akrum and the Wadi es-Saba‘ one can easily command the Biqa‘. 53 Dimensions: 2·39 m high and 2·93 m wide (WS1); 2·35 m high and 4 m wide (WS2). 54 See Talon 1968, 3–4. 55 Börker-Klähn 1982, Nr. 268. 56 The absence of an inscription is puzzling, since all Neo-Babylonian stelae and rock monuments are formed by a combination of image and writing, and the inscription is always very long. In my opinion, this fact and the poor quality of the relief raise serious doubts about the attribution of the monument to the otherwise fine artists active during the reign of Nebuchadnezzar. It may be that the relief was there when Nebuchadnezzar arrived and served as an inspiration for the Brisa relief, or else it was carved at a later date, imitating the monument of Brisa. 57 Börker-Klähn 1982, Nr. 269. 58 The “pose” adopted by Nebuchadnezzar in these two images is typical of the pose of Nabonidus on his stelae and on the Sela‘ relief. 59 Therefore, the monument is not unfinished (against Börker-Klähn 1982, 231), but its inscription is simply destroyed. WS2 is similar to Shir es-Sanam, which is undoubtedly a work of Nebuchadnezzar’s time. However the quality and workmanship of WS1 are so poor, that it is difficult to put it in the same group as the nicely made Brisa, WS2 or Shir es-Sanam reliefs.


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non-existent tunnel leading to treasure.60 IV. Nebuchadnezzar’s Monuments: An Attempt at an Interpretation Despite the paucity of archaeological and epigraphical evidence found in situ for Nebuchadnezzar’s presence in the West, contemporary and later documents point to a high degree of Neo-Babylonian military and political involvement in the area. And, until now, Lebanon is the only place that has provided us with important archaeological data for reconstructing Nebuchadnezzar’s activities in the West. The presence of the rock inscriptions and rock reliefs in strategically chosen locations could point to a function as boundary markers or elements to administer the territory, but we do not know the forms of organization used by the Babylonians in their conquered territories. Equally, we could compare them to the forest inscriptions of the Roman Emperor Hadrian (AD 117–138),61 aimed at securing and protecting the forests for the imperial use of the timber without any attempt to delimit or mark the territory.62 In a similar manner, perhaps, the Neo-Babylonian reliefs and inscriptions functioned as symbols for secured and controlled areas, but they did not mark the limits or frontiers of the areas. The only monument that is clearly situated in a point of passage between two zones of influence is the Nahr el-Kalb inscription.63 However, it has been demonstrated elsewhere64 that the monuments set up at Dog River by successive conquerors did not mark a boundary, but rather celebrated overcoming the challenging topography of a natural barrier (Ras el-Kalb), as a metaphor for conquering territories. It is clear that behind the images and the inscriptions there must have been political and religious motivations. Our current level of knowledge of Neo-Babylonian political ideology does not allow us to obtain a full picture of those motivations, but we can try to get close to them by analysing the functions fulfilled by the images. In order to do so, we have followed Bonatz65 in the use of Morgan’s inductive typology of the functions of images in religious practices.66 We have taken into account the similarities (already pointed out by Morgan) in the praxis of religious and secular images. Even if Nebuchadnezzar’s reliefs are not to be understood as fulfilling any religious aims, his images had the same functions as religious icons. Neo-Babylonian 60

Da Riva has visited Wadi es-Saba‘ on several occasions. During the last visit, in September 2008, in the company of Ch. Arkhass, P. Matta and S. Tricoli, it was possible to take measurements and pictures of the reliefs. 61 See Brown 1969, 152; Abdul-Nour 2001; Gèze / Abdul-Nour 2006; Chasseigne / Rodríguez 2008. 62 Hani Abdul-Nour (personal communication, September 2008). 63 Many scholars agree too hastily that Nahr el-Kalb marked a frontier between the Beirut and the Byblos zones (Börker-Klähn 1982, 211), but this was not always the case. The Dog River, for example, did not mark the boundary between the Assyrian and the Egyptian areas of influence (against Sader 2000, 72), for we know that the Egyptians crossed the river to the north and the Assyrians crossed it to the south, as argued by Salamé-Sarkis 2005, 17932. Rather than a boundary, Nahr el-Kalb was a transit zone. 64 Da Riva (in press). 65 Bonatz 2007. 66 Morgan 2005, 55.

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kingship was divinely sanctioned, but the king was never divine, either in this world or in the next, and his images did not have any special religious motivation or significance per se besides highlighting the monarch’s piety. The king’s political function was connected with religion, but the king never adopted divine symbols nor was he depicted with the characteristics of the gods. The Neo-Babylonian monarch presented himself as a humble servant of the gods and as the man chosen by the divinities to rule the country. The numerous epithets present in the royal inscriptions clearly demonstrate this submission to the divine world.67 This submission is also reflected in pictorial art, in the relief of Shir es-Sanam and in the southern relief of Wadi es-Saba‘, where Nebuchadnezzar appears worshipping the symbols of the gods Sîn, Ištar and Šamaš. But the images of Nebuchadnezzar depicted on the reliefs of Brisa, Wadi es-Saba‘ and Shir es-Sanam seem to be more politically motivated, as we will see below. In any case, in the Neo-Babylonian period politics and religion were not too far from each other in practice, and religious representations had a strong political significance. And as both religion and politics assisted each other in assuring social order, we can keep Morgan’s typology in mind when analysing the function of the Lebanese reliefs of king Nebuchadnezzar. Unlike royal images inside temples and palaces, such as stelae, reliefs were public monuments and visible to all. As they were set in precise and well-chosen spots, we should understand that their function was connected with their location. The reliefs organized the territory and the space in which they were produced. In this case, the organization concerned territorial control and the securing of areas and communication routes. The pictorial representations functioned as metaphors of military and political control: they were messages clearly aimed at the conquered populations of the mountains and at the Egyptian enemy.68 These messages were spread over the territory of visual influence of the reliefs and had to be clearly understandable by the intended public: we are dealing here with a very obvious form of pictorial propaganda. This message was conceptualized and transmitted through the imagery depicted in the reliefs: the pose that the king adopts and the garments and regalia he is wearing in the reliefs. The choice of motifs (costume and pose) and their assemblage is deliberate. We are dealing with the pictorial self-representation of king Nebuchadnezzar, with the way the king wished to appear to the public in those precise locations and at that precise moment. In the reliefs, Nebuchadnezzar appears in three different poses: a) Fighting a rampant lion (WBA and WS1); b) Worshipping the divine symbols (WS2 and Shir es-Sanam); and c) Standing in front of a tree (WBC). Let us proceed to examine these briefly. Vanquishing a lion is a recurrent motif in Mesopotamian iconography. However, scenes of royal lion-hunting are more Neo-Assyrian in character.69 Babylonian kings prefer to appear hunting other less dangerous and less aggressive animals, such as

67

Da Riva 2008, 99–107. See the similar situation of Neo-Assyrian monuments in Syria and Anatolia (Gerlach 2000), such as Esarhaddon’s stelae in Til Barsip and Sam’al (Nevling Porter 2000). 69 As already noticed by Braun-Holzinger / Frahm 1991, 141. 68


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the rampant wild goat that Šamaš-šum-ukīn is shown fighting on BM 77611.70 There is no reference to hunting lions (or any other animals for that matter) in any of the Neo-Babylonian royal inscriptions. It is possible that Nebuchadnezzar’s deliberate choice of the motif of the lion-hunt, which is Assyrian or Syrian in origin, is idiosyncratic to the Neo-Babylonian dynasty, or at least to Nebuchadnezzar’s political ideology. The destruction of Assyria by the Neo-Babylonian dynasty and the seizure of large parts of the Neo-Assyrian empire due to the territorial expansion resulting from the Western campaigns, would have prompted Nebuchadnezzar to use the lion motif to lay claim to his territorial dominance and to demonstrate that he belonged to the dynasty that defeated the Assyrian empire. The lion motif was popular in Assyrian reliefs and glyptic, and it was probably also known in Babylonia long before the fall of Nineveh, during the period of Assyrian domination. In fact, the motif represented on the WBA relief (and also on the relief at WS1) is identical to the motif of the Neo-Assyrian royal seal of the “first type”.71 On the other hand, the deliberate choice of the motif may also have been connected with the geographical location of the images: the situation of these reliefs in the Western territories made it necessary to use “Western” pictorial language and symbolism, since it is probable that a pure Babylonian motif such as a goat-hunt would perhaps not have been properly understood by the inhabitants in the distant mountains of Lebanon. The attitude of the king worshipping the divinity fits in more with the Babylonian self-representation of piety and religious concern, and finds a literary echo in the contents and epithets of many royal inscriptions. The worshipping pose was probably taken from the royal stelae produced for the temples, since all Nabonidus stelae represent the king in this way.72 In both Shir es-Sanam and the southern relief of Wadi es-Saba‘ we find two nearly identical representations of Nebuchadnezzar looking to the right, with the cuneiform inscription in front of him, and three symbols above his head: the moon, the sun and a star (i.e. Sîn, Šamaš and Ištar).73 In both reliefs, Nebuchadnezzar holds a long staff in his left hand and he lifts his right hand to his mouth, perhaps in an attitude of prayer or possibly holding an object, but the reliefs are not well enough preserved.74 70

Da Riva / Frahm 1999/2000, 169. See Watanabe 2002, 54–55; on lions in the Neo-Assyrian reliefs, see Watanabe 2002, 42ff., 107f. 72 Babylonian rock reliefs were probably influenced by stelae, or by rock reliefs produced in other regions, such as Assyria, Anatolia and Iran. An influence from Babylonian rock reliefs can be ruled out; the alluvial plain of central and south Mesopotamia does not form a rocky landscape where monarchs could place their reliefs. 73 The same motif is used by Nabonidus in his stelae (Börker-Klähn 1982, Nrs. 263–64, 266; see Schaudig 2005 and 2005b for the recently found Tayma-stele) and in his rock inscription at Sela‘ (Schaudig 2001, 544). It is very interesting to note that the symbols seem to follow a fixed order: the moon being the nearest to the king, the sun (disk) in the middle and the star on the other side. We find this order too in the stelae from Nabonidus and in the Sela‘ monument (see the copy in Dalley / Goguel 1997, 174 fig. 8). 74 Nabonidus adopts a similar attitude in his stelae, and he holds something like a small cone in his uplifted right hand directed towards his face. There is another representation of Nebuchadnezzar, where the king holds the staff in his left hand and a similar object in his right hand (Schøyen stele SC2063, see George 2005/2006). The identification of this object, present 71

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The function depicted on the monument on the eastern slope of Wadi esh-Sharbine (WBC) is more puzzling. Due to the bad state of preservation, most of the lower part of the relief has gone, so it is difficult to establish the relationship between the monarch and the tree standing in front of him. The attitude adopted by the king here is similar to the worshipping scene, but there are no images of a king worshipping a tree in Mesopotamian art!75 The species of tree is not defined, and since it only has branches but no leaves, it is very difficult to identify. But the branches are arranged horizontally, as is the case with the cedars. The tree of the image might represent a dead cedar tree.76 Cedars were cleared of roots and leaves before being sent downstream on the Euphrates to Babylon. In Babylon, they would be shown off as symbols of the conquered richness of distant lands, as described in the Brisa text WBC IX 39ff.: “Strong cedars, thick and tall, of splendid beauty, supreme their fitting appearance, I bundled them together like reeds and I perfumed the Arahtu (with them), and I put them in Babylon like Euphrates poplars.”77 Of course, we cannot rule out that this image is simply symbolical, and that it represents any tree, but the motif of the cedar was recurrent in Mesopotamian tradition: The cedar of Lebanon (Cedrus libani) was coveted by Mesopotamian cultures for the resistance of its timber and the perfume of its gum.78 The Brisa text alludes to the cedars for the construction of temples and palaces.79 Finally, one could also understand this image as an allusion to the exploitation of the cedar forests organized by Nebuchadnezzar in the mountains of Lebanon. Let us now turn to the elements depicted in the reliefs: the regalia of king Nebuchadnezzar. Here we will compare the images preserved in WS2, in Shir es-Sanam and in the two reliefs of Brisa.80 As none of the reliefs is completely preserved, we are in no situation to speculate about the particulars of his head, face, beard and robe, but the few traces remaining give an impression of a sumptuous and detailed decoration. Nebuchadnezzar is depicted in the reliefs as a bearded figure in profile, dressed in a long robe and wearing closed shoes made of what seems to be a soft material. The garment is reminiscent of the one worn by king Šamaš-šum-ukīn (7th century in many Babylonian and Assyrian royal representations on kudurrus and stelae, is highly uncertain (see Brinkman / Dalley 1988, 95–97). In the Esarhaddon Sam’al stele (Börker-Klähn 1982, Nr. 219), the cone looks more like a drinking-cup. 75 There are comparisons of kings with cedar trees as in the text Civil 1996, 163 ii 3’: lugal mes babbar / urki-ma / ki dùg-ge / mú-a “Oh King, white cedar growing in a pleasant spot in Ur” (M. Jursa kindly drew my atention to this text). 76 This suggestion was made to me by my colleague S. Riera (University of Barcelona), when I consulted him with reference to the species of tree in question. For the types of trees depicted in the Neo-Assyrian reliefs, see Bleibtreu 1980, esp. Nadelgehölze. 77 WBC IX 39–46: gišerenmeš dan-nu-ti ši-hu-ú-ti pa-ag-lu-tim / (40) ša du-mu-uq-šu-nu šu-qu-ru / šu-tu-ru bu-na-a-šu-nu as-mu / hi-si-ib kurla-ab-na-nu gap-ša-tim / ki-ma qa-né-e íd uš-te-kip / ída-ra-ah-tim ú-ša-az-’-[e] / (45) i-na qé-re-eb ká.dingir.dingir[ki] / gišsa-ar-ba-ti-iš ú-kin-ma 78 See Weippert 1980–1983, 642f., 644f.; Jursa 2007, 225ff. See also George 2003, 20, 93f. for the references in the Gilgameš-Epic. 79 The strong timber of cedars was specially apt for roofings and doors, for which references can be found in all the Neo-Babylonian royal inscriptions. 80 The elements described here can also be seen in the image preserved on the Schøyen Nebuchadnezzar stele SC2063, see also George 2005–2006.


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BC) in the “modelled pseudo-seal”81 and by king Nabonidus (6th century BC) in the stelae mentioned above;82 one could conclude that this was the royal garment which, with minor variants, was worn by the Babylonian monarchs in the middle of the I millennium BC. When referring to the garment Nabonidus wears in stele BörkerKlähn 1982, Nr. 266, speaks of an “assyrisches Gewand”.83 Braun-Holzinger and Frahm also point out the fact that Nabonidus appears in his pictorial representations with the “assyrischen Herrschengewand”. According to them, “Das babylonische Herrschergewand war bis dahin stets das Hemd, ohne Übergewand. Nabonid verlässt hier also bewusst die babylonische Tradition”.84 But note that all Babylonian kings of the I millennium (at least all the “Chaldean” monarchs of whom reliefs are preserved) after Šamaš-šum-ukīn (in the “pseudo-seal” mentioned above) are represented with these “Assyrian” garments: a shirt and an overcoat.85 The garment looks like an ankle-length tunic leaving the feet free, with a fringe in the lower part. The tunic has short sleeves and is elaborately fringed and pleated, with overlapping front panels of some kind and a belt. In all cases, a kind of open sleeveless coat with a fringe covers the figure. In WS1 and in Shir es-Sanam the lower front part of the tunic is shorter, leaving one of the king’s legs bare from the knee down. In representations of Nabonidus, a bracelet of some sort can be seen on his wrist, but our reliefs are not well enough preserved for such details to be identified. The king also wears the typical I millennium BC Babylonian crown, a high conical pointed cap with a long tassel hanging down the back, as did Šamaš-šum-ukīn before him and Nabonidus was to do after him.86 In the reliefs in which he appears worshipping the divine symbols, the king holds a long staff matching him in height.87 The figure depicted and its regalia resemble the representations not only of Šamaš-šum-ukīn and Nabonidus already mentioned, but also of other Babylonian monarchs of the I millennium BC depicted on kudurrus and other kinds of stone and clay monuments.88 Of course, these images should not be regarded as real portraits of Nebuchadnezzar, but rather as stereotyped renderings of the monarch. And while in some reliefs the king’s pose might be inspired by Assyrian or Syrian traditions, the attire is purely Babylonian. Let us conclude this study by turning to the Brisa inscription quoted above. In the last lines we can read the following words: “So that nobody will oppress them, I 81

Da Riva / Frahm 1999/2000, 159. Börker-Klähn 1982, Nrs. 263–264, 266. 83 Börker-Klähn 1982, 231. 84 Braun-Holzinger / Frahm 1999, 141. 85 But note that in the Sam’al stele of Esarhaddon, Šamaš-šum-ukīn wears the “Babylonian” royal robe as king of Babylon (Nevling Porter 2000, 169, fig. 16). This robe is back-pleated and is the same as worn by Marduk-zakir-šumi on the Louvre kudurru-stele and Marduk-aplaiddina II on the Berlin kudurru, see photos in Matthiae 1999, 143 and 163; for the kudurrus, see Seidl 1989, Nr. 99 (MZŠ) and Nr. 107 (MAI II). 86 See Brinkman and Dalley 1988, 93–94. One of the earliest scenes with this pose is the Marduk-apla-iddina II stele of Baghdad (Börker-Klähn 1982, Nr. 258), which may have functioned as a model for the Neo-Babylonian reliefs. 87 Probably in the other hand he is holding the mysterious small conical object discussed above (n. 59), but the hands of the king are not preserved in the reliefs. 88 Brinkman / Dalley 1988, 93–97. 82

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installed an eternal image of my royal person to protect (them)”.89 These phrases demonstrate that, apart from being a form of pictorial and written propaganda, the images and the inscriptions had an “apotropaic” and protective function90 within their area of influence: they are a message to intruders not to trespass on the territories under the jurisdiction of the Babylonian king. And just as in some Hittite reliefs the representation of the divine warrior protects the image and the inscription,91 in our case it is the inscription (and the image associated with it) which has the function of protecting the territory where it was produced and the people who lived within the boundaries of that area. V. Concluding Remarks According to the Babylonian chronicles, the military campaigns in the West were one of the pressing issues of Nebuchadnezzar’s external politics. Yet, despite the paucity of archaeological and epigraphic data regarding the king’s activities in Syria, Lebanon and Palestine, the monuments analysed here confirm the high level of NeoBabylonian political and military interest in the area of Lebanon. The inscriptions and reliefs produced by Nebuchadnezzar were set up in selected strategical places more or less accessible to anyone travelling through those points. The iconographical motifs carved on the reliefs were carefully chosen to convey an understandable message to the passer-by; also the written messages were deliberately selected, even if they had a much more reduced potential audience. The monuments were an expression of Babylonian political power and territorial control in the West and also a form of political propaganda inasmuch as they formed the pictorial self-representation of the monarch. They also show that the ideas of imitating, emulating and superseding the acts of previous rulers were also considered in the choice of the place where the monuments were carved, and in the selection of the motifs and of the attire of the ruler in the iconographic representations. Finally, one should also consider the protective role played by the monuments in the areas in which they were located, symbolising the might of the king who ordered them to be erected Bibliography Abdul-Nour, H., 2001: Les inscriptions forestières d’Hadrien: mise au point et nouvelles découvertes. Archaeology and History in Lebanon 14, 64–95. Afeiche, A. M. (ed.) (in press): Le site de Nahr el-Kalb. Beirut. Akkermans, P. M. M. G. / Schwartz, G. M., 2003: The Archaeology of Syria. From Complex Hunter-Gatherers to Early Urban Societies (ca. 16,000–300 BC). Cambridge. Arnaud, D., 2004: Nabuchodonosor II, roi de Babylone. Paris. Bae, C.-H., 2001: Comparative Studies of King Darius’ Bisitun Inscription. Dissertation, Harvard University. 89

WBC IX 50–51. The statues and reliefs of bulls and lions placed on the doorways of Assyrian and Babylonian cities also had these functions, see Watanabe 2002, 121–125. 91 See Bonatz 2007, 123 (citing Dinçol). 90


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Fig. 1.


Fig. 2. Nahr el-Kalb

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Fig. 3. Brisa (WBA)

Fig. 4. Brisa (WBC)


Fig. 5. Shir es-Sanam

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Fig. 6. Wadi es-Saba‘ (WS1)


Fig. 7. Wadi es-Saba‘ (WS2)

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Indices People, Places, Rivers, Temples ‘Ajjul 45, 49–51, 60–61 ‘Akkar 175 Abusir 20, Abydos 6–8, 14–15, 18, 31, 34 Aegean 67, 73 Agade 154–155 Akkad 154, 161 Aleppo 45, 69–70, 78 Amarna 90–92, 95–98, 100, 102 Ālu-ša-Sîn-rabi 105, 113 Amurru 78, 87 Anatolia 67–71, 75, 77, 81–82 Arabs 127, 131–132, 134, 136 Aramu 123 Armant 7, 9, 25, 30, 33 Arpad 154 Arrapha 154–155 Arraphaeans 114 Arsaškun 123 Arwad 155, 167–168 Arzawa 71 Ashdod 155, 167–168 Ashkelon 44–47, 50–54, 57, 59–60 Assur 105–106, 115, 154, 161 Assyria/Assyrian 117–136, 168, 179 Aštamaku 123–124 Aswan 9, 17, 19 Avaris 45, 48–51 Ayn Sukhna 12, 20 Babylon 68, 70, 80, 154–156, 161, 163, 165, 167, 174–175, 180–181 Babylonia 128, 153–155, 157–161, 166, 168, 179 Bakuššu 155 Balat 9–10 Balawat 119, 121–122, 124, 134– 135, 141–142 Beni Hasan 22

Besor 51, 60 Beth Shan 100 Beth-Shemesh 51–52, 59 Beth-Zur 55 Biqa‘ 167–168, 172–173, 175–176 Biqa‘ Valley 167–168, 172 Birātu 154 Birūqāya 157 Biryawaza Bisotun 169 Bīt-Amukāni 154 Bīt-Dakkūri 154 Borsippa 155, 158, 160, 163 Brisa 165, 168–169, 171–176, 178, 180–181, 188 Bsharri 173 Buhen 10 Bultāya 157 Büyukkale 69 Byblos 10, 32, 99–102 Canaan 43–45, 47–49, 53–54, 58, 60–61 Carchemish 69, 73, 80, 82, 101 Coptos 17, 19, 23–25, 33 Dahshur 5, 26 Dakhla 7–10, 19 Dakhleh 11 Dakkuru 155 Damascus 67, 78, 87, 90, 98, 120, 127 Deir el-Gebrawi 17 Dendera 24–25, 27 Dēr 154–155 Deshasha 13, 31 Dothan 55–56, 59 Eanna 157, 161 Ebabbara 154–155, 157–158 Eber-Nāri 154, 168 Ebla 5, 10, 32

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Edfu 23–24, 34 Egypt 43–45, 47–51, 55–61, 68, 71, 77–80 Elamite 118, 129, 131, 135 el-Bustan 173, 175, 176 Elephantine 9, 11, 14, 17–18, 20, 23, 26, 30, 32, 34 El-Hawawish 17 Elkab 11, 17 el-Qbayyat 169, 175 Eltekeh 130 Etemenanki 167 Euphrates 69–70, 79–80, 82 Eurmeiminanki 167 Gala el-Sheikh 8 Galilee 54, 56, 60 Gassiya 69 Gaza 51–52, 59, 100, 155, 167–168 Gebel Sheikh Suleiman 5, 7 Gebel Tjauti 7 Gebel Uweinat 8, 10 Gerar 51 Gezer 51–52 Gibeon 55 Gilf (el-)Kebir 8, 20 Giza 12, 13, 17, 21 Hagarsa 24 Hahha 82 Halule 118, 128–129 Halys 67 Hamath 166 Hanigalbat 105, 112 Harhar 128 Haror 50–51, 60–61 Hatnub 17, 22 Hatti 67–74, 78–80, 83, 154–155 Hattu 167 Hattuša 47, 68–69, 75, 82 Hazor 44–45, 56–57, 59–60 Hāzutu 127–128 Hierakonpolis 6–8, 12, 27, Hittite 32, 47, 61, 67–84 Homs 166, 173, 175–176 Hubuškia 121 Hurrian 48, 70, 77 Hyksos 5, 32, 48, 50 Ida 20 Imarāiu 107 Jabal Qamuha 168, 173, 175

Indices

Jaffa 51, 54, 58, 59, 60 Jbab el-Humr 173 Jemmeh 50, 51 Jericho 56 Jerusalem 44, 55, 61–62, 120, 130 Jezreel Valley 58–59, 100 Jordan Valley 53–56, 59 Kaau 18, 26 Kalhu 106 Kanesh 67 Karduniaš 107, 112–114 Karnak 56, 58 Kār-Tukultī-Ninurta (KTN) 105– 108, 110–113, 115 Kaska 70, 72, 76, 95 Kassites 129 Khor el-Aqiba 5 Khorsabad 127, 145–146 Kissik 155 Kızıl Irmak 67 Kizzuwadna 69 Kullabu 155 Kumidi 100 Kurbānu 106–107, 112–115 Kusippu 107–108 Kussara 67–68 Khabaubat 22 Kharga Oasis 7 Lachish 45, 51–52, 167 Lagūda 155 Lahīru 154, 155 Laqû 126 Larsa 154–155 Lebanon 165–167, 169–183 Libbi-āli 108, 110 Libūr-zānin-Aššur 107 Marassantiya 67–69 Marjghayn 173 Masit 26 Medes 153, 156, 166 Medja 18, 26, 30 Megiddo 48–49, 54–55, 58–59, 98 Memphis 5, 7, 9, 16 Mesopotamia 67, 70, 79–80 Meterti 26 Milawata 73 Millawanda 73–74 Mitanni 68, 70, 77, 79–80 Mo‛alla 6, 24–25, 28–29, 33

Indices

Mut el-Kharab 11 Nagada 6, 7 Nahal Shiqma 52 Nahr el-‘Asi 173 Nahr el-Kalb 168–174, 177, 182 187 Nēberti-Purattu 168 Nedia 31 Nekhen 33 Neo-Babylonian 153–154, 156, 158–163 Nephthys Hill 20 Nesa 67–68 Nihriya 80 Nimrud 119, 126, 130, 143–144 Nineveh 129, 131, 134–135, 147– 152 Nippur 87, 89, 158 Nubia 5–14, 19–20, 22, 27, 29, 32, 60 Orontes 173 Palestine 53, 166–167, 172–173, 182 Paphlagonia 67 Pella 56, Per-Ikhekh 18, 26 Persian Gulf 156 Piramesse 11 Pithana 67–68 Punt 10, 19, 33 Puqūdu 154–155 Qadesh 73, 76–80, 88, 92 Qarqar 121 Qurnet es-Sawda 173 Qustul 8–9 Rapihu 127–128 Ras el-Kalb 171, 177 Riblah 166–167, 173 Rudjet 19 Sekhemsen 25, 33 Sela‘ 169, 176, 179 Šelenāiū 114 Sera‘ 45, 50 Serer 20 Sharuhen 49–51, 53 Shashotep 34 Shechem 44, 47, 55, 59, 61, 98 Shiloh 55

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Shir es-Sanam 165, 168–169, 171, 174–176, 178–181, 189 Sidon 92, 155, 167–168 Sippar 153–155, 157–159, 161 Siut 6, 24, 28, 34–35 Suhu 108, 110–115, 126 Sumur 100 Sutean 95–102 Syria 96, 100, 102 Taanach 55 Tanis 11 Tannurin 173 Tegarama 69 Tekhebet 20, 27 Tel Dan 56 Tel Kitan 56 Tel Mevorakh 55 Tell Abu Kharaz 56, 60 Tell Deir ‘Allā 56 Tell el-Dab‛a 9, 11 Tell Far‘ah South 51 Tepa 20 Thebes 23–25, 28, 33 Thinis 27, 31, 34 Tigris 154–156 Tille 105 Til-Tuba 131 Timnah 45, 51–52, 60–61 Tjemi 33 Tuwanuwa 69 Tyre 92, 154–155, 167–168 Udannu 155 Ugarit 80, 87, 92, 101 Uhwi 34 Ullaza 60, 100 Ur 154–155, 158 Urartu/Urartian 121–123, 126–127 Urshu 82 Uruk 154–155, 157, 158 Via Maris 171, 173 Wadi el-Howar 8 Wadi esh-Sharbin 168, 173, 175 Wadi es-Saba‘ 165, 168–171, 173– 179, 190, 191 Wadi Hammamat 19, 22–23, 25 Wadi Hariq 27 Wadi Howar 8, 27 Wadi Maghara 21 Wadi Mineh 7

196

Wadi Qash 7 Wadi Tumilat 12 Wadi Um Balad 7 Wawat 18, 22, 26–27, 30, 32 Wenet 20

Indices

Yam 10, 18, 20, 26–27 Yamhad 70 Yasubigallai 129 Zabud 175

Zauib

22

Gods Sîn 178–179 Horus 11, 15, 18, 31 Ištar 105, 110, 178–179

Marduk 154, 166, 174 Šamaš 154, 178–179

Persons Abī-ilī 105, 112, 114 Adad-nirari I 80 Ahmose 48–52, 56, 60 Amenemhet 22 Amenhotep I 49, 52 Amenophis IV 100 Ammištamru II 101 Anitta 68 Ankhtifi 24–25, 29, 33–34 Arnuwanda 72–73 Assurbanipal 117, 127, 131, 133– 136, 151–152 Aššur-bēl-ilāni 114 Aššur-iddin 108, 110–111, 114 Aššur-mušabši 114 Assurnasirpal II 119, 122, 126–128, 132, 134 Aššur-zēra-iddina 107, 114 Bēl-rēmanni 159 Biridiya 98 Biryawaza 98 Cambyses 158 Croesus 131–132 Djoser 14 Esarhaddon 130 Etel-pî-Aššur 106–108, 112–115 Hammurabi 166 Hantili I 69–70 Hānunu 127–128 Hatshepsut 49, 52 Hattusili I 68, 70, 82 Hattusili III 72–73, 76–78, 81

Herkhuf 17, 20 Herkhuf 17 Herodotus 131–132 Hezekiah 130 Ibi 17 Ina-Aššur-šumī-asbat 106, 114 Ini of Gebelein 29 Ini-Tešub 101 Inti 13, 31 Irtjet 18, 26, 28, 32 Isi 16 Iti-ibi 28 Kaaper 20–21, 33 Kaemhezet 31 Kāki 121 Kassu 74 Kaštiliaš IV 114 Katiri 105 Khafra 12, 20 Khasekhemuy 7, 12 Khety 18, 26, 33–34 Khnumhotep 5 Kidin-Enlil 106 Kussara 67 Laba’aya 98 Labarna 68 Lullāiu 108 Manapa-Tarhunda 82 Mentuhotep 27 Metjen 15–16, 23 Murašû 158 Mursili I 70

Indices

Mursili II 71–74, 82–83 Mušallim-Aššur 107 Mušallim-Marduk 108, 110–111 Muwattalli 73, 76, 78, 80 Nabonidus 157–159, 161, 169, 171, 176, 179, 181 Nabû-balassu-iqbi 157 Nabû-bēla-usur 106 Narmer 12 Nebuchadnezzar 154–155, 158, 160, 165–169, 171–182 Necho 166 Neferkare 32 Nesutnefer 12–13, 16 Netjeraperef 16 Ninuāiu 105, 114 Niqmepa 87, 92 Nusku-rēmanni 108, 110–111 Nyuserra 20 Pahura 100–102 Pehernefer 16 Pepi II 7, 17 Pepy I 26 Pithana 67 Qarrād-Aššur 114 Ramesses 76–79 Rames(s)es II 22, 76, 78 Rensi 19 Rib-Adda 99–101 Sabni 19 Sahure 11, 13 Salmānu-šuma-usur 112, 114 Šamaš-aḫa-iddina 108 Šamaš-bēl-kēnāte 107–108, 110– 112

197

Šamaš-kasir 157 Šamaš-šum-ukīn 179–181 Sargon II 117, 119, 127, 133–136, 145–146 Sennacherib 118–120, 128–129, 131, 133–135, 147–150 Senusret I 22–23, 25 Shalmaneser III 118–121, 125, 127–128, 132, 134–135, 141–142 Sharri-Kushuh 73 Silli-Salmānu 107 Sîn-ašarēd 108 Sîn-gimlanni 108 Sîn-rabi 106–108, 110–113, 115 Sneferu 10–11, 16, 18, 22, 31 Suppiluliuma 72–73, 77, 82 Tāb-milki-abi 107 Tarhundaradu 71 Teumman 131, 135 Thutmose I 49, 52 Thutmose II 49, 52, 54 Thutmose III 48–49, 51–60 Tiglath-Pileser III 120, 126–127, 133–135, 143–144 Tjemerery 27 Tudhaliya III 69–71, 74, 84 Tudhaliya IV 72, 80 Tukultī-Ninurta I 105–106, 113, 115 Urad-ilāni 108, 110–111 Urhi-Teshub 70, 79 Userkaf 13 Usur-namkūr-šarri 108, 114 Weni 9, 14, 18–19, 22, 26, 31–32

Subjects archers/archery 28, 31–32, 84, 98, 119, 125, 135, 157–158 arrows 77, 84, 99, 122–125, 128, 131, 133, 135, 157 axes 9, 28–29, 31–32, 77, 96 bows 28, 77, 97, 99, 122, 133, 157 cavalry 118–119, 121–133, 135 158–159, 161

chariots/chariotry 3, 72, 74–78, 87– 92, 97–100, 118–119, 121–132, 134–137, 158 conscription 3 daggers 157 deployment 160 deportees 159 fiefs 156, 158–159, 161 fleet 33–34

198

fortifications / fortified settlements 3, 9, 11–13, 21, 25, 31, 33 garrisons 19, 23 helmets 123, 134 horses 84, 87–88, 119, 121, 123, 125–127, 129, 132–134, 136–137, 158–159 horsemen 75, 123, 126–129, 131– 133, 158 infantry 31–32, 72, 75–77, 83, 98– 99, 102, 118–119, 122–125, 128– 132, 135–137 javelins 96, 99 lances 96 lion 173, 176, 178–179 maces 12, 96 mercenary 6, 9, 24, 26, 28–29, 76, 98, 153, 157, 160–161 militia 24–25, 75, 157, 159 mobilisation 153, 160 navy 18, 32

Indices

open field battles 117, 121 pax amoritica 44, 47 quivers 133 ramps 118, 120 recruitment 19, 21–22, 73, 153, 157 rock reliefs 169, 177, 179 sappers 119, 136 shields 28, 77, 97, 123, 128, 134– 135 siege 47–48, 50, 54, 56–58, 61, 82, 117–120, 122–124, 128, 130–131, 135–136 skirmishers 99 slingers 135 spears 77, 99, 123, 128, 133 spearmen 28, 32, 119 strongholds 13, 32, 81–82 swords 77, 96, 122–123, 125–126 temple contributions 157 tribal contributions 160

Texts BE 17 33a 87, 89–92 BM 63570+ 155 Brisa inscriptions 174 BRM 1 101 157 CT 56 481+ 158 EA 122 95, 99–102 EA 123 95, 100 EA 195 95, 98–99 EA 197 87, 90–92 EA 246 95, 98–99 Etemenanki inscription 154, 155

Etemenanki inscription 160 Istanbul fragment 154–155, 160 Kings II 23:31–35 166 MARV 1, 1 105–108, 111–115 MARV 4, 27 108, 110–115 MARV 4, 30 108, 110–113, 115 MARV 8, 4 108, 111–112, 115 MARV 8, 51 106–108, 112–113, 115 RS 8.333 101 RS 20.33 87–88, 90–91

Words ‘apîru 91 ešertu 160 eširtu 161 habiru 97, 98 ikkaru 157 magdalūma 45

mār banê 159 rab eširti 158, 160 rikis qabli 160 šarru 168 šerdanu 100–101 širāku 157

Studies on war in the ancient Near East: Collected essays on military history

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