Oil, Wine, and the Cultural Economy of Ancient Greece: From the Bronze Age to the Archaic Era 9781108835640, 9781108891165, 2020047376, 2020047377, 9781108812986, 1108835643

Table of contents :
Cover
Half-title page
Title page
Copyright page
Dedication
Contents
List of Figures
List of Maps
List of Tables
Acknowledgments
One Introduction
Oil, Wine, and Cultural History in Pre-Classical Greece
Oil–Wine, Olives–Vines
Cultural Commodities: Dependency, Value, and the Longue Durée
Considering Climate Change: Vulnerability, Resilience, and Adaptation
The Structure of the Book
Two Developing a Relationship of Dependency: Oil and Wine in the Minoan Palatial Era
Production of Oil and Wine
Modes of Exchange: Commensal, Gift, and Commercial
Commensal Exchange: Increasing Scale and Formalization of Feasts
Gift Exchange: Ritual and Funerary Gifts
Commercial Exchange: Regional and Long Distance
Chapter Conclusions
Three Controlling the Relationship: Oil and Wine in the Mycenaean Palatial Era
Production of Oil and Wine
Commensal Exchange: State-Sponsored Feasting
Oil and Wine in Gift Exchange
Oil and Wine in Commercial Exchange
Chapter Conclusions
Four Maintaining the Relationship: Oil and Wine in Postpalatial Greece
Production of Oil and Wine
Modes of Exchange: Commensal, Gift, and Commercial
Commensal Exchange: From Regional to Local
Gift Exchange: Funerary and Ritual Offerings
Commercial Exchange: Simplification and Local Resourcefulness
Chapter Conclusions
Five Rebuilding the Relationship: Oil and Wine in Early Iron Age Greece
Production of Oil and Wine
Modes of Exchange in the Early Iron Age
Commensal Exchange: Local, Regional, and Ritual
Gift Exchange: Funerary Offerings
Commercial Exchange: Specialized Amphoras and Interregional Networks
Chapter Conclusions
Six Expanding the Relationship: Oil and Wine in the Early Archaic Period
Production of Oil and Wine
Exchanging Oil and Wine in the Archaic Period
Commensal Exchange: Communal, Private, AND Ritual
Gift Exchange: Deities, Deceased, and the Living
Commercial Exchange: Regional Amphoras and Mediterranean Networks
Chapter Conclusions
Seven Conclusion: Cultural Commodities and the Future of Oil and Wine
Dynamic Stability: Shared Values and the Construction of Eliteness
Olive Oil and Wine as Cultural Commodities
Learning from the Past: Climate Change and the Future of Greek Oil and Wine
Notes
Bibliography
Index

Citation preview

OIL, WINE, AND THE CULTURAL ECONOMY OF ANCIENT GREECE

In this book, Catherine E. Pratt explores how oil and wine became increasingly entangled in Greek culture, from the Late Bronze Age to the Archaic period. Using ceramic, architectural, and archaeobotanical data, she argues that Bronze Age exchange practices initiated a strong network of dependency between oil and wine production, and the people who produced, exchanged, and used them. After the palatial collapse, these prehistoric connections intensified during the Iron Age and evolved into the large-scale industries of the Classical period. Pratt argues that oil and wine in pre-Classical Greece should be considered “cultural commodities,” products that become indispensable for proper social and economic exchanges well beyond economic advantage. Offering a detailed diachronic account of the changing roles of surplus oil and wine in the economies of pre-Classical Greek societies, her book contributes to a broader understanding of the complex interconnections between agriculture, commerce, and culture in the ancient Mediterranean. Catherine E. Pratt is Assistant Professor in the Department of Classical Studies at the University of Western Ontario. Her fieldwork has included Palaikastro on Crete, the Palace of Nestor at Pylos, Mycenae, and the Athenian Agora. She is currently codirector of the Bays of East Attica Regional Survey in Porto Raphti, Greece. Her work has been published in American Journal of Archaeology and Annual of the British School at Athens.

OIL, WINE, AND THE CULTURAL ECONOMY OF ANCIENT GREECE FROM THE BRONZE AGE TO THE ARCHAIC ERA CATHERINE E. PRATT University of Western Ontario

University Printing House, Cambridge cb2 8bs, United Kingdom One Liberty Plaza, 20th Floor, New York, ny 10006, USA 477 Williamstown Road, Port Melbourne, vic 3207, Australia 314–321, 3rd Floor, Plot 3, Splendor Forum, Jasola District Centre, New Delhi – 110025, India 79 Anson Road, #06–04/06, Singapore 079906 Cambridge University Press is part of the University of Cambridge. It furthers the University’s mission by disseminating knowledge in the pursuit of education, learning, and research at the highest international levels of excellence. www.cambridge.org Information on this title: www.cambridge.org/9781108835640 doi: 10.1017/9781108891165 © Cambridge University Press 2021 This publication is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception and to the provisions of relevant collective licensing agreements, no reproduction of any part may take place without the written permission of Cambridge University Press. First published 2021 A catalogue record for this publication is available from the British Library. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data names: Pratt, Catherine E., author. title: Oil, wine, and the cultural economy of ancient Greece : from the Bronze age to the Archaic era / Catherine E. Pratt, University of Western Ontario. description: New York : Cambridge University Press, 2021. | Includes bibliographical references and index. identifiers: lccn 2020047376 (print) | lccn 2020047377 (ebook) | isbn 9781108835640 (hardback) | isbn 9781108812986 (paperback) | isbn 9781108891165 (ebook) subjects: lcsh: Agriculture, Ancient – Greece. | Olive oil – Greece – History – To 1500. | Wine and wine making – Greece – History – To 1500. | Greece – Civilization – To 146 B.C. | Greece – Economic conditions – To 146 B.C. classification: lcc s429 .p73 2021 (print) | lcc s429 (ebook) | ddc 634/.6309495–dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020047376 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020047377 isbn 978-1-108-83564-0 Hardback Cambridge University Press has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party internet websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

To my mother

CONTENTS

List of Figures

page ix

List of Maps

xi

List of Tables

xii

Acknowledgments

xiii

1 INTRODUCTION

Oil, Wine, and Cultural History in Pre-Classical Greece Oil–Wine, Olives–Vines Cultural Commodities: Dependency, Value, and the Longue Durée Considering Climate Change: Vulnerability, Resilience, and Adaptation The Structure of the Book 2 DEVELOPING A RELATIONSHIP OF DEPENDENCY: OIL AND WINE IN THE MINOAN PALATIAL ERA

Production of Oil and Wine Modes of Exchange: Commensal, Gift, and Commercial Commensal Exchange: Increasing Scale and Formalization of Feasts Gift Exchange: Ritual and Funerary Gifts Commercial Exchange: Regional and Long Distance Chapter Conclusions 3 CONTROLLING THE RELATIONSHIP: OIL AND WINE IN THE MYCENAEAN PALATIAL ERA

Production of Oil and Wine Commensal Exchange: State-Sponsored Feasting Oil and Wine in Gift Exchange Oil and Wine in Commercial Exchange Chapter Conclusion

1

1 4 9 21 38

46

47 64 64 74 77 88

96

97 116 124 132 147

vii

viii

C O NT E NT S

4 MAINTAINING THE RELATIONSHIP: OIL AND WINE IN POSTPALATIAL GREECE

Production of Oil and Wine Modes of Exchange: Commensal, Gift, and Commercial Commensal Exchange: From Regional to Local Gift Exchange: Funerary and Ritual Offerings Commercial Exchange: Simplification and Local Resourcefulness Chapter Conclusions 5 REBUILDING THE RELATIONSHIP: OIL AND WINE IN EARLY IRON AGE GREECE

Production of Oil and Wine Modes of Exchange in the Early Iron Age Commensal Exchange: Local, Regional, and Ritual Gift Exchange: Funerary Offerings Commercial Exchange: Specialized Amphoras and Interregional Networks Chapter Conclusions 6 EXPANDING THE RELATIONSHIP: OIL AND WINE IN THE EARLY ARCHAIC PERIOD

Production of Oil and Wine Exchanging Oil and Wine in the Archaic Period Commensal Exchange: Communal, Private, and Ritual Gift Exchange: Deities, Deceased, and the Living Commercial Exchange: Regional Amphoras and Mediterranean Networks Chapter Conclusions 7 CONCLUSION: CULTURAL COMMODITIES AND THE FUTURE OF OIL AND WINE

Dynamic Stability: Shared Values and the Construction of Eliteness Olive Oil and Wine as Cultural Commodities Learning from the Past: Climate Change and the Future of Greek Oil and Wine

Online Appendix A:Oil and Wine in the Homeric Epics. See www.cambridge.org/pratt-a Online Appendix B:Oil and Wine in Hesiod’s Works and Days. See www.cambridge.org/pratt-b Notes Bibliography Index

155

158 164 164 173 178 193

197

200 206 206 219 224 238

245

248 254 255 270 275 290

298

299 304 308

315 332 396

FIGURES

1.1 Grid for visualizing variations in entanglements over time through changes to scale and centralization page 13 1.2 Grid for visualizing changes to entanglements with the time periods discussed in the book plotted for reference 14 2.1 Wine-making installation from Vathypetro 48 2.2 Stone-pressing bed from Kommos 49 2.3 Bronze Age rock-cut basins at Agarak 52 2.4 Estimated storeroom size (in m2) in Neopalatial palaces, houses, and villas mentioned in the text 55 2.5 Estimated storage potential (in liters) of Neopalatial houses and villas mentioned in the text 55 2.6 Linear A ideograms for wine (AB 131a–c), olive oil (A 302), and olives (AB 122) 57 2.7 The number of pithoi that palatial stores were designed to house 59 2.8 Type 2 oval-mouthed amphora from MM II levels at Quartier Mu, Malia 77 2.9 Early transport stirrup jars 78 3.1 Clay sealings from the Wine Magazine with variations of the wine ideogram 109 3.2 The Wine Magazine (Rooms 104 and 105) at Pylos 112 3.3 Pylos Rooms 23 and 24 from northeast 113 3.4 Cretan transport stirrup jar from Mycenae’s House of the Oil Merchant (no. 9099) with multiple seal impressions on clay spout cap 114 3.5 Pylos feasting equipment, including kylix cups and kraters for mixing wine 118 3.6 Drinking scene on a pictorial krater found at Tiryns 120 3.7 Gold signet ring from the Tiryns hoard 122 3.8 West Cretan transport stirrup jar from the Kadmeion at Thebes marked with Linear B 133 3.9 Central Cretan transport stirrup jar 134 3.10 Transport stirrup jar cargo of the Point Iria shipwreck 143 3.11 Mainland Greek transport stirrup jar from Zygouries 144 3.12 Trojan Gray Ware transport stirrup jar 145 3.13 Rhodian transport stirrup jar 146 4.1 Model of Tiryns during LH IIIC 161 4.2 Krater found in the ash layer above Phase II floor at Aigeira, Achaia 167 4.3 Small fine stirrup jar and amphoriskos from Perati cemetery 175 ix

x

LIST OF FIGUR ES

4.4 Representation of a ship on pottery from Kynos–Livanates 4.5 Cretan Postpalatial transport stirrup jar with octopus wavy lines from Halasmenos 4.6 Postpalatial round-mouthed amphora from Halasmenos 4.7 LH IIIC East Mainland–Aegean Koine: examples of typical vessels 4.8 Mycenaean rim-handled amphora, A99, recovered from the Point Iria shipwreck with potmarks on handles 4.9 Number of transport stirrup jars and round-mouthed amphoras at LM IIIC sites on Crete 4.10 Postpalatial Cretan transport stirrup jars depicted on the walls of Ramesses III’s tomb 5.1 Plan of Nichoria, Unit IV-1 and Nichoria Unit IV-5 5.2 Imported Attic MPG belly-handled amphora from Lefkandi no. 898 5.3 Skyphos from Lefkandi, Skoubris tomb 33 5.4 Frequency of decorated ceramics per 100 m3 at Toumba Thessaloniki by phase 5.5 MPG Attic lekythos from Grave I-Grotta 1971 5.6 Upper half of an early North Aegean amphora found at Lefkandi 5.7 Early North Aegean amphora from Troy 5.8 Group II/late North Aegean amphora from Sindos 6.1 Skyphos depicting a lever press, sixth century BCE 6.2 Oropos. Plan of metal working complex with building Theta and Iota 6.3 Middle Geometric II Attic krater found in Building 150 (Ed150) at Eretria 6.4 Attic column krater, ca. 580–570 BCE 6.5 Percentage of drinking, mixing, serving, pouring, perfume, and transport vessels within the total assemblage of offerings found in Attic tombs during the time period 950–480 BCE 6.6 Early Corinthian A amphora 6.7 Early Athenian SOS amphora 6.8 Dionysos on the François Vase

180 181 182 184 185 189 191 208 214 214 216 221 224 228 228 251 261 262 265

269 276 277 279

MAPS

1.1 1.2 5.1 5.2 5.3 5.4 5.5 6.1 6.2 6.3

Map of the Mediterranean with major sites mentioned in the text page 43 Map of the Aegean with major sites mentioned in the text 44 Map with the northwest Aegean Koine highlighted 198 Possible production locations for early and late North Aegeanamphoras 230 Distribution of early North Aegean amphoras with number and find context indicated 233 Distribution of Group II/late North Aegean amphoras outside of the north Aegean region 235 Distribution of Group II/late North Aegean amphoras within the north Aegean region 236 Extent of Greek and Phoenician colonization 246 Distribution map of SOS amphoras within the Mediterranean, with provenance distinguished 278 Comparison of quantities of Corinthian A and SOS amphoras in Sicily 281

xi

TABLES

1.1 Vulnerability variables due to climate change–induced food shortage page 25 1.2 Chronological table for time periods mentioned in this book 40 2.1 Number of attestations of specific Linear A logograms on Neopalatial tablets and the minimum total amount of the commodity in liters 58 2.2 Number of presses found in Pre-/Protopalatial versus Neopalatial contexts 63 2.3 Minimum number of oval-mouthed amphoras and transport stirrup jars found at large Minoan sites 87 3.1 Distribution by type of record of Linear B tablets recording olives 103 3.2 Distribution by type of record of Linear B tablets recording olive oil 105 3.3 Distribution by type of record of Linear B tablets recording wine 106 3.4 Minimum number of individual vessels and low-end estimate of volume held for contexts at Mycenae and Pylos 111 4.1 Number and percentage of the whole ceramic assemblage of kylikes and deep bowls/skyphoi from the LH IIIB to LH IIIC periods 169

xii

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This book is dedicated to my mother, Susan C. Ferris, who not only read through the entire manuscript twice in extreme detail but also formatted my sixty-page bibliography. Only love could possibly provide the patience and fortitude to do that. Although this might be the apex of her support of my fondness for archaeology, it has been there from the very first introductory course I took during my first year as an undergraduate at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. This book has also benefited from the guidance, insights, and critiques of many other people. Central to these personae are Sarah Morris and John Papadopoulos, who became much more than academic advisors. I must also mention Cindy Colburn, whose kindness continues to have no bounds. As I embark on the new role of parent-researcher, I cherish her insights even more. My comrades-in-archaeology shared moral support, research interests, and insightful conversations that contributed to the shape of the manuscript. They include, but are not limited to, Heidi Dodgen, Hillary Pietricola, Brett Kaufman, Trevor Van Damme, and Bartek Lis. Sarah Murray has been a close comrade for many years, and her fire has helped keep me motivated through many summers of long hours in the Blegen Library. I am thankful for our new adventure as codirectors of the Bays of East Attica Regional Survey. I would also like to thank Mark Lawall, who became both an amphora mentor and friend while writing this book. His knowledge of amphoras and their complexity is truly awe-inspiring. Bernard Knapp and Stella Demesticha also helped shape the ideas in this book by including me in their own enterprises related to maritime transport containers. This book also owes a great debt of gratitude to Carl Knappett, who not only contributed to my knowledge of the intricate world of archaeological ceramics but also introduced me to the editors at Cambridge University Press. Finally, I am very grateful for the support and intellectual stimulation provided by Ian Hodder. He is always quick to push me beyond the boundaries of conventional thinking. Over the years, the research for this book has received various funding and support. At the University of California, Los Angeles, I received the Harry and Yvonne Lenart Graduate Travel Fellowship, the Graduate Summer Research Mentorship Award, the International Institute Graduate Student Fieldwork xiii

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Fellowship, and a Steinmetz Foundation and Friends of Archaeology Award. A large section of research was also conducted as a postdoctoral research fellow with the Hellenic Republic State Scholarships Foundation (IKY) under the auspices of Professor Panos Valavanis at the University of Athens. There are also a few institutions and libraries without which I am quite sure I would not have been able to finish this book. The first is the Blegen Library at the American School of Classical Studies at Athens. Thank you to the staff for their help and for providing a little 5×5 foot home among precious books. The British School of Archaeology at Athens, including the Fitch Laboratory, was a second home and the Canadian Institute in Greece became a third. In Paris, this book benefited from the Bibliothèque Gernet-Glotz at Anthropologie et histoire des mondes antiques (ANHIMA) and from discussions with François de Polignac, Vincent Azoulay, and Paulin Ismard. Finally, I thank the staff and directors, especially Greg Nagy, of the Harvard Center for Hellenic Studies in Washington, DC, for giving me a fellowship and for allowing my return over many years to use the library. I would also like to thank the team at Cambridge University Press. This book was initially accepted for review by Anastasia Graf with Beatrice Rehl soon taking over. I am still awed by the speed and clarity with which Beatrice returns emails and inquiries. Her support guided the book across two rounds of reviews. I would also like to thank the three anonymous reviewers who provided their constructive critiques and insights. They helped craft this book into increasingly better versions. Of course, any remaining errors are my own alone. Last, but certainly not least, I would like to thank my family. My husband, Charles Stocking, has been with me since the very beginning of this enterprise. He has seen this book transform into the 150,000-word behemoth it is today and has witnessed the vast amount of research poured into it because he was there for every minute of it. Every late night in the library. Every trip to archaeological sites or museums. He was there to push me to finish and submit the manuscript before we welcomed our daughter, Stella, into the world. He was also there to wake up excessively early or stay up excessively late to take care of baby Stella as I worked on revisions and edits. As I write this now, I hear him helping a toddler learn her ABCs. Charles and I made a decision to do everything together and support each other’s work. I am so thankful for his presence in my life.

ONE

INTRODUCTION

There are two liquids most pleasing to human bodies: inside – wine, outside – oil. –Pliny (23–79 CE), Natural History XIV, 29.150 It is evident that the country now called Hellas had in ancient times no settled population . . . without commerce, without freedom of communication either by land or sea, cultivating no more of their territory than the exigencies of life required, destitute of capital, never planting their land . . . –Thucydides (ca. 460–400 BCE), History of the Peloponnesian War, 1.2.1–2

OIL, WINE, AND CULTURAL HISTORY IN PRE-CLASSICAL GREECE

This book aims to explore the centrality of olive oil and wine in various realms of ancient Greek life and how this interdependence came to exist and persist. Indeed, this book argues that oil and wine can be regarded not just as economic commodities, but cultural commodities that actively shaped the paths of ancient Greek history. Cultural commodities can be defined as things that have become deeply entangled with humans through increasing ties of dependency that are reinforced by a high value constructed within multiple contexts of exchange. On the one hand, expansions and contractions of dependencies between people and oil/wine can be seen by tracing shifting emphases in exchange modes – such as commensal, gift, and commercial exchange – within their social and environmental contexts over the long term. On the other hand, the

1

2

INTRODUCTION

value attributed to oil and wine, although it generally remained consistently high, was constructed in different ways as internal and external stimuli, including changes in the natural environment, affected the relationships between people and things over time. Cultural commodities therefore lie at the intersection of value, exchange, and dependency, where discontinuation is no longer an option because of the long history of increasing entanglement. Ultimately, cultural commodities become signifiers of identity, deeply rooted in social and ideological practices. For the cultures of pre-Classical Greece, the history of their entanglement with oil and wine is one that begins in the Bronze Age and continues throughout the ensuing Early Iron Age despite dramatic socioeconomic and environmental changes. By the Archaic period, olive oil and wine were taken as an always present staple of daily life: their status as cultural commodities had been solidified. Ultimately, the idea of cultural commodities connects olive oil and wine to their cultural contexts over the longue dure´e, making it possible to project their value and cultural significance into the future. Indeed, the book concludes by suggesting that the history presented here has meaningful implications for the future of oil and wine in the Mediterranean. Scholars, both ancient and modern, have long recognized the fundamental role of olive oil and wine within Mediterranean cultures.1 In the first century CE, very few would have contradicted Pliny the Elder when he wrote that, “There are two liquids most pleasing to human bodies: inside – wine, outside – oil” (Natural History XIV, 29.150). Indeed, both liquids were so ubiquitous and essential to daily life that within his Natural History, Pliny dedicated an entire book to the history and varieties of grapevine and wine (XIV),2 as well as six chapters to the olive tree and oil (XV.1–6). Even our first Greek literature in the Archaic period (around the eighth century BCE) indicates clearly that both olive oil and wine were already intensely integrated into contemporary agricultural, social, and economic spheres. Hesiod’s Works and Days describes in detail the best practices of winemaking, one of the fundamental agricultural activities performed during the yearly cycle. And yet, for ancient Greeks themselves, the history of oil and wine before the Archaic period was unclear at best and otherwise nonexistent. For example, Thucydides’ fifth-century view of the ancient past of Hellas was quite bleak, isolated, and agriculturally destitute. In the section known as the “Archaeology” quoted in the epigraph, he described the land of Greece in “ancient times” as one of dispersed populations producing only the bare minimum of agricultural commodities needed for survival, without “planting” their land, and without access to commercial networks by land or sea (Peloponnesian War 1.2.1–2). Moreover, the verb used for “planting,” φυτεύοντες, specifically expresses the planting of fruit trees, most notably vines and olives.3

OI L, WI NE, A ND CULTUR AL HI S TOR Y

This book aims to show, through a focus on oil and wine, that Thucydides’ concept of his own past as bleak and barren was far from reality. In fact, despite a fluctuating climate and dramatic changes to sociopolitical structures, preHellenes achieved and maintained all of the attributes Thucydides thought they lacked. This book traces how people did indeed plant their land with vines and olive trees from almost the outset of settled life on both the archipelago and Crete. The Minoan palatial era marked the start of extensive production and exchange of oil and wine that was maintained and even strengthened throughout the Mycenaean palatial era as communication by land and sea increased substantially. One could say that Thucydides is merely referring to his more recent past, that is, what we call the Early Iron Age. While his picture of a bleak and “dark” Iron Age was indeed once accepted by scholars and archaeologists, research over the last 30 years has overturned these misconceptions.4 Not only did people continue to cultivate olives and grapes after the collapse of the palaces, but they also adopted innovative and adaptive solutions to the problems faced by climate change and population movements. Production shifted toward more hospitable regions at the same time that exchange networks were maintained, even across the Aegean. By the end of the Early Iron Age and the beginning of the Archaic era, it is increasingly clear that the regional entanglements surrounding oil and wine were expanding and interacting at more complex levels. The close of the pre-Classical period marks the point when Greek oil and wine, as cultural commodities, were deeply entrenched within group identity, produced in large quantities of surplus, and exchanged over vast stretches of the Mediterranean. The prehistory of oil and wine therefore challenges long-held notions of decline, isolation, and darkness. To date, no scholar has focused on the long-term prehistory of olive oil and wine in Greece. Their focus has generally been placed on either the introduction of oil and wine production or the flourishing trade of these two commodities in the Classical, Hellenistic, and Roman periods.5 The intervening Early Iron Age is commonly overlooked altogether. Scholarly work that has addressed olive oil or wine tend to do so separately while concentrating on a narrow time period, geographical region, or amphora type.6 Moreover, few books have addressed how and to what extent the changes in oil and wine use affect or reflect the changes in Greek history. These trends in the literature are not without their reasons. Up to now, there has been a particular dearth of data related to daily life in the Early Iron Age. This is especially apparent when addressing archaeobotanical evidence, which itself had been overlooked for most other time periods as well. Recently, however, there has been a dramatic shift in focus for both broader historical interests and detailed objective analyses. The Postpalatial era and Early Iron Age have become subjects of interest, stemming from and leading to the publication of archaeological data related to those time periods.7 In addition, a renewed interest in the diet and

3

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INTRODUCTION

agricultural practices of ancient people has fueled research and publication of archaeobotanical data, palaeoenvironmental analyses, and residue analyses conducted on pots used for cooking and eating.8 These recent trends present an opportune time for a synthesis of many variable data into a coherent treatise on olive oil and wine in the preClassical eras. In contrast to previous works, this book contextualizes olive oil and wine within longer-term sociopolitical trends, shifting exchange networks, and broader environmental histories that are not easily grasped through short-term perspectives. Adopting a long-term perspective allows an understanding of the dynamics of the relationships between humans and their social and environmental world. On a detailed level, the monograph is also concerned with the micro-history and material culture of oil and wine, particularly, their production, exchange, and consumption in specific social and economic contexts. Furthermore, it considers this historical phenomenon as an ideal occasion to delve deeper into broader theoretical issues of dependence, value, agency, and connectivity. The implications of this historical study have a meaningful impact on issues of current and future agricultural practice and commerce in the Mediterranean. By understanding the resiliency of the relationship between people and olive oil/wine over a long period of time, we can gain some general insight into how to maintain these connections through political, economic, and environmental hardship. As the Mediterranean once again enters into dramatic climate change today, it is important to understand more fully the outcomes of these changes in the past and how populations adapted to and, eventually, thrived in new conditions. Indeed, the cultural commodities of olive oil and wine were as much entangled in Greece’s past as they are in Greece’s future. OIL–WINE, OLIVES–VINES

The central objects of study in this book, olive oil and grape wine, are considered here together for very specific and necessary reasons. From a broader perspective, oil and wine can both be labeled as value-added commodities. That is to say, both olive oil and wine are derivatives of products that could have acted as simple commodities in and of themselves (olives and grapes) and, through technological skill, they are transformed into different commodities. In most cases, value-added commodities are considered more “valuable” because of the time, effort, and knowledge needed to produce them. In the case of both olive oil and especially wine, this transformation also brings about the additional benefit of an extended shelf life (although we do assume whole olives were also preserved in a similar way as today; Foxhall 2007, 12). Olive oil and wine are also useful to consider together since both processes of value-addition are very similar, both in concept and in the equipment used (and found in the

OIL–W I NE, OL I VES–V I NES

archaeological record). Of course there are some differences (e.g., specific growing regions, type of maintenance, labor necessary for harvest) but in general, the production of both oil and wine benefit from domesticated plants, which need constant and seasonal attention.9 In addition, the equipment needed for both commodities includes specialized pressing beds, along with large catchment basins/pots, liquid bulk storage containers, liquid bulk transport containers, and smaller consumption containers. In most cases, it is impossible to determine definitively whether a container meant for liquids (based on shape) held either oil or wine. Indeed, many residue analyses determine that specific pots could have been used for either liquid, or in some cases both liquids had been inside the same pot at some point. As will be argued throughout this book, one final reason to consider both oil and wine together is their compatibility with regards to social contexts and their archaeological remains. Both oil and wine were used in the same types of activities and their respective exchange contexts. For example, in Bronze Age Greece, based on archaeological and written sources, oil and wine were both used in ritual activities, which included feasting and gift-giving. Containers for oil and wine, as well as drinking equipment, are found in almost all contexts of ancient Greek life including cemeteries, shrines, palaces, urban houses, farmsteads, and shipwrecks.

Oil and Wine Production: Technologies and the Archaeological Record The first oil and wine production in Greece came relatively late. The earliest evidence not only for domestication but also for pressing olives for oil and grapes for wine comes from the Near East. Although recent studies of patterns in genetic variation of olives and grapes suggest a longer, more complex trajectory (Besnard et al. 2001, 2011; Arroyo-Garcia et al. 2006), the domestication of the olive has traditionally been placed in the Jordan Valley, and perhaps the site of Teleilat Ghassoul more specifically (Zohary and SpiegelRoy 1975; Kislev 1987; Neef 1990; Hadjisavvas 2003, 117). This area could be extended more broadly to Palestine in the Chalcolithic era (sixth millennium BCE). The first use of wild olives for oil was discovered off the Carmel coast in Israel, where archaeologists have found hundreds of olive pips resting on stone grinding surfaces and in pits at the site of Atlit-Yam, suggesting some sort of processing as early as the Pottery Neolithic period (Galili et al. 1997 Hadjisavvas 2003, 117; Foxhall 2007, 13). Grapes were purposefully cultivated and wine produced about 3200 BCE in the Near East, although we know wild grapes were used much earlier (Hansen 2002, 55). Arguably the earliest evidence for wine production comes from the fourth millennium site of Areni cave in Armenia. There, grapes were crushed in a shallow, slightly slanted, and grooved ceramic 1m-long basin on the floor. From there, the must flowed

5

6

INTRODUCTION

directly into a 60cm-deep vat imbedded into the floor where it would have fermented (Barnard et al. 2011). In Greece, the earliest evidence for wine production has been dated to sometime in the fifth millennium both on Crete and in Northern Greece (Valamoti 2004; Sarpaki 2012, 214). Olive cultivation was introduced in southern Greece and Crete at the end of the Neolithic Era and evidence for oil production becomes evident during the Bronze Age (Valamoti et al. 2018, 184; Langgut et al. 2019).10 Once the knowledge of making oil and wine became more widespread, multiple ways of pressing the fruit developed. The scale of production and access to resources would have determined whether simple mortars and pestles or larger, dedicated, and specialized facilities would have been necessary. Since there would often have been a correlation between the type of pressing facility and the scale of production, we can use changes in the types of grape or olive presses and fluctuations in their frequency in the archaeological record as proxies for changes in scale of oil and wine production. The actual and probable technologies of oil and wine processing are therefore important topics to address. Trends in these processing facilities visible over time can tell us about the production of oil and wine, its relative value, and the entanglements between people and things. Pressing technologies for both olive oil and wine have been thoroughly analyzed in previous publications (for in-depth overviews, see Brun 1993; Brun 2003, 53–58, 146–158; Brun 2004, 7–24; Foxhall 1993, 2007, 131–217; see also contributions in Amouretti and Brun 1993). Most studies, however, focus on the Hellenistic and Roman periods when pressing facilities are relatively easily identified and more prolific. Before this point, invisibility is an inherent problem. Trends in the location of pressing activities certainly changed over time and space and any rural production is inherently difficult, if not impossible, to identify with certainty.11 For information on pressing outside of urban zones, one must turn to survey data. Indeed, Foxhall’s (2007, 172, 173–176, table 6.2, 182–204) extensive overview of pressing equipment found in surveys throughout Greece indicates that pressing activities were often undertaken not only outside of urban spaces, but also outside of the immediate vicinity of farmsteads (i.e., out in the fields or groves themselves). Postdepositional activities might also play a part in the invisibility of stone pressing equipment since these objects were frequently reused both in antiquity and in our modern era (Foxhall 2007, 172). Moreover, it is often impossible to assign a secure date to these items since stone pressing technology changed very little over time and they are often found out of context or unassociated with other, datable, material. Out of the seventy-five entries recorded in Foxhall’s (2007, 173–176, table 6.2) overview of pressing equipment found in survey, forty-six are identified as RomanLate Roman with some labeled as “reused,” fifteen are undatable, and twelve are identified as Classical or Classical-Hellenistic, with some uncertainty.

OIL–W I NE, OL I VES–V I NES

The remainder are Medieval or modern. From this study alone it is clear that the vast majority of pressing equipment found in surveys is difficult to identify, variably interpreted, and nearly impossible to date with any certainty if it is not clearly a Roman-era trapetum press (Brun 1993; Foxhall 2007, 165–172). The data are complicated further by the fact that some evidence suggests these presses had multiple functions. As argued by Foxhall (2007, 132, 138, 184), presses could be transportable and multipurpose for wine, oil, or other industrial activities.12 The variable and complicated evidence for pressing in the Hellenistic, Classical, and Archaic periods has been thoroughly addressed by Lin Foxhall (1993; 2007, 138–165; see also Brun 2004, 84–130). The Archaic era presents the most complete evidence for large-scale “lever and beam” press installations at Azoria on Crete and Klazomenai on the coast of Asia Minor. Chapter 6 provides an in-depth overview of these two production facilities, as well as the complications with their interpretation. As discussed in Chapters 4 and 5, little evidence is available for pressing technologies in the Postpalatial era and Early Iron Age, which might suggest a change in scale of production or location of processing facilities. For these time periods, it is necessary to turn to other evidence for oil and wine production, including archaeobotanical remains, storage facilities, and contemporary craft production. It is in fact the Bronze Age that presents some of our best and most abundant evidence for olive and grape processing facilities (Brun 2004, 72–76). The thorough study, now over 25 years old, by Platon and Kopaka (1993) argued, based on their analysis of over forty presses, that there are three types of presses present on Minoan Crete and that their primary purposes can be understood by examining the characteristics of each type as a whole along with trends in its architectural placement, associated objects, associated archaeobotanical remains, and by analogy with ethnographic and historical examples. Their work serves as a foundation upon which new data from Crete and elsewhere can be integrated.13 Wine production has been assigned as the primary purpose for Type I and II pressing installations, while olive oil production was primarily intended for Type III. The most basic and prevalent Type I pressing installation includes a ceramic high-walled crushing bed with a large, wide spout accompanied by a large catchment pot at a lower level. Type II pressing installations are larger rectangular basins built within a room or carved out of bedrock in an extra-urban environment where grapes would be crushed by foot. These basins have a channel or outlet leading to either a catchment pot or another basin placed at a lower level to catch the must. Type III installations are identified by a large, usually circular, and shallow cut-stone crushing bed with a narrow spout. Their stone construction and morphology strongly suggest crushing olives was their primary purpose. Chapters 2 and 3 provide an in-depth discussion of these three production technologies and how trends in their typology, context, and

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INTRODUCTION

frequency can help elucidate changes to scale and control of oil and wine production in the Minoan and Mycenaean palatial eras. When addressing the production and exchange of oil and wine, it is also important to consider the production of a surplus. The idea that groups of people, from the first sedentary farmers to the nations of today, tend to produce a surplus of edible goods is a common fact. Most would say that the primary reason to produce a surplus of food is to withstand fluctuations in growing seasons and climate, such that if a bad drought hinders the amount of food produced, then the surplus from the previous year would tide people over. This simplistic view of surplus, however, has continually come into question (see, e.g., Bogaard 2017). Are there no other reasons to produce a surplus? Who is in charge of this surplus production, its storage, and its distribution? Anthropological studies on feasting have shown that surplus was indeed used for means other than purely practical and that the control of such surplus (and the ability to give it away) was a marker of distinction and power. Indeed, surplus can be envisioned as a culturally constructed “state of mind” dictated by what is thought to “be enough,” a concept that is influenced by who controls the surplus (Hastorf and Foxhall 2017, 37). Many recent studies have shown that pre-Classical Greek societies generally maintained a surplus of foodstuffs and its control varied according to region and time period. On Late Bronze Age Crete, surplus was stored in central-court buildings, often called palaces, in large pithoi within a labyrinth of storerooms and magazines (Christakis 2008). Similarly, Late Bronze Age palaces on the Mycenaean mainland also maintained rooms stocked with large jars, presumably filled with food. In contrast, perhaps a more communal aspect to surplus storage was adopted in northern Greece at this same time (Margomenou 2008). Regarding the surplus of oil and wine specifically, two issues must be addressed. The first is that oil and wine are not grain and water. This means that one could argue that there should have been no need for a large surplus in these two liquids since they were not necessary for human or animal survival. Of course, olive oil provides essential fatty acids and wine could have been used to sterilize water given a high enough alcohol content.14 As added-value commodities, they are the product of additional labor and expertise applied to otherwise viable commodities (olives and grapes). Yet, the fact remains that oil and wine are not necessary for human survival. But could someone from the ancient Mediterranean imagine surviving without them? This question is especially pertinent if we consider the production of surplus for reasons other than survival, namely, competitive display (giftgiving, feasting) and exchange (barter, trade). To consider the importance of oil and wine within these two realms where surplus is necessary, we must consider why and how these two liquids acquired such prominence within ancient Greek culture.

CULTURAL COMMODITI ES

CULTURAL COMMODITIES: DEPENDENCY, VALUE, AND THE LONGUE DURÉE

What initially motivated this project was the striking extent to which olive oil and wine are integrated into the daily lives and seasonal rhythms of people living in modern Greece. Perhaps even more striking was that despite dramatic political, social, economic, and environmental changes in recent history, Greek people nevertheless maintained their connections to their ancestral land and the products elicited from that land (even if they now live in a city; see, e.g., Forbes 1993). This insight led to the consideration of what are the underlying motivations, both conscious and subconscious, for the maintenance of this incredibly long-lasting connection between people, place, oil, and wine – present and past. Did communities in the pre-Classical period of Greece also maintain this continuity despite external and internal change? The synthesis of the archaeological, textual, and contextual evidence for the pre-Classical period of Greece presented here suggests that people did indeed develop a sort of inescapable relationship with oil and wine. During this long-term process, oil and wine became, what I call, cultural commodities and remain as such until today, a point to which the Conclusion of the book returns. In this book, I define cultural commodities as products that continue to be produced because they have become indispensable for the functioning of social and economic exchanges well beyond economic advantage. Cultural commodities can therefore be considered in opposition to subsistence commodities or economic commodities, such as a “cash crop” – commodities produced primarily for their economic benefits. The indispensability of cultural commodities is a result of the intersection of dependency and value. That is, a relationship of dependency developed between people and the commodity that was reinforced and held in place over time by a positive network of value. It was both needed and wanted. In the case presented here, oil and wine take an active role, shaping ancient Greek culture as they became inextricably bound to humans and humans to them. Ultimately, the cultural commodities of oil and wine become signifiers of Greek cultural identity, deeply rooted in social and ideological practices, rather than mere agricultural products functioning within an economic vacuum. To delve deeper into this concept of cultural commodities, it is perhaps useful to explore the ideas of dependency and value as they apply to the ancient past. More specifically, it is important to address why these two ideas are integral for understanding the historical trajectory of oil and wine in the pre-Classical period.

Dependency and Entanglement Dependency is a concept that has recently gained attention as one of the main ideas behind the theory of “entanglement” (Hodder 2012, 2014).15

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INTRODUCTION

Entanglement describes the complex relationships generated between people and things over time. Specifically, the relationships between people and things can be designated as ones of dependence (pl. dependences) or dependency (pl. dependencies). Dependence suggests a positive relationship whereby the one gains something through the presence of the other, whereas dependency suggests a more negative relationship whereby the one could not survive without the other. In his seminal work on the subject, Ian Hodder defines entanglement as the sum of the dependency between humans and things, things and things, things and humans, and humans and humans (represented as E=HT+TT+TH+HH). In this definition the word “thing” can include not only material objects, but also immaterial concepts such as institutions (which in themselves are bundles of human–thing interaction), thoughts, and even feelings. In this way, a “thing” is ultimately a flow of matter, energy, and information (Hodder 2012, 218).16 Entanglement therefore takes the centrality of things espoused by material culture and materiality studies to the next level by assigning the same “things” primary agency. This is not to say that things necessarily actively think about how to act in the world. Rather, things achieve this level of agency through their temporality and physicality. These attributes of things, that they have a certain scheduled life that involves decay, serves to draw humans into their care, thereby creating a certain “stickiness” or “entrapment.” A pot, for example, does not have active agency in the sense that it thinks about its surroundings. Yet when it breaks the humans around it have to take action and make decisions about mending it, reusing it, or discarding it. Agency, therefore, does not have to be a conscious state, but rather a mode of eliciting action from or affecting in some way the world around you. The inescapability of this relationship between humans and things is the hallmark of the concept of entanglement: humans cannot disavow things (Hodder 2012, 68–70, 79). As living things, grapevines and olive trees have the potential to influence humans in a particularly prominent and active way. One way that the agency of vines and olive trees can be seen is during the process of domestication and propagation. Plants of all kinds have the “desire” to reproduce (van der Veen 2014, 800). That is, all plants exist with certain mechanisms that allow for and encourage reproduction through various means, such as colors, smells, attractive morphology for bees and birds, and so on. When people started to domesticate olive trees and grapevines and cultivate those that produced the most pleasing fruit, the plants immediately became dependent on humans for their care. Instead of planting from seeds, which takes too long to generate a fruit-bearing plant, farmers used the technique of vegetative propagation. In this process, farmers choose the best individual that produces the best fruit and graft or clone it to keep that particular genetic line going. For the grapevine, important traits include hermaphroditic, self-pollinating flowers, a thicker stem,

CULTURAL COMMODITI ES

and larger, juicier fruit (Palmer 1994, 13). As plants are manipulated, they become more dependent on human care. For example, one effect of the thickerstemmed free-standing vines is that the plants need constant attention – trenching, fertilizing, pruning and weeding every year or they will be unproductive (Palmer 1994, 14). One could also say, however, that these plants were in some way manipulating humans. By creating larger, sweeter or more robust fruit, the plants enticed humans to continue their reproduction (Jones and Cloke 2008, 84). The primary objective in the life of grapevines and olive trees was therefore fulfilled by the “domesticating” actions of humans (Pollan 2001). Through the gradual alteration of its morphology and fruit, the plant actively drew humans into its care, thereby achieving a level of agency even beyond that of a static object. The concept of entanglement is not only useful for viewing the relationships between people and things through the lens of dependency and agency, but it is also useful to trace changes to those relationships over time. The complex interconnections between humans and things are not static, but highly dynamic and develop a dimension of directionality. That is, the stronger the entrapment between humans and things – the “tautness” of the entanglement – the more difficult it is to change course as the dependencies between the various agents increase. In the case of oil and wine in ancient Greece, once vines and olive trees had been thoroughly domesticated and their products fully integrated into the daily, ritual, and political lives of people, they were inextricably bound together, despite tumultuous eras of political collapse and demographical shifts. This is not to say, however, that entanglements maintain a linear trajectory of increasing tautness. On the contrary, the unstable and disruptive nature of humans and things will inevitably cause “untyings” or “catalysis” as things, humans, institutions, and so on, break down or fail (Hodder 2012, 167). At these moments, solutions are sought that will hold fast the integrity of the entanglement over the long term, even if there is a need for some loosening at various points. The solutions take the shape of transformations to things that ultimately increase the “fittingness” of these things within the entanglement and within that particular context in time. In this sense, fittingness can be understood as how things work to increase the tautness of the entanglement (Hodder 2012, 113–135). This inevitably involves some amount of resonance and reverberation between human conception, body, and the things around them. Even at moments of severe untying, that is, historical “collapse,” it can be demonstrated that the entanglement does not disperse, but rather alters. As will be discussed in Chapter 4, various alterations to the entanglement between people, oil and wine, can be traced through the archaeological record after the collapse of the Mycenaean palaces around 1200 BCE. In particular, the formerly mass-produced transport container for these commodities in the Late Bronze Age, the transport stirrup jar, disappears entirely in favor of vessels that

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INTRODUCTION

are more easily produced and flexible in their uses, such as hydrias and amphoras. Because of their dynamic yet resilient nature, entanglements are good tools for answering questions about long-term problems. Here, entanglements are a particularly useful framework when tracing the production and exchange of oil and wine over hundreds of years. How the relationships between people and oil/wine change over time will provide meaningful information about long-term changes to important social and economic practices, such as agricultural strategies, land management, ritual acts, and social hierarchy. In order to successfully describe entanglements as they change over time, it is important to consider major variables within the entanglement. Alteration of these variables would cause significant change throughout the many relationships of dependency. In other words, the shape that the entanglement takes is due to the nature of the things and people within it and each one’s relative influence over the connections of dependency holding the entanglement together. Hodder (2012) suggests that increased dependence is a product of things being unstable and finite, so that change within entanglements is continually produced. Hence, change within entanglements is the result of discovering technological, social, and cultural solutions to this instability. “Things” here can be institutions, social groups, or any other bundle of humans, ideas, and physical objects. So what about the “central authorities” of the Neopalatial court-centered buildings? This is a thing whose instability would certainly have had the potential to produce significant changes within the entanglement. But what about a pottery kiln? It would certainly have been an integral part of the entanglement between people, oil, and wine. But would the instability of the kiln and its technological solution have had the same potential to change the entanglement? Maybe. In the larger scheme of things, in the broader picture of the entanglement, the central authorities can be said to have had the potential to enact a greater change. In this case “change” would mean the ability to affect the connections of dependency between people and things, that is, the ability to generate, suppress, encourage, or control connections of dependency. The greater this ability to affect the connections, the more “central” an element of the entanglement becomes. One of the variables that can be used to describe entanglement is therefore centrality.17 A low number of strong agents (people or things) would constitute a centralized entanglement, whereas a high number of weaker agents would constitute a decentralized entanglement. The other variable worth including in descriptions of entanglements is scale. Large-scale entanglements would have a high number of total agents, whereas small-scale entanglements would have fewer agents. With these distinctions in mind and with an eye to the longue durée, it is possible to visualize the variation in centralization and scale of entanglements by means of an x-y grid (Figure 1.1). Points on this grid would reflect the

CULTURAL COMMODITI ES

Large scale

Decentralized

Centralized

Small scale

1.1 Grid for visualizing variations in entanglements over time through changes to scale and centralization. Image by author

nature of the entanglement at a given moment in time. Since entanglements are not a static fact, but a continually changing dynamic relationship, it is impossible to categorize them into rigid typologies. Throughout this book, therefore, it will be important to refer back to this visualization in order to describe the change in entanglements over time. This dynamic complexity of entanglements is perhaps best illustrated by an example. The entanglement encountered between people and oil/wine in the Mycenaean palatial era was extremely centralized and large-scale. Chapter 3 presents the evidence supporting the notion that the central authorities, seated in palatial structures, regulated most aspects of surplus production, distribution, and consumption. That is not to say that they controlled every aspect of the economy. Rather, the palatial authorities seem to have had an influence, whether direct or indirect, in the choices made during acts of exchange. This certainly included an influence on the value of the things exchanged and their importance within the broader entanglement. Following the Late Bronze Age collapse, however, the relationships and dependencies between people and oil/ wine changed dramatically, leading to an entanglement that can be described as centralized, yet small-scale (Figure 1.2). As outlined in Chapter 4, there was a shift toward an overall decrease in the number of actors (people and things) within the entanglement’s connections. A small-scale supply of surplus oil and wine was produced locally, reserved, and carefully controlled by local central authorities. Of course there are infinite variations in entanglements and therefore infinite points on this grid, but it is nevertheless fruitful to be able to describe

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INTRODUCTION

Large scale

Early Archaic period Mycenaean Palatial era

Minoan Palatial era Decentralized

Centralized

Early Iron Age

Small scale

Postpalatial era

1.2 Grid for visualizing changes to entanglements with the time periods discussed in the book plotted for reference. Image by author

entanglements as they morph over time, even if the description is only relative to what came before and after. As an interpretive tool, capturing the nature of the entanglement at a given point in time is essential for understanding the historical trajectory of oil and wine over the longue durée. By tracing these entanglements through time, it is possible to answer “how” oil and wine became so important within the Greek cultural milieu.

Value and Exchange To answer “why” oil and wine became so important within Greek culture one must turn to the idea of “value.” In the framework outlined earlier, value is the second component of a cultural commodity. The term “value” carries with it an exhaustive history of scholarship that is beyond the scope of this introduction.18 It is important to acknowledge, though, that the term “value” is itself dynamic and consequently does not necessarily refer to only monetary, personal, or cultural value. Rather, the concept of value spans all of these loci and more. What is particularly pertinent to the discussion of olive oil and wine in the ancient world, however, is the relative place that these commodities held in relation to all other things within a particular cultural context.19 How this place is determined is complex and will be returned to below. The idea of dependence only represents a step toward understanding the specifically economic aspects of surplus products (in the most general sense) and how the economic realities of the ancient Greek world changed over time. It is

CULTURAL COMMODITI ES

also necessary to consider the construction of value, since, as argued in this book, value is one of the main glues holding dependencies together. Connections of dependency between people and things represent the presence of need. People need other people to help with the grape harvest or much of the yield will go bad. A pot needs a person to fix it or it will remain a broken pile of sherds. But what if the person does not value that pot worthy of being fixed? What if the value of grapes diminishes such that the vineyard owner does not need to harvest them all and therefore does not need the help of his neighbors or a large labor force? What these small examples bring to the fore is the idea that need and dependence are not necessarily the sole motivator behind the existence of a particular thing over time. The value that is attributed to a person or thing is an important factor in determining its place within an entanglement and how long it will keep that place. Like dependencies and their resultant entanglements, value is fickle and changes over time. Value is therefore another interpretive category that can be useful when asking questions about problems over the long-term. In other words, both oil and wine had to be continuously valued within Greek culture such that their production was deemed unequivocally essential over thousands of years. As will be discussed in this book, not all products related to oil and wine are present over time as values change (e.g., stirrup jars disappear, conical cups disappear, kylikes, etc.). It is therefore necessary to consider how the value of commodities and related products were constructed in the ancient past and what determines whether the value of something changes over time or remains constant. It is at this point that exchange is of the utmost importance. Exchange is necessary for understanding value because, within a cultural economy paradigm, value is created at the moment of exchange, which, in turn, informs production and consumption of the particular thing exchanged. The specific value attributed to that thing at that moment of exchange is determined by calculative agents of both a human and nonhuman kind within an uncertain economic world (Gregory 2014; Knight 1921). This paradigm is in opposition to the idea that value is created by worker-labor or individual rationality within a predictable system.20 In this way, cultural economy represents a paradigm shift because it is market-centric, rather than production-centric or consumption-centric (Gregory 2014).21 Because value is conceived as calculated by both humans and things, the cultural economy paradigm falls into the category of post-humanist approaches to the economy, that is, assigning things primary agency. This agency is accomplished through actor-networks, “calculative agencies,” that configure ontologies. Actors (both human and nonhuman) are therefore embedded in a network (or, are the network) of social relations that are constantly renegotiating meanings.22 Hence, value is conceived not through individual reasoning

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INTRODUCTION

or bureaucratic regulation, but rather a blending together of all concepts of and influences on the construction of a thing’s value, as distributed across both human and nonhuman entities. The value itself is determined when two calculative agencies come together at a moment of exchange. In other words, exchange is the process by which calculative agencies, made up of humans and things, compete and/or cooperate with one another. This competition takes place when each agency is able to integrate the framed calculations of other agencies into its own calculations, thereby producing negotiations (Callon 1998, 32). This competition is the result of agencies having calculating tools of differing levels of efficiency – the knowledgeable versus naïve buyer/seller. Of course, this theoretical framework cannot be applied entirely to the ancient past and our problem of how and why oil and wine became cultural commodities. Rather, it is a useful tool, a heuristic, with which we can think about the evidence available for the exchange of these two commodities. This book is not concerned with the direct operationalization of actor-networks, but instead chooses to consider it as one of the underlying principles governing why the archaeological record looks the way it does today; as the result of the complex affective connections between humans and things that generate meaning and value over time. By assigning things active agency, the cultural economic approach to the ancient economy can be effectively combined with entanglement theory, as outlined earlier. Hence, the ideas of dependency and value, as expressed here, are connected by their conceptual framework, which is rooted in the power of meaningful connections between human and nonhuman agents. By concentrating on the dialectal relationship of dependences and dependencies between things and humans within the context of a cultural economic paradigm, we can move away from the idea of value as a contained entity, localized in a single place within the life of an object, and instead move toward value as continually negotiated throughout the life of an object where its exchange informs its production and consumption. In other words, we cannot understand the value of something as a finite attribution. It is constantly generated and regenerated through the socialness of the object itself, that is, its relational materiality (what objects are as actors), human desire of objects (Graeber’s humanist perspective; 2001, 2005, 2011), and the marriage of these two viewpoints, one of which being the creation of calculative agencies within an actornetwork. What this suggests is that the web of dependences between humans and things not only holds the fabric of a society on a forward trajectory, but also creates value using the same connections, conceptual abstractions, resonances, and notions of fittingness. This creation of value through calculative agencies and their dependences within an entanglement provides the necessary ammunition for exchange both within the entanglement and with other people and their own, different entanglements. Hence, object agency and network “thinking”/

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analysis connect how (dependency) and why (value) olive oil and wine became important in pre-Classical Greek societies by observing the interactions of entanglements through exchange contexts over long periods of time.

Modes of Exchange If, within the cultural economy paradigm, the value of things, and humans for that matter, is constructed at the point of exchange, then it is necessary to examine prominent modes of exchange (any transaction from one entity to another) and how those modes change over time. The transformations of modes of exchange not only affect how the value of something is interpreted, but these shifts also affect, and are affected by, changes in the broader dependences that make up an entanglement. For example, a shift from an item existing within exclusive elite gift exchange to being accessible on an open market will affect the people and associated things involved with its manufacture, shipping, and use. This book will consider the particular roles of surplus oil and wine within common modes of exchange in pre-Classical Greece and how these roles and their exchange contexts transformed within shifting socioeconomic boundaries. Multiple modes of exchange – redistribution, trade, barter, gift-giving, and so on – can coexist at the same time and are fluid within a society, blurring distinct boundaries of meaning. Indeed, the cultural economy paradigm strives to dissolve the distinction between gifts and commodities and the bounded restrictions of tribe/peasant/capitalism to see a more continual, intertwined, and perhaps entangled, world of globalization. This idealization works well for the modern world when it is possible to reference exact transactions, personal accounts of events, and historical records in order to reconstruct boundary-less types of exchange. For the ancient past, however, we rely on what is left in the archaeological record and what little biased documentation has survived. It is therefore impossible to retain an idealized world of indistinct types of exchange when desiring to create meaning from what little evidence is presented. In other words, in order to generate meaningful data about exchange in the ancient world it is necessary to draw some informed boundaries. In doing so, one creates categories that can be juxtaposed and traced through time. For the time periods addressed in this book, and for the types of remains available in the archaeological and textual records, exchange can be divided into three basic modes: commensal, gift, and commercial.23 Commensal Exchange. The act of communal dining or feasting is one of the most prominent and long-lasting forms of surplus exchange in Greek prehistory. Indeed, it is a common mode of exchange in many, if not most, cultures around the world.24 In a way, a feast represents a microcosm or

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INTRODUCTION

a culmination of the broader connections between people and things. In these events, human and thing interactions bring to light the underlying infrastructure in place within a society. This infrastructure is composed of hierarchical and heterarchical nodes within both the human and nonhuman world. For example, feasts made clear the tensions of human sociality, including distinction versus cohesion, hoarding versus sharing, and accumulation versus dispersal (Gamble 2004). In addition, various configurations of individuality, corporeality and sociality were played out and challenged, albeit through the use of large vessels for collective eating and drinking or smaller individual ones, or through the use of plain and homogenous pottery that signaled, at least superficially, collective identity (Hamilakis and Sherratt 2012, 194). Based on the location, equipment, and scale of feasting practices, it is possible to make some distinctions between types of feasting events and their ultimate purpose within a society. Such purposes include segregation, communalism, and debtreparation, along with many others (see, e.g., Dietler and Hayden 2001; Hayden 2014). Despite an obvious fluidity between types of commensal events, it is nevertheless possible to distinguish between what Michael Dietler (2001) describes as entrepreneurial or empowering feasts, patron-role feasts, and diacritical feasts. Each of these three types is distinguished by scale of attendance and the extent to which the feast emphasizes or masks the distinctions between participants. Entrepreneurial or empowering feasts highlight the high-status role of the hosts and their ability to hold elaborate feasts for the community. In this case, surplus oil and wine would have been used within the context of reciprocity as a way to take part in a status competition. Patron-role feasts are provided by high-status hosts to lower-status guests and are often used to acknowledge labor provided by the guests in fulfillment of their social obligations. Here, surplus is used within the context of reciprocity that reinforces existing hierarchies. Finally, diacritical feasts are not open to all members of the community but are restricted to high-status individuals. These types of feasts serve to delineate elites from non-elites. Within the archaeological record, this last type of feast is best seen by the use of specialized equipment and consumption of special foods and drink. Dietler’s categories of feasts, along with their variations, will often be considered for the time periods and cultures addressed in this book as they signal the existence of specific dependences between people and things, as well as specific values attributed to the things involved with the commensal acts, including surplus wine and oil. For example, a shift from diacritical feasts to empowering feasts would require a significant increase in oil and wine production and storage, especially if the frequency of events also increased. Therefore, the specific transitions, and the specific things transitioning, within feasting practices over time can be indications of broader transformations within the entanglement and the network of calculative agents involved with valuecreation.

CULTURAL COMMODITI ES

Gift Exchange. The concept of gift-giving has received much attention since even before Marcel Mauss’ seminal work, published in 1923.25 Since then, the topic, particularly within anthropological discourse, has remained popular.26 As discussed earlier, the lines between various types of exchanges are blurry. This fluidity becomes especially evident when discussing “giving” and “gifts.” Giftgiving can take multiple forms and is in no way mutually exclusive from commercial or any other type of exchange within a society, ancient or modern. Because of the fluidity of the concept of giving, it is necessary to analyze historically the gift in its broader social and economic context and its relationship to other forms of exchange in its cultural, political, and religious components (Carlà and Gori 2014, 31). Indeed, most feasts and commensal exchanges can be interpreted as a form of giving since often participants did not contribute directly to the feast, but instead contributed indirectly or exchanged at some point particular services or goods.27 There are, however, non-commensal situations where giving is the predominant mode of exchange. By non-commensal gift exchange, I mean the offering of wine or oil to someone without the expectation of consuming the commodities oneself or of receiving something immediately in return (as one would in a commercial context).28 Two of the most prominent locations where it might be possible to see these types of exchanges are sanctuaries and cemeteries. Distinguishing between oil and wine containers used for feasting events at sanctuaries and cemeteries versus those objects given as gifts to deities or the deceased is a very difficult, and often impossible task. Despite these overlaps, it is nevertheless possible to distinguish in the archaeological record some items that had been intended as “gifts” in the sense outlined earlier, such as ritual offerings left behind and grave goods deposited with the deceased. Olive oil and wine were frequently used, in various forms, as gifts to gods and the deceased. The Minoan and Mycenaean palatial administrations were very concerned with providing perfumed oil and wine to sanctuaries, as indicated in the surviving documentary evidence. At the same time, sanctuaries and shrines are often littered with containers designated for perfumed oils and wines, and in some instances, there is evidence for larger-scale storage of these two commodities in sacred places. In addition, perfumed oil and wine seem to have been a staple of the funerary realm throughout all time periods addressed. Indeed, the most abundant type of vessel found in the Postpalatial era, the small decorated stirrup jar, is found in massive quantities with the deceased. The changing quantities of oil- and winecarrying containers found in sanctuaries and tombs plays an important role in understanding the value that these two commodities continued to hold as social and economic conditions dramatically altered. These data also provide meaningful evidence toward understanding the scale and structure of the oil and wine industries over time and how the relationships between people and these two commodities fluctuated as entanglements changed.

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Commercial Exchange. Commercial exchange, or trade, is the final mode of exchange that will be included as a means of tracing the trajectory of value and dependence between people and oil/wine. In contrast to commensal and gift exchange, commercial exchange can often provide a more direct window onto the perceived value of something as it comes up against the value of something else. This juxtaposition creates meaningful, though relative, information about how the thing traded fits into a culturally specific regime of value. Of course, it is difficult to see these trading actions through the archaeological record. Textual records can be much more explicit about the relative value of specific things. In the Minoan and Mycenaean palatial eras, written records concerned primarily with movements of goods into and out of the palaces provide some clues. As discussed in Chapters 2 and 3, it is possible to reconstruct the relative values of, for example, olive oil to wine to barley to figs. For the Postpalatial era and Early Iron Age, the complete lack of written records leaves a large gap in the dataset. It is therefore necessary to rely on the archaeological record alone. Fortunately, there are some key objects that provide proxy information related to the trade of surplus olive oil and wine: specifically, large ceramic jars intended for the transportation of bulk liquids, namely, amphoras.29 For amphoras, standardization of production, the scope of their distribution, and how they and their contents were consumed reflect the interaction between farmer, potter, and politics on a local scale and also reflect interaction between different cultures along a broader economic network. These two scales of interaction fluctuate as historical and environmental events alter political regimes, population sizes, and interaction with distant lands. Detailed distributions of amphoras, and especially their specific find contexts, provide an insight into their relative value within the culturally specific deposition context. For example, the juxtaposition of find contexts of amphoras from Crete suggests that they were differentially valued by people around the Eastern Mediterranean: on Cyprus, they are often found in tombs, yet on the Greek mainland they are predominantly in basement storerooms. Identifying specifically commercial exchange through the archaeological record must be determined through careful study of distribution patterns, both within a site and within the extent of the object’s geographical spread (Dillian and White 2010, 7). For example, amphoras imported into a specific site from a neighboring region and only located within the storerooms of a central building could be interpreted as a type of tribute or contribution. If, however, the same amphoras are found throughout many regions and even across large bodies of water, then the transaction could be interpreted as one of commercial trade. This book presents a detailed analysis of the available data for bulk olive oil and wine trade for each time period addressed. Each chapter focuses on the

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particular pots used at that time and how their production and distribution reflect the broader entanglement. Indeed, Knappett (in Bevan 2014, 406–407) suggests that the amphora as a transport container does not have a “boom-andbust” trajectory, but instead has “dynamic stability.” As a ceramic type, it never quite goes away, it only changes shape. And in this way, the amphora can be considered a “fluid” technology whereby it can be “invented” in multiple places at the same time because clay is ubiquitous, amphoras are durable, and they are portable. This dynamic stability of the amphora in pre-Classical Greece is something that this book will focus on as a way of seeing the connections between historical eras. Indeed, it is the continuity and fluidity not only of amphoras but also of their liquid contents, which present a unique case for studying past entanglements between things, humans, and their sociocultural and environmental contexts. CONSIDERING CLIMATE CHANGE: VULNERABILITY, RESILIENCE, AND ADAPTATION

It is an incontrovertible fact that the environment actively influences interactions between people and the things around them. Factors like rainfall, seasonality, aridity, groundwater availability, temperature maximums and minimums, UV index, CO2 levels, extreme weather events, and more all take part in providing parameters within which certain plants and animals can thrive, or not. Moreover, when one or more of these environmental characteristics change, established relationships, say between people and cultivated plants, can be altered substantially as the ecosystem adapts to survive and, preferably, thrive in the new normal conditions. Climatic change is not so much an event, but rather a continuously active process. The changes only become more noticeable when conditions negatively affect, or at least disrupt, the status quo. This is certainly the case today as the world faces impactful climate change, but it was also the case in the ancient past. Studies of past climate change tend to focus on glacial/interglacial shifts, with the Holocene only briefly mentioned as an afterthought at the end. Recently, however, there has been a shift in focus to understand the more nuanced climate shifts of, especially, the middle and late Holocene when anthropogenic forces have been at their greatest. Researchers are now keen to answer questions about the relationship of man to his environment and the specific connections between climate change and social change. In what specific ways did climate change impact how people interact with their natural surroundings and with each other? Indeed, there has been a call-to-action for archaeologists to not only include considerations of climate and environment within their interpretations, but to also actively investigate climate change as one of the many factors that influenced past lives and social changes (Izdebski et al. 2016, 12).

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In the following pages, I outline a methodology for including palaeoclimatic data into a broader discussion of the long-term entanglements between people and oil/wine. This is followed by a brief overview of the various methodological issues with using these data, such as the incompatibility of proxy-based sources, regionality, micro-climate variability, and discrepancies in interpretation. Then, in order to provide a foundation upon which the chapter discussions will be based, I present these palaeoclimatic data and arguments around climate change set out across the whole chronological framework used in this book. Finally, climatic changes are only relevant if they affect the two plants in question. The evidence for olive tree and grapevine responses to different climatic changes will therefore be presented and analyzed in relation to the previously outlined reconstruction of climate change from the Bronze Age to the Classical period in Greece.

A Historical Ecology Approach: Methodologies and Implications To consider the impact of climate change on the entanglements between people and oil and wine over time, I develop a narrative of coupled socialecological change within the frameworks of resilience and adaptation. I do not, however, assume links between climatic and social changes, but rather aim to identify possible connections between these changes and consider possible adaptation responses. These narratives should therefore be considered hypotheses that require further testing (Clarke et al. 2016, 99–100; Weiberg et al. 2016). Looking at general sociopolitical and climate variability trends alongside each other allows one to look for features of the society that factored into its level of vulnerability in the face of both short-term climate variability and longterm climate change and its ability to effectively adapt and thrive, or not, afterward (Nelson et al. 2016; Weiberg and Finné 2018, 593–594). I therefore take a historical ecology approach (Armstrong et al. 2017) that has four main methodological components: (1) a long-term perspective, (2) spatialtemporal resonance between palaeoclimate and societal data, (3) an assessment of the relative resiliency of a society within the context of climate variability and change, and (4) a focus on archaeological evidence indicating climateinduced responses. (1) The long-term perspective of historical ecology encompasses not only the past, but also the future. It is an applied research program that seeks to understand longterm human–environmental interactions with a focus on avoiding, mitigating, and reversing adverse ecological effects in the future (Armstrong et al. 2017). The majority of this book is dedicated to exploring past relationships between humans and their natural environment over a long-term period of about 1,500 years. In the Conclusion of the book, the patterns of adaptation and change that are visible during

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this time period are then analyzed with a view to the future of agriculture in Greece. The long-term perspective of historical ecology comes with a few caveats and methodological issues that must be addressed. In order to move beyond focusing on climate/environmental “events” and instead focus on long-term humanenvironmental processes, it is necessary to consider chronological and dating uncertainties and inconsistencies. Both archaeological and climatological chronologies are uncertain and subject to debate on their own. Trying to correlate the two becomes even more difficult, making very high-resolution correlations problematic (e.g., trying to associate a specific climate anomaly with a social disruption; Finné and Weiberg 2018). Taking a long-term view of these two processes, social and environmental, allows one to see connections that would not be visible with a short-term perspective. For example, Chapter 4 will explore how climate change might have affected the relationships between social structure and agriculture. Specifically, while an arid climate might not have directly caused negative societal change, beneficial climate conditions might have been favorable in the relative short term while at the same time supporting an ultimately unstable economy that proved detrimental in the long term (Weiberg and Finné 2018). (2) To effectively discuss long-term social and climatic trajectories, spatial-temporal resonance between palaeoclimate and societal data is necessary.30 In terms of methodology, it is important to try to use proxy data whose time- and spatial-scales match the cultural-historical questions one is trying to answer. When focusing on a small spatial scale or region, say Messenia (southwest Peloponnese), one should use local proxy data (cave speleothems and lake cores). When asking questions about a larger region, for example, Peloponnese, one should also integrate other proxy data from other areas of that region. And, finally, if asking questions about a broader region, for example, southern or northern Aegean, it is important to find correspondences among many proxy data and not rely on a single piece of evidence for the characteristics of the climate at a given time.31

Timescales are becoming increasingly coherent and precise as better palaeoclimatic proxy data are integrated into climate reconstructions. Cave speleothems from the southern Argolid have been argued convincingly to represent the climatic patterns of the Peloponnese in general (Finné and Weiberg 2018; Weiberg and Finné 2018). Moreover, those same speleothems have generated proxy data that can be measured within a single generation and with a low margin of error. The same is true for cave speleothem data from northern Greece. Moreover, when one integrates or compares the highresolution speleothem data with other climate proxy data, it is possible to see even closer resolution and smaller-scale microclimatic differences. Each type of proxy evidence has its own challenges and advantages, discussed later. The benefit of an integrated approach is that one can see patterns across multiple proxy data that might not be apparent otherwise.

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As palaeoclimatic proxy data generate more precise timescales, it is possible to produce more accurate resonance between the palaeoclimatic and social/ archaeological data. A temporal arrangement in presenting palaeoclimatic and archaeological data achieves the highest consensus between archaeologists and palaeoclimatologists. It is important to consider the scale by which one measures time. Measurements of time to be used cannot be too coarse (e.g., Early or Late Holocene) or else they will not reflect cultural changes. Nor can they be too brief (e.g., Late Helladic IIIA, Late Helladic IIIB) or they will not capture long-term climatic developments. When discussing the role of environmental and climatic change on the relationships between people and oil/wine, this book adopts the suggestion by Weiberg and colleagues (2016) that it is best to discuss both the archaeological and palaeoenvironmental records according to the cultural periods of southern Greece and Crete: Protopalatial, Neopalatial, Late Helladic/ Mycenaean, EIA, Archaic, Classical. This timescale provides a level of detail necessary to see patterns in both datasets, and can also overcome issues related to specific chronological inconsistencies.32 A discussion of palaeoclimate is therefore provided in each chapter to accompany those periods of time. (3) It is becoming increasingly apparent that the relationship between social and environmental change is not solely dependent on the scale and duration of the climatic event, but the capability of the society to react and adapt to the change (Nelson et al. 2016 with bibliography). In a historical ecology approach, therefore, it is essential to assess the relative resiliency of a society within the context of climate variability and change. Climate data can then be used as one of many factors in the overall resiliency of a society. For example, even if climate change did not directly affect the production of olives and grapes in the ancient Greek world, it would have affected the networks within which they were produced, especially in surplus. Tracing a society’s resilience in the face of both short- and long-term climate changes will provide insights into the resiliency or vulnerability of agricultural strategies and practices. Nelson and colleagues (2016) developed a methodology for quantifying the “load” of a society’s vulnerability to climate change-induced food shortage, specifically, using eight variables that can be archaeologically visible (availability of food, diversity of available food, resource depression, connections, storage, mobility, equal access, and barriers to resource areas; Table 1.1). These variables are related to (1) the availability of food relative to population size and (2) social institutions and practices (access to food). Among their diverse, historical, case studies, it became clear that two social domain variables – connections and mobility – contributed more to the vulnerability load than any other variables. In contrast, lack of an adequate food supply rarely contributed much to vulnerability. They noted that after a climate event, some cases had significant social change, but no food shortage, while very few cases experienced no social change. Factors contributing to social change without food shortage included emigration after the climate change, which reduced the

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table 1.1 Variables related to the vulnerability of a society due to climate change-induced food shortage.

Variable

Evidence (archaeological/historical)

Value for resilient food systems

Availability of food

Insufficient calories or Balance of available resources and population nutrients in humans/animals size reduces risk of shortfall Diversity of Inadequate range of resources Diverse portfolio reduces risk, increases available, responsive to varied options accessible food conditions Resource Depleted or degraded Healthy habitats contribute to managing risk depression/health resources/habitats and change of food resources Connections Limited connections with Social networks expand access to food and land others experiencing and are sources for risk pooling different conditions Storage Insufficient, inaccessible Stored foods reduce risk in times of shortage storage Mobility Inability to move away from Movement to alternative places, landscapes, challenging food conditions and social groups offers potential for addressing resource shortfall through access to food/land Equal access Unequal control and Equal access avoids challenges to coping and distribution of land, water, adaptive capacity in disaster risk and food resources management Barriers to resource Physical barriers limiting access Lack of barriers enhances capability of people areas to key resource areas to provision themselves with food After Nelson et al. 2016, table 2.

local population to a level that avoided food problems but had dramatic impacts socially. Other populations shifted their diet by focusing on a more abundant resource. This tactic, however, was not sustainable in the long run. Overall, they found that those cases with the highest vulnerability load all had evidence of food shortage. Methodologically, therefore, this book will take into consideration the variables outlined by Nelson et al. (2016) to examine the vulnerability of ancient Greek societies in the face of specific climate changes occurring for each time period addressed in the chapters. (4) Finally, a historical ecology approach must consider the perception of climate change in the past. What would people have noticed? Do we have archaeological evidence that climate change affected agriculture or changed behaviors in the short term? Methodologically, this means focusing on archaeological evidence indicating climate-induced responses. Responses, however, should be divided into two categories: (1) reactions to sudden, short-term climate variability and (2) adaptations to long-term climate change. It has been argued that short-term weather variability impacted past peoples’ ways of life, but that long-term climate change did not elicit actions (Weiberg and Finné 2018, 589). Yet, while people might not have consciously

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“acted” on long-term climate change, they might have adapted their ways of doing things over the long-term such that the change had an effect, nevertheless. In some cases, the short-term reactions might have persisted eventually becoming long-term adaptations. It has been suggested that since premodern agrarian strategies were, for the most part and in different ways, geared toward resilience in the face of short-term fluctuations, there might have been a certain amount of built-in resilience to longer-term climatic changes. However, this resilience over the long-term might have meant that practices that had been emergency measures or short-term reactions became normalized.33 Certainly, this could have been the case in social situations where agriculturists were free to practice resilient strategies, such as polyculture and planting environmentally appropriate species. It has been shown, however, that in times when ancient societies practiced a top-down system of agriculture (regulated or dictated by social hierarchies), the effects on the local environment and local populations could be far-reaching and long-lasting (Marston 2011, 2012, 2015, 2017). This distinction between sustainable and unsustainable agricultural practices naturally ties into the discussion above of a society’s vulnerability to climate variability and change.

In an attempt to identify the relationships between people and the perception of climatic changes, reactions and adaptations that are archaeologically visible will be discussed in each chapter. Examples of reactions to short-term climate variation include evidence for water-management changes due to drought or intensification of bimodal seasonal rain (e.g., check-dams, deeper wells, water drainage systems). Adaptations to long-term climate change would happen over a longer timescale and would possibly be imperceptible to single generations. The changes nevertheless happened. An example would be a shift in dominant growing regions of grapevines to wetter areas during long-term periods of dry conditions. Overall, it is not enough to consider climate changes in parallel with social changes, trying to find links between the two. Rather, it is necessary to examine the entanglement as a whole and climate change as one factor among many that contributed to social and economic changes. Moreover, it is only possible to attempt this holistic approach using a long-term perspective because both social and environmental change happen as a result of long-term processes and factors set in motion long before the change is even visible in the archaeological or climate proxy records. This book therefore includes climate and environmental conditions as only one, yet vital, element that affected the relationships between people and oil/wine.

Methodological Complexities of Palaeoclimate Proxy Data Reconstructing past climates is a complicated, inaccurate process requiring interdisciplinary collaboration and model-based extrapolation (Knapp and

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Manning 2016). The climate of the Mediterranean basin is particularly complex due to its strategic location between major bodies of water (e.g., Atlantic Ocean, North Sea) and continental air-masses (e.g., Europe, Africa, Siberia). The result is a basin that, while having the same basic “Mediterranean” climate, is made up of regional idiosyncrasies, divided both east-west and north-south. The highly mountainous terrain of most of the land within and around the Mediterranean Sea also presents complications in the form of microclimates that tend to diverge, often dramatically, from the broader trend of the region and the basin as a whole. It is therefore necessary to pay close attention to not only the dataset itself, but also the origin of the data and whether they accurately represent the geographical area in question; here, namely Greece and the Aegean region. Past-climate variables cannot be directly measured, so information is derived through the use of proxies. A proxy can be defined as “any component of a climate archive whose origin is related to a climate variable or process and whose relationship holds for a wide variety of oceanographic and sedimentological environments and timescales” (Lionello 2012, p. xliii). The most prominent proxies for Mediterranean Holocene reconstruction are palynological (pollen) data from sediment cores, stable isotopes from sea-bed cores, and speleothem growth in caves. Each have their own methodological and interpretive issues. While pollen cores are currently the most prevalent source of data for Greece, their interpretation is complicated. When it comes to Holocene environment, human impact plays a major role and the types and quantities of pollen are often directly affected by the presence of humans in the landscape. The usefulness and reliability of pollen data as a proxy for, especially, mid- to late Holocene climate are significantly reduced due to human land use and their impact on vegetation (Finné et al. 2011, 3166). When interpreting palynological data, it is unclear whether the variations over time are due to climate fluctuations or changes in agricultural strategies, settlement organization, or a combination of these. For example, multiple cores from the Peloponnese have presented a sharp increase in olive pollen around 900 BCE that has been associated with the onset of intensive cultivation of olives (Jahns 1993, 2005; Bottema and Sarpaki 2003; Kontopoulos and Avramidis 2003; Kouli 2011). Moreover, for the Olea species in particular, although it produces large quantities of pollen, it is not yet possible to discern wild from domesticated varieties. In the case of Vitis, wild vines produce large amounts of pollen, but the domesticated version is self-pollinating, consequently producing little pollen (Hamilakis 1996, 4). Again, it is not possible to calculate the ratio of wild to domesticated plants and the existence of wild plants does not necessitate their use for oil and wine. Pollen data are therefore not as reliable for Holocene climate reconstruction, but they can provide reasonable evidence for land-use fluctuations and human–environment interaction.

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The analysis of speleothems (stalactites and stalagmites) is a more recent development in past climate change research. Speleothems are secondary CaCO3 deposits formed in caves that are generally tightly linked to precipitation regimes. Carbon isotope compositions of speleothems vary in accordance with changes in the soil vegetation and microbial activity, which in turn are controlled by temperature and precipitation (McDermott 2004). In addition, their location (in caves) means that postdepositional alteration of stratigraphy and chemical signals is uncommon (Frisia et al. 2008). They are therefore good proxy mechanisms for the environment in the immediate vicinity of the sample. In this respect, speleothems provide good indications of the local climate variability, but might not reflect more regional-scale fluctuations and can therefore present results inconsistent with samples from neighboring regions. Another common source of proxy information is deep-sea sediment cores. The relative abundance and assemblage composition of microorganisms (phytoplankton and zooplankton) provide important information of past sea-surface temperature, relative salinity, and nutrient and water-column conditions. Geochemical proxies such as stable and unstable isotopes, major and minor sediment components are also important in learning more about the dynamics of the carbon and nutrient cycles (Lionello 2012, xliv).

Climate Change from the Bronze Age to the Classical Period Despite the methodological and interpretive issues described earlier, the sheer amount of data generated over the last 30 years has made it increasingly possible to reconstruct broad patterns in climatic fluctuations in the eastern Mediterranean and Aegean more specifically. While it is certainly not the case that the whole area experienced the same conditions at the same time, some general trends seem to apply to most subregions, with a few microclimates standing out. In what follows, I attempt to outline these eastern Mediterranean and Aegean climatic patterns using up-to-date data generated by multiple, yet correlating, proxy-based sources. What follows is by no means the full extent of the available data for the past climate of the eastern Mediterranean (for overviews, see Mayewski et al. 2004; Wanner et al. 2008; Finné et al. 2011; Psomiadis et al. 2018). Instead, I focus on what is known about the broad palaeoclimatic trends of the Aegean and Greece from about 3000 to 500 BCE. Sections in individual chapters will address evidence for local and regional environmental changes that might have affected the production of surplus oil and wine. Multiple proxy sources in regions all around the eastern Mediterranean have generated data suggesting that the period from about 3000 to 2000 BCE was a generally more humid phase compared to the previous or following

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fluctuations. Speleothem data from Thasos (Psomiadis et al. 2018), Romania (Constantin et al. 2007), and Israel (Bar-Matthews et al. 1998; Bar-Matthews and Ayalon 2011) all support this era as one of increased precipitation with some give-and-take for the dating of the onset and transition. Similarly, northern Aegean sediment cores from lakes in the Thessaloniki plain (Ghilardi et al. 2012) and Lake Shkodra in Albania (Zanchetta et al. 2012; Mazzini et al. 2015) showed lake expansion until ca. 2200 BCE. This more humid trend is corroborated in the southern Aegean through deep-sea sediment cores (Triantaphyllou et al. 2009a). The end of this phase is often said to be marked by the “4.2-event” when a proposed climate anomaly, or rapid climate change, ushered in a phase of rapidly increasing aridity resulting in a multi-century drought (2250–1950 BCE; Weiss 2016). Indeed, the fall of the Akkadian state has been attributed to the 4.2 event (Weiss et al. 1993). However, this event does not appear to be so intense throughout the eastern Mediterranean. A rapid climate change is not corroborated by north Aegean speleothem data or southern Aegean sedimentary cores (Wanner et al. 2008; Finné et al. 2011; Psomiadis et al. 2018). Indeed, there is an age accuracy discrepancy by plus or minus over a century for this arid phase depending on the geographic position and proxy-type (see Psomiadis et al. 2018 for an overview of the data and relevant citations). Despite the discrepancy in timing and intensity, there does seem to be corroborating evidence from the north Aegean, Levant, and even Italy for a more arid phase between the end of the third and beginning of the second millennium BCE. The general trend from proxies around the eastern Mediterranean is an alleviation in the drier than average conditions from about 2000 to 1450 BCE with a generally benign climate (Finné et al. 2011, 3167). Within that broad trend, however, are variations in subregions. Speleothem evidence from the northern Aegean and Balkans show a pronounced arid phase around 1650–1550 BCE. Specifically, caves from Thasos (Psomiadis et al. 2018) and Turkey (Göktürk 2011) suggest a cold, dry period of around 100 years. Similar signatures have been detected in the southern Aegean (ca. 1600–1550 and ca. 1510–1440 BCE; Weiberg and Finné 2018, 589), but not the Middle East.34 Other researchers have interpreted proxy data from the southern Aegean and Crete as representing not necessarily an entirely benign climate but rather a shift to the bimodal climate currently experienced in those regions; namely, warm, dry summers and cool, wet winters (Moody 1997, 2009; Drake 2012; Flood and Soles 2014). There is a general consensus that the time period between 1450 and 850 BCE was one of drier, and generally harsher, conditions, although there is much inter-variability superimposed upon this general pattern, for example between the Aegean region and the Levant. This variability could be explained by strong

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Siberian highs with cool air flowing in over the Aegean leading to cooler, drier climatic conditions in this region, while wetter conditions persist in parts of the Levant and a warming trend is apparent for the Adriatic region (Rohling et al. 2002; Mayewski et al. 2004; Finné et al. 2011, 3167; Brooke 2014, 301). Climatic fluctuations for the period 1450–850 BCE could also be tentatively viewed from the perspective of the low solar activity that in northwestern Europe yielded wetter, cooler climatic conditions centered around 850 BCE (Chambers et al. 2007, 2010). Mayewski et al. (2004) suggest that this time period was characterized by rapid climate change. For the Aegean, regional studies suggest this rapid climate change was centered around ca. 1050 BCE when a further cooling occurred (Mayewski et al. 2004; Weninger et al. 2009; Finné et al. 2011, 3163). This broad time period in particular highlights the influence of microclimates on the magnitude of change. On Crete, Tsonis et al. (2010) suggest that the long-lasting dominance of El Niño after 1450 BCE until around 1200 BCE affected Crete more than other places of the Eastern Aegean, as attested by the disappearance of more water-hungry plant species, such as Tilia.35 For the Peloponnese, speleothem records suggest extremely dry conditions around 1130–1000 BCE when the stalagmite stopped growing (Weiberg and Finné 2018, 589). In contrast, proxy data from the north Aegean region suggests that this same era, 1450–750 BCE, was characterized by constant wetter conditions. Speleothem records from Thasos and Romania suggest a peak in humidity at 1350 and 1250 BCE (Onac et al. 2002; Psomiadis et al. 2018). Interestingly, while humidity levels remain high, temperature levels drop around 1050 BCE and rapid cooling is inferred not only from the same cave records, but also from marine records off the Adriatic coast.36 To the east, Turkey, the Middle East, the Near East, and the Arabian Peninsula shift to more pronounced arid conditions at around 1050 BCE, as indicated by the falling levels of the Dead Sea, and by pollen data from sites such as Gibala-Tell Tweini, Diktili Tash, and Troy.37 The gap in settlement at Troy from 1050 to 980 BCE has been connected to a rapid climate change event that brought “stochastic outbreak” of cold and fast-flowing air masses into the Aegean basin, with a source in Siberia. These cold air masses would result in a series of unusually cold and dry winters and springs. Weninger et al. (2009, 46) hypothesize that local farming communities in the northern Aegean would have experienced repeated and devastating crop failures, often in consecutive years, for at least three decades and perhaps twice as long. They further speculate the development of “rapid climate change-downwind habitattracking,” in this case from the Black Sea region into the Troad. Around 850 BCE, there is evidence for further cooling in some regions. A wetter and cooler climatic situation in northwestern Europe is hypothesized as being connected with reduced solar activity (Chambers et al. 2007, 2010;

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Usoskin et al. 2007; Steinhilber et al. 2009). This minimum in solar insolation was the lowest since 2900 BCE and has been termed the “Homeric Minimum” (Brooke 2014, 301). A cooling event is also interpreted from proxy sources in cores from the Ionian Sea (Finné et al. 2011, 3163). Proxy evidence suggests that after the “Homeric Low” during the eighth century there would have been a significant recovery from this “Preclassical global crisis” as temperatures warmed (due to the fading Siberian High around 750 BCE) and precipitation increased (Manning 2013, 113–114).38

The Effect of Climate Change on Olive Trees and Grapevines: Past and Present The climatic narrative constructed earlier would only play a major role in the broader context of this book if the fluctuations described affected the ways in which people interacted with olive trees and grapevines. In other words, the recorded changes in aridity and temperature must have had an impact on the growth and fruit production of these two plants for there to be any meaningful implications for the cultural history of olive oil and wine from the Bronze Age to the Archaic period in Greece. In what follows, I outline how olive trees and grapevines are in fact very sensitive to climate change both today and in the past. Scientific evidence for the ways in which both plants react and adapt to various types of climate change (e.g., increase/decrease in temperature and precipitation) is presented. This is supplemented by a discussion of historical accounts of these same types of reactions and adaptations, thereby connecting modern observations to past events (e.g., the Medieval Climate Anomaly and Little Ice Age). Finally, evidence is presented that suggests it is indeed possible to apply the data and interpretations described for the modern and premodern period to the time frame addressed in this book. In other words, modern and historical evidence for the effects of climate change on olive trees and grapevines can help reconstruct how these plants coped with the climatic fluctuations described in the previous section. Olive Trees and Grapevines as Sensitive Indicators of Climate Change. Both grapevines and olive trees are often thought to be hardy plants, surviving in various climatic conditions. On the one hand, olive trees are perceived as living in xeric conditions and relatively poor soils. Grapevines, on the other hand, are perceived as capable of surviving in relatively warm or cool temperatures (e.g., Argentina vs. southern Ontario, Canada, where ice wine is a delicacy; Shaw 2005). In both cases, these perceptions are in some way true, but come with many caveats and footnotes. While olive trees are adaptable to dry spells and drought and can attain acceptable (but not flourishing) yields under dry farming, they are very sensitive to longer periods of freezing and, although resistant to water shortage, produce best with high

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rainfall or with irrigation (Palomo et al. 2002; Tanasijevic 2014). Studies of old, traditional olive production systems in dry-farmed (rain-fed) areas around the Mediterranean provide our best analogies for ancient olive cultivation.39 In general, the number of trees per hectare is very low (8–18 m apart; 30–156 trees/h), their yields are very low (0.5–4 trees/h), with a long delay before full production (15–40 years) and severe alternate bearing. In these conditions, harvesting of trees is inefficient and expensive because it is almost always done by hand or by beating the fruit off with long poles onto nets (Civantos 2001; Rallo et al. 2005; Vossen 2013). These characteristics of traditional olive cultivation would have exacerbated any impacts caused by climatic changes. Trees remain premature for a long period of time and would have been more susceptible to deterioration because of water stress or freezing. Moreover, severe alternate bearing (that the trees produce fruit only every-other year) would result in a long gap in full production (upward of 10 years or more) if a multiyear drought occurred. The perception of grapevine flexibility is countered by the fact that wine production occurs over narrow geographical and climatic ranges with some varieties having an extremely small climatic niche (pinot noir, e.g., has an approximate 2°C niche; Jones and Webb 2010). One might want to suggest that certain varieties of grape are more suited to different climatic conditions. However, as of right now, there is no evidence that there were different varieties of grapevine in ancient Greece and Crete: all were Vitis vinifera, with wild progenitor Vitis silvestris. The varieties we have today have been developed in much more recent times. Although Classical and Roman literature recognizes different types of wine in different areas, it is unclear if this refers to specific grape varieties, that is, different genetic variations of grapevine, or simply different types of wine and their flavors. Only DNA analysis of seeds that are well preserved (i.e., fresh remains or water logged) will reveal this (Hansen 2002, 75). Like traditionally grown olive trees, aspects of traditional grapevine cultivation can exacerbate any climatic problems. Although they do not take quite as long to mature as olive trees, grapevines can take as much as 10 years and more to produce a significant crop (Palmer 1994, 14 note 19; Sarpaki 2012, 214). As discussed subsequently, each phase in the life cycle of both olive trees and grapevines is sensitive to climate in one way or another such that even slight changes could affect how the plant grows, flowers, produces fruit, or lays dormant. Because of these many sensitivities to climate, both plants have been selected by scientists as “sensible indicators” or the “best bio-indicators” of climate change for the Mediterranean basin (Moriondo et al. 2008, 2013; Schultz and Jones 2010; Hannah et al. 2013, 6907). Consequently, much research has been undertaken in recent years to understand exactly how both olive trees and grapevines react to different types of climate change. Although

CONSIDERING C LIMATE CHAN GE

many environmental factors contribute to the survival and thriving of olive trees and grapevines, most studies focus on temperature and precipitation as two of the most dominant and more measurable climatic forces. Increased Temperature: Effects and Adaptations. Because, in general, the Mediterranean is currently facing increasing temperatures and decreasing rainfall, most scientific analyses of the effects of climate change on olive trees and grapevines focus on those variables. In general, olive trees are more reproductively sensitive than physiologically sensitive to climate change. That is, they will survive, but not reproduce well or make fruit well. The quality of fruit is mainly dependent on the tree’s flowering phenology. During the winter months, olive trees have minimum chilling requirements. If temperature increases too much, those requirements might not be met, thereby limiting the following growth period. Olive flowering begins when days get longer and warmer during springtime (Garcia-Mozo et al. 2009). Increased temperatures force flowering to start earlier for a shorter amount of time, ultimately affecting the quantity and quality of fruit produced in the following months (Avolio et al. 2012). Increased heat and UV-B rays have a particularly strong effect on pollen germination, which decreases by 20–39 percent, and tube length, which decreases by 11–44 percent. These changes could have serious implications for olive yields, especially for low fruit-setting cultivars or in years and environments with additional unfavorable conditions (Koubouris et al. 2015). As with olive cultivation, grapevine cultivation can be significantly impacted by overall increases in temperature. The type of impact is entirely dependent on regional location. Warming in cool climate regions could lead to more consistent vintage quality, aiding the successful cultivation of grapevines. Other regions with a warmer growing season, however, might become too warm for the existing varieties to produce good-quality wine or survive at all. Likewise, winter changes due to increasing temperatures could affect viticulture. Regions with hard winter freezes would become less prone to vine damage, whereas regions that already have mild winters might move beyond the threshold for necessary cooling that allows latent bud hardening and reduction of pests (Jones et al. 2005, 339). During the growing season, increased temperatures can affect grape quality and viability. Prolonged temperatures above 10°C initiate spring vegetative growth and determine the start of the growing season. During flowering and the growth of berries, extremes of heat can cause premature véraison (change of color and start of the accumulation of sugars), high grape mortality through abscission, enzyme inactivation, and partial or total failure of flavor ripening. During the maturation stage, a high diurnal temperature range leads to the beneficial synthesis of grape tannins, sugars, and flavors (Jones et al. 2005, 320–321). Earlier and shorter berry-ripening time would result in an

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INTRODUCTION

earlier harvest, likely producing desiccated fruit and a reduction in the final yield (Jones et al. 2005, 339; Moriondo 2010).40 Both olive trees and grapevines react to increased temperature with adaptive responses. When combined with agricultural strategies employed by the humans that tend to these plants, the adverse effects can be mitigated. Left to their own devices, if climate shifts toward increasing temperatures for a long period of time (decades or centuries, i.e., not an isolated event), both olive trees and grapevines will shift growing regions toward the north and higher elevations. For example, current projections for upcoming increases in temperature by an average of 1°C in the Mediterranean will decrease area suitable for viticulture by 25–73 percent in major wine producing regions within 30 years (Hannah et al. 2013). This trend should result in the establishment of vineyards at higher elevations and higher latitudes. This adaptation has been shown to have occurred during the Medieval Climate Anomaly when grape cultivation extended to northern Germany, England, and Poland, which indicated relatively warm temperatures (Gladstones 1992). At the same time, when mild winters became normal, olives were cultivated in northern Italy where today they are no longer present (Pfister et al. 1998). From the tenth to fourteenth centuries AD, olives were cultivated along the northern limits of the Apennines and the southern limits of the Alpine region. Humans can further contribute to successful cultivation by changing management practices like pruning, fruit thinning, green tipping, leaf removal, and fertilization. Increases in irrigation and sprinkling or misting the vines help cool the grapes. Decreased Temperature: Effects and Adaptations. An overall decrease in temperature would essentially result in the opposite effects and adaptions described earlier. Olive trees are a warm climate evergreen plant that requires a relatively high temperature threshold. Zero degrees Celsius is considered the minimum temperature under which the physiological activities of the tree are completely blocked. Under negative 5°C, serious problems have been reported for olive leaves due to freezing (Tjamos et al. 1993). For the growth period, the base temperature in Mediterranean orchards is around 7°C. This threshold would be reached later in a cooler climate, resulting in a shorter growth period. Of course, regional climatic variation plays a major role. Lower temperatures would mean that some areas that were once too hot for olive trees might become viable, while other areas that were at the limit of winter freezing temperatures would no longer support olive tree cultivation. Grapevines are more tolerant of freezing temperatures than olive trees, but they too have limits. Currently for continental Eastern Europe, the grapevine has a limit of negative 1℃ for a January average (Schultz and Jones 2010, 138).

CONSIDERING C LIMATE CHAN GE

In terms of adaptive strategies, decreasing temperatures would require a gradual shift of growing areas toward the south and lower elevations. Historical records and palynological data from the “Little Ice Age,” ca. AD 1400–1900, present evidence for such shifts in cultivation of olive trees and grapevines. During this period, olive groves were affected by severe winter temperatures throughout the Mediterranean basin resulting in the progressive shrinking of olive cultivation. Olives ceased being cultivated in the Mediterranean French Alps, Languedoc (possibly due to eight severe frost events between AD 1565 and 1624), and the left bank of the river Rhone where they had been cultivated from the sixteenth century (Moriondo et al. 2013, 825). Other regions in the northern limits of olive cultivation in France replaced the olive with grapevines or mulberry trees, both of which could withstand the colder winters. In northern Italy on the central and western sides of the southern Po Plain olive trees were irreversibly damaged, essentially eliminating olive cultivation in this area. Likewise, cultivation of the olive in eastern Spain generally decreased between ca. AD 1500 and 1600 due to the long-lasting cooler temperatures (Moriondo et al. 2013, 826). The Little Ice Age also affected the northern limits of vine cultivation. Specifically, large grape growing areas in Central Europe were abandoned and replaced by an extension into Southern Europe (Gladstones 1992). Increased Humidity: Effects and Adaptations. Precipitation fluctuations associated with climate change can also affect olive trees and grapevines. Like temperature, precipitation increase can be beneficial or detrimental depending on the regional climate. Grapevines are generally more tolerant of increased humidity. Too much rainfall, however, can have a detrimental effect by rotting the roots or berries. Excessive rainfall during harvest season is also considered a critical weather-risk factor for viticulture (Jones and Webb 2010, 105). Olive trees are particularly sensitive to an overabundance of water since they rely on dry growing season conditions that assure fruit pollination, fruit set, a minimum of foliar diseases, and the development of typical fruit characteristics (Vossen 2013). Several studies on mature orchards have shown that the greatest efficiency of water use is at approximately 40–70 percent of full evapotranspiration demand. When water is applied beyond this level, growth and production are only slightly improved (Lavee and Wodner 2004; Grattan et al. 2006; Vossen 2013, 46). During processing, oil is easier to extract from low-moisture fruit and more difficult to extract from fruit that has been over-irrigated or has received rain before harvest, or if the fruit is washed or wet just prior to crushing. In regions that are toward the dryer end of olive cultivation limits, increased rainfall could dramatically increase fruit yield and result in greater shoot growth, and trunk diameter (Vossen 2013, 45).

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INTRODUCTION

Historically, there is some evidence to support the olive’s sensitivity to humidity. Climatic proxy data suggests that before 150 BCE, the western Mediterranean was generally more humid than the eastern (discussed earlier). This trend resulted in a limited cultivation of olive in southern Italy where it may have initially been too wet for olive cultivation, as corroborated by a low diffusion of Olea pollen in Apulia, Campania, and Basilicata from ca. 500 BCE to 500 CE (Moriondo et al. 2013, 825). In contrast, Bronze Age signatures suggest olive pollen is well represented (Di Rita and Magri 2009). During the Little Ice Age, when conditions generally became cooler and wetter, some regions saw an increase in olive cultivation. For example, in Andalusia where water is usually the limiting factor for crop cultivation there is evidence for an increase in olive production (Moriondo et al. 2013, 826). In contrast, other regions became too cold and wet to support olive growth. For example, olives were not cultivated north of Thessaly in Greece, even though they are today (Moriondo et al. 2013, 827, fig. 4; 828, fig. 6). That grapevines were less affected by the wetter conditions of the Little Ice Age is perhaps indicated by the fact that the price for olive oil increased exponentially in Italy and France, but wine prices remained relatively low and stable (Moriondo et al. 2013, 826, fig. 3). Increased Aridity: Effects and Adaptations. Rainfall decrease associated with climate change has the potential to significantly alter the way olives and grapes are grown. Increased dryness can be more easily mitigated if one has access to irrigation, but many farmers today and certainly in the past rely solely on rain-fed agriculture. Although olive trees are particularly good at tolerating dry conditions, drought stress can limit shoot growth and next season’s cropping potential plus fruit size and olive production (Vossen 2013). Specifically, drought stress in the spring growing season, when cell division and initial mesocarp cells are forming, is regarded as the most detrimental to fruit size and oil accumulation. Additionally, alternate bearing (producing fruit every 2 years) is worsened when there is an intense competition for water. Studies have suggested that applying almost any amount less than 40 percent of full evapotranspiration demand as supplemental irrigation can have a significant effect on growth, fruit production, and total oil yield (Lavee and Wodner 2004; Grattan et al. 2006; Vossen 2013, 46). Irrigation that relieves drought stress can significantly increase fruit oil content along with overall fruit yield. Drought-stressed trees tend to mature their fruit earlier than irrigated trees (Vossen 2013). During shorter-term drought events, rain-fed trees adjust structurally and functionally by producing more vessels with lower diameter to prevent cavitation and limit wood formation during droughts (Rossi et al. 2013).

CONSIDERING C LIMATE CHAN GE

These adaptations, however, would prove futile in situations of long-term climate change. Eventually, the best response is to shift growing locations toward wetter regions. Historically, this trend can be illustrated by regions traditionally too wet for olive trees showing increased cultivation, while regions that are traditionally dry lost the ability to cultivate olive trees. Southern Italy, an area that was too wet for olives before 150 BCE, saw more olive cultivation during the following Medieval Climate Anomaly. A simultaneous increase in evergreens in Campania and Basilicata suggests a climate-driven process (Moriondo et al. 2013, 825). In contrast, Andalusia, a typically dry area, saw increased drought episodes, which resulted in a marked decrease in olive cultivation. In addition, there is evidence that in typically humid regions, olive groves expanded during the thirteenth century dry period at the expense of vineyards. That this was related to climatic change and not anthropogenic decisions is indicated by local decreases in deciduous trees and lower lake water levels. This trend has been confirmed along both the Catalan coast and the French Mediterranean coast (Moriondo et al. 2013, 825 with references). The modern scientific studies and historical cases presented here suggest that not only are olive trees and grapevines affected by climate change, but it is also possible to reasonably predict what types of effects and adaptions one could expect for specific climatic shifts, both in the future and for the past. Although the precise changes to climate in the time period covered in this book are unclear, we are nevertheless capable of seeing relative changes through proxy evidence, as presented earlier. That is, we are not able to reconstruct with any certainty that around 1200 BCE the temperature decreased by 3°C. But it is possible to see gradual shifts between warm and cool or wet and dry conditions happening over decades or centuries. At the same time, it can be argued that knowing the exact number of degrees increase in temperature or centimeters of rainfall is not necessary in order to predict the general effects to and adaptation by olive trees, grapevines, and the people that tend to them. For example, if the temperature even changed by a single degree Celsius, it is clear, based on data and models of the recent past, current, and future scenarios, that olive and vine cultivation would have been affected. If a single degree average increase (0.8–2.3 range) over the Mediterranean basin (with some regions experiencing much higher-magnitude changes) could shift growing areas by as much as 25 percent northward and to higher elevations, we should not expect anything less for the ancient past (Tanasijevic et al. 2014). When commenting on the potential impact of climate change during the time periods addressed in this book, I will often refer back to the data and examples presented here to see any possible correlations with trends visible in the archaeological record. Although there are significant complications in reconstructing past climate changes and their effects at specific times in specific places and to specific plants, it is nevertheless an important effort to undertake in order to gain a holistic view

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of the connections between people and the active environment with which they maintained intense relationships. THE STRUCTURE OF THE BOOK

The historical problem of olive oil’s and wine’s importance to pre-Classical Greek societies lies at the heart of the present work. The next five chapters trace the dynamic entanglement between people and oil/wine through the production and exchange of those two commodities from the Minoan and Mycenaean palatial eras to the Early Iron Age and Archaic period. Olive oil and wine were central aspects of political, religious, and household life. As critical features within the Greek cultural milieu, oil and wine reflect the broader story of Greek cultural history as it fluctuated between eras represented by centralization and interconnectedness versus decentralization and relative isolation. It is therefore essential to take a historical approach in order to gain a full outlook over the changing roles of oil and wine within their specific, yet dynamic, cultural context. It is the full picture across the entire entanglement at a specific time, from production strategies to different modes of exchange, that allows a clearer understanding of the dependencies between people and oil/wine, as well as the specific construction of their relative values. It is not enough to focus on the changing roles of oil and wine within a particular exchange mode, such as commensal events. Rather, it is necessary to see patterns of change as they unfold across multiple exchange modes and in connection with production strategies. Moreover, these patterns only make sense if understood within their historically specific cultural and environmental context. By taking this approach, readers will gain a holistic view of oil and wine during a given time period in Greek history at the same time that the long-term story can be appreciated. Additionally, readers interested in a particular time period, as is often the case for most specializations, will find this book accommodating. For these reasons the chapters of this book are organized chronologically. The central goal of the book is to trace how and why olive oil and wine became integral components of ancient Greek life. This can be done by examining how the relationship between people and these two commodities changed from the Bronze Age to the Archaic period and whether the relative value of oil and wine remained consistently high. It is the many relationships of dependency that determine the broad characteristics of the entanglement, as discussed earlier. Therefore, tracing changes in dependency relationships will provide meaningful correlates for shifts in the overall entanglement. Alterations to relationships of dependency can be seen through a holistic view of the patterns produced across all relationships as social and environmental context shifts over time. These patterns, in turn, can be viewed in the archaeological record through changes in networks of people and things. Tracing changes in entanglement between people and oil/wine therefore relies

THE STR UCTURE OF THE BOOK

on the consideration of the changing socioeconomic context of oil and wine production and exchange, including the alteration of specific groups of actors involved. For example, the relationships between farmers, potters, and central authorities changed significantly from the Minoan palatial era to the Mycenaean palatial era. Changes to these networks of people and things can be traced through the archaeological record, expressed as, for example, production strategies of specialized pots (increased volume of production and standardization), records of land transactions (increase in palatial concern for control of land), and centralized storage facilities (continued construction of large storage magazines). Taken together, these patterns in the archaeological material ultimately represent meaningful changes to entanglements that can be traced over time. In this case, the relationships of dependency governing oil and wine production and exchange increased in intensity from the Minoan palatial era as Mycenaean central authorities exercised more control over the cultivation of land, the production of transport containers, and surplus storage. Since, within a cultural economy paradigm, value is constructed at the moment of exchange, tracing the value of olive oil and wine over time requires a holistic view of their use within prominent modes of exchange. That is, their value at a given time is expressed as the general trends across different exchange modes; broad patterns affecting commensal, gift, and commercial exchange. Changes across different exchange modes can be viewed through changes across different exchange contexts where oil and wine are prominent features: feasts, funerary gifts, ritual practices, and commodity distribution. Changes to these exchange contexts are revealed through patterns in the archaeological record. For example, different dining wares and architectural settings for commensal events; alterations to number and type of grave goods and ritual offerings for gifting practices; and amphora distributions for commodity distributions. The place of oil and wine within a particular regime of value can also be detected when compared to their place in a neighboring regime of value. That is, when oil and wine are exchanged outside of the Greek cultural milieu, or between different regions within the Aegean, the patterns of shared (or not) practices as expressed through proxy archaeological data, as outlined previously, will reveal similarities and differences in the value of these two commodities. For example, the absence of Cretan transport stirrup jars, once used to haul large quantities of oil or wine in the Late Bronze Age, in mainland graves stands in stark contrast to their frequent occurrence in contemporary Cretan graves. This pattern, when taken into consideration alongside other contemporary trends in the remnants of exchange modes reveals, through comparison, how these two regions differentially viewed the value of these containers, and by proxy, their contents. Each chapter takes as its topic a particular period in Greek prehistory: the Minoan palatial era, Mycenaean palatial era, Postpalatial era, Early Iron Age, and early Archaic period (see Table 1.2).41 In order to present clearly the data on which

39

40 table 1.2 Chronological table for time periods mentioned in this book Crete

Dates BC

Mainland

Dates BC

3100–2650

Early Helladic (EH) I

3100+ to 3000

EM IIA

2650–2450/00

EH II

2650–2500

EM IIB

2450/00–2200

Later EH II

2500–2200

2200–2100/2050

EH III

2250–2100/2050

2100/2050–1925/00

Middle Helladic (MH) I

2100/2050–1950/ 1900

1925/00–1875/50

MH II

1950/1900-1800 1800-1700/1675

1875/50–1750/00

MH III

Early Minoan (EM) I

EM III

Early Pre-palatial Period

Late Pre-palatial Period

Middle Minoan (MM) IA MM IB MM II MM III Late Minoan (LM) IA

Protopalatial Period (Old Palace Period) Neopalatial Period (New Palace Period)

LM IB

1750/00–1700/1675 1700/1675–1625/00

Late Helladic (LH) I

1625/00–1470/60

LH IIA

1700/1675–1635/ 00 Mycenaean Palatial Period

1635/00–1480/70

LM II

Monopalatial Period

1470/60–1420/10

LH IIB

LM IIIA1-2

Final Palatial Period

1420/10–1330/15

LH IIIA1–2

1420/10–1330/15

1330/15–1200/1190

LH IIIB

1330/15–1200/ 1190

LM IIIB

1480/70–1420/10

(continued)

LM IIIC (early, middle, late)

Postpalatial Period

1200/1190–1075/50

LH IIIC (early, middle, late)

Postpalatial Period

1200/1190–1075/ 50

Subminoan

Early Iron Age

1075/50–970

Protogeometric (early, middle, late)

Early Iron Age

1075/50–900

Protogeometric (middle, late)/ Protogeometric B

970–810

Early Geometric (I and II)

900–850/840

Early and Middle Geometric

810–740

Middle Geometric (i and ii)

850/840–760

Late Geometric

740–700

Late Geometric

(ia, ib, iia, iib) Orientalizing (early, late)

Early Archaic Period

Late Orientalizing (later) Archaic

700–640/630

Early Archaic Period

Protoattic, Protocorinthian, and other regional designations

760–700/670

700/670–600/580

640/630–600 Late Archaic Period

600–480

Modified following Manning, 2010, table 2.2; Dickinson 2006, 23; Kotsonas 2008, 32, table 1.

Late Archaic Period

600/580–480

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the above argument relies, and to trace the differences and similarities between each time period, the chapters are structured similarly. Specifically, chapters begin with a brief overview highlighting prominent cultural and environmental attributes of the time period, followed by a detailed description of data available for the production of oil and wine, including land ownership, scale of production, location of production, control of surplus, scale of surplus storage, and so on. The chapter then moves through the three modes of exchange highlighted earlier – commensal, gift, and commercial – outlining the archaeological and textual data as it provides a broad picture of how olive oil and wine were used in each exchange context. Feasting deposits are highly visible in the archaeological record, taking the form of large deposits of drinking, eating, and cooking ceramics, storage wares, and remnants of the actual meals (bones, plant remains). In addition, changes in the location, frequency, and scale of feasting deposits can aid in reconstructing social conditions and their dependences on oil and wine for commensal activities. As will be explored, the combination of data on feasting deposits with data from surplus storage practices, written records, and production installations, creates a relatively full picture of the nature and transitions of surplus oil and wine use within this particular mode of exchange. This, in turn, can inform us of the value attributed to these goods and their place within an entanglement. Archaeological and textual evidence for non-commensal gift exchange relies on ritual and funerary contexts. There are two categories of evidence for these instances of the use of oil and wine within the context of non-commensal gift exchange. The first category involves records of transactions between people and deities where the provisions are intended as offerings and not as supplies for feasting or drinking events. This dataset is of course only useful when textual evidence is available, that is, in the Late Bronze Age and early Archaic period. The second and more plentiful avenue of inquiry involves objects associated with oil and wine storage and consumption, such as jars, jugs, cups, and perhaps pyxides (small containers used for unguents/processed oils), deposited within sanctuaries or within tombs as grave offerings. Trends over time and region in the number, frequency, and types of oil and wine containers provide evidence for the relative value of oil and wine in those contexts as gifts to gods and deceased people. For example, the continuing value of oil and wine as a funerary gift after the Mycenaean palatial collapse is exemplified by the presence of hundreds of decorated stirrup jars, used for perfumed oil and wine, in the graves at the cemetery of Perati in Attica. In fact, the small stirrup jar remained one of the most popular types of vessel in the Postpalatial era, supplanted only in the Early Iron Age by amphoriskoi (small amphoras). The remnants of commercial exchanges are best represented by the distribution of large amphoras and related shapes. In each chapter, the most prevalent types of amphoras produced and exchanged in the Aegean are discussed. For the Late Bronze Age, the production and distribution patterns for both amphoras and a specialized type of container, the transport stirrup jar, are discussed. Production

map 1.1 Map of the Mediterranean with major sites mentioned in the text. Image by author

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map 1.2 Map of the Aegean with major sites mentioned in the text. Image by author

techniques, scale, and standardization all provide insights into the intensity of connections between the people and things that surround that industry. Massproduced, standardized, and labelled transport stirrup jars in the Mycenaean palatial era are in stark contrast to the following Postpalatial era when common, almost interchangeable, household shapes, such as the neck amphora and hydria, are used for small-scale, regional exchanges of oil and wine. The differences in amphora production strategies are consistent with their dramatically divergent cultural contexts and highlight changing socioeconomic networks. The distribution patterns of Greek amphoras are used to understand the relative value of their contents in various regions of Greece and the broader Mediterranean. How these patterns change over time, that is, from chapter-to-chapter, presents a long-term picture of how networks of commercial exchange never ceased, but altered in scale and shape to match the needs of the entanglement at a given time.

THE STR UCTURE OF THE BOOK

The conclusion of each chapter takes a holistic view of the production strategies and relevant patterns across all three exchange modes to describe and analyze the structure of the entanglement and the value of oil and wine at that particular point in time. Ultimately, the relationships of dependency made visible by these data reveal the internal workings and external connections of the Bronze and Iron Age Greek world. It is through these two cultural commodities that continuity and change can be understood over the long term in the social, ideological, and economic underpinnings of Greek culture. The Conclusion to the book addresses the implications of this historical study on modern issues of agriculture and commerce in the Mediterranean. As the Mediterranean is once again impacted by dramatic climate change today, it is important to understand more fully the outcomes of these changes in the past and how populations adapted to and, eventually, thrived in new conditions. Ultimately, the downfall of human populations is not just the climate change itself, but also the unwillingness to effectively adapt. It is therefore necessary to learn from the entanglements of the past to pursue the most beneficial paths for people and their relationships with olive trees and vines. As cultural commodities even today, olive oil and wine remain a staple of Greek life, without which the future is inconceivable. At this point of inescapable entanglement, to suggest halting production of these two commodities, due to the effects of climate change, would seem impossible. Yet, it is becoming increasingly clear that the environments of many regions of Greece and Crete are changing, to the point where maintaining olive trees and producing olive oil are no longer monetarily lucrative. The cost of water exceeds the price at which the oil is eventually sold. These cultural commodities could pose a threat to the stability of the region as climate change worsens in the next 50 years.

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TWO

DEVELOPING A RELATIONSHIP OF DEPENDENCY Oil and Wine in the Minoan Palatial Era

A

s one of the earliest locations in greece with clear evidence for surplus production of both olive oil and wine, the island of Crete occupies an integral place in the history of these two commodities.1 By the time of the Minoan palaces, roughly 2000–1450 BCE, Cretans had already been enjoying olive oil and wine for roughly 1,000 years.2 Yet it was only during this time, when homogenous cultural attributes spread throughout the island and palatial or central-court buildings became the focus of social and economic activities, that the scale of oil and wine production and exchange increased exponentially.3 Before this point, archaeological evidence suggests that oil and wine were produced in relatively small quantities and were more socially restricted. As this chapter demonstrates, during the palatial era, and especially the Neopalatial era (ca. 1600–1450 BCE), olive oil and wine continued to be highly valued products but became more accessible to a wider section of the population as exchange contexts, such as feasts and trade, increased in scale and frequency.4 Evidence from storage strategies, commensal events, ritual offerings, and commercial exchanges suggests that oil and wine came to play an integral role in the functioning of central-court buildings and their complex relationships with the agricultural hinterlands around them. The details surrounding the production and exchange of oil and wine therefore provide unique insights into the broader sociopolitical changes of the Neopalatial era.

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Based on a cohesive view of the data presented in this chapter, I suggest that the Neopalatial era was the tipping point in the entanglement between people and oil/wine in the prehistoric Aegean. Compared to previous eras on the island, the Neopalatial era marks a significant change in the way the high value of oil and wine was perceived and created. New hierarchies and political configurations made possible upscaled production of oil and wine. The choice to pursue that upscaled production and exchange the products in large-scale feasting, ritual, and economic contexts suggests that oil and wine not only maintained a high value but also became accessible to a larger section of the population. These people, their institutions, and associated ideas then contributed to the construction of the high value of oil and wine and the cultural attributes associated with it. Ultimately, the sociopolitical situation of the Neopalatial era created the perfect environment for the establishment of a lasting connection between people, oil, and wine for the next 1,000 years and beyond. PRODUCTION OF OIL AND WINE

The mode, scale, and integration of the production of oil and wine at a given time, and how these attributes change over time, can contribute toward understanding how the value of these two commodities was constructed within a given cultural context and the characteristics of their integration within an entanglement. The Minoan Neopalatial era marks a point when the archaeological evidence available for the production of oil and wine increases substantially. In fact, the facilities from the Minoan period represent the most robust corpus of data for the production of oil and wine until the Hellenistic period. The best evidence for wine and olive oil production are the physical installations associated with their manufacture. The number of presses, their location within a site, and their association with other archaeological remains are important indications for the status and value of the actors and activities involved in the creation and control of oil and wine. In addition, patterns produced over time within these variables can indicate changes to the size and scale of potential production, which can be the result of changes in how production of these commodities was administered, by whom, and for what purposes. These changes ultimately reflect how value was constructed for and attributed to these products. The general trend observable for the presence of pressing vats in the Minoan Bronze Age reveals an overwhelming preponderance of wine presses compared to olive presses, at least within excavated (generally settlement) contexts (Figures 2.1 and 2.2).5 Platon and Kopaka (1993) recorded forty-one installations for Bronze Age Crete, thirty-two of which can be identified as ceramic wine presses, divided between a ceramic version (Type I) and a platform

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OIL A ND WINE IN THE MINOAN PALAT IAL ERA

2.1 Wine-making installation from Vathypetro. Image by Chelsey Gareau

version (Type II).6 This discrepancy is further emphasized by the fact that most of the stone olive presses date to the later Mycenaean period on the island. It is therefore possible that olive pressing was carried out in the location of the olive groves themselves, which, at the moment, have yet to be identified.

Technologies of Wine and Oil Production The morphology of Type I press beds, along with their contexts and accompanying equipment, points toward their use for wine production. Frequently found in settlements or in isolated buildings (farmsteads), these spouted ceramic containers are placed on an artificial platform or bench and in immediate relation with it a large pot or collector is placed on a lower level to receive the liquid from the press above (either placed standing above the ground or inserted into the ground). The press beds are of relatively uniform dimensions

PRODUCTION OF OIL A ND WINE

2.2 Stone-pressing bed from Kommos. After Platon and Kopaka 1993, 41, fig. 4. Image by Chelsey Gareau

(ca. 0.47–0.69 and 0.55–0.77 cm in diameter for the base and lip, respectively; heights range from 0.21 to 0.50 cm). When found in isolation, they have been variously interpreted as for separating oil and water during olive pressing, grape pressing for wine, washing clothes, and so on (Renfrew 1972, 282, 285; Warren 1972, 138–139). Yet, when all the examples are examined as a whole and the characteristics of the technology scrutinized, it becomes clear that Type I press beds could be used for only a limited number of activities. Their ceramic construction would be insufficient for the amount of pressure needed to crush olive stones, and their dimensions, along with tall walls, would prevent using any kind of rolling technique. Instead, the morphology of the vat and its large spout with tall walls of its own suggest that the activity produced and managed relatively large amounts of liquid that would be conveyed in its entirety into a separate storage container (Hamilakis 1996). That the associated storage container is often embedded in the floor and is immobile should not be surprising. A submerged container for the fermentation of grape must is a common trait in the production of wine in various regions of the Mediterranean (e.g., the earliest wine at Areni cave, Armenia). When finished, the wine would then be ladled or scooped out into other containers. Alternatively, the must could be immediately ladled out into nearby fermentation pots. In either case, it would also be necessary to have the catchment pot at a low position to allow enough room above to manipulate the pressing of the fruit in the vat by either standing in it or using a tool to exert force.7 This type of installation had a long life span and was quite conservative since it has been identified in sites dating from at least 1650 BCE (Akrotiri) to ca. 1450 BCE

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(Zakros), as described later. Even earlier, the site of Myrtos (Phornou Koryphi; 2900–2200 BCE) has multiple examples of press beds and pithoi with grape pips and skins, as well as chemical signatures indicating they contained wine (Warren 1972; Brun 2004, 72–73). One of the best examples of a Type I press installation comes from the Late Minoan palatial town of Zakros in east Crete.8 Many houses (at least ten) situated on the hills near the palace produced these types of installations or press beds. House Z, a large important building on the southwest hill near the palace, presents a relatively recently excavated in situ example that is particularly well preserved. The room in which the installation was found seems to have been used exclusively for pressing and storage of wine. The equipment was all intact and almost entirely in situ including a platform on which the Type I ceramic press bed was placed, along with a large collector container fixed at a lower level in front of the press. The lower part of the collector was embedded in the ground. Two steps were constructed on the southern side of the press in the extension of the platform, most likely used to deposit grapes into the press and to step into the press bed for crushing the grapes. The person pressing the grapes could even take a break and sit on a built-in bench at the same level as the press. The must would then be transferred from the collector container to the two pithoi placed nearby using the jugs and cups also recovered from the room. An embedded jar would have even collected any liquid lost during the move, aided by the slope of the ground. Once fermented, the wine would then be transferred to the two amphoras and two smaller pithoi in the room. The room also contained items perhaps tangentially related to wine-making such as a tripod, a loom weight, and fragments of a circular stuccoed offering or libation table. Although no organic remains have been published from the room, the mechanics of the installation combined with the types of associated equipment make a strong case for the production of wine in this room. Since pieces of this wine-making kit have been found in many other houses at Zakros, it would not be unreasonable to assume that where a Type I press bed has been found there was likely wine-making taking place.9 The site of Mochlos, located on the north coast, is divided between the coast and a small offshore island. The coastal part of the site was the location of various artisans’ quarters and workshops. There, Building C.7 contained two Type I press beds. Both press beds have been subjected to residue analysis, with interesting results. The first press bed was found in Room 2.2 on a bench with a funnel along with many different types of containers, stone tools, cooking pots, and cups on the floor. Almost all of the containers and the press bed produced chemical compounds related to olive oil, coriander, and other spices. The room has been interpreted as a perfumed oil workshop with the vat having signatures of all the different ingredients suggesting it was part of the last phase of the brewing process (Brogan and Koh 2008, 2). The second press bed was

PRODUCTION OF OIL A ND WINE

found outside the northwest entrance to the second phase of the building in LM IB. It is slightly different morphologically with a closed spout and the presence of a hole on the side. Unlike the previous press bed, this one produced residues of tartaric and syringic acids, used as definitive biomarkers for wine products (Brogan and Koh 2008, 3). Pithoi in the same building had residues for both oil and wine, suggesting reuse (Brogan and Koh 2008, 4). The evidence from Mochlos suggests that when a press bed is found in isolation, one cannot assume that it was used solely for the production of wine, but rather could function in different contexts. One of the most recently discovered in situ Type I pressing installations was found at the site of Akrotiri on Thera. During excavations for the site’s new shelter, a press bed was found together with a collection pot (Sarpaki 2012, 215). The press bed is very similar to those on Crete, but with slightly taller walls and made of local clay. The collection pot is also of local origin and type with a wider mouth and spout inserted into the thick lip (Sarpaki 2012, 215). Three others of this type have been noted in preliminary publications (Doumas 2014, 24–25, fig. 20.b, h; 56; 57, fig. 52). Unique to this installation is a basket full of slaked lime found inside the press bed (Doumas 2014, 56, fig. 51). Doumas (2014, 56) notes that ethnographic testimonies confirm that lime is used to purify and filter must. Although the complete context of this installation is unknown or unpublished, it is supplemented by evidence from the broader site indicating that wine production was an important sector of the economy. In addition to the multiple examples of collection basins with lipspouts, narrow-bottomed pithoi with a spigot close to the base are also frequently found (Doumas 2014, 59, fig. 54). Interestingly, they are lined with bees’ wax, and one of them has a relatively long Linear A inscription (at least six characters) incised on the rim of the vase that includes the sign for wine (Doumas 2014, 58, fig. 53). An Early Cycladic II version of this same type of container has been found at Akrotiri, although of a slightly different, more amphora-like, shape but with a spigot at the base (Doumas 2014, 17, fig. 13). In addition, grape pips, both whole and crushed, have been found throughout the site (Doumas 2014, 23, fig. 19b), and bunches of grapes were a very common motif. Taken together, it seems that Therans were just as concerned with the production of wine as their southerly Cretan neighbors.10 The second type of press bed found in Bronze Age contexts on Crete is composed of a built or carved rectangular area, sometimes plastered, with a cutting leading to a lower-level platform or other catchment installation, such as a pithos. These installations are almost certainly used for crushing grapes and producing must for fermentation; they can be found out in the countryside near the vineyards and carved out of bedrock or constructed within a building. Bi-level rock-cut basins were a very common type of grape-pressing installation throughout the Near East and even used up to today. In Armenia, for

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example, these installations had been used since the Early Bronze Age. Bedrock cuttings at the site of Agarak in the region of Shirak (from which we get the wine designation “Shiraz”) might date to the Late Bronze Age and Early Iron Age, though this site had been in use since the Early Bronze Age II period (ca. 2900–2700 BCE).11 There, large rectangular cuttings in the bedrock included a circular opening or cutting close to the bottom from which must would have flowed down to a lower rock-cut deep basin. From there, it would have been presumably scooped out and stored in jars to ferment (Figure 2.3). Similar evidence comes from the opposite end of the Mediterranean and about 3,000 years later. Historical and ethnographic evidence from Spain provides examples of large, open bi-level pressing basins cut out of the bedrock in the vineyard itself. For example, a “stomping pit” has been used at a vineyard in La Rioja, Spain, since the early eighteenth century. The first level of the pit catches all the stems and seeds from the grapes, while the second level removes smaller debris such as skin and seeds as the must flows over the rock.12 For the Minoan era, a rock-cut example comes from the island of Gavdos, just off the southern coast of Crete. Inhabited in the Minoan period, the island seems to have had at least one prominent settlement that exported goods, such as pottery and foodstuffs, to the Cretan mainland (e.g., stirrup jars and ovalmouthed amphoras; Rutter 2006b; Day et al. 2011, 544; Pratt 2016a, 40, table 6). The installation discovered on Gavdos is composed of two relatively deep rectangular basins cut into the bedrock, one lower than the other,

2.3 Bronze Age rock-cut basins at Agarak. Photo courtesy of Kristina Olshansky

PRODUCTION OF OIL A ND WINE

connected by a cutting that allowed the liquid from the upper basin to flow to the lower one (Kopaka et al. 2001; Kopaka 2015). Due to the nature of the discovery, it is impossible to determine whether wine was produced there through residue analyses. However, there is some indication in the Linear A records that wine was transported from Gavdos to other districts under the administration of Haghia Triada (Tsikritsis 2002, 118). An example of a constructed version of this type of pressing installation has been found at the large Minoan settlement of Palaikastro in east Crete, not far from the palatial site of Zakros. Dating to the beginning of the Neopalatial era (MM IIIB), Building 6 included a room with a plaster-lined, low-walled tank measuring 1.90 by 1.53 m with walls 40–45 cm wide and 20–30 cm high. The plaster was mixed with crushed hexiplex shells and laid over the floor of the tank, which sloped down from east to west (Knappett and Cunningham 2012, 65, 181, pl. 15). Strangely, a Type I press bed was embedded in the southern wall and associated with a large sunken pithos at a lower level. Inside the pithos was found a broken dipper cup, as well as part of a pithoid jar inside the press bed. There is some indication that this press had a long life, stretching back into the Protopalatial period. We might therefore be observing two stages in the use-life of this press. The earlier version used the plastered tank to crush the grapes while the later version used the Type I press bed, which became increasingly popular throughout the Neopalatial era. Alternatively, the plastered floor might have also been used for other industrial purposes like purpledye production or cloth-dying. Not only were hexiplex shells found within the plaster, but additional shells also were found to the west of the tank. Two similar installations were found at Zakros, one of which was also associated with a Type I press bed (Platon and Kopaka 1993, 60 nos. 34–35). The fewer numbers of Type II pressing installations are not surprising given the fact that they take more effort to construct, are not portable, and were more often than not found outside of the settlements. Olive oil production was most certainly the primary objective for the third type of press bed found throughout Minoan Crete and on Thera. These press beds are constructed out of a single block of stone, either rectangular or circular in shape with shallow walls or merely a depression. Stone would be the obvious choice of material for an activity that required large amounts of force to crush the olives and extract oil. These press beds also included a spout, although much narrower than those of Type I beds, perhaps reflecting the smaller amount of liquid emanating from the crushing process. Like the grapepressing installations, these too had some sort of catchment mechanism, either a basin or large ceramic container. Perhaps the best in situ example of an olive press in the Bronze Age comes from the Minoan port town of Kommos on the southern coast of Crete (Figure 2.2). Perhaps as early as LM I, large-scale workstations were

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established at two separate locations within the settlement. Each consisted of a massive stone-spouted press bed resting on a built stone platform (Blitzer 1993, 167). Although their use might have been concentrated during the following Mycenaean era, these installations nevertheless present evidence for large-scale olive oil production in Minoan settlement contexts (see Chapter 3 for a detailed description). Similar large-scale press beds have been found in Minoan palatial-era contexts at Knossos (unpublished example in the area of the unexplored mansion), at the villa of Vathypetro (two from rooms 1 and 3; Brun 2004, 77), and Late Minoan Phaistos (Blitzer 1993, 167). A similar example has also been found out of context in the quarries on Thera, and large quantities of crushed olive stones have been found throughout the site at Akrotiri (Doumas 2014, 31, fig. 27b, 33).13 And, interestingly, one of only two Linear A tablets found at Akrotiri has the sign for olive oil (Doumas 2014, 31, fig. 27c, 33). Concerning Minoan palatial interest and control in the production of these commodities, the perfumed oil workshop identified at Mochlos (dating to LM IA) is interesting (Brogan and Koh 2008). Its presence within a wealthy port town, but not associated with a palace, is in stark contrast to later LM/LH III situations. It is clear that the palaces consumed perfumed oil for various activities, but they apparently were not as firmly in control of its production. Oil and wine production was therefore quite decentralized in the Minoan Neopalatial era.

Chronology and Context of Minoan Wine and Oil Production The chronological distribution of the wine presses is also significant. Of the thirty-two wine presses, only six date to the Prepalatial (Myrtos-4, Knossos) and Protopalatial (Malia) periods. In contrast, twenty-six date to the Neopalatial period. Between MM IIIB and LM IA, presses are found at Malia, Palaikastro, Azokeramos, Choiromandres and Kato Zakros, Vathypetro, Gournia, Petras, and Epano Zakros. In the LM IB period, there is a significant drop-off in presses datable to that period. Only four sites have LM IB wine presses (Gournia, Palaikastro, Tourtouloi, Kato Zakros), although within these sites there is a concentration of presses – two at Palaikastro, three at Tourtouloi, and three at Kato Zakros. In addition, five presses can be dated to the entire LM I period (Phourni, Knossos, Palaikastro, and Kato Zakros-2). This dramatic increase in presses suggests that the beginning of the Neopalatial period also saw a rise in the concern for producing larger amounts of wine within settlement contexts. The exact location of these presses within individual sites is also important for interpreting the role of oil and wine within Minoan society. Significantly, only three presses have been found within the court-centered buildings

PRODUCTION OF OIL A ND WINE

themselves, and these contexts are questionable (Platon and Kopaka 1993, 72).14 Instead, most presses are found in large houses in the urban vicinity of the court-centered buildings (e.g., at Knossos, Malia, Kato Zakros, and Gournia). These domestic locations perhaps signal the production of wine for both household consumption and some form of palatial, or communal, demand (Figure 2.4c). The dual nature of wine production during the Neopalatial period would fit with what we know of palatial demand for wine from Linear A records and palatial storage areas, as discussed later. The other prominent location for wine presses is within the context of rural villas. Four villas have produced wine presses (Epano Zakros, Tourtouloi,

2.4 Estimated storeroom size (in m2) in Neopalatial palaces, houses, and villas mentioned in the text. After Christakis 2008, Tables 8 and 10. Image by author

Low estimate

High estimate

3,000

4,000 30,000 1,980 16,000

1,600 1,600

HAGIA TRIADA (VILLA REALE)

ARCHANES (CENTRAL BUILDING)

9,900

MOCHLOS TYLISSOS (BUILDING B.2) (MANSION A)

250 1,350

6,400

MYRTOS PYRGOS (CENTRAL BUILDING)

VATHYPETRO

2.5 Estimated storage potential (in liters) of Neopalatial houses and villas mentioned in the text. After Christakis 2008, 44–52, Table 10. Image by author

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Vathypetro, Azokeramos). Many have two or three presses each, perhaps suggesting that some villas specialized in the production of wine (Figure 2.5). Blitzer (2014, 242) has suggested that the olive’s prehistoric cultivation may be an indication of societal changes promoting specialization away from subsistence living, and this may also be true for the vine. Both plants, especially in their early stages, require significant attention that would have been in competition with the maintenance of seed crops necessary for agricultural subsistence. The presence of robust wine-production areas in rural villas also supports the suggestion that palaces were not prominent or direct producers despite their concern with collecting and storing wine. Instead, it seems probable that the wine stored within the palaces had been brought in as finished products (Platon and Kopaka 1993, 92). Villas have also produced some evidence of olive oil production, although these stone implements are generally unconfirmed or unpublished. At Vathypetro, a crudely formed stone press may be LM I or LM III in date (Marinatos 1949, 102–103, pl. 3; Blitzer 1993, 167), and numerous other stone presses found at villas or farmsteads of Middle through Late Minoan in date, such as Zou in east Crete, have gone “unremarked” (Blitzer 1993, 167). The presence of some form of independent production apart from the realm of central-court buildings is also demonstrated by the existence of presses at harbor towns. Coastal non-palatial towns associated with olive and wine presses include Palaikastro, Mochlos, and Kommos. In these instances, the presses are often found alongside amphoras, perhaps suggesting that the oil/ wine produced here was destined to be shipped, via sea routes, to other regions of the island or farther abroad (e.g., Kea or Thera).

Record-Keeping and Land Management Evidence Documents Written in Linear A. While the Linear A script is not fully deciphered, it can nevertheless provide some information about the relationships between palaces, producers, and surplus oil and wine. Relevant data include volumes of wine and oil with which the palaces were concerned, as well as some general idea of the activities associated with the use of surplus oil and wine. For example, it is not yet possible to identify the Linear A syllabograms with certainty, but many of the ideograms, including those associated with oil and wine, can be identified. In addition, the counting system of the Linear A script is known, allowing for some idea of quantities of things recorded. One significant aspect for our understanding of the nature of the relationship between palaces and the surrounding hinterland is that, in general, Linear A archives seem to support the idea that there had been a relative amount of autonomy regarding the disposition of agricultural production. This is especially significant in comparison with the later LM III period on the island when records written in Linear B are particularly concerned with

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land holdings. For example, within the Linear A documents, while there are categories for “inventory,” “incoming,” “outgoing,” and possibly “assessments” (products expected), there is no category for “cadastral surveys” (records of land holdings) (Montecchi 2012, 3). Also in support of a more autonomous system in Neopalatial Crete is the fact that Linear A tablets varied greatly from site to site and are located at non-court-centered buildings. These more varied contexts indicate that knowledge of Linear A script and its use were not exclusively linked to the “palace” economy, as would be the case with Linear B record-keeping (Montecchi 2012, 5). Although the nature of record-keeping within Linear A administrative documents supports a looser connection between central authorities and agricultural production, the documents also make clear that there did exist a close relationship between the two sectors. Specifically, the central authorities were concerned with acquiring large amounts of oil and wine for various purposes. Indeed, within the Linear A archives, oil and wine are commonly present on all types of documents, including records of contributions (Montecchi 2012, 4). There is only one ideogram for oil, *302 OLE, but it can have modifying or ligatured signs, perhaps indicating quality or type, if perfumed (Montecchi 2012, 17). Linear A has three ideograms related to wine: *131 WINE, *131b, and *131c (Figure 2.6). Like the oil ideogram, these too can receive ligatured signs. It has been argued that these composite signs might indicate the type of wine that is being accounted for, representing the flavor, vintage, or quality (Bennett 2002, 81). For example, tablet 27 from Haghia Triada has two sections on the reverse listing wine. The wine logograms have ligatures or adjunct signs and other signs modifying the numerals for the amounts. Two of the wine adjunct signs are used elsewhere as phonetic signs and so could represent abbreviations for different types, qualities, or origins. The third adjunct to wine, listed twice, is the logogram for a grain, probably barley (Palmer 2002, 100). This too might indicate the type and could potentially reference the “Greek grog” found in residue samples from Minoan tableware.15 Interestingly, the ideogram for “press,” which appears in Egypt from the First Dynasty, is not present in Linear A. This is perhaps related to

2.6 Linear A ideograms for wine (AB 131a–c), olive oil (A 302), and olives (AB 122). Image by author

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the extra-palatial locations of wine presses, as previously noted, suggesting that the palace did not control or manage the presses. In the Linear A archives, wine and oil ideograms appear on a high proportion of texts at the sites of Haghia Triada, Khania, Zakros, Phaistos, Pyrgos and Arkhanes. For example, wine is listed with other commodities on three of the seven tablets found at Arkhanes and is the only commodity recorded on one of the two tablets from Pyrgos. At Haghia Triada, 21 of 147 tablets mention wine.16 Significantly, many Linear A tablets have single commodity sections recording wine. At Haghia Triada, three of nineteen and at Zakros four of six tablets single out wine, which may suggest that Minoans accorded wine specialized handling (Table 2.1; Palmer 2002, 102). As detailed earlier, the ligatured signs indicating quality, flavor, or perhaps vintage on the wine ideogram might further support this suggestion. That palaces were concerned with acquiring wines from different regions, at least, is indicated by the various origins of oval-mouthed amphoras and other containers found in palace storerooms (see later). The designated uses of the recorded quantities of wine are, in general, difficult to discern. However, tablets from Room 9 of Casa del Lebete at Haghia Triada record mixed groups of commodities, including olive oil and wine, which seem to be records of religious offerings intended for feasting (Montecchi 2012, 4). In addition to Linear A archives, the ideograms for wine have been found incised on vases where they can be part of inscriptions or isolated signs. This practice is attested at Knossos where the ideogram was written on large storage table 2.1 Number of attestations of specific Linear A logograms on Neopalatial tablets and the minimum total amount of the commodity in liters

Arkhanes Chania Haghia Triada Knossos Phaistos Tylissos Zakro Kato Symi Myrtos-Pyrgos

Wine: AB 131a–c

Oil: A 302 + ligatures

Olive: AB 122

4 (28.8+ liters) 11 (86.4+ liters) 28 (10,937+ liters) 1 (no associated numerals) 2 (57.6+ liters) – 9 (7,516.8+ liters)* – 1 (ca. 2,592 liters)

2 (115.2 liters) 9 (878.4 + liters 96 (11,790+ liters**) – – 16 (ca. 3,965.5 liters) 1 (Quantity: BB) – –

1 (192 liters) – 14 (14,880+ liters) – – 1 (384 liters) 5 (2,712+ liters) 1 (no associated numerals) –

Calculations are based on tablets listed in Schoep 2002b, 100, 103, 119. * Schoep 2002, 102 and 184 show conflicting amounts for ZA 4. Page 184 lists the amount of wine on ZA 4 as 9,984 liters, about 65 pithoi. This seems to be a mistake, using dry instead of liquid measurements. ** Figures from Schoep 2002, 182 are incorrect, again using dry instead of liquid measurement. Dry: 1 unit=96 liters; T=9.6 liters; V=1.6 liters; Z=0.4 liters. Liquid: 1 unit=28.8 liters; S=9.6 liters; V= 1.6 liters; Z=0.4 liters.

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pithoi (KN Zb 27 followed by the number 17; isolated signs: KN Zb 34, KN Zb 36, KN Zb 37, KN Zb 38). Wine ideograms were also found at Epano Zakros where a long inscription was identified on a large pithos. This inscription starts with the ideogram for wine, followed by the number 32 (ZA Zb 3). On the island of Kea, an isolated wine ideogram has been found on a pitcher (KE Zb 5) (Platon and Kopaka 1993, 85; Hallager 2002, 64). It can be assumed, based on the presence of oil and wine on Linear A archive documents, as well as on storage pithoi found within palace contexts, that the palaces had direct interests in the quantities of both commodities and their subsequent storage at these locations (Figure 2.7). The recording of olives, vines, oil, and wine in Linear A tablets verifies that both plants and their products were already fundamental elements of the agricultural economy on Crete by the Middle Minoan period (Blitzer 1993, 169).

Land Management Features and the Effects of Climate Change Even though there is no indication in the Linear A archives that the palaces were involved with land directly, as in later Linear B documents, there is some evidence from the Neopalatial era that suggests people were more concerned with controlling and interacting with the natural world. At the beginning of the LM I period, an expansion in water management features takes place. The construction of wells, cisterns, stone and ceramic channels, gutters or water spouts, ceramic pipelines, multistage irrigation networks, and the development of new hydraulic technologies, like embankment dams and reservoirs, all point to a concern for the retention of and access to water (Vokotopoulos, Plath, and McCoy 2014). These active interactions with the landscape might also indicate the formation of intensified connections between people, since the construction and maintenance of water management devices like dams, irrigation

2.7 The number of pithoi that palatial stores were designed to house. After Christakis 2008, Table 9. Image by author

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channels, and cisterns all require massive labor investment. Although both olive trees and grapevines can be dry-farmed, fruit production and growth can be enhanced significantly through additional water and irrigation (Rossi et al. 2013). Grapevines, in particular, are more sensitive to dry conditions and, depending on the location (e.g., lower altitude in drier East Crete), might have required more water than was naturally available. Although it is impossible to know whether these features were directed toward olive and grape cultivation, it is nevertheless possible that these crops benefited from their existence. Large agricultural construction projects have been identified at a number of sites scattered around the island and dating from the end of the Middle Bronze Age into the Neopalatial era. On the small island of Pseira, agricultural dams and terraces were constructed in the LM I period to maximize arable land and supply water to crops (Betancourt 2012, 48, 55). Other dams have been recognized at Phaistos and Mochlos. Although the construction of dams began in the later part of the Middle Bronze Age, the Neopalatial era marks a period of intensification. At the same time, terracing became a relatively widespread practice and is found at Kavousi (Haggis 2005), Vrokastro, Kommos (Pope 2004), Mochlos, Chalinomouri (Soles et al. 2003, 123–124), Itanos, and Gournia. The site of Choiromandres, located near Kato Zakros on the far east end of the island, has both elaborate terracing and multiple dams all constructed in the late LM IA or early IB period. In addition, an enclosed plot of 3.4 hectares was covered by planned parallel terraces above which were built two successively placed dams and check-dams. In this case, the dams seem to have been the result of a desire to protect arable land from erosion, as well as providing the benefits of rainwater collection (Vokotopoulou, Plath, McCoy 2014, 255–257). Similar terracing and water management features near the large site of Palaikastro, just north of Kato Zakros, have also been dated to around the same time (Orengo and Knappett 2018; Kulick 2019, 13–14). These agricultural arrangements were adapted for dryland agriculture and reflect concerns for soil retention that suggest the existence of pressures in land use across Palaikastro’s territory. The construction of much deeper wells in LM IB at the site of Palaikastro itself might add to the local narrative of increased attention to water sources (MacGillivray et al. 2007, 223–224). There are a number of possible reasons for the Neopalatial increase in construction of labor-intensive land and water management features. The first would be connected to the rise of the second palaces and the need for more cultivated land to support the activities of the palaces, including large communal events and economic enterprise. Water control might have been used to grow specific crops that require more water than is naturally available. The creation of enclosed terraces would also suggest a need to separate these

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desirable crops. Additional terracing features might also suggest the desire to create more space for cultivated crops to support palatial enterprise. The other possibility, which by no means excludes the first, is that these land and water management features are in response to climate change, as indicated by proxy sources such as pollen records (Jahns 1993, 2005; Bottema and Sarpaki 2003, Kouli 2011). There are two prevailing opinions on Bronze Age climate change. The first suggests that proxy evidence indicates short-term episodes of pronounced aridity and erratic drought (MacGillivray, Sackett and Driessen 2007, 223–224). At the same time, there is some evidence for the presence of a “Little Ice Age” producing cooler, wetter, and less evaporative conditions, again punctuated by inconsistencies in timing and amount of rainfall (Moody 1997, 2009). The second scenario reconstructs a more gradual intensification of the summer dry season, which would have developed on Crete during the Bronze Age. This maturation of the summer dry season, along with contrasting wet winters, has been dated to the Middle-Late Bronze Age (Moody 1997, 72; Grove and Rackham 2001, 144–145; see also Drake 2012). The most recent analyses use palaeoclimatic data, archaeological evidence, and ethnographic analogy to argue that water management features from LM I Crete, as well as other evidence suggesting cultural concern for water, point to the second scenario (Flood 2012; Flood and Soles 2014). Moreover, the specific locations of Neopalatial water management technologies do not correspond to areas with the highest settlement density, but rather areas subject to longer dry seasons and erratic rainfall patterns (Flood and Soles 2014, 80). This bimodal climate and aridization seems to have developed over an extended period of time, allowing the gradual adaptation of water management systems to fit the new climatic scenario. The character of Neopalatial water management features (dams, reservoirs) suggests a concern for storing water from one season to the next, from the wet season to the dry (Flood and Soles 2014, 84). Because of these transitional conditions, the landscape would have been subject to unpredictable climatic events, such as episodes of flash-flooding, exacerbated by poor surface moisture retention in soils, rapid infiltration to subsurface groundwater accumulations and intermittently flowing streams (Vokotopoulos, Plath, and McCoy 2014, 253). If these water and land management techniques are indeed a response to changes in climate, we might expect the relationship between people and their surrounding natural environment to grow more intense. Whether people attributed the changes they viewed to climate change or, perhaps, supernatural intervention does not change the fact that certain responses were needed.17 These responses created connections between farmers and their crops that would have developed a nature of dependency, whereby the climate change necessitated one to provide essential life ingredients (e.g., water regulation, shade, more nutritious fruit) for the other. Domesticated

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plants, like olive trees and grapevines, are particularly susceptible to increased reliance on humans for their continued survival when climate change affects their natural habitat. As discussed in the Introduction, olive trees and grapevines are not only good bioindicators of climate change but can also be profoundly affected by their interactions with humans and the type of agricultural strategies employed to help them thrive. Climate change toward a bimodal seasonal system and longer dry periods would have initiating, albeit gradually, a shift in the agricultural strategies employed by farmers, perhaps necessitating irrigation or altered growing areas. Microclimates undoubtedly played a major role in olive and vine cultivation in Bronze Age Greece and Crete. Areas of western Crete receive significantly higher water availability, mainly due to the average regional elevation being high, combined with the mountainous terrain providing winter snowpacks that sustain agricultural activities throughout the summer. As the Late Bronze Age climate shifted toward drier, warmer conditions, it is not surprising that most of the water management features have been found in eastern Crete, where changes in natural water availability would have been more significant and perhaps more immediately felt. Both archaeobotanical data and modern scientific studies give strong indication that grapevines and olive trees would have been affected by the climate change occurring during the Late Bronze Age. Pollen cores from northwestern Crete show that olive pollen decreased around the beginning of the Neopalatial period and continued to decrease after the Theran eruption (Bottema and Sarpaki 2003). In the Lake Kournas core, olive pollen values decrease from 19.3 to 2.7 percent after the eruption and in the Delphinos core the values decrease from 6.1 to 1.3 percent. This relatively dramatic reduction might be the result of a combination of factors that include general climate change, settlement pattern change, and cultivation strategy change. Bottema (2003, 747) suggests that the decrease of olive pollen percentages shown in the cores can be explained by the abandoning of groves, neglect, absence of pruning, or the cutting of trees. At the same time, grapevine pollen had a very low percentage before the Theran eruption, but high values after it. While this might demonstrate an intensification of vine cultivation, it might also be the result of wild vine increasing in the region (Bottema 2003, 747). Since the pollen from the wild and domesticated olives and grapevines are nearly impossible to discern distinctly, it is impossible to determine the precise causes of these fluctuations. In addition, it is necessary to keep in mind that the cores are derived from northwestern Crete and therefore reflect more precisely the conditions of the surrounding environment and cannot represent the entire island. Nevertheless, the apparent changes in olive tree and grapevine pollen do coincide with climate changes and the settlement shifts that seem to have followed. In the case of northwestern Crete, decreases in olive pollen in that

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particular region might have been caused more by movements of people rather than by the inability of olive trees to thrive in that environment. This idea is supported by the following LM III period when there is much evidence to suggest that expansive olive tree groves flourished in northwestern Crete, producing large quantities of surplus olive oil that was then bottled and shipped to various eastern Mediterranean regions (see Chapter 3). Based on the evidence discussed earlier, it is relatively clear that the Neopalatial era was a time of transition and change. Not only were the second palaces constructed together with their own form of bureaucracy and subsistence management, but the world around them was changing as the climate moved toward more erratic conditions. The Neopalatial era shows a marked increase in agricultural and land management strategies necessary to keep olive grove and vineyard yields high. This more active approach to the landscape would have heightened the relationship between olive trees and grapevines and the people who cultivated them and relied on their produce. Although the climate changes proposed for the Late Bronze Age likely took place over a longer period of time, there are nevertheless some indications that human populations did indeed see these changes occurring, as perhaps indicated by the increase in shrines incorporating water features and the introduction of deities associated with water abundance (Flood and Soles 2014, 83–84). In addition, the number and concentration of wine presses increased dramatically from the previous era, suggesting an additional investment of time and energy in the production of wine (Table 2.2). The location of these wine presses, in large houses around the palaces or within large villas, suggests a decentralized nature of production. This pattern of press locations indicates that the palaces were not directly involved with the manufacture of oil and wine. Yet, Linear A evidence makes clear the desire of palatial authorities to have access to a surplus of both commodities. Both oil and wine are included on a large percentage of all extant tablets. In addition, all central-court buildings devoted a huge amount table 2.2 Number of presses found in Pre/Protopalatial versus Neopalatial contexts Wine presses EM IIB–MM II Palace Urban (w/palace) Settlement (w/o palace) Villa Cemetery

2 5 (Myrtos)

Wine presses MM III–LM IB

Olive (stone) presses NP

2 20 6 (PK) 8 1 (Phourni)

1 (PK) 1 (Valthypetro)

From Platon and Kopaka 1993 and Palmer 1994, 24–25, Table 1.1 with more recent additions (e.g., PK Block M – NP)

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of space to the storage of surplus commodities. Oil and wine were certainly two of the most prominent. Indeed, the palaces had a large stake in the production of surplus oil and wine that could then be used in multiple forms of exchange. MODES OF EXCHANGE: COMMENSAL, GIFT, AND COMMERCIAL

Within a cultural economy paradigm, the value of an object is ultimately tied to its exchange and the means by which it is exchanged. Exchange can be understood as the liminal space between production and consumption that affects the nature of production and consumption (cf., Introduction pg. 22–23; Gregory 2014; Callon and Muniesa 2005, 1229). Thus, we may understand the increased production of olive oil and wine in the Neopalatial era, discussed previously, as a direct function of the increasing importance of those liquids and the reliance on those liquids by people during both daily and special exchanges. The following section outlines the archaeological and written evidence for three prominent modes of exchange, in which surplus oil and wine were used. These modes include commensal, gift, and commercial exchange. Here, it is informative to compare the evidence for the role of oil and wine in these types of Neopalatial exchanges to those from previous eras in an attempt to see changes and patterns, which might indicate the shifting relationship between people and these two commodities. Overall, it becomes clear that in all modes of exchange, oil and wine became more prominent throughout the Neopalatial era. COMMENSAL EXCHANGE: INCREASING SCALE AND FORMALIZATION OF FEASTS

Some of the main venues for surplus oil and wine exchange, taking place within multiple aspects of Minoan life, were communal commensal events, or feasts. Tracing the patterns in the prominent use of oil and wine within these venues of connectivity provides a window onto the changing political and social relationships from the Protopalatial to Neopalatial eras. Changes to the overall availability, accessibility, and performativity related to the consumption of olive oil and wine, as culturally valued commodities, are proxy indicators of changes in the way that people managed social and political hierarchies. As will be discussed later, in the Minoan period, there is evidence for both entrepreneurial/empowering feasts, as well as patron-role feasts with a more open constituency. In other words, the material remains point to strategies of exclusion by elites alongside rites of aggregation and cohesion through the manipulation, offering, and consumption of food and drink. To understand the significance of oil and wine in these contexts, it is useful to compare practices over a long period of time. In what follows, broad patterns in Protopalatial commensal events are juxtaposed with those of the ensuing Neopalatial era.

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Protopalatial Era In the Protopalatial period, feasting seems to have been concentrated within funerary contexts at locations specifically designated for large-scale communal feasts, such as platforms and annexes outside large tombs (e.g., Branigan 1993). These locations often produce huge quantities of feasting debris and are sometimes associated with wine presses, suggesting on-site production of the wine that would have been necessary for these occasions. For example, a wine press was found in the Early to Middle Minoan cemetery of Phourni at Archanes, in addition to more than 300 vessels, mostly conical cups associated with a paved area near the terrace in front of Building 6 and near tholos B. At Haghia Triada, conical cups, jugs, and plates were found in recent excavations in the annexes south of tholos A, dated to Middle Minoan I. Ritualized behavior related to the dumping of this debris can sometimes be identified. At the cemetery of Drapinias Kisam, a huge number of conical cups were found in the context of ritual smashing (AR 2000–2001, 140–141). A final indication that feasting practices took place outside of tombs during the Protopalatial period is the stark contrast with assemblages found within the tombs themselves. While small quantities of bridge-spouted jars, cups, and miniature storage jars are included with the dead, they are paltry assemblages when compared to the impressive numbers of pouring vessels, juglets, pitchers, and conical cups found in exterior spaces. A good example of this juxtaposition can be found at the well-known Protopalatial cemetery of Kamilari in the Mesara plain (Borgna 2004, 259). The discovery of wine press models within a number of tombs of the Mesara might present another indication that wine was directly associated with the funerary world (Platon and Kopaka 1993). These models might symbolize the association of the dead with wine production (perhaps they were wine-makers?), indicating that the identity of this person was intimately connected to his involvement with wine. In addition, when compared with other deposited grave goods, the miniature pressing vats demonstrate how the value of wine as a prestige good is clearly associated with its production and not just its consumption. Prepalatial and Protopalatial feasting activities were not restricted to cemeteries. Remains of commensal events have been found within other ritual (sanctuary, cave) and settlement contexts. The Prepalatial site at Myrtos is perhaps the best example of both a settlement and ritual context with evidence for feasting and wine consumption. Within the settlement, a group of rooms has been identified as a sanctuary. Next to the sanctuary was a wine press, suggesting a close connection between the production of wine and its use in the adjoining ritual area. Caves with evidence for Protopalatial drinking and feasting events include Kamares (Tyree 2001, 45), Psychro (Watrous 1996, 31–40), Amnisos (Tyree 2001, 45 n. 47), and Skotino (Faure 1964, 164). At

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these caves, pottery of Protopalatial date consists predominately of drinking cups and pouring vessels, and the presence of larger jars at Kamares and Psychro indicate wine was probably the liquid consumed. These jars might have been used to transport the wine up to the sites (Watrous 1996, 31, 34–35; Tyree 2001, 45). When feasting deposits have been detected in Pre- and Protopalatial settlements, their deposition suggests sporadic and spontaneous events, located in open-air, communal spaces not solely designated for the purpose of commensal events (Letesson and Driessen 2008, 208–209). It is clear, however, that even in this early period, feasting events were important aspects of social integrity. The evidence from pottery assemblages, with the introduction of true drinking sets (pouring vessels with matching cups) in the Protopalatial period, suggests a hierarchical, perhaps entrepreneurial/empowering feast type setting. These drinking sets were “instruments of limited and exclusive convivial practices” allowing for the identification of individuals as hosts or guests (MacGillivray 1987, 273–276). This shift to individualized drinking sets may be viewed in opposition to the previous Prepalatial habit of using large communal drinking cups (chalices), which were presumably passed around (Day and Wilson 2004). The adoption of individual drinking vessels such as cups and goblets in EB II and III seems to be a move toward a form of “communal individualism” or “collective individuation” (Simondon 2007; Hamilakis and Sherratt 2012, 191). In the Prepalatial era (and before), oil and (especially) wine were perhaps convenient commodities for community bonding. Their consumption solidified group identity during communal activities. When individual drinking vessels became fashionable in the Protopalatial era, however, I suggest that the connection between people, wine, and oil became more definite. That is, social structures were in part defined by access to particular knowledge about wine drinking and conviviality. These connections between people, wine, and oil would once again shift in the Neopalatial era as the scale and characteristics of feasts changed.

Neopalatial Era After the destructions and disturbances that mark the end of the Protopalatial era, clear shifts in the characteristics of commensal events take place, culminating in “an explosion in ritual commensality” in the Neopalatial era (Hamilakis and Sherratt 2012, 192). Evidence for this aggrandizement takes various forms, including a new emphasis on settlement and ritual feasting, larger more frequent events, new formal arrangements of commensal spaces, and changes in the constituency’s drinking vessel repertoire. These changes began during the initial stage of the Neopalatial era (MM III), continued into the following LM IA period,

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then seem to develop slightly differently during the final period of the Neopalatial era, LM IB. After outlining the changing patterns of feasting remains in the archaeological record, I ultimately suggest that these patterns are the result of a shift in the nature of commensal events, which resulted in an intensification of the relationships between people and these two commodities. Shift in Feasting Contexts. In the transition from the Protopalatial era to the Neopalatial, our evidence for feasting presents a shift from funerary contexts to settlements and sanctuaries. In cemeteries, the designated platforms, large feasting deposits, and contrasting grave assemblages of the Protopalatial era changed to smaller, less defined commensal spaces and indistinguishable ceramic sets in the Neopalatial era. No longer is it possible to identify collective ceremonies outside tombs. Instead, what we see is a change in social strategies and a transformation from a communal method of burial to an individual one (Girella 2007, 153). The number of vessels associated with funerary assemblages diminishes and the types of vessels used as tomb deposits are indistinguishable from those used in consumption of funeral meals/drinks. It is possible that funeral commensal events were now located inside the tombs, limited to members of family, and were centered around drinking toasts and libations (Girella 2007, 153). Despite these changes, it is certain that some form of commensal event was taking place based on the numbers of vessels found in Neopalatial funerary contexts. In addition, at least some cemeteries were maintaining in-house production of wine as was common for the previous period. For example, at the Phourni cemetery at Archanes, Building 4 dates to the LM IA period and has been interpreted as a workshop for wine production. There, 250 conical cups have been found (Sakellarakis and Sakellaraki 1972; Sakellarakis and Sapouna-Sakellaraki 1997, 227–229, 396 [cf., also for Building 17]; Soles 1992, 145). In addition, larger deposits of conical cups have been found at the Neopalatial tombs at Poros (Dimopoulou 1999). The most significant change to feasting contexts in the Neopalatial era is an emergent emphasis on newly designed and redefined feasting spaces within ritual and settlement contexts. Spaces dedicated to ritual activities associated with deities, such as peak sanctuaries and caves, received more attention in the Neopalatial era. One common activity in these places was the enactment of frequent commensal events. Evidence for these events comes from both archaeological remains and written documents recorded in Linear A script. Specifically, the Linear A tablets contain records of religious offerings intended for feasting. These records indicate that amounts of olive oil and wine were almost always needed (Montecchi 2012, 4). Archaeological evidence for commensal events within religious contexts consists of the same types of deposits found in other contexts, including wares for food preparation, eating and

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drinking, as well as plant and animal remains. At the sanctuary of Kato Syme, ritual meals at cultic feasts took place in an open-air enclosure rebuilt at the very beginning of the Neopalatial period (MM IIIB). The remains of these feasts consist of mostly simple, undecorated vessels for drinking (cups and chalices), which perhaps emphasized the community, rather than individuality, in contrast to the previous period (Borgna 2004, 262). In general, caves seem to have been used frequently in the Neopalatial era as they had been in the Protopalatial era (Tyree 2001). Most archaeological evidence suggests that the activities taking place within and near caves often included large communal banquets and drinking rituals (e.g., Skoteino Cave; Girella 2007, 150). For example, Melidoni cave produced a Neopalatial assemblage that consists exclusively of vessels for cooking, eating, and drinking, found in association with numerous fire pits (Tzedakis and Gavrilaki 1995, 891; Tyree 2001, 45 n. 50). In contrast to the beginning of the Neopalatial period, the final period of the Neopalatial era (LM IB) saw a gradual decrease in the frequency at which both peak sanctuaries and caves were used for feasting activities. Indeed, Kato Syme, Iouktas, and Arkalochori were all deserted before LM IB (Girella 2007, 162). The activity once taking place at these specialized locations seems to be replaced by an increase in cultic activity within settlements and the establishment of domestic shrines (Girella 2007, 162). As will be discussed in the following chapter, this abandonment is the result, in part, of a shift as modes of exchange became more centralized during the Mycenaean era. The most prominent changes to feasting can be seen best in the Neopalatial settlement deposits. Whereas during the Protopalatial era feasts were sporadic occasions held in communal non-designated open-air spaces, the Neopalatial era marks a shift toward structures specifically built or designated as spaces for ceremonial and commensal purposes. These include the west wings of palaces and large centralized buildings in non-palatial towns. Western wings of palaces contained cultic installations along with rooms opening onto the western courts, equipped with cooking and serving utensils (Borgna 2004, 257). These, or similar architectural features, and associated equipment have been found at most palatial centers including Phaistos, Khania, Galatas, Petras, Knossos, and Zakros. At Khania, concentrations of pottery suited for dining and drinking were found in association with several structures in the West Court (conical cups) and Great Hall (platform for a lustral basin, restricted attendance). Also associated with palatial repetitive feasting activities is the cultic complex at Daskaloyannis Street in Khania, where pits and drains filled with bones, ash, pots, and hundreds of conical cups have been found (Andreadaki-Vlasaki 1997, 566–571; 2002, 160–161). Residue analysis conducted on some of this material has produced evidence for olive oil on tripods and wine within the conical cups (Martlew 2004; Girella 2007, 152; Tzedakis et al. 2008). At Galatas, indications of ritual consumption have been found in

COMMENSAL EXCHAN GE

several rooms of the palace including Room 22 in the west wing, the east wing with the “cooking place,” the columnar hall, and the pillar hall. Non-palatial settlements have also produced evidence for the establishment of designated commensal buildings. At Mochlos, Building B.2 is six to eight times larger than other houses and is interpreted as a ceremonial center with an altar and bronze bowls. The hearth in front of the altar was found containing remains of the feast, including a cooking dish, tripod cooking pot, several cups and animal bones. In addition, a large number of conical cups were found scattered along the path in front of the building (Brogan and Koh 2008, 5–6). Other indications at Mochlos for a designated feasting location come from the LM IB House D.5. This large building contained a massive number of cooking and eating/drinking equipment, but no kitchens, suggesting a communal dining area (Brogan and Koh 2008, 5). What we can see, therefore, is a shift from the “neutral ground” of the Protopalatial cemetery, to the hierarchically reinforcing and formalized spaces of the Neopalatial settlement. At the same time, sanctuaries also seem to have been locations for formalized feasting. Although the exact nature of these events is entirely unclear, Linear A documents indicate that the palaces had some influence over their management, including the provisioning of surplus oil and wine. Shift in Feasting Scale and Frequency. The beginning of the Neopalatial era also marks a significant change in the scale of feasting events. Whereas Protopalatial era deposits with a few hundred drinking vessels were considered large, these same deposits would be considered average or even below average for a feasting deposit dated to the Neopalatial era. To be considered a largescale deposit for the Neopalatial period, drinking vessels must range in the thousands. This increase in scale can be seen not only in the archaeological record, but also in the written Linear A documents. For example, at Drapinias in western Crete, datable to MM IIIB–LM IA, a total of 3,562 complete conical cups and bell cups have been found. This means that the original number of cups was at least triple that number. These cups were found smashed and scattered together with utility vessels, tripod cooking pots, pithoi, and amphorae, all vessels necessary for the transport, storage, and serving of wine and food (Blackman 2000–2001, 140–1; Girella 2007, 151). In the surviving Linear A tablets, not only are wine and oil frequently mentioned, but also the scale of their consumption at commensal events is sometimes made evident through lists of associated vessels. For example, HT 31 from Haghia Triada lists 3,700 conical cups, an astounding number for a single recorded transaction. While this provisioning may not have been intended for a single event, the large number is nevertheless impressive considering that Linear A documents do not seem to record transactions occurring over long periods of time. Indeed,

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the entire mixed commodity tablet series from Phaistos and Haghia Triada, dating to LM IB, is interpreted as provisions for banquets prepared by the central administration (HT 23, 30, 38, 114, 121, PH 31; Montecchi 2012, 6). Most tablets in this series have various types of oil, most probably perfumed, and wine. The large scale of these feasts is even more impressive when taking into consideration that an increase in the frequency of commensal events also occurred during the Neopalatial period. There is strong evidence for frequently repeated commensal activities, replacing the sporadic and spontaneous feasts of the previous era. At the palatial building at Petras, there is evidence for the systematic organization of a communal feast, related with banqueting performances prepared for receiving people. During the LM IA phase, three deposits of thousands of conical cups have been recovered from several places in the palace (Girella 2007, 147). Another example of the repetitive nature of Neopalatial feasting events comes from an LM IA deposit at Nopigeia. Here, the number of drinking cups runs in the many thousands, and the nature of the deposition shows people returning to same spot over and over again (Hamilakis and Sherratt 2012, 193). The increase in size and frequency of commensal events has significant implications for the relationship between people, oil, and wine, as well as the determination of the value of oil and wine. On the most basic level, events with thousands of participants that take place regularly require huge quantities of both oil and wine. Even if each person received only a small amount of each commodity, say half a liter of wine and a quarter liter of oil, that still adds up to 1,500 liters of wine and 750 liters of olive oil for a 3,000-person event. In all likelihood these quantities were much larger. If each settlement carried out its own events on a regular basis, then large amounts of both commodities would have been needed continually. Specialization and cooperation amongst the inhabitants of a settlement and its hinterland would be a necessary component for the production of such a large amount of surplus product. This type of specialization is even more intricate when the commodities being produced require expert knowledge and skills. When combined with the natural world and the agency of the plants themselves, these connections acquire a new level of complexity. People relied upon the output of the plants and the functioning of the equipment to support a robust production of oil and wine. A closer relationship between people would also be necessary for the creation of water management systems to support this increased production, especially during a time of climate change. In addition, people would rely upon others with specialized knowledge related to the production of large storage and transport containers, without which such large-scale commensal events would not function. Moreover, each major settlement was not always able to support its own need for oil and wine but

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imported these commodities from other areas of the island, a topic to which we will return shortly. Shift in the Nature of Feasting: Exclusive and Unrestricted Access. In addition to changes in the patterns of feasting location, volume, and frequency, there is also a shift in the nature of commensal equipment. Protopalatial era feasting equipment seems to have been characterized by high-quality, differentiated drinking sets. The equipment used during the Neopalatial era, however, seems to have had a slightly binary character that intensified over time. Feasts could be either exclusive elite celebrations or unrestricted occasions in which social identity rather than power was most important.18 Using Dietler’s model, there is evidence for both “entrepreneurial/empowering” and “patronrole” feasts with a more open constituency. However, large open-constituency events seem to be more prominent in the MM III–LM IA periods and exclusive elite events gradually became more common in the final period of the Neopalatial era.19 In contrast to the previous Protopalatial era, the unrestricted feasting events of the Neopalatial era are characterized by a simplified, homogenous banqueting set used by all constituents. Cups, goblets, conical cups, and juglets, all undecorated or simple, are common in the palaces, sanctuaries, and cultic installations, including tomb annexes. As mentioned earlier, deposits consisting of thousands of plain or simple conical cups have been found at most palatial and large non-palatial settlements in or near spaces that were accessible to large numbers of people. It is important to note, however, that these spaces seem to have been regulated and specialized. Open-air gatherings more conducive to random parties characterized Prepalatial and Protopalatial gatherings. In the Neopalatial era other types of spaces for gathering became more important and heterogenous from the Central Court, to open areas between houses and interior gathering areas such as banquet halls, Minoan Halls, and rooms with central column and hearth (Letesson and Driessen 2008, 208). What this heterogeneity and spatial control suggests is a shift toward a division of space that ultimately segregated individuals and articulated social distinctions manifested through different feasting activities. In this way, the “strong program” associated with the spatial configuration of these buildings controls interactions such that any other possible encounter is rendered impossible (Letesson and Driessen 2008, 212). At Kommos, for example, cooking facilities were connected with large-scale feasting and drinking ceremonies that took place either in the central court of Building T (Palatial building) or in spaces, which opened directly off it (stoas) and were easily accessible to large numbers of people (Rutter 2004, 72). Here, the high quality and exotic nature of pouring and drinking vessels suggest that these festive occasions were attended by elite members of society. At the same time, far greater frequencies of more utilitarian versions of the same functional

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vessel types indicate the participation of many other people. A similar situation is present at Mochlos, where a designated communal building containing massive numbers of cooking and eating/drinking equipment (Brogan and Koh 2008, 5). Unrestricted communal events relied more heavily on large surpluses of oil and wine and, consequently, produced increasingly complicated networks of production and exchange that were necessary for their provision. Evidence for the existence of exclusive commensal events alongside the larger, more communal feasts comes from architectural features within both palatial and elite dwellings. Restricted access to banquets in contexts like Neopalatial dwellings might be an attempt by emerging elites to manipulate instruments of social power and political legitimization by favoring exclusion and selective affiliation (Hamilakis 1999). Plentiful amounts of tableware or conical cups appear in extra-palatial settlement contexts, such as elite dwellings at Petras and Galatas (Borgna 2004, 258). In addition, certain small rooms in Neopalatial villas seem to have been locations for more restricted commensal events. In the palaces, fine Kamares cups, jugs, and other pouring vessels characteristic of aristocratic assemblages have been found in the official halls and residential rooms (Borgna 2004, 258). These elite, exclusionary forms of feasting, designed for differentiation, seem to intensify in the LM IB period, contemporary with a drastic decline of communal banquets in all spheres of life. This change might suggest an increase in domestic forms of feasting (Girella 2007, 162). Evidence for this includes a decrease in the use of simple plain ware and an increase in the use of highly elaborate tableware. This elaborate tableware was generally restricted to elite contexts and often came in matching sets. This pairing of vessels is a common feature of Mycenaean feasting practices and foreshadows the influence of the mainland on Crete during the following Monopalatial and Final Palatial periods (see Chapter 3). For example, at LM IB Phaistos, there is clear evidence for wine consumption in Room 103, which includes the recovery of complete storage, pouring, and drinking sets (Girella 2007, 147). In addition, the LM IA final and LM IB levels at Kommos have produced a more elaborate assemblage of feasting equipment compared to the previous MM III and LM IA early period. At Kommos, valued imports from Cyprus, the Greek mainland, and other regions in Crete are quite common and are restricted to the Civic Center, excluding the larger surrounding settlement. At the same time, local finewares become prominent including a homogenous range of patterns in a recurring syntax, namely the “Floral Paneled Style.” The shapes made with this style do not include the most popular Neopalatial shapes and are very limited in scope, including only the semiglobular cup, in-and-out bowl, collar-necked jug, and oval-mouthed amphora (Rutter 2004, 73). Such evidence supports the

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view that in palatial Crete banqueting practices consisted of an articulated series of events in terms of location, function and purpose; moreover, it would seem to imply that in Neopalatial times in particular, elite ideology of consumption was materialized according to a common and codified architectonic language. Indeed, Letesson and Driessen (2008, 212) note that “ . . . during the Neopalatial period, the impact of the architectural elaboration and heterogeneity of poles of convergence reached such proportions that it may eventually have transformed their original essence of communality into an ever increasing tendency toward categorization and segmentation.” What the archaeological evidence suggests is that the Neopalatial era marked a transition to a different kind of feasting, which involved more competition and social segregation, as well as the transition from spontaneous “parties” to ritual (repetitive, regulated) events (Letesson and Driessen 2008, 208; Moody 1987). This change is signaled by new architectural features common to both palaces and large houses (villas, etc.) and by the spatial syntax within these built environments. Open-air gatherings more conducive to random parties characterized Prepalatial and Protopalatial gatherings. In the Neopalatial period other types of spaces for gathering became more important and heterogenous from the Central Court, to open areas between houses and interior gathering areas such as banquet halls, Minoan Halls, rooms with central column and hearth (Letesson and Driessen 2008, 208). This heterogeneity and spatial control suggest a shift toward a division of space that ultimately segregated individuals and articulated social distinctions manifested through different feasting activities (Letesson and Driessen 2008, 212). The scale and frequency of feasting events, as well as their contexts, changed over time. That is to say, feasting practices changed from sporadic, hierarchical and specialized events to formal, ritualized and controlled events that emphasized homogeneity and communality. The calculative agencies, networks of individuals, institutions, and things, that work to construct the values attributed to oil and wine would have shifted at the same time that commensal events acquired new meaning. The new accessibility of oil and wine to a larger portion of the population through large-scale feasting events might have changed the way that the value of oil and wine was perceived. As enticing commodities, their value does seem to have remained high, overall. These ritualized feasts would have also functioned as a means of solidifying the status of oil and wine as necessary components of any form of communal eating. In one way, providing the opportunity for a larger percentage of the population to experience, desire, and value oil and wine promotes the power of those “in control” of surplus production. As discussed in the conclusion to the chapter, the availability of oil and wine to less elite individuals could have effectively broadened

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dependences and dependencies between people and these two commodities as a wider swath of the population came to expect the presence of oil and wine at certain kinds of feasts and communal events. As we will see in the next chapter, Mycenaean political and ideological structures were adept at exploiting this system. GIFT EXCHANGE: RITUAL AND FUNERARY GIFTS

As discussed in the Introduction, the lines between various types of exchanges are blurred. This fluidity becomes especially evident when discussing “giving” and “gifts.” Indeed, most feasts and commensal exchanges can be interpreted as a form of giving since often participants did not contribute directly to the feast, but instead contributed indirectly or exchanged at some point particular services or goods.20 There are, however, non-commensal situations where giving is the predominant mode of exchange. By non-commensal gift exchange, I mean the offering of wine or oil to someone without the expectation of consuming the commodities oneself or of receiving something immediately in return (as one would in a commercial context).21 Distinguishing between oil and wine containers used for feasting events at sanctuaries and cemeteries versus those objects given as gifts to deities or the deceased is a very difficult, and often impossible task. The evidence for commensal events at these types of locations during the Proto- and Neopalatial eras has been discussed earlier. Here, relatively meager evidence available for the use of oil and wine within contexts of non-commensal gift exchange is presented. There are two categories of evidence for these instances. The first category involves records of transactions between people and deities where the provisions are intended as offerings and not as supplies for feasting or drinking events. The second involves objects associated with oil and wine storage and consumption, such as jars, jugs, cups, and perhaps pyxides (small containers used for unguents/processed oils), deposited within sanctuaries or within tombs as grave offerings.

Oil and Wine as Gifts to Deities? Some Linear A texts represent the distribution of goods, and some of those goods are typical items offered to deities recorded in later Linear B, including oil and wine. Since Linear A is still undeciphered, however, it is impossible to determine whether the same goods were allocated for offerings or other ritual activities such as feasting (Tomas 2010, 128). Nevertheless, it is clear that quantities of oil and wine, sometimes large, sometimes small, are associated with deities. Some of the Haghia Triada tablets have a layout similar to the

GIFT EXCHA NGE: RIT UA L A ND FUNER ARY GIF TS

Linear B Knossian Fs tablets listing offerings, but the Linear A tablets have quantities of goods that are much larger (Schoep 2001, 61). It is possible, therefore, that in the Neopalatial era, larger quantities of oil and wine were given as gifts to the gods, or that these quantities represent commodities as commensal gifts to be used during religious festivals and feasts. The nature of Minoan palatial documentary evidence limits our ability to interpret these texts. As will be discussed in the next chapter, the Linear B documents of the Mycenaean era are much more informative. Many Protopalatial and Neopalatial sanctuaries have produced evidence for storage of agricultural surplus. In addition to the many pithoi recovered from these sites, we find smaller, closed vessels, such as amphoras and jars, some of which would have likely contained oil or wine. Independent sanctuaries with these vessels include Anemospelia, Juktas, Kato Syme, Building B at Arkhanes, Philioremos/Gonies, Karphi/Vigla, Building 4 at Phourni and Kophinas (Kyriakidis 2001, 126–127 with references). In addition, nonindependent sanctuaries also seem to have kept storage of consumables, including the Lower West Court Sanctuary Complex at Phaistos, the Upper West Court Sanctuary Complex at Phaistos, and Quartier 18 at Malia (Kyriakidis 2001, 128 with references). Kyriakidis (2001, 129) suggests that the storage containers present at sanctuaries are evidence for “Religious Storage” comprising the “donation of goods to the supernatural.” If this is the case, then the storage of wine and oil at sanctuaries and cult places is direct evidence of gifts given to the gods. Alternatively, these storage practices might relate to the consumption of these goods during religious feasting events, as discussed earlier. Feasting events could be held to honor deities and can certainly be conceived as gifts (like the later Archaic/Classical practice of theoxenia). Yet, these religious commensal events do not function quite the same way as, for example, libations or offerings in that they are ultimately consumed by the donators. Of course, any foodstuff “given” to a deity, even on a small scale, was most likely consumed by priests and religious officials or stored and later consumed on a larger communal scale. Ultimately, the exact purpose or motivation for the presence of oil and wine storage at Minoan sanctuaries is entirely unclear. Written sources from later eras make clear the importance of surplus oil and wine for libations and offerings to the gods, a topic to which we will return in the following chapters.

Funerary Gifts: Deposition of Oil- and Wine-Related Vessels in Graves Protopalatial-era tombs were often of the tholos type and generally contained more than one interment. The ceramic material deposited within these tombs included a limited range of ceramic shapes, mainly cups, jugs,

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and jars with the appearance of large deposits of ceramics outside the tombs (presumably the remains of funerary feasts). The cups and jugs deposited within the tombs ranged from a few vessels to quite large deposits. This trend was very wide-spread and can be identified at most of the cemeteries throughout all the regions of Crete.22 The deposition of cups, jugs, and jars within tombs seems to indicate that even though the overall assemblage diminished from previous periods, it was nevertheless important to give objects associated with, presumably, wine-drinking. Whether the jugs and jars deposited within tombs contained wine at the time of their deposition is impossible to determine. An overall disappearance of tombs from the archaeological record toward the end of the Protopalatial era has been thoroughly documented and has yet to be sufficiently explained (Legarra Herrero 2014, 159). Neopalatial mortuary behavior used new types of tombs, such as the chamber tombs at Knossos, and the cemeteries were built in new locations and had a very different layout. The identification of archaeobotanical remains has demonstrated that olives and grapes were an ordinary component of funerary assemblages. Olive stones and grape pips have been found in multiple contexts that have been interpreted as offerings to deities or offerings to ancestors (grave goods). At the palace of Zakros, olive remains found in a bowl were interpreted as an offering outside of a funerary context (Platon, 1974; Margaritis 2014, 280). The earliest examples of the incorporation of olives and grapes within funerary rituals date to the third millennium. Elite tombs within the Petras house tombs contain charred olive stones and grape pips (e.g., tomb 5, room 12). The preservation of the seeds suggest that they were not a result of a primary fire destruction rite, but instead the result of a secondary episode leading to deposition in parallel with the human bones (Margaritis 2014, 281). Other evidence comes from a Prepalatial tholos tomb at Livari where fragments of olive stones were found in almost every sample taken, but no other plant remains were recovered. As these stones were not associated with charcoal, they could have been added to the burial rite at a second stage, perhaps specifically as offerings (Margaritis 2014). Although none of these examples are evidence for oil or wine, nor are they evidence for surplus oil or wine, they are nevertheless important for our interpretation of the ceramic containers found within tombs. If whole olives were offered as gifts, there is a higher likelihood that the jars and jugs deposited within tombs would have contained olive oil and wine, rather than another liquid or nothing at all. Admittedly, the Minoan palatial evidence for surplus oil and wine used within the mode of gift exchange is exceedingly small. This paucity might indicate that oil and wine were, in fact, not often given to deities and ancestors as gifts. Rather, surpluses of these commodities were preferably exchanged during commensal events enacted to honor such individuals. This propensity seems to change, however, in later eras when we have much greater archaeological

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2.8 Type 2 oval-mouthed amphora from MM II levels at Quartier Mu, Malia (Poursat and Knappett 2005, pl. 3, no. 29; c. EfA/J.-C. Poursat, neg. L2656-013). Image courtesy of the École Française d’Athènes

and literary evidence for the offering of oil and wine within sanctuary and funerary contexts. COMMERCIAL EXCHANGE: REGIONAL AND LONG DISTANCE

In addition to commensal events, one of the most prominent and archaeologically visible exchange modes in the Minoan era was relatively large-scale trade in bulk (surplus) oil and wine. Starting in the Protopalatial era, oval-mouthed amphoras were used to transport these liquid commodities from one region of Crete to another (Figure 2.8). Comparing the production, distribution, and use of ovalmouthed amphoras during their initial appearance in the Middle Minoan period to patterns in the Neopalatial period bring to the fore significant changes. These changes include a general increase in production volume, widespread distribution at sites of varying hierarchical status, and an increase in their shipment off the island. Combined, I argue that these changes suggest an increase in the value of surplus oil and wine within the commercial economy. In addition, I suggest that the creation seemingly ex-nihilo of a new type of surplus oil and wine container at the beginning of the Neopalatial period,

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(a)

(b)

2.9 Neopalatial transport stirrup jars from Knossos Unexplored Mansion showing (a) loop on shoulder (Popham et al. 1984, pl. 73a, no. KNO 2535_PhA 7842) and (b) third handle (Popham et al. 1984, pl. 74b, no. KNO 2465_PhA 6363). Reproduced with permission of the British School at Athens

the transport stirrup jar, supports the idea that during this period of the Minoan Bronze Age the relationship between people and oil and wine reached a new level of integration (Figure 2.9a, b). The characteristics of the initial

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production, distribution, and use of transport stirrup jars display their high value. They were carefully decorated, labeled, controlled, and imitated outside of Crete, as discussed in more detail later. At the same time, they seem to have been immediately used for long-distance exchange. This labeling and the pattern of distribution of transport stirrup jars highlight the influence of the elites as they attempted to control value through specialization and innovation. Yet by introducing a complicated and elaborate container for surplus oil and wine, these same people were creating a more complicated network of interaction that included the people who produced the extra surplus, the people who produced the specialized containers, and the people who transported them on ships over long distances.

Regional Trade Practices from the Proto- to Neopalatial Eras Increases in the scale and volume of intra-island oil and wine trade from the Protopalatial era to the Neopalatial era were the result of increased demand to supply island-wide networks connected to the Neopalatial palaces. These changes made oil and wine more critical to the functioning of the economy than in previous eras. It is possible to see these changes in trade practices through the archaeological record using large ceramic transport containers as proxies for the liquids they once carried. Specifically, in the Neopalatial era, it is possible to discern an increase in the scale of transport container production and an increase in the number of production locations. At the same time, the characteristics of their production support the notion that control over ovalmouthed amphoras was decentralized in nature. At the same time, the distribution of these containers increases in scale during the Neopalatial era, especially between major centers of the island. Oval-Mouthed Amphora Production and Regional Distribution. The most common ceramic container used for interregional bulk commodity shipments during the Protopalatial and Neopalatial eras was the oval-mouthed amphora.23 Although the Protopalatial era saw the production of ovalmouthed amphoras at a few locations throughout the island, during the Neopalatial era there is a significant increase in the number of production locations and the overall number of vessels found at Cretan sites (see Pratt 2016a). At the same time, the shape itself remained relatively unchanged. Specifically, the oval-mouthed amphora has an ovoid body that varies from ovoid-conical to ovoid-piriform and has a flat base (Poursat and Knappett 2005, 39–43). The shoulder is incurving to a narrow neck, and vertical roll handles are attached at the shoulder and rim. The rim itself is pinched in at the attachment of the two opposite handles, thereby producing an oval or even bilobate mouth (Mountjoy 2003, 52). The decoration on oval-mouthed amphoras ranges from

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purely linear ornament (i.e., banding) to simple floral motifs and can be darkon-light or light-on-dark, though the former is more common. The majority of ovoid-conical oval-mouthed amphoras, the most common variety, are between 30 and 45 cm tall with a capacity of 10–15 liters.24 Production of oval-mouthed amphoras in the Protopalatial era seems to have been very localized. Petrographic analyses have demonstrated that many regions of Crete produced their own oval-mouthed amphoras, including the area around the Mirabello Bay, the Mesara plain, the south coast, the palatial site of Malia, and perhaps the palatial site of Petras (Day 1991, 1995, 1997; Poursat and Knappett 2005; Haggis 2007). Despite quite disparate production locations, Protopalatial oval-mouthed amphoras retained a high level of uniformity in decoration, form, and size. That oval-mouthed amphoras in various ceramic fabrics are found at Protopalatial sites throughout the island suggests a vigorous exchange of commodities between different regions. These vessels are found concentrated in administrative centers and prominent settlements, but are also present in smaller villages (e.g., Haggis and Mook 1993). Protopalatial era sites have produced a relatively high number of examples, but their distributions within the sites differ. For example, while the majority of oval-mouthed amphoras found at Phaistos are concentrated within the courtcentered building itself, at Malia most examples have been found in the storage rooms of Quartier Mu.25 The extraordinary efforts to identify and quantify the imports at Malia has led to the conclusion that of the seventy-one ovalmouthed amphoras recovered from these Quartier Mu rooms, twenty-six were locally produced, seventeen were made in the Mirabello region, eleven in the Mesara, and twelve along the south Coast.26 In addition, thirty-six ovalmouthed amphoras have been found within the Protopalatial settlement at the port town of Kommos, where the oval-mouthed amphora was the most common storage vessel (Betancourt 1990, 31). Palaikastro has also produced some oval-mouthed amphoras in Protopalatial contexts, although in smaller quantities. Many examples at Palaikastro are handmade in a local fabric with distinctive bichrome decoration. This site has also produced examples of imported amphoras, including some in Mirabello fabric (Knappett and Cunningham 2012, 100, 201). The high volume and wide distribution of ovalmouthed amphoras originating from multiple regions of the island, as exemplified thus far by Malia, highlight their position as the favored regional transport container in the Protopalatial era. Indeed, a recently discovered shipwreck off Pseira Island dated to MM IIB corroborates this assertion since at least forty-seven oval-mouthed amphoras were found at the site (Hadjidaki and Betancourt 2005–2006; Bonn-Muller 2010). These oval-mouthed amphoras were made in at least two different east Cretan fabrics, representing products most likely destined for local east-west “coast-hopping” trade (P. Betancourt, quoted in Bonn-Muller 2010).

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The following Neopalatial era witnessed an increase in localized production of oval-mouthed amphoras, coinciding with the increased demand for surplus oil and wine by palatial centers. Although significant differences in pottery production and circulation existed between the different periods within the Neopalatial era (MM III, LM IA, and LM IB),27 the typology of oval-mouthed amphoras nevertheless remained relatively unchanged. In addition to consistency in typology, the localized production of oval-mouthed amphoras increased in the Neopalatial era and included sites such as Petras, Palaikastro, Zakros, the Mirabello region, and various locations in central Crete (Day 1997, 221, 224–26). It seems that while each of the major coastal towns had at least one center of ceramic production that supplied many sites in the surrounding hinterland, there was also a complex pattern of imported goods from elsewhere on the island (Day 1997, 226). This pattern continues from the Protopalatial era but increases in scale. Many sites have produced oval-mouthed amphoras in at least two distinct fabrics, demonstrating an intensive trade in bulk commodities at this time. For example, central Cretan oval-mouthed amphoras were found at a diverse range of sites including Riza, Klimataria and Petras, as well as Makrygialos, Diaskari, Gournia, and Pseira (Day 1997, 224–26). In addition, an oval-mouthed amphora from Pseira, as well as one at Palaikastro, was manufactured in Zakros clay, showing a possible coastal trade route (Day 1997, 227 n. 46; Knappett and Cunningham 2012, 213). Despite the destructions at the end of MM III and the changes due, in part, to the Theran eruption in LM IA, consumption of oval-mouthed amphoras continued to be relatively large-scale and widespread at both palatial and nonpalatial sites (Driessen and Macdonald 1997; Driessen 2013). Oval-mouthed amphoras are well represented in the MM III levels at the court-centered buildings at Galatas, Knossos, and Phaistos, as well as the town of Palaikastro and the villas at Alonaki and Haghia Triada. In LM IA period contexts, ovalmouthed amphoras have been found at Galatas, Knossos, and Palaikastro, as well as Papadiokampos and Pitsidia. Finally, oval-mouthed amphoras are frequently present in many destruction contexts dated to the end of LM IB including Knossos, Galatas, Kommos, Mochlos, Karoumes, Papadiokampos, and Pitsidia (Pratt 2016a). The quantities of oval-mouthed amphoras at each different type of site remain relatively consistent throughout the three Neopalatial periods, with some sites standing out more than others. This consistency supports the idea that Minoan economic networks remained remarkably resilient despite the multiple setbacks encountered during the Neopalatial era (Knappett et al. 2011). The central position of Knossos both before and after the Theran eruption, for example, is demonstrated by the large number of oval-mouthed amphoras published and mentioned in excavation reports (Hatzaki 2007a, 192–193).28 Similarly, at Kommos, it is noted that during the MM III period

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the oval-mouthed amphora remains relatively popular and the number of ovalmouthed amphoras recovered from Palaikastro in Neopalatial contexts is significantly greater than in contexts of the preceding Protopalatial era (Betancourt 1990, 39). It seems that while estimating the varying frequencies of oval-mouthed amphoras in relative terms between the Protopalatial and Neopalatial eras on Crete is not straightforward, we may nevertheless see a continuation of the vessel’s distribution at both palatial and non-palatial sites throughout the island and an increase in the overall frequency of the shape at these sites. The increased scale of production, more production locations, and increased scale of distribution networks within the island and between major centers was, I suggest, a response to an increase in demand to supply island-wide networks attached to palaces. These practices resulted in oil and wine becoming even more critical to the functioning of the economy and maintenance of social activities. The patterns of production presented here, with almost every regional center producing its own oval-mouthed amphoras, but also exchanging with others, suggests a localized production strategy. In a localized mode of production, fabric sources of a particular type of vessel are variable between regions, coinciding with the disparate locations of producers who are meeting the needs of their own settlements and some neighbors.29 A localized mode of production for oval-mouthed amphoras, coupled with their complex distribution patterns, suggests that many regions produced local vessels, filled them with local produce, and shipped them to various other sites on the island. Indeed, many of the pressing contexts mentioned earlier are associated with amphoras: Phourni (LM I), Vathypetro (LM IA), Palaikastro (LM IB), Kato Zakros (two presses dated to LM IB). It is particularly relevant that these presses are located in different types of contexts: a cemetery, a rural villa, a non-palatial town, and a palatial town. In the case presented here, the localized production strategy of oval-mouthed amphoras, with many non-palatial settlements producing their own versions, suggests that the administration located at the palace centers did not have direct control over production.

Protopalatial to Neopalatial: Long-Distance Exchange In addition to the increase in amphora production and the expansion of intraisland distribution networks during the Neopalatial era, there is also an exponential increase in long-distance overseas trade. This change reinforced the status of oil and wine as critical to the functioning of the economy. Archaeological evidence suggests a general increase in long-distance overseas trade and supports a particular interest in shipping large quantities of oil and wine. Specifically, a new type of transport container, the transport stirrup jar,

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was created at the beginning of the Neopalatial era and was immediately used to ship bulk quantities of oil and wine to the Aegean islands, the Greek mainland, and the Anatolian coast. The early features and characteristics of transport stirrup jars, and their imitation outside of Crete, support the idea that the liquids contained within the vessels were considered of increased value. Intensified Trade Networks. Between the Protopalatial and Neopalatial eras there seems to be a “fundamental metamorphosis” in the character of southern Aegean interaction (Knappett and Nikolakopoulou 2005, 175). Instead of a gradual increase in exportation of Minoan wares, there is a sudden change sometime during the MM IIIA period. At Akrotiri on Thera, Minoan imports jump from only 2.5 percent of the ceramics in representative deposits dated to MM IA–II to 11.5 percent during MM IIIA and increase from there (Knappett and Nikolakopoulou 2005, 176). The same pattern is visible at Miletus on the western Anatolian coast. Minoan imports make up about 2 percent of the pottery until after MM IIB when imports and imitations increase substantially. The types of imported Cretan wares at both Akrotiri and Miletus are generally related to feasting: drinking, pouring, and storage vessels. These types remain relatively constant throughout the different phases, but with a greater range during the Neopalatial era. Imitation of Cretan wares at Akrotiri and Miletus coincide with the sudden burst of imported material. By LM IA there is considerable local manufacture of Minoanizing wares at Miletus. The rise of Knossos as a major hub in interregional networks might have had a significant impact on the existing exchange networks. Indeed, it has been suggested that the beginning of the Neopalatial era marked the development of “affiliation networks” beyond the traditional exchange networks (Knappett and Nikolakopoulou 2005, 181). These affiliation networks were directed outward from Crete, with little reciprocal influence from the islands or Anatolian coast. Intensified Trade Using Amphoras. Whatever the precise mechanisms through which these networks flourished, it is nevertheless clear that a significant increase in Cretan oil and wine production was necessary to fulfill the increase in external demand. It is therefore not surprising that one of the best-represented types of exported vessels from Crete was the ovalmouthed amphora. While a few Cretan oval-mouthed amphoras had made their way outside Crete in the Protopalatial era to places such as Miletus (Raymond 2005, pl. XLVIc) and Ayia Irini (Overbeck 1989, 100 no. AQ-41, pl. 61; 103 no. AR-22, pl. 62), the expanded Neopalatial Minoan network increased its shipment abroad significantly. Cretan oval-mouthed amphoras and their imitations have been found on a few islands including Thera (Marinatos 1968–1976, vol. 1, 32, fig. 44, 45, pl. B, 7–8; vol. 2, 38, fig. 23;

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vol. 4, 35 pl. 66a-b; vol. 7, 29 pl. 43d; Nikolakopoulou 2009, 34), Melos (Atkinson and Bosanquet 1904, 136, 172, pl. XXVII, 2; Renfrew et al. 2007, 252–56), Keos (Cummer and Schofield 1984, 112 no. 1319, pl. 80, 117 no. 1414, pl. 80, 124 no. 1533–38, pl. 83), and Kos (Morricone 1972–1973, 164, fig. 277).30 Neopalatial oval-mouthed amphoras have also been identified on the Greek mainland at Pylos (Blegen 1954, pl. 38a) and Mycenae (Furtwängler 1879, 8, pl. XI, 600, fig. 441; Wace 1932, 79 no. 5, pl. XLII). In addition, one Neopalatial oval-mouthed amphora was found on a shipwreck off the Laconian coast of the Greek mainland (Spondylis 2012) and about ten fragments of these vessels have been recovered from the Egyptian site of ‘Ezbet Rushdi (Czerny 1998, 46, fig. 21). Compared to their Protopalatial-era distribution, oval-mouthed amphoras of the Neopalatial era, along with their liquid contents, were shipped to the most important nodes within the broader southeast Aegean exchange network. Invention of a Specialized Container: The Transport Stirrup Jar. Sometime in the MM III period, while the oval-mouthed amphora was popular, the transport stirrup jar, a new bulk liquid transport container, was invented. Like its later descendant (Furumark Shape 164), the early transport stirrup jar was a closed vessel form with a narrow, tapering or cylindrical neck rendered “false” by being capped with a solid clay disk, the true spout being attached separately at the shoulder.31 Two vertical handles are located to either side of the false neck, attached at the lower shoulder and at opposite sides of the disk. It is clear that early transport stirrup jars, like a few oval-mouthed amphoras, moved off-island (Haskell 1985, 225). In fact, a small coarse Cretan stirrup jar found in a Period V context at Ayia Irini on Keos can be dated as early as MM III, roughly contemporaneous with the vessel’s invention (Haskell 1985, 222, no. 4). This immediate exportation may suggest that transport stirrup jars were created specifically for longer-distance transport. In addition, early transport stirrup jars are recovered in almost equal numbers on Aegean islands as on Crete. Even by the end of the Neopalatial era the transport stirrup jar was still found in fairly limited numbers on Crete, albeit at a large number of sites (see later). On the islands, as on Crete, transport stirrup jars are frequently found alongside amphoras, both of which were made in similar sizes (Haskell 1985, 224). For example, on Thera, both vessel types are recorded from living areas and storerooms (Haskell 1985, 227; household: no. 23, storeroom: nos. 19–22). It is also informative that all contemporary neighboring cultures of the eastern Mediterranean, such as the Canaanites and Egyptians, maintained the use of amphoras for their transport needs, both local and longdistance.32 This juxtaposition might suggest a deliberate choice to retain the oval-mouthed amphora for interregional Cretan transport, as opposed to intra-

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Aegean transport, for which the transport stirrup jar may have been specifically designated. There are a few features of the transport stirrup jar’s production and use that suggest their heightened value relative to the oval-mouthed amphora. These features include a complicated production technique, the addition of labeling mechanisms, and their restricted distributions. The introduction of transport stirrup jars in MM III could represent a sign of a different concept of palatial economy otherwise signified by changes in architecture, settlement layout, and iconography, among other things (e.g., Driessen 2001, Driessen and Schoep 1995, Macdonald and Knappett 2013). In the Neopalatial era, transport stirrup jars remained specialized containers restricted to elite contexts, possibly functioning as a prestige item. The transport stirrup jar was a very complicated vessel to make. When compared to the contemporary oval-mouthed amphora, there were multiple extra steps needed to create the transport stirrup jar, including the creation of a narrow neck, its cap, and the addition of a true spout on the shoulder. While later Cretan transport stirrup jars are consistently made of medium-coarse to coarse fabrics, early transport stirrup jars could be produced in comparatively fine fabrics despite their designated use as transport containers (Ben-Shlomo et al. 2011, 331). As is clear from the discovery of failed attempts to create these pots, a potter would have had to possess specialized knowledge to produce these complicated vessels. The exact origins or prototypes of transport stirrup jars are unclear, which suggests that it truly is a product invented at the beginning of the Neopalatial era by contemporary potters (Haskell 1985). Additionally, Neopalatial transport stirrup jars commonly exhibited a number of interesting features, including pierced holes through the extended edges of the jar’s false neck disk (e.g., Shaw 1981, pl. 51b), and a very small loop on the shoulder (Figure 2.9a), both of which could have functioned as features intended to facilitate the attachment of labels (Haskell 1985, 223). These were not air-holes as they did not go through into the neck. These features were not necessarily included on all transport stirrup jars from this early period but seem to have been very common and were generally limited to the Neopalatial and Monopalatial eras. Early transport stirrup jars also had the option of a functional third handle and “spout horns,” small, curved projections on the spout that were most likely used to strap down the stopper. When taken together, these features seem to indicate a certain desire to carefully control the contents of transport stirrup jars and clearly mark their ownership (Haskell 1985, 223). In addition to ownership or labeling features, most Neopalatial transport stirrup jars are elaborately decorated in floral or abstract designs. This is in contrast to oval-mouthed amphoras, the majority of which have simple decoration (Pratt 2016a, fig. 3). The controlling features and decoration of transport stirrup jars, in contrast to the contemporary oval-mouthed amphora, suggest that transport

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stirrup jars and their contents were highly valued within the context of oil and wine trade in the Neopalatial era. Another indication for the high value afforded transport stirrup jars and their contents is the immediate desire to create imitations of these vessels outside of Crete. For example, a few transport stirrup jars from Thera appear to be locally produced, suggesting not only that these new vessels were exported from Crete, but also that they were quickly imitated on islands that were already exhibiting signs of significant Minoan influence. Many of the locally produced stirrup jars found at Akrotiri have strange production techniques and additional features that suggest a sort of experimentation when trying to reproduce the shape (Haskell 2016). This imitation suggests a strong demand for this vessel shape, perhaps as an identifying marker of a particular liquid commodity or as a status symbol reflecting the high value attributed to transport stirrup jars and their contents (Haskell 1985, 225). Compared to the widespread production and distribution of oval-mouthed amphoras in the Neopalatial era, the production and distribution of the nascent transport stirrup jar seems relatively restricted. Cretan transport stirrup jars in the Neopalatial era are found in small numbers and mainly confined to palaces (Malia, Zakros, Phaistos, Knossos, Galatas), important coastal settlements (Mochlos, Kommos, Gournia, Palaikastro, Khania) and elite villas (Haghia Triada, Vathypetro, Skinias) on the island (Pratt 2016a, table 3). This distribution may support the idea that right from the beginning, transport stirrup jars were highly regulated and controlled, possibly even associated with Cretan palatial administration. Indeed, it is interesting that the transport stirrup jar appears in MM III just as Knossos is establishing its primacy architecturally and artistically, perhaps indicating the transport stirrup jar’s place within a Cretan political framework. Although more work is needed to fully understand this phenomenon, the relatively high number of early transport stirrup jars at Knossos and their continued use into the LM II period may contribute to this idea. Moreover, the contexts in which early transport stirrup jars are found frequently include oval-mouthed amphoras, perhaps suggesting that the transport stirrup jar and the amphora served similar functions, as transport containers, from the moment transport stirrup jars were invented (Haskell 1985, 223). For example, both transport stirrup jars and oval-mouthed amphoras are found at Palaikastro (Bosanquet et al. 1902–1903, 283), Zakros (Platon 1971, 170, one of the ten “amphoras” is a stirrup jar), and Knossos (Catling et al. 1979; Hatzaki 2007a, 193). Although spatial proximity alone would not indicate identical functions, the similarities in range of size and physical attributes between the two types of containers reinforce this idea. A clear shift in the pattern of transport container distribution occurred in the Neopalatial era. Namely, an increase in the overall quantity of containers in circulation and the invention of the transport stirrup jar (Table 2.3).

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table 2.3 Minimum number of oval-mouthed amphoras and transport stirrup jars found at large Minoan sites

Knossos Malia Palaikastro Phaistos

Oval-mouthed amphora Protopalatial

Oval-mouthed amphora Neopalatial

Transport stirrup jar Neopalatial

13 80 7 55

72+

17 1 4 10

41+ 26

See Pratt 2016, Tables 1–4 for citations.

Intimately connected to these changes is the increasing prominence of central-court buildings. The patterns in oval-mouthed amphora production and distribution observed for the Protopalatial era continued relatively unchanged into the Neopalatial era. Moreover, the distribution of ovalmouthed amphoras at all types of sites, from palaces to farmhouses, supports the idea that palaces did not have control over who could have access to the commodities stored within. Yet, it becomes particularly clear in the Neopalatial era that the palaces became increasingly involved in commercial exchanges of surplus oil and wine. At this point, the palaces increased their storage capacities and seem to be intimately connected to the invention of the transport stirrup jar. The restricted distribution of transport stirrup jars to elite contexts suggests that they and their contents might have been particularly valued within the realm of commercial exchange. The effort to restrict and control transport stirrup jars, and presumably their contents, in the Neopalatial era is in stark contrast to the following Mycenaean era when these vessels lose their labeling devices and elaborate decoration and are instead mass-produced and found throughout the eastern Mediterranean, a topic that will be addressed in the following chapter. In its initial production, therefore, perhaps the shape was intimately associated with elite activity, and was consequently also a symbol of social power. It is certain, however, that transport stirrup jars were not immediately adopted for widespread use and that the numbers of oval-mouthed amphoras in use on the island remained consistent. This dual nature of bulk liquid commodity trade in the Neopalatial era indicates the changing values associated with oil and wine and their place within the Minoan economy. As both local and regional exchange networks expanded due to palatial demand, there was an increase in production of the commodities themselves and the containers needed to ship them. In addition, it seems that exchange modes in the Neopalatial era required varying qualities or types of oil and wine, as perhaps indicated by ligatured signs on the oil and wine

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ideograms of Linear A, the invention of the transport stirrup jar, and the varying degrees of elaborate decoration on containers. For example, the stirrup jar might have, at least originally, been intended to hold a particular type or quality of oil or wine, carefully labelled through attached tags. Patterns of decoration on oval-mouthed amphoras and stirrup jars tend to overlap between containers and sites. It is not inconceivable that these patterns once held some meaning to the observer. Moreover, that palatial and other sites with many stirrup jars and oval-mouthed amphoras have collections of these jars from various production locations on the island might also indicate the collection of different types and qualities of these commodities. These types and qualities of surplus wine and oil, shipped in either oval-mouthed amphoras or transport stirrup jars, indicate the existence of multiple levels within a thriving exchange network throughout the Neopalatial era. CHAPTER CONCLUSIONS

According to the principles outlined in the Introduction, a cultural commodity is born out of the development of increasing links of dependency and the continuous perception of that thing as high value. When the value of something remains high within the context of exchange, that thing retains its stability within an entanglement. It retains its place. When something becomes necessary for the functioning of an exchange, and not just sufficient or convenient, then that thing transitions from a level of dependence to one of dependency. That is, when value and necessity are aligned, the relationship transitions to a relatively inescapable bond. The changing patterns in the way something is exchanged expose the configurations of value attributed to that thing. Through archaeological remains of exchange contexts, it is possible to trace those changing patterns. How then does this idea of changing exchange patterns exposing changing values and dependency apply to oil and wine in the Minoan palatial eras? Based on a synthetic view of the evidence, we can see meaningful changes to patterns in the scale, context, and characteristics of exchange modes from the Protopalatial era to the Neopalatial era which, when considered together, might indicate the changing ways the high value of oil and wine was constructed. At the same time, significantly, the evidence also indicates that a larger portion of the population participated in the exchange of both commodities. Commensal events changed in nature from sporadic, open events located primarily in cemeteries during the Protopalatial era to frequent, regulated events that strived to emphasize community while solidifying hierarchies during the Neopalatial era.33 The various forms of evidence for these changes include a huge increase in the relative proportion of drinking vessels in pottery assemblages; vast deposits of drinking cups numbering in the many thousands,

CHAPTER CONCLUSIONS

some deposited in a ritualized, structured way; the presence of many wine installations; the recording of large numbers of drinking cups in Linear A tablets (e.g., HT 31 from Haghia Triada lists 3,700 conical cups); and the arrangement of public space, with the existence of many open and formally constructed and organized plazas and courts (Rutter 2004; Girella 2007; Hamilakis and Sherratt 2012, 192). The very beginning of the Neopalatial era, the MM III period, is the initial stage in which emerging groups began to put emphasis on banqueting habits as an instrument in creating selective affiliations or asserting distance between hosts and guests. Wine and oil, once restricted commodities available to the few, soon became accessible to the many. But this accessibility was perhaps regulated and restricted to special events. In this way, wine and oil continued to be facilitators of hierarchical distinctions despite the apparent openness of participation. This range of access is what allowed the value of wine and oil to remain high at the same time that both commodities were perhaps introduced or solidified within the experiences of many more inhabitants of Neopalatial Crete. Changes to the patterns in commercial exchange from the Protopalatial to the Neopalatial eras can also be interpreted as an indication of the elaboration of cultural values surrounding the importance of oil and wine. The Neopalatial era saw both an exponential increase in overseas trade and the introduction of the transport stirrup jar. This new liquid transport container was produced and used in a manner very different from the oval-mouthed amphora, which continued to be in circulation alongside the new transport stirrup jar. Features of early transport stirrup jars, such as its complicated construction and various controlling features, hint at the special nature of this container and its contents. In contrast to the oval-mouthed amphora, the restricted distribution of transport stirrup jars to upper echelon sites suggests that it was intimately connected to the higher spectrum of social hierarchy. Moreover, it seems that transport stirrup jars, unlike the oval-mouthed amphoras, were used to ship commodities overseas immediately. At the same time, imitations found at island and Anatolian sites imply that the container (and its contents) had a different kind of reputation. Indeed, the contents seem to have been so valued within Crete and the broader Aegean that it was necessary to imitate these strange vessels to convey the same information. In this way, transport stirrup jars became a kind of “brand” for Neopalatial Crete (see Wengrow 2008, Bevan 2010). This brand, as a representation of the liquid contents, only increased in value during the following Mycenaean palatial era, to which we will return in the next chapter. We can, therefore, see significant shifts in the patterns of commensal and commercial exchange during the Neopalatial era, which strongly indicate an elaboration of the value of oil and wine within newly constructed cultural contexts.

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But how do we see dependence? Perhaps, instead, it is more plausible to look for a transition from dependence to dependency – that inescapability, which comes about when increased value and need come together. It must be acknowledged immediately that there is no sure way to prove the presence of dependency through archaeological material. For example, merely finding a handful of cowry shells in a Papua New Guinea household would in no way relate their significance. Without oral narratives and eye-witness accounts we would be completely ignorant of the value attributed to such shells and the absolute necessity to own them for the most important exchanges (such as marriage; Lederman 1986, 86–87; Allibert 2000). While this is a historically unrelated example, it nevertheless hints at the complicated relationship people have with things and things with people. Dependency is perhaps easier to understand when dealing with matters of life and death. Houseplants are dependent upon people to give them water. Both plants and people are dependent upon the sun for photosynthesis and vitamin D. One would die without the existence of the other (Schöttker et al. 2014). Such connections of dependency are easier to agree upon. For the Minoan palatial era, a relationship of dependency between domesticated olive trees and grapevines and people is easier to accept than a relationship of dependency between palatial authorities and surplus oil and wine. I suggest, however, that it is nevertheless possible to see such relationships of dependency. Indeed, this transition from dependence to dependency between people and oil and wine is visible not through examining one relationship, but through the patterns produced over many. It is the increase in scale, not just in feasting events, but also in production, storage, and amphora distribution, that conveys some underlying connection. What I suggest is that there is a strong correlation between these increases in scale and the transition from a relationship of dependence to one of dependency. Yet, at the same time, the relationship becomes circular – it perpetuates the dependency. The increase in scale of exchange necessitates more oil and wine. The response is a production of more oil and wine. The availability of more oil and wine promotes the use of both commodities within more types and contexts of exchange. Yet, at the same time, I do not think that the reasoning is circular. That is, dependency might result in production, but production does not necessarily result in dependency. Just because something is produced does not mean it automatically becomes necessary for exchanges. Again, this is where the value of oil and wine must remain high in order for a relationship of dependency to develop. Given that the value of oil and wine remained high during the Neopalatial era at the same time that the relationship between people and oil and wine transitioned from one of dependence to dependency, how can we describe this entanglement? The Introduction suggested that it is possible to visualize the variation in centralization and scale of entanglements by means of an x–y grid

CHAPTER CONCLUSIONS

(Figure 1.1). Points on this grid would reflect the nature of the entanglement at a given moment in time. Since entanglements are not a static fact, but a continually changing dynamic relationship, it is impossible to categorize them into rigid typologies. For the Neopalatial era, the entanglement could be characterized as decentralized and relatively large scale (see Figure 1.2). The entanglement is decentralized since the dependency between people and things is not initiated, controlled, or sustained because of a particular node in the network gaining centrality. In other words, the binding dependencies were not generated or regulated by, say, a central authority, but rather the central authority supports and reinforces such connections. While the authorities connected to the operations of the central-court buildings did indeed affect the degree to which people (farmers, landowners, press owners, potters, central authorities, merchants, etc.) and things (grapevines, olive trees, presses, pots, boats, etc.) depended upon each other, they did not directly control the majority of production or exchange. Instead, the central authorities were dependent upon a steady supply of oil and wine to be used in exchange modes such as feasting and commercial trade. Their dependency, in turn, acted as a driving demand for the increased production of oil and wine. There are a few patterns in the archaeological record that support the presence of a larger-scale and relatively decentralized entanglement in the Minoan Neopalatial era. For production of oil and wine, the increase in number of identifiable wine presses during the Neopalatial period was concentrated in non-palatial contexts. However, these non-palatial contexts included larger urban houses and large rural villas, suggesting that wealthy landowners, who were not necessarily outside the reach of the central authority, were involved. Moreover, the nature of Neopalatial Linear A administration archives suggests that central authorities did not closely regulate land allocation or agricultural production, as we know to be the case for the following Mycenaean era. This evidence might indicate that although the central authorities had a significant stake in the production of surplus of both liquids, they did not fully control their production or distribution. Instead, vine and olive tree cultivation was relatively widespread on the island and regional production was common. Exchange contexts for oil and wine exhibit similar patterns. Feasting events, although often conceived as connected to palatial authorities, were nevertheless performed in both palatial and non-palatial contexts. The evidence for commensal events presented within this chapter highlights the large deposits and designated buildings at non-palatial sites, such as Mochlos, Kommos, and Palaikastro. At the same time, there is no denying that large-scale feasting events took place in palatial contexts and seem to have been highly regulated. This dichotomy is made especially clear when compared to the patterns in feasting remains visible from the Prepalatial and Protopalatial eras. Before the

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Neopalatial era, large-scale commensal events requiring large quantities of surplus oil and wine seem to have been more homogenous in nature and concentrated in funerary contexts. For commercial exchange, both palatial and non-palatial sites were highly integrated within the same trade networks. Oval-mouthed amphoras were produced in many regions of the island beginning in the Protopalatial period around the same time as the construction of the first court-centered buildings, but before any distinct “palatial” authority.34 The regions producing amphoras, and presumably their liquid products, also coincide with the locations of many of these early palatial structures (Malia, Zakros, Petras, Mesara, Knossos), as well as prominent villas. Patterns of consumption and distribution suggest that early palaces probably did not exercise any particular authority in this sphere of the economy. For example, distribution patterns imply that exchange was occurring along the south coast between the Mesara region and Myrtos independently of Malia, the site which seems to have had some (political?) connection to Myrtos (Knappett 1999, 632). What this suggests is an independent economic pattern in which goods were exchanged along various routes irrespective of political authority. As discussed earlier, this practice of trading surplus commodities among each region of the island continued relatively unchanged into the Neopalatial era, with the addition of still more regional products. This inter-island oil and wine trade supports the idea of relatively heterarchical corporate polities interacting with each other. At the same time, the invention of the transport stirrup jar at the beginning of the Neopalatial era and its connection to the court-centered buildings and overseas trade suggests that the palaces were in no way excluded from commercial exchange of oil and wine. Rather, they participated alongside other political entities. Overall, therefore, the evidence for production and exchange of surplus oil and wine in the Minoan palatial eras presents an interesting paradox. On the one hand, the authorities presiding over the central-court buildings did not directly control the production or exchange of these commodities. Instead, the evidence points to independent, though wealthy, people having the ability to control their own vineyards and olive groves, process their own fruit, and perhaps exchange their own oil and wine. On the other hand, however, it is clear that the central authorities had some means of interaction with these producers in a way that benefited the palaces. The ability to mass-produce amphoras along with oil and wine to fill those amphoras was dependent on the presence of a relatively strong central authority capable of presenting opportunities for labor conscription and exchange outlets – internal and external trade, harbors, boats, and so on. After all, the palatial storage magazines, Linear A tablets recording thousands of liters of oil and wine, and the remnants of palatial feasts, all suggest the central-court buildings played a significant role in the exchange of these two commodities. The influence of both non-palatial and palatial people and things on the production and exchange

CHAPTER CONCLUSIONS

of surplus oil and wine thus supports the characterization of the Neopalatial entanglement as relatively decentralized. Yet, the question still remains: why did a decentralized entanglement exist at this point in time? Ultimately, the dependency between people, oil, and wine that came about during the Neopalatial era may be viewed as the result of a shift in social structure from the Protopalatial era. Three new factors present from the beginning of the Neopalatial era seem to have affected value and dependency: namely, the increased centrality of palaces, the rise of Knossos as a dominant influence, and the increasing competition between elites. The construction of palaces at the start of the Neopalatial era corresponds with a moment of population increase after a period of stress. The Minoan “state” could therefore be viewed as an organizational response to sociopolitical circumstances rather than as a social type (Knappett 1999, 618). The sociopolitical circumstances seem to have included open tension and competition between different groups that made up society. The central-court buildings may therefore be considered the result of “community related practices, bottom-up processes and collective corporate actions” where construction of a central building reinforced collective group identity and stability, previously manifested through funerary complexes (Driessen forthcoming, 19). As discussed earlier, this change coincided with alterations to feasting practices which shifted from openly accessible funerary contexts in the Protopalatial era to frequently occurring, regulated, and structured events that required steady supplies of surplus oil and wine. At the same time that court-centered buildings were constructed throughout the island, one in particular came to acquire significance above the others – Knossos. The rise of Knossos to cultural dominance over most of the island seems to have had a hand in constructing the high value attributed to oil and wine, and it may have contributed to the need for oil and wine in prominent exchange modes. During the first part of the Neopalatial era, Knossos seems to have acted as a major economic hub, channeling the regional networks of Crete outward to other islands and to the west coast of Anatolia (Knappett and Nikolakopoulou 2005, 182). Certainly, Knossos had a hand in the expansion of surplus oil/wine shipped to locations outside Crete. In addition, it seems that Knossos was instrumental in the invention and retention of the transport stirrup jar, which became the dominant transport container for oil and wine, even after the collapse of the Minoan palatial era. It does seem, however, that Knossos’s hegemony was not absolute over the entire island. The extent of Knossian influence over the island is highly debated (Popham et al. 1984; Langohr 2009; Macdonald and Knappett 2013). It is likely that local autonomy in some economic activities coexisted with an “overarching (Knossian) control in other (ideological) spheres” (Knappett 1999, 638). This variation in control would support the idea of a decentralized entanglement at this point in time.

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While Knossos certainly influenced the production of surplus oil and wine and benefited from its exchange, there is no evidence to suggest that it controlled the process. Indeed, by the end of the Neopalatial era after the disruptions accompanying the Theran eruption, Knossos’s economic and ideological control seems to have faded, allowing local power groups to manage their own economic affairs (Driessen and Macdonald 1997). The last social factor that may have influenced the degree of dependency between people, oil, and wine is the introduction of increased competition between elites throughout the Neopalatial era. Indeed, it has been speculated that increased competition might have ultimately contributed to the downfall of Minoan society (Driessen 2010, 55). Certainly, by the end of the era, after the Theran eruption, social, economic, and political unrest would have led to opportunities for elites to gain power. For Zakros, the crisis provoked by the eruption does not seem to have resulted in a contestation of the authority of the local leading groups. It may have given them the opportunity to increase their power and consolidate a dominant position. What we see is the emergence of more complex and clearly hierarchical forms of social and political organization, manifested by referencing Knossian styles, norms, and ideologies.35 These forms of social competition would have led to the desire to display dominance and wealth through commensal events and through control of overseas trade. Both of these activities would have required significant amounts of surplus oil and wine, leading to an increase in dependency. The dramatic increase in feasting activities has been linked to extreme fragmentation of the social and political landscape of the Neopalatial era (Hamilakis 2002). Moreover, Neopalatial settings of commensal events, characterized by architectural elaboration and diverse “poles of convergence,” may have eventually promoted increasing tension through categorization and segmentation, rather than communality (Letesson and Driessen 2008, 212). Therefore, not only the event itself, but its contexts, supported increasing tensions. Oil and wine can therefore be used as “barometers” of social instabilities, rather than indicators of flourishing civilization (Hamilakis 1999, 50). Hence, elites during the Neopalatial era would have depended upon the constant supply of surplus oil and wine to facilitate their legitimacy as rulers. The rituals and commensal politics involved with the consumption of both liquids would have served to emphasize the status of the individuals partaking in the events, whether that status was high or low. From a broader perspective, one could ask why the entanglement between people and oil and wine in the Minoan palatial era matters to the greater trajectory of Greek history. The answer is that this era marked the beginning of a never-ending relationship of dependency surrounding the production and exchange of oil and wine. This “moment” (historically speaking) was the “point of no return,” the entrapment that would hold Greek people together with oil and wine to the point where their identities melded into each other. In

CHAPTER CONCLUSIONS

response, one could say that Crete is an isolated case. Yet, the reality is that the Minoan palatial era started a chain reaction of dependency through elaboration of cultural values related to essential exchange contexts that continued into the Mycenaean palatial era, reached up to northern Greece (a place where wine had already existed), and continued into the Iron Age through any and all “disruptions,” cultural or historical. Indeed, as we will see throughout the remaining chapters of this book, the same patterns in the archaeological record of exchanges visible for Minoan Crete occur again and again with variations resulting from social context. We will see that by the “eighth century revolution,” the “new” commensal or commercial exchanges were in no way revolutionary.36

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CONTROLLING THE RELATIONSHIP Oil and Wine in the Mycenaean Palatial Era

D

espite the fall of the minoan palaces around 1450 bce, olive oil and wine did not lose any of their status as cultural commodities. As the influence of Mycenaean Greece expanded toward the end of the Late Bronze Age, olive oil and wine remained integral aspects of social and political exchanges. The Mycenaean palatial era (ca. 1450–1200 BCE) represents a period when power and authority were concentrated at relatively homogenous citadels on both the southern Greek mainland and Crete that shared a handful of architectural and stylistic characteristics.1 On Crete, this era was marked by the reoccupation of many sites along with the rise of Knossos, which emerged as the dominant political and cultural center.2 Economic records written in the Linear B script have been found at all Mycenaean palaces, both on the mainland and Crete. These too were surprisingly homogenous in the types of things recorded, though particular categories were differentially emphasized. In general, the tablets focused on incoming and outgoing foodstuffs, festivals for various gods, and cadastral surveys. Pervasive among all topics covered within the records are olives, oil, grapes, and wine. As outlined in this chapter, archaeological and written evidence suggest that the palaces relied on huge surpluses of both liquids for most of their documented and undocumented affairs. Although written documents do not explicitly record the details of oil and wine production, they are very concerned with the control of vineyards and olive groves. In addition, archaeological remains of presses and archaeobotanical data allow the reconstruction of a thriving, yet 96

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centralized, industry. Linear B records and large quantities of material remains indicate that both oil and wine were staples of Mycenaean exchange. Evidence for the use of oil and wine within commensal exchanges is particularly rich. Remains of feasting events, storage of feasting equipment, and bulk surplus storage present at all palaces make clear the large scale of events at these locations. Palatial documents confirm this picture and add invaluable information about quantities of foodstuffs and utensils. Unlike the Minoan palatial era, there is more evidence during the Mycenaean era for gift exchange, both with deities and ancestors. Written texts record offerings of oil and wine to deities, while the mortuary record of this era presents a detailed picture of the types and quantities of containers used for offerings and provisions for the deceased. Commercial exchange of surplus oil and wine, while not predominantly recorded in the Linear B records, has a rich archaeological record. The transport stirrup jar, which had been invented during the Minoan palatial era, became standardized and mass-produced in the Mycenaean era. Their distribution became increasingly widespread, which highlights the interregional networks in place. At the same time, there is evidence for directed commercial exchange between the palaces on Crete and those on the Mycenaean mainland. Overall, the trend is one of centralization. Unlike the Minoan Neopalatial era, Mycenaean oil and wine surplus production and exchange are characterized by the overarching control and regulation of a central authority. At the same time, the value of surplus oil and wine was exploited on a broader Mediterranean network as exchanges with Cyprus, the Near East, Egypt, and Italy expanded considerably. Perhaps at this point we can see the more centralized entanglement of the Mycenaean era coming against and perhaps intertwining with the entanglements of other Mediterranean cultures. Ultimately, these interconnections and shared values with the outside world might have contributed not only to the downfall of the Mycenaean citadels (along with other east Mediterranean places) but also the long-lasting exchange connections between East and West. PRODUCTION OF OIL AND WINE

In contrast to the previous Minoan palatial era, patterns in pressing equipment locations on Mycenaean Crete show trends toward centralization and monumentalization. Documents written in Linear B present perhaps our best evidence for centralized control over the production process. These include detailed land management surveys, with attention to vineyards and olive groves. In addition, many tablets record the collections of olives, oil, grapes, and wine from people and places by the central authorities. These goods were then stored in or near the palaces, or perhaps in controlled regional facilities. For the palaces, at least, archaeological remains confirm the presence of large quantities of both oil and

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wine in storage magazines. It should be noted, however, that most of the evidence discussed ultimately derives from the palaces themselves, and are thus biased. Yet, it is nevertheless clear that the Mycenaean central authorities had a solid command over regional resources, with oil and wine at the heart of their affairs.

Technologies of Wine and Oil Production Unlike the Minoan palatial eras, the Mycenaean palatial era did not leave behind much evidence for the direct production of oil and wine. The relative abundance of pressing beds and vats recovered from Minoan contexts is contrasted by the relative absence of all types of pressing installations on the mainland and islands. Only Akrotiri on Thera has recently produced a similar installation. This absence could be due to the limited nature of the archaeological record. Most excavations at Mycenaean sites have focused on palatial buildings, with little attention to the surrounding towns. It is also possible that the installations in these locations were made of perishable material, such as wood, and therefore unrecoverable. Or perhaps, more likely, pressing installations for oil and wine were located outside in the surrounding hinterland, a common practice for later Classical pressing.3 Indeed, Linear B texts might indicate that olives, at least, were pressed in the countryside with the oil brought to the palace for storage or treatment (as discussed further on). Either way, the lack of presses available to us on the Greek mainland and other islands means that it is necessary to focus on the evidence present on Crete during the Mycenaean era. Here, once again, there are relatively good indications that the circumstances around pressing olives and grapes into oil and wine had changed from the previous Neopalatial era. Whereas the number of presses increased substantially in the Neopalatial era, they once again seem to diminish in numbers during the LM IIIA/B periods. In addition, the location of presses shifts from individual houses or villas to more centralized, communal locations using large-scale pressing equipment. Only six olive presses are catalogued by Platon and Kopaka (1993, 61–63 nos. 36–41) and all of them are dated to after the Minoan palatial period (LM II–LM III). Two were found at Knossos, one in the “Unexplored Mansion” Room B at Knossos, and another from a building recovered during the Stratigraphical Museum excavations at Knossos. One press was found in Magazine 34 in the palace at Phaistos and tentatively dated to LM III. Four additional examples of stone installations might be related to olive presses based on their shape and associated equipment. For example, a roughly circular, flat stone was found on top of a built platform with a stone basin nearby at Palaikastro, House D (Platon and Kopaka 1993, 66).4

PRODUCTION OF OIL A ND WINE

The best-preserved oil press installations come from the port town of Kommos. Two large-scale work stations for pressing oil were constructed within the settlement in the “House with the Press” and in a cubicle directly to the east of the “House with the Snake Tube” (Blitzer 1995, 528). These spouted press beds were found resting on a built stone platform and associated with carbonized olive stones. The press beds were most likely intended for use with wooden beams and large-scale suspended stone weights (also found at the site). Blitzer (1993, 167; 1995, 528) suggests that these new constructions may indicate a change from individual household oil processing to communal processing for the creation of surplus product in the Late Minoan III period. Although this is only one example, Kommos is nevertheless significant since this site became one of the major ports of the LM III period. Indeed, there is evidence to suggest that the surplus oil produced at Kommos would have been bottled in locally made transport stirrup jars and shipped from Crete to multiple regions around the eastern Mediterranean.

Palatial Vineyards, Orchards, and Evidence for Land Management Although direct production evidence in the form of pressing equipment is limited for the Mycenaean era, other indirect archaeological and written evidence suggests that Mycenaean central authorities had greater control over vineyards and olive groves. The relative autonomy regarding the disposition of agricultural production in Minoan Crete, as made evident by the lack of any concern for land management or appropriation in Linear A records, seems to have diminished substantially by the time Linear B, the script of mainland Mycenaeans, was adopted on the island (Palmer 2002, 103). Indeed, cadastral surveys became one of the most prominently recorded items in the Linear B records of both Cretan and mainland palaces. Included in these cadastral surveys were tablets listing orchards. These tablets indicate that the palatial administration kept some track of who was growing vines, a topic to which we will return shortly in more detail. But first, a brief overview of the basic characteristics, context, and historiographical issues of Linear B will prove useful. The records written in the Linear B script were recorded on tablets, nodules, and roundels. Linear B is a similar script to Linear A, but has been shown to be a form of ancient Greek. On Crete, Linear B replaced Linear A after the collapse of Minoan palaces at the end of the Neopalatial era. In general, these texts were used to record mainly inventory lists and personnel records. Found in most palaces of the Late Bronze Age on both the Greek mainland and Crete, Linear B tablets record what comes in and goes out of the palace, both finished and raw materials, including the person who brought the items and the person who owed the items, or is in debt for the items. There are, however, significant

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omissions within the topics presented on the tablets, even within the economic realm. For example, there is only one instance of a commercial transaction between polities (MY X 508, cloth from Mycenae to Thebes). There are no recorded instances of external overseas trade, despite the fact that Mycenaean objects are found abroad and imported objects are commonly found in the archaeological record of Mycenaean Greece (Cline 1994; van Wijngaarden 2002; Burns 2012).5 These lacunae do, however, indicate that the activities that were recorded, often in detail, had been sufficiently integrated into the palatial bureaucracy and deemed worthy of supervision. Adding to these complications of selectivity is the fact that the tablets are only preserved due to happenstance. Originally, Linear B tablets would have been made of unfired clay and often reused. Only those tablets subjected to severe (accidental) firing have been preserved. Consequently, the general scholarly consensus is that the tablets we have found mostly refer to the time at which the building was destroyed. We therefore have a mere snapshot, indeed a blurry and broken snapshot, into the administrative realities of Mycenaean palatial bureaucracy. For our purposes, it is useful that one of the most prevalent topics recorded is the management of estates and agricultural produce. The documents make clear that olive trees and grapevines, their fruits, and the oil/wine produced from them were cultivated and processed in great numbers during the Late Bronze Age. Although the total amount of land over which the palaces had direct control is debated, it seems that at least some of this land was used for the cultivation of olive trees and grapevines. For example, the totaling tablets (a-pu-do-si) of oil contributions to the Knossos Palace (tablets Fh 336+5503 and Fh 367+5460) produce ca. 4,000 trees and ca. 3,960 trees, respectively. This corresponds to 81,261 liters of olives, from which ca. 8,288 liters of oil might be pressed out (Melena 1983, 105). Keeping in mind that this calculation is based on only two tablets, we must assume that the actual amounts were far greater. For comparison, in the 1950s, 13 million olive trees were growing on Crete alone (Melena 1983, 106). It is also necessary to bear in mind that olive trees only produce fruit every other year and there tends to be a regional pattern for these fluctuating harvests. In other words, all of the olive trees in a certain area will either produce fruit, or not. There will not be some that do and some that do not. This may account for why numbers of trees and amounts of oil on tablets are relatively small in some situations (Foxhall 1995, 242). That the palace was at least concerned with some vineyards is made apparent by Knossos tablet Gv 863, which may describe two different methods of raising vines at a location very near to the palace, qa-ra in Linear B. The first line has the word wo-na-si, a locative plural form of woinades “grapevines.” On the second line, vines are called we-je-we, huiewes, meaning vines that are trained to climb up trees (Palmer 1994, 59–60). Palmer suggests that the ideogram after these words describes the age of the vine (Palmer 2002, 99). This one tablet implies

PRODUCTION OF OIL A ND WINE

that palatial central authorities had some influence on decisions pertaining to these two highly sophisticated methods for optimal vine growth. The notation of the age of the vines is a surprising detail that also hints at the intensity with which the palaces regulated vineyards, and presumably their produce. In addition, the Knossos Gv tablets refer exclusively to vines and fig trees. Specifically, tablet KN Gv 862 mentions 1,770, 405, 10, and 17 fig trees, then 20 and 225 vines. Tablet KN Gv 863 lists 420 vines and 104 fig trees; KN Gv 864 lists 69 vines, 53 fig trees, and another (illegible) number of vines (Platon and Kopaka 1993, 93). The two species are in new combinations at Pylos in tablet PY Er 880 where 1,100 vines (we-je) are followed by 1,100 fig trees (su-za). These Knossos and Pylos tablets may indeed refer to the strategy of growing grapevines up trees, and in this case, fig trees. There has been a general consensus lately that, although the palaces did control some choice pieces of land, which they doled out accordingly, they did not own outright the vast stretches of land needed to produce the large quantities of goods recorded in the tablets. The palaces may have relied upon non-palatial landowners in the surrounding kingdoms (Palmer 2001, 60). For example, a tablet from Pylos (Un 718) records wine delivered from four separate donors. The wine is in varying amounts, but the total is VIN 6, which translates to roughly 6,172.8 liters. Interestingly, wine is the only commodity all four people provide, suggesting that all of their estates included vineyards. In addition, the fifty record-keeping nodules recovered from the Wine Magazine at Pylos included thirty-three individual seals, supporting the hypothesis that the seals belonged to the wine producers, rather than to officials collecting the wine (Palmer 1994, 163). That these landowners produced multiple products is indicated on the reverse of a tablet from Mycenae (Ue 611) that records a delivery of commodities by a single person including two kinds of olives, figs, and wine (Palmer 2002, 99). At Knossos, a tablet, F(2) 852, might indicate collective olive groves. This tablet records “da-mo” olives contributed to palatial stores, which might indicate these crops were produced on damos land where damos means something like “village community.” Whether this applies to all the tablets of this variety or if this tablet is distinguished from the others by listing it as from da-mo land is impossible to know (Killen 1998). It is clear, however, that outside landowners were in no way independent from the palaces. Wine producers in particular seem to have been an object of concern for the palatial administration since there is a special title for the individual in charge of collecting tithes, contributions, or taxes from these independent vineyard owners: o-pi-ka-pe-e-we “overseer of vines” listed on PY Jn 829. To be able to requisition commodities like oil and wine, the central authorities must have made themselves essential to small-scale subsistence cultivators. In the Near East, this reliance between palace and farmer was accomplished by

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controlling water sources. On average, the climate of Greece should not have been arid enough to warrant this type of control. There is some indication, however, that climate change occurring during the Mycenaean era would have produced drier conditions at certain points in time.6 Evidence from a stalagmite at Mavri Tripa cave off the coast of the southwest Peloponnese suggests that the period around LH IIIA and the first half of LH IIIB was wetter but that an abrupt period of drier conditions lasting two decades around 1250 BCE (LH IIIB) disrupted that trend. The climate then ameliorated for a short period only to return to a clear general trend toward more arid conditions after 1225 BCE that only intensified around 1130 BCE (Weiberg and Finné 2018, 589). These data suggest that a beneficial climate supported a phase of exploitation (LH II–LH IIIA) that then had to shift toward conservation in LH IIIB. The variable climate during LH IIIB might have made the function of the centralized authorities more important. This is not to say, however, that olive trees and grapevines were necessarily directly affected by this change toward aridity. Instead, other more water-hungry plant species commonly found in Mycenaean-era palaeoenvironmental samples, such as wheat, might have necessitated irrigation. It is possible, therefore, that the Mycenaean palaces did indeed control some form of access to water resources, or, more probably, the labor and investment resources needed to build water management structures such as dams, wells, and irrigation canals, a trend also seen in the Neopalatial era. Alternatively, Foxhall (1995) proposes that the risk-buffering assistance these central authorities provided was either bailing farmers out after crop failure, or offering them access to inputs like capital or labor. While both may be correct, more evidence is available to support the latter. Paul Halstead’s (1999, 2007) work on wheat, flax, and cattle hypothesizes that the palace of Pylos, at least, loaned expensive cattle to farmers during plowing season and personnel during reaping season. In return, the palaces received a certain share of the finished product. In the case of olives and vines, the central authorities may have been able to mobilize the labor needed to harvest fruit, as well as control the equipment and knowledge for production of the oil and wine.

Palatial Control Over Surplus Oil and Wine Collection The types of records documented on Linear B tablets suggest that the Mycenaean central authorities were concerned with controlling oil and wine surplus collection. Compared to Minoan Linear A, Linear B tablets have many more ideograms related to wine, vines, vineyards, olives, and oil. This fact alone is significant since the Linear B tablets are notoriously selective about what is and is not recorded. One of the most commonly recorded items is olives, represented by the ideogram *122 OLIV, and recorded by dry measurement (Table 3.1). Olive oil is a separate ideogram, *130 OLE, and is recorded

table 3.1 Distribution by type of record of Linear B tablets recording olives Distribution Assessment (collection*) MY

Deficits (inventory*)

Religious (offering*)

Industrial (perfume ingredient*)

Personal (direct/ indirect distribution*)

Ue 652 Ue 611 v 864

864 liters PY

Un 138(a) (qe-te-a2)

Ua 9 5322+V*

420.9 liters KN

Total liters

103

F 157 F 852 F 841 F 845 F 851 F 844 F 853 F 854 F 5001 F 5043 F 7050 F 7345 E 669.1 E 669.2 E 670.1 =46,374V*

8,515.2 liters

Un 2 Ua 25 Un 138.5

−

Fn series =696+V* An/Fn 7 =540V*

979.2 liters

E 842 Uc 161 =3264V*

1,977.6 liters

11,892.9

Ap 5077 =60V*

(continued)

104 table 3.1 (continued) Distribution

Assessment (collection*)

Deficits (inventory*)

74,198.4 liters TH

Ft 140 (land capacity) =388 units 37,248 liters

Religious (offering*)

Industrial (perfume ingredient*)

5,222.4 liters

Ft 182 (unclear purpose) =4560+V* 7,296 liters

Personal (direct/ indirect distribution*)

96 liters

Total liters 79,516.8

Ft series =205+V* 328 liters

From Palmer 1994, 101, 115, 121, table 5.2, 124, table 5.5; *=from Bendall 2007, 189–193 tables 5–9, 5–10, 5–11. Dry: 1 unit=96 liters; T=9.6 liters; V=1.6 liters; Z=0.4 liters.

44,872

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105

with liquid measurements (Table 3.2). Other items frequently associated with olive oil are jars, presumably to store the quantities of oil listed. Wine is represented by the ideogram *131 VIN along with a less frequent variant, *131b (Table 3.3). The sign itself is incredibly consistent tablet-to-tablet table 3.2 Distribution by type of record of Linear B tablets recording olive oil Distribution

MY

Assessment

Deficits

Religious

Industrial

Personal

−

−

−

Fo 101 Fo 101 E-ro-pake-ta A-ke-ti-rijai (textile workers) 86 liters

PY

−

Fr 1201 Fr 1203 Fr 1208 Fr 1214 =393+V* 628.8 liters

KN

F 851 F 852 =unk. quant. ______ Fh “descriptions of oil”**: zo-a/e-pi-kowa= 1461+V* po-ro-ko-wa =37+V* to-qa/to-ro-qa = 1081+ V* ne-wo =380+V*

5,374.4 liters

Fr tablets = − 297.75+ V* Un 267? Fr 1184= 324V*

476.4 liters a-pu-do-si: Fh 340 Fh 349 Fh 366 +Fh 5503 Fh 379 Fh 5451 Fh 5459

14,432 liters

Fp(1) set =241+V* _______ Fs tablets =9.75V* _______ Fh with toponym +de = 264+V* _______ Fh offerings =29+V* _______ Fp offerings =58+V* 964.4 liters

86

− Rations

518.4 liters

Perfumery: Fh 371 Fh 5246 Fh 5446 Fh 5428 Fp 5472 =2103+V _______ Fh 5428 Fh 5435 (tanners) =223+ V* _______ Fh 386 =7V (bronzesmith)

Total liters

1,623.6

o-no: Fh 347 Fh 348 Fh 361 Fh 372 Fh 5431 Fh 5447 =3,546+V* _______ Fh rations =237+V*

3,732.8 liters 6,052.8 liters

30,557.4

Data from Tournavitou 1995, 275, table 6 with additions. * Pylos Fr series calculations from Bendall 2007, 96–97, table 3–2. Kn Fp(1) set from Bendall 2007, 107, table 3–4. Kn Fs tablets from Bendall 2007, 110, table 3–5. Kn Fh o-no from Bendall 2007, 112–115, table 3–6. ** Fh “descriptions of oil” tablets are of uncertain category, see Bendall 2007, 126–129. Liquid: 1 unit=28.8 liters; S=9.6 liters; V= 1.6 liters; Z=0.4 liters.

106 table 3.3 Distribution by type of record of Linear B tablets recording wine Distribution Assessment (collection*) MY

PY

KN

Ue 611 Ue 652 652.8 liters Un 138 (qe-te-a2)

374.4 liters Gm 840 Gm 5788 Gm 9878

Deficits (inventory*)

Religious (offering*)

Industrial (perfume ingredient*)

Personal (direct/ indirect distribution*)

Ue 663

−

−

−

144.0 liters Ua 17 Un 612

1,515.2 liters Uc 160.3 (LM II) Uc 160.4 (LM II) Uc 161 (LM II)

Total liters

796.8

Un 718 Un 2 Un 47 Un 853

Un 267.7 Un 267.8

902.4 liters Fs 2 Fs 4 Fs 11 Fs 12 Fs 17 Fs 19 Fs 21

633.6 liters −

Vn 20 Gn 428 Gn 720 ____________ An 35.5–6 (o-no; exchange) 12,729.6 liters −

16,155.2

(continued)

14,342.4 liters TH

1,781.6 liters Uo 121 9.6+

Fs 22 Fs 23 Fs 25 20.8 liters Gp series =535.25+V** 856.4

*= term used in Palmer 1994, 196, table 9.1; **= from Bendall 2007, 161–163, table 4–7. Liquid: 1 unit=28.8 liters; S=9.6 liters; V= 1.6 liters; Z=0.4 liters.

16,144.8

856.4

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(unlike other signs that can differ according to place or scribe), yet there seems to be a contrast between the mainland and Cretan sign for VIN. In form, wine ideograms found on Crete, including the Linear A signs, have hash marks going diagonally from bottom left to top right. In contrast, those from the mainland are drawn from top left to bottom right (Bennett 2002, 79). In addition to the sign, the word wo-no (woinos, Mycenaean for “wine”) does not appear in the Knossos archives but is known from Pylos, tablet PY Vn 20. The word wo-na-si (woinasi “grapevines”), however, does occur on Knossos tablet KN Gv 863 (Palmer 2002, 96). Interestingly, a tablet where the ideogram and the word for wine coexist has yet to be discovered (Palmer 1994, 28). Both wine and olive oil were recorded in liquid units with reference to a large container (VIN) that is probably the size of an amphora, not a pithos. The second size down from VIN is “S,” which indicates a third of the large unit, VIN. The middle size, “V,” is an eighteenth part of the liquid volume of a VIN and the smallest, “Z,” is a seventy-second of the volume of a VIN (Bennett 2002, 80). Mycenaean records, just like Minoan, were concerned with collecting oil and wine. It is clear, however, that Mycenaean records dealt with much larger volumes of commodities and collected on a much larger scale. For example, a tablet from Knossos (Fh 366 [+] 5503) records about 10,000 liters of olive oil collected from various villages (Godart 1968, 599). This increased interest in volume, people, and places, as well as the integration of other activities into the oil/wine sector, suggests that the central authorities had much more control over what happened to surplus oil and wine than during the previous Minoan era. While actual quantities of wine inscribed on Linear B tablets vary widely between different palaces and archives, it is nevertheless clear that the palatial administration was concerned with documenting precise quantities of oil and wine as they gathered and dispersed to and from people and divinities (Table 3.3). In general, oil and wine seem to have been collected as part of taxation or tribute payments to the palaces. As already mentioned, wine was brought in from the countryside by orchard owners themselves or via collectors as a form of taxation, assessment, or donation in the case of offerings to deities (e.g., PY Un 718; see further on). The nodules from the Wine Magazine at Pylos suggest not only that landowners brought in their own produce, but also that collectors were involved (Figure 3.1). Seals repeated on multiple nodules, along with inscriptions on the nodules themselves, suggest that a collector was also present who may have received wine from at least two landholders and therefore acted as intermediary to the palace.7 The tablet from Knossos mentioned previously, Fh 366 [+] 5503, probably represents a totaling record for olive oil coming in as a form of tax or contribution from the surrounding villages. The tablet records the amount V 6107 which, according to the absolute volumes estimated by Chadwick, is about 10,000 liters (Chadwick 1976, 107–108). The quantities of

PRODUCTION OF OIL A ND WINE

(a)

(b)

(c)

3.1 Clay sealings from the Wine Magazine with variations of the wine ideogram. Blegen and Rawson 1966, fig. 303 no. 26 (a), no. 28 (b), and no. 30 (c). Courtesy of The Department of Classics University of Cincinnati

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wine and oil collected from landowners varied, but were perhaps assessed as a direct percentage of projected or actual yield of the trees, rather than apportioned indirectly according to administrative districts. This strategy is possibly illustrated on a tablet from Knossos, Gm 840, which records wine collected by the a-pu-da-se-we in large, disproportional amounts from each source, rather than equal amounts.8 Whatever the strategy, the sheer amounts of wine and oil collected by the palaces are impressive. Inventory tablets found at palaces on the Mycenaean mainland and Crete record both large and small amounts of oil and wine among other commodities, generally known as mixed-commodity tablets. The majority of tablets record fewer than 20 units (VIN) of wine, but two tablets record abnormally huge amounts. Pylos tablet PY Vn 20 records 410 units (11,808 liters) assessed from nine towns in the Hither Province and Knossos tablet KN Gm 840 records an even larger amount of 498 units (14,342.4 liters) or more (Palmer 1994, 60). The most likely explanation, as put forth by Palmer (2002, 103), for these seemingly absurd numbers is that both these tablets probably list amounts collected per district. Another possibility could be an accrual over time, but most Linear B documents do not seem to serve this type of function, as they deal with mainly one-time transactions within a single year or season. The Mycenaean palaces were concerned with collecting surplus olive oil and wine for a number of purposes. It has been suggested that the palaces practiced a form of redistribution called “mobilization” where goods collected by the palace were not usually redistributed to the villages, although we do have some instances of this happening. Rather, goods were more often used by palace personnel (Palmer 2001, 53). One of the most prominent purposes for collected oil and wine was the production of perfumed oil. That at least some Mycenaean palaces directly controlled the production of perfumed oil is clear. Pylos is perhaps the most well-known example, although there is archaeological and written evidence that Knossos and Mycenae were also deeply invested. At Pylos there are records for both the raw olive oil and the various ingredients to be added (AN 616 r, Un 249, Un 267, Un 592 kept in Archive room 7–8 Shelmerdine 1985, 8). Tablets dealing with the collection of raw materials for perfume manufacture include references to basic oil from both palatial stores and from outside the palace. Additives include coriander, cyperus, and henna, which might have been used to dye the oil (Shelmerdine 1985, 17–23, 151). Four perfumers are mentioned in the Pylos tablets and seem to have been under direct control of the palatial administration, with their kitchen located within the palace walls (Courts 42 and 47) and all of their supplies and provisions deriving from the palace itself (Shelmerdine 1985, 59; Murphy 2012, 251). That the perfumers received some of their raw oil from within palatial stores and some from outside the palace suggests that the administration was able to collect surplus oil when needed. In addition,

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111

Pylos’s preoccupation with the perfumed oil industry evidently spilled over into wine consumption as one tablet, PY Un 257, records both varieties of wine as ingredients for perfumed oil (Palmer 2002, 99). It is also clear that the palatial administration had near-complete control over the production of perfumed oil, unlike during the Neopalatial era on Crete when we have no evidence for the palaces directly controlling any aspect of oil or wine manufacture. Access to perfumed oil would have acted as a means of reinforcing and creating the Pylian (and perhaps broader Mycenaean) social hierarchy and exchange relationships (Murphy 2012, 254). One way we can see this connection is by the presence of small closed jars for perfumed oil in almost every tomb discovered on mainland Greece, a topic which will be discussed later in the chapter.

Palatial Storage of Surplus Oil and Wine Just as in the Minoan palatial era, the Mycenaean palaces have a significant amount of space dedicated to storage of surplus commodities (Table 3.4). Oil and wine seem to have featured prominently among the types of perishables stored. At Pylos on the Greek mainland, the Wine Magazine contained twenty-five large pithoi sunk into the floor (Figure 3.2). The cache of clay nodules marked with the Linear B sign for wine were found inside the doorway, suggesting that this room was used for incoming shipments of wine (Palmer 1994, 146; Figure 3.1). The pithoi would have had a total capacity of at least 4,682 liters of wine, but perhaps upward of 6,293.325 liters, not including the ten holes where pithoi were once placed (Palmer 1994, 146 and

table 3.4 Minimum number of individual vessels and low-end estimate of volume held for contexts at Mycenae and Pylos Context Mycenae: HOM

Pithoi

13 (2,431–3,272 liters) Mycenae: HWM 8 (1,496–2,008 liters) Wine Magazine at Pylos 25 (4,682–6,293 liters) + 10 missing pithoi Pylos storerooms 23–34 28 (5,236–7,028 liters) Pylos Rm 53

Transport stirrup jars

Total volume (liters)

29 (ca. 365 liters) 50 (ca. 675 liters)

2,796–3,637 2,171–2,683 4,682–8,803

5,236–7,028

17 (ca. 229 liters)

229

TSJ volume calculations by average FS 164 capacity of 13.5 liters (Haskell 1984, 101, n. 28). Pithos volume calculations based on Wine Magazine estimates.

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(a)

(b)

3.2 The Wine Magazine (Rooms 104 and 105) at Pylos. Blegen and Rawson 1966, fig. 254 (a) and fig. 256 (b). Courtesy of The Department of Classics University of Cincinnati

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Appendix 7.2). The palace’s concern for producing perfumed oil necessitated its storage. Room 23 has been identified both as a storage area for perfumed oil and as a scribal center for recording its disbursement (Figure 3.3; Blegen and Rawson 1966, 136; Shelmerdine 1985, 87–88). An adjacent room, Room 24, also seems to have functioned as an oil storeroom with large pithoi in benches around the wall and a sealing (Wr 1437) with the word AREPA inscribed on it (Shelmerdine 1985, 88). Rooms 32 and 38 may have also been storerooms associated with perfumed oil, as posited by the original excavators (Blegen and Rawson 1966, 156–160, 170–173). Based on the number of rooms dedicated to storage of wine, oil, and especially perfumed oil, the administration at Pylos, at least, had significant control over these surplus commodities. Outside of Pylos, storage areas of Mycenaean palaces dedicated to oil and wine can be identified. At Mycenae, rooms filled with transport stirrup jars

3.3 Pylos Rooms 23 and 24 from northeast. After Blegen and Rawson 1966 fig. 102. Courtesy of The Department of Classics University of Cincinnati

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3.4 Cretan transport stirrup jar from Mycenae’s House of the Oil Merchant (no. 9099) with multiple seal impressions on clay spout cap. Photo by author

were discovered in the Ivory Houses just outside the citadel (Table 3.4). Some of the stirrup jars had their clay stoppers preserved with many seal impressions on them (Figure 3.4). These various means of marking and recording wine and oil containers provides insight into the highly regulated palatial mechanisms for controlling and storing these two commodities. Although not much of the palace at Thebes has been excavated, a storage jar has been found that was tested for residue. The result was that olive oil had been inside; a welcome affirmation that Pylos was not the only palace concerned with olive oil and its variants (Evans and Garner 2008, 139). Linear B records also provide evidence for central authorities storing surplus commodities, including oil and wine, outside of the palace. Even the larger estimated capacity of the Wine Magazine at Pylos would not have been large enough for the totals of wine entered in the Linear B tablets (e.g., Vn 20: 11,808 liters). This discrepancy might allude to the existence of other storage areas. Palmer (1994, 119) suggests that there was perhaps one stockpile in each district for the agricultural products collected as tax or rent throughout the kingdom. Officials such as the du-ni-jo and me-za-wo-ni in PY Un 138 and pa-ra-we-wo in PY Vn 20 might have been responsible for both collecting and distributing from these stores.

Production of Value: Qualities and Types of Mycenaean Wine and Oil That Mycenaean administration was concerned with the type, quality, and taste of oil and wine is indicated by variations in the ideograms, their ligatured signs, and associated adjectives. There are three ideograms for wine: *131a, *131b,

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and *131c. Palmer (1995) suggested that *131a is wine and *131b is vinegar because it is associated with perfume manufacture. However, there is no indication in any ancient source that perfume manufacture needed vinegar. Stanley (1999, 107) suggests instead that *131a refers to a superior wine, while *131b is an inferior wine that might have been produced from a second pressing of the grapes with added water. The ideogram *131c is a rare variation, detected in only three texts and two clay nodules. The nodules are from the Wine Magazine at Pylos. One of them has on its reverse a seal impression with the word “e-ti-wa-no.” Stanley (1999, 108) interprets this to mean “genuine” (cf., Ventris and Chadwick 1973, éτανον) and so may be a designation of a particularly extraordinary vintage that needed to be authenticated. In addition to quality, Linear B tablets might also indicate flavor of wines. One of the nodules records the word me-ri-ti-jo, which has been translated by Chadwick as from melitios, a form of μελι (honey). Honeyed wines are not uncommon in the ancient world (e.g., Plut. 2. 672b) and are in fact one of the favorite epithets for wine in the Homeric poems (see Appendix; Il. 6.264; Od. 7.182. μελιηδης Il. 4.346; 6.258; 10. 579; 12. 320; Od. 3.46; 9.28; 14. 78; 16.52; 18.151, 426; 21.293). Confirmation that this adjective refers to added honey and not just “sweet” comes from recent residue analyses, which often indicate the presence of honey alongside wine signatures (McGovern 2003, 264). Further confirmation is offered by the fact that “sweet” does occur as a separate adjective modifying wine in the Linear B tablets. Knossos tablet Uc 160 has the addition of de-re-u-ko, which has been connected with γλευκος, or “sweet.” This adjective is later associated with the “free-run” juice of grapes before they have been crushed (Hesychius s.v. γλευκος). This juice, still produced today, is the sweetest and is made by the pressure of the weight of the grapes themselves or by gently pressing the grapes. Alternatively, sweet wine can be made by drying the grapes in the sun for a few days before pressing, thereby concentrating the juices within (cf., Hesiod’s Works and Days). Yet, the quality and perhaps taste of wine are not the only designations preserved in the Linear B records. In addition to variations in ideogram shape and accompanying adjectives, the ideograms are often modified by the addition of one to four diagonal bars in the lower portion of the ideogram. These bars differ not only in number, but also in direction. They can be slanted left to right, right to left, or meeting in the center in a herringbone pattern. Stanley (1999, 109–111) makes a convincing argument for these diagonal lines representing the age of the wine. In this scenario, the absence of any diagonals would indicate new wine and the addition of diagonals would correspond to the number of years the wine has been stored. The herringbone pattern was perhaps an indication of the oldest and finest wines as it is only associated with *131c. Of course, there is no way to prove that these diagonal bars correspond with a single year, or even age. Indeed, other scholars have

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attributed the differences in the number of bars to scribal inconsistencies (Bennet 1996). Yet, it is nevertheless temping to accept Stanley’s proposition since ancient wines were unlikely to survive past three or four years old without turning to vinegar. Moreover, in later literary works it is clear that the age of wine did indeed contribute to its value. In the Homeric poems, for example, there are several indications that aged wine was considered a prestige item (e.g., Od. 2.337–342, 3.388–392). The ideograms for olives and olive oil are both modified by a number of syllabograms in ligature or accompanying adjectives. The syllabograms most commonly in ligature with the OLIV ideogram are TI and A, possibly representing different types of oil. Melena (1983), responding to J. Chadwick’s (1976, 121) initial suggestion, argued that A (short for agrios or “wild”) represented oil from wild olives, while TI signified oil from cultivated trees (tithasos or “domesticated”). He suggested that the large amounts of wild olives in the Linear B tablets (proportion of seven wild to two domesticated; Hadjisavvas 2003, 117) were specifically for producing perfumed oils. This seems to be supported by the ancient author Dioscorides (I.30) who says that oil from wild olives is more suitable for being squeezed out because wild olives have a low grease index (Melena 1983, 102). However, this argument is only speculative and based solely on one (much later) ancient author. Lin Foxhall (2007) draws attention to ethnographic examples that show the unsuitability of wild olives for producing large quantities of high-quality olive oil. In particular, the ratio of olives to oil is about 20:1 for wild olives and 5–6:1 for domesticated olives (Foxhall 1995, 242 n. 12). She therefore proposes that A and TI represent two qualities of oil (Foxhall 1995, 242). In addition, activities related to perfumed oil were frequently recorded. In the Linear B tablets perfumed oil had two forms: a more liquid one (OLE which signifies oil) and a thicker unguent type (AREPA; Shelmerdine 1985, 31). A real concern for added value is perhaps visible here in the Linear B records. If these interpretations of the variations in the wine and oil ideogram are correct, it becomes clear that Mycenaean Greeks were very attuned to the qualities of wine and oil. This, in turn, suggests that each quality would have been connected with a certain hierarchical value. Just as we today rank wines and oils based on many factors, so too did the Mycenaean Greeks. At the same time, having access to the best wines and oils would have been a mark of prestige. Exchanging those commodities in the context of feasts, rituals, or trade would have gained the owner significant social and real capital. COMMENSAL EXCHANGE: STATE-SPONSORED FEASTING

Olive oil and wine remained integral components of commensal exchanges after the collapse of the Minoan palaces. Yet, how their value was constructed

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within these exchange contexts changed as these two commodities were used and controlled in different ways. Archaeological remains of commensal events on the Greek mainland and Crete suggest, overall, that during the Mycenaean era (LM/LH II–III periods), feasting activities were concentrated at a few major centers and can be characterized by exclusion and control.9 On Crete, the change in social organization of commensality is particularly striking as the previous Minoan inclusive feasting events were generally replaced by elite gatherings restricted both spatially and socially. The scale of commensal exchanges also changed. On the mainland, feasts increased exponentially in scale compared to the previous Middle Helladic era. On Crete, however, the scale of events seems to have generally decreased compared to the Minoan Neopalatial era. In addition, during these events, specific ritualistic practices of wine drinking involving elaborate pouring and toasting hinged on the use of new, stemmed cups and the introduction of large containers for mixing. Ultimately, through lavish demonstrations of generosity and piety, state-organized feasting emphasized the role of the state in underpinning and legitimizing social and political structures (Bendall 2001, 445). This dominant role of the state in large-scale, yet divisive, commensal events helped shape the way in which value was attributed to oil and wine, as well as the strength and complexity of dependencies surrounding the exchange of these two commodities in this particular context.

Change in Context and Scale at Palatial Commensal Events At the heart of commensal events in the Mycenaean palatial era were the palaces.10 The palaces not only became the most prominent location for most of the large-scale events, but they also seem to have influenced, if not controlled, events located elsewhere, such as at sanctuaries and cemeteries. Hence, banquets and feasts in the Mycenaean palatial era were primarily regulated, sponsored, and organized by the central authorities. The origins of convivial practices on the mainland appear to have been rooted in the private sphere of elite social values of the Middle Helladic period, which emphasized generosity and hospitality in the framework of direct, reciprocal transactions. These transactions never involved large groups, as suggested by occurrences of pairs of identical serving vessels in both settlements and wealthy tombs (Wright 2004, 141–143, tables 1–5; Borgna 2004, 263). Middle Helladic, preMycenaean banquets served mainly as an assertion of vertical differentiation and as a materialization of the ideology of a limited segment of society. Only in the Late Helladic period did different settings for the banquets – both funerary and domestic – emerge. Although the nature of the feasts was generally homogenous and derived ultimately from the sponsoring activity of palatial authorities, the performances themselves could have had different purposes,

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such as facilitating communal participation on religious occasions (Borgna 2004, 262). At the same time that the context of feasting changed, participation seems to have expanded from restricted elites to include much of the population. Yet, the “symposiastic” structure – the intimate elite aspect – of the feast continued to be central to its practice, as demonstrated by the diacritical nature of the archaeological evidence. That is, elaborate drinking sets found in important rooms are often juxtaposed by hundreds of plain cups in exterior (or external) spaces. At Pylos, the analysis of thousands of drinking cups found in different groups led to the conclusion that the palace was a site for both elite drinking parties and large festival gatherings (Figure 3.5; Whitelaw 2001). There, feasts varied in size and function. Smaller ones were private, but public ones were large enough to feed several thousand people (Stocker and Davis 2004, 72). Nakassis (2010) in an estimation of food and participants from the Linear B tablets concludes that the largest feasts could feed 10,000–15,000 people, which, according to the population estimates by Whitelaw (2001), would have constituted approximately one-third of the population of Messenia. This suggests that feasts were tiered; different groups in the social hierarchy would feast at the same time but in different parts of the palace (Bendall 2004; Stocker and Davis 2004, 71). Bendall (2004) places the most elite participants in Hall 6 (the Megaron); the second tier in Hall 65; more general groups in Courts 63 and 88; and the lowest tier in Court 58 in front of the palace. Fox (2008)

3.5 Pylos feasting equipment, including kylix cups and kraters for mixing wine. Photo by author

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concurs that Halls 6 and 65 are more private while courtyard locations are more public. On Crete, the restriction in feasting locations reflects the political geography of the island. In general, political power became more centralized with a simultaneous decrease in intra-regional competition. The evidence on Crete suggests that in areas where Mycenaean ideology was strongly present feasts decreased in scale from the previous Neopalatial era with drinking cups no longer found in huge numbers (Borgna 2004, 264; Kallitsaki 1997).11 Instead, what we see is interplay between different modes of feasting. There seems to have been a tension between the observance of mainland patterns, which often emphasized exclusion and restriction, and the more inclusive corporate mode inherited from the Neopalatial past. Banqueting was more widely practiced and less strictly controlled than on the mainland, and “definitely independent of a diacritical pattern of exclusivity” (Borgna 2004, 268). Evidence for this dual nature of commensal events on Mycenaean Crete comes from the tableware used during these occasions. From LM II onward, the pottery used in commensal exchanges and convivial ceremonies is finely executed and generally decorated (Borgna 2004, 266). Differentiated sets of vessels may indicate similar multidimensional aspects of banqueting. For example, at LM III Phaistos, open communal or regional participation on the Acropoli Mediana is indicated by the high quantity of mixing bowls. At the same time, a more restricted, elite commensal event used for maintaining elite connections and authority seems to have taken place in the Casa a ovest (Borgna 2004, 254). Huge amounts of surplus oil and wine would have been needed for commensal events of this size. The Pylos disbursement tablets might give some indication of the scale of surplus collection and distribution. Tablet PY Vn 20 is one of only three existing tablets from the mainland that deals solely with wine. It records a disbursement of wine to the nine towns in the Hither Province. On it, the largest amount is sent to pe-to-no (2,880 liters) and the smallest to ri-jo (576 liters). The amounts of wine listed produce a total of 410 units or 11,808 liters of wine. These tablets may suggest that the palace supplied wine for consumption during festival or ritual celebrations. Perfumed oil and unguents also played a prominent role in feasts. The quantities of perfume for consumption at commensal events as recorded in Linear B tablets (Un 6, Un 718, Un 853, Un 1177), while insufficient for distribution to all the estimated participants, were nevertheless prodigious (approximately 24 liters; Murphy 2012, 257). In addition, Bendall (2001, 260) argues that at least 86 percent of the Linear B Fr disbursement tablets refer to perfumed oils in religious contexts and several of these are feasting activities. Bendall (2002, 260) also notes that unguents are only recorded in relation to feasts on the Pylos tablets. However, it is not entirely clear exactly how perfumed oil was used at feasts. Fappas (2008, 369–373) suggests that the

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Mycenaean use of perfumed oil may have been similar to Near Eastern or Egyptian practices. In the Near East, perfumed oil was used to anoint kings, priests, and priestesses after a feast, and Egyptian records imply that everyone at a feast had oil on their heads. Another purpose for the perfumed oil at feasts could have been, essentially, party favors. Although the gifts given to people visiting the palace are not listed on the Linear B tablets, it is plausible to envision that perfume was given out at feasts, based on the reference to special oil “for the guests” (ke-se-ni-wi-jo; Fr 1231; Bendall 2007, 101; Shelmerdine 1985, 79– 80; 2007, 44).

Change in Commensal Equipment The most prominent drinking cups of the Mycenaean era became the kylix and champagne cup, both of which have a stemmed, open design (Figure 3.5). On Crete, the plain conical cup was still present, but fewer in number. Kylikes in particular seem to have been specifically associated with the Mycenaean palaces. This change in cup is accompanied by a change in large serving vessels. While pouring vessels like jugs are still common, a new type of container, the krater, was introduced. Kraters, and perhaps also large deep bowls, were used for mixing wine with water and other ingredients. The drink would then be ladled from the krater into the kylikes creating a “punch bowl” effect. These changes in tableware have a few broader implications. The first is that there must have been a change in the economics of pottery demand and production. Instead of mass production of plain conical cups, we see fewer, more time-consuming but elaborate vessels. The second implication of the new drinking equipment is that the change in shape came with the “embodiment of a drastic change in table manners, drinking etiquette and social organization of commensality” (Hamilakis and Sherratt 2012, 193). Specifically, performativity in serving and drinking attained new potency, as kylikes and champagne cups are meant to be raised and shown, rather than hidden in the palm of the hand (Figure 3.6). These shapes also reveal a decline in the illusion of social homogeneity and corporatism embodied by the conical cup. The stylistic elaboration and regulation of Mycenaean kylikes and drinking vessels, in contrast to the Minoan focus on preparation and manipulation activities (shown by elaborate pouring vessels), suggest that consumption was subject to ritual codes and constituted an important social arena for the negotiation of power and status (Borgna 2004, 266). As we will see in Chapter 4, kylikes were irrevocably entangled with the palatial authorities to the point that when the palaces collapsed, kylikes quickly disappeared. The new emphasis on certain performative actions while serving and drinking wine during commensal exchanges is also supported by iconographic representations. During the Late Bronze Age, pictorial decoration on drinking

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3.6 Drinking scene on a pictorial krater found at Tiryns. After Kilian 1980. Image by author

equipment, such as large kraters for mixing wine and water, can provide clues to the social context of, in this case, wine use (Figure 3.6). A number of these vessels have been found painted with a feasting scene where seated people, often in pairs, raise up what looks to be a stemmed kylix drinking cup. On some scenes, one seated person stands out and may represent royalty or a deity (Figure 3.7). These “toasting” scenes are paralleled by contemporary wall paintings from Pylos and Knossos (Wright 2004, 2009). The fresco known as the Campstool Fresco at Knossos suggests that large feasts were not restricted to the palace of Pylos, but were a culturally widespread phenomenon. The act of “toasting” was part of an elite ideology shared by other common representations on ceramics such as chariots and supernatural creatures (e.g., sphinxes). Surprisingly, kraters are not often found in settlement, ritual, or mortuary contexts on mainland Greece at this point in time (this trend changes after the palatial collapse). Rather, they appear to have been made especially for the export market. The fact that Mycenaean pictorial kraters were commonly exported from the Greek mainland (especially the Argolid) to Cyprus and the Near East may suggest that the Aegean was particularly well known for its wine consumption (Steel 2004; Papadopoulos 2011).

Commensal Exchange at Non-Palatial Sites: Suburban, Ritual, and Funerary There is some archaeological and textual evidence that feasting also took place at several non-palatial sites including provincial settlements, ritual locations, and cemeteries. However, the types of equipment used during these feasting events, including a large number of kylikes, suggest that most commensal

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3.7 Gold signet ring from the Tiryns “hoard.” National Archaeological Museum, Athens, no. 6208. Photo by author

events were in some way influenced by the palaces and that emulation was intended (Fox 2012, 48). That the palaces might have been directly involved in provincial feasts is indicated by a tablet from Pylos, Vn 20, where nine towns of the Hither Province were given large quantities of wine, presumably for regional feasts (Palmer 1994, 76–78; Bendall 2004, 109–110; Hruby 2006, 119–120). This perhaps suggests simultaneous feasting across the polity, and employing the palaces’ generosity in provisioning wine to its subjects for sociopolitical aims (Hruby 2006, 121). Religious feasts hosted at sanctuaries seem to have been highly regulated by palatial administration. Detailed records of goods going to sanctuaries indicate a close relationship between the palace and the religious realm. Indeed, events in sacred locations were recorded in the same way as palatial events. The majority of the items allotted to sanctuaries came from palace stores or were administered directly by the palace. Wine and oil were two of the most frequently listed commodities given to sanctuaries. The large quantities of both liquids suggest that most allotments were designated for ritual feasting events. A tablet from Pylos, Un 2, dedicates almost 600 liters of wine to the sanctuary at Pakijana, located near Pylos, on the occasion of the initiation of the head of the Mycenaean state, the Wanax. Supplies for feasts in honor of deities were often recorded in palatial archives. PY Un 718 records supplies collected for a feast in honor of Poseidon and PY Fr 343 and 1217 records a festival in honor of the same god at Pakijana, the re-ke-e-to-ro-te-ri-jo festival (Hruby 2006, 113). Another religious festival recorded in the Pylos records is directly connected to wine. The “festival of the new wine” (me-tu-wo ne-wo, Fr 1202) was probably a seasonal occasion. In addition, wine is often included on the Knossos Fs series tablets, which list supplies for feasting connected to sanctuaries and deities.

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The above textual evidence is supported by archaeological remains of commensal events found in palatial and non-palatial cultic areas. It is not surprising that feasting took place in ritual locations attached to the citadels. At Mycenae, there are remains of commensal events in the Cult Center that include animal bones, shellfish, and the predominance of consumption vessels, with large quantities of kylikes. Residue analysis conducted on vessels from the Cult Center indicates that several amphoras, stirrup jars, and a kylix found in the Room with the Fresco had remains of wine (Tzedakis and Martlew 1999, 189–190, 196–198). Similarly, the Shrine Area at Midea had a food preparation room (II) that contained many deep bowls, culinary equipment, food remains, and cooking jars with organic residue (Walberg and Reese 2008). Non-palatial sanctuaries also seem to have hosted commensal events. At Ayios Konstantinos on Methana, burnt bones and cooking equipment were found mixed with consumption debris. Likewise, the sanctuary of Apollo Maleatas at Epidauros included a terrace around an altar used for feasting. Remains include ashes, animal bones, and drinking vessels (Lambrinoudakis 1981, 59–65). Similar deposits have been discovered at Haghia Triada in the Argolid and Profitis Ilias cave near Tiryns. In all of these locations, drinking vessels, and especially kylikes, played a prominent role in the ritual festal activities. Feasts at sanctuaries were occasions of palatial administrative effort and resource expenditure. Indirect influence on the part of palatial authorities is perhaps seen in the context of commensal exchange in funerary contexts. As in all Mycenaean feasting contexts, wine and oil played a prominent role. Here, however, we must rely solely on archaeological evidence since there are no obvious records of supplies for funerary feasts in the Linear B archives. This section is confined to contexts indicating larger-scale commensal events. The smaller-scale use of oil and wine in libations and grave offerings will be addressed in the next section on non-commensal gift exchange. Feasting debris found in cemeteries shows that rituals occurred directly in the tomb chamber or in the dromos (entrance way) leading up to the stomion (opening). Alternatively, the feast could be held near the tomb area with the debris swept down to be covered in the filling of the dromos. The commensal events taking place at gravesites were probably family affairs, marked by homogeneity in drinking equipment. Drinking of beverages (presumably wine) at funerary feasts is widely attested from at least the Early Mycenaean period. Drinking rituals played their most significant role during the palatial period, with appearance of numerous kylikes in and around tombs. Parallel to feasting remains in palatial and ritual contexts, the rise of kylikes deposited in cemeteries coincides with the rise of the palaces. Cemeteries allow a certain amount of diachronic investigation, whereas palaces tend to show us a static picture of the very last moments of their habitation. In burial contexts, kylikes were not deposited in tombs before LH IIIA; they became more common

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around LH IIIA2–B1 and were abundant in LH III B2 (Cavanagh 1998, 111; Gallou 2003, 88–89; Dakouri-Hild 2003, 150–153). That palaces had some connection to funerary feasts might be indicated by some specialized ceramic equipment found in palatial storerooms. At Pylos, a few rare types of vessels (incense burners and miniature kylikes) have been found in the palatial pantries that are out of place: they are almost always associated with cemeteries (Lis 2008, 24). The discovery of funerary equipment in a palatial context, along with the predominance of kylikes, suggests the practices of the palatial authorities had a significant impact on funeral feasts. OIL AND WINE IN GIFT EXCHANGE

As in the Minoan Palatial era, oil and wine figured prominently in Mycenaeanera gift exchanges. Although non-commensal gift exchange is more difficult to discern in the archaeological record, we can nevertheless see some form of it when approaching offerings to deities and to the dead. Within these exchanges, the person giving the object to the god or deceased is interacting with them on a personal level. At the same time, it cannot be denied that the giver ultimately wishes for something in return, whether that is general goodwill or something more concrete. Hence, we can view cult offerings and grave goods as gifts embedded in an exchange process. For the Mycenaean palatial era, oil and wine were intimately tied to these reciprocal acts between humans and nonhuman (or no longer human) entities. Olive oil and wine became necessary components in libation practices, offerings, and other ritualized actions, such as “toasting,” that are archaeologically visible through the equipment used and left behind in sanctuary and cemetery settings. The patterns in use of oil and wine within these exchange contexts reflect meaningful changes and continuities in sociocultural practices, values, and connections with things.

Gifts to the Gods Wine and oil were frequently given to the gods in two ways: libations and offerings. However, the same practical and interpretive issues concerning these acts in the Minoan palatial era apply to the Mycenaean era as well. It is only through analogy with later historical eras that we can reconstruct any relatively convincing interpretation of archaeological remains representing libations or gifts to the gods. Archaeological remains from a few ritual sites might present evidence for the practice of libation. The primary liquid used in libations is assumed to be wine due to the frequent presence of drinking cups around possible libations areas (Hägg 1990, 183). The prevalence of kylikes in ritual contexts has led Hägg (1990, 183) to say that “the kylix may in fact have been the most common Mycenaean libation vessel, thus used in both divine cults and funerary

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ritual” (emphasis original). There are some indications, however, that other liquids such as milk, honey, or blood were also used. One of the most recent archaeological discoveries of a possible installation for libations in a ritual setting comes from the sanctuary at Ayios Konstantinos on eastern Methana, dated to the LH IIIA-B period. In Room A primary cultic installations were found including votive terracottas on the steps of a bench, as well as eight kylikes and a large triton shell with the tip cut off for libations. The shell may have been used for ritual pouring and drinking of liquids, a type of Mycenaean libation proposed by Hägg (1988, 105). The practice of libation was also indicated by two diminutive vessels, a conical rhyton and plain dipper. Nearby, the upper segment of a large coarse-ware jar was found resting on the floor upside down and might have been a receptacle for liquid offerings. With it were cups, a dipper, and an animal-head rhyton. It is often assumed that rhyta in the shape of animals were used for blood libations, but this is not certain (KonsolakiYannopoulou 2001, 215). Similar upside-down jar installations have been found in the house-shrines at Asine (Hägg 1981, 91–94) and Berbati (Persson and Akerström 1937–1938, 59–63). At Asine, a jug with the bottom cut off was placed upside down next to an altar. At Berbati, a fine krater was placed in the corner of a room half sunk into the earth with an intentionally made hole through the bottom. One of the most famous installations for libation rituals was found in the megaron at the Palace of Nestor at Pylos. There, next to the throne, were two basins cut into the plaster floor connected to each other by a channel. Around these cuttings on the floor were scattered miniature kylikes (Blegen and Rawson 1966, 85–88). In the megaron at Pylos, the presence of miniature kylikes, the frescos of toasting on the walls, and the overall assemblages of feasting debris might suggest that wine was intended to be poured into that receptacle as the wanax exchanged with the gods before he drank from his own kylix. At Mycenae, the designated Cult Center has a few installations that seem appropriate for receiving libations. In the Tsountas House Shrine, a round depression in an altar might have been used as a receptacle for liquid libations. In parallel to the non-palatial shrines mentioned earlier, this same room had a shallow runnel in the stucco floor leading from the altar to a two-handled jar sunk into the floor (Hägg 1990, 178). Necks of amphoras were also fixed in position in rooms T5 and T7, suggesting that they too were receptacles for libations (Hägg 1990, 180). The ceramic shapes used, large jars or amphoras, might also hint toward a specifically wine-based liquid. The presence of much wine in these cultic areas is supported by residue analysis conducted on a few vessels from the Cult Center, including the Room with the Fresco. Some vessels were determined to have held wine, while a cooking jar seems to have held a form of retsina: wine with added pine resin (still a popular drink in Greece today; Martlew 2004, 135).

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Evidence for wine and oil as offerings directly to the gods is more plentiful as it draws on both archaeological and written sources. It is clear from the discussion of ritual feasting above that much of the Mycenaean palaces’ resources were dedicated to activities of a religious nature. In her work on these ritual resources, Bendall (2001, 446) highlights the fact that of the palatial goods recorded on the tablets, 17 percent from Pylos and 5 percent from Knossos include references to the religious sphere. Within these religious resources, the tablets provide evidence for several large-scale gifts in the form of taxation (part of the whole production, do-so-mo; e.g., to Poseidon PY Es tablets), as well as “donations” in small quantities of several commodities or finished products to the gods (e.g., Pylos Fp 1+31; Kyriakidis 2001, 128). At Pylos and Knossos, olive oil was the most common commodity recorded as offerings. It appears primarily in the Pylos Fr series and Knossos Fh, Fp and F series. The majority of Fr tablets record disbursements to deities, shrines, and persons, but a few are associated with inventories and movements of goods within the industry. For the non-industrial disbursements within the Fr group at Pylos, 71 percent of the oil recorded was clearly designated for religious offerings. However, it is also clear that much more oil was available to the palace than is attested in the offering tablets. In all, amounts certainly or probably recorded as offerings to deities represent 26 percent of overall amounts attested (Bendall 2001, 447–448). At Knossos, too, there is a bias toward recording religious offerings. Forty-one percent of the oil recorded on Knossos disbursement tablets is allocated for religion. But, when looking at the total amounts of oil coming into the palace, it seems that these offerings really only make up about 10 percent (Bendall 2001, 449). The quantities of oil given to these deities vary considerably. The largest disbursement for an offering at Knossos is ca. 70 liters, five entries record more than 30 liters, fourteen entries are in the 10–30-liter range, thirty-three entries in the 3–10liter range, and twenty-eight entries are less than 2 liters. A similar situation is present at Pylos. Often the individual deities are named as the receivers of these gifts of oil. One of the most prominent deities in the tablets is the goddess Potnia. The adjective “Potnian” (PY Un 249) was used to describe a perfumer, as well as the perfume intended for the goddess (Lupack 2007, 56; Shelmerdine 1985, 20). Potnia also received perfumed oil “for (the pieces) of wehanos cloth, as ointment” (we-a2-no-I a-ro-pa; PY Fr 1225; Nosch and Perna 2001, 475, 477). A variation of this goddess, the Potnia *Aswiya (a-si-wi-ya), perhaps a foreign deity, was “owed” (to-so qe-te-jo) a very large amount, 94 QT units, of perfumed oil (Morris 2001, 424). Bendall (2014) argues that this large amount on tablet Fr 1206 was given to Potnia Aswiya as a one-time (or once a year?) gift and shipped to her sanctuary in Anatolia. A different goddess, the “Divine Mother” (ma-te-re te-i-ja) was given a large quantity (100 QT) of specifically

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sage-scented oil. Unlike the gift to Potnia Aswiya, this does not seem to be an annual gift since a single month or festival (me-tu-wo ne-wo; the “New Wine”) is specified (Morris 2001, 424). Male gods also frequently received scented oils. The exact identification of the Di-pi-si-jo(i) or Dipsioi is unclear, but they are associated with oil on five tablets. They have been interpreted as the Thirsty Ones, which might indicate the collective dead (Guthrie 1959, 45). However, this word has also been interpreted as a place name (Shelmerdine1985, 73, 127– 128) or a reference to the Minoan Genii, a type of divinity known from Crete (S. Morris 1992, 209). The god known as the “Thrice-hero” is also offered oil (PY Fr 1204). Perfumed oil was certainly a necessary commodity for the gods, not only as offerings, but perhaps also for the proper worship of the gods. At least three Pylos Fr tablets, which list offerings of perfumed oil, have as a date the name of religious festivals: pa-ki-ja-ni-jo (Fr 1224), to-no-e-de-te-ri-jo (Fr 1222), and re-de-to-ro-te-ri-jo (Fr 1217; Bennett 1985, 30; Murray 1979, 300; Palmer 1994, 112). Wine was probably the second-most common commodity listed as offerings to the gods. One of the most interesting discoveries comes from the palace at Thebes where over fifty tablets record wine as the sole commodity offered to gods and religious personnel. This situation recalls the Minoan propensity to treat wine as a specialized commodity during the Neopalatial era. At Thebes, the format of these wine entries resembles the Knossos olive oil offering tablets. According to Palmer (2002, 99), “this implies that wine at Knossos and Pylos was a valued offering to the gods and may have had its own offering series as olive oil did; its presence only on tablets listing a variety of food items is due to the accident of preservation.” That large quantities of wine were directly given to deities is demonstrated by a few important tablets. Poseidon received more than 170 liters of wine directly and 600 liters of wine were given to the sanctuary at Pakijana (Py Un 718). Gods often received precious drinking vessels with which they could receive their wine offerings. On a tablet from Pylos (Tn 316), thirteen gold vessels, including three kylikes and two chalices, are to be distributed to several gods (Palaima 2004, 220–221). The gods’ thirst (for wine?) is reinforced by a scene on a ring from Tiryns, where hippo-shaped daemons carry elongated pitchers to a seated goddess holding up a kylix cup (Whittaker 2008, 91 n. 20). Some of these texts could be describing provisions for daily meals for the gods, a practice often attested in Mesopotamia, Sumeria, Babylonia, and among the Hittites. In the Knossos Fs series, wine and oil, along with four other commodities, were delivered in small fixed amounts to sanctuaries or deities (e.g., pa-de Fs 8) in Crete (Murray 1979, 140–141, 268). These gifts are most plausibly interpreted as token offerings, because the amounts are too small to feed a large number of people. One hypothesis is that these small gifts were meant to work in connection with kernoi, round ritual stones with small,

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circular depressions around the outside (de Fidio 1977, 109). Interestingly, on these eighteen tablets, amounts are calculated proportionally according to a formula: wine and oil appear in consistent proportion to figs, wheat and honey. It is therefore conceivable to glimpse the value of wine and oil in relation to other food items (Palmer 1994). Consistently, there is: twice as much wine as oil; half the amount of honey to oil; wine and wheat in the same amount; three times as many figs as wine. It is therefore possible that oil was twice as expensive as wine, and honey was twice as expensive as oil. Wine was three times more valuable than figs and had the same value as wheat. Of course, this is speculative and these proportions could just as plausibly be connected to the amounts necessary for specific rituals. The Linear B tablets also provide a tantalizing glimpse of individual people giving gifts of oil and wine directly to gods. On a tablet from Pylos, Un 718, *Egkhes-aluon (presumably the wanax) gives a variety of goods, including wine and a bull to Poseidon. On the same tablet, three other individual people give varying amounts of wine to Poseidon, presumably from their own estates. In this case, the goods are clearly not provided by the palace itself. Rather, the palace is acting as an overseeing body for the exchange, perhaps even physically collecting and delivering the goods to the god (Palmer 1994, 103). Archaeological evidence for offerings given to gods is less forthcoming. There are, however, a few indications of this practice in the equipment found within sanctuaries. Small tripod offering tables are commonly found in Mycenaean shrines including: the Temple in the Cult Center at Mycenae (Room 18; Moore and Taylour 1999, 84–85), Room A at Methana (Konsolaki-Yannopoulou 2004, 64), the Shrine Area at Midea (Walberg 2007, 62), and the West Shrine at Phylakopi (Renfrew 1985, 340). Significantly, at Mycenae, an offering table was set in front of a ritual terracotta figure, similar to one found at Pylos. In this case, it is almost as if the god is present and physically receiving the offering. In this context, perhaps kylikes found there were for presentation of wine to the gods (Whittaker 2008, 91–92). This case is a good example of the blurred lines between libation and offering as gift exchange and commensal exchange. Archaeological evidence is especially vague when it comes to distinguishing between these types of exchanges using oil and wine. Combined with written evidence, however, variations in the type of exchange occurring between people and the divine is easier to see. In all situations, oil and wine seem to have been integral to the proper functioning of the act itself.

Gifts to the Dead The predominance of drinking vessels including cups, jugs, kantharoi, and goblets, in mortuary contexts from as early as the Middle Bronze Age attests to

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the importance of drinking as a symbol of status in the afterlife (Wright 2004, 18). That the deceased required liquids and drink offerings can be seen through remnants of libations given to the them and gifts to the dead placed within graves. In contrast to the Minoan palatial era, archaeological evidence for libations and offerings is relatively plentiful during the Mycenaean palatial era and can be used to reconstruct predominant practices and how those practices changed over time and region.12 The types of vessels and, in some cases, the residues from within, suggest that olive oil and wine were the most common liquids used for both libations and grave offerings. The value of oil and wine in these contexts therefore remained high as they became necessary components of any ritualized gift exchange with the dead. Although libations are an “evanescent custom,” libations connected with mortuary ritual can be inferred both inside tombs and, most prominently, outside the entrance to tombs (Cavanagh 1998, 106).13 At the cemetery of Magoula in Galatas a Mycenaean tholos tomb (Tomb 1) contained an altar-like structure and kylikes of normal and miniature size. This equipment might indicate the practice of libation or other ceremonies related to the altar (Konsolaki-Yannopoulou 2001, 218). However, the presence of animal bones might indicate that ritual dining took place here as well. At Apatheia in Galatas, a group of Mycenaean chamber tombs presented evidence for libation rituals inside the tomb. Deposited near their inner entrance were small plain jugs with an empty space where a person could have stood to perform the offering (Tombs B1, A1, A5; Konsolaki-Yannopoulou 2001, 217). One of these jugs even had a carefully pierced hole at the belly after firing, which would have allowed the liquid to pour out in an interesting way. This idea of liquid being poured into the vessel through one opening, then poured out another is a staple attribute of vessels called rhyta. These ritual vessels were always associated with libation and have been found within more cemeteries than sanctuaries (Koehl 1981, 186). The most common ritual act of libation to the dead was performed in front of the entrance to Mycenaean tombs. The presence of smashed kylikes is often interpreted as a “farewell toast.” This custom seems to have been restricted in both time and distribution, specifically connected to Mycenaean palatial regions. This ritual for the deceased has been noted at cemeteries associated with Mycenae, Prosymna, Dendra, Kokla, Asine, Berbati, and Deiras in the Argolid, and Volimidia in Messenia (Cavanagh and Mee 1998, 115). The number of kylikes found can range from one to over forty. For example, two kylikes were found smashed in front of the entrance of the tholos tomb at Kokla, Argolid, along with the skeletons of two intact sheep or goats. Their intactness emphasizes that these acts were part of ritual activities, rather than dining activities (Demakopoulou 1990, 121, figs. 21–23). On the other end of the spectrum, seventy kylikes were found at Panaghitsa tomb 1 at Mycenae; forty

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kylikes were found in the entrance of tomb 13 at Dendra; and up to thirty-four at Prosymna tomb 10 (Aström 1977, 106, 112). In contrast, kylikes are almost unknown from the hundreds of tombs in the region of Achaia in the northwest Peloponnese (Cavanagh and Mee 1998, 115). In reference to the variations present in this particular “toasting” exchange with the dead, Cavanagh (1998, 106) states, “if the precise occasion is open to uncertainty, the broad import of the custom is accepted. This is a liminal rite, at the blocking of the tomb, it is a classic rite of separation involving the smashing of the vessels, and evidently a collective rite involving more than one mourner.” Moreover, the overlap between libations to the gods and to the dead is exemplified by the paintings on the Haghia Triada sarcophagus. Side A depicts two priestesses accompanied by a lyre-player, performing pouring rites. The officiating priestess pours the contents of a bucket into a large krater. A red line extending from the bucket to the krater has been interpreted as blood (Marinatos 1968, 26), but could also be wine (Long 1974, 36). Gifts to the dead, or grave offerings, are found in almost every tomb of this period. Based on the types of ceramic shapes present, it is clear that oil and wine were essential components of these gifts. Residue analysis can help confirm that oil and wine were contained within these vessels. At the LM III cemetery of Armenoi a small stirrup jar contained pure olive oil without any other detectable ingredient (Beck et al. 2008, 23). At Mycenae, residue analysis suggests that some of these vessels contained wine, maybe even resinated wine (French 2011a). That Mycenaeans believed it was necessary for the deceased to have some amount of oil and wine can be inferred from the vast amount of oil and wine containers found in tombs. While the quantity and quality of containers varied, it seems that a jug and a drinking cup in any material was indispensable and everyone was entitled to at least one of each (Protonatariou-Deilaki 1990, 80). The jug and drinking cup make specific claims to the presence and necessity of wine for the proper burial of a deceased person. Oil too seems to have been valued in a similar way. The earliest Mycenaean burial customs include unguent vessels, first alabastra, then stirrup jars. The use of the unguents is debated, although the two most prominent ideas relate to the anointment of the body or perfumed oil as “an especially appropriate offering” (Cavanagh 1998, 106). Once established in the seventeenth century BCE, this custom of accompanying burials with oil flasks persists for well over a thousand years. The consistency in the types of vessels found within Late Bronze Age tombs, especially those closer to palatial regions, is striking. Just as the palaces seem to have had a hand in the practice of funerary feasts, they may have also influenced the giving of funerary offerings. Cavanagh and Mee (1998, 135) in their thorough study of Mycenaean tombs, believe that the palaces might have directly controlled conspicuous display and the types of offerings placed in

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graves. If this is indeed the case, then the control that the central authorities could exert over such exchanges was quite comprehensive. Statistical analysis on the prevalence of vessel types within tombs of the Mycenaean era confirms the overabundance of both closed pouring containers and open cups intended for the use of the deceased. The presence of cups as offerings (and perhaps not for ritual drinking by the living) is made most apparent in the Kokla tholos tomb in the Argolid, where eight silver and gold cups were found resting on an offering bench (Demakopoulou 1990, 119–122; Gallou 2003, 275).14 In the Argolid and Corinthia, the range of pottery given to the dead is remarkably consistent. Open shapes consistently form almost 40 percent of the assemblage of the tombs, whereas jars make up about 15 percent, jugs 18 percent, unguent 13 percent, and oil containers 19 percent. In Messenia, there are more jugs and unguent containers and fewer open shapes. Within these regions, there is an element of conservatism except that stirrup jars displace alabastra in LH III. This widespread change might have been influenced by palatial involvement in the perfumed oil industry (Cavanagh and Mee 1998, 72). In contrast, kylikes are extremely rare in Achaia and Elis, but open shapes were still represented by cups and bowls. Here, alabastra and stirrup jars predominate, which might indicate less emphasis on feasting (Cavanagh and Mee 1998, 73–74). Still further variation is indicated by tombs from Attica, where stirrup jars are nearly absent. This stark absence led Emily Vermeule in the 1950s to remark “where are the stirrup-jars?” (quoted in Cavanagh 1998, 109). That this was a particular choice by the inhabitants of Mycenaean Athens is apparent when one considers that after the palatial collapse, the stirrup jar became the most common vessel in Attic tombs of the Postpalatial era, a topic to which we will return in the following chapter. One final aspect of grave gifts is worth mentioning. Although not as frequent as small closed containers, large ceramic jars or amphoras for oil or wine have also been found in Mycenaean tombs. For example, two large amphoras for liquids were found near the feet of a boy in a tumulus (E, grave 5 (92)) at Argos (Protonotariou-Deilaki 1990, 76, fig. 14a). Although it might seem strange to give so much wine or oil to a child, it was a general trend that children in the Argolid received more offerings than adults. This tomb also had gold sheets, daggers and a sword (Protonotariou-Deilaki 1990, 79). In this case, the large amount of oil or wine were perhaps symbolic of the youth’s status. Imported amphoras have also been found in Mycenaean mainland tombs. Most prominently, Canaanite jars imported from the Levant and Egypt have been found in tholos tombs at Menidi, Pylos III, and chamber tombs: Athens Agora tomb 1 (N21-2), Mycenae tombs 58, 94–95, Argos tomb 6, Asine tomb 2, and Thebes Kastellia (Cavanagh and Mee 1998, 70 with references). Although the mainland palaces imported large quantities of oil from Crete in transport stirrup jars

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(to which we will return shortly), they only rarely deposit these vessels in tombs. Instead, this particular type of gift seems to have been restricted to Cretans, as transport stirrup jars are found in thirty-one tombs across Crete (Haskell et al. 2011, 153–154). OIL AND WINE IN COMMERCIAL EXCHANGE

Written and archaeological evidence from the Mycenaean palatial era suggests that oil and wine were used for both large and small-scale commercial exchanges. At the same time, the role of the central authority within these exchanges becomes increasingly apparent, especially when compared to the previous Neopalatial era. Palatial written documents record a handful of commercial transactions involving oil and wine. These exchanges range from payments for services to acquisition of different commodities. For example, a tablet from the House of the Oil Merchant at Mycenae (MY Fo 101) was found among many transport stirrup jars and pithoi and records oil (presumably from those storerooms) to be distributed to textile workers (Tournavitou 1995). Wine could be given to palatial workers for their craft or as payment. For example, in the Pylos mixed commodity tablets, wine was apportioned as an ingredient in perfume manufacture probably for its alcoholic/acidic nature or fragrant odor (Palmer 1994, 116). An important mixed commodity tablet from Pylos (An 35.5-.6) lists wine as one of several commodities exchanged for alum. The presence of wine in relatively large amounts on this tablet suggests that the recipient had the means to transport it (e.g., ship or pack animal) and a use for it at his destination. The quantity of wine and its exchange for a precious metal might imply that the recipient was a trader or merchant (Palmer 1994, 101). These examples, though few, make clear the central authority’s control over resources and its ability to exchange surplus oil and wine for required goods and services. The best evidence for commercial exchange strategies, however, remains the material record. Specifically, surplus oil and wine trade during the Mycenaean palatial era is characterized by mass production of transport stirrup jars, increased regional and directional trade of oil and wine between Crete and the mainland palaces, detailed administrative accounting of these transactions, and an increase in the distribution of Cretan and mainland stirrup jars throughout the Mediterranean.

Mass Production of Transport Stirrup Jars Archaeological evidence suggests that during the Mycenaean palatial era, the shape and decoration of transport stirrup jars became simplified at the same time that there seems to be a shift to a centralized production strategy. The basic

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transport stirrup jar shape remained relatively consistent with those produced in the previous Neopalatial era, with heights ranging from 38 to 48 cm and capacities generally varying between 12 and 14 liters (Haskell et al. 2011, Rutter 2014, Pratt 2016a, 44 n. 66). However, the idiosyncratic labeling mechanisms including the addition of a third handle, pierced cap, and spout horns, seem to have fallen out of use entirely. In addition, the prevalence of highly decorated examples also diminished substantially. Instead, transport stirrup jars are almost exclusively decorated with linear bands, although some receive a stylized octopus design in the form of elongated wavy lines. Finally, this era sees the introduction of Linear B inscriptions on the shoulders of some stirrup jars. Most of the transport stirrup jars manufactured on Crete were produced in one of two regions: west Crete, which specialized in light-on-dark and Linear B painted transport stirrup jars (Figure 3.8), and central Crete, which produced mostly dark-on-light (Figure 3.9). A few Linear B inscribed stirrup jars originated from central Crete, but they are still quite limited in number when compared with west Cretan vessels. A much smaller production location was also located somewhere in east Crete (Haskell et al. 2011). Within these regions

3.8 West Cretan transport stirrup jar from the Kadmeion at Thebes marked with Linear B. Haskell et al. 2011, Pl. 21, TH05. Image courtesy of H. Haskell and INSTAP Academic Press, Philadelphia, PA

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3.9 Central Cretan transport stirrup jar, LM IIIB, found in Tomb 50, Kourion, Cyprus. British Museum GR 1896.2-1.265. BM Cat Vases C501. Photo by author

were subgroups, including at least two workshops in the area of Khania in west Crete and a south-central variant, probably produced in the Mesara near Kommos and Phaistos, some examples of which have a simplified octopus decoration and “oatmeal” fabric (Day et al. 2011, 544, 546–547; Stockhammer 2008, 95 n. 466). Many Mesara transport stirrup jars are found in Mycenaeanera (LM IIIB) contexts at Knossos, perhaps indicating a connection between the south-central and north-central production regions (Haskell 2005, 239). These patterns may indicate that transport stirrup jars were produced in a relatively restricted number of regions on the island (Day et al. 2011; Pratt 2016a, 44). This pattern is made especially evident when compared with the production patterns of amphoras, which maintained the regional production strategy discussed in the previous chapter (see also Pratt 2016a, 53–54). These patterns may indicate that transport stirrup jars were produced within a centralized production system, where a smaller number of producers (or clusters of producers) provided the majority of vessels to the other regions. In this way, each production center or workshop cluster would have served a relatively large geographical area encompassing multiple communities. The vessels produced in this mode would have had consistent fabric sources (e.g.,

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Mesara Plain, Khania region) across large areas served by the few centers. In addition, the vessels’ manufacturing techniques would have been consistent over large regions, as would their form and decoration. For example, the workshop in the Mesara Plain produced transport stirrup jars using the same techniques and decorative motifs (including dark-on-light decoration and octopus motifs). This is paralleled by the consistent light-on-dark decoration and shape of transport stirrup jars originating from western Crete, despite the possibility of multiple workshops clustered near Khania. In fact, these vessels have a high degree of standardization in size and capacity, which may also be evidence of a regulated production mode. Centralized production can normally be associated with an overarching administrative system that governs this process (Keswani 2009, 112–113). It is also in the Mycenaean palatial era that Linear B inscriptions are painted on the belly or shoulder of the pots themselves before firing. Inscriptions on the pots and texts related to the oil and wine industry may provide insights into who made transport stirrup jars, the producers’ association with oil and wine makers, and the type of oversight provided by provincial or palatial officials. Most Linear B-painted stirrup jars (a.k.a. inscribed stirrup jars) derive from Knossos and Khania (both administrations also used Linear B tablet recording), although Khania seems to have been the predominant location for the use of these signs. There is also some possibility for a limited number of Linear B painted transport stirrup jars originating elsewhere. For example, three inscribed stirrup jars found at Thebes (TH Z 866–868) most likely originated from south-central Crete. As an added complication, the fabric of the jar found at the Unexplored Mansion of Knossos is somewhat anomalous. Therefore, it is impossible to say to what degree Knossos managed central Cretan inscribed stirrup jars. In addition, a few inscribed stirrup jars have been found at Malia, although fabric analyses suggest that they are imports from two or three other regions (Driessen et al. 2014). Thus far, not one inscribed stirrup jar has been recovered from Kommos. The lack of inscribed stirrup jars at this southern port might suggest a different type of regulation or separate trade network from that of transport stirrup jars originating in or emanating from the north coast of the island. Linear B inscribed Cretan transport stirrup jars are often found at palaces on the mainland, including large caches at Thebes and Tiryns as well as a few at Mycenae. These palatial connections might suggest that the contents of Cretan jars, and west Cretan jars in particular, were in high demand (Hallager and Hallager 2011, 380). The painted Linear B signs are usually large, can be hastily or carefully painted, and may consist of one, two, or three words. By far the most frequent type of inscription consists of single personal names in the nominative case. Three-word inscriptions (personal name + toponym + personal name in genitive) are second in frequency. There are also some single toponyms and a

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single sign, wa, that may be an abbreviation of wa-na-ka-te-ro. The three-word formula is similar to those on sheep tablets from Knossos that list the producer, place of production, and collector who answers to the palace (Haskell et al. 2011, 90). Van Alfen (1997, 263) suggests that these signs were meant to be read during the production process. Since it is only the collector formula that appears on inscribed stirrup jars we should take this as the model formula for all of the inscribed stirrup jars: single personal names or toponyms were abbreviations of a longer implied formula. Therefore, the personal name is the producer and the scribe recording the transport stirrup jars would already know the toponym and second personal name (the collector’s name). However, the first personal name leaves some debate. Is this the name of the potter himself, the producer of the contents of the vessel, or someone else? A logical compromise comes from Van Alfen (1997, 269) who suggests that the personal name is of the manager of the oil bottling process and that he then reports to the collector. The manager’s name on the jar indicates that the obligation has been fulfilled. The function of the inscriptions, therefore, is to trace and record the fulfillment of an individual’s obligation to provide the contents of the jars to a higher authority (Van Alfen 1997, 254; for an alternative view see Duhoux 2010 and Judson 2013). In this way, the low ratio of inscribed stirrup jars to plain transport stirrup jars can be explained: there would be one marked jar per batch whose meaning is subsequently obsolete once the jars are submitted by the manager (Van Alfen 1997, 272). Other sources, like a seal impression on the clay stopper of a jar, could convey information that the written words did not. This secondary source of information may have been the most important since we know transport stirrup jars and inscribed stirrup jars were both reused. The function of inscribed stirrup jar inscriptions as fulfillment markers means that when the inscribed stirrup jars were produced there was a region-wide centralized administration process and economic system. Without some form of bureaucratic control, it is unlikely that transport stirrup jar production could be organized and the jars exported en masse to the mainland (Van Alfen 1997, 265). The presence of the adjective wa-na-ka-te-ro on some inscribed stirrup jars and its abbreviation (wa) necessarily means that the palaces were at least partially involved, and at a very high level (TI Z 29, TH Z 839; abbreviated to wa on EL Z 1; wa incised on disk of KH Z 16). We may even speculate that wa-na-ka-te-ro in place of the collector’s name might indicate direct palatial control or ownership. This does not mean that the wanax himself received the oil but that he was involved with its manufacture (Haskell 2004). Palatial involvement in inscribed stirrup jar production is also suggested by correspondences between place-names on the inscribed stirrup jars and those recorded at Knossos on Linear B tablets (Haskell 1983, 121).

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Other bureaucratic means of recording palatial commodities align well with the process of inscribed stirrup jar marking. Nodules were “contractual performance records of individuals” in contrast to the tablets, which were archival. Consequently, nodules were part of an immediate micro-sphere of the economic hierarchy but affected the macro-sphere in that seals on the nodules suggest a higher authority involved (just as inscribed stirrup jars would have also been marked with a sealing). In this way both nodules and inscribed stirrup jars operated within a closed system where much of the information would be readily understood (Van Alfen 1997, 267). Since there are no words on the inscribed stirrup jars denoting what type of transaction occurred (unlike the nodules) there must have been only one. This one transaction suggests that the manager of oil/wine bottling was probably under contractual obligation to the collector who in turn answered to the palace on a consistent basis. In this case, the Linear B painted inscriptions on transport stirrup jars would not be promotional but rather administrative (for an alternative view that inscribed stirrup jars represent guest gifts, see Driessen et al. 2014). Interestingly, there is little information in the various palatial Linear B records on oil/wine and transport stirrup jar production. Since Linear B texts were used only for archival purposes, and everyday transactions were more suitable for other recording devices such as nodules, we may not expect to find too many records of oil/wine production. Linear B texts record absolutely nothing about transport stirrup jar production specifically, and very little on ceramic production in general. However, transport stirrup jars may make an appearance on a handful of tablets recording large oil distributions (PY Fr 1184; KN K 700 and K778). In Linear B, ka-ra-re-we (khlarewes; cf. Hesychius, 502: χλαρόν· ἐλαιηρὸς κώθων; Shelmerdine 1985, 25) has been interpreted as denoting the large coarse-ware stirrup jar. Two tablets from Knossos list 1,800 “stirrup jars” (K 700) and 180 “stirrup jars” (K 778), and a tablet from Pylos (Fr 1184) lists 38 “stirrup jars” either containing or to be filled with just over 500 liters of oil. At the very least the mention of transport stirrup jars confirms that the palaces somehow received large numbers of these containers. Moreover, the simplified characteristics of Mycenaean-era transport stirrup jars, their centralized production, and their involvement in Linear B bureaucratic regulation support their important role in the increasingly complex commercial exchanges regulated by palatial authorities.

Widespread Transport Stirrup Jar Distribution Compared to the previous Minoan Neopalatial era, the distribution of transport stirrup jars during the Mycenaean palatial era underwent a dramatic change at multiple levels. First, transport stirrup jars were increasingly used for regional trade on Crete in place of oval-mouthed amphoras. Second,

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Cretan transport stirrup jars are found in large quantities in the storage areas of mainland Mycenaean palaces, suggesting a form of directional trade between the two regions. In addition, sealing practices on the stoppers of transport stirrup jars suggest a complex network of connections between palatial authorities regulating the distribution of these vessels and their contents. Moreover, this increasingly complex exchange network necessitated access to more overseas transportation, which was made possible only through relationships with skilled craftsmen, merchants, sailors, boat builders, and the boats themselves. Increased Regional Trade on Crete: Transport Stirrup Jars vs. OvalMouthed Amphoras. The Monopalatial era (LM II–IIIA1) on Crete, I suggest, was a transitional phase when transport stirrup jar production increased at the same time that amphoras continued to be used. Although a lack of good LM II contexts on Crete precludes any definitive statement, it may be significant that many transport stirrup jars have been found in LM II contexts at Knossos, perhaps signifying that the Knossos administration already favored transport stirrup jars over amphoras for the transport and storage of liquids. Although individual published examples of transport stirrup jars are few, it has been observed that they were far more prominent than amphoras in large storage contexts of, for example, the Knossos Unexplored Mansion. Indeed, Popham et al. (1984, 176) note the paucity of large amphoras in the storerooms of the Mansion and suggest that its occupants preferred the stirrup jar. The ensuing destruction of Knossos in LM IIIA2 did not, however, hamper the spread of Cretan transport stirrup jar production and distribution (Haskell 1983, 125; 1997, 108; see also Haskell 1997, 107; Borgna 2003, 158).15 In fact, the collapse of Knossian supremacy and establishment of regional administrative centers seem to have initiated an exponential rise in the use of transport stirrup jars on the island, as well as their shipment in bulk to the Mycenaean mainland (Haskell 1985, 226). During this Final Palatial period (LM IIIA2– IIIB), the apparent division of the island into several independent political entities elicited major changes in settlement patterns on the island (Rutter 1999, 148 n. 1; see also, e.g., Hallager 1987; Shelmerdine 1992). These new regional centers are marked by major building programs at Tylissos, Haghia Triada, and Haghia Triada’s principal port town at Kommos (Rutter 1999, 139–140; Langohr 2009, 104–138, 192–206, 219–233). The use of the word wa-na-kate-ro on the inscribed stirrup jars, as discussed earlier, indicates that the states of LM IIIB Crete must have had at least one kingdom (Hallager 1987, 182–183; Hallager and Hallager 2011, 380). In terms of timing, it seems that political restructuring happened shortly after if not at the same time as the destruction of Knossos early in LM IIIA2. This is best seen in the Mesara with the building programs at Haghia Triada (Rutter 1999, 150 n. 14; Langohr 2009, 112–115)

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and Kommos (Langohr 2009, 129–137). The restructuring of power on the island produced an increase in regionally distinct ceramic styles, affecting both transport stirrup jars and amphoras. Despite their restricted production locations, as discussed earlier, transport stirrup jars traveled throughout the island in increasing numbers. Data from Final Palatial deposits indicate that relative quantities of transport stirrup jars increased dramatically, while those of amphoras declined, especially during the LM IIIB period (Pratt 2016a, 43, table 7). A comparison of transport stirrup jars and amphoras found at Khania suggests that while the numbers of both fluctuate from LM IIIA2 to LM IIIB2, their percentage of the whole ceramic deposit stays relatively stable: there are always more than twice as many transport stirrup jars as amphoras. Kommos has a slightly different trend, with transport stirrup jars surpassing round-mouthed amphoras only in the LM IIIB period. However, Kommos seems to have had an entirely different trajectory from that of other sites on Crete, as demonstrated by its invention and large-scale use of their own type of container: the plain short-necked amphora (Rutter 2000). Although only one example (at Knossos) has been identified outside of Kommos, the short-necked amphora has been recovered by the hundreds at Kommos itself and was locally produced (Day et al. 2011). The exact role of these amphoras is unclear, but they were discontinued by the end of the period. At Knossos, the number of transport stirrup jars recorded at the site during the LM IIIB period is quite high, but it is uncertain how many amphoras were present during the same period. Based on these data, it seems that during the Final Palatial era on Crete, both transport stirrup jars and amphoras were used for trade on the island. Throughout this era, however, transport stirrup jars became much more popular, surpassing amphoras at most sites as the most common Cretan bulk liquid transport container. Directional Trade between Crete and Mycenaean Palaces. The Mycenaean era on Crete marks not only the time when transport stirrup jars became a popular interregional transport container but also the point when there was a rapid increase in Cretan transport stirrup jar shipment overseas to various regions of the Mediterranean. Data on the number and origins of transport stirrup jars found outside of Crete demonstrate that the greatest numbers of them (both Cretan and other) are found in mainland Mycenaean palatial contexts (Haskell et al. 2011; Ben-Shlomo et al. 2011; Pratt 2016a). The earliest securely dated context in which we find Cretan transport stirrup jars is the House of the Wine Merchant at Mycenae, which is dated to LH IIIA (late). The fifty Cretan transport stirrup jars found there indicate that even the initial shipments of these vessels to the mainland were substantial.

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The large-scale exchange of transport stirrup jars between Crete and the mainland Mycenaean palaces could indeed represent some form of directional trade (Haskell 2005; Kanta 2005; Stockhammer 2008, 92–99; Haskell et al. 2011, 125–131). Specifically, Cretan transport stirrup jars are concentrated at a few key palatial centers in the Argolid (Tiryns, Mycenae, Midea), the Peloponnese (Menelaion; Catling 2009, 369), and Boeotia (Thebes), stored in basement facilities, and only rarely placed in more public spaces (Stockhammer 2008, 281; Ben Shlomo et al. 2011, 335). Conspicuously absent is the palace at Pylos in Messenia. Despite Pylos’s apparently close connections with Crete in both architectural and artistic styles (Immerwahr 1990, 96–137; Hiller 1996; Nelson 2001; Rutter 2005a, 20–32), only two Cretan transport stirrup jars have been identified there (Haskell et al. 2011, nos. PYL02, PYL05). Instead, there are many mainland-style transport stirrup jars recovered from the site. This may indicate that the palace at Pylos acquired its bulk oil locally or from another, closer region (Dickinson 2005, 56). Although future excavations might change this picture of Cretan transport stirrup jar distribution, current data suggest that the quantities of these vessels found at the above mainland palatial centers (i.e., more than 100 at each Mycenae and Thebes) outnumber the quantities recovered archaeologically at their places of origin on Crete. Other evidence for large-scale directional trade using Cretan transport stirrup jars and the involvement of Mycenaean palatial administration comes from the unique seal impressions found on the clay stoppers plugging the spouts of these containers (Figure 3.4). Seal stones were a common method of authentication during the Late Bronze Age. Taking the form of rings or bracelets, seal stones were intimately connected to the owner and could act as a form of personal signature. It is therefore significant when patterns in seal impressions can be located, suggesting the actions of a single individual. When included in economic transactions, seal impressions can help indicate where a particular item was produced or received and by whom. For example, a transport stirrup jar found at Mycenae on the Greek mainland has a stopper bearing a bovid sealing; according to petrographic analyses the jar originates from central Crete. However, the stopper itself seems to have originated from west Crete. The central Cretan transport stirrup jar was therefore sealed at Khania prior to being shipped to and subsequently found at Mycenae (Stockhammer 2008, 276–277. For the seals, see Tomlinson and Day 1995, 317, table 32). In addition, a stopper with the same bovid sealing closed another transport stirrup jar at Mycenae, but the jar itself is almost certainly of mainland manufacture (Haskell 1997, 103). For the LM/LH IIIB period, some scholars have speculated that Cretan transport stirrup jars represent tribute sent to certain Mycenaean palaces by Cretan elites, who were based at regional centers on the island (Maran 2005, 427–429; Stockhammer 2008, 277–278; see also Haskell 2004; Haskell et al.

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2011, 125–126).16 The examples of sealing patterns above support this idea. Both Stockhammer and Haskell suggest the possibility that Khania acted as a funnel through which all the Cretan transport stirrup jars made their way to mainland centers, thereby explaining the presence of both central and western types of transport stirrup jars at Mycenaean palaces (Stockhammer 2008, 267; Haskell et al. 2011, 120). This idea is corroborated by the discovery of both regional varieties of transport stirrup jars at Khania. In addition, Khania has the highest numbers of Mycenaean imported LH IIIA2 and LH IIIB1 pottery, which indicate its particularly close relationship with the mainland (Hallager 2005). The status of Khania as a regional administrative center with connections to the Mycenaean mainland is clear from the use of Linear B and the presence of Mycenaean cultural practices and ceramic styles. Expanding Connections: Mediterranean Distribution of Aegean Transport Stirrup Jars. The relationship between Crete and the mainland, as outlined earlier, is only one part of a much larger and complex story. Transport stirrup jars were shipped to many other regions of the eastern Mediterranean. As a consequence, these containers are often concentrated at harbor locations – both on Crete (Khania, Kommos, Palaikastro, perhaps Poros-Katsambas) and in the Levant and Cyprus – and found on almost all Late Bronze Age shipwrecks. Demand for Aegean oil and wine fluctuated but reached its pinnacle during the late Mycenaean era. Clearly, Mycenaean olive oil and perfumed oils, in particular, had a high value in the economic network of the Late Bronze Age Mediterranean.

Distribution by Land Transport stirrup jars are found in large quantities at Near Eastern ports like Tell Abu Hawam and Ugarit. Evidence for possible directional trade with the Near East can be demonstrated by the seemingly reciprocal trade in Canaanite jars from Tell Abu Hawam to Kommos and in transport stirrup jars from southcentral Crete to Tell Abu Hawam (Ben-Shlomo et al. 2011, 346). Out of roughly forty transport stirrup jars found at the Levantine port of Tell Abu Hawam, twenty-four were examined for provenance by Ben-Shlomo et al., who concluded that seventeen had been manufactured in south-central Crete and seven showed “no evidence of Cretan provenance” (Ben-Shlomo et al. 2011, 340, table 1). Some of the transport stirrup jars identified as non-Cretan may originate from the Greek mainland (Ben-Shlomo et al. 2011, 339 n. 92). In turn, roughly onethird of the Canaanite jars recovered from Kommos are products of the region around Tell Abu Hawam (Rutter 2006a, 646–688, 712–715; 2006c, 859–863; Stockhammer 2008, 276; Ben-Shlomo et al. 2011, 348; Day et al. 2011, 551).

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More than sixty Canaanite jars have been recovered from Kommos, which is by far the largest number of Canaanite jars in one location in the Aegean. Cyprus was also the recipient of many transport stirrup jars. Additionally, several transport stirrup jars bearing incised Cypro-Minoan marks have been found at various locations in the eastern Mediterranean. This corpus include thirty-five medium-sized transport stirrup jars from the Argolid and Crete with Cypro-Minoan signs (Döhl 1979; Haskell et al. 2011, 128); two or three examples from Tell Abu Hawam (Ben-Shlomo et al. 2011, 339 n. 88, 343 n. 107–109); two from Zawiyet Umm el-Rakham (Snape 2003, 67–68, fig. 4); four from the Uluburun shipwreck (Day 1999, 68; Haskell et al. 2011, 130); one from Knossos, one from Kommos, and one from Tripiti (Hirschfeld 1993, 312, 316–317); and one from Salamis Island (Lolos 2003, 113, fig. 24). These marks are commonly found on ceramic and metallic commodities and have been convincingly interpreted as commercial marks indicating Cypriot involvement at some stage in the product’s shipment (Hirschfeld 1993, 2002, 2004, 2011). Transport stirrup jars seem to have made a small, but nevertheless significant, impact in the west; a few examples have been found in southern Italy (Haskell et al. 2011, Ben-Shlomo et al. 2011). Possibly most telling is the discovery of transport stirrup jars on all three known Late Bronze Age shipwrecks: the Uluburun, the Point Iria, and the Cape Gelidonya. That Greek olive oil had a high status in the Late Bronze Age Eastern Mediterranean may be best showcased by the presence of transport stirrup jars at the Egyptian city of Tel el-Amarna. Kelder (2009) proposes that these jars may have been a diplomatic gift from a ruler in Greece to the Pharaoh of Egypt himself. That wine, too, could have been exported in transport stirrup jars can be inferred from the other most commonly exported Aegean items. The most popular ceramic shapes exported from Greece to Cyprus, the Levant, and Egypt were wine drinking sets that included painted kraters, jugs, kylikes, and cups. These were in fact so popular that local Near Eastern artisans reproduced copies soon after the originals infiltrated the indigenous ceramic repertoire. We may speculate that resinated wine was a delicacy, as a parallel to perfumed oils, since traces of this substance have been detected in small, decorated stirrup jars, a shape that is found throughout the Near East.

Distribution by Sea The realities involved with shipping large quantities of Mycenaean oil and wine would have resulted in intensified relationships between palatial authorities, merchants, shipbuilders, and the ships themselves. It is clear that the oil and wine commercial industry, as implicated by the distribution of transport stirrup jars, relied heavily upon maritime transportation. Indeed, transport stirrup jars have been found on almost every Late Bronze Age shipwreck thus far

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discovered. The shipwreck found off the southern coast of Turkey at Uluburun had at least fourteen transport stirrup jars onboard at the time of its sinking. Ten of these transport stirrup jars were analyzed by Haskell et al. (2011) with the result that seven were originally from central Crete. These stirrup jars were most likely reused and traveling back to the Aegean. We cannot, therefore, draw conclusions about the high ratio of central Cretan transport stirrup jars as it relates to Mycenaean palatial agency and Near Eastern connections. The Point Iria shipwreck, however, presents a very different case (Figure 3.10). Found off the coast of the Argolid, the ship seems to have been carrying mainly ceramic transport containers at the time it sank. A group of eight transport stirrup jars were onboard and, based on chemical and petrographic analyses, all come from south-central Crete and probably the same workshop. The close typological grouping and the location of the shipwreck might demonstrate directed export between south-central Crete and the Argolid (Haskell 2005, 213). The late date of the Point Iria shipwreck, around 1200 BCE, supports the idea that trade connections between central Crete and the mainland continued down to the very last years of the Mycenaean palaces. Around the same time or slightly later, another ship faltered off the southern coast of Turkey. The Cape Gelidonya shipwreck had at least four transport stirrup jars onboard. Out of the two that were analyzed, one came from Crete, but it is uncertain where exactly. Two other shipwrecks, found near the island of Dokos and at Kosta-Hermionid on the Greek mainland (southern Argolid) produced at least one transport stirrup jar each, though chemical and petrographic research has yet to be conducted (for Dokos see Lolos 1991, 18; for Kosta Hermionid see Lolos 1995, 77, 79, fig. 22). Aegean Imitations of the Transport Stirrup Jar. Cretan transport stirrup jars, though most prevalent, were not the only versions produced. Instead,

3.10 Transport stirrup jar cargo of the Point Iria shipwreck. Photo by author

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there is increasing evidence for the creation and circulation of imitations in the eastern Mediterranean region during the period from ca. 1400 to 1200 BCE (Ben-Shlomo et al. 2011, 335).17 Although most transport stirrup jars found on the mainland were imported from Crete, it seems that some regions on the Greek mainland produced their own versions (Figure 3.11; Blegen and Rawson 1966, 403–406; Thomas 1992, 2005; Day and Haskell 1995; Stockhammer 2008, 92–94; Haskell et al. 2011, 22 [Type D]; Mitrou: Kramer-Hajos and O’Neill 2008, 213, nos. D93 and D94). Unlike Cretan traditions, using multiple pastes for different parts of the transport stirrup jar is not found on the Helladic mainland (Haskell et al. 2011, 332; see also Stockhammer 2008, 93 n. 445–447). In addition, mainland transport stirrup jars are made of comparatively fine fabrics and often feature single firing holes or piercings found near the handle bases or near the attachment to the false spout (P.M. Day and Haskell 1995, 96–97; Stockhammer 2008, 93 n. 449). Decoration of mainland transport stirrup jars is always dark-on-light, usually consisting of simple bands around the body with occasional decoration on the shoulder and crosses, spirals, or concentric circles on the false spout. In general, it seems that mainland transport stirrup jars are relatively few in number, at least compared to Cretan versions, and may have maintained a regional distribution. Transport stirrup jar production has been identified within the Argolid (Thomas 1992, 322 n. 117), as well as in Boeotia near Thebes (Day and Haskell 1995). Mainland transport stirrup jars have also been recovered from the palace at Pylos in Messenia, though no chemical analyses have been conducted to determine their exact provenance.

3.11 Mainland Greek transport stirrup jar from Zygouries. After Thomas 1992, 576, fig. 42.2. Image by Chelsey Gareau

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Recent research has also brought to light possible production locations of transport stirrup jars at various points along the western Anatolian coast. These transport stirrup jars are characterized by their fine fabric, including grayburnished examples from Troy, dark-on-light painted examples in a highly micaceous fabric possibly produced at Miletus, and two handmade examples with burnished surfaces from the Uluburun wreck, possibly from Rhodes. At Troy in Phase VIg levels, two stirrup jars were found that seem to have been produced in the local Gray Minyan Ware and one in local Tan Ware whose bodies resemble common Trojan jugs (Figure 3.12; Blegen et al. 1953, 240, figs. 388.3, 388.4, 395.13, 442.21). The excavator surmised that these vases might represent a Trojan variation of the stirrup jar made with local clays, which were found along with at least five other transport stirrup jars that seemed to be products of a single workshop (Blegen et al. 1953, 74). Interestingly, on the Uluburun shipwreck there were at least two examples of a similar style stirrup jar made with clay originating from Asia Minor (Haskell et al. 2011, 87). In addition, on the island of Rhodes one transport stirrup jar matches the gray ware one from the Uluburun wreck. Although it has not been confirmed by scientific analyses yet, another strange gray ware stirrup jar was found at the Mycenaean palatial site of Midea (Demakopoulou et al. 1997– 1998, 63, fig. 16). These four occurrences suggest that Trojan potters may have produced their own version of stirrup jars and subsequently shipped them to

3.12 Trojan Gray Ware transport stirrup jar. Blegen, Caskey, and Rawson 1952, fig. 331(b) 34.320. Courtesy of The Department of Classics University of Cincinnati

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destinations in the Aegean. Based on morphology alone, they seem to be related to mainland style transport stirrup jars rather than Cretan. Farther south along the coast of Asia Minor, the settlement of Miletos is now considered to be a Minoan and later Mycenaean stronghold. At least eight Minoan and Mycenaean pottery kilns have been found along with locally produced Aegean wares (Gödecken 1988; Niemeier 1997). These wares were accompanied by frescoes, Aegean architecture, and possibly even Minoan/ Mycenaean ritual. Cemeteries outside of the city produced a few transport stirrup jars and it may be possible to speculate that those too were locally made although no scientific testing has been conducted as of yet. In addition, a few transport stirrup jars recovered from the Mycenaean coastal site of Tiryns on the Greek mainland seem to have an origin at Miletus, suggesting that these too were distributed outside of Asia Minor (Stockhammer 2008, 97–98). A more concrete example of transport stirrup jar production comes from the Dodecanese island of Rhodes (Figure 3.13). This large island was a major stopping point for merchants crossing the eastern Mediterranean. It is not surprising, therefore, that the local repertoire of ceramics is a mix of Aegean, Cypriot, and Levantine styles. Mycenaean styles dominate the island’s ceramic production in LH IIIB, resulting in local copies of Aegean originals (Mee 1982, 11–33, 23, 122–33; Benzi 1992, 69–70). During their study of transport stirrup jars around the Mediterranean, Haskell et al. (2011) chemically and petrographically tested transport stirrup jars from tombs at the Rhodian cemetery of Ialysos. Stylistically, seven of these transport stirrup jars seemed to form their own type-group (Haskell et al. 2011, 22, Group E) and were found to be of local Rhodian clay. This may suggest that Rhodes had its own transport stirrup jar production center, although it is uncertain whether they were shipped elsewhere. In addition, there is some evidence to suggest limited transport

3.13 Rhodian transport stirrup jar. After Haskell et al. 2011, 20 fig. 2.28 Group E no. IAL07. Image by Chelsey Gareau

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stirrup jar production on the Cyclades or Kythera. Their provenance from the Cyclades or Kythera is suggested based on the high proportion of silver mica in their fabrics. The few possible examples that have come to light, however, derive from Postpalatial Tiryns, which might complicate their origins in the palatial era (Stockhammer 2008, fig. 22, 97, 152–153, 190, 216). Based on these multiple imitations of a relatively unwieldy shape, it seems that transport stirrup jars may have had a symbolic value in and of themselves. As will be further discussed later, the transport stirrup jar may also have acted as a kind of “brand” representing the source and quality of its contents, thereby simultaneously having an extra-Aegean symbolic value. The distinctive shape of transport stirrup jars was unique in the Mediterranean at this time. It would therefore be easily recognized on the wider Mediterranean market as it travelled outside of Crete and mainland Greece. CHAPTER CONCLUSIONS

Oil and wine were undoubtedly two of the most crucial components of social, political, and economic exchanges (and all combinations thereof) in the Mycenaean palatial era. Oil and, especially, wine became critical for the successful enactment of commensal exchanges, as demonstrated not only by archaeological remains of immense palatial storage facilities, but also through documented quantities reaching thousands of liters of wine. Exchanges with the dead and with deities also required significant portions of wine and oil to be toasted, libated, and offered. Large-scale economic exchanges using specialized containers for transporting immense quantities of oil and wine became relatively common and are represented through distributions of transport stirrup jars from Italy to Asia Minor. During the Mycenaean palatial era, the high value attributed to oil and wine, as carried over from the Minoan palatial era, was formulated in new ways through the calculations of different agents participating in the above exchanges. These same networks of people and things created an entanglement that increased in scale and centrality when compared to the previous Minoan entanglement. Oil and wine not only retained their importance, but became further solidified as true cultural commodities – that is, commodities that were not only useful, convenient, or trendy, but in fact necessary for the proper enactment of the commensal, gift, and commercial exchanges. How does the evidence for exchange of oil and wine, as presented in this chapter, reflect changing relationships of value and dependency between people and those two commodities? Based on a synthetic view of the data, we can see meaningful changes to patterns in the scale, context, and characteristics of exchange modes from the Minoan era to the Mycenaean palatial era that, when considered together, display the different ways in which the high

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values of oil and wine were constructed. At the same time, the evidence also indicates that a larger portion of the population participated in the exchange of both commodities. For commensal exchange, large-scale events changed in nature from being largely inclusive in the Minoan era to divisive in the Mycenaean era, emphasizing social stratification and power through participatory contexts and equipment.18 Although the locations for these events remained centralized, regulated, and restricted, they adopted new inside/outside divisions that highlighted the status of the individuals positioned in those locations. In addition, the quality of drinking equipment was directly proportional to the location of the participant. The move from pouring wine into small hidden conical cups to ladling wine from mixing bowls into kylikes to be raised up highlights the changing values associated with performative drinking rituals. In addition, regulated perfumed oil manufacture within the Mycenaean palace can be contrasted with the relatively loose regulations of the Minoan palatial era. This shift might suggest that palatial authorities sought to exclusively control the production of these oils in order to affect the value of the commodity within exchange contexts. The increasing importance of wine and oil to commensal exchanges can also be viewed when comparing pre-Mycenaean practices to those of the palatial era. As highlighted in this chapter, there was a significant increase in the scale and frequency of events on the Greek mainland throughout the course of the Late Bronze Age as the palatial authorities increasingly gained (bureaucratic?) control. Diacritical feasting events used surplus wine and oil for the maintenance of elite ideologies and power through the control of their value within the collective consciousness. The high value of oil and wine in the Mycenaean palatial era can also be seen through archaeological and written evidence for non-commensal gift exchange. On Linear B tablets, wine and oil are the two most common commodities listed as offerings to deities. Both commodities were also given as gifts to the deceased. These gifts seem to have come in the form of libations and grave goods. Remains of kylikes and jugs found at the entrance to tombs suggest pouring and drinking rituals, a sort of “farewell toast.” Inside the tombs, the deceased was almost always given both containers with unguent/perfumed oil and jugs and drinking cups. The value of oil and wine as gifts, at least within religious and funerary contexts, is incontrovertible. That this high value was constructed differently in the Mycenaean palatial era can best be seen by the control (either direct or indirect) that the palatial authorities seem to have exerted over funerary and ritual practices involving oil and wine. The homogeneity of ritual drinking and gifting equipment within regions where palatial authorities existed is indicative of their influence. Changes to patterns in commercial exchange from the Minoan to the Mycenaean palatial eras can also be indicative of new ways of formulating the

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high value and importance of oil and wine. The direct value of olive oil is made apparent on a tablet from Pylos where olive oil was exchanged for alum, a precious metal. An indirect value for oil is also indicated by the mass production of stirrup jars, their overseas shipment, and their imitation in other Mediterranean locations. For commercial exchange, the specialized transport stirrup jar, invented in the previous era, was mass-produced at a small number of sites on Crete. Some of them received labels in Linear B and hundreds of them have been found in palatial storerooms. Transport stirrup jars were shipped all over the eastern Mediterranean and have been found on nearly all shipwrecks. Yet, their value is perhaps most strongly seen when taking into consideration the plethora of imitations created throughout the eastern Mediterranean during the Mycenaean era. Why would a cumbersome Minoan pot become so popular in the Mycenaean era? Ultimately, these many attempts to imitate the transport stirrup jar shape suggest that the high value of these jars and their contents was constructed within a larger network that incorporated many more and varied agents at this particular point in time. Based on their distribution, it seems that transport stirrup jars had a substantial presence on the Mediterranean market during the Mycenaean era. They not only carried Mycenaean commodities but also acted as representations of Aegean commodities to many different populations. This value afforded to stirrup jars and their contents compelled at least some people to create their own versions and exchange them. As discussed in the previous chapter, we can acknowledge the fact that there is no sure way to prove the presence of dependency through archaeological material. Nevertheless, it is useful to examine the patterns produced over many relationships between people, oil, and wine. It is the increase in scale, not just in feasting events, but also in production, storage, and amphora distribution, that conveys some underlying connection. For the Mycenaean palatial era, we can also see an increase in directionality and a decrease in the overall number of major nodes within the relationship. What I suggest is that there is a strong correlation between these changes and the strengthening of a relationship of dependency. The value of oil and wine within exchange contexts, as outlined earlier, is made explicit by the size, ubiquity, and status of exchange events. This value is only accessed through the ability to gather and distribute surplus agricultural commodities. In turn, surplus agricultural commodities accessed a network of influence and power that extended beyond the palace and into the hinterland, affecting the land, plants, and the people that tended them. Not only were the olive trees and grapevines drawn into an increasingly intense relationship with humans as more and better fruit was demanded, but also people became increasingly reliant on each other to provide the resources – including surplus labor – to create sufficient amounts of oil and wine, as required by central authorities. At the same time, elites and aspiring elites

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needed skilled potters to produce the thousands of specialized drinking cups necessary for state-sponsored feasts, as well as religious and funerary events. Although potters are not frequently mentioned in Linear B records, there is some indication that a few potters were attached to the palace at Pylos and still others specialized in kylix manufacture (Whitelaw 2001). Therefore, the high value of oil and wine within the cultural economy of Mycenaean-era Greece was intimately tied to the increasing strength of the dependencies between people and things that enveloped the production and exchange of these commodities. When thinking about the variation in scale and centralization of entanglements over time, the Mycenaean relationships around oil and wine became larger in scale and more centralized compared to the previous Minoan era. In general, more centralized entanglements are actively affected by the centrality of one particular node or type of node. That is, certain nodes have more influence than others. For Mycenaean Greece, the central authorities, seated in palatial structures, regulated most aspects of surplus production, distribution, and consumption. That is not to say that they controlled every aspect of the economy. Rather, the palatial authorities seem to have had an influence, whether direct or indirect, in the choices made during acts of exchange. This certainly included an influence on the value of the things exchanged and their importance within the broader network of relationships. There are a few patterns in the archaeological record that support the presence of a more centralized entanglement in the Mycenaean palatial era. When it comes to production, presses and processing equipment used for the manufacture of oil and wine are no longer found in private residences. Instead, they are found in centralized locations in settlements or within the palaces themselves. In addition, Linear B writing on transport stirrup jars implies the explicit involvement of the palatial authorities, who presumably had a direct effect on the production and shipment of some olive oil and wine. For commensal exchange, even though the palaces were not exclusive producers of wine and oil, they nevertheless seem to have taken a leading role in the creation of specific religious and social associations with eating and drinking.19 The palatial authorities achieved these associations through exclusive statesponsored feasting events. The influence exerted over non-palatial feasting can be seen through the archaeological record of funerary feasts, which seem to imitate state-sponsored events. In non-commensal gift exchanges, the palaces also seem to have had some influence. Specifically, palaces controlled, perhaps exclusively, perfumed oils. Most burials included small, decorated containers usually interpreted as containing scented oils, which perhaps had to come from palatial stores. A shift in the type of small containers themselves might indicate palatial control since palaces seem to have adopted stirrup jars as the container of choice and the use of these vessels for funerary gifts increased substantially

CHAPTER CONCLUSIONS

during the Mycenaean palatial era. In addition, Linear B records indicate that the palaces controlled and regulated ritual offerings of oil and wine to various deities, even offerings originating outside of the palaces. Patterns in commercial exchange during the Mycenaean palatial era also suggest the entanglement became more centralized. Palatial involvement in the production of transport stirrup jars increased dramatically in the Mycenaean era. Whereas, during the Minoan Neopalatial era, the introduction of the transport stirrup jar was itself a marker of the increase in dependency on surplus oil and wine for long-distance commercial exchange, it is clear that this shape transitioned to a more prominent role in commercial exchange during the last part of the Late Bronze Age. Specifically, while Neopalatial central authorities seem to have been concerned with regulating the limited quantities of transport stirrup jars and their contents, assigning them increased value, Mycenaean palatial authorities were more concerned with their streamlined production en masse. In addition, much of the commercial exchange that took place in the Neopalatial era bypassed the central authorities using more local or regional oval mouthed amphoras. This type of exchange diminished in the Mycenaean era. At the same time, directional trade between Crete and the mainland palaces increased substantially using transport stirrup jars. The central authorities and palaces were unequivocally the most prominent nodes in the network of relationships during the Mycenaean palatial era. While they certainly did not retain exclusive rights to the production and exchange of oil and wine, they nevertheless seem to have been heavily involved in surplus management.

Oil and Wine as Cultural Commodities in the Mycenaean Era The high value of oil and wine and the increasing relationships of dependency between people and these two commodities were affected by three new factors present from the beginning of the Mycenaean era: the increased centrality of palaces, the increasing reliance of central authorities on the produce of the hinterland, and the increasing importance of overseas trade. The Mycenaean palatial era of the Late Bronze Age institutionalized the dependency between people and oil and wine through the institutionalization and homogenization of physical structures, ritual actions, and commercial transactions. The palaces reinforced the dependency already in place from the previous Neopalatial era by directly producing those dependencies and controlling them. Mycenaean palatial architecture was highly standardized throughout the Greek mainland and Crete. This standardization implies a standard of actions and events that took place there. Commensal events, with oil and wine playing prominent roles, obtained a significant amount of attention from palatial authorities, as recorded in the Linear B records and the archaeological remains of feasting supplies, including wine and oil storage,

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found within palaces. In the Mycenaean world, banqueting became a powerful competitive instrument, peculiar to small-scale network communities. It has been argued that political actors of exclusionary polities, such as the Mycenaean palaces, developed a political system around their monopoly of sources of power based on a network of exchange relations, in which the individual dimension never faded (Galaty and Parkinson 2007). Oil and wine became a significant source of power for Mycenaean elites, especially within the context of commensal and commercial exchange where large quantities of surplus were required. Consequently, feasts would occur frequently and “constitute an active and dynamic means of social exclusions and attainment of power” (Borgna 2004, 266–267). The palatial need for large surpluses of oil and wine did not stop at the level of state-sponsored events. The payment texts found in the palace at Pylos record enough food, including wine, to fully support ca. 1,800 individuals for 1 month, about 60 percent of the population of the town. This is not as extensive as classical redistribution, but it is clear that palatial disbursements represent a substantial contribution to staple consumption within the Pylian polity (Nakassis 2010, 138). Certainly, some of this distribution was intended for supplying communal commensal events of one kind or another, but the details surrounding these events are unclear. This outstanding palatial dependency on surplus commodities for large-scale exchange might have resulted in significant consequences to the overall entanglement. Indeed, one could argue that the palatial assertion of dependency on oil and wine overstepped the natural balance between production and consumption, thereby destabilizing the entanglement surrounding the oil and wine industry. Specifically, there was a sudden necessity for a massive increase in the production of commodities, not least oil and wine, and the containers necessary to transport, store, and consume them. This value as a result of need produced an increased dependency on the people and products of the hinterland. The topics covered in the Linear B records already indicate a significant investment in the control and regulation of agricultural land. This focus on land survey is a product of the Mycenaean economy, not a holdover from the Minoan palatial era. While the extent of the control of the palaces over territory is greatly debated, it is nevertheless clear that they did not directly own most of the land. Instead, surplus was acquired through taxation and assessment.20 The tablets also suggest that the palaces not only acquired goods, but also people in a similar way. Linear B records from Pylos (e.g., PY An 207) suggest that workers did not work for the palace in their own villages, but were recruited from there for service at the palace or some other central location. These personnel include religious workers, sawyers, potters, goldsmiths, bow-makers and perhaps leather-sewers (Killen 2006, 84). Considering the limited number of topics covered by Linear B tablets, the large quantity of texts related to acquiring

CHAPTER CONCLUSIONS

surplus goods or labor is indicative of the palatial dependency on these products and people for the proper functioning of exchanges. In any model of the Mycenaean economy (wealth finance, staple finance, or prestige), there is a necessity for huge support from the hinterland through both direct contributions of commodities and indirect contributions through payment or rations (Nakassis 2010).21 The value of oil and wine and their status as cultural commodities was also greatly affected by the increasing importance of overseas trade to the cultural economy of Mycenaean Greece. Mycenaean elites relied on external trade for the acquisition of goods that empowered them (Burns 2010). This desire for prestige goods generated a need to supply external markets with products. Perfumed oil (and perhaps wine) seems to have been one of the primary exports of the Mycenaean world. The most commonly found Mycenaean imports at sites in the Mediterranean are small, closed, elaborately decorated vessels (most likely for holding perfumed oils), followed by open vessels associated with wine drinking, such as kylikes and kraters. For example, out of a total of 206 imported Mycenaean vessels found in the tombs at Ugarit, 101 were closed vessels (stirrup jars, piriform jars, alabastra, and flasks) and 77 were consumption vessels (kraters, cups, stemmed cups, bowls; van Wijngaarden 2002, 288). At the site of Enkomi on Cyprus, mortuary contexts produced 973 imported Mycenaean ceramics, of which 467 were consumption vessels and 426 were small closed vessels (van Wijngaarden 2002, 296). From LH I–LH IIIB, 348 sites around the central and eastern Mediterranean received Mycenaean pottery (van Wijngaarden 2002, 302–303 Map 1). Prominent within this collection of imported Mycenaean ceramic shapes is the transport stirrup jar, which conveyed bulk quantities of Aegean oil and/or wine throughout the Mediterranean. The stirrup jar became a type of “brand” for Aegean products (Bevan 2010). This brand was based on stirrup jar recognition, which stimulated the imitation of stirrup jars throughout the eastern Mediterranean. Demand for these Aegean commodities by other Mediterranean cultures perpetuated the propagation of the brand and its imitations. This scenario is very different from the previous Neopalatial era. Previously, the value of oil and wine was purely contained within the Minoan palatial economy and its access to surplus commodities. The palaces then used surplus oil and wine to maintain transactions necessary for the longevity of the elites currently in power. Yet, at that point, access to surplus oil and wine was not entirely within their control. In the Mycenaean palatial era, however, control of surplus oil and wine became a staple concern of palatial administration. By controlling large quantities of surplus oil and wine, as well as their containers, the elites could tap into a larger Mediterranean economy. Once firmly established within this Mediterranean economy, an external demand for Aegean oil and wine helped to perpetuate the central authority’s control.

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Because there was an increase in the production of surplus oil and wine, elites gained access to a larger maritime market. Access to the market meant access to precious materials, signs of wealth and power. Acquisition of these materials, in turn, fueled the desire to produce, and therefore control, more surplus production of oil and wine. This situation differs dramatically from the previous Neopalatial era when surplus oil and wine was not predominantly used as a means of interacting with other people and the things that surround them. Instead, surplus was used primarily as an internal mechanism of power and value acquisition. The Mycenaean-era desire to regulate the production, distribution, and consumption of surplus oil and wine could not be maintained. This tenuous situation became especially apparent once the broader external market substantially diminished after the destruction of major Near Eastern cities and social disruptions at the end of the Late Bronze Age. After all, it was the ability to tap into this broader exchange network that was simultaneously providing power to central authorities while driving a desire to exert that power over the production process. The disruption to that market for surplus Mycenaean oil and wine was certainly one of the factors leading to the collapse of the palace economy. These moments of decline are when the negative connotations of dependency come into play. Dependent on the Mediterranean market for commercial exchange of oil/wine, the Mycenaean elites were perhaps not readily able to acquire necessary prestige objects and resources like metals. Although these Bronze Age relationships between Mediterranean cultures, as well as the shared value of oil and wine, might have contributed to the downfall of the Mycenaean citadels (along with other east Mediterranean regions), they may also have contributed to the maintenance of some form of exchange connections throughout the “Dark Ages.”

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MAINTAINING THE RELATIONSHIP Oil and Wine in Postpalatial Greece

A

round 1200 bce, the mycenaean palaces suffered a dramatic decline. Along with this socioeconomic turning point came significant changes to the ways oil and wine were produced and exchanged. And yet, both commodities remained integral to the functioning of the same types of exchanges present in the previous palatial eras. Their status as cultural commodities, as things having a high value and deep entanglement with the world around them, only seems to solidify during the centuries following the Bronze Age collapse. In fact, tracing the roles of oil and wine in the cultural economy of Postpalatial Greece provides an intriguing window onto broader continuities and changes from the previous Palatial era. The ways in which social structures, hierarchies, and economic opportunities adapted to a world without palaces are accessible through the lens of oil and wine as these commodities continued to be exchanged during commensal, gift, and commercial events. Explanations for why the Mycenaean palaces all seem to have undergone either total or partial collapse around the same time are many and varied (Dickinson 2010; Middleton 2010, 2017; Maran 2011). Both internal and external stimuli seem to have played a role and may have worked together to bring down the political and economic structures in place during the palatial Bronze Age. Earthquakes, droughts, and influxes of new people, even nonhostiles, are some of the more popular external causes attributed to the collapse. As will be discussed further in this chapter, the climate does 155

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indeed seem to undergo significant changes at this point in time, which might have contributed to stresses already in place. Internal political and social conflicts and mismanagement are also factors that might have contributed to the downfall of Mycenaean society. For example, perhaps the large-scale building projects commissioned by the ruling elite in the last part of the palatial era depleted the countryside of necessary labor for harvesting crops and supplying the palace with surplus products (Maran 2010). However, building projects at Tiryns, such as dams and cyclopean walls, and at Mycenae suggest that at some point there was conflict and crisis mitigation (wells, storage, defensive walls, and entrances) but that these issues seem to have been addressed before the final collapse took place.1 The general consensus among scholars is that a combination of factors, different for each region of Mycenaean Greece, worked together with the result that the political and social structures in place were no longer sustainable or desirable. After the collapse of the palaces, the Greek world entered into a period of transition. At one point, the Postpalatial era (LH/LM IIIC in ceramic chronology terms) was thought to have been exceedingly desolate, broken compared to the previous apex of cultural sophistication. However, the last 40 years of excavations at Postpalatial sites have brought to light a new interpretation of the society that persisted after the downfall of the palatial hierarchy. Indeed, many if not most of the Mycenaean palatial sites continued to be occupied, some of them, like Tiryns, even growing in size (Kilian 1978, 468–470). Evidence for immediate reoccupation can be detected at Tiryns, Mycenae (Iakovidis 2003; French 2007, 2011b;), Midea (Thomatos 2006, 186–188), Argos, and even Pylos (Lafayette Hogue 2016). Other non-palatial sites were reoccupied or newly established and seem to have prospered for multiple generations. Some of the most prominent nonpalatial sites include Aigeira in Achaia, Korakou in the Corinthia, Lefkandi on the island of Euboea, and many sites in coastal Lokris, Phocis, and Attica. Indeed, this coastal region of central Greece and Euboea, straddling the Euripos Strait, seems to have gained in importance from the previous palatial era. New building projects at prominent sites like Mitrou, Kynos, and Lefkandi suggest that their strategic location along the Euboean Gulf and their connections to each other, as well as other regions, promoted prosperity (Lemos 2014, 171). Inland sites such as Kalapodi, Agnanti, Elateia, and cemeteries such as Rema Pharmaki, Spartia, Golemi, Sventza, and possibly Vagia all seem to have not only continued occupation in the Postpalatial era, but also flourished (KramerHajos 2008, 129). As we will see, this particular region’s importance continues into the Early Iron Age. At many of the reoccupied sites, construction of new dwellings signals the emergence of new social and cultural ideologies. The construction of

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multiple large buildings within a single settlement might signal the emergence of independent oikoi or households. It has been argued that the ruling class of these Postpalatial settlements was composed of individuals from these oikoi. Perhaps some of them had been connected to the previous Mycenaean political system, such as the survival of provincial seats of the Mycenaean qasi-re-we, as suggested for the site of Lefkandi (Lemos 2014, 178–179). Whoever these elites were exactly, it is clear they had the capability to recruit the manpower necessary for building walls (Naxos, Lefkandi), reorganizing the layout of settlements (Tiryns, Lefkandi, Aigeira), and maintaining contact with other sites and other peoples. After the palatial collapse, elite groups established or hung onto power gradually throughout the twelfth century and consolidated their rule in LH IIIC Middle. This vying for power directly in the aftermath of palatial collapse could be responsible for the destruction present at a number of sites at the end of LH IIIC Early (Xeropolis, Kynos and Aigeira; Lemos 2014, 179). Once established, it seems clear that elites at Postpalatial sites were responsible for social cohesion and cooperation. As discussed further on, one of the main ways in which this could be achieved was through communal events, such as feasting and ritual worship. Based on these observations about governance, demographics, and trade, it can be suggested that the Postpalatial era in Greece was characterized by an existential conflict between the memory of a palatial past and the reality of the present and future. At the same time that socially significant areas of the palace were reused, such as the megaron, new types of buildings were constructed on top of the old foundations. Burial rites carried on as before in reused and/or new chamber tombs in most regions, at the same time that new cremation practices were introduced. Types of objects such as seals made of precious stone, once regarded as the highest form of status marker, continued to impress as part of the cultural memory of the surviving elites. Such keimelia could make use of powerful symbols to establish links with the past, as demonstrated by the Tiryns hoard (Maran 2006, 2011). However, the persistence of these symbols could also suggest that social order was highly unstable, and in the long run these links with the past became detrimental to the legitimization of power (Lemos 2014, 180). The site with the most prominent connections to its Mycenaean past, Tiryns, lost its importance by the end of the Postpalatial era. Yet Tiryns was part of a broader trend felt at most of the reoccupied sites of the Argolid. By four or five generations after the end of palatial rule, the collective memory of the past seems to have given way to the realities of the present and new ways of managing social and economic affairs. Indeed, one could surmise that by the end of the LH IIIC period, “life was very different” (Lemos 2014, 180). At the same time, however, the continued use of oil and wine in relatively consistent exchange

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contexts signals a significant effort to continue social and economic traditions. PRODUCTION OF OIL AND WINE

There is no doubt that the collapse of the Mycenaean palaces resulted in significant changes to the political, social, and economic world of Greece. Entangled in all of these realms of human existence are agricultural practice and its products. Changes to how olive oil and wine were produced and how any surplus products were stored can reflect the broader socioeconomic changes occurring at Postpalatial settlements, including who had control of these commodities. While the Minoan era left behind pressing beds indicating where and at what relative scale oil and wine had been produced, the Mycenaean palatial era was less forthcoming. Indeed, as mentioned earlier, most of our evidence still comes from Crete and we are left without any evidence on the Greek mainland for pressing equipment despite the fact that we know without a doubt that a great amount of oil and wine was produced throughout the region. Unfortunately, we are faced with the same circumstances in the Postpalatial era of mainland Greece. There are no obvious remains of ceramic or stone pressing equipment datable to this period. The only possibility is an oval-shaped “shallow tub or watering trough,” measuring 0.75 m in width by 1.43 m in length, cut out of a limestone block with a hole in the west end “for emptying” found at Korakou in Corinthia (Blegen 1921, 84; Rutter 1974, 546; Thomatos 2006, 199). However, their complete absence might indicate that the evidence either does not survive due to its ephemeral material, or perhaps these activities were taking place out in the countryside, where little archaeological exploration has taken place. Another option for why there is absolutely no evidence for pressing equipment in the Mycenaean palatial or Postpalatial eras, is the possibility that the pressing strategies and associated equipment were different and, consequently, have not yet been identified. A decrease in scale of production might correspond with the use of nonspecialized equipment, such as a mortar and pestle or related technologies, as well as tools produced with perishable materials. Such is the case at the Neolithic sites off the Carmel coast in the Levant where the earliest evidence for olive oil production has been discovered (Hadjisavvas 2003, 117; Foxhall 2007, 13). As discussed in the Introduction section on pressing installations, there are a few ancient examples of Type II or rock-cut/built rectangular pressing basins or platforms. These installations were often chiseled out of bedrock in vineyards. There, grapes would be crushed, the must collected, and transferred to ceramic containers (e.g., Bronze Age bi-level basins at Agarak in Armenia and on Minoan Gavdos). Similar installations were used up to the early modern period (e.g., La Rioja,

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Spain; see Chapter 1). Remains of such rural presses would be very hard to discover in the archaeological record. Indeed, even if one were to stumble upon the bedrock cutting, it would not necessarily be immediately clear what it had been used for and even more difficult to prove it had been used for the treading of grapes. Despite the lack of obvious pressing installations for wine or olive oil, it is nevertheless certain that olives and grapes did indeed continue to be cultivated along with most if not all of the other types of agricultural produce planted in the palatial era. A growing body of archaeobotanical evidence indicates that after the palaces collapsed, towns, especially those not previously highly integrated with a palace economy, continued to produce the same individual components of the palatial-period agricultural system (Foxhall 1995; Schachl 2006 [Aigeira]; Livarda and Kotzamani 2006 [Xeropolis]; Pasternak 2006 [Tiryns]; Wallace 2010, 35–36). For example, archaeobotanical remains from Nichoria and Methana suggest that virtually the same subsistence crops continued to grow in the Early Iron Age, including olives and grapes. Indeed, many storage and occupation areas found in Postpalatial settlement contexts contain remains of either olives or grapes. For example, at Korakou, a large quantity of carbonized olive pits was found fallen between the central building’s earthen platform and column base (Blegen 1921, 86, n. 1). In general, and where information is available, it seems that Postpalatial socioeconomic management on both the Greek mainland and Crete supported a broad agricultural strategy that included the cultivation of different species of cereal, legumes, and fruit (Lemos 2014, 178). Olives and grapes continued to be staple products. Cultivation continuity for most of the same plants also seems to have involved a continuation in surplus production. This surplus, however, was no longer funneled into palatial storerooms. Instead, both large and smaller houses in most Postpalatial settlements have their own storage facilities (Lemos 2014, 177). As discussed further on, this surplus storage strategy might indicate that the entanglement in place from the previous era had altered to become more localized and perhaps independent or self-sufficient. While there is no question that olive oil and wine would have been produced after the collapse of the palaces, the scale of production and where it took place or who was involved are hard to pinpoint. Without identifiable pressing equipment, it is impossible to determine with certainty where production of olive oil and wine was taking place, and by association, who might have had control over this process. Therefore, it may be useful to examine, in brief, the production trends of other products commonly produced in the Bronze Age and generally regarded as essential to daily life.2 In her work on the Late Bronze Age and Early Iron Age Greek economy, Sarah Murray (2012 2017) examined in detail the evidence for production of textiles, pottery, and metals at excavated settlement sites. The data indeed indicate marked

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changes in the location and extent of production between the Palatial and Postpalatial eras. Specifically, there was a meaningful decrease in the scale of industrial production after the palatial collapse, with large complexes like those at Poros-Katsambas and Kommos falling out of use, replaced by localized small-scale work at individual sites (Murray 2012, 209). Ceramics, which had not been produced within major settlements in LM/LH IIIB, were made and fired on a village-by-village basis in the LM/LH IIIC period. Evidence for textile production is similarly distributed. In addition, after the collapse of the palaces, centralized control of the bronze industry likewise dissolved, which led to local communities having access to metal resources and their trade. The result was a sudden explosion in the use of bronze for personal adornment, along with new import distributions in the LM/LH IIIC period. These changes in scale and location of production indicate that after the palatial administration disappeared, economic scale and structure were altered significantly. While there is limited material indication of the production of many everyday goods within LB IIIB sites, LB IIIC sites, in contrast, show “remarkable and wide-ranging evidence of industrial activity” (Murray 2012, 207). Since these production trends apply to three of the most common and important products – pottery, textiles, and metals – perhaps oil and wine also shifted from centralized, large-scale production to localized, smaller-scale production.

Changes to Surplus Storage Practices The spatial patterns for storage of surplus agricultural products, including oil and wine, changed dramatically in the Postpalatial era. The Minoan Neopalatial and the Mycenaean palatial eras saw the centralized storage of much surplus goods, which were then mobilized for multiple modes of exchange, including large commensal events. In the Postpalatial era, however, storage of surplus goods shifted to the level of households, or at least wealthy households, including, but not limited to, the leaders of communities. In the previous palatial eras, most storage was located with the palaces or in adjacent buildings dedicated to surplus storage. In the Postpalatial era, surplus storage seems to have been placed not only within or around central buildings, but also within other large houses located in the same settlement. For example, at Tiryns, Building T on top of the old Mycenaean megaron was associated with a row of twelve pithoi, interpreted as holding supplies for feasts (Figure 4.1; Maran 2001, 118). In addition, many rooms in the Lower Citadel contained storage containers and unbaked clay bins including Room 224 (Kilian 1988, 111), Kammer 14 (Kilian 1982, 399), Room 127 (Kilian 1983, 280–281, 287), and Rooms 106/106a (Kilian 1978, 459; Kilian 1979, 383). Rooms 106/106a also contained equipment for consuming and storing wine

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4.1 Model of Tiryns during LH IIIC. View of the Upper Citadel with Building T from a southerly direction. Photo: ARW-Modellbau, Thomas Weber, re-mastered by Dipl.-Arch. M. Kostoula. Image courtesy of J. Maran and reproduced by permission of Archaeopress

and oil including a trefoil jug, a stirrup jar, four kraters, and many stirrup jar stoppers, one of which had a seal with a goat impressed nine times on it (Thomatos 2006, 193). At Mycenae, pithoi seem to have been found throughout the LH IIIC levels (Sherratt 1981, 78). Just like Tiryns, pithoi were also accompanied by bins made of unbaked clay. At the Granary, Wace mentions two pithoi and “the rest – and they were many – were vessels in shape like small tubs about 0.70 m high and 0.50 m in diameter, with thick walls of unbaked clay” (Wace 1921–23a, 48). In the remains of the pithoi and small tubs were carbonized grains such as vetches, barley and wheat (Wace 1921–23, 49). Other rooms of the LH IIIC period of the citadel contained similar storage features. House M, located on the northwest side of the Acropolis just inside the fortification wall, had a vestibule, central room, and rear chamber (Mylonas 1966b, 17, 27–31). An area to the south of this house acted as a road that led to storage rooms in north and east. North of House M and west of an upper courtyard were corridors leading to storage rooms to the west (Mylonas-Shear 1968, 235–248). Ceramic evidence suggests that the storage rooms, courtyards and corridors were all in use during LH IIIC (Mylonas 1968, 29, 31). Even the citadel at Pylos, which had been badly burned at the end of LH IIIB contained LH IIIC occupation, including

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a large storage area above Room 38 with at least thirty pithoi and other large jars (Lafayette Hogue 2016, 153). Sites that had no palatial past also show evidence for increased storage capacity within or near large houses in the LH IIIC period. At Korakou, Building P, which has evidence for feasting, also produced a large quantity of carbonized olive pits (Blegen 1921, 86, n. 1) and has storage facilities. These features suggest that whoever lived there controlled not only resources, but also, perhaps, ritual activities (Fox 2012, 65). The substantial buildings found on the acropolis at Aigeira also have evidence for multiple large storage rooms, some of which contained bins full of barley, beans, and vetches, and also kilns, indicating that the settlement had adequate resources and subsistence organization. During Phase Ib of the LH IIIC site, the household areas included a pottery kiln and storage room with two batteries of clay bins set on the floor and filled with carbonized fruit. One amphora was found lying on a clay platform. Bins were half filled with barley, beans, vetches, and figs. The kiln and storage room lined a courtyard in which was a large clay bin filled with ashes (Alram-Stern 2003, 19). The large Postpalatial site of Kynos, located on the coast of Lokris, has also produced evidence for large storage areas, as well as industrial activities. Most buildings contained storage areas and the discovery of kilns provides evidence that workshops were also housed in the buildings (Kramer-Hajos 2008, 39). In one house, an LH IIIC clay floor contained many pithoi in situ used as a storage facility (AD 40, pl. 59). Other pithoi with seeds and round, clay storage bins in earlier floor levels suggest the area was used as storage quarters in at least three consecutive phases, indicating that agricultural produce from the plain of Atalanti was stored centrally at Kynos (Kramer-Hajos 2008, 39). As mentioned earlier, Lefkandi too had a decentralized storage strategy, with most houses having excellent storage capacities (Lemos 2014, 171). Phase 1 has at least nine circular bins of unbaked clay and other clay receptacles and large storage pithoi. Among the finds of this phase were carbonized figs, olives, and remains of spelt mixed with barley (Popham and Sackett 1968, 11–13). Phase 2 had more unbaked clay bins. Storage areas were incorporated in house complexes alongside other functions – usually pertaining to food preparation. In all these cases, the desire to continue producing labor-intensive surplus commodities may have been triggered by competition in the form of conspicuous consumption and control over resources, an aspect of social life that had clearly continued from the Palatial period.

The Possible Effects of Climate Change As outlined in Chapter 1, broad paleoenvironmental changes occurred over the course of the Bronze and Iron Ages. In what way, if any, did these climate

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fluctuations affect the production of oil and wine during the Postpalatial era within the larger network of dependencies between people and agricultural production more generally? Large-scale climate change and severe weather conditions, such as drought or excessive rain, are no longer considered major factors in the demise of the Mycenaean palaces (Middleton 2010). While micro-climate variation cannot be ruled out (such as, perhaps, in Messinia), the once popular belief that long-term (over 200 years) drought affected the entire eastern Mediterranean during and after the palatial collapse does not hold true. Instead, recent archaeological exploration has provided sufficient information about the Postpalatial revival on the Greek mainland to suggest continued occupation of the land and perhaps even increased fertility. The abandonment of large-scale water management features like those seen in Minoan and Mycenaean palatial eras might suggest that they were no longer necessary. Many of the large-scale built features of the palatial eras were intended to defend against floods or increase arable land. At Tiryns, a dam and river diversion prevented flooding (Deger-Jalkotzy 1998, 120; Maran 2006, 126) and around Gla major hydrological work drained the Kopais basin to increase agricultural land (Loader 1998, 101–109). Based on multiple paleoclimate proxies (e.g., oxygen-isotope speleothems, stable carbon isotopes, sea-surface temperatures, and changes to foraminifera), it has recently been argued that the end of the Late Bronze Age gradually ushered in an era of cooler temperatures and aridity, replacing the severe bi-modal seasons which brought large-scale seasonal flooding in the Minoan and Mycenaean palatial eras (Drake 2012; Brooke 2014, 299).3 Overabundance of water and flooding can be even more detrimental to crop growth than lack of water, at least in the short term. If around 1200 BCE the climate slowly shifted toward increasing aridity, then the water management features intended to contain, drain, or divert, would no longer have been needed and the crops may have, at first, benefited from reduced rainfall (Drake 2012, 1866; Weiberg and Finné 2018, 589). In support of the obsolescence of such features is the apparent increase in quality of vegetation and crops during the Postpalatial era. Grain from the LH IIIC Argolid was even larger and better quality than during the previous palatial era (Deger-Jalkotzy 1998, 122). It has been suggested that the palatial collapse opened up vast amounts of land to regeneration and renewal, making crop production much less strenuous. In addition, plentiful land and perhaps a decrease or dispersal of population (at the same time that some nucleation occurred in other areas) did not require the large-scale water management features once necessary for intensive subsistence in a relatively densely populated land. Indeed, one of the main factors in a community’s resilience is the ability to move during climate changes (Nelson et al. 2016, table 1.1). The end of the Postpalatial era, however, might have been detrimentally affected by the

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same climate change toward aridity, as it increased in severity (Drake 2012, 1868; Weiberg and Finné 2018, 589). Evidence for site abandonment and widespread population shift is more apparent at the start of the Early Iron Age, when the palatial sites in the Argolid, which had been reoccupied and even expanded in the Postpalatial era (Tiryns, Midea, Mycenae, Asine), became mostly depopulated. Instead, there appears to be a shift in population density toward the north where natural water resources were more plentiful (see Chapter 5). The strategies around the cultivation of grapevines and olive trees would have likely been affected by both long-term climate change toward aridity and short-term climate variation. Environmental components, however, were certainly secondary to the sociopolitical factors around the shifts visible in the relationship between people, oil, and wine. MODES OF EXCHANGE: COMMENSAL, GIFT, AND COMMERCIAL

Despite changes to political and social structures after the collapse of the Mycenaean palaces, prominent exchange modes requiring surplus oil and wine remained constant. Feasting, non-commensal gift-giving in the context of ritual and funerary offerings, and commercial exchange can be documented for the Postpalatial era. All, however, underwent significant changes in structure and scale, affecting the ways in which oil and wine were valued. At the same time, some features carried over from the Palatial era attest to the lingering values still present and acted upon in the Postpalatial era. Therefore, the following sections trace the changes and consistencies in exchange modes of the Postpalatial era and examine how these changes affected the place of oil and wine within the society and how oil and wine continued to play a role in the formation of Greek cultural identity. COMMENSAL EXCHANGE: FROM REGIONAL TO LOCAL

As Wright (2004, 129) noted in his study of Mycenaean feasting, “the evolving and changing form of feasting appears to be a sensitive gauge of changes in sociopolitical structure, and a useful way to think about continuity through periods of transformation, such as the Postpalatial transition to the Iron Age.”4 Indeed, feasting remained one of the dominant exchange modes of the Postpalatial era but underwent meaningful changes in location, practice, and scale. As will be discussed, many of the changes to feasting practices seem to reflect the desire of elites to reference past palatial activities while adopting new practices in order to gain support, power, and supremacy. At the heart of feasting practices remained the necessity for surplus oil and, especially, wine. Changes in the use of surplus oil and wine within feasting contexts are manifested through changes in types of drinking equipment,

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location of feasts, and the characterization of feasts. The following discussion will not provide in-depth and detailed discussions of every known feasting context.5 Instead, focus is placed on patterns evident in the archaeological record that might indicate changing trends in physical locations of commensal events and types of drinking equipment that represent specific practices.

Changes to Feasting Contexts The tension between Palatial past and Postpalatial present in the context of feasting can easily be seen in the locations chosen for commensal events. Three categories can be perceived: (1) buildings used for feasting placed directly on top or next to previous Mycenaean megara but with new features (central column row, no hearth), (2) new buildings built for feasting that kept Mycenaean features (e.g., hearth and altar), and (3) new feasting locations with new features. People who continued to live in palatial sites often built large buildings overtop the ruins of the previous palatial megara. These large buildings frequently contain evidence for feasting events. More specifically, there seems to be a desire to maintain continuity in feasting location, but rearrange the building’s architectural features, abandoning some key elements of palatial past and adopting new ones. The settlements of Tiryns, Midea, Mycenae, Mitrou, and Pylos all have evidence for a Postpalatial building on top of or near the palatial megaron used for commensal events. At Tiryns, the “Antenbau” or Building T on the Upper Citadel occupied the eastern part of the Mycenaean megaron and was built to incorporate the palatial throne but abandon the central hearth, replacing it with a central row of columns (Figure 4.1; Kilian 1981, 53–54; Maran 2000, 14–15; 2001, 115). It has been suggested, however, that Building T was not the residence of a leader, but instead served as the meeting hall for elite members of the community where feasts would take place (Maran 2000, 2001, 2011). The nearby settlement of Midea has similar evidence, with the LH IIIB megaron on Terrace 10 reused during the LH IIIC period. Similar to Tiryns, alterations were performed including the removal of the central hearth and installation of a central row of columns (Walberg 1995, 87; 2007, 66–67). In addition, one room at the back of the megaron, Room XI, was used for food preparation as it had been in the palatial era. Remains of feasting events include pottery, animal bones, and a ladle found in the center of the megaron with residues of oil and meat (Tzedakis and Martlew 1999, 127; Walberg and Reese 2008, 242). The evidence from Mycenae is less prominent, but there does appear to have been an LH IIIC building placed perhaps directly in front of the former megaron (French 2002, 136). Elaborate drinking and eating wares found nearby might suggest that feasting once had taken place in that building. Specifically,

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a large deposit of very high-quality pottery was found washed down to the citadel wall from some building higher up (French 2002, 136; Thomatos 2006, 142). Although it is not clear from which structure the fine pottery originated, feasting seems to have remained in practice around the area.6 The reuse of Mycenaean megara does not seem to be confined to the Argolid. At Mitrou, on what is now an island off the coast of Lokris (though had been attached to the mainland in the Bronze Age), a substantial LH IIIC building (Building B) was constructed on top of the ruins of the Mycenaean central building (Building D). As at Tiryns and Midea, this Postpalatial building contained a central row of columns in place of a large hearth (Van de Moortel and Zahou 2005, 41–44). In addition, a room (Building C) adjacent to the northwestern wall of Building B held a large deposit of intact pottery that included a wheel-thrown cooking pot containing bones of a piglet. This equipment suggests the presence of feasting activities in the adjacent central building. The replacement of a central hearth by a row of columns at Tiryns, Midea, and Mitrou might suggest that focus shifted from the large communal megaron hearth to, perhaps, individual household hearths.7 In addition, the outside courtyard was no longer used, so there does not seem to have been an inside/outside separation as argued for the large-scale palatial feasts of the LH IIIB period. It is impossible to know for sure what these changes imply or whether they imply the same things at each site. These architectural trends, however, do point to significant alterations in the fundamental attributes of palatial buildings, which must, in some way, correspond to changes in the practices performed in these spaces, that is, commensal events. Finally, evidence reexamined from Postpalatial levels at the palace of Nestor at Pylos suggests that feasting and storage of surplus might have continued in this location after the destruction of the palace by fire (Lafayette Hogue 2016, 153–155). Specifically, a block of rooms was reoccupied (38, 40, Porch 41 and Court 42) and a dump of at least 348 broken and discarded kylikes, pithoi, large jars, and tripods was found in Court 42. In addition, Room 38 contained more than thirty pithoi and other large jars. It is unclear, however, just how frequently these events would have taken place, and whether there had been a settlement in the area, or if these remains were more singular. Feasting contexts in the Postpalatial era also included new buildings with old features, essentially the opposite phenomenon as presented earlier. The best example comes from Korakou in Corinthia. This non-palatial site was a flourishing settlement in LH IIIB that continued without serious interruption into the LH IIIC period. At that point, a large house (P) was built and seems to have been the largest and most elaborate building in the settlement. The excavation director, Carl Blegen (1921, 89), thought of it as “undoubtedly the home of a very substantial citizen.” The central room of the building contained a large central hearth with a column base to the north, an earthen

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platform interpreted as a possible altar, and a low L-shaped bench (Fox 2012, 64). In addition, the eastern room bears clear evidence for cooking and many kylix drinking cups were found. In all, the pottery from House P reveals a clear bias toward ceramic shapes connected with drinking rituals, in quantities greater than one family’s requirements. Ritualization of drinking activities might thus be implied (Fox 2012, 65). Finally, the Postpalatial era presents evidence for entirely new locations where feasting took place, outside the confines of the palatial past. Nonpalatial sites, like Aigeira and Lefkandi, were occupied in the LH IIIC period and saw substantial building in the first part of the period. A large building on the top of the acropolis at Aigeira, although badly damaged, had much evidence for feasting, including many pots used for serving and mixing wine (Figure 4.2; Alram-Stern 2003, 2007; Deger-Jalkotzy 2003; Gauss 2009). Lefkandi was also significantly built up in the Postpalatial era and the settlement at Xeropolis became increasingly wealthy. It too had a large building, dubbed the “Megaron” by its excavators, where there is much evidence for food storage, preparation, and consumption from the LH IIIC Middle period into the Early Iron Age (Lemos 2014, 171). Interestingly, Xeropolis also presents evidence for smaller-scale feasting at individual elite homes. Homes dating to Phases 1 and 2 had specific rooms for food preparation and storage, separated from the dining areas. In the West House during Phase 1, the basement (room 11) served as a “kitchen” and food storage area. Finds from the room above it included cups, deep bowls, and scoops and suggest food was consumed there (Evely 2006, 13, 16). The amount of ceramics found there indicates that it was for average family use: five deep bowls, three cups and three kylikes (Evely 2006, 22). Although this type of consumption differs from large-scale feasting, it

4.2 Krater found in the ash layer above Phase II floor at Aigeira, Achaia. After Deger-Jalkotzy 2003, 71. Image by author

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nevertheless appears that wealthy families maintained some amount of surplus wine, at least, to consume on certain occasions, as indicated by their supply of kylikes. During Phase 2 of Xeropolis, commensality increased beyond family meals and there is evidence for large-scale feasting from Yard 8/9 between the North and South Houses. Here, a large collection of drinking equipment (kylikes, deep bowls, and kraters) was disposed (Evely 2006, 48). These feasting activities continued into Phase 3 of the site as debris accumulated. It is assumed that the actual dining took place within the buildings around this yard, where drinking equipment (kylikes, kraters) and liquid storage containers (amphoras, hydrias) have been found (Evely 2006, 51). A similar situation was present at Tiryns, despite the fact that Building T existed for communal feasting on the Upper Citadel. Large buildings located in the Lower Citadel and Lower Town of the site provide evidence for largerscale commensal activities. For example, Megaron W in the Lower Town was even larger than Building T and also had an axial line of three columns down the center (Thomatos 2006, 195). In addition, a room in the northeastern Lower Town, Raum (Room) 8/00, was apparently destroyed toward the end of the Postpalatial era during the middle of a feast (Stockhammer 2008). Tables with drinking sets, spits for grilling meat, and large liquid storage containers were found standing in-situ. One of the storage containers was a large Cretan transport stirrup jar saved from the previous LH IIIB period. Instead of being placed in a basement, as before, this particular container was displayed in the entryway to the room. We might therefore assume that its contents, presumably olive oil, were, at this point, a prized possession. One last context with evidence for large-scale feasting is rural ritual locations. That is, sanctuaries intended for regional participation. The temple at Kalapodi presents just such a case. Evidence for human activities there dates back to the Early Bronze Age, but the site gained in significance during the LH IIIC period. Thought to be the sanctuary of the oracle of Apollo at Abai, at least in later Greek history, the LH IIIC sanctuary was primarily open-air in nature. Animal remains and the discovery of mainly bowls, cups, and cooking pots suggest emphasis on communal dining. Such practices imply both a celebrated location and occasion (Morgan 1996; Livieratou 2011). Feasting practices here continued throughout the period and into the Early Iron Age. In the cases presented earlier, the role of feasting as a local activity becomes relatively clear. Oil and wine would have functioned within these contexts as commodities for exchange between individuals who presumably know each other and live close to one another. We might assume, therefore, that surplus oil and wine would have decreased in quantity as it was now only needed to supply local feasting occasions, not large-scale regional feasting such as those taking place in the Minoan and Mycenaean palatial eras. At the same time, oil and wine seem to have maintained or even increased their value within

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commensal contexts as large-scale production was no longer active and elites relied only on local supplies to sustain their activities, which were no less important for maintaining social authority and cohesion.

Changes to Feasting Equipment Perhaps one of the best markers for a change in feasting practices in the Postpalatial era is a change in the equipment used for drinking. As in the Neopalatial and Mycenaean palatial eras, shifts in the type and decoration of feasting equipment can signal a shift in the participants, their relative asymmetries, and even the broad goal of the commensal acts themselves, such as community cohesion or, alternatively, exclusion. In the Postpalatial era, the most significant change is a move away from the kylix drinking cup and pouring equipment, such as jugs, to cups and bowls and especially the krater, a large open container used for mixing wine with water and other additives (Table 4.1). These changes in equipment seem to denote a move from practices centered on pouring and toasting to practices centered on mixing and small-scale communal drinking of the symposion variety. Indeed, as we will see, the krater would continue to be the central feature of drinking parties and feasts throughout the Early Iron Age and into the Archaic and even Classical periods. We can also see the loss of mass-produced, plain drinking ware in favor of a restricted amount of slightly more elaborate, though by no means flashy, drinking wares. In the Postpalatial era, we therefore witness the gradual abandonment of once prominent palatial practices and values. In their place, the political and social realms of the new world were gradually developing their own ways of expressing themselves through feasting practices, practices which became the hallmark of later Greek culture.

table 4.1 Number and percentage of the whole ceramic assemblage of kylikes and deep bowls/skyphoi from the LH IIIB to LH IIIC periods

Pylos Midea Isthmia Korakou Xeropolis Perati Nichoria

LH IIIB # Kylix

LH IIIB % Kylix

c.7,106 16 25 6

63.89% 2.46% 33.78% 50%

From Fox 2012, tables V.1, V.4, V.7, V.8

LH IIIC Kylix #

LH IIIC Kylix %

LH IIIC # Bowls

LH IIIC % Bowls

4 1 17 c.100 4 45

4.65% 9.09% 27.87% 4.53% 0.33%

31 5 14

36.05% 45.45% 22.95%

78 skyphoi 1159

6.37%

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The krater was not a newly developed shape in the Postpalatial era. In fact, it had been produced in Mycenaean Greece for quite some time during the palatial era. However, it was never favored among the Mycenaeans themselves. Instead, decorated kraters were produced in the Argolid and shipped east to Cyprus, eventually making their way to the Levant where they are often found in mortuary contexts. For whatever reason, however, the krater, and its emphasis on mixing, gradually became the object of choice for feasting in the Mycenaean homeland after the collapse of the palaces. Although merely speculation, perhaps the palatial authorities had a hand in the production and shipment of these shapes abroad and their restricted use on the mainland. Once this regulation no longer existed, but the ability to produce them and their associated export value remained, people decided to adopt the krater for themselves. Kraters for mixing wine are present at all of the feasting contexts discussed earlier, from those recalling palatial pasts to those establishing entirely new settings. Indeed, within many of these contexts an abundance of kraters has been found, often decorated. A list of all kraters found in Postpalatial contexts is out of the scope of this chapter (for LH IIIC Middle see Thomatos 2006). Instead, examples are provided that illustrate the variety of feasting contexts within which kraters have been found and any patterns of deposition are examined. At Midea, the excavators have noted that an “exceptional amount” of kraters were found in the megaron area, which has been interpreted as a storage place for these vessels (Walberg 2007, 140–44). In this context, the presence of kraters has been interpreted as a sign of elite power, associated with those dwelling in the megaron (Fox 2012, 61–62). Indeed, kraters are found in other contexts referencing the palatial past in both the Argolid and central Greece, such as Tiryns, Mycenae, Mitrou (Kramer-Hajos 2008, 45) and Kynos. At Kynos especially, the krater is considered the “most indisputable shape of the LH IIIC middle pottery” (Dakoronia 2007, 119). It is also clear, however, that kraters are present in contexts that do not reference any palatial past and are not the largest or most prominent buildings in a settlement. The feasting contexts of Xeropolis at Lefkandi, as discussed earlier, all produced kraters, especially in Phase 3 of the settlement when they not only increase in quantity, but also in decoration. This shift perhaps indicates an increasing emphasis on drinking and mixing rituals over the course of the Postpalatial era, as rituals and associated equipment of the previous era were gradually replaced. At Aigeira, a non-palatial site, kraters are also found in abundance and increase in quantity during the second and third phases of the LH IIIC period. Indeed, the largest building on the acropolis during the middle of the period, the “House of the Krater with Fringed Decoration,” produced many fragments of large and elaborately decorated kraters and is named after a large, elaborately decorated krater found smashed in the center of the room

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(Deger-Jalkotzy 2003, 68). It appears, therefore, that kraters were indeed associated with elites and feasting activities, but perhaps represent an entirely new way of displaying and negotiating status in an era of renegotiation in most aspects of life. In addition to the adoption of kraters and associated mixing rituals, the Postpalatial people gradually abandoned the kylix drinking cup, once so incredibly abundant in the palatial past. Indeed, we might interpret the kylix as a symbol of the palatial authorities that was best shunned during a time of renegotiating hierarchies. In this way, one could disassociate oneself with an oppressive, or at least meddlesome, palatial authority. We see this trend in kylix use at both palatial and non-palatial sites. At Midea, the deep bowl easily replaced the kylix. The deep bowl and related shapes seem to be associated with krater usage. At Midea, the LH IIIC ceramic material was dominated by kraters, deep bowls, and shallow angular bowls (24.4, 13.9, and 9.3 percent, respectively; Walberg 2007, 140, fig. III-2). At Kynos, the dominant shape is the deep bowl, here always two-handled, with the monochrome version most popular (Dakoronia 2007, 122). The other prevailing shape found in large numbers at Kynos is the semiglobular cup, which remains almost unchanged throughout the whole LH IIIC period and was produced until as late as the Sub-mycenaean period. As at most other sites, kylikes do not appear in great numbers at Kynos (Dakoronia 2007, 122). One contrasting example, however, is House P at Korakou. Just as the builders of this house included references to palatial architectural features, such as a central hearth and altar, the occupants and participants maintained the use of kylikes and pouring vessels. The three most popular forms found in the structure are the kylix, deep bowl, and cup. For the larger vessels, those intended for pouring are popular and include the hydria, oinochoe, and jug. Included among the containers were three stirrup jars, probably indicating the presence of oil consumption at the commensal events that took place there (Fox 2012, 65). At this location, therefore, feasting rituals purposely referenced the palatial past, despite the more prevalent trend on the Greek mainland to adopt vessels associated with mixing rituals. Finally, the general trends in decoration of feasting equipment tend toward relatively plain smaller vessels, such as cups and bowls, with the emphasis placed instead on decoration of larger vessels central to the activities, namely, kraters. Drinking cups are no longer mass produced as they were in the palatial eras. Instead, smaller-scale collections of drinking cups are found within feasting contexts or in debris associated with large houses. These drinking cups, however, remain relatively plain in decoration, often monochrome, or with simple designs. It is clear, however, that decoration of kraters was an important aspect of commensal ritual. This feature began in the palatial era when kraters were decorated with scenes of elite ideology, such as chariots, and otherworldly

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creatures, such as griffins. In the Postpalatial era, however, the decoration of kraters shifts slightly to emphasize war, conflict, and hunting with some regional specialization. According to Fox (2012, 76), of the total number of pictorial vessels showing elite scenes, chariot scenes make up 3.3 percent during the LH IIIB period, 16.2 percent during the LH IIIB/C period, and 26.3 percent during the LH IIIC period. Scenes of foot soldiers or battle scenes are almost nonexistent in the LH IIIB period, and make up 11.1 percent in the LH IIIB/C period and 11.8 percent in the LH IIIC period. Hunting scenes are perhaps the most novel invention of the Postpalatial era as they make up 7.9 percent of pictorial scenes during this time, but were virtually nonexistent in the previous palatial era. At Kynos, one ceramic workshop seems to have specialized in the production of pictorial pottery, the majority of which were kraters. There, emphasis was placed on warriors and ships, a relatively uncommon iconographic scene during the palatial era (Dakoronia 1996, 2003, 2006). This should perhaps not be surprising since Kynos was a wealthy coastal settlement that seems to have been intimately connected to other coastal sites. Indeed, it has been speculated that the wealth evident at Kynos was a result of piratical or aggressive behavior toward other regions. If this is the case, then the iconography displayed on kraters, the central features of feasting events, would have reflected the values and sources of power for the elites residing there. Indeed, this connection between kraters and elite ideology has been recognized at other sites (DegerJalkotzy 2003, 68; Fox 2012, 66) and seems to be the general trend evident for the time period, one that would continue into the Early Iron Age.

The Scale and Character of Feasts in the Postpalatial Era The trends in context, storage, and equipment just discussed reveal overall changes to the nature of feasting in the Postpalatial era. First, it is clear that there was a significant decrease in the scale of commensal events. Feasting was no longer a large-scale, highly organized event where multiple tiers of society were constructed and reinforced through diacritical practices. Instead, feasting became a venue for demonstrating a leader’s status and domination over others while maintaining community integrity through a two-tier division of social status (Fox 2012, 60). While it is clear that most contexts in which feasting activities can be identified contained remains equivalent to supra-household usage, the numbers of drinking cups do not remotely come close to the hundreds of kylikes found in palatial contexts like those at Pylos, Mycenae, and Tiryns. Although events were smaller in scale, the ability to control surplus and mobilize it in specific ways for ultimately political ends was nevertheless still in place. Certainly, one of the most important and necessary surplus commodities was wine, with oil no doubt being another valued item. As in the palatial eras

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before, without wine the feast could not take place. Indeed, the central feature of the feast, the krater, was intended for mixing wine with water and other ingredients and displayed the most prominent ideological symbols. The ability to provide feasting occasions seems to have remained one of the most prominent means of legitimizing someone’s higher status amongst the many. In other words, commensal events offering wine and food in regulated ways still worked. That superiority and legitimization seems to have had a prominent role in feasting events of the time is evidenced by the decoration on kraters, promoting warfare, hunting, and perhaps sea-raiding. Emphasis on military prowess can also be seen in the funerary trends of the period, with an increase in burials often called “warrior tombs” and the inclusion of weapons in burials. GIFT EXCHANGE: FUNERARY AND RITUAL OFFERINGS

Non-commensal gift-giving continued to be an important mode of exchange during the Postpalatial era. The difficulty in detecting non-commensal gift exchange in the archaeological record is perhaps mitigated by focusing on ritual offerings to the gods and grave goods to the dead. The Minoan and Mycenaean palatial eras presented much evidence for this type of exchange by way of not only physical remains, but also written documents listing the types and quantities of offerings. During those periods, as discussed in Chapters 2 and 3, large quantities of olive oil and wine were common gifts to the gods and to the dead. Evidence for this exchange mode in the Postpalatial era, however, is much harder to detect. Written documents had gone out of use and the total data available for ritual contexts is meager. Thankfully, we do have a relative abundance of cemeteries and, consequently, we are able to see patterns in the types and quantities of grave goods. Where feasting evidence is more oriented toward trends in surplus wine exchange, funerary gift-giving presents us with more evidence for the exchange of surplus oil, especially treated oil like perfume or unguents. Wine, however, still seems to have played a part, though it may have been certain types of scented or flavored wines. The skills and knowledge needed to produce perfume and flavored wines was apparently not lost during the palatial collapse. This retention is a testament to not only the importance of these commodities but also perhaps their wider availability, such that when the palace administration disintegrated, the technology was preserved elsewhere, unlike, for example, writing. That these commodities were more widely accessible in the Postpalatial era is suggested by the relative ubiquity of perfumed oil and wine containers within tombs, as discussed in subsequent sections. When examining the archaeological record of cemeteries, one must take care to distinguish between objects that were left within the tomb as offerings

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and objects that are the remains of ritual activities performed by the living. More specifically, grave goods should be contrasted with the remains of funerary feasts. While the funerary feast certainly would have been a site of surplus oil and wine use, it does not fall into a category of explicit exchange per se since one would assume the participants would be a collective family group, not hosting other groups, which would indeed involve exchanging surplus commodities. In contrast, vessels containing surplus oil and wine acting as grave goods could be considered as a form of gift exchange in the sense that the living family members are giving surplus goods to the deceased as a gift for the afterlife, not expecting anything in return, at least directly. In any event, funerary feasts are surprisingly scarce in the Postpalatial era, as no evidence for such events has been found at the most prominent and well-studied cemeteries, such as Perati and the Kerameikos in Athens (Fox 2012, 80). Instead, drinking vessels and containers for liquids were placed inside the tomb, apparently as grave offerings in addition to the oil and unguent containers. Indeed, at Perati, containers for liquids formed 19.1 percent of the pottery assemblage and drinking vessels 15.3 percent (Iakovides 1980, 25). These form the second and third largest functional groups respectively, after perfume containers. Only toward the end of the Postpalatial era and into the Protogeometric period do we find increasing evidence for the reinstating of funerary feasts. Specifically, at the cemetery of Elateia, pottery found in dromos fills predominantly belonged to open shapes like kraters, kylikes, cups, and bowls. These deposits date from the LH IIIC Middle period into the Middle Protogeometric period, so they tend to be later, when the practice of funerary feasting once again became popular (Deger-Jalkotzy 2007). While funerary evidence from the Postpalatial era is relatively abundant compared to settlement and ritual data, the number of complete or even partially excavated cemeteries is few. Most of the data available come from single burials that happen to have been excavated due to human intervention or rescue operations. These haphazard burials, while important in their own right, are not as useful when trying to determine long-term patterns in value and use over larger population groups. It is therefore necessary to rely on a small number of cemeteries that have been more completely excavated and published. These include Perati in Attica, the Kerameikos in Athens, and Elateia in Phokis. Although the data are biased in favor of east-central Greece, they present evidence against which it is possible to compare a smaller amount of data from other regions of Greece. In addition, these more completely excavated cemeteries do cover the entire Postpalatial era, with Perati leaning more toward the beginning of the era and Elateia toward the middle and end.8 This distribution allows us to more clearly see changing patterns in choices of grave offerings over time, as well as regional differences. Finally, despite the small data set, it does appear that the overall patterns evident at Perati and Elateia do

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(a)

(b)

4.3 (a) Small fine stirrup jar from Perati cemetery. After Mountjoy 1999, Fig. 219.439. (b) Small fine amphoriskos from Perati cemetery. After Mountjoy 1999, Fig. 215.403. Image by Chelsey Gareau

generally match with the evidence from other, less completely studied, sites (Thomatos 2006, 167). In the Postpalatial era, the most predominant shapes placed in tombs as grave offerings were small, decorated stirrup jars and amphoriskoi (Figure 4.3).

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Based on earlier and later analogies, as well as scientific evidence, it is generally accepted that small stirrup jars and amphoriskoi were used for perfumed oil and unguents, respectively. Chemical residue analyses performed on six small stirrup jars dating to the Mycenaean palatial era resulted in evidence that these containers were used for both oil and wine (French 2011a, 70). It is generally argued, however, that the oil and wine contained within these small vessels would have been treated in some way, most plausibly as perfumed or spiced. Perfumed oil workshops of the LH IIIB period are all associated with many small stirrup jars (Shelmerdine 1985, Thomas 1992). As discussed in Chapter 3, texts written in Linear B closely document the production of perfumed oil as a valued commodity and the palaces did appear to produce a surplus. Based on the textual evidence available, we know that surplus perfumed oil was often given to the gods and even designated for guest gifts (xenwios) along with cloth. Although the majority of evidence comes from the previous palatial era, the continuity in shape and elaborate decoration of small stirrup jars and amphoriskoi would allow a certain amount of confidence in assuming they contained the same types of liquids in the Postpalatial era. Examples of small stirrup jars dating to the LH IIIC Middle period are most commonly decorated in a linear scheme accompanied with zonal motifs. The shoulder zone is always decorated, many times with the spout area treated differently. Exceptions to this type of decoration are a considerable number of vessels executed in the Close, Octopus, and Pictorial styles. By the late phase, monochrome areas become more common as do reserved lower bodies with a band at the base (Thomatos 2006, 22).9 For LH IIIC Middle amphoriskoi, the two-handled type is most common and, in general, they are sparsely decorated in terms of zonal motifs (Thomatos 2006, 46). Both small stirrup jars and amphoriskoi are by far more frequently found in cemetery rather than settlement contexts (Thomatos 2006, 261, chart 1.1).10 In general, and especially toward the beginning of the era, small stirrup jars outnumber amphoriskoi. Over time, the small stirrup jar increased in frequency after the collapse of the palaces, maintained high levels in the early part of the LH IIIC period, then steadily diminished in numbers toward the end of the period when amphoriskoi seem to become more popular. By the Protogeometric period, small stirrup jars mostly went out of use. During the Postpalatial era, by far the majority of small stirrup jars found in funerary contexts are locally made. There are, however, often a couple examples within a cemetery that can be identified as imported from other regions of Greece. Significantly, the local production of small stirrup jars might also suggest a local production of the liquid contents. At Perati, small stirrup jars are present in almost every tomb and when present are almost always more numerous than other shapes (Thomatos 2006, 282–91, table 2.1.1). The ratio between amphoriskoi and stirrup jars was about

G I FT E XCH AN GE: F UN ER AR Y A ND R I TUAL O FFER I NGS

1:2 (Iakovidis 1970, 153, 198; Deger-Jalkotzy 2007, 135). Indeed, most of the relative chronology of the site is based on the changing attributes of small stirrup jars (Iakovidis 1980). The tombs at the cemetery of Elateia have produced more than 470 burial vases, which cover a span of time from LH IIIC Middle through Early and Middle Protogeometric. Here, as at Perati, closed shapes predominate and the most frequent shapes were amphoriskoi (28.6 percent), small jug (22.5 percent), and stirrup jar (17 percent). Indeed, open shapes are “exceedingly rare” within the tombs themselves, although they do appear outside the tomb as debris from, presumably, feasting activities (Deger-Jalkotzy 2007, 134). During the LH IIIC Middle period, amphoriskoi and stirrup jars are in equal frequency at Elateia, which compares well with Ialysos on Rhodes (Mee 1982, 30–38) and the cemeteries in Kephallonia (Souyouzoglou-Haywood 1999, 64–67). This trend is in contrast with the cemeteries at Medeon in Phokis, Achaia (Papadopoulos 1977/1978), and of Skyros (Parlama 1984, 368–371), where amphoriskoi were by far outnumbered by stirrup jars and other shapes. It is therefore possible that the remarkable frequency of amphoriskoi may be defined as a characteristic feature of LH IIIC Middle at Elateia, perhaps representing a local preference. Despite changing frequencies, in all cemeteries large and small, it is clear that the two most common shapes deposited as grave offerings were the small stirrup jar and amphoriskos, followed by jugs, which would have also carried liquid commodities. Based on these data, we may say with some confidence that small amounts of surplus oil, and perhaps also wine, contained in small stirrup jars and amphoriskoi were commonly given as gifts to the dead in the Postpalatial era. Although the total number of liquid offerings was not large, especially compared to the evidence presented by the palatial Linear B archives, it is nevertheless significant that people continued to produce costly and specialized aromatic oils and treated wines to give away as gifts. In this sense, the nature of these commodities as surplus is particularly apparent: they are not consumed at any time. Instead, they are taken out of use and placed with the dead. That small stirrup jars and amphoriskoi are practically confined to tomb contexts might indicate that they were produced and intended only for the funerary realm. However, evidence from Perati, at least, suggests that most if not all of the vessels placed within the tombs were slightly used (Thomatos 2006, 168). This use-wear might indicate that small stirrup jars and amphoriskoi were precious vessels containing valued liquids during a person’s lifetime and, when that person died, were deposited along with the dead as a type of sacrifice. In other words, the vessel and its contents were so valued that they were taken to the grave. On the other hand, the two cemeteries that provide the most evidence, Perati and Elateia, both appear to be particularly wealthy. The number of imports and metal objects found in many of the tombs suggest that each

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cemetery represents a prosperous community. With this in mind, the idea that surplus oil and wine contained in small decorated vessels was highly valued still holds true, but on a more communal, rather than personal, level. That is, as wealthy communities, they had the means and knowledge to produce surplus supplies of perfumed oil and wine, whereas it is possible that smaller, less connected communities would not have had access to such goods and exchange opportunities. Finally, the high value of these objects and their contents is also made evident by the elaborate decoration often adorning the vessels. Styles known as Close and Pictorial took much effort and were generally reserved for high-status markers such as kraters. The fact that small stirrup jars were also elaborately decorated with elite symbols suggests that they too acted as status markers within a shared community of value-creation. COMMERCIAL EXCHANGE: SIMPLIFICATION AND LOCAL RESOURCEFULNESS

Over the last few decades, one of the biggest debates among scholars of ancient Greece concerns what exactly happened to long-distance connections after the Mycenaean palatial collapse. Did eastern Mediterranean trade cease to exist? Were the Postpalatial people living on the Greek mainland cut off from imported raw materials and finished products that once seemed to be the focus of much economic activity? Did large seagoing vessels, like that of the Uluburun wreck, cease to travel between the Levant, Cyprus, and Greece bringing shipments of metals, resins, and foodstuffs? While the most prevalent arguments have highlighted discontinuity, in fact, the most recent and thorough research contradicts notions of isolation. Based on recent evidence from vibrant Postpalatial sites like Tiryns, scholars are now arguing that trade both within the Aegean and with the East did not necessarily decline during the final palatial phases or during the Postpalatial phases (Maran 2010, 247). The elites of the Postpalatial Argolid, at least, seem to have been able to acquire both raw materials and valuable finished products through long-distance trade networks (Maran 2010, 247). The overall decrease in the quantity of objects imported and found in the archaeological record may instead have to do with a drop in demand for imports rather than with a decrease in import availability (Murray 2012, 2017). Based on her analysis of all known objects imported during the Postpalatial era, Murray (2012, 102) suggests that “ . . . patterns in the number of import totals would be best understood as an epiphenomenon of population fluctuation, rather than a cause or effect of social phenomena.” In other words, although imports were quantitatively less numerous than in the palatial era, they were not particularly more unusual in terms of the number of imports relative to population size. Ultimately, then, trade did not cease to operate at any time

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after the collapse of the Mycenaean palaces and a “credible connection” persisted between Greece and other distant lands (Murray 2012, 94). Although trade in general does seem to have continued throughout the Postpalatial era, does trade in bulk oil and wine also persist? And if so, who is behind this trade and for what purpose? For long-distance imports of finished products, it has been argued that Palatial acquisition of commodities for the purpose of group legitimization gave way to uncontrolled access for the purpose of individual enrichment. It has also been suggested that the agents moving and trading the commodities transitioned from palatial officials to outsiders such as Cypriots and Italians in the LH IIIC period (Murray 2012, 464, table 5.5). Specifically, the absence of copper and tin monopolization by palatial authorities in the LH IIIC period allowed for regional exploitation of external trade routes. For example, people living in the area of Achaia in the west Peloponnese seem to have established closer connections with trade routes to Italy in order to obtain bronze (Giannopoulos 2008, 255). And, based on the presence of Near Eastern imports and an abundance of bronze objects, the community connected to the Perati cemetery seems to have had direct access to the Attic copper mines and consequently established new trading relationships with the east to obtain tin necessary for producing bronze (Iakovidis 1969, 1970; Murray 2012, 326–327, 335, 421–425). But should we really view Postpalatial people as passive receivers of trade performed by Cypriots and Italians, or is it possible to see some active role for the inhabitants of Greece as they sought to re-establish or establish new values and hierarchies through multiple modes of exchange? One piece of evidence for an active approach to trade by Postpalatial people comes from iconography on ceramics. As discussed earlier, the Postpalatial pictorial pottery presents an increase in the depiction of conflict and hunting and legitimating activities. In addition, some regions have produced many scenes of seafaring, ships, and even battles at sea (Dakoronia 1987, 1996, 1999; Dakoronia 2002, plates 3–5; Wachsmann 1998, figures 7.8, 7.15, 7.16). The area where these scenes are most abundant is coastal Lokris, Phokis, and Euboea. At the settlement of Kynos, one workshop seems to have specialized in the production of pictorial pottery. There, a number of LH IIIC Middle kraters were found depicting warriors with javelins and shields on ships (Figure 4.4; Dakoronia 1996, 2003, 2006). Other kraters depict ships with oars and steering oars, suggesting that the galley ship, a faster and safer ship, continued to be constructed after the palatial collapse and into the Early Iron Age (Wedde 2000, 2005, 2006; Eder 2006; Crielaard 2006). Galleys needed a crew of at least twenty oarsmen and up to fifty oarsmen for larger versions (depiction from Tragana has space for fifty oars: Mountjoy 1999, 357–358; Eder 2006, 551). Not only would an infrastructure be needed for the maintenance and management of these ships, but also a continued purpose for their use. Obviously, warfare was one such purpose,

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4.4 Representation of a ship on pottery from Kynos-Livanates. After Lemos 2014, 170, Fig. 4a. Image by author

but it should not be a stretch to consider their use for other ventures, such as trade. Indeed, if Postpalatial bureaucracy, whatever its exact formation, was able to muster the manpower to produce large ships and use them, it would not be surprising that these same local leaders were able to produce and exchange surplus agricultural products, such as oil and wine. For Postpalatial trade in oil and wine specifically, the best archaeological evidence remains large ceramic transport containers. As in all other aspects of the Postpalatial Greek world, the scale of production and distribution of containers diminished, resulting in less robust data from individual sites. However, based on recent excavations and publications of important sites, it is nevertheless possible to see some significant patterns in the production and distribution of large ceramic containers. When compared to the trends of previous eras, these Postpalatial patterns can provide insight into changes in the value of oil and wine and the structure and scale of dependencies around their production and distribution. Concerning the production of ceramic transport containers, three main patterns emerge: the gradual loss of specialized containers, the simplification of technological characteristics, and homogenization of style.

Loss of Specialized Containers The two most prominent containers used to transport bulk liquids in the Minoan and Mycenaean palatial eras, the oval-mouthed amphora and the transport stirrup jar, disappeared entirely by the end of the Postpalatial era. For the oval-mouthed amphora, this shape had already been gradually phased out during the LB IIIB period as the transport stirrup jar increased in popularity

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4.5 Cretan Postpalatial transport stirrup jar with octopus wavy lines from Halasmenos. Tsipopoulou 2004, 110, fig. 8.5 no. 92-9. Image courtesy of M. Tsipopoulou and INSTAP Academic Press, Philadelphia, PA

(Pratt 2016a). By the first phase of the Postpalatial era, it is clear that ovalmouthed amphoras were entirely discontinued. Transport stirrup jars had a more complicated trajectory but were nevertheless abandoned by the end of the Postpalatial era. Interestingly, while the large transport variety of the shape clearly diminished in number, the small fineware version increased exponentially, becoming the most prevalent closed shape of the era, especially on the Greek mainland. On Crete, where transport stirrup jar production had been concentrated during the palatial era, their production continued, but they were morphologically very different from most of their Late Bronze Age predecessors (Figure 4.5). Data from sites throughout the island suggest that the tall, conical variety, so popular in LM IIIB, disappeared from the Cretan LM IIIC repertoire, replaced by ovoid or globular bodies. Another distinctive feature of LM IIIC transport stirrup jars is the appearance of an air hole pierced into the false-spout cap. These holes can sometimes reach upward of 1 cm in diameter (see, e.g., no. K. 36 from Karphi, Day 2011, 246, fig. 8.3). Based on the distribution and production patterns visible in the archaeological record of Postpalatial Cretan sites, I have suggested elsewhere (Pratt 2016a) that a localized production strategy was used for LM IIIC transport stirrup jars, a strategy similar to the one used for contemporary amphoras and distinctly different from that of the previous Final Palatial era. For example, the production of local transport stirrup jars has been identified at Khania (Hallager and Hallager 2000, pl. 68c.1, no. 70-P1156), Thronos Kephala (D’Agata and Boileau 2009,

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185, 196, 202), and Karphi (Day 2011, 341, 345). This localized production pattern fits well with the overall trends of Postpalatial production discussed earlier. Each site seems to have been relatively self-sufficient, producing their own necessary products such as pottery, textiles, and metal objects, and trading some of those products with other sites. Despite the localized production of transport stirrup jars on Crete in the Postpalatial period, the shape nevertheless went out of use by the end of the era throughout the island.

Use of Household/Simple Shapes In place of oval-mouthed amphoras and transport stirrup jars, people throughout Crete and the Greek mainland widely adopted a simpler type of container for transport needs: the round-mouthed amphora (Figure 4.6). While this was not a new shape in either location (LH IIIA2, Mountjoy 1999, 1:116), its prevalence increased dramatically after the collapse of the Mycenaean palaces. Throughout the early and middle phases of LB IIIC, round-mouthed amphoras continued to be rim handled. By the late phase, however, neck-handled, round-mouthed amphoras were introduced and seem to have functioned alongside the still common rim-handled version. Despite the common shape, Cretan and mainland versions had their own characteristics. Mainland

4.6 Postpalatial round-mouthed amphora from Halasmenos. Tsipopoulou 2004, 110, Fig. 8.4. 96-358. Image courtesy of M. Tsipopoulou and INSTAP Academic Press, Philadelphia, PA

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amphoras (FS 69) have a thickened and often hollow lip and a ring base, whereas Cretan varieties often have everted lips and flat bases (Mountjoy 2009, 290–91). These respective characteristics are in keeping with the general trends of ceramic production in each region. In terms of motifs, however, mainland FS 69/70 amphoras typically have scroll motifs on the shoulder, and some Cretan round-mouthed amphoras follow this trend (see, e.g., Mountjoy 1999, 1:175, no. 377, fig. 50). When the neck-handled, round-mouthed amphora (FS 70) is introduced in the later part of the LB IIIC period, there indeed seem to be affinities between the mainland and Cretan versions. Specifically, some late examples on Crete have twisted handles, a feature that can also be observed on some late LH IIIC amphoras found in Attica and surrounding regions (Mountjoy 2009, 290, fig. 4). Just like the remaining production of Postpalatial transport stirrup jars, on Crete the production of round-mouthed amphoras was localized. Although the types of amphoras and their decoration remained relatively homogenous throughout the island (predominantly rim-handled, round-mouthed amphoras with banded decoration), they were produced at many different sites, including Thronos Kephala (at least two workshops),11 Halasmenos (Tsipopoulou 2004, 105), Karphi, Palaikastro Kastri, and Kavousi Vronda. The quantities of amphoras recovered from these sites indicate that amphora use increased during the Postpalatial era at many settlements throughout the island. In the early part of the period, transport stirrup jars may have continued to outnumber amphoras, as demonstrated by their prevalence at Khania. However, during the middle of the LM IIIC period, amphora quantities seem to have increased dramatically (Pratt 2016a). The Greek mainland seems to have followed similar trends. Like settlements on Crete, Postpalatial sites on the Greek mainland produced local roundmouthed amphoras. Unlike Cretan sites, however, mainland settlements concentrated on a repertoire of three large shapes – the jug, amphora, and hydria – all of which had basically the same formation techniques and decorative motifs. In fact, so many sites on the Greek mainland and islands produced such similar pots that the existence of a koine has been suggested (Figure 4.7). Mountjoy (2009) outlines a regional “East Mainland-Aegean Koine” that began in the LH IIIC Middle period and became fully recognizable in the Late period. This koine is based primarily on these three large closed shapes, with the addition of a straight-sided krater. It is interesting that all shapes could be associated with wine storage, transport, pouring, and consumption. While all four of these shapes might often be referred to as “household” items, during the Postpalatial era it seems that at least two, and perhaps three of them, adopted a transport role as well. As already noted, round-mouthed amphoras had been used as transport containers on Crete for quite some time, but their transport role on the mainland seems to have come about

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(a)

(b)

(c)

4.7 LH IIIC East Mainland-Aegean Koine: examples of (a) Hydria FS 128. After Mountjoy 2009, Fig. 6.1; (b) Amphora FS 70. After Mountjoy 2009, Fig. 8.1; and (c) Krater FS 282. After Mountjoy 2009, Fig. 9.5. Images by author

only during the last part of the palatial era and the Postpalatial era. This role is demonstrated by mainland amphoras discovered at the Point Iria shipwreck. Excavators found three Mycenaean rim-handled coarse-ware amphoras among

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other more common coarse-ware bulk transport containers, including eight Central Cretan transport stirrup jars, and three Cypriot pithoi (Lolos 1999; Phelps et al. 1999). These amphoras are the first southern Aegean amphoras to be found on a shipwreck. However, the most surprising and informative aspect of these amphoras is the presence of Cypro-Minoan incised marks carved on the handles (Figure 4.8). These marks are used within Eastern Mediterranean exchange networks, possibly by Cypriot middlemen, and confirm the amphoras’ role as containers for commodities, as opposed to, for example, domestic water containers for crew members (Lolos 1999, 45–47; 2003; Karageorghis, et al. 1998, 32–34. For the role of Cypro-Minoan potmarks see Hirschfeld 1999, 2001, 2002, 2004). The presence of Cypriot marks on the Mycenaean amphoras from the Point Iria wreck implies that these vessels had already passed through an established trade network. The evidence available suggests that these amphoras had moved from a domestic transport role to

4.8 Mycenaean rim-handled amphora, A99, recovered from the Point Iria Shipwreck with potmarks on handles. Photo by author

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a long-distance transport role and were consequently marked for a process of distribution. It is becoming increasingly clear that hydrias were also used for transport purposes during the Postpalatial era. Hydrias produced within the “koine” received the same body and handles as amphoras, but acquired an additional handle on the belly or shoulder. The designation of these shapes as “hydrias” based on later Classical varieties used mainly for water perhaps clouds our ability to view them as anything other than water containers. Yet, if viewed within their archaeological contexts, hydrias of the Postpalatial era could have easily served to transport other liquids, such as oil and wine, if the need arose. An example of their use within explicitly transport contexts comes from the Modi shipwreck. There, thirteen large, linear-decorated Late Helladic IIIB or IIIC hydrias were discovered (Agouridis 2011: 30–31, figs. 14–16).12 In addition, the prevalence of hydrias at Postpalatial sites on the Greek mainland noticeably increases throughout the era. In the publication of the Postpalatial levels at Mycenae, French often comments on the large quantity of hydrias in these contexts (French 2011b, 34, 46, 65, 78). Indeed, before the LH IIIC period, hydrias were altogether rare. French (2011b, 46) notes that before LH IIIC Middle examples with both linear decoration and simple motifs have not yet been found and that “the rise in popularity [of hydrias] in LH IIIC, however, seems striking.” French goes on to ask, “Does this imply some change in liquid storage/transport methods?” I believe the answer is an unequivocal yes. The disappearance of transport stirrup jars and the overall acceptance of amphoras as the common transport container would necessarily lead to the adoption of similar shapes for similar purposes. Indeed, the designation of a “koine” for the prevalence of similarly formed and decorated hydrias, amphoras, and jugs might obscure the underlying reason for these broad regional affinities. When thinking of a “koine,” most often one thinks of highly decorated fineware shapes. The fact that this particular “koine” is made up of four very large, sparsely decorated shapes might give us pause. Could it be that instead of similar trends in pottery production preferences, we are seeing a shared value system in place that results in similar styles of transport and consumption containers that serve to mark the contents of the containers in a programmatic or identifiable way? It is particularly striking that all of the shapes could easily be associated with wine. Similar to Cretan production of oval-mouthed amphoras in the Neopalatial era, sites on the Greek mainland produced their own “sets” for wine that have similar styles and functions making them easily exchangeable. Therefore, one could say that what we call a “koine” existed because of the presence of trade in commodities contained within the similarly styled pots. It is the result of commercial activity, not the cause of it.

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Simplification of Technological Characteristics One of the most significant changes in the patterns of Postpalatial transport container production was the overall simplification of techniques used to produce the available shapes. On Crete, where transport stirrup jars continued to be produced on a limited and diminishing scale, the specialized techniques in place from the previous palatial eras disappeared. Potters no longer produced transport stirrup jars in two joined halves, nor were different pastes used for handles, spouts, and bases (Haskell 1981, 192–95; Rutter 2006b, 542–43; BenShlomo et al. 2011, 332). In addition, potters widened the base, in effect decreasing the ratio of base diameter to height, a feature that Day suggests represents a storage function rather than use as a transport vessel (Day 2005, 435). For example, LM IIIC transport stirrup jars at Karphi have an average base to height ratio of 0.46 (range of 0.38–0.55) compared with an average of 0.27 (range 0.22–0.30) for LM IIIB transport stirrup jars found on the Uluburun shipwreck and at Mycenae.13 This means that the width of the bases, in proportion to the height of the vessels, increased by more than one-third. What these trends in Postpalatial amphora production suggest is an overall move toward technological simplification and the desire for flexibility in use. Specifically, we see the abandonment of two relatively complicated pots in both manufacture and decoration, the oval-mouthed amphora and transport stirrup jar, in favor of the round-mouthed amphora (and related hydria), which is easily constructed and received little decoration. In addition, round-mouthed amphoras are multi-purpose. In contrast to the narrow spout of the transport stirrup jar and restricted mouth of the oval-mouthed amphora, the wider mouth of the round-mouthed amphora allows the vessel to be more flexible in the types of commodities contained within. Therefore, from a purely functional point of view, round-mouthed amphoras were ultimately the better choice, thereby sealing the fate of transport stirrup jars within a Postpalatial Aegean socioeconomic context (Rutter 2000, 184). On the Greek mainland, the three common large closed shapes – jugs, amphoras, and hydrias – were all formed with the same technique for the body, then acquired additions that allow us to distinguish one from the other. One handle for jugs, two for amphoras, and three for hydrias. Indeed, it is often very difficult to distinguish one from the other when looking at sherd material. For example, one sherd from Troy found in House 761 in VIIb2 context has been identified as an import of this Greek “koine” but the exact shape could not be distinguished between the three large closed vessels (Mountjoy 2009, 291). The standardized formation techniques for each of these large shapes contribute to the overall trend toward simplification and flexibility. A potter could produce many standard body shapes, then add individualizing features as he or she saw fit or as the demand arose.

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Regional Networks What had once been an interregional and Aegean-wide trade in oil and wine during the Palatial eras shrank considerably in the Postpalatial era and moved toward establishing local, regional networks. This is certainly not surprising considering the overall decrease in population and settlement reorganization. However, as noted at the beginning of this section, trade in general did not cease entirely and may not have even slowed down. Instead, some sites maintained or acquired long-distance connections to the east and west and focused on acquiring metals and precious finished objects. In this situation, without the presence of an overarching palatial authority to regulate where the imports were distributed, we can imagine the creation of local and regional trade networks to support the distribution of imports to other areas of Crete and the Greek mainland interested in their consumption. At the same time, the products exchanged for those imports would likely have included value-added commodities, like oil, wine, and their derivatives. Through containers used to transport these commodities, like amphoras, hydrias, and the few remaining transport stirrup jars, we can trace some of these local and regional networks. On Crete, the general trend during the Postpalatial era was one of increased localized production of specifically rim-handled, round-mouthed amphoras coupled with interregional trade (Figure 4.9). Like oval-mouthed amphoras in the Protopalatial era, LM IIIC rim-handled, round-mouthed amphoras were widely distributed throughout the island as interregional transport containers for bulk produce. Petrographic analyses conducted at Thronos Kephala and Halasmenos suggest that a few round-mouthed amphoras were nonlocal.14 That transport stirrup jars were still used for some regional transport purposes, at least during the first phases of the Postpalatial era, can be demonstrated by the presence of a few imported examples at several sites. Nonlocal transport stirrup jars have been identified at Khania (perhaps from Knossos; Hallager and Hallager 2000, pl. 50, no. 71-P0736/0763/0779/77-P0719), Thronos Kephala (perhaps from south-central Crete; D’Agata and Boileau 2009, 185, 196, 202, nos. SY67, THK04/72), Halasmenos (Tsipopoulou 2004, 108, fig. 8.5, nos. 92–99; 105, fig. 8.2), and Kavousi Kastro (perhaps from Knossos and Palaikastro; Mook and Coulson 1997, 349, no. 49). In contrast, the examples from Karphi demonstrate that at this site, at least, transport stirrup jars functioned more frequently as locally produced storage containers than as transport containers. Only one out of the eighty-seven examples can be securely identified as an import. Continued trade in bulk liquid commodities between Crete and the Greek mainland is perhaps demonstrated by the discovery of Cretan transport containers in Postpalatial levels at Tiryns. A Cretan rim-handled, round-mouthed

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4.9 Number of transport stirrup jars and round-mouthed amphoras at LM IIIC sites on Crete. See Pratt 2016, 49, table 8 for references. Image by author

amphora with banded decoration was found in an LH IIIC (early) context (Maran 2005, 422).15 This type of amphora had never, to my knowledge, appeared off the island until that point, suggesting that the Cretan amphora, as a transport container, may have been promoted to a long-distance role at that time. Additionally, transport stirrup jars may have retained their use within the Crete-Mainland trade network, although only for a brief extent of time in the beginning of the Postpalatial era. In the LH IIIC (early) phases of Tiryns Stadt Nordost (phases 1 and 2), there are thirty-three fragments of distinct Cretan transport stirrup jars present. In LH IIIC (middle) (phases 3 and 4), there are seven Cretan transport stirrup jars present, and in LH IIIC (late) (phase 5) no transport stirrup jars are present.16 The significant drop-off in transport stirrup jar numbers implies that the connection with Crete lasted for only a short time after the LH IIIC transition at Tiryns. On the Postpalatial mainland, regional trade networks for bulk oil and wine can perhaps be seen through the distribution of amphoras and hydrias. However, more work is needed to fully understand the extent to which these vessels were exchanged. For example, at Elateia-Alonaki, a large twohandled amphora (T.XII/A4) found in Tomb XII/87 was imported from Achaia, as made evident by its hard and dark brownish-red fabric, typical of Achaian products (Deger-Jalkotzy 2003, 64). Elateia was situated on the main routes of the Mainland from north to south and from east to west. It

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therefore comes as no surprise that Elateia received not only items of exchange from various directions, but also cultural influences. Finds at Elateia of amber, glass beads, and Italic metal objects demonstrate that the people of Elateia were involved in the transportation of goods of transAdriatic origin along the “Great Isthmos Corridor” route (Deger-Jalkotzy 2007, 144). In addition, the discovery of amphoras and hydrias on shipwrecks around the coast of the Peloponnese suggests that these containers and their contents were shipped by sea in addition to overland routes. This versatility fits well with the trends of transport container production and the desire for simplicity and flexibility. In addition to the few traces of trade in bulk quantities of oil and wine, it is also possible to see trade in oil, wine, and derivatives on a smaller scale. Specifically, trade using small stirrup jars, amphoriskoi, and flasks was relatively abundant during the Postpalatial era, as attested by imported examples at most sites. For example, the cemetery at Elateia-Alonaki has a few small fine decorated stirrup jars and amphoriskoi imported from the Argolid and Achaia (Deger-Jalkotzy 2007, 130–133). In addition, Cretan products, especially small stirrup jars, continued to travel to coastal sites in Laconia (Demakopoulou 2009), Tiryns (Maran 2005), and island sites such as Naxos (Vlachopoulos 2003). As mentioned earlier, small stirrup jars and amphoriskoi are most often found in funerary contexts. However, at the coastal Lokrian site of Kynos, the stirrup jar is “strongly represented” (Dakoronia 2007, 121). They tend to be small or medium size, have fine well-fired clay, and are decorated with groups of thin lines around the belly or elaborated triangles on the shoulder or with degenerated pleonastic octopus motifs. Kynos is best known for its pottery manufacturing, especially pictorial kraters and elaborate containers. Is it possible, then, that potters at Kynos were producing small stirrup jars to be filled with perfumed oils and wines, then traded within local and regional markets and eventually deposited in tombs? Until more stirrup jars from Kynos are identified at other Postpalatial sites, this idea is mostly speculative. It does, however, highlight the local and regional character of trade networks at this time.

Limited Long-Distance Trade in Oil and Wine It should briefly be mentioned that there is some evidence suggesting continued long-distance trade in bulk oil and wine during the first part of the Postpalatial era. Specifically, the exportation of transport stirrup jars from Crete in LM IIIC may be demonstrated by finds on Cyprus and possibly even Egypt (Maran 2005, 416; Haider 2007). As mentioned at the outset of this section, some scholars have argued that during the Postpalatial era, seafaring entrepreneurs were mostly non-Greeks and included Cypriots and Italians. These people were therefore

COMMERCIAL EXCHANGE

responsible for the continuity of long-distance trade networks during this era of transition. If this is the case, then perhaps we should not be surprised to find Postpalatial transport containers from Crete on the mainland or Cyprus. Indeed, multiple sites on the island have produced both fragments and whole vessels that are Postpalatial in style and archaeological context. Enkomi, Hala Sultan Tekke, and Maa Palaikastro each have fragments of Cretan transport stirrup jars. They are all in LC IIIA or IIIB levels (post 1200 BCE). Some scholars have dismissed these as earlier vessels being reused or somehow infiltrating later strata (Haskell 1981). However, more evidence has come to light since then, especially on Crete itself, to suggest that Postpalatial transport stirrup jars on Cyprus may not be out of the question. Catling (1997) interpreted the Postpalatial Cypriot transport stirrup jars differently. He noticed that the frequency of Minoan transport stirrup jars rises markedly in Enkomi and Hala Sultan Tekke from LC II to LC IIIA. This distribution would suggest that more vessels were coming in after the collapse as there would not be enough of them beforehand to produce the distribution evident after 1200 BCE. They must, therefore, have been coming directly from Crete (Maran 2005, 416). Another long-distance connection might be hinted at in wall paintings from the tomb of Ramesses III (Figure 4.10). Haider (2007) suggests that Egyptian

4.10 Postpalatial Cretan transport stirrup jars depicted on the walls of Ramesses III’s tomb. After Haider 2007, 187, fig. 3 A,D. Image by author

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pharaohs were still receiving or acquiring Cretan transport stirrup jars after the palatial collapse. The four vessels pictured on the walls of Ramesses III’s tomb match the characteristics of Cretan Postpalatial transport stirrup jar morphology: wide, flat base and belly decorated in simple bands or designs. Haider (2007) draws attention to correspondingly decorated transport stirrup jars found at Tourloti, Episkopi, and Karphi and suggests that the elites at these three settlements might have been in direct or indirect contact with Egyptian merchants and elites. As we have already discussed, however, Postpalatial stirrup jars were relatively widespread across the island with their production sites at different locations. At this point it is impossible to say exactly which settlements were in contact with foreign merchants, if any. That there was a possibility for contact, and with an area as far away as Egypt so soon after the collapse of the palaces, is the most important aspect of this discovery. However, it must be acknowledged that even if one could prove the presence of Postpalatial transport stirrup jars in Egypt, those containers were nevertheless soon discontinued in favor of the amphora.

Trade Conclusions The amphora may thus have been adopted as the primary transport container in the Postpalatial era as a result of changing socioeconomic conditions after the collapse of LM/LH IIIB social structures. Newly established hierarchies and population patterns led to new social needs that prompted the preference for a morphologically simpler and more flexible product, the amphora, over a complicated and possibly restricted vessel, the transport stirrup jar. This hypothesis is supported by quantitative data that show amphora production and variability increased throughout the LM IIIC period (Pratt 2016a). Schiffer (2011, 52) suggests that “technologies tend towards stability but are changed as people solve problems presented by altered societal and environmental factors.” If this is the case, then we must assume that the appearance of new social needs prompted these technological changes. The social processes underlying these changes were new peer competitions and new social groups created after the Mycenaean palatial collapse. Stockhammer (2008, 283) suggests that a change in the significance of the transport stirrup jar in Postpalatial Tiryns is linked to a change in the Postpalatial social system. These same connections can be seen on Crete, where during the LM IIIC period social change prompted transport stirrup jars and amphoras to be regarded and used differently (Schiffer 2011, 43–49). Coupled with a deliberate and consistent change in vessel morphology across the island, the trade pattern suggests that while the major palatial centers on the mainland had ceased their high demand for Cretan transport stirrup jars, local centers on Crete may have retained enough authority to continue reduced production of a modified version. More specifically, emerging Cretan elites

CHAPTER CONCLUSIONS

in the LM IIIC period relied on controlling special resources and technological knowledge, which could have been manifested in the production of transport stirrup jars and their contents (Borgna 2003, 164). The LM IIIC Cretan elite may have sought to align themselves with the previous LM IIIB regional administrative authorities by maintaining the same ceramic shape to ship their commodities. As the power of these new elites waned by the middle of the LM IIIC period, however, people may have viewed transport stirrup jars in a new light. Desiring a simpler and more flexible vessel, people may have shifted to amphora use. CHAPTER CONCLUSIONS

Despite significant changes to the scale, context, and characteristics of exchange modes from the Palatial to the Postpalatial era, both olive oil and wine remained integral components of sociopolitical and economic life. Based on the trends visible in commensal, gift, and commercial exchanges, both commodities retained a high value and deep entanglement within the Greek cultural milieu. Yet, the ways in which that value was constructed and the character of the entanglement adapted as the memory of the Mycenaean palaces waned and new social and economic networks were established. By focusing on the transitions in scale and characteristics of exchange modes using surplus oil and wine, it is possible to see patterns produced as a result of changes to how the value of these commodities was constructed within the cultural economy. Compared to the previous Palatial era, the entanglement visible in the Postpalatial era diminished in scale but retained some of the centralization that characterized Mycenaean entanglements. Archaeological evidence of commensal events suggests that the scale of feasting decreased substantially and took on particularly personal or cohesive characteristics, focusing on legitimizing the local ruler or maintaining local social ties. Patterns in storage magazines and containers suggest that smaller quantities of oil and wine were being produced and reserved. This smaller scale of surplus retention could be the cause and result of both commodities becoming more restricted, reserved for special exchange contexts. Consequently, within these feasting exchanges, the high value of oil and wine would have been constructed by fewer participants than during the previous Palatial era. Unlike the large-scale diacritical commensal events within palatial settings, the prestige and power associated with providing oil and wine during Postpalatial commensal events would have been based on having access to any surplus of these two commodities and exchanging it with a select group of people. Within the context of gift exchange, the value of oil and wine remained high, but was perhaps constructed in a slightly different way from the previous Palatial era. There was a continuity in the frequent inclusion of vessels

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containing small amounts of perfumed oil and wine as funerary gifts. At the same time, however, these containers received more elaborate decoration and were perhaps more restricted to wealthy tombs. That the value of oil and wine was constructed within a smaller, perhaps more local, network of agents is supported by the local production of the ceramic containers and, presumably their contents, instead of importing them from elsewhere. The simplifications in technological characteristics of transport jar production and the loss of specialized containers also suggests a change in the value of their contents. If oil and wine were once given designated containers, which were then marketed on a larger eastern Mediterranean commercial network, the change to simple, homogenous, and multipurpose containers suggests that bulk quantities of oil and wine were no longer marketed and perceived in the same way. It is perhaps the equivalent of name-brand wine or oil disappearing in favor of the “generic” brand. This is perhaps also reflected in the local and regional character of trade networks at this time. The small scale of trade in bulk commodities using similarly styled containers would imply a certain degree of interchangeability. This would be useful when negotiating a value for oil and wine to be used on a regional trade network where the types of dependencies between people and these two commodities would have been very similar. These changes in the physical remains of exchanges might suggest that without the centralized connections in place from the previous Palatial era, the high value of oil and wine was constructed within more local contexts. Characteristics of dependency between people and things, though harder to view through the archaeological record, can nevertheless come to the fore through combined patterns of production, storage, and exchange. When it comes to commensal exchange in the Postpalatial era, the appearance of smaller feasting venues suggests that fewer people were involved within each occasion. At the same time, each settlement, and perhaps each large household or oikos, held its own commensal events as signifiers of status and wealth. Therefore, the dependencies between people, oil, and wine would have altered toward more local networks of reliance. There was no longer a central palatial authority from which dependencies were generated and controlled. Instead, local leaders or authorities would have aided in the maintenance of local dependencies on the production of surplus oil and wine, their storage in centralized or oikos-based residences, and their exchange. These dependencies continued to include specialized craftspeople who made the containers for oil and wine storage and consumption, but now it seems clear that these craftspeople resided locally. A decrease in the overall scale of dependency upon oil and wine for gift exchange is supported by the small amounts of the liquids themselves. No longer are palaces concerned with producing large amounts of surplus perfumed oil. Instead, local leaders and elites seem to be maintaining the production of these commodities for their own use within small-scale exchange

CHAPTER CONCLUSIONS

contexts and, specifically, funerary offerings. The disappearance of the small stirrup jar toward the end of the Postpalatial era might signal the continued decrease in dependency upon oil and wine for this particular exchange mode. Perfumed oil and wine might have declined in importance as grave offerings at the end of the period, although their overall value never seems to disappear as oils and wine continued to be produced and were reinstated as the predominant offerings to the deceased in the Early Iron Age. For commercial exchange, the dependencies between people and between people and things would have diminished substantially as specialized containers, requiring specialized knowledge, were discontinued. In fact, it seems that most, if not all, local potters would have been capable of producing the standard amphora-type seen both on Crete and on the Greek mainland. People would be less dependent on other people and that dependency would no longer have been created by the central authorities, who were the main consumers of bulk oil and wine transported in transport stirrup jars. Based on these trends in feasting, gift, and commercial exchange visible in the archaeological record of the Postpalatial era, I suggest that the entanglement in place from the previous Palatial era diminished substantially in scale and moderately in centrality, gaining a more “local” character. Specifically, the Postpalatial entanglement shifted toward an overall decrease in the number of nodes within the entanglement’s network and their physical proximity to one another. A small-scale supply of surplus oil and wine seems to have been produced locally, reserved, and carefully controlled by local authorities in order to be used for exchange modes that supported their ability to acquire such value-added goods. In all three of these exchange modes, it is possible to see the establishment of relatively heterarchical nodes that interact with one another using similar value systems. These value systems are constructed by collective agencies that are symmetrical, meaning the people and things have assimilated similar ideas of what value is and how it is achieved, thereby allowing for more fluid exchanges between networks of collective agencies and their valuation of commodities. This is evidenced in the very similar attributes of architectural setting and equipment for commensal activities, types of containers used for funerary gifts of oil and wine, and the homogenous styles of liquid transport containers used throughout Crete and the Greek mainland. The specifically local character of oil and wine entanglement seems to have grown as new regional koines formed along with differing social structures, and supra-regional institutions, such as extra-urban sanctuaries, came into existence. At the close of the Postpalatial era, turmoil once again came to many of the settlements on both the mainland and Crete. Prominent sites, including Tiryns, Kynos, Lefkandi, and Mycenae suffered dramatic declines, even more precipitous than after the palatial collapse. In fact, it is now widely believed that the

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destructions at the end of the LM/LH IIIC period were more severe and farreaching than those that brought about the beginning of the Postpalatial era. One factor that might have contributed to this second collapse is increasingly intense climate change. The onset of an arid phase that seems to have helped agriculture thrive at the beginning of the LH IIIC period might have intensified into a longterm drought. Climatologists believe that the years around 1000 BCE in Greece would have been particularly severe, only to decrease in severity during the ensuing three centuries (Brooke 2014, 299; Weiberg and Finné 2018, 589). This climate change might have sparked social disruptions in an already unstable political environment. Olive and grape production certainly would have been affected by these changes as both plants, but especially grapes, are sensitive to water shortages. If this is the case, we can imagine that the exchange modes necessitating large surpluses of oil and wine would increasingly break down, especially commensal activities where the goal is legitimization and cohesion. As discussed in Chapter 5, one reaction to these changes is a shift in the population density toward the north where water was more plentiful. At the end of the Postpalatial era, four or five generations after the collapse of palatial rule, the collective memory of such an intricate system of bureaucracy and surplus maintenance would have all but disappeared and the realities of local and regional networks would have set in. At that point, it was the responsibility of local rulers and their regional connections to maintain the strength of their settlements through the enactment of exchanges necessary for the functioning of a society based on communal ideals and values. If people were dependent upon oil and wine for the proper functioning of commensal acts, rituals, and commercial exchange, how did negative climatic trends affect the production of surplus and the value of these commodities? The next chapter explores how the status of oil and wine as cultural commodities in Early Iron Age Greece necessitated adaptation on multiple levels to continue their production and exchange.

FIVE

REBUILDING THE RELATIONSHIP Oil and Wine in Early Iron Age Greece

A

lthough the status of oil and wine as cultural commodities continued into the Early Iron Age (ca. 1000–750 BCE), the specific roles of these commodities and their entanglement with people shifted as significant social, economic, and political changes occurred. Demographic changes along with changes in burial practices and architectural techniques, not to mention the loss of written language and many Bronze Age artistic practices, signal a new phase of Greek life. In this period, surpluses in oil and wine remain visible in the archaeological record through evidence such as feasting assemblages, iconography, burial equipment, and large-scale deposits at regional sanctuaries. In addition, there is some evidence to suggest continued use of surplus oil and wine for commercial exchange, or at least long-distance exchange of some sort. The amphora type known as “North Aegean” is found not only throughout this region of Greece, but also along the coast of Thessaly, in the Thermaic Gulf region, and even at sites along the Anatolian coast including Troy. In combination, evidence from this period suggests that surplus oil and wine continued to be used in similar exchange contexts as the previous Bronze Age, but in different social contexts related to different cultural connections, regional networks, and a new northwest Aegean koine (Map 5.1).1 In many regions of Greece, Early Iron Age sociopolitical contexts diverged from the preceding Postpalatial era, affecting the ways in which oil and wine were produced and exchanged. Archaeologically, these changes can be seen through architecture, settlement characteristics, and burial trends. For example, 197

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map 5.1 Map with the northwest Aegean koine highlighted. After Gimatzidis 2011, 968. Image by author

the beginning of the Early Iron Age brought a transformation in building techniques in central Greece, including the (re)introduction of curvilinear buildings and cist tombs. These features, however, had never disappeared in areas of Thessaly and Macedonia where large apsidal buildings have been attested for the Late Bronze Age (e.g., Kastanas; Crielaard 2006, 285; Lemos 2002, 150; Mazarakis-Ainian 1997). During the Early Iron Age, most northwest Aegean settlements would have been scattered and small, between thirty and fifty people, while some others were larger such as Athens, Lefkandi, and Thessaloniki Toumba. Settlements of the Early Iron Age were generally characterized by stability, a necessary feature for the continued maintenance of tree crops and the production of oil and wine. During the Protogeometric period, at least, there is no evidence for major abandonments or destruction of sites (Lemos 2002,

OI L A ND W I NE I N EAR LY I R ON AG E GR EECE

191). Settlements in central Greece shared a number of features, yet the most interesting is that there was usually one house that stood out from the others because of its size, location, or other features. This structure is generally labeled as a ruler’s dwelling or cult structure (Mazarakis-Ainian 1997; Descoeudres 2008, 355). In contrast, settlements in Macedonia appear to be less hierarchical, or perhaps oligarchic, as houses located on the summit of mound sites tend to be relatively homogenous (Margomenou 2005). This is not to say, however, that a leader or leaders of the community did not exist. At the same time, each compound contained extensive indications of crop storage, mainly in pithoi, and extensive facilities for the preparation and consumption of large quantities of food and wine (Andreou and Psaraki 2007, 402). Indeed, during the Early Iron Age it seems that the success of leaders in both the south and north depended in part upon control of land and labor and the use of animals as a sign of wealth (Palmer 2001, 67; Andreou 2003). One of the major developments of the Early Iron Age is the emergence of regional and settlement-specific sanctuaries. These places became significant contexts for oil and wine exchange through commensal events and offerings. Archaeological data suggest that there were fewer than 40 sanctuaries and cult palaces in the ninth century, which rose to almost 60 in the Middle Geometric period and 120 in the second half of the eighth century (Descoeudres 2008, 322). A particular advancement was the creation of a building strictly used for cultic activity, the temple. But this development was gradual. At the beginning of the Early Iron Age local cultic activities still seem to have been performed under the auspices of the ruler in his house (Mazarakis-Ainian 1997, 2007). At the same time, regional sanctuaries were created or continued from the Late Bronze Age. For example, the temple at Kalapodi presents evidence for uninterrupted cult activities from the Late Bronze Age through the Early Iron Age and into the Archaic period, corresponding to the continuous occupation of most sites in the broader vicinity (Livieratou 2011, 152). Material culture of the area also finds parallels in the offerings deposited at Kalapodi throughout the transition from the Late Bronze Age to the Early Iron Age. The Early Iron Age was a time of movements, both large and small, within the Aegean and the broader Mediterranean, a trend that facilitated the continued exchange of surplus oil and wine. The period is marked with the movement of people, commodities, and ideas, in part fueled by the foundation of colonies, and smaller trading ventures. Throughout all of these various scales of movement, Greeks maintained settlement continuity and agricultural stability in many mainland regions, though some more than others. The Greek movements westward to Aeolis, Ionia, and Doris are only discussed by much later authors (e.g., Strabo 13.1.3–4) and are consequently skewed, necessitating a critical assessment.2 Perhaps more historically concrete, though not without its criticisms, is the movement of southern Greeks northward to Thessaly and

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Macedonia. Later Greek authors often characterize these movements as colonial foundations. For our purposes here, the most important and possibly earliest colonies are said to have been founded in the north Aegean by Euboeans. Specifically, historical tradition places the Euboeans at the foundations of Mende and Methone in the eighth century BCE.3 Evidence often cited for Early Iron Age movement north comes in the form of a type of skyphos (cup) with pendant semicircle decoration that came to represent Euboean presence or influence.4 Other possible forms of evidence for Euboean presence in Macedonia may come from sanctuaries, such as the Sanctuary of Poseidon Pontios near Mende, though this too is questionable.5 Although it is uncertain whether Euboeans settled in the Chalkidike and Pieria at such an early date, by the eighth century BCE a new wave of colonists came from the Euboean cities of Chalcis and Eretria. However, Euboeans were not the only people moving north, but were part of a larger movement of people from diverse places such as Andros, Corinth, and Paros. As these demographic and social trends developed in the Early Iron Age, oil and wine continued to hold prominent places in commensal, gift, and commercial exchanges, but were valued and used in new ways. The changes in patterns of production and exchange of oil and wine from the Postpalatial era to the Early Iron Age convey meaningful information about how sociopolitical and economic hierarchies and networks developed and were maintained during a period of supposed isolation and regression. Indeed, by examining closely how the relationships between people and oil and wine adapted over these few hundred years, it becomes increasingly clear that people continued many of the same traditions and connections from previous eras but used innovative strategies to cope with their changing social and environmental contexts. PRODUCTION OF OIL AND WINE

Continuing the trend from the last two eras, there is a significant dearth of pressing equipment or installations of any kind from Early Iron Age settlements on the Greek mainland. Even in regions where only a few centuries later written sources will testify to its thriving oil or wine production (e.g., Mende in Chalkidike or even Klazomenai in Ionia), no obvious evidence for the physical crushing of olives and grapes in the Early Iron Age survives. As was the case for the Late Bronze Age and Postpalatial era, this in no way indicates a halt in oil and wine production. Instead, we are faced with the same possibilities for the previous 400 years or more. On the Greek mainland, whatever process existed during the Palatial and Postpalatial eras for crushing olives and grapes most likely survived into the Early Iron Age and either is not visible archaeologically, or we have yet to find or identify the pressing installations. As mentioned in Chapter 1, possibilities for the reasons behind our lack

PRODUCTION OF OIL A ND WINE

of grape/olive presses include their use only in the countryside where few excavations have taken place, their simple construction (e.g., shallow bedrock cuttings), or their construction using perishable material (for grapes, wooden or woven baskets). That production of oil and wine certainly continued in the Early Iron Age is attested by a few types of archaeological evidence, including archaeobotanical remains such as olive pits, crushed grape pips, and pollen, as well as specialized storage containers/facilities. In addition, a change in climatic conditions from the Late Bronze Age might have affected the cultivation strategies of both olives and grapes, thereby forcing people to adapt in ways that are archaeologically visible.

Archaeobotanical Evidence One of the best resources for evidence of olive and grape cultivation in the Early Iron Age is archaeobotanical remains including seeds, charcoal, and pollen. However, when approaching the analysis of olive and vine cultivation, it must be kept in mind that the Early Iron Age is characterized by regionalism, with some areas reacting to the new environment differently and therefore implementing differing agronomic strategies based on population density, hierarchical institutions, and external contacts. But, in general, it seems that agricultural practices in all regions of Greece remained relatively unchanged from the Postpalatial era. People maintained similar ratios of arboreal, cereal, and pastoral management, but changed the scale of cultivation (Palmer 2001; Foxhall 2007). This is perhaps most evident in the north Aegean where areas without Mycenaean palaces (and hence without “collapse”) produced clear continuity in agronomic regimes and consumption practices (Papadopoulos 2005). Evidence for continuity of olive cultivation into the Early Iron Age comes from southern and central Greece. Despite some evidence for decreasing scales of cultivation, archaeobotanical remains of olives are present at most sites where data have been systematically collected, even those in more remote regions. For example, the settlement of Nichoria in western Messenia lasted around 200 years and raised sheep and goats for meat. Cattle were most likely used primarily for draft animals rather than meat despite a 30–40 percent increase in their numbers from the Bronze Age. Seed remains found during excavation show that grains, grapes, olives, figs, and peas were exploited (Shay and Shay 1978). This is further supported by charcoal from pruned branches of olive, fig, and grape (Palmer 2001, 69). Pollen cores from the region do show a general decrease in the overall quantity of olive tree pollen compared to the previous Late Bronze Age. This decrease is likely due to the general population decline evident in Messinia after the collapse of the Mycenaean palace at Pylos. Farther north at Delphi, a rectangular building dated to the tenth century BCE

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contained a hearth with animal bones and olive stones (Luce 1992, 698–700; 1993, 623–631). On the availability of olive oil, Lin Foxhall (2007, 17) suggests that olive oil at this time should be considered a semi-luxury commodity, available at times in smaller quantities to a large section of society but not necessarily an everyday staple. An Early Iron Age restriction for olive oil may be due to limited access to an olive press and the labor necessary to tend and harvest large orchards. Only some regions had sufficient levels of population and stability to support extensive olive cultivation (Crielaard 2011, 97). One of these regions might have been Attica, where pollen analysis suggests an increase in olive cultivation after 1150 BCE at the same time that pollen associated with large-scale cereal cultivation decreased substantially (Kouli 2011). Based on pollen levels, similar intensification of olive exploitation has been suggested for the Argolid (Sheehan 1979; Jahns 1993), Kotihi lagoon (Lazarova et al. 2009), and Messenia (Engel et al. 2009) during Geometric, Archaic, and Classical times. When it comes to oil, northern Greece presents an entirely different situation from central and southern Greece. For the Bronze and Iron Ages, there is very little evidence for the cultivation of olives farther north than Thessaly.6 The colder and wetter climate did not easily support olive trees (Kroll 2000, 65). Instead, archaeobotanical evidence suggests that people in northern Greece relied primarily on other oil-producing plants and perhaps some imported olive oil from the south. Alternative oil-producing plants included linseed, flax, Lallemantia, Gold of Pleasure (Camelina sativa L.), and poppy. Poppy remains are relatively abundant and even make up 7 percent of the botanical remains from Kastanas (Megaloudi 2004, 156). Lallemantia was introduced to northern Greece during the Bronze Age, perhaps via the metals trade with the Near East. It has been found at Mandalo, Archondiko, Assiros, Kastanas, and Ayios Mamas. Other oil plants include linseed, identified at Makriyalos and Arkadikos from the sixth millennium and as pure concentrations in the Bronze Age at Archondiko and Assiros (Jones and Valamoti 2005). Groups of these oil plants have been found together in storerooms. At Assiros, poppy, Lallemantia, and linseed were found in the same storeroom (Jones and Valamoti 2005), and Gold of Pleasure (Camelina sativa L.) was found with poppy and linseed as pure concentrations at Kastanas (Kroll 1983). The processing of these plants to extract oil would have taken much more effort and skill, with very little oil produced in return. It seems clear, therefore, that oils in northern Greece were more restricted and were probably not produced in significant surplus quantities. Archaeobotanical evidence for grape cultivation is present at most sufficiently excavated sites throughout Greece and is especially prominent in the north. Bronze and Iron Age sites with evidence for grape exploitation include Servia, Mandalo, Archondiko, Angelochori, Kastanas, Assiros, Toumba

PRODUCTION OF OIL A ND WINE

Thessaloniki, Mesimeriani Toumba, Agios Mamas, Dimitra, Sitagroi, Diktili Tash, and Skala Sotiros (Valamoti et al. 2015, 127 with refs.). At Thessaloniki Toumba, wine-making is indicated by archaeobotanical remains, including numerous grape pips and skins (Andreou 2003; Andreou and Psaraki 2007, 403). Archaeobotanical evidence from Kastanas suggests that during the Late Bronze Age grape seeds appear to be thinner than in previous periods. This, plus the large number of weeds, might indicate that cultivation had reached the limits of possible exploitation (Kroll 1983). During the Early Iron Age, although the variety of cultivated plants was reduced, the quality of production was significantly improved. The size of fruits increased and the quantity of weeds was reduced, suggesting that a more sustainable, less intensive, agricultural strategy was adopted (Margomenou 2005, 195). Sites in northern Greece that have levels dating to the end of the Early Iron Age and beginning of the Archaic period, such as Karabournaki and Polichni, have also produced archaeobotanical assemblages with evidence for grape exploitation (Valamoti 2005). These trends are not confined to the north. Many Protogeometric sites farther south have produced evidence for grapes including Iolkos, Kalapodi, Delphi, and Nichoria (Megaloudi 2004, 152). In contrast to the evidence available for the restricted access to oil, wine seems to have been a more accessible commodity. For example, at eighthcentury Zagora, there is no evidence for elite control of any particular commodity, and vessels associated with the consumption of wine (kraters, skyphoi, kantharoi, and kotylai) have been recovered from every excavated area of the settlement (McLoughlin 2011, 917). This ubiquity does not, however, mean that each household was capable of producing the amounts of surplus necessary for exchange. In addition, the evidence for Zagora comes from the end of the Early Iron Age, a time when transitions in the overall value and dependency on oil and wine changed substantially, as will be discussed in Chapter 6.

Specialized Storage for Bulk Agricultural Commodities Other hints of continuity in olive oil and wine production, or at least the ability to produce a surplus of bulk commodities, come from an increase in storage capacity at multiple prominent sites. This change is represented by a dramatic increase in pithos sherds in LH IIIC Late, the Submycenaean period and the Protogeometric period in the areas of Lokris and Phokis (Lis and Rückl 2011; Caroline Belz, pers. comm., notices an increase in incised pithos sherds during survey of the area around Mitrou). In a study of pithoi with impressed decoration, Lis and Rückl (2011, 162) suggest that the real floruit of this shape occurred during the Middle and Late Geometric period at sites such as Lefkandi, Corinth, Tiryns, and Argos. In addition, many of these pithoi recovered from Mitrou seem to have been produced at nearby Kalapodi.

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Another workshop may also be located near the coastal site of Kynos (Lis and Rückl 2011, 162). The time-consuming decoration of impressed pithoi suggests that they had some purpose beyond mere storage. As objects of display, they “embody or manifest owners’ ideas and intentions in reaction to the goods stored in them” which might indicate the role of the surplus toward social or political goals (Lis and Rückl 2011, 162). While it is not always necessary to have an elite-based hierarchy for the production of surplus, evidence nevertheless exists for the presence of an elite class (e.g., the Toumba building at Lefkandi, evidence for feasting at Kalapodi, and elite tombs at Elateia). The large number of pithoi found at the sanctuary of Kalapodi and their production nearby might indicate the presence of a priest class or some form of religious personnel with the capability to manipulate the production and distribution of surplus agricultural material. The desire to continue producing labor-intensive surplus commodities may have been triggered by competition in the form of conspicuous consumption and control over resources, an aspect of social life that had clearly continued from the Palatial period. A similar situation seems to have occurred on the island of Andros during the Geometric period. In this case, however, a certain type of pithos, the appliedrelief pithos, seems to have been specifically fabricated to hold wine.7 In particular, McLoughlin (2011, 919) suggests that these vessels might have contained aged wines as described in Homer’s Odyssey, when Telemachos goes to get provisions from his father’s storeroom for his journey to Sparta (Od. 2.337–355). As speculated for the pithoi in Early Iron Age central Greece discussed earlier, it is possible that the high visibility of the applied-relief decoration served to advertise the high quality of the contents and promote the owner’s surplus to prospective buyers (McLoughlin 2011, 920). McLoughlin concludes that if Zagora was an exporter of surplus wine, then traders might have stopped there while providing passage for the TenianBoiotian applied-relief pithos makers. It is an interesting coincidence that both Naxos and Rhodes were famous for both their applied-relief pithos makers and their wine (McLoughlin 2011, 920). Other pithoi found in Crete and Boiotia seem to mimic certain traits typically reserved for amphoras, such as two handles extending from shoulder to neck (Ebbinghaus 2005, 53). These handles were purely decoration since a jar this size would not have been easily lifted, especially when full. The pithoi found on Zagora may, therefore, be part of a much broader trend where pithoi became status markers as a form of “conspicuous storage” (Ebbinghaus 2005, 69). Based on the presence of incised pithoi at the beginning of the Early Iron Age, it might be speculated that “conspicuous storage” had already been a popular means of acquiring prestige for many generations.

PRODUCTION OF OIL A ND WINE

Possible Effects of Climate Change There is some indication that climatic shifts at the end of the Bronze Age might have not only played a role in the downfall of the Mycenaean palatial regime, but also may have ushered in the dramatic sociocultural and demographic changes characteristic of the Early Iron Age in Greece. As discussed in the introduction, it is difficult to align evidence for broad climate change with archaeological data in a specific region of the Mediterranean since each region often experienced slightly different climatic events. Yet despite the intervariability common for the eastern Mediterranean climate, proxy evidence does suggest that the southern Aegean experienced “rapid climate change” characterized by particularly cool temperatures and dry conditions at the turn of the millennium (Mayewski et al. 2004). The steady increase in aridity that might have at first benefited crop production and reduced the need for water management structures such as dams, canals, and drainage channels seems to have changed sharply around 1000 BCE. Around 1000 BCE, a “deep solar minimum” occurred that resulted in abnormally cold conditions for a short amount of time. At the same time, or slightly before, a strong “Siberian High” sent “outbursts of cold winter weather” as far south as the Aegean Sea (Brooke 2014, 301; Weiberg and Finné 2018, 589). These events equate to a “perfect storm” of climate change affecting the people in southern Greece around the transition from the Late Bronze Age to the Early Iron Age. This “terminal Bronze Age crisis of 1200–1000 BC” is considered “one of the major setbacks of global population growth” (Brooke 2014, 271). In contrast, the turn of the millennium in northern Greece was characterized by constant wetter conditions. Proxy data from stalagmites and lake cores in the northern Aegean region point unquestionably toward a more humid phase that lasted from ca. 1450 to 750 BCE (Psomiadis et al. 2018). At the same time, however, proxy evidence indicates that northern Greece was also subjected to rapid cooling around 1050 BCE. Although both southern and northern Greece experienced cooler temperatures, northern Greece benefited from continued water availability whereas southern Greece plunged into drier conditions. It is impossible to know the exact effects of these climatic changes on the cultivation of olives and grapes. However, based on modern scientific research and historical data from the last millennium, as outlined in Chapter 1, it is possible to know the general reactions of grapevines and olive trees to cooler and drier environments. Short-term reactions include limited growth and hiatus in fruit production. Over the long-term, however, cooler conditions would force olive tree cultivation to seek warmer regions if temperatures during winter were commonly below freezing. Historical trends suggest that

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during extended dry conditions, grapevine cultivation shifted toward higher elevations and latitudes seeking out areas with more available water.8 It is possible, therefore, that the relatively high humidity of the northern Aegean during the Early Iron Age would have resulted in increased grape cultivation. It could be speculated that at least at the beginning of the Early Iron Age, the cool and dry change might have played a role in the desire for populations to seek more northerly habitations, such as Pieria and Macedonia, where rainfall is much more plentiful and fresh water is abundant. Perhaps this explains why the only ceramic bulk liquid transport containers in existence at this time seem to originate from Thessaly and Macedonia (as discussed further on). MODES OF EXCHANGE IN THE EARLY IRON AGE

As in previous eras, the remains of commensal events, funerary offerings, and large ceramic transport containers, suggests that oil and wine continued to play prominent roles in Early Iron Age exchange contexts. Like the Postpalatial era, the Early Iron Age presents less abundant archaeological evidence for exchange events than the Palatial eras when excess and grand scales were the norm. Yet it is nevertheless possible to see surplus in transaction as many of the contexts discussed later display clear evidence for scales above household use. Despite another round of cultural and demographic shifts at the end of the Postpalatial era, oil and wine maintained their status as cultural commodities. Although the high value of both commodities was constructed differently as the scale, context, and frequency of exchange events changed, the relationship of dependency continued from the previous era. Oil and wine were not only highly valued, but also necessary commodities for the proper functioning of feasts, offerings, and commercial transactions in the Early Iron Age. COMMENSAL EXCHANGE: LOCAL, REGIONAL, AND RITUAL

There are significant changes in feasting practices from the Postpalatial era to the Early Iron Age. As in former eras, however, wine seems to have remained the central focus of these commensal events, as drinking paraphernalia continued to dominate feasting assemblages. The exchange of oil during these events, although less obvious within the material record, can nevertheless be assumed based on the presence of ceramic shapes associated with perfumed oils. The value and dependency on these two liquids does seem to shift, however, as new feasting practices took root. We can see these changes in the use of surplus oil and wine for feasting exchange through the archaeological record via the use of new feasting locations (leaders’ dwellings, regional temples), changes in

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feasting equipment (kraters, bowls, disappearance of kylikes, disappearance of small stirrup jars), and a change in the overall nature of feasts (religious aspects are central). Although evidence for feasting events in northern Greece is minimal, it is possible to see patterns in the ceramic assemblages of prominent settlement sites such as Thessaloniki Toumba and Kastanas that indicate changes to feasting habits and the value of wine. These changes remained consistent throughout the Early Iron Age, from about 1000 to 750 BCE, allowing the period to be treated as a whole (Fox 2012, 67).

Changes to Feasting Contexts Feasting in “Leaders’ Dwellings”. A principal feature of commensal events that seems to have remained constant from the Postpalatial era is the location of sociopolitical commensality within the largest dwelling of a settlement. Locations that have the strongest evidence for feasting events are often termed “rulers’ or leaders’ dwellings” (Mazarakis-Ainian 1997) and tend to be centrally located buildings. These buildings also tend to be associated with ritual and storage elements/installations, implying religious and economic superiority within the sociopolitical realm. The designation of these buildings as houses for community leaders is based primarily on the presence of objects considered “domestic” in nature, such as loom weights and cooking installations. Based on ethnographic analyses of chiefdom societies, however, central buildings are not necessarily the homes of chiefs, but more akin to community centers over which the chiefs have authority (Metcalf 2010, 317–318). Within these buildings, “domestic” activities, such as weaving and cooking, could indeed take place, especially if the products of these activities were intended for communal events or consumption. The difference between the designation of large central buildings as leaders’ dwellings versus a leader’s community hall is that once that leader has moved on one way or another, the building is passed down to the next person in line. Of course, these two designations are not mutually exclusive. One only has to think of the White House and its use as both a residence for the President of the United States and his main offices and meeting rooms. Semantics aside, it is clear that in central and southern Greece, at least, evidence for feasting exchanges requiring surplus oil and wine comes from these leaders’ dwellings. Examples span the Protogeometric to Late Geometric periods (tenth to eighth centuries BCE) and include Unit IV-1 at Nichoria (EPG-EG), Megaron B at Thermon (MG), the Toumba building at Lefkandi (MPG), Building A at Mitrou (PG), the apsidal building at Asine (MPG-LG), Unit IV-5 at Nichoria (MG), and the apsidal building at Xeropolis-Lefkandi (LG). Nichoria’s Unit IV-1 provides some of the best evidence for feasting

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including large amounts of pottery and animal bones covering the floor throughout the use of the building (around 200 years; McDonald et al. 1983, 26, 39; Figure 5.1). Furthermore, the pottery was dominated by skyphoi, indicating an emphasis on drinking rituals (Fagerström 1988a, 34, 128; 1988b, 39). Megaron B at Thermon in Aetolia was constructed during the LH IIIC period and was in use until the later ninth century. Unlike most of the other leaders’ dwellings, it was rectangular in plan. Evidence for feasting there takes

(a)

(b)

5.1 Plan of (a) Nichoria, Unit IV-1. McDonald et al. 1983, 36, fig. 2-22 and (b) Nichoria, Unit IV-5. McDonald et al. 1983, 49, fig. 2-27. Images reproduced courtesy of University of Minnesota Press

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the form of ashes, bones, and sherds deposited on a paved area in front of the building (Mazarakis-Ainian 1997, 125–135; Papapostolou 2011). The only leaders’ dwelling larger than Thermon with evidence for feasting is the burial known as the Heroön at Lefkandi. Despite arguments over whether the large apsidal building found in the Toumba cemetery at Lefkandi on Euboea was originally intended as a leader’s dwelling or just an elaborate mortuary monument, feasting events were certainly one clear aspect of the activity that took place there (Popham et al. 1980; Popham and Lemos 1996; Morris 1999, 228–239; Antonaccio 2002; Whitely 2002; Lemos and Mitchell 2011). Large amounts of drinking wares, including many elaborate kraters, were found inside the fill covering the collapsed building (Lemos 2002, 203). Farther up the coast at Mitrou, an apsidal building (Building A) was constructed in the early Protogeometric period on top of its LH IIIC predecessor (Building B), while the surrounding settlement changed dramatically in plan. Within this large central building remnants of commensal events were found, including pedestalled cups, deep bowls, skyphoi, jugs, kraters, and pithoi. Fragments of five large kraters suggest that feasting took place on a suprahousehold scale (Van de Moortel and Zahou 2011, 336). Around the same time at Asine in the Argolid, an apsidal building around the same size as Unit IV-1 at Nichoria was constructed. Despite the few finds recovered, evidence for feasting included pithos fragments in the apse area and sherds from drinking and pouring vessels (skyphoi, oinochoai) in the central area (Fagerström 1988a, 127). In the following Geometric period, two examples of leaders’ dwellings with some evidence for commensal events have been found. It is clear, however, that by this time in the Early Iron Age, preferences and strategies once again began to shift. After the destruction of Unit IV-1 at Nichoria, Unit IV-5 was constructed in its place following the same plan and included a large courtyard (Figure 5.1; McDonald et al. 1983, 51). While there is no direct evidence for feasting within the building, there are large concentrations of course-ware pottery and storage containers within the building and outside. An apsidal building at Xeropolis-Lefkandi does, however, show continuity in hosting commensal events into the Geometric period. Although it has a shorter lifespan than most other buildings discussed thus far, there is direct evidence for feasting, including pithoi in the apse area and commensal equipment in the main area, such as skyphoi, mugs, kotylai, two kraters, and an oinochoe (Popham et al. 1980, 14). A trend that is perhaps visible within the examples presented here is the gradual reduction in scale, frequency, and control over commensal events throughout the Early Iron Age. By the eighth century, it seems that feasts took place on a smaller scale within the remaining “leaders’ dwellings.” In addition, there appears to be an emphasis on storage, exemplified by the

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excessive numbers of pithoi and storage pits found at Nichoria Unit IV-5 (McDonald et al. 1983, 53), the apsidal building at Asine (Fagerström 1988a, 137), and the apsidal building at Xeropolis-Lefkandi (Popham et al. 1980, 24–25). At the same time, what we see during the Early Iron Age is the simultaneous increase in large-scale commensal events taking place at regional locations, particularly sanctuaries. Feasting at Regional Sanctuaries. As mentioned at the outset of this chapter, one of the major new features of the Early Iron Age is the development and articulation of regional sanctuaries. Even sanctuaries that would later become famous Panhellenic sites, such as Olympia and Isthmia, received their initial success after the collapse of the Mycenaean palaces. This success then continued to increase as regional sanctuaries were used as common meeting grounds for elites from multiple settlements. Some of the earliest evidence for the use of these sanctuaries is not a built temple, but the remains of successive large-scale feasting events. One of the best examples of feasting at a regional sanctuary comes from Kalapodi. Recently interpreted as the sanctuary of the oracle of Apollo at Abai (Niemeier 2008), there is evidence that cultic activities began on the site during the Late Bronze Age and took the form of open-air rituals. Feasting events are attested from the LH IIIC period throughout the Early Iron Age, the evidence for which includes animal remains and the discovery of mainly bowls, cups, and cooking pots (Morgan 1996; Livieratou 2011). In addition, a well-preserved Late Protogeometric krater was found in situ on the floor of the Protogeometric temple (Lemos 2014, 168, fig. 3). The pottery found there shares similarities to pottery from Euboea, east Lokris, Thessaly, and east Attica, suggesting that the people meeting there for commensal events came from these regions (Lemos 2002, 221). Interestingly, in the earliest phases, the vessels used were primarily monochrome, which would have produced a homogenizing effect (Morgan 1999, 382; Fox 2012, 93). It has been suggested that the large number of pithoi and vessels for storing and cooking implies that the early character of the site was connected with agricultural and pastoral festivals where exchange of goods, beliefs, and ideas was taking place, at the same time that cultural links were maintained through communal sacrifices and feasting (Lemos 2002, 221). Similar evidence for commensal events comes from the earliest levels at the sanctuary of Poseidon at Isthmia. A redeposited assemblage of cups and skyphoi mixed with burnt animal bones and ash indicates ritual eating and drinking took place there during the Early Iron Age. Located near a major communication route connecting the Peloponnese with central Greece, Isthmia presented an opportune place for communal dining activities (Morgan 1994, 113; 1998, 77; 1999, 305). Evidence suggests that no serious attempt was made to divide

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social groupings during these feasts or to place significant investment into differentiated dining equipment before the eighth century. In the sanctuary’s earliest phases, vessels used were standardized in form, suggesting that, like Kalapodi, attendees at the feasts were not diacritically distinguished through the equipment, at least (Morgan 1999, 382). At Olympia, evidence for cultic activity starts in the second half of the eleventh century primarily in the form of votive dedications (Morgan 1990, 29; Lemos 2002, 194). Throughout the Early Iron Age dedications became more elaborate and always included tripod-cauldrons. This large, valuable feasting vessel symbolically referenced the owner’s or dedicator’s ability to host such feasts, thus embodying the power to acquire food and labor (Fox 2012, 93). Within the Early Iron Age cultic area, evidence for feasting includes many ceramic vessels predominated by small open shapes such as cups, kantharoi, and skyphoi. Larger shapes necessary for wine drinking, such as kraters and pouring vessels, have also been found. The primary location for commensal events and sacrifices would have been the area around the later Altis where an Early Iron Age altar was found along with many animal bones in a black stratum around the later Pelopion. Unlike Kalapodi and Isthmia, the events at Olympia seem to have emphasized competition among elites instead of cohesion and communal integrity. In both cases, however, the consumption of a large amount of wine was certainly a highlight of the event. Smaller sanctuaries with evidence for Early Iron Age feasting events include Mt. Hymettos in Attica, Apollo Daphnephoros at Eretria, and the “sacred house” of the Academy in Athens. The small sanctuary on Mt. Hymettos began in the Protogeometric period and seems to have hosted smaller-scale feasts. Pottery found there is simple and of inferior quality perhaps suggesting it was intended for lower-class people or that emphasis was placed on communality and the experience of feasting and worshiping together (Morgan 1990, 28–29 contra Langdon 1997, 120–121). Pottery is predominated by wine drinking equipment including oinochoai, skyphoi, and other types of cups. The sanctuary of Apollo Daphnephoros dates to the Middle Geometric II period and, at that point, consisted of a bothros-type alter and hearth. Unlike Hymettos, pottery found there is of high quality and is associated with burnt animal bones. Finally, the Late Geometric “sacred house” of the Academy in Athens has been variously interpreted as a cult place or house within a later cemetery (Mazarakis-Ainian and Alexandridou 2011, 167). Just outside the structure, however, are the remains of a large deposit of ca. 200 complete kantharoi and cups dated to the Early Geometric period. Their context is not entirely clear, but it is possible that they accumulated over time, pointing to recurrent visits at this site where a certain activity related to ritual drinking regularly took place.

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In northern Greece, evidence for commensal events at an extra-urban sanctuary might be present at Poseidi near Mende in the Chalkidike. Interpreted as the later Sanctuary of Poseidon Pontios, it consisted of four cult buildings (Vokotopoulou 1990; Tiverios 2008, 14–15). The earliest cult activities are attested from the beginning of the first millennium BCE, seemingly already from the eleventh century, if not earlier (Mazarakis-Ainian 2012, 57). A substantial apsidal cult building (ΣΤ) was constructed in the Protogeometric period where evidence for eating, drinking, and sacrificial rituals has been found. The interior of the building had a clay floor within which were placed pits containing the remains from burnt sacrifices. In the center of the structure was a circular heap of ashes and burnt matter, over one meter high, commonly interpreted as an ash altar. Cult activities were taking place here already in the Sub-Mycenaean period as attested by numerous ashes, burnt fat earth, calcinated bones of small and large animals, seashells, and broken vases. At this point, however, it is not entirely clear whether this apsidal structure was enclosed (Mazarakis-Ainian 1997, 43). Earlier and later pottery found there displays links with Thessaly and Euboea. The designation of this sanctuary as evidence for north Aegean regional feasting is complicated since it has been used to argue for the presence of southern Greeks. Mazarakis-Ainian (2012, 57) speculates that this sanctuary was originally dedicated to Poseidon and represents the early date of southern Greek or Euboean presence in the north Aegean. It is therefore not clear whether a tradition of feasting within regional or extra-urban sanctuaries existed within the “indigenous” culture of northern Greece. The pattern visible for feasting at sanctuaries in the Early Iron Age is one of gradual embellishment and increasing scale of events. Although some sanctuaries seem to have promoted unity while others emphasized competition, all sanctuaries not only continued to be used throughout the Early Iron Age, but also formalized feasting spaces by constructing built platforms and temples. Dependency on wine for social feasting occasions was therefore merged with dependency on wine for ritual events. It is clear from our earliest recorded texts that libation rituals necessitating wine were already an established practice, suggesting their roots within the Early Iron Age, at the latest. Overall, then, changes to feasting locations from the Late Bronze Age to the Early Iron Age suggest an emphasis on a central authority’s ability to acquire large amounts of oil and wine, whether that central authority was the leader of a settlement or a regional sanctuary. Without these surpluses of oil and wine, commensal events would not function as conveyors of religious and social power.

Feasting Equipment: Emphasis on Individualization Like the emphasis placed on central buildings as locations for feasts, the predominant shapes used for oil and wine consumption carried over from the

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Postpalatial era. In southern and central Greece, kraters were still the most highly decorated vessels and the most necessary piece of equipment for mixing wine with water and other ingredients. Kraters also seem to have retained their elite character, as they are often found in contexts associated with elite dining, such as the fill of the Toumba at Lefkandi. Lemos (2002, 203) suggests that the large number of kraters found there demonstrates its importance in Protogeometric households. Various forms of bowls and cups generally make up the bulk of equipment used in commensal events. Specifically, during the Protogeometric period skyphoi and deep bowls are predominant. In an interesting proposition, Fox (2012, 136) postulates that the deep bowl, because of its larger capacity, might have performed a more communal function, perhaps akin to a small krater. In addition, the morphology of the deep bowl provides space for decoration and the capacity to dip smaller cups inside. Thus, deep bowls might have functioned as a means toward emulating the elite use of kraters within commensal contexts as these practices became more popular in LH IIIC, spreading to lower echelons of the social hierarchy (Fox 2012, 137). The Early Iron Age might therefore have been a time of “democratization” of drinking activities, especially toward the end of the period when wine production seems to have been more accessible. While the abovementioned statement might apply to lower-class individuals, it is nevertheless clear that elites continued to distinguish themselves from the others through allusions to feasting and, specifically, surplus wine consumption and control. Through feasting equipment, this is perhaps best demonstrated by the ever-increasing size of kraters and amphoras during the Early Iron Age, to the point of non-functionality. Starting in the Middle Protogeometric period, certain pots have been found that suggest they must have been created for symbolic purposes. For example, an Attic Middle Protogeometric amphora imported to Lefkandi is 83 cm high (Figure 5.2; Catling and Lemos 1990, pl. 80) and a Euboean Middle Protogeometric krater, also found at Lefkandi, is 80 cm high (Catling and Lemos 1990, pl. 54). Both vessels would have been impractical to move once full, and instead highlight the prestige of the donor and receiver. This is especially evident considering the elite mortuary context of these vessels. The emphasis on size of wine-related vessels reaches its height in the Late Geometric period, when pots were created that were taller than an average person. Examples include amphoras of the Dipylon Gate (e.g., Dipylon Master, Athens 804, H. 1.55 m) and the Middle Geometric I kraters at the Kerameikos (Kerameikos 1254, from grave 43, H.c. 1.0 m; Kübler 1954, pl. 22). Coldstream (2011) suggests that the enlarged size of wine-containing pots such as kraters and amphoras show the value and status of wine. In terms of the vessels used for drinking, the Early Iron Age marks the point at which the kylix was fully discontinued in central Greece and parts of the Peloponnese. In its place, the skyphos was preferred (Figure 5.3). It is

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5.2 Imported Attic MPG belly-handled amphora from Lefkandi no. 898. H. 83 cm. Catling and Lemos 1990, pl. 80. Reproduced with permission of the British School at Athens

5.3 Skyphos from Lefkandi, Skoubris tomb 33. After Desborough 1972, 198, pl. 45. Image by author

interesting to note, however, that the kylix was not entirely abandoned everywhere. In western Greek areas, such as Messenia, Achaia, Aetolia, Elis, and Ithaca, the kylix was retained and there seems to have been a reluctance to adopt Protogeometric styles (Lemos 2002, 195). This is

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a good example of the regional character of Early Iron Age Greece and the ability of individual sites or groups of sites to create their own styles without the influence of an overarching authority, even if that style includes a decision to retain the markers of the former authority. Everywhere else, the skyphos was produced in large quantities. Whereas plain kylikes were used to reduce guests to one or two tiers of status in the Bronze Age palaces (e.g., Pylos), skyphoi presented the possibility for individuality. Through the use of skyphoi, finer nuances of status could be portrayed and delineated. Size and elaboration of decoration could play a role in differentiating guests. In this way, Early Iron Age commensal events provided the opportunity for more nuanced displays of status, as opposed to the rigid delineations of palatial feasts (Fox 2012, 137). Of course, people living during the Early Iron Age would not have any direct memory of Bronze Age palatial feasts, but the sentiment remains true. The variation seen in skyphoi and deep bowls was a product of the sociocultural milieu of the Early Iron Age and the constant vying for power endemic to the type of hierarchies established after the palatial collapse. After all, feasts are inherently agonistic, often symbols of instability within a society, where the display of power and prestige is paramount (Dietler 1996, 2001). Similar sentiments seem to have been at play in the north. Although little information is known about actual feasting locations, changes in eating and drinking equipment over time can indicate changes in feasting practices and social attitudes toward commensal events. The best evidence for these changes comes from the large settlements at Thessaloniki Toumba and Kastanas. Evidence for feasting at Thessaloniki Toumba comes from the patterns of pottery consumption and the introduction of new types of tablewares associated with the consumption of wine (Figure 5.4). In order to fully appreciate the changes taking place in the Early Iron Age, it is necessary to review briefly the broader trajectory of feasting equipment at this site. In the Middle Bronze Age (Phases XIV–IX), tablewares were predominantly homogenous, composed of local handmade undecorated and burnished wares with an emphasis on cups and bowls. In the earlier part of the Late Bronze Age (Phases VIII–VI), however, the introduction, in very limited numbers, of two new types of decorated tablewares, matt-painted and incised, indicates a change in commensal habits and values. Both types seem to be associated with the storage of small amounts of liquids (incised) and the consumption of liquids (mattpainted). At the same time, the settlement itself underwent reorganization and there is evidence for a more structured hierarchy and bureaucracy symbolized by the discovery of a small number of clay stamp-seals (Andreou and Psaraki 2007, 407). The presence of these new tablewares combined with the social restructuring might indicate the rise of a new drinking etiquette performed at some special festive occasions where a special liquid, presumably wine, was consumed.9

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5.4 Frequency of decorated ceramics per 100 m3 at Toumba Thessaloniki by phase. After Andreou 2003, 210, fig. 11. Image by author

This diacritical separation between a small number of decorated wares and the majority of traditional local wares continued into the later part of the Late Bronze Age. At this point, we see the introduction, first in small amounts, then increasingly more, of Mycenaean-style wheel-made pottery. At the same time, the amount of incised ware decreased and the amount of matt-painted wares more than doubled (Andreou and Psaraki 2007, 413). The increased presence of matt-painted ware and its features signify a wider acceptance and more frequent performance of the festive practices introduced in the previous era. Despite their increase from the previous phase, however, matt-painted wares were still a very small percentage of the assemblage and seem to have been produced by a small number of potters who supplied their luxurious and specialized products to several settlements in a wider region. The idiosyncrasies and unique attributes of each matt-painted vessel suggest that they were perhaps connected to the identity of the owner and their elite status. At the same time, Mycenaean vessels were imported in small numbers, then quickly imitated as their status increased. Most of the Mycenaean-style pottery produced in northern Greece can be characterized as special serving sets for the consumption of wine in festive occasions that highlighted drinking (Andreou and Psaraki 2007, 416). Specifically, the demand for luxury vessels for wine consumption by the local communities determined the adoption of only a select number of decorated shapes including deep bowls, cups, kraters, jugs, and amphoras (Andreou 2003). What these adopted styles suggest is that during

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the Late Bronze Age, the act of wine drinking during feasts became formalized and was used as a method of power differentiation. Wine itself had been produced in that region for millennia (Valamoti 1998). By the end of the Bronze Age and the beginning of the Early Iron Age in northern Greece, Mycenaean style tablewares had almost entirely replaced the once popular matt-painted vessels (Figure 5.4). The later part of the Late Bronze Age (Phase IV) at Thessaloniki Toumba, equivalent to the LH IIIC period in the south, is characterized by large compounds constructed on the top of the mound and by an imposing casemated enclosure wall built around the slopes. Interestingly, Mycenaean-style vessels have been recovered from all excavated houses of Phase IV at Thessaloniki Toumba, although they make up only around 5.5 percent of the ceramic assemblage (Andreou 2003). This may indicate that the symbolic meaning of feasts and ceremonial drinking had been once again reinterpreted toward integration of households and the creation of larger and stronger community groups (Andreou and Psaraki 2007, 417). The sudden rise in Mycenaean-style pottery during the phase (II) equivalent to the Protogeometric period in the south suggests the intensification of feasting occasions (Figure 5.4). Specifically, small open and large closed shapes predominate the assemblage of wheel-made pottery, more than doubling the overall number of Mycenaean-style pottery found compared to the last two Late Bronze Age phases. More than 130 small open and around 100 large closed shapes have been identified from Phase II (PG) compared to just over 30 small open and 20 large closed shapes during Phase III (Andreou 2003, fig. 2). These numbers coincide with the import and local production of common southern Greek Protogeometric shapes such as deep bowls, amphoras, and skyphoi. Interestingly, the krater is not produced in large numbers at Thessaloniki Toumba, although it is attested more often at nearby Kastanas. This differentiated adoption suggests individualized demands and practices associated with drinking. As discussed for the southern Greek regions, kraters were the main vessel for drinking occasions and were exponentially adopted during the Postpalatial era, though relatively rare before. These patterns might suggest that in some regions of northern Greece, the local populations retained some of their own drinking practices instead of entirely accepting the practices associated with drinking equipment from the south. When it comes to the absence of kraters, it is tempting to interpret this act as the refusal to mix wine with water, a feature of later Macedonian practices that was often chided by southern Greeks.10 These differential adoption strategies once again highlight the regionalism that is characteristic of Early Iron Age Greece in general. Despite scholarly focus on their presence, it is nevertheless the case that these wheel-made vessels make up only a small percentage of the overall pottery assemblages recovered from Early Iron Age sites in the north. This perspective suggests the continuity

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of specialized, regional value attached to commensal activities and specifically wine drinking.

Change in the Nature of Feasts: Religious Aspects The evidence for large-scale feasts requiring surplus oil and wine in the Early Iron Age suggests that the overall nature of feasts changed from the Late Bronze Age. Specifically, we can see the accentuation of religious aspects of the feast, both within leaders’ dwellings and within the context of regional sanctuaries. While the religious nature of commensal events at sanctuaries is relatively obvious, leaders’ dwellings present a few internal and external features that suggest the feasts taking place there were also associated with religious rituals. Indeed, most leaders’ dwellings, especially those used in the beginning of the Early Iron Age, included built circular platforms (Nichoria Unit IV-1; Fox 2012, 69), altars (apsidal building at Asine; Wells 1983, 34; Mazarakis-Ainian 1997, 297; Lemos 2002, 221), or bothroi/ritual pits (Megaron B at Thermon; Mazarakis-Ainian 1997, 133). These installations suggest leaders’ concerns with controlling not only sociopolitical practices, but also religious practices. In these situations, the leaders of communities would increase their power through the practice of religious ceremonies that seem to have also retained a commensal component.11 The cultic nature of the leaders’ dwelling has been thoroughly examined by Mazarakis-Ainian (1997), who suggests that throughout the Early Iron Age the ritual functions that took place within the leaders’ dwelling gradually shifted toward the establishment of urban temples as sociopolitical hierarchies changed. By the eighth century BCE, there does not appear to be any direct evidence for the performance of religious rituals within leaders’ dwellings. Neither Nichoria Unit IV-5 nor Xeropolis house contained ritual elements in the form of debris or purpose-built installations. Instead, it seems that leaders’ economic superiority was emphasized through the use of storage pithoi and granaries. At the same time, the first temples were constructed in the eighth century for both urban and extra-urban use. There, large-scale feasts were held and religious ceremonies took place in a “neutral” location. Of course, competition was certainly a large part of these festivities, as elites competed through consumption of prestigious and valuable commodities like various types and qualities of oils and wines. One final aspect of Early Iron Age feasting practices that highlights the ritual character of commensal events is the resurrection of the funerary feast after an apparently widespread hiatus in the Postpalatial era. The funeral feast was a practice with a long history and would continue to play an integral role in the experience of death throughout the Archaic and Classical eras. The funerary feast presented an opportunity to enact social hierarchies, but may also have had

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a connection to maintaining ritual behavior as a cultural identifier (Fox 2012, 79). For our purposes here, it is especially important that these ritual behaviors included, at their heart, the consumption of wine and the use of oils. Evidence for funerary feasts take the form of ceramics associated specifically with wine, such as kraters, cups, and pouring vessels (e.g., fill around Lefkandi tombs, Popham et al. 1980, 215; Agora GR. XXVII, Blegen 1952, 280; Argos tombs 89, 90, 163, Courbin 1974, 129). If the funerary feast was in fact a cultural identifier, then oil and wine were very much caught up in that expression of cultural identity.

Feasting Conclusion The evidence presented in this section suggests that feasting retained a prominent position within exchange modes during the Early Iron Age. Ceramic and archaeobotanical data show that surplus oil and wine were essential features of these exchanges. In addition, the shift toward feasts as part of religious rituals both within settlement contexts and extra-urban sanctuaries probably increased the dependency between people, oil, and wine as they became necessary components of proper ritual activities. Despite these continuities, however, it is clear that the overall scale of feasting events decreased, especially when compared to the palatial era. The total number of vessels recovered from feasting sites makes apparent the more intimate nature of commensal events in the Early Iron Age. This smaller scale of events is perhaps due to an overall restriction to elite-only participation. Or, perhaps the smaller scale of feasts is a direct result of decreased settlement occupation and the dispersal of settlements over a wider area of the landscape. In either case, the accumulation and control of surplus oil and wine seems to have been a central concern of leaders within a settlement, as demonstrated by the presence of storage facilities in or around many leaders’ dwellings. This scenario applies mainly to southern and central Greece, whereas in northern Greece, the currently available evidence points to a more distributed form of storage where each household retained its own supplies of surplus goods (Margomenou 2005). It seems clear, however, that these surplus goods included much wine and were still used for exchange during large-scale feasting events (Andreou 2003). Of course, this northern strategy seems to eventually apply to the south as well, when leaders’ dwellings go out of use and the creation of relatively independent oikoi occurs toward the end of the Early Iron Age (Mazarakis-Ainian 1997, 2001, 2007, 2012). GIFT EXCHANGE: FUNERARY OFFERINGS

Oil and wine continued to be necessary components of gift exchange in the Early Iron Age. The best evidence available for Early Iron Age practices using

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surplus oil and wine for non-commensal gift exchange remains funerary offerings. Distinct from funerary feasts, it is clear that vessels intended specifically for offerings to the dead continued to be deposited within tombs. Among these offerings, some general trends can be observed, though regional practices must always be taken into consideration. General changes in funerary offerings involving oil and wine include: the discontinuation of small decorated stirrup jars; the invention of new shapes, such as the lekythos, to replace stirrup jars; and the offering of large closed vessels, such as hydrias and amphoras, most likely containing oil or wine. Dramatic changes to funerary practices that had begun in the Postpalatial era came to full fruition during the Early Iron Age. The introduction of cremation and the widespread shift to single burials are often cited as the most prominent changes. The reasons behind these changes are unknown and quite contentious among scholars (see, among others, Snodgrass 1977; Mee and Cavanagh 1984, 49–64; Morris 1987; Lemos 2002, 184–186). It is becoming increasingly clear, however, that diversity in burial practices is the true characteristic of Early Iron Age cemeteries, in contrast to an all-encompassing shift. Indeed, many regions, such as Thessaly and Crete, retained the practice of multiple burials, while other regions had practiced burials in cist tombs throughout the Late Bronze Age (Dickinson 1983, 55–67). The general uniformity in burial practices, as observed for the Mycenaean palatial era, was abandoned in favor of regional and even local preferences as multiple types of burials could occur within the same cemetery (Lemos 2002, 151–190; Dickinson 2006, 183–195). Perhaps this diversity signifies growing individual or group agency and the ability to act upon one’s own wishes after the collapse of the palaces (Dickinson 2009, 16). The adoption of new funerary practices, however, does not seem to have affected the types of offerings given to the deceased. Indeed, all varieties of tomb-types – cremations, cist tombs, chamber tombs – appear to contain very similar vessels and, in certain cases, weapons, jewelry, and imports. In addition, the practice of funerary libations may have persisted. At Torone on the Chalkidike, for example, two fragmentary kantharoi (T10-1, T10-1a) were found level with the cover slabs of Inhumation Tomb 10. These perhaps represent a farewell toast to the dead (Papadopoulos 2005, 385). The most commonly deposited vessels within tombs of the Early Iron Age are small containers associated with oils and unguents, including the lekythos, amphoriskos, pyxis, and kalathos. Despite its extreme prominence during the Postpalatial era, the stirrup jar was entirely abandoned at the beginning of the Early Iron Age. In its place, the lekythos was created and continued to be associated purely with funerary contexts into the Classical era (Figure 5.5; Mountjoy 1986, 199; Stubbings 1947, 24). Lekythoi are found in tombs all over central Greece and Euboea but were especially popular in Attica (Lemos 2002, 72–74). Most burials in Athens, at least, were provided with between one and

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5.5 MPG Attic lekythos from Grave I-Grotta 1971, Naxos Museum Inv. no. 6393. Image by author

four vases, but during the Early Protogeometric and Late Protogeometric eras some burials received many vessels with the redundancy of lekythoi being especially prominent (e.g., Kerameikos grave PG A with seventeen vases, mostly lekythoi; Krause 1975, table 17.19). Amphoriskoi, on the other hand, were particularly popular in the northwest Aegean region (Euboea, Boeotia, Phokis, east Lokris, and Thessaly) and are found in great numbers at the cemetery of Lefkandi on Euboea. Interestingly, they are not found in Athens after the initial stage of the Protogeometric period. They are, however, common in the Argolid, although with their own local shape and decoration (Lemos 2002, 216). Except for a few tombs of either richness (no more than a dozen vases) or completely without grave goods, the grave gifts of the Protogeometric Argolid were relatively standardized. Specifically, Hägg (1983, 28) noticed the regularity in expenditure: two pots, a cup and a jug, form a sort of “standard set.” This standard set highlights the importance of (wine) drinking to both the living and the dead. Moreover, the preference between lekythoi and amphoriskoi highlights regional preferences and points to group cohesion. Small closed containers like lekythoi and amphoriskoi certainly held various forms of scented oils and wines. Anointment of the body and the use of perfumed oils within funerary rituals seem to have been a practice that continued from the Late Bronze Age through the Early Iron Age (Eder 2006, 556).

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The relatively large number of small oil-containing vessels found in tombs at Lefkandi and Athens might indicate a regional specialization in the production of these oils (Crielaard 2011, 97). It seems plausible that the location of the production of containers should not be too far from the location of the manufacture of the contents. Despite our lack of knowledge about the location and social context of perfumed oil production, it is clear that production of surplus for its exchange, especially as funerary gifts, continued throughout the Early Iron Age. Refined or perfumed oils were labor-intensive products that seem to have retained their high ritual and social value. Indeed, they appear to be consumed in contexts very similar to those before the palatial collapse, but perhaps on a much smaller scale. The second common trend visible throughout the Early Iron Age and in most areas of Greece, but especially northwest Greece, is the use of large closed ceramic shapes for funerary gifts. Large containers, such as hydrias and amphoras, were not often found within tombs during the Postpalatial era. At the beginning of the Early Iron Age, however, we see more elaborate funerary offerings, which often include larger amounts of surplus commodities contained in large pots. These pots would have otherwise been used for storage or transport of surplus within the realm of the living. That these vessels were full at the time of deposition is relatively clear. Many Athenian graves contained storage vessels that had been stoppered (or plugged) in a way that suggests they were filled with food products (e.g., Kerameikos grave PG 38, 40, 43, 44; Kübler 1954, 24). Indeed, by the Archaic period gifts of food to the dead were so common that installations were created to accommodate the practice. Called “Opferrinne” by the original excavators, offering trenches were created where ceramics were dedicated and food was placed for the deceased (e.g., Andronikos 1968, 84–85, 90; Kurtz and Boardman 1971, 40, 66; Whitley 1994, 217; Deoudi 1999, 42–43; Lemos 2002, 156). Hydrias, which, as we said in Chapter 4, could be used within a local exchange role, were also found as grave offerings during the Early Iron Age. Specifically, in the Protogeometric period, hydrias were produced in a larger and smaller size. The smaller size, around 20 cm high, was almost always used for grave offerings and was frequently found in the tombs at Lefkandi (Lemos 2002, 66). Hydrias with similar decoration to those found at Lefkandi have also been found in tombs on Skyros and in Thessaly. For example, one vase from Kapakli in Volos has a zigzag on the belly drawn with a multiple brush in a manner very similar to a vase from Lefkandi (Lemos 2002, 66). These similarities might suggest a small-scale regional trade in the contents of small hydrias. As they are associated primarily with grave offerings, perhaps they contained a type of perfumed oil or wine made especially for funerary gifts. The use of amphoras for funerary gifts, as opposed to cinerary urns, is best attested in regions of the northwest Aegean. Although neck and belly-handled

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amphoras are best known as containers for cremated remains, especially in Athens, they also seem to have performed a function similar to the hydrias discussed earlier. Specifically, neck-handled amphoras of a particular type are sometimes found in graves in Euboea, east Lokris, Phokis, Thessaly, and Macedonia, and are placed among the funerary gifts of the deceased. This type of amphora, often termed “North Aegean,” is a strong indication that they contained liquid commodities, either oil or wine, as they are most commonly used for commercial exchange of surplus and are more often found in settlement contexts, to which we will return shortly. The use of North Aegean amphoras as gifts to the deceased throughout the Early Iron Age is indicative of the value of their contents. The cemeteries where these pots are found are large and characterized by a high amount of relative wealth. In particular, we may highlight the presence of North Aegean amphoras within tombs at the cemetery of Elateia (e.g., Tomb LXXXVII; Deger-Jalkotzy 1999, 199). There, chamber tombs had been used for multiple generations, extending into the Late Bronze Age (Deger-Jalkotzy 1999). Many burials contained precious metal objects and heirloom pieces, including imports (Deger-Jalkotzy 1999). North Aegean amphoras have also been recovered from the cemetery at Lefkandi (Catling 1996). In the north, North Aegean amphoras have been found as grave gifts at many cemeteries, including Torone, Marmariani, and Mende (Pratt 2014, 190–198). Like hydrias, North Aegean amphoras belonging to the later stages of the Early Iron Age were produced in two sizes, with the smaller size more frequently associated with funerary contexts and used as gifts to the dead (Catling 1998, 153; Papadopoulos 2005, 426–430). The use of North Aegean amphoras as gifts within burial contexts, especially elite burials, demonstrates their restricted availability as a high-value item. The high value placed on North Aegean amphoras during the early/middle Protogeometric period is further demonstrated by an example found at the Toumba cemetery at Lefkandi, pyre 11/12 (Figure 5.6). The pot, already demarcated as a status item by its association with this tomb, was actually an antique at the time of its deposition and had been repaired using lead clamps. Coupled with signs of wear on the interior surface, it is clear that this amphora had been used and its contents consumed prior to its reuse as a burial object (Catling 1996, 126). Its importance as an object in itself (and not just the contents) is demonstrated by its repair (and therefore not suitable for storing liquids) and subsequent reuse and deposition. It seems, therefore, that early North Aegean amphoras, at least, had a dual nature that lead to their use within two modes of exchange. The first was its value as an imported object symbolizing surplus wealth and, consequently, given as funerary gifts. The second was its value as a utilitarian vessel that was used for the commercial exchange of surplus oil or wine.

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(a)

(b)

5.6 Upper half of an early North Aegean amphora found at Lefkandi Pyre 11/12 with (a) three notches on edge of left handle and lead repair clamps and (b) incised mark on top of left handle. Catling 1996, pl. 43. Reproduced with permission by BAR Publishing

COMMERCIAL EXCHANGE: SPECIALIZED AMPHORAS AND INTERREGIONAL NETWORKS

Commercial exchange, or trade, did not cease during the Early Iron Age. Over the last 30 years of excavation and study, a clearer picture of life after the palatial collapse and before the rise of the polis has significantly brightened an age that traditionally has been considered exceedingly “Dark.” John Boardman perhaps put it best when he said, “A shared Dark Age does not mean that two-way traffic stopped, merely that it ceased to be archaeologically visible or culturally influential” (Boardman 2006, 515). Although evidence for writing in Greece is still lacking, other signs of communication have surfaced, including marks on pots and balance weights (Papadopoulos 1994; Kroll 2008). The number and contexts of imported objects has increased to the point where the argument

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solely for “heirlooms” can no longer persist. Instead, finds from Lefkandi and other Early Iron Age sites, especially within the northwest Aegean regions, show continued contact with non-Greek people (Murray 2012, 420–463). Furthermore, sites in Euboea and along coastal east Lokris and Phokis, such as Xeropolis (Davidson et al. 2010), Kynos (Dakoronia 1996, 161; 1999; Kounouklas 2009), and Mitrou (Van de Moortel and Zahou 2011), have produced evidence or likely scenarios for the existence of harbors (Demesticha and Pratt 2016). One of the main drivers for continued long-distance exchange was the demand for metals. Based on isotopic analyses of metal objects, it seems that the silver and copper mines at Lavrion continued to function after the palatial collapse.12 It is conceivable that these resources became more accessible to local populations, such as the residents at nearby Perati, who used the metals for their own purposes and perhaps also traded them regionally.13 This situation seems to persist into the Protogeometric period when bronze remained the most common metal deposited in burials (Murray 2012, table 4.15) despite the ubiquity of iron ore (Papadopoulos 2014, 181). However, the most important ingredient of bronze is tin, and tin had to be imported from distant locations like Iran, Afghanistan, or the British Isles (Gillis and Clayton 2008; Gillis and Clayton 2008). Arguments that Early Iron Age people relied solely on the recycling of old bronze to make new implements, thereby circumventing the necessity for new tin, have been overturned by scientific analyses indicating that the percentage of tin within Early Iron Age bronzes did not decrease overall (Jones 1980, 455–457; contra Snodgrass 1971). This is not to say that recycling did not happen, but rather imported tin was still available. The continued import of metals into Greece implies there were specific commodities traded in turn. Some scholars posit that Phoenicians would have been seeking slaves, iron, or silver from the Laurion mines (Mazarakis-Ainian 2006, 194; Stos-Gale and Gale 1982; Thompson, Balmuth, and Stos-Gale 2001).14 Other scholars suggest that agricultural products, including olive oil, were the main objective. Indeed, Euboea’s incredibly fertile Lelantine Plain was apparently the cause of a long-lasting war involving much of the region, although the exact chronology and details are debated (Descoeudres 2008, 317). In parallel, Phoenicia was suffering from a shortage of agricultural products for its growing population.15 Although situated in a fertile area of the Levantine coast, Tyre may have suffered from a deficit in foodstuffs from the tenth century onward due to population pressure (Aubet 1993, 56). Both contemporary and later textual sources refer to overpopulation and the need for agricultural commodities, such as grain and oil.16 The Phoenician search for agricultural supplies was not limited to Lefkandi and is even preserved in Homer’s Odyssey (Book 15: 402–483) when Eumaeus recalls Phoenician traders coming to Syros for foodstuff in exchange for keimelia during his

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childhood. In support of Greek agricultural products traveling to the Near East, Descoeudres (2008, 319), Courbin (1993, 109), and Boardman (2006, 514) each cite amphora fragments of Protogeometric date, now identified as North Aegean amphoras. Although based mainly on speculation, all three authors designate these amphoras for the transportation of olive oil. Although the demand for certain imports continued, other aspects of Late Bronze Age and Postpalatial trade did change. Contacts with Italy, for example, seem to have ceased entirely. In addition, the “economic geography” of Greece likely shifted, as the “center of gravity” of imports moved north and east during the Early Iron Age (Murray 2012, 371). Eventually, this center of gravity came to rest on what we have been calling the northwest Aegean region.

Old Wine in New Containers: the North Aegean Amphora Within these renewed and shifting exchange networks, is it possible to see the resurgence of trade in surplus oil and wine? The answer seems to be “yes.” Specifically, the Protogeometric period marks the point when a new type of specialized container is introduced into Aegean exchange networks. This container, the North Aegean amphora, seems to have been created for the express purpose of transporting liquid commodities within interregional exchange networks centered on the northwest Aegean and connected to broader north Aegean and western Anatolian locations. This type of amphora has been found throughout central Greece, Thessaly, Macedonia, many at Troy, sites along the Anatolian coast, a few sites in the Levant, and even Pithekoussai off the Italian coast. The very existence of North Aegean amphoras was unknown until Richard Catling published a large collection of these amphoras from excavations at Troy (Catling 1998, Lenz et al. 1998). While these vessels had been mentioned previously, they had never received the type of attention that generates greater awareness, and subsequent publication, of other examples around the Aegean (Hertel 2011). Over the past 15 years or so a sufficient number of North Aegean amphoras have come to light such that we have the ability to begin to discuss their production, distribution, and consumption (Papadopoulos 2005; Gimatzidis 2010; Kotsonas 2012,). That these amphoras held oil or wine seems plausible based on chemical analyses conducted on five later North Aegean amphoras from the site of Methone located in Pieria on the coast of the Thermaic Gulf. Residue analysis produced traces of beeswax and plant-based fatty acids, which are generally interpreted as sealing agents (Kiriatzi et al. 2013). These results seem to support the assumption that the contents of North Aegean amphoras were liquid-based. Most scholars agree that the specific contents would most likely have been olive oil and/or wine (Catling 1998; Gimatzidis 2010; Kotsonas 2012).

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It is clear that the North Aegean amphora was produced throughout the Early Iron Age. It is not clear, however, where it was produced and how exactly the shape changed over time. Three diachronic variations of the North Aegean amphora shape were outlined by Catling (1998): Group I, Transitional, and Group II. The chronology of the North Aegean amphora is, however, far from clear as none of the examples found within central Greece come from tightly sealed stratified contexts. Instead, much of Catling’s chronology is based on style, ultimately reliant on the Attic and Euboean styles. Consequently, there is probably much more overlap between these three types of North Aegean amphoras than the current linear typology suggests. In addition, the majority of information published since Catling’s typology was first introduced (1998) focuses mainly on the last, and most prevalent, Group II North Aegean amphoras (Gimatzidis 2010; Kotsonas 2012). In my view, the main issue of contention is the designation of “transitional” versions of the shape and whether they are later than the Group I type or are local variations coexisting with the Group I. The most recent chemical and microscopic analyses of North Aegean amphoras suggest the latter might indeed be the case, to which we will return shortly. Due to the controversial and problematic nature of North Aegean amphora chronology, especially during the first part of the Early Iron Age, I take a slightly different approach to their analysis. Here, I will refer to “early North Aegean amphoras” (Figure 5.7), encompassing both Group I and Transitional versions, while retaining the designation “Group II North Aegean amphora” (Figure 5.8). This binary division is helpful when trying to see long-term patterns in production and exchange. In addition, Group II amphoras are easily distinguished from their predecessors, as a significant shift in shape and manufacturing techniques occurred at that time. This change has resulted in not only their identification at far more excavations, but also in a more robust scholarly discussion. Despite the controversy over the relative chronology of North Aegean amphora types, it is certainly the case that the shape remains remarkably consistent over a long period of time, a fact that also hinders a neat classification. This consistency in technological and stylistic features (ridge at the base of the neck; double-ribbed strap handles, concentric circle decoration on shoulder) does support the argument that they are part of the same tradition throughout the Early Iron Age. Although very little concrete information is known about the exact origins of early North Aegean amphoras, some notion of production regions has been distinguished based on stylistic, macroscopic, and very limited chemical analyses (Map 5.2). For North Aegean amphoras found in Protogeometric and early Geometric contexts, suggested production locations include central Greece (East Lokris; Catling 1998, 162), Thessaly (Jacob-Felsch 1988, 198;

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5.7 Early North Aegean amphora from Troy. After Catling 1998, pl. 1:3. Image by author

5.8 Group II/late North Aegean amphora from Sindos. After Gimatzidis 2010, pl. 43 no. 361. Image by author

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Jones 1996, 199–120; Catling 1998, 159, 162), the Chalkidike (Mende and Torone; Papadopoulos 2005; Tiverios 2008; Mazarakis-Ainian 2011, 2012), Troy (Hertel 2003, 129; Aslan et al. 2014), Pergamon (Mommsen and Japp 2009; Schneider and Japp 2009; Japp 2009; Hertl 2011, 81), or Klazomenai (Aytaçlar 2004, 24). The most recent chemical analysis (NAA) of eleven samples of “Group I” amphoras from Troy suggests local production (Aslan et al. 2014). The term “local,” however, needs to be defined better with respect to the general region of northwest Anatolia. In addition, a few North Aegean amphoras found at Kastanas (Kat. Nr. 417, 419, fig. 34.343) have variations between each other, including a rim-handled version, that have lead Jung (2002, 178–179) to suggest separate, regional, production locations entirely distinct from the Trojan examples. Given these recent data, it seems that no clear geographical region stands out as the producer of early North Aegean amphoras. Instead, these amphoras are defined by their heterogeneity of production. Variation in manufacturing techniques but retention of stylistic characteristics might suggest an emphasis on regional production centers, as opposed to centralized or local strategies. These regions would share a common value and knowledge about the amphoras and their contents. The result would be very similar products produced in different locations that encode necessary information for consumers. In this case, the decoration and idiosyncratic features of early North Aegean amphoras might have signaled to the knowledgeable buyer/recipient the vessel’s content, quality, or general (but not specific) origin. The separation of Group II amphoras from the others is a less contentious issue. Group II North Aegean amphoras are remarkably standardized, appear only in the Middle Geometric and Late Geometric periods, and have a very distinctive body shape (Figure 5.8). The peak of its production, however, came in the middle of the eighth century BCE when the Group II amphoras reached their widest distribution. They differ from their Protogeometric counterparts in a number of ways. First, they seem to come in two “sizes.” The larger version is highly standardized with a height of about 60 cm and an estimated capacity of about 50 l. The height of the smaller version varies between 35 and 40 cm. Smaller amphoras tend to be decorated with cross-hatched triangles, whereas larger versions continue to be decorated with concentric circles or semi-circles, normally in sets of three (Gimatzidis 2010, 259). They too were produced according to a regional strategy, but their exact origins are more confined (Map 5.2). Petrographic and chemical analyses have confirmed Group II North Aegean amphora production locations at or near Sindos, Methone, Mende, and Troy (Aslan et al. 2014). This suggests that a more specific area, the Thermaic Gulf, was a primary producer of the shape (Kotsonas 2012, 155; Kiriatzi et al. 2013). Consequently, a move has been made to change the vessel’s name from “North Aegean amphora Group II” to

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map 5.2 Possible production locations for early North Aegean amphoras (red) and Group II/late North Aegean amphoras (blue). Image by author

“Thermaic Gulf amphora” (Kotsonas 2012). Based on available evidence, it seems that from the Protogeometric to the Geometric period, North Aegean amphora production locations coalesced to form a very solid regional character. A similar situation existed in the later Archaic and Classical eras when regional styles of amphoras were used in multiple locations to signal the specific type of contents within the containers – generally regional variations in wine (e.g., Mendaian amphoras; Papadopoulos and Paspalas 1999; Lawall 2004). The continuity in idiosyncratic features and overall decoration on the Group II amphoras does, however, suggest that the same knowledge and meaning ascribed to Protogeometric versions continued into the later part of the Iron Age. That these semiotics were conferred within a commercial context can be demonstrated by the presence of pot marks on most examples and their distribution pattern both within and beyond the Aegean.

Use of Pot Marks for Commercial Purposes? The presence of pot marks on North Aegean amphoras throughout the Early Iron Age, spanning over 300 years, demonstrates that these liquid containers were continually designated as transport containers involved in a multitiered commercial network. Based on the current available evidence it seems that over time, as the vessel itself became more standardized, pot marks became more prevalent. The increase in pot marks might be an indication of an increase in the complexity of oil and wine exchange and the various actors involved.

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Marks placed on pots, both before firing and after, can signal a number of meanings, none of which can ever be absolutely certain. Pot marks can signal the involvement of particular actors in the transport of goods, lending a commercial connotation to otherwise unmarked pots. Early Iron Age pot marks are more enigmatic due to their fewer numbers and inconsistency in both location and symbol. The most comprehensive examination of pot marks in the Early Iron Age came to the conclusion that they may have been used by the potters themselves to distinguish particular orders (Papadopoulos forthcoming, 1994). Evidence gathered over the last 15 years has added to the number of pot marks, as well as the repertoire of marked pots. Many early North Aegean amphoras were marked either before or after firing, demonstrating a degree of organization to the patterns and nature of commercial activity in oil and wine (Catling 1996, 130). Pot marks on North Aegean amphoras dated to the Protogeometric period have been found at the Toumba cemetery at Lefkandi and at Troy. The best-preserved amphora from Troy has two marks incised after firing on the belly (Catling 1998, 151). The marks themselves do not conform to the marking system present on local Trojan vessels and may therefore represent an import. The amphora found on pyre 11/12 at Toumba cemetery at Lefkandi is dated to ca. 950 BCE and also has two post-firing incised marks, one on each handle (Catling 1996, 128). These marks do not conform to local Euboean-style marks. Since both the Trojan and Lefkandian amphoras are considered imports and both have incised signs, they could plausibly be treated as commercial marks (Catling 1998, 165). In addition, the presence of two sets of marks and the differences in their execution may indicate that the amphora had been involved in more than a single episode of exchange (Papadopoulos 1994; Catling 1996, 128). The gap of 50–100 years between the Trojan and Lefkandi examples further demonstrates the long-term use of pot marks for commercial means or identification. Other early North Aegean amphoras have marks that were painted before the vessel was fired. Published examples include a cross painted on the neck of an amphora from Kastanas, another from Kastanas with rows of dots next to the handle, a cross painted on an amphora from Pherai/Chloe, and a vertical row of dots painted on an amphora from Iolkos (Gimatzidis 2010, 265; Papadopoulos 1994, 446 A38, pl. 113.f). Support for these marks having a commercial meaning comes from their find-contexts in settlements, as opposed to cemeteries, however it is impossible to distinguish their exact meanings (Papadopoulos 1994, 463). The application of the marks before firing might suggest that the purpose of the pot (or its contents) was already decided as the pot was created. This is in contrast to incised post-firing marks that have the impression of being an added piece of information to an already existing communication code. Based on current data, it seems that pot marks were not always applied to early North Aegean amphoras. Gimatzidis (2010, 267) speculates that this is because

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there was a general lack of uniformity in shape, size, and decoration of the pots themselves so that, although they were probably used as commercial vessels, the market did not require the application of pot marks to distinguish between different varieties or production location (as they did for later versions). Pot marks, both pre- and post-firing, are by far most prevalent on Group II North Aegean amphoras or “Thermaic Gulf” amphoras. As the vessel became more standardized in size, shape, and decoration, pot marks seem to have been more common. Indeed, pot marks exist on nearly every preserved Group II North Aegean amphora. Gimatzidis (2010, 264) posits that the pre-firing marks must have been made by the potters and have to do with the use of the vessels, essentially standing for a communication code since all the other features of Group II North Aegean amphoras were standardized. There is a wide repertoire of pre-firing painted marks positioned on the neck, body, and handles. The signs on the neck are generally larger than those painted on the body. The most common painted marks are sets of dots (similar to the earlier example from Kastanas). Post-firing marks were probably intended for some point during the vessel’s sale since these marks are found on sherds from different locations in the north and northwestern Aegean. They are mostly located on handles and include simple symbols or lines. A unique mark found on a few amphoras is a small, drilled pit(s) on the handles (Gimatzidis 2010, 266). The standardized nature of later North Aegean amphoras may have made pot marks necessary for the dealer to distinguish particular shipments, customers, or production regions. The marks do not seem to designate capacity, since there is no correlation between size and the marks themselves, nor do they seem to show contents as the repertoire of marks is too large (Papadopoulos 1994; Gimatzidis 2010, 267). As suggested for marks on early North Aegean amphoras, in cases where more than one post-firing mark is present, it is likely that the vessel had changed its contents or owner at least once (Gimatzidis 2010, 268; Kotsonas 2012, 162). Although the precise meanings of these pre- and post-firing marks are unknown, they nevertheless provide a tantalizing hint at the commercial nature of North Aegean amphoras and the relatively sophisticated trade networks already in place by the Early Iron Age.

Exchange Networks: From Interregional to Long-Distance In Chapter 4, it became clear that after the collapse of the Mycenaean palaces, trade in surplus oil and wine seems to have diminished down to a local or regional scale. The Postpalatial era was characterized by small-scale networks that utilized available household vessels, or simplified versions of previous palatial-era vessels, to seemingly “make-do” during a period of widespread transition. The Protogeometric period marks a shift toward organized,

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expanded interregional networks that supplied multiple areas with surplus oil and/or wine. The newly developed North Aegean amphora was used to transport bulk liquid commodities both within the northwest Aegean and beyond. In the Protogeometric period, three major areas seem to have been connected by trade using North Aegean amphoras (Map 5.3). The first is a cluster of sites in central Greece, but specifically the coastal region connecting Lokris, Boeotia, and the island of Euboea. While published numbers of early North Aegean amphoras are not great, as they are often very fragmentary, the number of sites involved is perhaps more significant. Most excavated settlement and cemetery sites in the above regions have produced at least one example, including the cemetery at Elateia (10), the large site of Kynos (1+), the sanctuary of Kalapodi (1+), Atalanti (1), Mitrou (2+), Agnanti (1), and Lefkandi (4+ in Toumba and fragments from Xeropolis). The second region includes coastal sites in northern Greece where a few early North Aegean amphoras have been found: Thessaly: Iolkos, Volos/Kapakli; Macedonia: Sindos, Thessaloniki Toumba, Kastanas, Assiros; Chalkidike: Sane, Torone, and Mende (Catling 1998; Pratt 2014, table 3, maps 8 and 9).

map 5.3 Distribution of early North Aegean amphoras with number and find context indicated. Image by author

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The third major area to receive early North Aegean amphoras is the northwest coast of Asia Minor, specifically the site of Troy, with smaller numbers at Klazomenai and possibly Pergamon and Ephesos (Map 5.3). Over the course of a century of excavation at Troy, early North Aegean amphora fragments have been discovered in almost every part of the Protogeometric and subProtogeometric levels of the citadel (level VIIb2). At least 150 fragments of these amphoras have been recovered and recorded (Aslan et al. 2014, 285). At Klazomenai, more than seven examples have been recovered in recent excavations on the floors of houses and in pits outside. It is argued that these pots are locally made (Aytaçlar 2004, 20–24). In addition, the two pots recovered from Pergamon have also tested as locally made, but on close inspection there are significant morphological differences from the typical early North Aegean amphoras, suggesting a local variant (Catling 1998, 155–162; Gimatzidis 2010, 252–255). In addition, the island of Lemnos produced many examples of early North Aegean amphoras, perhaps thirty or more (Cultraro 2004; Danile 2009, 323, fig. 27). The abnormally large number of fragments from Troy may be explained by the size of the site and the volume of excavations undertaken there. These three clusters within the distribution of early North Aegean amphoras – coastal central Greece, northern Greece, and the west coast of Anatolia – suggest a general distribution pattern moving between east and west across the Aegean Sea. Based on the high number of vessels found, Lemnos may have acted as a way station or stopping point along the way. This bimodal network may have led to settlements producing their own versions (e.g., Pergamon and Troy) if the chemical analyses are accurate. At the same time, or perhaps slightly later, there is evidence for a north-south mode of North Aegean amphora distribution that connected central Greece with Thessaly and Macedonia. In Thessaly, a large number of sites have produced early versions of North Aegean amphoras. Specifically, the sites of Pyrasos, Pherai/Chloe, Marmariani, Skyros, and Iolkos each have produced at least one example (Catling 1998; Gimatzidis 2010). Farther north, sites in Macedonia and the Chalkidike also seem to have been active within this early exchange network. Sindos has at least six examples and the cemetery of Torone has at least six as well (though many more belly-handled examples). These vessels are smaller than the following Group II and do not have regularized features. In addition, their presence in the Torone cemetery may lead us to question whether these particular examples are part of the same North Aegean amphora tradition as elsewhere, or whether a local network is at play. Without knowing the production locations of early North Aegean amphoras, it is impossible to say with 100 percent certainty that the amphoras found in these Greek regions were part of the same commercial network. It is entirely possible, for example, that many smaller networks existed on a more local scale. Counter to this idea, however, is the impressive continuity in vessel

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features and morphological characteristics that not only span centuries, but also a large geographical space. The dramatic increase in numbers of pots and sites at which they have been discovered, along with the common use of pot marks, strongly suggests that Group II North Aegean amphoras were part of a large and complex commercial network, especially when compared to other north Aegean products or any transport closed shape of the same period (Gimatzidis 2010, 262).17 This distribution network continued to involve settlements in coastal Asia Minor, but also extended the network’s boundary into the western Mediterranean (Maps 5.4 and 5.5). Since Group II North Aegean amphoras were most likely produced at one or more locations near the Thermaic Gulf, the renewed connection with Asia Minor suggests a healthy commercial network moving west to east. Thasos, an island located approximately halfway between the two regions, has produced a “large number” of Group II North Aegean amphora fragments in a port/settlement context (Gimatzidis 2002). Moving east from that location, at least thirty fragments of Group II North Aegean amphoras have been recovered in multiple settlement contexts within the citadel of Troy (Lenz et al. 1998). Additionally, one pot has been identified on Lesbos (Pyrrha) and Group II North Aegean amphoras have been recovered from Samos (Gimatzidis 2010, 262 n. 1603). A new node in the commercial network was created in the western Mediterranean by the addition of Pithekoussai to the North Aegean amphora’s distribution list (Map 5.4). Here, two Group II North Aegean amphoras have been recovered from the cemetery, and one from the acropolis (Gimatzidis 2010, 262 n. 1603). Since only a very small percentage of the colony has been

map 5.4 Distribution of Group II/late North Aegean amphoras outside of the north Aegean region. Image by author

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excavated, we may expect to find many more Group II North Aegean amphoras, which would add to the strength of the complex distribution network of the Late Geometric/Early Archaic period. Group II North Aegean amphora networks also continued the connections with southern Greece, as established in the Protogeometric period. These amphoras are found in relatively large numbers at Eretria and Lefkandi on Euboea. This suggests an intensified southerly connection with cities in central Greece, at least in the oil and wine trade. The distribution networks of Group II North Aegean amphoras, therefore, comprised an extended west-east trajectory as well as a north-south trajectory. At the same time that Group II North Aegean amphoras had a very wide range in their distribution, it is also clear that they were distributed locally in the areas of central Macedonia, Thessaly, and the Chalkidike (Map 5.5; see also Pratt 2014, table 3, maps 10 and 11). Because of the high standardization of these vessels, it is difficult to determine regional exchange patterns. However, there may be two slight variations in Group II North Aegean amphora

map 5.5 Distribution of Group II/late North Aegean amphoras within the north Aegean region. Image by author

COMMERCIAL EXCHANGE

production that could signal either different production locations, or, possibly, a change over time. The one variation has more of a biconical body and a taller neck, while the other is more oval (egg-like) with a shorter neck. Both are found at the large settlements of Kastanas and Sindos, but it is possible that one variation was a product of one site, and the other produced at the other site, suggesting an inter-site commercial network. In support of this smaller, but intense network in the north Aegean, the site of Iolkos has produced at least 900 fragments of “clearly imported” Group II North Aegean amphoras, though Sindos supposedly has the highest number of these vessels (Catling 1998; Gimatzidis 2010). The list of sites in the Thessaly/Macedonia region with a few examples of Group II North Aegean amphoras (both published and unpublished) is very long but includes Volos, Assiros, Marmariani, Thebes, Leivithra, Halos, Thessaloniki Toumba, Polichni, Methone, Akanthos, Archondiko, Nea Philadelphia, Aspros, Sariomer, Gona, Agrosykia, Perivolaki, Aphytis, Kochei at Neos Marmaras, Eion/Amphipolis, Kavala, Leukopetra, Neochori, Sfendami, Kranie at Platamon, Nea Nikomideia, Gallikos, Axiochori, Argilos, Edessa, Lebet Table, Kritsana, Therme, Nea Kallikrateia, Olynthos, Perivolaki Lagada, Sane Pallinis, Aphytis, and Mende (Gimatzidis 2010, 375; Kotsonas 2012, 154 ff). Where the sherds have been published, however, there are normally fewer than three listed. One site that should be promising in future publications is Karabournaki, where at least two Group II North Aegean amphoras are published, one in front of an oven (Tiverios 2009; Manakidou 2010). The site has also produced a few pottery workshops. Most interesting is the identification of large winemaking installations throughout the site and large quantities of archaeobotanical evidence for grape pressing (Tiverios, Manakidou, and Tsiafaki 2003, 193). Perhaps this site was a bottling location for the wine shipped in Group II North Aegean amphoras, which “serve for the overseas promotion and marketing of ‘Thermae’ wine.”18

Commercial Exchange: Conclusions The production and distribution patterns observed for North Aegean amphoras throughout the Early Iron Age suggest a gradual shift from localized production and regional distribution to regional production and interregional distributions. At the beginning of the Early Iron Age, the many production locations suggested for early North Aegean amphoras might indicate that they were produced on a relatively local scale but exchanged within a larger area. In a localized mode of production, fabric sources of a particular type of vessel are variable between regions as the producers probably resided in many different communities, supplying their own settlement and perhaps some close neighbors (Keswani 2009, 112–113). This is a similar situation to the production of

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oval-mouthed amphoras in Proto- and Neopalatial Crete, as discussed in Chapter 2. In both cases, despite local production strategies, the resulting amphoras featured very similar technological and stylistic features. A localized mode of production for early North Aegean amphoras, coupled with their complicated distribution patterns, suggests that many regions produced local vessels, filled them with local produce, and shipped them to various other sites around the Aegean. Their standardized decoration remained consistent, suggesting it formed some sort of “label” or identification method, most likely for their contents. Since the vessels were produced in various locations, the decoration could not have signaled their specific origin. Over time, the local strategy of production employed for early North Aegean amphoras seems to have shifted toward a more regional approach, as the production locations coalesced into a few identifiable, geographically restricted, places. Specifically, all the data point to a primary production location within the Thermaic Gulf region of northern Greece. Interestingly, variability within the general ceramic fabric type suggests multiple production locations within that geographical zone. Combined with the vessel’s absolute standardization and mass production, we might assume that production transformed into a regional strategy, not quite restricted enough to be considered “centralized,” but certainly integrated enough to create little deviation from a particular shape and decoration. At that point the decoration might have even transitioned to a type of “brand” that signaled the unique quality or type of commodity, most likely wine, contained within (Wengrow 2008; Bevan 2010). The Early Iron Age transition from local to regional production strategies for standardized bulk liquid transport containers would set the stage for the ensuing Archaic and Classical eras when many regions of the Greek world produced their own containers and products to fill them. CHAPTER CONCLUSIONS The early Iron Age Mediterranean was a world of fluid boundaries, where consumption played an important role, the whole functioning as a network, without a center. Although the culmination of this development was the invention of coinage in the later seventh century BC, the real search for structured commodities of value goes back to the Late Bronze and early Iron Age (Papadopoulos 2014, 190).

Although this statement was made in reference to the search for metals and their use as standards of value, it is certainly possible to apply the same sentiments to value-added commodities like oil and wine.19 Perfumed oil, for instance, was tightly controlled by palatial authorities in the Bronze Age. When those palatial social structures transformed in the Early Iron Age, there was continuity in the high value attributed to perfumed oil through its use as

CHAPTER CONCLUSIONS

grave gifts and its continued exchange throughout regional and long-distance networks in small, elaborate containers. Likewise, the production and exchange of flavored, aged, or imported wines continued uninterrupted from the Late Bronze Age to the Archaic era when their high value is made clear not only in the archaeological remains of commensal events but also in literary works such as the Homeric epics (see Appendix A). Wine and oil, therefore, could be considered one of these “structured commodities of value” that could be easily controlled, distributed, and consumed. Three major developments characterize the trajectory of surplus oil and wine exchange in the Early Iron Age. The first is a change in how the high value attributed to these commodities was constructed as networks of calculative agencies shifted from local to regional in scope. This change in the way oil and wine’s value was conceived developed as an outcome of the increasing connectivity and effectiveness of networks that came about during the course of the Early Iron Age. The second is a change in the dependencies between people and oil and wine as networks of people and things expanded. The result of these first two developments is the expansion of the more localized entanglements observed in the Postpalatial era to larger-scale and less centralized entanglements during the Early Iron Age. Entanglements developed a more “regional” character as small-scale, or more “local,” dependencies between people and things coalesced into a larger network that shared similar values and similar exchange contexts in which those values were manifested. The third major development in the trajectory of surplus oil and wine exchange is the transformation of the north Aegean into a “middle ground” for the confluence of various Mediterranean people – their ideas, values, and practices. That a shift in the construction of value, from a local to regional level, occurred during the Early Iron Age can be demonstrated through the development of a northwest Aegean koine and the production and exchange of increasingly standardized amphoras. The northwest Aegean koine is the expansion and evolution of the “East Mainland – Aegean koine” of the LH IIIC late period. The large, closed shapes, such as hydriai and amphoras, that made up the shared value system of that era shifted northward and expanded to include more vessel types, such as cups. The added shapes, however, seem to have complemented the larger vessels in that they are mostly concerned with the consumption and pouring of wine, the liquid presumably contained within the large closed shapes. In the Early Iron Age, the areas of Euboea, Boeotia, Phokis, east Lokris, Thessaly, and even Macedonia and Chalkidike, all shared preferences for the same particular shapes and decorations (Gimatzidis 2011, 960). These preferences often overlapped with Attica and the northern Cyclades. While there is some evidence for trade in these ceramic vessels, most of the examples found are locally produced. The presence of the same types of containers produced

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with the same motifs in these regions suggests a similar set of practices associated with the use of these vessels. Since these vessels include various types of cups, jugs, kraters, lekythoi, amphoriskoi, and other types of containers and consumption equipment, we might assume that the particular shared practices had to do specifically with wine and processed-oil exchange and consumption. Shared production, exchange, and consumption of particular vessels and their associated commodity would imply the same or similar values calculated by similarly composed local networks of calculative agencies. This could mean that the similarities viewed in the archaeological record between the pottery of different regions is not the result of the domination of one region over others (e.g., the “Euboean koine”) nor is it the sole result of trade. Rather, what we see as a “koine” is really a shared system of values and practices, all centered around the consumption of wine and oil and their role within the cultural identity of a region. In this way, a “koine” is nothing more than a shared value system. No single node within a regional network controls the value system – it is generated and influenced simultaneously by multiple nodes within the network. Even if some styles existed at a particular place first (e.g., pendent semicircle skyphos in Euboea) the value attributed to the style comes from the acceptance of that style by other nodes. The value does not emanate from a particular node, nor is it imposed by one node. There is no political control associated with this regional value system (as in the previous Mycenaean palatial era). Therefore, the northwest Aegean “koine” is a wonderful, archaeologically visible, demonstration of the development of regional networks of value during the Early Iron Age. Another means by which we are able to see the development of regional networks of value during the Early Iron Age is by the exchange and consumption of North Aegean amphoras. From the Protogeometric to the Late Geometric periods, we can trace a shift in their value as calculative agencies changed and expanded to a regional level. Early North Aegean amphoras and their contents seem to have been consumed as prestige goods as they are consistently found within large buildings in settlements (Pratt 2014, table 3, maps 8 and 9) and are often found as grave gifts within wealthy graves. Their use as an object to be placed within a tomb as a gift is significantly different from their later use as burial containers – an exploitation of their functionality as large vessels. There is even some speculation that early North Aegean amphoras may have initially functioned as a type of tribute from Lokris to Troy, following the myth of the “Locrian Maidens” (Catling 1998, 164; S.P. Morris 2007, 60–62). Early North Aegean amphoras, therefore, seem to have been highly valued within all three prominent exchange contexts: commensal events, gift-giving, and trade.

CHAPTER CONCLUSIONS

In contrast, later Group II North Aegean amphoras were used in a more utilitarian manner. Their treatment as prestige objects is no longer clearly evident. What comes to the fore is their strictly utilitarian use as large containers suitable for transportation of liquids overseas. When Group II North Aegean amphoras are found in funerary contexts, they are usually used as burial containers, not as gifts to the deceased.20 The contexts in which later North Aegean amphoras were exchanged emphasize the utility of these vessels, as well as a clear change in their value. This change, from prestige object to utility vessel, might be due to the expansion of the network calculating the value of the amphora. By the end of the Early Iron Age, North Aegean amphoras were mass-produced on a regional level and traded by long-distance networks; they were no longer restricted in number and geographical distribution. North Aegean amphoras were therefore caught up in the regional value system created during the Early Iron Age as smaller local networks interacted with one another on an increasingly intense scale. The second major development that characterizes the trajectory of surplus oil and wine exchange in the Early Iron Age is a shift from dependencies with a more “local” character to a more “regional” character. In the Postpalatial era, each settlement site seems to have maintained its own storage of surplus, produced its own supply of essential goods, and hosted its own commensal events. The result of these activities was the construction of localized dependencies between people and things. In the Early Iron Age, however, broader regions or groups of settlements seem to have participated within the same networks of dependency. Regionalization was certainly not new, but the distinctive products of these regions and the dependencies surrounding their production and exchange came to the fore as more effective networks allowed wider access to the most desirable of these regional commodities. This is perhaps best seen in the transition in production locations of North Aegean amphoras from many places distributed around the Eastern Aegean to a concentration in the Thermaic Gulf region. In addition, dependencies with a regional nature developed out of the formation and increasing influence of regional sanctuaries. Although some of the earliest evidence for large-scale feasting in the Early Iron Age is located in rulers’ dwellings, it is uncertain how much surplus the leaders were able to acquire and distribute themselves. Instead, we have clear evidence for the use of religious installations. Eventually, however, leaders’ dwellings were equipped with large and prominently displayed storage facilities, perhaps emphasizing their ability to command such resources. At this time, regional sanctuaries gained in prominence as locations for large communal commensal events. Toward the end of the Early Iron Age, as the ritual character of large-scale feasts increased and included more echelons of people, the overall dependency between oil/wine and people would have once again increased.

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The dependencies between people would have also been stretched to the regional level during the Early Iron Age through disparities in settlement size. Settlement patterns suggest that some settlements were large enough to command labor necessary to produce surplus oil and wine while others would not have had the resources. The need to move surplus commodities between settlements is attested by production of standardized containers (North Aegean amphoras). In these instances, the dependencies between people and oil and wine were generated not by a central node (like a palace) but by a shared system of practices and values. People were dependent upon wine because they valued it as a necessary component of, for example, a feast or libation. People were dependent on oil because it was a necessary component of, among other things, the burial process. After the palatial collapse, there was no reason to keep producing surplus oil and wine other than the fact that people valued those products and desired them within particular exchange modes. The fact that these values were not maintained across the collapse in all instances is demonstrated by the abandonment of other things like kylikes, stirrup jars, and even record keeping using written language. The use of oil and wine within established social practices, such as funerary feasts and sacrifices at regional sanctuaries, solidified their place within the socio-cultural milieu of the Early Iron Age. The evidence for production strategies and distribution of North Aegean amphoras supports the idea that larger-scale, less centralized or “regional” entanglements were forming during this era, particularly during the second half of the Early Iron Age. In the definition proposed here, regional entanglements have a small number of influential nodes that are strongly linked together. These clusters are then connected with weaker links to other entanglements, thereby creating an enclosed group of entanglements that share similar attributes, values, and dependencies. The characteristics of Group II North Aegean amphoras provide evidence for the existence of a regional type of entanglement. Specifically, North Aegean amphoras seem to have been the forerunners of a trend in Greek amphora production where the characteristics of the vessels themselves act as identifying markers of the region from which the contents originated. Later Archaic and Classical transport amphoras continued this trend as they were labeled by specific regions (e.g., Chian or Samian). It has become increasingly clear, however, that these different amphoras actually represented a much broader region. Based on ceramic, numismatic, and literary evidence from Torone, Papadopoulos and Paspalas (1999, 165) suggest that the famed “Mendaian” wine of the Classical era actually derived from multiple cities in the larger area of the Chalkidike, rather than from the city of Mende specifically. This realization can also be applied to Group II North Aegean amphoras. Based on ceramic fabric composition, multiple production regions manufactured Group II North Aegean amphoras. It is also clear that the vessels

CHAPTER CONCLUSIONS

were highly standardized in size, shape, and decoration. This suggests that like later amphoras from the same region, Group II North Aegean amphoras represented a large area of production in liquid commodities and did not signal one particular origin. Group II North Aegean amphoras may have been the ancestor that affected later homogeneity in shapes of north Aegean amphoras, especially Thasian, Akanthian, and Mendaian. Each of these vessels share morphological traits and even used similar marking systems (Lawall 1995, 156; Papadopoulos and Paspalas 1999, 179). The regional dependencies between people, oil, and wine established by the end of the Early Iron Age therefore set the stage for the ensuing Archaic and Classical periods. North Aegean agency may have been a defining characteristic in the developing entanglement between people and oil and wine in the Early Iron Age. For North Aegean amphoras, the only common denominator between early and late examples is, in fact, the north Aegean, and specifically the region around the Thermaic Gulf and Chalkidike. In this way, the North Aegean acted as a veritable “middle ground” where multiple actors interacted with each other; actors that included southern Greeks, Phoenicians, and Trojans, just to name a few. In this sense the North Aegean functioned as a chronological bridge, essentially connecting the end of the Bronze Age with the beginning of the Archaic period through the continued maintenance of commercial ties with regions outside Greece. During the eighth century, the north Aegean formation of a homogeneous system of amphora production, starting with the Group II north Aegean amphora, may have prompted a southerly response in the region of Attica and Euboea, to which we will return in Chapter 6. By the time of the North Aegean amphora’s abandonment in the north, the south had initiated a large-scale production of its own amphoras, the “SOS” and Corinthian A. At the end of the Early Iron Age, entanglements characterized as more “regional” were fully formed and transitioned into the Archaic period by acquiring more overt political associations. The development of the Greek polis and the exponential increase in Greek movement abroad complicated and problematized the foundational networks of the Early Iron Age. The common trends observed in the values and practices manifested in production of northwest Aegean pottery disappeared once and for all at the end of the Late Geometric period. Euboean imports in Macedonia, Thessaly, and the Cyclades were replaced by Corinthian and East Greek tableware. Significantly, local northwest Aegean pottery was not influenced by the newly introduced south and east Greek wares (Tiverios 1993, 556–567; 1998, 250–251; Gimatzidis 2011, 963). This might suggest that the regional entanglement that had developed out of shared values and dependencies during the Early Iron Age was no longer operating. Instead, smaller regions developed their own values and dependencies as political institutions began to formalize

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and settlements coalesced. The values and dependencies on oil and wine developed during the Early Iron Age, however, did not dissipate. Instead, those influences strengthened the cultural need for surplus oil and wine within social and economic exchanges. As a result, the early Archaic period marks the point when surpluses of Greek oil and wine and their associated practices were exchanged within a broader Mediterranean network of people and places, resulting in the solidification of these two commodities as signifiers of specifically Greek culture.

SIX

EXPANDING THE RELATIONSHIP Oil and Wine in the Early Archaic Period

A

s the era known as the “eighth century revolution” (Hägg 1983; Morris 2009) brought light back into the “darkness” of the Early Iron Age, the production and exchange of oil and wine flourished.1 Their role as markers of Greek culture, imbedded in the actions of daily life and central features of special occasions, solidified further still. It is in the early Archaic period that olive oil and wine, as Greek cultural commodities, began to develop an overt symbolism juxtaposed with the predominant consumable commodities of neighboring cultures. As Greeks started to move outward from the archipelago, cultural norms and tendencies clashed and it is possible to see archaeologically the creative ways in which oil and wine were subsumed (or not) into other regimes of value and relationships. The beginning of the Archaic era (ca. 750 BCE) marks a significant transitional point in the history of Greek culture. Along with population explosion came consolidation through formalizing the city-state or polis2 and dispersal through colonization. This process, however, was a slow and variable one. In some regions, population coalescence started in the eleventh century, while true urbanization and monumental architecture is not attested on the Greek mainland before the sixth century (Morris 1991, 40).3 In addition, poleis formed over different historical trajectories. Some settlements expanded gradually, like Knossos, while others, like Athens and Corinth, appear to have been the result of the fusion of multiple smaller villages (Hansen 2006, 51–53; Hall 2007, 74–75). The people governing such spaces also varied throughout the Early 245

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Iron Age and into the Archaic era. The political situation attested for the eleventh to ninth centuries, essentially the presence of “big-men” or “chiefs” appears to also be the case for the eighth century, at least in some prominent regions.4 It is only in the seventh century that developments toward the emergence of the state can be identified. The first move in that direction was a shift toward authority based on ascribed status, where emphasis is given to the office itself rather than the person who holds it.5 Second was the emergence of hierarchical classes. The often designated “leisure class” seems to have held a monopoly on these newly ascribed offices (see Duplouy 2006; Rose 2009; van Wees and Fisher 2015). These elite classes were perhaps the result of the coalescence of small communities, each headed by their own chieftains, into larger urban societies (Hall 2013, 13). By the sixth century there is archaeological evidence for built structures to house assemblies and councils, with some of the first at regional sanctuaries such as Delos, Delphi, and Olympia (Scott 2010, 41–74, 146–180). As discussed throughout this chapter, the formation of the polis and a bureaucratic state certainly affected the characteristics of the entanglement between people and oil and wine and the ways in which the value of those commodities was constructed. Contemporaneous to the formation of the polis and intimately tied to the expansion of commercial networks during the Archaic period, is the phenomenon generally termed colonization (Map 6.1).6 Perhaps surprisingly, more recent archaeological research has suggested that Greek settlements abroad did not maintain close connections with their mother cities, neither supplying

map 6.1 Extent of Greek and Phoenician colonization. Image by author

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material goods nor conforming to their home traditions and values.7 Instead, Greek settlements in regions like Sicily and the Italian peninsula were from the start independent city-states, called apoikiai (literally “home away from home” – Finley 1976, 174). By taking a fresh look at the earliest moments of contact, one can gain a clearer idea of how indigenous people first interacted with Greek culture and how the newly settled Greeks integrated or shunned local values (Antonaccio 2004; Hodos 2006; Dietler and López Ruiz 2009). Whatever the exact reasons for the establishment of Greek settlements abroad, it is clear that the last generation of the eighth century BCE was responsible for establishing one new settlement every 2 years in Sicily and south Italy.8 The details and impact of these various ventures will be particularly relevant during the discussion of the role of surplus oil and wine in Archaic-era commercial exchange, to which I return later. Economic enterprise became an increasingly important aspect of Greek life as Archaic Greek poleis gradually coalesced into concrete forms of political and ideological expression and Greek colonies spread throughout the Mediterranean. At the same time, interactions between Greeks and other Mediterranean cultures increased dramatically as population movements expanded the potential market to an all-time high. Based on archaeological and literary evidence, we know that exports from Greece at this time in the Archaic period consisted mainly of agricultural surplus. Archaeobotanical evidence suggests that the primary crops produced included cereals, olives, and grapes. In this way, agricultural production constituted the main pillar of the Greek economy. Yet, what was the motivation behind producing these goods? In general, the debate has been divided between the desire to attain self-sufficiency and the “acquisitive drive,” the desire to attain things for the sake of prestige or desire (Van Wees 2009, 450). This acquisitive drive was fueled by two major activities: the creation of surplus and its subsequent trade and competition for wealth. In the Greek Archaic period, surplus agricultural product was generated by farmers or, more accurately, wealthy estate owners. These estate owners can be represented as “princes” in the case of Homeric poetry (such as Odysseus himself) or as “farmers” (wealthy land owners) in the case of Hesiod’s Works and Days.9 Farmers, in this sense of the word, seem to have been able to trade their own surplus for desirable goods, even without the involvement of middlemen (Descoeudres 2008, 338). Significantly, in Works and Days, Hesiod clearly states that he can export his agricultural surplus (line 631) and that he enjoys wine imported from Biblis (line 589; see Appendix B).10 At the same time, the natural environment created favorable conditions for such enterprises for the first time in centuries. Consequently, olives and grapes seem to have become two of the most intensely cultivated plants in most regions of Greece. Perhaps as a response to the North Aegean amphora of the Early Iron Age, Attica and Corinth invented their first bulk liquid transport amphoras around the middle of the eighth century. Not surprisingly, these

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containers and their products of oil and wine were immediately shipped abroad, taking advantage of the nascent markets generated by new colonies and contacts. It is therefore clear that surplus oil and wine were inextricably bound to the political, social, and economic developments of the Archaic era. This bond is most apparent when examining the transformations of the role of oil and wine within new exchange contexts. PRODUCTION OF OIL AND WINE

Patterns in the locations of vineyards and olive groves, pressing installations, and bulk storage areas provide insights into how and by whom oil and wine were produced and controlled. Additionally, the general scale of manufacture (household, community, regional) can aid in understanding how the value of these commodities was constructed and the types of relationships of dependency generated by the production of oil and wine. Unfortunately, like the eras before it, the Archaic period does not present much direct evidence for the production of oil and wine. In fact, only two presses have been securely dated to the Archaic period and two to the later Classical period. The lack of olive and grape presses in the archaeological record, however, has not hindered most scholars in reconstructing a vibrant economy involving agricultural surplus. Other, indirect, evidence for the production of oil and wine, such as archaeobotanical remains, literary accounts, and later Classical analogies permit some insight into Archaic Greek practices.

Technologies of Oil and Wine Production The reasons for the near absence of archaeologically visible press installations in Archaic contexts are the result of a number of factors. The first is that presses were often located out in the fields closer to where the fruits were harvested, rather than in the city, although there are a few possible examples of urban presses (as discussed further on). Indeed, presses have been found in the countryside of Greece during archaeological surveys, but they seem to date to the Hellenistic period at the very earliest, with most of them dating to the Roman period (surveys that found press beds: Methana, Southern Argolid, Kea, Lakonia, Atene; Foxhall 2007, 173–204, table 6.2). The multipurpose nature of presses, taking on various tasks not limited to olive and grape pressing, also contributes to their invisibility. As presses were often made of stone, these useful pieces of equipment were commonly reused and taken out of their original contexts. In addition, Archaic and Classical Greek olive pressing was probably done on a smaller scale and was less professionalized than later Hellenistic and Roman farming. The result is a fewer number of more diverse types of presses (Foxhall 2007, 132).

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Multiple methods of pressing olives and grapes were most likely in use at the same time and likely varied in degree of technological sophistication. On the one hand, a press could be as simple as a slightly concave stone on top of which fruit would be placed and a cylindrical roller would be pushed (Foxhall 1993, 193; 2007, 179–180). On the other hand, presses could be complicated installations requiring specialized skill and knowledge to construct, such as a “lever and weights” press or Roman-era trapetum (Brun 1993). Large, expensive, specialized crushers were only good value if there was a particular need for processing olives on a very large scale. This was probably not the case for most of Archaic Greece (Foxhall 1993, 193). The two archaeologically attested pressing facilities dating to the Archaic period come not from the Greek peninsula itself but from Azoria on Crete and Klazomenai – a (Greek) city on the west coast of Anatolia.11 Both date to the sixth century BCE and are of the same type, generally referred to as a “leverand-weights” or “beam” press that involved exerting large amounts of pressure by means of a wooden beam fixed on one end and weighed down on the other by large stones (Brun 2004, 13–16; Foxhall 2007, 134–139). These types of presses were often used for larger-scale production and the urban location of both presses supports the idea that they were for communal use or their products were destined for communal activities. The olive pressing installations at Azoria were located in the Service Building next to a large Civic Building and a communal dining area interpreted as an andreion (Haggis et al. 2011). Here, two rooms were associated with olive oil production and storage. The east room contained multiple pithos jars and fragments of crushed olive pits. The west room was at a lower level and twice the size of the east room and connected by a small half doorway or window. This room contained a hearth and long bench. Parallel to this bench along the south wall there are three niches or sockets. A stone mortar block, cylindrical stone (roller crusher), and a slab-built bin were also found in the room. Taken together, the evidence suggests an installation for processing olive oil. Specifically, a “lever and weights” press (or “beam press”) with a “roller and bed”-type crusher (Foxhall 2007, 134–139). No press beds were recovered in situ on top of the bench itself, but two fragments of rectangular press beds were found in a layer of wall collapse and destruction debris at the level of the top of the bench. A third intact press bed was found reused and built into the later Hellenistic room that was constructed on top of the destruction debris in the northern end of the eastern storeroom. They are square-trough type with a tapering rim. No separation tank or jar were found in situ below the press bench, but a complete olive-oil separator (spouted jar) was recovered in the adjacent storeroom in the central rooms of the Service Building and a base fragment of another separator, probably reused, was found in the small Hellenistic room built over the eastern room.

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Archaeobotanical remains and residue analyses confirm the use of this equipment for the large-scale production of olive oil. Preliminary analysis of residue on the press-bed fragments show spikes of oleic acid, the typical signature of olive oil (Haggis et al. 2011, 50 n. 120). In addition, deposits of crushed olives were recovered across the floor of the west room and especially in the area immediately north of the press bench and east of the basin. Fragmentary carbonized olive endocarps were found in a hearth in the oil press room as well as on the floor surfaces of houses throughout the site. The ones in the press room were numerous and highly fragmented with dull, rounded edges, almost certainly indicating the use of olive cakes (or pomace) as fuel (Rowan 2015, 468).12 The installation and accompanying material at Azoria preserves evidence for all stages of oil processing (crushing, pressing, settling, and separation), providing the best-preserved example of a lever-andweights style press from the Archaic Greek Aegean. The prevailing interpretation is that the Service Building, including the olive press and its products, was used primarily for large-scale production and storage of food and objects related to activities in both adjacent buildings (Haggis et al. 2011). The Greek city of Klazomenai on the west coast of Anatolia provides the only other example of an olive press dated to the Archaic period. The press is located in the western sector of the city and appears to have had two successive phases of use. As reconstructed by its excavators, the press would have been a “lever and weights” or “beam” press like the one found at Azoria (Brun 2004, 13–16). Olives were placed in sacks or baskets and stacked on top of a stone press bed on top of which a crushing stone would be placed. Pressure would be applied to the crushing stone by means of a wooden beam that was fixed on one end and weighed down on the other by large stones. At Klazomenai, the installation consisted of a room or courtyard with fifteen pits cut into the bedrock, not all of which were in simultaneous use. Facilities for crushing, pressing and separating olive oil have also been reconstructed. Foxhall (2007, 136), however, suggests that this press also could have been used for crushing grapes to make wine, as indicated by the plastered floor. An example of Archaic-era beam presses used in the production of wine can perhaps be demonstrated by an image on a sixth-century skyphos (Figure 6.1). It depicts a man hanging from the beam to add extra weight as it is used to press sacks of fruit. In this instance, it seems more likely that the fruits are grapes since the whole contraption is resting on a rather flimsy looking table. The amount of pressure necessary for crushing olives would require that the table be impossibly sturdy (Foxhall 1993, 184). This is perhaps another example of the multifunctional properties of pressing installations in the ancient Greek world. Although the good preservation of these Archaic installations allow us to reconstruct more fully the exact pressing mechanisms (i.e., lever and

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6.1 Black Figure Skyphos depicting a lever press, sixth century BCE, Attic. 10.2 × 15.3 cm (Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. Foundation H. L. Pierce 99.525). Photograph ©2020 Museum of Fine Arts, Boston

weights), it is likely that these types of presses existed since the Late Bronze Age, as discussed in Chapters 2 and 3 (Foxhall 2007, 136). Later Classical-era presses are likewise scarce in the archaeological record. Only two have been convincingly identified, one at Halieis in the southern Argolid (Jameson 1969, 2001; Foxhall 2007, 143–148) and the other at Olynthos in the Chalkidike (Cahill 2002, 239–241). These fourth century presses are not directly applicable to the Archaic period, but they are useful for identifying long-term trends. The most important observation about the presses at Halieis and Olynthos is that both pressing installations appear to have been multi-use, just like the one at Klazomenai. At Halieis, Foxhall (2007, 146–147) argues that the nature of the installations suggests flexibility in the type of activity taking place and that the equipment seems apt for grape crushing in particular. Similarly, the evidence for presses at Olynthos does not match typical beam press remains. Some features appear to be more suited to wine pressing (House A xi 10; Foxhall 2007, 150), while others allow for the extra force and catchment basins needed for olive pressing (House A 6; Foxhall 1993; 2007, 153). In addition, the fact that only two presses have been identified, and they are in opposite geographical locations, solidifies the idea that most production of olive oil and wine took place in non-distinct areas, like agricultural fields and ephemeral structures. Scenes illustrated on Classical-era red and black figure vases and coins also point to the prominence of countryside settings when treading grapes (Immerwahr 1992).

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Oil and Wine Production: Literary Evidence Various forms of literature also provide indirect evidence for production of surplus oil and wine, both large- and small-scale.13 None of these sources, however, are straightforward and all require careful interpretation. Because of the complications surrounding the interpretation of the earliest Archaic Greek literature, and specifically Homer and Hesiod, appendices are provided that present a complete examination of oil and wine exchange in those works. Leaving the Homeric poems aside for now, perhaps the most informative written evidence for oil and wine production comes from Hesiod’s Works and Days. Since Appendix B lists all the passages that mention oil or wine and includes commentary, here, focus is placed solely on one passage that is particularly relevant to our discussion of oil and wine production, when the narrator is instructing his brother, Perses, on the best time of year and techniques to harvest grapes for wine: “When Orion and Sirius come into the middle of the sky, and rosy-fingered Dawn sees Arcturus [in mid-September], then, Perses, pluck off all the grapes and take them home (οικαδε). Set them out in the sun for ten days and ten nights, then cover them up in the shade for five, and on the sixth draw out (αϕυσσαι) the gift of much-cheering Dionysus into storage-vessels (αγγε’)” (Works and Days, lines 609–614; see also Appendix B). This passage is important for a few reasons. The first is that it demonstrates that farmers in the Archaic period already had sophisticated methods for producing the best wines. In this particular case, drying the grapes in the sun concentrates the sugars in the fruits so that when they are pressed, a sweeter wine will be produced. The second important implication of the abovementioned passage is subtler. Hesiod, although very detailed about exactly how many days to leave the grapes in the sun and shade, does not provide details about the methods of “drawing out” the must. This means that either the process of pressing the grapes was so well established that it did not need to be discussed, or that the particular method chosen was not important enough to warrant discussion. This fits well with the archaeological evidence discussed earlier concerning various types of multi-use equipment. The third implication is the location in which these activities took place. Perses is instructed to take the grapes home after they have been harvested. In this case, the narrator would most likely be referring to a farmstead, since the Works and Days is generally about how to manage yourself and your agricultural affairs (including slaves and wives) as a “gentleman-farmer” (van Wees 2009). Although it is impossible to say with certainty that the grapes were then pressed in the same location, i.e., “at home,” it does seem that a well-off farmer had control over his own grapes on his own country estate. Certainly this would have included the help of slaves and workers, but

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it is nevertheless a relatively autonomous situation. The emphasis on storage jars and, in other parts of the work, surplus foodstuff, suggests that Hesiod is concerned with producing a certain amount of surplus wine that would be necessary for household affairs. This surplus would be on the level of what Foxhall (2007, 38) calls “domestic production.”14 In this mode, households would produce surpluses well beyond subsistence in order to increase social and symbolic capital. Domestic needs for surpluses could be very high, especially for the purposes of exchange of the kinds discussed throughout this book. Indeed, smaller-scale commensal events, gifts, and overseas commercial trade exchanges are all mentioned in Hesiod’s Works and Days. This one passage is therefore exceedingly important for understanding the overall trends of wine production in the Archaic period, despite problems concerning the exact date, author, and audience of the work.

Effects of Climate Change: The “Homeric low” and Its Benevolent Aftermath As we have observed throughout this book, climate change played a role in the scale and location of vine and olive cultivation. From the Bronze Age shift to bimodal seasons to the Postpalatial solar minimum, the “Preclassical global crisis” impacted the ways in which people interacted with the natural environment and the dependency plants had on people to stabilize otherwise inhospitable agricultural conditions (e.g., too much water or not enough water). The Preclassical global crisis, a shift toward a cooler and drier climate in the Mediterranean, seems to have ended in the eighth century (Brooke 2014, 299). However, it went out with a bang. Around 800 BCE, a deep solar minimum occurred along with a strong Siberian High, which pushed cold winter weather south.15 Brooke (2014, 301) refers to this low point as the “Homeric Low.” What this means is that climate was generally colder and drier during the Early Iron Age with a final blow around 800 BCE of a particularly cold burst. However, the 50-year period following such a major solar minimum would have seen increased precipitation and much warmer conditions, and thus better growing conditions in the Mediterranean (Manning 2013, 113). A variety of palaeoenvironmental records from the west, central, and east Mediterranean suggest generally moister conditions for the period after about 750 BCE (Kaniewski et al. 2010; see also Manning 2013, 113–114 for references). There are also some indications that the Mediterranean should have received an increase in small, nonerosive, rainfall during winter and spring associated with a period of major solar cooling (Vita-Finzi 2008). Manning (2013, 114) suggests that all of these conditions should have provided a more positive regional context for agriculture, especially in contrast to the aridity of the twelfth to eighth centuries BCE in the eastern Mediterranean. The result was a beneficial environment for human populations, and especially for those in

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the lower elevation and more arid-risk regions such as Athens and central Greece (Manning 2010, 41–44). Thus, the change in climate during the course of the eighth century might have been one factor contributing to the re-initiation of large-scale surplus production of oil and wine in southern Greece after a hiatus during the Early Iron Age. The experience of an overall “low” followed by significant recovery can be described as ecological resilience. The model of “resilience theory” posits that natural and social systems evolve through adaptive cycles of expansion, crisis, and reorganization, with long-range cumulative trajectories. When it comes to crisis, and especially climate change, humans act to avert or deflect exogenous impact in order to extend and transform the adaptive cycle. Crisis, therefore, creates a reformation of social, cultural, and political forms as people adapt and recover from its various consequences. It is argued that, historically, the result of this cycle of resilience is the creation of increasingly sophisticated varieties of the state (Redman 2005; Schwartz and Nichols 2006; Butzer 2012; Brooke 2014, 268). The formation of the Archaic polis, population movements abroad, the aggrandizement of regional temples, and the formalization of social institutions might have all been responses, at least partially, to the “Homeric Low” and its aftermath. EXCHANGING OIL AND WINE IN THE ARCHAIC PERIOD

Compared to previous eras, early Archaic period exchange contexts involving olive oil and wine were characterized by expansion in both scale and types of events. The Early Iron Age and Postpalatial era seem to have had very restricted types of occasions with smaller numbers of participants when oil and wine would be exchanged. To some extent, this restriction was carried forward from the Mycenaean palatial era when the central administration seems to have taken a primary role in the regulation of oil and wine use, even though the scale of exchange was much grander. Archaeological evidence dated to the Archaic period suggests that an openness to new events, new participants, and new contexts came about at this time. The types of commensal events identifiable in the archaeological record expands and includes public, communal events in both secular and sacred contexts, as well as private events that could be larger or smaller in scale. Exchanges with the divine and deceased continued to rely on oil and wine in relatively large quantities and it is possible to identify different types of ritual contexts, such as built cemetery platforms, ancestral tombs, and depositional pits. Commercial exchange, too, expands in the early Archaic period with trends toward larger-scale, longer-distance exchange alongside smaller-scale, more local ventures. The types of people involved in exchanging oil and wine in commercial contexts also seems to expand, or at least formalize,

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as indicated by evidence for different professions. Across all three exchange contexts, oil and wine continue to be indispensable. As explored later, both commodities were integral to the proper functioning and success of feasts, rituals, and commercial ventures. COMMENSAL EXCHANGE: COMMUNAL, PRIVATE, AND RITUAL

The role of oil and wine in commensal events became increasingly prominent throughout the Archaic era. The prominence of oil and wine was greatly affected by the diversification of types and contexts of commensal events at the same time that their scale and frequency increased dramatically from the previous Early Iron Age. As the social and political institutions discussed earlier gradually came into existence, albeit in an erratic and complicated fashion, forms of commensality necessarily shifted to accommodate these new relationships between people. Indeed, the trend of feasting in leaders’ dwellings, once visible in the Early Iron Age, gave way during the course of the eighth century to arguably two different categories of large-scale feasting: that in urban temples and that in public mess halls. In addition, the increased importance of regional sanctuaries made evident in the previous era came to full fruition during the Archaic era as regional temples became monumentalized and associated commensal events expanded in constituency and regularity, though not in an egalitarian way. Finally, the Archaic era witnesses the introduction of private, elite feasts, generally referred to as “Symposia.” These Symposia do not seem to have been “secular” parties, but rather, had their own religious connotations. The pervasiveness of religious attributes to all forms of commensality has been addressed by Schmitt Pantel (1997, 7) in her monumental work on public feasts. Ancient Greek life is fundamentally inseparable from religious connotations and all meals, whether “sympotic” or not, had a religious dimension. The omnipresence of ritual within all forms of feasting events is the logical result of Early Iron Age practices where leaders retained control of commensal exchange both between people and between people and gods. As social structures changed during the Archaic era, various levels of people would have desired to access the same types of commensal exchange as they themselves vied for social supremacy. Indeed, the religious aspects of all types of commensal exchange became ever more prominent during the course of the Archaic era as those social structures and institutions fought for solidification. Archaic era commensal exchange is therefore characterized as much by its ritual aspects as by its diversity. The variety of practices visible not only in the archaeological record but also in literary sources, such as the Homeric epics, operated in different contexts (Hodkinson 1997, 90–91). These contexts were at first very fluid, seemingly indefinable or, rather, having multiple definitions. During the course of the seventh and sixth centuries, however,

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we can trace the gradual definition of commensal forms, their constituency, and their practices. One of the major divisions, as we will see, is between public and private feasting, both of which highlight the increasingly institutionalized divisions between elite and everyone else. Murray (1990, 5) distinguishes four “ideal types” of commensality in the Archaic era: the religious festival, the military common meal, the public meal granted as an honor by the polis, and the symposion for pleasure. However, as Schmitt Pantel (1997) convincingly demonstrates, there were many variations within those types and many of the types of commensal events overlapped in emphasis. Consequently, she views Archaic commensality on a sliding scale that, at the same time, has multiple axes between public and private, religious and secular, elite and common, military and pleasure, and so on. In no instance, especially during the first half of the Archaic era, are we able to see, in any form of evidence, clear distinctions between the “ideal types” of commensal events. It is only toward the very end of the Archaic era that iconographic and written evidence provides clearer distinctions between some events, like Symposia. The evidence for the use of oil and wine within commensal exchange contexts blossoms for the Archaic era. No longer are we dependent solely upon the archaeological record, as was the case for the Early Iron Age. Instead, the increasingly sophisticated illustrations on ceramic vessels provide invaluable iconographic evidence for various forms of commensal activities. In addition, the adoption of the written alphabet from the East by the Greeks in the eighth century allowed knowledge of writing to gradually expand in scope throughout the Archaic era. Consequently, we have at our disposal more written sources attesting to the value and role of oil and wine within different feasting contexts. Despite their outward utility, however, written sources are imbued with ideological biases and chronological complications. Accordingly, it has been argued that, for the Archaic era at least, it is necessary to consider written sources carefully and instead focus more on archaeology as “a document of social realities” (Erickson 2011, 381). Despite the apparent typology of commensal events described in written sources, archaeological evidence often remains entirely indistinct when it comes to the exact type of event recovered from the extant material remains. Attempts to delineate characteristics of event types often fail. Hypothetically, the presence of decorated kylikes and kraters should indicate Symposia, while more plain cups such as skyphoi, kotylai, and the kothon are perhaps associated with lower classes of drinking and selling wine by the glass (Kelly-Blazeby 2006). This distinction, however, is never very neat and we often find various types of cups in private settings, as well as kraters in large-scale events at sanctuaries. Indeed, it has been pointed out that the largest number of kraters from any context of drinking comes from Athens (also from where most of our iconographic and written evidence derives). We

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should therefore be hesitant to ascribe the same types of drinking activities, like the Symposion, onto other regions of Greece (Kelly-Blazeby 2006, 210). Feasting in the Archaic era is characterized by diversity of types, pervasiveness of religious contexts, and restructuring of social relationships both within large-scale feasts and between types of feasts. Oil and wine were consequently used as both leveling and differentiating commodities during the Archaic era. That is to say, in general, many more people had access to some oil and wine at the same time that quantity, quality, and equipment used varied substantially between participants. In the following discussion of the role of oil and wine in Archaic commensal exchange, focus is placed primarily on archaeological evidence in the form of architectural contexts and commensal equipment to highlight the aspects discussed earlier. At the same time, other iconographic and written evidence are included for which interpretations and date are relatively secure.

Regional Sanctuaries: Division of Community In Chapter 5, we traced the increasing prominence of regional sanctuaries within the landscape of Early Iron Age Greece and how commensal events at those sanctuaries provided neutral meeting places for regional elites where competitive display seems to have played a major role. Within those contexts, oil and wine were prominent items given and consumed between people and between people and the gods. Throughout most of the Early Iron Age, feasting remains at extra-urban sanctuaries were not located within built structures and were generally uniform, often interpreted as egalitarian, and primarily composed of plain drinking cups. However, the centerpiece of the event, the krater, was ornately decorated, at first with scenes of battle, hunting, and otherworldly creatures, later with abstract geometric designs. Thus, most commensal exchanges in these locations seemed to highlight the equal, but elite, status of the participants. These Early Iron Age trends changed dramatically during the second half of the eighth century BCE. Not only do we see the construction of monumental temples and built structures to house these events, but we also see a change in the types of equipment used, as well as a division between ornate and plain wares. Unfortunately, the number of sanctuaries with excavated and published levels dating to the eighth century is exceedingly small. Glimpses at these contexts are often offered at many regional sanctuaries (e.g., in preliminary reports or through a handful of sherds) but are not complete enough to provide any interpretations. Focus is therefore placed on two sanctuaries, which provide the most complete picture of eighth-century changes to commensal events, Isthmia in the Corinthia and Iria on the island of Naxos (for an extensive review of the evidence for commensal events at sanctuaries in the eighth century, see Wecowski 2014, 159–187).

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Built structures for large-scale commensal events can be identified at a handful of sanctuaries dating to the early Archaic era. At first, these structures were probably made of wood with a paved floor, perhaps one area receiving more attention (raised, an awning) than the majority. Later, these structures would be formalized into built dining halls called hestiatoria where public, communal, or religious feasts would take place (see Schmitt Pantel 2011, 209–221, 312–313 and Euripides’ Ion 1128–1170). At the sanctuary at Isthmia, mid-late eighth-century architectural changes include the construction of a separate dining area. Within this area, was a terrace (East Terrace I) that included a sheltered area (Morgan 1994, 125–126). This constructed division of space might signal a change from equality to formalization of divisions among festival attendees. Similarly, at the sanctuary of Iria on the Greek island of Naxos, what was once an open-air context for dining became a built, divided space. The second temple, built during the second half of the eighth century, housed ritual dining on a smaller scale while the masses presumably dined outside. Later, in the early seventh century, dining moved to two buildings, one apsidal and one rectangular, where seated and reclined dining (the latter would have been trendy) perhaps took place together (Wecowski 2014, 172). The division of space over the course of about 100 years changed but nevertheless retained a sense of in versus out both physically and metaphorically. At the end of the seventh century, however, we see the construction of permanent hestiatoria buildings. Along with changes to the physical contexts of sanctuary feasts, we can see a distinct change in the types and quality of equipment used by the participants. Just as the architecture suggests a division between the few and the many, so too do the ceramic drinking wares indicate a smaller amount of elaborate, highquality wares in contrast to a large amount of plain, standard cups. At Isthmia, the built, sheltered terrace contained remains of fewer and higher quality ceramic vessels, whereas the remaining area contained mostly standardized vessels. Morgan (in Gebhard and Hemans 1992, 20) remarks that throughout the course of the eighth century at Isthmia, there was an increasing use of fine decorated pottery in ritual activity. Similarly, evidence from Iria on Naxos suggests a change from deposition of locally produced black-glazed kyathos vessels in the third-quarter of the eighth century to rich ceramic forms such as kraters, skyphoi, and kantharoi. Many were found ritually destroyed or ceremonially deposited in a nearby stream (Simantoni-Bournia 2002, 277–278). Based on these two examples and the available evidence from other sanctuaries (see Wecowski 2014, 159–187), it seems that a general trend toward the use of elaborate drinking vessels started to emerge in the first part of the Archaic era. The increase in elaborate skyphoi and painted kraters might reflect greater display by wealthier participants within the context of a sacred space, suggesting the use of commensal exchange as competition on neutral ground. At the same

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time, the division of space between a smaller, exclusive area and a larger dining area highlights the social distinctions in place at this time. The evidence available for feasting at sanctuaries in the Early Iron Age seems to indicate an elite, perhaps egalitarian, situation (see Chapter 5). By the end of the eighth century, commensality at sanctuaries seems to have been available to a wider section of the population from which elites had to distinguish themselves by means of space and objects (Morgan 1994). This division also suggests that wine and oil (oil perhaps used for anointing oneself and “freshening up”) were available, in special religious feasting contexts, to a wider selection of the population. It is impossible to say, however, who these people were and just how wide the selection would have been. As in later Archaic and Classical eras, it is unlikely that everyone participated in the exchange of these commodities. Nevertheless, the changes visible to commensal exchanges in sanctuary contexts suggest that oil and wine might have, in some way, decreased in value as they became more available. At the same time, however, it is clear that they were no less necessary for the enactment of these exchanges. In fact, the ritualization and institutionalization of religious commensal exchange would have solidified the necessity of oil and wine within these practices.

Public Feasting: The “Democratization” of Wine and Oil? Forms and characteristics of public feasting or banquets – communal dining on a large-scale within a polis – is well attested in written sources for the later Classical and Hellenistic eras and has received a good amount of scholarly attention (Schmitt Pantel 1980, 1997; Erickson 2011). In the Classical era, public drinking rooms were open to any man who had been chosen by lot to fill certain positions in the Athenian government. In some way, they were a democratic reworking of the Symposion and we know that at least two groups of magistrates, the nine archons and six junior archons, ate together.16 At Sparta, public messes, or syssitia, were limited to men and supplied by the agricultural surplus of its members (van Wees and Fisher 2015, 39). The earliest, Archaic forms of this practice, however, are more obscure. Nevertheless, evidence presented later suggests that something akin to this public or communal form of commensal exchange existed by the end of the eighth century in some settlement locations. Even in the Homeric epics there is a well-defined opposition between dining in a private house and dining in a public dining hall, a demios oikos (e.g., Odyssey XX 262–267, see Appendix A). For the Archaic era, one argument sees Early Iron Age leaders’ dwellings bifurcated over time into either sacred urban space (Mazarakis-Ainian 1997), or public dining halls (Wecowski 2014, 178). This hypothesis works relatively well in the sense that, as we saw in Chapter 5, leaders’ dwellings in the Early Iron Age took on both aspects of social communal life, sacred and profane, and mingled the

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two together under the auspices of the head of the community, whoever he was. When this social structure broke down in many areas of Greece, we see the formation of oikoi – of distinct households – which seem to have acted as a community. It is, in fact, possible to interpret some structures within early Archaic settlements as having been used for large-scale feasting. In his search for locations where early forms of Symposia might have taken place in the early Archaic era, Wecowski (2014, 159–187) highlights certain buildings within settlements that might have housed communal banquets, and specifically wine drinking activities. These buildings share a number of similar characteristics. Most are monumental, carefully built, have benches (often in apses), and are internally divided into two or three rooms. In addition, they are often located either in the center of town where a leader’s dwelling once stood, or in industrial quarters where, it is argued, much of the wealth and surplus of the community was regulated (Mazarakis-Ainian 2007). At Oropos, a community in Attica across the Euripos strait from Lefkandi and Eretria on Euboea, there are two structures that could be interpreted as communal feasting halls (Figure 6.2). The first is a large, domestic ovoid building, Building Iota, which preserves fragments of drinking vessels, cups, skyphoi, and kraters from the late eighth century BCE. Next to this structure is Building Theta, a 5 × 12 m apsidal construction erected at the end of the eighth century and continued in use into the seventh century. There is no evidence for industrial activity within, despite the fact that it is located in an industrial quarter of the settlement. Within Building Theta, drinking vessels, decorated kraters, and lekythoi were recovered. Strangely, many burials of stillborns or infants were also found under the floor of this building and in the surrounding area. It has therefore been interpreted by some as having a cultic function (Mazarakis-Ainian 2002, 161). Other scholars see a more communal aspect to the cultic nature of this structure and its associated finds (Crielaard 2007, 180–181). This has led Wecowski (2014, 178) to posit that the presence of frequent commensal activities in a neutral space within the settlement suggests a specialized designation as a communal dining hall. Across the Euripos strait, the site of Viglatouri on Euboea has produced a structure, Building A, which has tentatively been identified as a public dining hall. Dated to the Late Geometric period, Building A is oval and only slightly smaller than Building Theta at Oropos (4.90 × 9.0 m). Inside, numerous fragments of kraters, jugs, skyphoi, and two amphora bases have been found. In the surrounding area, a huge number of cups and at least ten kraters have also been found (Sapouna-Sakellaraki 1998, 64). Similar to Building Theta at Oropos, Building A was built above multiple earlier cist graves, although these appear to have been emptied of human remains (or were never intended to house them). The adjacent paved square to the north of the building was also

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6.2 Oropos. Simplified plan of metal working complex with building Theta and Iota, eighth and seventh centuries BCE. Modified from Mazarakis Ainian 2001, 154, fig. 19. Image by author

built on top of earlier graves. The whole area was cordoned off from the rest of the settlement by a stone enclosure. Building A and its associated structures have been interpreted as the location of a hero cult where feasts would take place in honor of that person (Sapouna-Sakellaraki 1998, 68–69). However, it is also possible that the commensal events taking place there were public in nature, suggesting an overlap between sacred and secular dining activities (Wecowski 2014, 182). As we have already discussed, this would not have been unusual, especially during a very transitional period, before the formal institutionalization of public banquets in the Classical era. One final example of a potential public dining space is at the nearby site of Eretria on Euboea. In the “aristocratic quarter” where the later sanctuary of Apollo Daphnephoros stands, a much earlier structure had been built. This mid-eighth century building, called the Daphnephoreion by its excavators, does not seem to have been a pre-temple of Apollo. Abundant feasting remains were recovered from inside the building dating to the Late Geometric period. On top of this structure was placed the larger apsidal hekatompedon temple in the later seventh century. The Daphnephoreion and the later hekatompedon were interpreted as a leader’s dwelling-turned-temple by Mazarakis-Ainian (2006, 195). However, Wecowski (2014, 186) adds that it might have also

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turned into a communal dining hall. Evidence for a commensal aspect of these buildings is provided by a smaller adjacent building, Building 150, added in the eighth century and coexisting with the Daphnephoreion. It has been interpreted as an elite dining hall built for such a purpose when the community outgrew the preexisting Daphnephoreion. According to Wecowski (2014, 186), Building 150 marks a change from private to communal activities at the sanctuary, even before the construction of the first hekatompedon of Apollo in the second half of the eighth century. The discovery of a large imported Attic krater (at least half a meter in diameter) found in situ sitting on a built clay platform at the end of the apse of the building solidifies this theory (Figure 6.3). The possibility that public dining and drinking halls could have existed during the eighth century fits well with the general trends observed in the changes to feasts held at regional sanctuaries. At this point, oil and wine were becoming more available to a wider section of the population. Who exactly was supplying the wine and oil for these public feasts must have varied. Certainly as the bureaucracy of the polis started to formalize and institutions were created for the purpose of supplying such public spaces, there is no doubt

6.3 Middle Geometric II Attic krater from Building 150 in the Sanctuary of Apollo Daphnephoros in Eretria (maximum diameter of the foot 50 cm). Drawing S. Verdan; courtesy of the Swiss School of Archaeology in Greece

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that wine and oil would have been collected by those in charge, perhaps as taxes or sacred surplus (e.g., the sacred olive trees discussed earlier) and distributed accordingly. At such an early time, however, it is unclear whether people wishing to dine at the public hall had to contribute a certain amount of surplus food/drink or whether someone or some group sponsored such communal commensal events. Either way, surplus oil and wine would have been necessary components of all events and were consequently exchanged within various contexts, both explicit (sponsored events) and implicit (taxes and distribution). At the same time, the formalization of public feasting events would have provided the impetus for an elite reaction through the formalization of private feasting events.

Private Feasting: Oil and Wine as Status Markers Private feasting events, small-scale restricted commensal exchange, certainly took many forms during the Classical era, and especially during the Archaic era, when dividing lines in general were perhaps more blurred. However, the private feasting event par-excellence was the Symposion, made famous in many later Classical-era texts.17 The Symposion proper was a very specific, regulated type of drinking party for a small minority of elite men. Moreover, most of our evidence for such events comes from specifically Athenian contexts (Kelly-Blazeby 2006, 18). Classical and later texts (e.g., Athenaeus VIII 265d) often mention a widespread Greek custom of each guest of the Symposion bringing contributions. Indeed, even late Archaic vase paintings show banqueters with baskets (Wecowski 2014, 68 n. 172 with references). However, not all Symposia were reciprocal banquets. Other texts suggest that Symposia could be organized at the expense of their hosts (e.g., Banquets of Plato and Xenophon). When it comes to the Archaic era, however, our evidence suggests much more nuanced variation between public and private, sacred and profane (Schmitt Pantel 1990). As mentioned earlier, Wecowski (2014) has attempted to find early sympotic events in the archaeological record of Late Geometric Greece. He defines symposia more generally, with their main features as a separation between the meal and the ensuing drinking party, a nocturnal setting, and a heightened sense of revelry amongst the participants, to put it mildly. In this way, he is able to include events characterized as private and public, small- and large-scale, elite and non-elite (Wecowski 2014, 169). Here, however, focus is solely placed on the Archaic evidence for private, restricted, and generally elite events known from the later Classical era as Symposia. This distinction is necessary because it represents a meaningful change from the previous Early Iron Age. That is to say, in the previous Early Iron Age there is little evidence for the existence of commensal exchanges independent from the leader and what

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seems to be his control on the supply of surplus foods, especially valuable, and yet necessary commodities like oil and wine. When the social structure of the Early Iron Age breaks down in some areas of Greece, and the later polis starts to come into existence we see the inception of a division between public and private, non-elite and elite, whereas previously there seems to have been only one head figure/family and the rest. The difference is relatively subtle, but the effects are far-ranging, as has already been seen in the archaeological record of feasting in sanctuaries and communal spaces. Hence, it is necessary to examine the final aspect of the repercussions of the end of the Early Iron Age and beginning of the Archaic era, the formation of exclusionary commensal exchanges. In later eras, private feasting events took place in the andron of a home, essentially the dining room, replete with couches around the walls of the room for reclining and a stand or table in the middle from which the food and drink would be served. Unfortunately, these specialized rooms within wealthy households are not archaeologically visible in any certain way until the end of the fifth century when floor mosaics highlight the locations for couches. Nevertheless, it is perhaps possible to see some indications in Archaic-era settlement remains for smaller rooms used for commensal events, although the evidence is rather ambiguous. The best example comes from the wellexcavated and published settlement of Zagora on Andros. The last phase of the settlement has been dated to 725–700 BCE and is characterized by a more compact and regular plan with elaborate residential complexes, often composed of two or more ovoid buildings and a surrounding enclosure wall. One of these residential complexes provides some good evidence for private commensal events. Unit H41 contained a permanent hearth, next to which Unit H40 contained potsherds of commensal and domestic pottery. Nearby, Units H24, H25, and H32 were used for storage and habitation, while Unit H33 has been interpreted as a courtyard (Langdon 2008, 266; Wecowski 2014, 175). Unfortunately, this site was abandoned rather methodically, so much of the household equipment was taken with the inhabitants as they left. Consequently, any interpretation of the function of rooms requires caution. Outside of archaeological remains, other Archaic-era evidence, such as iconography and text, might point to the existence of small-scale elite commensal exchange in the early Archaic era. Already, at the end of the eighth century, reclined banquet scenes have been identified on Corinthian ceramic vessels (Figure 6.4). In general, these scenes include three or four men, often bearded, who lounge on individual beds. Before them are tables with dishes and drink. Under the beds and tables are depicted dogs and stools. On the walls behind the men are diverse objects, some of which had direct connections to commensal activities, such as oinochoai, phialai, lyres, and drinking horns. Other scenes show objects not directly connected to dining, but certainly

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6.4 Attic column krater; Ptôon Painter, ca. 580–570 BCE, from Cerveteri. Louvre E 623. Photo by author

connected to elite ideology, such as armor and weapons. These very early scenes of dining, with their elite symbols, restricted number of participants, and trendy practices, might indeed signal this other, private, form of commensal events created or elaborated in opposition to the increasingly widespread participation in communal, public, or religious feasts. These scenes would be gradually replaced at the beginning of the sixth century as Attic pottery became more prevalent and, consequently, Attic scenes of Symposia proper became popular, replete with nude boys, prostitutes, and Dionysiac symbols.18 Archaic texts have also been helpful when trying to identify a private, elite type of commensal exchange. Many scholars have suggested that a large part of extant Archaic poetry, such as Archilochus, Solon, Alcaeus, and Hipponax, was created for singing within the context of a Symposion (e.g., West 1974; Vetta 1983; Bowie 1986, Bowie 1993; Irwin 2005; Clay 2016). Other ancient authors, however, suggest more inclusive contexts for recitation, such as the syssita (Tyrtaeus, Terpander, and Alcman; Bowie 1990; Nagy 1990). Even Pindar does not give primacy in his work to any of the forms of feasting, but references the dais (sacrificial banquet), xenia (meal of hospitality), and the symposion relatively equally. Since a full analysis of the forms of feasting in Archaic Greek poetry is beyond the scope of this research (for this, see Schmitt

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Pantel 1990, 1997), the following discussion concentrates on our earliest evidence that combines written and archaeological aspects. One of the earliest inscriptions in Greek ever to be found, in fact, seems to reference Symposion-style commensality. The Cup of Nestor was found at Pithekoussai, a joint Greek-Phoenician-indigenous settlement located on an island, Ischia, off the coast of modern-day Naples on the west coast of the Italian peninsula. One of the main contingents living there seems to have been Euboean traders/colonists. There, from the San Montano necropolis, a Late Geometric kotyle, dated between 725 and 710 BCE, was found with an inscription in Chalcidian (Euboean) script. The inscription has been translated: “I am Nestor’s cup, good to drink from. | Whoever drinks from it, straightaway that man | will be seized by the desire belonging to fairly crowned Aphrodite.” (CEG I, no. 454 = Meiggs-Lewis, no. 1 = SEG XIV, no. 604). The details of this cup’s discovery, its characteristics, and its interpretation have all been well addressed by others and need not be reiterated here (see Buchner and Russo 1955; Watkins 1976; Murray 1994; West 1994; Bartoně k and Buchner 1995; Faraone 1996; Wecowski 2014, 127–139). Based on this inscription alone, many scholars have hypothesized the existence, already in the eighth century, of the formal characteristics of later Classical Symposia. Most recently, Wecowski (2014, 171) states that the symposion was “a well-established social custom in the LG period” based on the inscription’s references to competitive male displays combined with erotic sentiments (Wecowski 2014, 138). The funerary context of the cup, despite the richness of the tomb itself (Tomb 168 had twenty-eight items; Pithekoussai I, 212–223), does not provide conclusive information as to the original context of its use: was it owned by an elite member of Pithekoussan society who used this cup during elaborate, exclusive drinking parties, or was it owned by someone who would have attended public dining halls? It is impossible to say for sure, but the fact that the Cup of Nestor has some of the earliest written Greek in existence, and in poetic verse, might indicate that the owner was no common man.19 One other type of private commensal event deserves mention: the wedding feast. Although there is very little Archaic-era evidence for wedding feasts and vase paintings do not tend to depict the wedding feast itself, slightly later literary evidence suggests that wedding feasts could be quite large undertakings (as they often are today) hosted by private individuals.20 Wine played a very prominent role in these occasions and, unlike the typical symposion, there is increasing evidence (although mostly later in date) that both men and women dined and drank together at these occasions.21 Later textual sources even joke about this mixed situation, often at the expense of women’s propriety, suggesting that women “soak up wine like sand” (Menander, Dyskolos 949). Although wedding feasts would have been a less frequent occasion, they nevertheless provide

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another context where private individuals were supplying large amounts of wine, at least, at a private event. Taken together, the archaeological, iconographic, and textual evidence suggests that already by the end of the eighth century, some form of exclusive, elite feasting took place where wine drinking was a major aspect of the event. For our purposes here, it is significant that by this point in time, elites would have been producing surplus quantities of oil and wine in order to host such events or to contribute to such events. That is to say, no longer was the production and storage of surplus oil and wine in the hands of a single person or group. Rather, the very existence of elite gatherings, at the exclusion of the general public, suggests that production of surplus oil and wine, even on a smaller scale, became relatively widespread and individualistic. In other words, whereas public dining halls and regional sanctuaries might have been supplied by communal surplus production, elite gatherings attest to surplus production and exchange of a very personal nature. Indeed, this aspect of early Archaic commensal exchange fits well with what we know about the contemporary production of oil and wine, as discussed earlier and made explicit in Archaic literature, such as Hesiod’s Works and Days.

In-between Public and Private: Funerary Feasts One last category of feast present in the archaeological record of the Archaic era consists of commensal events held within cemeteries or near/in specific tombs, a hallmark of Greek funerary culture. Within each chapter of this book we have traced the changing forms of funerary feasts, dating back to Bronze Age Crete, if not long before. During the Archaic era, funerary feasts once again became formalized with the addition of built structures within which the events would have taken place. A built platform at Asine is dated to the late eighth century and was placed within a prominent Geometric cemetery on the Barbouna Hill. Three circular stone platforms were set on a built and delineated terrace. Among these platforms was a deposit of Late Geometric pottery (forty vessels) that had been broken on the spot: amphoras, oinochoai, one-handled cups, and a krater. In addition, a hearth with burnt earth and bones of sheep or goat was associated with coarse and handmade cooking pottery. Here, it is likely that ritual eating and drinking was associated with the circles and the funerary context, as well as perhaps the performance of libations (Hägg 1983, 189–193). At the same time, there seems to have been a trend toward the construction of house-like buildings in some cemeteries where feasts honoring the recently deceased and perhaps also more distant ancestors took place. The exact nature of these feasts, whether they were restricted to immediate family or were more open to the community as a whole, is relatively unclear. There are some indications that both forms existed and perhaps varied regionally. In Athens,

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for example, Building A in the Tholos Cemetery of the Agora appears to have been used as a dining hall. The remnants of many feasts, including dining and drinking equipment, as well as food remains, suggests that it was used for multiple occasions. The small size of the building and its location near clusters of graves belonging to multiple generations of one or two clans, might suggest that this particular building was used for more private, family events, rather than large-scale communal feasts (Wecowski 2014, 181). In contrast, a Late Geometric apsidal building in the Barbourna cemetery at Asine has more than ninety vessels from in and around the structure, consisting mainly of cups and jugs (Mazarakis-Ainian 1997, 71 Building S). Similarly, though more controversial in nature, is a late eighth-century building at the Academy at Athens. Located in a cemetery, layers of sacrificial debris and miniature vessels suggest a cultic function. In addition, nearby deposits consist of more than 200 Early Geometric kantharoi and 40 Late Geometric vessels, respectively (MazarakisAinian 1997, 142; Fox 2012, 88–89). Despite these properties, the explicitly funerary nature of the Late Geometric building has come into question (Mazarakis-Ainian and Alexandridou 2011). What we can see, therefore, is the continuation of some form of feasting as a central aspect of the funerary ceremony throughout the geometric era and into the Archaic. Based on an analysis of the patterns in types of pots present in tombs of the Kerameikos cemetery in Athens, Belletier (2003) highlights the fact that during the seventh century drinking cups became particularly prominent, compared to pouring vessels (Figure 6.5). However, he is quick to note that the banquet is not an eighth-century fad or a symbol of new values manifested primarily in the seventh century, but rather the banquet is “a practice which appears, on the contrary, as an obligatory stage of the funeral ceremony for which the Greeks do not conceive the absence” (Belletier 2003, 81).22 As another type of feast associated with the funerary realm, tomb cults became relatively popular in the Archaic era. Cults associated with specific tombs are not new. In fact, the presence of cults around ancient ruins, including cemeteries, has been pointed out as far back as the Bronze Age (e.g., Prent 2005). During the first part of the Archaic era, however, tomb cults surge in visibility and seem to take on an extra dimension of importance. The defining characteristic of these tomb cults is the presence of ritual feasting deposits around specific tombs that would have been considered ancient relative to the eighth-century context (Morris 1988, 755; de Polignac 1995[1984], 140; Whitley 1995, 58; Alcock 2002, 146). Many of these deposits are found within stone-built constructions in and around the ancient tombs. For example, at Prosymna, thirteen out of fifty-two tombs showed evidence of ritual feasting/drinking. Tomb XXVI had a “nest” of Late Geometric drinking ware at the back of the chamber (Blegen 1937a, 93; Antonaccio 1995, 63) and Tomb IX had a layer of black earth at the back of the chamber and carbonized matter around which

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70

Drinking vessels

Mixing vessels

Serving vessels

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Perfume vessels

Transport vessels

Percentage of total offerings

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6.5 Percentage of drinking, mixing, serving, pouring, perfume, and transport vessels within the total assemblage of offerings found in Attic tombs during the time period 950–480 BCE. After Belletier 2003, 76–77, fig. 3. Image by author

votives were placed: four bronze vessels, four coarse-ware vessels, a jug, and a cup (Blegen 1937a, 164–165). The purpose of these cults must have varied, but their primary function was to connect contemporary society with a form of power located in the past (Alcock 2002, 146). In addition, for settlements attempting to assert their claims to territory, tomb cults served as a way to associate the living inhabitants with those people who had once occupied the land. There is no evidence that any of the tombs where these feasting events took place had known individuals within or that they belonged to specific heroes or ancestors. Instead, their anonymity ensured participants’ ability to project whatever persona or qualities necessary for that moment. It could be conceived, for example, that honoring the people who resided within the ancient tombs through commensal events would serve to appease the dead and incur their good favor as protectors (Whitley 1995, 58).

Feasting Conclusions Overall, then, Archaic-era commensal exchange can be characterized by diversification and intensification. Whereas feasting in Early Iron Age contexts seems to have been confined to large central buildings, leaders’ dwellings, or a very few regional cult sites, Archaic commensal events took place at very diverse locations. Some of these locations, like central buildings and regional sanctuaries, continued from the past. Others, however, like private elite

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symposia, were a relatively new phenomenon. New, here, in the sense that these events do not seem to have the same exclusivity of performance that they once carried. That is, in the Archaic era, literary, iconographic, and archaeological evidence suggests that many wealthy landowners were able to create enough surplus produce, including oil and wine, to host their neighbors, at least, if not many more. We can imagine that these private events were a certain reaction to the inclusivity of dining halls and temple feasts. It is certain, though, that by the end of the Archaic era, as the population of Greece exploded and subsequently moved off to distant regions of the Mediterranean, far greater numbers of people, at multiple levels of society, had access to oil and wine at various events on a more frequent basis than the centuries before. GIFT EXCHANGE: DEITIES, DECEASED, AND THE LIVING

In the early Archaic period, olive oil and wine maintained their high value as offerings to divinities and to the dead. Certain actions, like libations at tomb contexts, carried over from the past and continued to rely on oil and wine as necessary commodities. At the same time, new or formalized contexts for offering oil and wine appeared at both sanctuaries and cemeteries. In addition, the early Archaic era does present some potential evidence for gifts to the living, that is, gifts between elite individuals or families that are associated with wine or oil. As in the previous chapters, non-commensal gift exchange is a more difficult mode to detect in the archaeological record and varies immensely over time and space. We are therefore still beholden to the regions of Greece that have been most explored archaeologically and published thoroughly. Thankfully, one of these regions is Attica where much of our information about commensal exchange and commercial exchange derives. Other areas that have produced some interesting regional variety are Euboea and the Argolid. This section presents the evidence available for gift exchange, focusing on the early Archaic era as much as possible, with a few necessary forays into later Archaic and Classical practices and trends. Focus is placed on archaeological remains rather than written sources, although at times it is useful to cite contemporary and later authors. Appendix A addresses the role of oil and wine in non-commensal gift exchanges within the Homeric epics, so these works will be referenced minimally in this section.

Gifts to the Gods The primary non-commensal gifts given to the gods involving oil and wine were libations. The act of pouring libations certainly existed throughout the eras this book addresses. The Archaic era, however, is the first time that we have clear evidence of this act, though mostly written. The written sources

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make clear that by this time in Greek history, “invocation and prayer are inseparable from libation . . . in order to supplicate the gods aright at all, a libation is therefore required” (Burkert 1985, 71; e.g., Il. 6.259; 24.287; Od. 3.41 f.; 7.163; 13.50 f). The Greek poetic word used for the giving of oil and wine (less frequently honey, milk, or water) was leibein or loibe. In prose the words spendein or sponde and cheein or choe were more prevalent and seem to have denoted different types of libations or occasions where the type of vessel used played a major role. The verb spendein is associated primarily with a wine libation where the wine is gently poured from a hand-held jug or bowl. A sponde was performed whenever wine was drunk and is a fixed formula in Homer (Iliad 9.177, six times in the Odyssey; Burkert 1985, 70; see Appendix A). When it came to wine drinking during commensal events, there was always a moment when a sponde occurred. During the later Archaic and Classical eras, we know that libations happened during symposia and followed a relatively standard formula. The “three kraters” libation involved successive offerings to deities each time a new krater of wine was mixed. First, to Zeus and the Olympians, then to the Heroes, and finally to Zeus Teleios. Alternatively, you could begin with a libation to the Agathos Daimon and end with Hermes (Burkert 1985, 70–71). It is interesting, however, that we rarely find artistic images of this moment during the symposion despite the popularity of such scenes in general. Lissarrague (1995) has collected a handful of images that might refer to the sponde during a symposion but noted the ambiguity of most scenes. A couple of fragments of cups from the Athenian acropolis show a reclining man holding a phiale (open dish associated with libations) and speaking the words “Ζευ Σοτερ”; while another fragment depicts a kantharos with the inscription “Σπενδο τοι δαιμονι τοι αγαθοι” (Athens Acr. 434; Lissarrague 1995, 128, fig. 2). Instead of being explicit, the relationship between libations and wine consumption is more often depicted through association. Many libation scenes are located on pots generally designated for holding wine, such as amphoras, kraters, stamnoi, and cups. Most of these images show both men and women holding oinochoai along with various cups or phialai, often near or over altars, or pouring the wine onto the ground (e.g., Louvre G54; see Lissarrague 1995 with references). A choe libation involved the complete tipping and emptying of a larger vessel, which may be held or may stand on the ground. This type of libation was most often associated with the dead or chthonic gods (Burkert 1985, 70). The lekythos vessel was intended primarily for oil libations of this kind and they are one of the most frequently found vessels in ritual contexts, especially funerary, to which we will return shortly (Burkert 1985, 194). Other libations of this kind involved wine and were particular to events or the deities invoked. For example, Pindar mentions a situation where before embarking on

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a voyage, it was necessary to mix wine in kraters and empty them into the sea along with prayers and vows (Pind. Pyth. 4.193–200; Thuc. 6.32.1 f.). Another gift of oil and wine given to the gods was the “first fruits” offering. This gift, however, is only attested in written sources and constituted the offering of first bits of food whether acquired by hunting, fishing, gathering, or agriculture (Burkert 1985, 66; see also Jim 2014). Later written sources of the Classical era mention bringing various tithes of agricultural produce to various deities. For example, Xenophon describes his first fruits offerings to his Artemis sanctuary, which were subsequently redistributed “by the goddess” during a festival: “to those encamped in tents the goddess gave barley meal, bread, wine, nuts, and olives, and a portion of the sacrificed animals from the sacred herd and a portion of the hunted animals” (Xenophon Anabasis 5.3.9). In this case, “the tithe is transformed into the gift which the goddess in turn offers to her guests at the festival” (Burkert 1985, 67). This particular example highlights the complicated nature of gift exchange and the many “misrecognitions” involved with the giving and receiving of gifts.23 At the same time, it highlights the fact that these first fruits might be quite substantial and often included grapes and olives and their liquid products. The co-occurrence of oil and wine is particularly prominent in another example from Arcadia. In this case, the first fruits offering stands on its own in contrast to a commensal context where sacrifice would be involved. In Phigaleia in Arcadia, offerings were made from “the fruits of cultivated trees and especially the fruit of the vine, along with honeycombs and raw wool still full of its grease. These they place on the altar . . . then they pour oil over them” (Pausanias 8.42.11). Although these written sources are much later than the early Archaic era (fourth century BCE and second century CE, respectively), they nevertheless point to a long-held tradition of giving a portion of olives/oil and grapes/wine to the gods that was a necessary exchange for agricultural success.

Gifts to the Dead For trends in non-commensal gifts given to the dead, grave goods remain our best source of information. The quantity, quality, and type of grave goods differed between settlements, between cemeteries, and even between burial types. The cemeteries in Athens, and especially the Kerameikos cemetery, provide the most complete dataset for analyzing the role of surplus oil and wine within these offerings during the Archaic era. In Archaic inhumation graves the offerings were normally inside the burial pit and sometimes included rich offerings, though some offerings were placed outside in special pits or ditches. In contrast, the cremation graves often had no, or very poor, furnishings, while the offerings were placed in special deposits, offering places, or offering ditches, apart from, or associated closely with, the grave. This change perhaps

GIFT EXCHANGE: DEITIES, DECEASED, AND THE LIVING

indicates a shift in emphasis of the burial rites to after the burial pit has been closed (Kurtz and Boardman 1971, 71, 75–76; Sourvinou-Inwood 1983, 47;). When it comes to the offerings themselves, the Kerameikos cemetery presents some general trends over the course of the Archaic era (Figure 6.5). Belletier (2003) has calculated the relative prevalence of each type of grave good over time. In the Kerameikos cemetery in Athens, tablewares make up 70 percent of the tomb offerings in the eighth and seventh centuries. Drinking cups, in particular, rise from 5 percent of the total assemblage from the cemetery between 850 and 800 BCE to more than 50 percent between 800 and 710 BCE, remaining above 30 percent until 550 BCE. Pouring vessels follow a similar trend. Interestingly, kraters, too, became relatively more prevalent from 750 to 600 BCE, whereas none had been attested before that point (Belletier 2003). Bohen (1997, 54–55) has noted that the type of krater changed over time as well. The standard krater disappeared abruptly from the repertoire of Athenian vase shapes before the end of the eighth century and was replaced by new forms of kraters, most often used as grave markers in the seventh century. Similarly, perfumed oil and unguent containers jumped from 20 to 60 percent of the material from the eighth to the end of the seventh century (Belletier 2003, 76–77). During this time, the horse pyxis, one of the more prevalent types of pyxides in the previous Early Iron Age, disappeared entirely before the end of the eighth century (Bohen 1997, 54–55). These trends suggest that, in Athens at least, deposition of pottery related to wine drinking, and perhaps wine itself, increased dramatically during the second half of the eighth century and into the seventh. If the pouring vessels found within the graves were full, then this would signal a significant increase in the amount of surplus oil and wine used as gifts to the dead. Of course, the pouring vessels might have been full and then emptied as a libation to the deceased before being placed within the tomb. As mentioned earlier, the pouring of libations for the dead was a standard practice and necessarily included wine and oil. A later classical inscription highlights not only the ubiquity of such practices, but also the great amount of surplus allotted for libations and grave gifts. A funerary law from Iulis on the island of Keos dating to second half of the fifth century [SIG3 1218] was intended to limit ostentation at a funeral: “Bring not more than three choes of wine to the tomb and not more than one chous of olive oil, and bring back the vessels” (Dillon and Garland 2010, 105). In the case of the early Archaic era in Athens, it seems that not only were people bringing more than that amount of oil or wine, but they were indeed leaving the vessels within or near the tomb as offerings.

Gifts to the Living Archaic literary evidence presents the only solid evidence for oil and wine used as gifts given from one elite person to another. Although this is a topic

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addressed in the Appendix, it is worth mentioning one example here. In the Odyssey, Odysseus gives Ismarian wine to the Cyclops Polyphemos that had been given to Odysseus as a gift by Maro the priest of Apollo (Book 9, 195–215). In the Homeric epics, we also have evidence for objects associated with wine drinking exchanged as gifts. The most prominent example is the silver krater given to Telemachus by Menelaus who had received it from Phaidimos, king of the Sidonians (a.k.a. Phoenicians; Book 15, 115–120). This exchange of objects related to wine drinking is perhaps also visible in the archaeological record. Coldstream (1983, 2009) has argued that a handful of impressively decorated Attic kraters found in elite Cypriot tombs were originally given as gifts during the person’s life. The most complete example is an Athenian pedestalled krater dating to the Middle Geometric II period that was found in tomb I of the Salamis cemetery along with twenty Attic skyphoi and twelve pendent-semicircle vessels from the northern Cyclades. Coldstream, following Desborough (1979, 122), suggests that this drinking set represents two separate gifts from people living in the Aegean (Coldstream 1983, 200). Perhaps the most famous example of a possible gift is the Cesnola krater found at Kourion on Cyprus. Dated to the late eighth century, this krater is Euboean in origin and extravagantly ornate. Although impossible to confirm, Coldstream is resolute in his interpretation: “It surely came to Kourion as a gift, presented by some Euboean nobleman to grace the banquets of a Cypriot prince, with the capacity to entertain a large gathering” (Coldstream 1983, 206). Similar ornate Athenian vessels have been found in Samaria in Israel, Tyre, Hamath on the Orontes, and even Huelva in Iberia. A few other examples come from areas closer to Attica. Tombs on Crete have produced several ornate Attic vessels that might represent direct connections between people living on the island and those on the mainland. One example is from Tomb 219 of the Knossos North Cemetery. There, a middle Geometric II Attic flat pyxis, low-footed krater with lid with an oinochoe on top, and large belly-handled amphora (104 cm high) were discovered (Coldstream 1983, 204–205). Although it is clear that not all of these represent direct gifts from Athenians, Coldstream (1983, 203) stresses that not only were these kraters originally destined for elite consumption in Athens, but they also continued to represent elite society despite being relocated to the other end of the Mediterranean. It is also important that these objects had an explicit association with wine and oil and its exchange. It is, of course, impossible to say with any certainty whether these objects were in fact given as gifts. The tantalizing anecdotes from the Homeric epics can only provide a glimpse into what might have been a relatively common mode of exchange within which oil and wine played a significant role.

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COMMERCIAL EXCHANGE: REGIONAL AMPHORAS AND MEDITERRANEAN NETWORKS

The second half of the eighth century marks the point when multiple regions of the Greek world simultaneously started producing their own versions of relatively standardized amphoras for the transport of bulk liquid commodities like oil and wine. Although it is possible that surplus was being disposed of through other means, the production of a specialized amphora shape necessarily means that the region produced large amounts of surplus destined for export, since other types of containers would have been sufficient for daily or even local use. The shape of an amphora is particularly conducive to long-distance maritime travel and developed a unique technological trajectory that emphasized this quality. Indeed, the production of amphoras themselves is connected to the production of surplus liquid commodity and the decision of a political community (Gras 2010, 111–112). Different city-states in the Greek world seem to have initially, at least, produced their own distinctive shapes so that presumably a jar from a particular city would have been recognizable in the marketplace (Koehler 1996, 325). Successful transmission of information by the amphora depended on the specificity with which its shape or associated markings can be identified with a particular producing region. Lawall (1995) uses the term regionalism to express this relationship. Regionalism of a given amphora is defined both by the degree to which that amphora’s shape is unique to one geographical region and by the physical extent of that region (Lawall 1995, 14). A specific reference to one city and its territory by a given amphora type cannot be assumed (see also Papadopoulos and Paspalas 1999). As we have seen in Chapter 5, this regionalism was already forming in the ninth century as North Aegean amphoras became more prevalent and standardized. It has been further conjectured that each community had one type of jar for oil and one for wine in the Archaic period (Gras 1987, 41). Although this practice has been attested in at least one case (Chalcis on Euboea), we do not have any indication that this was a widespread phenomenon. Indeed, there is more evidence to suggest that amphoras, especially in the early Archaic era, were multipurpose, as had probably been the case throughout the pre-Classical eras in general. Rather than presenting a detailed history of the production and distribution of all Archaic Greek amphoras within this section, it is more important to understand the transition from small-scale commercial exchange in the Early Iron Age to large-scale long-distance exchange in the Archaic era. To this end, focus is placed primarily on the first half of the Archaic era and, consequently, the first Greek amphoras to be produced and exported on a large scale. At the same time that Group II North Aegean amphoras were being mass-produced in northern Greece, filled with oil or wine, and widely distributed throughout the north Aegean and Tyrrhenian seas, certain areas of southern Greece began to produce their own versions of liquid transport containers. In particular,

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0

10 cm

6.6 Early Corinthian A amphora. Knapp and Demesticha 2016, 47a. Drawing by I. Katsouri (after Vandiver and Koehler 1986: fig. 7B); courtesy of A. B. Knapp and S. Demesticha

Corinth produced a handmade transport amphora (Figure 6.6), while Attica and Euboea started to produce and export the “SOS” amphora during the middle of the eighth century (Figure 6.7). Like their northern counterpart, they are large, bulbous containers designed to carry substantial amounts of liquid commodities. Besides that one similarity, however, SOS and Corinthian A amphoras derive from entirely different traditions. After Group II North Aegean amphoras were discontinued around 700 BCE, both southern types of amphoras continued to be quite prominent in Archaic Mediterranean markets, especially in the west. The reasons for this renewed desire to bottle and export surplus agricultural product are not known. There are, however, a few social and economic trends happening at this time in Greek history that may have been factors contributing to the desire and ability to produce, bottle, and ship surplus in distinctive transport containers. In what follows, the major characteristics of SOS and Corinthian A amphoras are briefly outlined, then aspects of their local and long-distance distribution are discussed, as well as their relationship to the commercial exchange of oil and wine more broadly.

Introduction of New Regional Containers for Commercial Oil/Wine Exchange The archaeological record of the second half of the eighth century suggests a relatively sudden production of new types of amphoras in Greece. As

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6.7 Early Athenian SOS amphora from Phaleron. National Archaeological Museum, Athens no. 14489. Photo by author

mentioned earlier, the earliest examples were produced in central Greece and immediately shipped abroad to over 150 locations (Map 6.2; Pratt 2015). Production of the large, “SOS” amphora started in the latter half of the eighth century BCE and was derived predominantly from the local fine-ware amphora tradition, although there are some features in both decoration and shape that might suggest a link to North Aegean amphoras (Figure 6.7; see Pratt 2015). SOS amphoras were produced in both Attica and Euboea, where a Chalcidian variation has also been identified (Jones 1986, 706–712). Which area developed the shape is up for debate (Gras 1988, 293; Pratt 2015, 217–220). Like the North Aegean amphora before it, the SOS amphora should perhaps be regarded as a regional amphora, not linked specifically to Athens or any other polis. Despite this regional style, however, it is clear that SOS amphoras originating from Attica were by far the most commonly exported outside of Greece: out of 141 sites with SOS amphoras, only 17 sites have identified a possible Euboean example (Map 6.2; Pratt 2015, fig. 7). The pioneering work of Johnston and Jones (1978) demonstrated not only the existence of these multiple production locations, but also the great variation in decoration, size, and shape over their 100-year lifespan. Both variations of SOS amphoras are wheel-made, painted, and quite large, with bulbous bodies

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278 map 6.2 Distribution map of SOS amphoras within the Mediterranean, with provenance distinguished. Image by author

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and a tall foot. Their name derives from the distinctive design frequently, though not always, painted on their necks, which resembles a sigma-omicronsigma. In addition, Chalcidian versions seem to have their own variation of neck decoration (Johnston and Jones 1978, 111, 133). Between their initial production and their discontinuation, SOS amphoras evolved to the extent that it is relatively straightforward to determine the date of a specific pot based on its morphology and decoration (Johnston and Jones 1978, 133; Pratt 2015, 214–215). The contents of SOS amphoras are debated. While it is generally assumed that they contained olive oil, there are a few indications that they could have also contained wine. One such indication is found on the François vase where the god Dionysos carries an SOS amphora on his back (Figure 6.8; Docter 1991). In addition, a seventh-century Attic oenochoe, or wine pitcher, has a painted image of a large amphora in the shape of an SOS (though without the “SOS” marking on its neck; Young, R 1938 p. 417 also Foxhall 2007, 18, fig. 1.6). It has been speculated that perhaps SOS amphoras were initially used for

6.8 Detail of the François Vase (Museo Archeologico, Florence) with Dionysos carrying an SOS-like amphora on his shoulder. Image by Chelsey Gareau

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wine, but were then relegated to oil after Solon’s agricultural reforms, discussed earlier. But it seems more likely that these amphoras were multipurpose and could have been used for both commodities, as has been the trend for most preClassical transport containers. After the end of the seventh century BCE, SOS amphoras were gradually replaced by the “à la brosse” amphora, which was not exported in large numbers and was discontinued by the fifth century BCE. The SOS/à la brosse amphora type became the ancestor of the famous Panathenaic amphora (Valavanis 1986; Johnston 2007; Tiverios 2007). Although Panathenaic amphoras are found in small numbers throughout the Mediterranean, its primary purpose was not that of a commercial transport container. Indeed, after the SOS, Athens never again produced its own commercial amphora. The exact reasons for this secession are unknown. Around the same time as the SOS, or slightly later, Corinth started producing its own transport amphora (Figure 6.6). Derived from the common storage amphora of the region, its flat base was transformed into a distinctive pointed toe for seaborne trade (Demesticha and Pratt 2016). Unlike SOS amphoras, Corinthian amphoras were handmade and undecorated. Following Farnsworth (1964, 224–225; 1970, 10–11), Whitbread (1995, 255–346) confirmed the origin of Corinthian amphoras, based on their distinctive fabric with mudstone inclusions endemic to the regions around Acrocorinth. Koehler’s (1981) research has defined multiple versions of Corinthian amphoras, the earliest being the Corinthian A, followed by the Corinthian A’ in the last quarter of the sixth century BCE and the Corinthian B amphora later still. Because the questions addressed here are concerned with the early part of the Archaic period, focus is placed only on the Corinthian A amphora. Work by Sourisseau (2006) at the Sicilian cemetery of CamarinaRifriscolaro has identified six types within the Corinthian A designation. Types 1 and 2 are the earliest and are in use until just after 580 BCE, when Type 3 comes into use until around 540 BCE, and so on. Based on the quality of the vessel’s fabric, the content of Corinthian A amphoras has been assumed to be olive oil. Later Corinthian amphoras, however, seem to have held wine, which suggests that the region produced a surplus of both commodities. Why, then, would it be unlikely that earlier Corinthian amphoras, like SOS, could have been used for exchange of both commodities? Ultimately, since both oil and wine were essential elements of Greek life, as this book has argued, the contents of amphoras as one or the other is relatively unimportant. What is important is that a sizeable surplus of both commodities had been produced to the extent that they were used within large-scale commercial exchanges. Due to the longer lifespan of Corinthian amphoras, they are often assumed to be the most prevalent Greek amphoras found abroad, at least in the central and western Mediterranean. A detailed study of their early distribution alongside SOS amphoras, however, suggests a more nuanced distribution pattern

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(Map 6.3; Pratt 2016b). Indeed, it seems that SOS amphoras are more prominent in the archaeological records of eighth and early seventh-century contexts, whereas Corinthian amphoras only became more prevalent as SOS amphoras were discontinued. Nevertheless, the distribution patterns of both shapes suggest continued local and regional networks of commercial exchange of oil and wine, along with the exponential increase in the complexity of longdistance networks.

Continuity and Expansion of Local and Regional Networks from the Early Iron Age The beginning of the Archaic era marks a point when local and regional networks in central and southern Greece increase in complexity. As discussed in Chapters 4 and 5, local commercial networks were maintained after the palatial collapse and throughout the Early Iron Age. Oil and wine surplus were included in these commercial networks as settlements interacted with each other on a relatively small scale, often using local domestic containers, like table amphoras and hydrias, or small decorated containers like stirrup jars, alabastra,

map 6.3 Comparison of quantities of Corinthian A and SOS amphoras in Sicily, dated to the eighth and seventh centuries BCE. Pratt 2016b, fig. 4, table 1 . Image by author

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jugs, aryballoi, and lekythoi. By the second half of the eighth century, local and regional distributions of SOS and Corinthian A amphoras, along with evidence for local wine shops (and probably oil as well), suggest an expansion of commercial exchange in oil and wine within and between regions. The widespread distribution of Attic SOS amphoras within Attica itself suggests that they were used as containers of surplus oil and wine for commercial sale and were reused, perhaps sold, as burial containers. In central Greece and the Peloponnese, SOS amphoras are found at sixteen sites. Within Athens, at least thirty-four were found in the Athenian Agora, where many have incised marks on the handles and shoulders (for graffiti on SOS amphoras more generally, see Johnston and Jones 1978 within an update in Pratt 2015). Research conducted on later Classical amphoras of the Athenian Agora has convincingly demonstrated the association of similar markings on amphoras with the presence of kapeleia, or taverns, where wine would be sold “by the kotyle” (Lawall 2000). The practice of selling wine in smaller amounts to individuals was a widespread phenomenon, as attested by both epigraphic and iconographic evidence. An inscription from Thasos in the north Aegean is part of the regulation of the wine trade. This inscription incorporates a ban on kotulizein, prohibiting wine being sold by the kotyle or “breaking the bulk” (Davidson 1997, 392). In addition, an amphora by the Princeton Painter depicts a scene of wine-selling on its reverse including two buyers, one with a wineskin and one with a pitcher, and a seller. That a similar practice existed in Archaic Athens is perhaps attested by the presence of similar markings on SOS amphoras (Davidson 1997, 54; Kelly Blazeby 2006, 36). It may not be a coincidence that the earliest standardized amphoras produced in Attica were simultaneously used for local commercial exchange of their contents. In addition to their use for local commercial exchange of oil and wine, SOS amphoras and Corinthian A amphoras seem to have been caught up in exchange between nearby regions. First, Athens and Corinth themselves seem to have had a close commercial relationship. The Corinthian handmade coarse-ware amphora is distinctive as one of the first imports to Athens after the Mycenaean period in the second quarter of the eighth century BCE. Brann (1962, 28) describes this shape as the “first herald” of a flood of Corinthian imports that account for a large proportion of the ceramic contents of most abandoned water wells by the last quarter of the eighth century BCE, lasting until the sixth century BCE when imports decrease dramatically. In turn, fragments of Attic SOS amphoras have been found in most excavated areas of Archaic Corinth. Farther afield, early Archaic SOS and Corinthian amphoras have been found at many sites in northern Greece including Methone, Mende, and Thasos. Although SOS amphoras have been found at sixteen sites in northern Greece, most are later versions suggesting an increase in commercial connection between northern Greece and southern Greece over the course of

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the Archaic period. In contrast, SOS amphoras have been identified at only four Aegean islands (Crete, Rhodes, Keos, and Thera), all of which date to the second half of the Archaic era (Pratt 2014, maps 12 and 17).

Establishment of Large-Scale, Long-Distance Commercial Exchange The most significant change in the pattern of commercial exchange of oil and wine visible through amphora distribution is the exponential expansion of the Early Iron Age network in the second half of the eighth century to include places as distant as the Atlantic coast of Iberia and the eastern coast of the Black Sea (Map 6.2). Before delving into the patterns produced by early Archaic Greek amphora distributions, it is necessary first to mention that the interpretation of these data requires caution. To begin with, the number of amphoras from each site, even the largest collection (a few hundred), is the same size as an average shipload of amphoras in classical antiquity (on occasion a few thousand are reported, e.g., Demosthenes, Against Lakritos–35. 10; Millett 1983). In addition, the representative sample from each site is significantly disparate as recording methods, reporting, and extent of the excavations all vary. Thus, it must be said that these data may be used only as general indicators of the prevalence of one amphora type or another at a site. Such shortcomings, however, can be mitigated by taking into account the prevalence of SOS and Corinthian A amphoras relative to other amphoras, such as indigenous and regional types, and relative to other types of imports. By doing so, one gains a better sense of how any particular type of amphora is actually integrated into the way the site functions over time. In addition, the breadth of data and number of sites sampled should provide enough of a dataset to see some patterns and make some meaningful observations. That being said, what we see is a rapid expansion in the number of sites with Greek amphoras and the quantity of Greek amphoras found there. At the same time, the nodes already in place in the Early Iron Age on the coast of Anatolia, the Levant, and the north coast of Africa continue to receive Greek oil and wine. Attic SOS amphoras have been found at nineteen sites in those regions, many of which have early versions of the shape, suggesting continuous contact (Pratt 2014, map 19). Indeed, a few of the sites, such as Al Mina, were recipients of Group II North Aegean amphoras before they were discontinued and southern Greek amphoras flooded the network. We know from later Classical written sources that surplus Greek oil and wine continued to be shipped to these eastern and southern regions of the Mediterranean in increasing quantities. An Egyptian customs register from 475 BCE records that from mid-February to mid-December three or four Greek ships per month passed through the port with a peak of five at the end of summer. This number can be compared to a total of six Phoenician ships for the year. The register records

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that all Greek ships brought wine, olive oil (possibly scented), and empty pottery, and the return freight carried wheat (van Wees 2009, 459). This pattern suggests that early Archaic era commercial exchange, visible through SOS and Corinthian A amphora distributions, used the networks and connections already in place from previous centuries. As larger quantities of Greek surplus oil and wine were exchanged as mutually valued commodities between multiple groups of people around the Mediterranean, these networks were then amplified significantly. Interestingly, the highest concentrations of Attic SOS amphoras within the Mediterranean are not found in central Greece but in Italy and Sicily, where some of the earliest Greek colonies were established. On the Italian peninsula, twenty-four sites have produced at least one example of an Attic SOS amphora, nine of which have identified early versions including Policoro, Metaponto, Incoronata, Otranto, Cerveteri, Cumae, and Pithekoussai. Over fifty sites have reported at least one Corinthian amphora, with early eighth and seventh century Corinthian A type amphoras at perhaps fifteen sites including Pale, Cavallino, Vaste, Siris, Incoronata, Sybaris, Crotone, Caulonia, Metauros, Reggio, and Pontecagnano (Berlingò 1995, 422–424; Klug 2013). Since discussion of all Greek enterprises in the central Mediterranean is beyond the scope of this chapter, only a few settlements are highlighted that seem to have participated significantly in the commercial exchange of surplus Greek oil and wine. Overlapping with the discussion of Group II North Aegean amphora distribution in Chapter 5, the site of Pithekoussai played a major role in the commercial exchange of Greek oil and wine in the Archaic era.24 There, around forty SOS amphoras and twenty-six early Corinthian A amphoras have been found both in settlements and cemeteries (Di Sandro 1986; Buchner and Ridgway 1993; Berlingò 1995, 428–429; Klug 2013; Pratt 2014). Located on the small island of Ischia opposite the Italian coast, Pithekoussai was neither an emporion nor an apoikia. The best description of this site is an enoikismos or cohabitation where Greeks lived with Phoenicians and other people from diverse regions. It seems that the number of people from different origins was very high and included Greeks from multiple regions, such as Euboea and Corinth, as well as people from Campania, Etruria, Latium vetus, north Africa, Sardinia, north Syria, and Phoenicia (Ridgway 2000, 30). Here these people lived, intermarried, traded, manufactured, and farmed together (D’Agostino 2006, 222; Antonaccio 2009, 321). A similar situation seems to have existed on Sicily. A total of twenty-one sites have produced evidence for at least one Attic SOS amphora and more than forty sites have Corinthian A amphoras, although most are later examples (Pratt 2016b). Eighth and early seventh-century Corinthian A amphoras have been found at Naxos, Milazzo, and Syracuse, which is perhaps not altogether surprising since they are some of the earliest Greek settlements on Sicily

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(Map 6.3; Albanese Procelli 1996; Sacchetti 2012; Klug 2013). One would expect Syracuse to have an overabundance of early Corinthian amphoras since this settlement was the one and only official Corinthian foundation (ca. 733 BCE; Thucydides 6.3–5; Strabo 6.2). Yet, despite the lack of published data on the number of early Corinthian amphoras at Syracuse, it too seems to have a high number of SOS amphoras compared to the other colonies (Pelagatti 1982; Albanese Procelli 1996: 99–102). For Sicily, at least, SOS amphoras seem to be slightly more prevalent than Corinthian A amphoras in the earliest levels of the first Greek colonies established on Sicily (Pratt 2016b). Megara Hyblaea (founded ca. 728 BCE) stands out for its noticeably high number of SOS amphoras and pattern of Greek imports over time. In the second half of the eighth and the seventh century BCE, Corinthian fine-ware products make up over 90 percent of the imported pottery; yet very few Corinthian amphoras were present. At the same time, only a handful of Athenian fine-ware vessels have been found, but SOS amphoras were imported in large quantities. Here, as well as at other sites, Attic amphoras seem to act very independently from Athenian fine-ware distributions. By the end of the Archaic period, however, roughly 600–500 BCE, not only did Corinthian A amphoras become more prevalent, but Corinthian and SOS amphoras were only two of many types of Greek amphoras being consumed at Sicilian sites. For example, at Camarina Rifriscolaro, out of 657 total amphoras recovered from the site thus far, 209 are Corinthian and only 36 are SOS. In addition, 183 East Greek amphoras, 182 West Greek amphoras, and 41 non-Greek amphoras (Etruscan and Phoenician-Punic) were also present (Sourisseau 2006). The distribution of Attic SOS and Corinthian amphoras in the far west, including Iberia and the northwest coast of Africa, takes on a slightly different pattern (Pratt 2015). A total of twenty-four sites have reported Attic SOS amphoras, though most have very few, and only five sites report early examples. Although many small fine Corinthian vessels, like aryballoi, are found at Iberian sites, no early Corinthian A amphoras have yet been identified. Corinthian amphoras seem to be more prevalent toward the end of the Archaic period. Greek presence in the western Mediterranean, and specifically Iberia, took place much later than their Italian and Sicilian expeditions. On the basis of literary sources and archaeological data, it seems that Phoenicians were much more active on the Iberian Peninsula than Greeks and had established many colonies even by the eighth century. It was therefore not Greeks themselves, but Phoenicians who were bringing Greek amphoras and their products to Iberia in the early Archaic period.25 For example, the site of Toscanos was founded in the mid-eighth century as a commercial enclave and has evidence for a large market building. There, at least fifty SOS amphoras have been reported (Pratt 2015, table A1). Material remains excavated suggest connections to Pithekoussai, Cyprus, and the eastern Mediterranean

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(Antonaccio 2009, 317). The first Greeks to actually set sail to Iberia and the west seem to have been individuals interested in tapping into the thriving metals trade that the Phoenicians had been exploiting. One of the first Greeks to do this, at least according to tradition, was the Samian, Kolaios who sailed to Tartessos (Iberia) in the second half of the seventh century (Herodotus, Hist. 4.152). The first clear evidence for Greek presence on Iberia was not until the establishment of Emporio around 575 BCE by Greeks from Phocaea. The sheer number of sites in the central and western Mediterranean that participated in exchange of the earliest Greek amphoras is impressive. The simultaneous mass production of standardized amphoras in central Greece and their shipment abroad suggests a direct connection between the two. In other words, people living in Attica and Corinth produced amphoras for the purpose of long-distance exchange. The patterns in amphora distribution may correspond with multiple facets of Greek historical occurrences, but the waves of colonization movements played particularly large roles. We might speculate that these commodities were exported via local merchants or a third party (or both) for two main reasons: to acquire goods that local elites desired as status symbols in a system of changing fashions or to aid a newly founded colony. In both cases, Greek oil and wine had to be highly valued by Greeks and nonGreeks alike such that their bulk shipment overseas was deemed essential.

Evidence for the Identity of Merchants: Greeks, Phoenicians, and Cypriots It is difficult to tell, with any certainty, who the people were that transported Greek amphoras and their contents. It is most likely, however, that multiple people, both Greek and non-Greek, participated in the commercial exchanges that produced the distribution patterns discussed earlier. Greek merchants certainly played a role, but the exact identities and the poleis or regions from which they originated are more difficult to discern. It has long been assumed that Corinthian merchants were very active within the Archaic Mediterranean. The primary reason for this assumption is the great amount of Corinthian pottery found throughout every region of the Mediterranean. However, the vast majority of this pottery is composed of small closed shapes or drinking cups that could have easily been picked up by anyone passing through the isthmus over which Corinth had control. For larger items, like Corinthian amphoras and their contents, the arguments for direct distribution by Corinthian ships is more complicated. When it comes to provisioning colonies, there is only one primary Corinthian colony: Syracuse. Syracuse did spawn secondary and even tertiary colonies (Heloros, Kamarina, Maestro, Modica), but it is unclear how much involvement Corinth would have had in their establishment and provision. Most interesting for our discussion is that Attic SOS amphoras were found in all of these colonies. It is possible that Corinthians were making relatively

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regular trips abroad with both their own ceramics and goods as well as goods from the surrounding region, like Attica. But why would there be any need for Attic oil if Corinthian amphoras also supposedly contained oil? An explanation for this pattern is harder to provide. Geography may also play a factor, but to a lesser extent. The Corinthian isthmus problem would affect the choice of amphoras one was able to take to western areas. Indeed, it has been shown that eastern Mediterranean amphoras tended to stay in the east and western amphoras in the west (Lawall 2006). Certainly, Corinthians would have capitalized on this by providing a ready supply of liquid produce for anyone traveling overseas from that departure point. This provides an answer for the supposed predilection for Corinthian oil and wine in the west, as reflected by the large number of Corinthian amphoras at most sites, not to mention aryballoi and other fine wares. Attic SOS amphoras may have been thrown in the mix when supplies were low or to accommodate specific preferences. Support for Corinthian actors moving Attic SOS amphoras comes from a later context in the Black Sea region. There, at Istria, a late Attic SOS amphora was found with Corinthian-Megarian writing on it, possibly suggesting the origin of the merchants (Dupont 1995–1996, 87). It is certainly possible for other, less archaeologically visible groups of Greeks to have participated in the distribution of SOS amphoras. For example, Aeginetans were known for their skill as seafarers and quite a few SOS amphoras have been found on the island (Hesiod fr. 205 Merkelbach-West; Houby-Nielsen 2009, 198). In addition, Samians are alluded to in later sources as being some of the first seafarers to reach the far western Mediterranean. Herodotus includes the story of the Samian named Kolaios who was the first Greek to reach Tartessos (Herodotus, Hist. 4.152). However, if this person existed, he did not perform his deeds earlier than about 640 BCE (Shefton 1982, 344). Certainly, these suggestions from later literary sources attest to the heterogeneous nature of the Greek merchants and seafarers traveling the western Mediterranean at this time. That Phoenicians acted as prominent merchants carrying Greek amphoras throughout the Mediterranean can be attested through patterns in the distribution of commercial goods, their presence at known commercial settlements, and literary sources. Many sites in Iberia received Greek SOS amphoras before any direct Greek activity had reached that part of the western Mediterranean. In 1982, Brian Shefton convincingly demonstrated a connection between the find-spots of early Attic SOS amphoras, early Corinthian aryballoi, and Phoenician enterprise, particularly in Iberia. Based on these distributions, he suggested that Phoenicians were the primary movers of Attic SOS amphoras, along with most other Greek goods, at least in the early part of the Archaic period. He went on to suggest that perhaps Pithekoussai, as a settlement with both Greek and Phoenician traits, acted as a transshipment point (Shefton 1982,

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342). The expanded SOS distribution provided here continues to support this idea. More Phoenician colonies can now be added to the distribution, including Carthage and Motya, as well as in Etrurian assemblages rife with Phoenician merchandise and iconographies (i.e., Cerveteri [Gill 1988, 8], Veii, Vulci). A greater number of Iberian sites with SOS amphoras have also been added that seem to be restricted to Phoenician contacts in the early Archaic period (Gonzales de Canales et al. 2006, 15). Additionally, Phoenician presence at Ischia has been elaborated since Shefton’s publication. Evidence now strongly suggests that the island was populated by both Greeks and Phoenicians. A particularly striking piece of evidence is an SOS amphora with both Aramaic and Greek graffiti (Garbini 1978) and an enchytrismos burial using a Greek amphora that had been inscribed with Phoenician writing. That Phoenicians were concerned more generally with large-scale bulk trade in wine can be demonstrated by the discovery of two shipwrecks off the coast of Egypt. Dated to the eighth century BCE, the Tanit and Elissa ships each carried a massive cargo of Phoenician torpedo-shaped amphoras that were highly standardized and specialized for the transport of wine. The existence of these ships demonstrates that early exchanges were not merely cabotage as described by Herodotus (Histories 3.6) but could represent directed trade of bulk materials (Drakides et al. 2010, 99). Although these ships appear to have only been carrying distinctively Phoenician wine, a recent review demonstrates that the distribution of Phoenician eighth century torpedo amphoras seems to align very well with the distribution of early SOS amphoras, showing a clear connection between SOS distribution and Phoenician enterprise (Kasseri 2012, 307; Pratt 2014, Map 20). We might assume, therefore, that Phoenicians were not solely concerned with bulk shipments of their own wine, but were also content to carry Greek commodities for, presumably, commercial purposes. Finally, archaeological evidence may also point to Cypriot involvement in the distribution of surplus Greek oil and wine. It seems relatively clear that over the course of the Early Iron Age, a prominent Greek presence evolved on Cyprus (Iacovou 2006). In 673 BCE more than half of the ten Cypriote states were ruled by kings with Greek proper names (as recorded by Essarhaddon’s royal scribes; Iacovou 2006, 261). Iacovou (2006, 269) suggests that Cypriote kingdoms where Arcado-Cypriot dialect was used for state administration claimed a Greek identity. This historical background may provide some clues to the presence of a Cypriot graffito on an Attic SOS amphora recovered at Mende in the North Aegean (Vokotopoulou and Christidis 1995). The graffito was inscribed in Cypriot script with the name (of trader or owner) followed by abbreviated patronymic (te-mi) and an abbreviated ethnic (Se=Salamis) (Vokotopoulou and Christidis 1995, 7–8). Interestingly, there is an identical graffito from the Policoro cemetery, suggesting that the same person was involved with the manufacture or sale of

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these vessels. Other evidence for the Cypriot connection comes from the same jar at Mende, which has three incised horizontal lines on one handle, a pot mark common on Cypriot pottery representing capacity (Masson 1983). Since Salamis has the heaviest concentration of SOS amphoras on Cyprus, and the person’s graffito identified himself as from Salamis, it is possible that Cypriot merchants acted as some sort of node along the economic network of Attic SOS amphoras. The many actors involved with the distribution of early Greek amphoras provide multiple nodes within the greater economic network of the Archaic period. These patterns of trade might be a result of either sporadic contact or a result of a high level of knowledge and high frequency of contact. Robin Osborne (2007) suggests that the latter is more likely since it requires a discriminating demand and would result in nonrandom patterning, which seems to be the case.

Commercial Exchange: Conclusions The Archaic period was the first time that bulk oil/wine shipped in large ceramic amphoras consistently moved along established networks, especially toward the west. The previous Early Iron Age saw the maintenance of some commercial economy in oil/wine, but certainly limited in scope and volume. Likewise, the Late Bronze Age trade in transport stirrup jars focused mainly on local transactions, only venturing sporadically to eastern markets (and even more rarely western ones). Based on the data presented in this chapter, it seems relatively clear that by the middle of the Archaic period, commercial exchange was a major aspect of the oil and wine industry. SOS and Corinthian A amphoras were widely disbursed throughout the Mediterranean. The production and commercial exchange of oil and wine were inextricably linked to the major cultural developments of the Greek Archaic period. The formation of Greek poleis facilitated the organization of labor and the accretion of wealth to produce oil and wine on a large scale, resulting in enough surplus not only to export to newly founded colonies in the form of assistance, but also to export in exchange for other desired goods. These goods then fueled the generation of wealth and status that, in turn, concentrated wealth even more, consequently maintaining the cycle. In addition, oil and wine facilitated cultural interactions with new, indigenous populations as Greek people moved into previously remote areas and tapped into desired resources and even larger trade networks. The first southern Greek amphoras played a major role in this increasingly complicated and cyclical web of economic and political interactions. These commercial networks may have built upon networks that had previously been established by trade using North Aegean amphoras, as well as others. Archaic Greek amphora trade expanded these networks in both distance and scale,

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essentially paving the way for later large-scale movements of oil and wine from many other regions of the Mediterranean. CHAPTER CONCLUSIONS

The previous chapter explored how the relationships of value and dependency between people, oil, and wine in the Early Iron Age gradually increased in scale while developing a regional character. This pattern was especially prominent in northern Greece where surplus oil and wine production and exchange flourished. This chapter explored how during the second half of the eighth century, this same pattern started to shift south. The development of the Greek polis and the exponential increase in Greek movement abroad complicated and problematized the foundational networks of the Early Iron Age as demography, political structures, and religious institutions changed, sometimes very quickly with drastic effects. These effects included a multiplicity of commensal events, the continuation and formalization of funerary and ritual gifts, and an exponential increase in oil and wine trade, as discussed earlier. Oil and wine therefore remained highly valued and indispensable for the proper functioning of multiple types of exchanges. As cultural commodities, the ways in which oil and wine were exchanged and consumed can help elucidate contemporary sociopolitical and economic changes. Based on a synthetic view of the evidence, we can see meaningful changes to patterns in the scale, context, and characteristics of exchange modes from the Early Iron Age to the Archaic era in central Greece which, when considered together, indicate that the high value of wine was constructed through different networks of calculative agencies. In other words, during the early Archaic era, the value of oil and wine was perceived as high due to their use in new and varied types of exchanges, to less centralized control of resources, and to an increase in the overall scale of exchanges. First, new opportunities for exchanging oil and wine developed during the course of the early Archaic era. Early Archaic commensal events were characterized by variety in scale, participants, and contexts. No longer were feasting events controlled by a single person or group, overtly displaying power and competing with others for aggrandizement. Instead, by the second half of the eighth century, commensal exchanges were used between elites through more subtle modes, often in neutral locations. Other events with a broader base of participants, like communal dining halls and sanctuary festivals, made oil and wine available to a larger section of the population. Novel contexts for gift exchange also came about during this time, as both regional sanctuaries and polis-based cults became formalized and included competitive displays by elites, as well as participation by non-elites. Opportunities for commercial exchange of oil and wine also seem to have expanded at this time. In addition to the obvious expansion of traditional

CHAPTER CONCLUSIONS

commercial networks, oil and wine were also used in smaller-scale transactions. During the Archaic era there is some evidence that wine, at least, was given as wages in exchange for services rendered. Some of the earliest written legal and administrative documents include jugs of must (fermenting wine) as payment for salary, services, and other contributions.26 For example, a document from Dattalla, a city in eastern Crete, lists fifty prochoi (jars or liquid measures) of must as partial payment to its official scribe, Spensitheos, which equates to approximately a year’s supply of wine (Marangou 1999, 269). As new mutations of each exchange mode developed, oil and wine remained central features, highly valued by the different groups of people who exchanged and consumed them. Second, the early Archaic period seems to have introduced an era when more people had access to the resources necessary for the production and exchange of oil and wine. These resources included people for labor, land for planting, and wealth for acquiring necessary equipment such as amphoras and drinking paraphernalia. The multitude of feasting events and contexts suggests that many more people, at various levels of social status, were able to provide oil and wine during these occasions. It seems that wine, at least, was produced by most wealthy landowners with the expectation that they would use it to their social advantage. Surplus oil and wine, therefore, became a symbol of status rather than a symbol of power, as it had been during the era of chiefs/big-men. It was not a problem that multiple people were able to exchange surplus oil and wine – it was not a threat. Rather, it was a sign of belonging to the same group, to the same level of social importance. Archaic literature, such as Homer’s Odyssey and Hesiod’s Works and Days, suggests that it was deemed proper to host neighboring elites for feasts at your own house, then expect a reciprocal invitation to follow suit (see Appendices A and B for further discussion). We might surmise that this new openness to surplus oil and wine affected the overall value of these commodities, as dictated by a significantly different network of calculative agencies. Third, the perception of wine and oil as high-value would have also been affected by an overall widening of access to these commodities through the significant increase in scale and frequency of feasting events and in an increase in overall availability of these commodities through commercial exchange. This is most evident in the elaboration and institutionalization of sanctuary feasts and communal dining halls. It seems reasonable to assume that the participants of these large-scale communal events included most of the males in a community or communities, if not an even larger section of the population. The evidence for women’s participation in these events is very scarce, but later literary sources might indicate that they were not entirely excluded from the world of commensal events and wine-drinking (Schmitt Pantel 2001; Kelly-Blazeby 2006, 29–32). Moreover, it has recently been argued that commensal events, even small-scale gatherings where wine played a prominent

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role, were not restricted to elite values, but were a common, shared value among all members of a community (van Wees and Fisher 2015, 25–26). The distinction between elites and non-elites was therefore not the commensal event itself, but rather the elaboration of the event through status symbols such as imported food, high-quality wine, metal or decorated equipment, servants, and entertainment. That wine and oil were available more generally is indicated by the appearance or formalization of wine shops and bars. Although the most concrete written and archaeological evidence appears later in the Archaic period and Classical era, there is some indication that these establishments existed well before.27 Greek movement abroad also presents an opportunity to observe not only the high value that was placed on Greek oil and wine, but also the construction of that value on a Mediterranean-wide scale. The place of oil and wine within the Greek regime of value was affected by the maintenance of that regime outside of the traditional Greek homeland and coming into contact with nonGreek regimes of value. The high value of oil and wine was therefore constructed long-distance as Greeks themselves maintained, to some degree, their value systems across space and time. Of course, overall values change over time, but when it comes to oil and wine, both commodities were continually imported from the Greek mainland to Greek colonial ventures over hundreds of years. It is not new that Greek oil and wine were consumed on a large scale in other parts of the Mediterranean. The Late Bronze Age also presented that pattern. What is new during the Archaic period, however, is the continued large-scale exchange of these products between Greek settlements after moving away from the traditional Greek homeland. Although imported oil and wine might have originally acted as a start-up supply for the proper functioning of Greek colonies, their continued importation long after the possibility of local production makes clear that the high value of these commodities was the driving factor.28 Imported oil and wine would have functioned as luxury items, once local production of oil and wine reached a level adequate to fill local needs (Foxhall 1998; Brun 2010, 426–427, 2011). Greek settlers chose to consume these imported commodities over locally available products. Despite the relatively early production of oil/wine and amphoras on Sardinia (Docter 2007), at Pithekoussai (Sourisseau 2011), and even within indigenous Sicilian sites, Greek settlements on Sicily seem to have preferred mainland Greek commodities. It is not until the later part of the Archaic period when we see large-scale imports of central Mediterranean amphoras into Greek settlements. The distribution patterns of SOS and Corinthian A amphoras over 250 years highlight the agricultural and economic choices made by Greeks living in Sicily. It is certain that grapevines and olive trees existed and were grown on Sicily and the Italian Peninsula, well before the arrival of the Greeks.29 And, even if they had not existed, it would have only taken 10–20 years to produce a viable crop. Why, then, did Greeks import oil and wine from Greece if not

CHAPTER CONCLUSIONS

for the special value attributed to these commodities? It also seems to be the case that newly established Greeks chose not to adopt the values and tastes of local indigenous populations. Despite the local production of hydromel and its subsequent shipment in local amphoras (Dominguez 2006, 326–328), Greeks do not seem to have imported or consumed any of this product. This fact, when compared to the choice by indigenous southern Italians and Sicilians to consume Greek oil and wine, as well as produce Greek-style amphoras, highlights the variability of cultural interaction and the agency with which individual people approach the consumption and production of new items.30 The situation evident in the Greek poleis of Sicily, with regards to oil and wine importation and consumption, also brings to the fore the idea of dependency as one of the factors contributing to the stability and tautness of the entanglement between people and these two commodities. Although, as I have often said throughout this book, it is relatively impossible to prove dependency in its true sense through the archaeological record, exchange and consumption patterns, such as those discussed earlier, can at least point toward a relationship of need beyond superficial desire. Indeed, this connection of dependency between people, oil, and wine is visible not through examining one relationship, but through the patterns produced over many. It is the increase in scale and diversity across all three exchange modes covered here that conveys some underlying connection. The increase in scale and diversity of commensal events and their established place within a community’s regime of value would have solidified the need for surplus oil and wine. In turn, this need would have fueled the commercial exchange of these two commodities. And, as in all relationships, a circular feedback loop developed whereby the increased presence of surplus oil and wine on a larger, more complex commercial market further prompted the spread of commensal exchange not only throughout Greek communities, but also abroad as Greek people moved around the Mediterranean as both entrepreneurs and settlers. All of these changes to commensality, gift exchange, and trade from the Early Iron Age into the Archaic period would have transformed the nature of the entanglement between people, oil, and wine. The relationships of dependency and the agencies constructing value in southern Greece at this time worked to expand the entanglement in scale while becoming more decentralized and fostering a “regional” character. These changes would have been similar to those in the northern Aegean slightly earlier. More and bigger events, along with population increase and demographic shifts, would have led to a wider network of interconnected nodes. Different types of nodes played relatively equal parts in the network of dependencies between people, oil, and wine that made up the entanglement. Within this network, one can imagine that some nodes would have taken a more central position than others, such as larger poleis and Panhellenic sanctuaries, but, in general, there would not have been a single

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node creating and controlling the overall dependency on surplus oil and wine manifested by their indispensability within these new forms of commensal, ritual, and commercial exchanges. By the end of the Archaic era, most of Greece and the Aegean could be characterized as made up of broad regions that shared a particular value system at the same time that they had their own distinctive characteristics (e.g., dialect, ceramic style, institutions, consumption preferences, etc.). Shared among all of them, however, was a dependency on large amounts of surplus oil and wine. This dependency eventually led to many Greek regions producing their own surplus of one or the other of these commodities (or both) and using them, not only for themselves, but for exchange with other regions for different commodities, even different types of wine or oil. This larger-scale and more decentralized or “regional” entanglement can be highlighted through a number of new patterns, attributes, and nodes within commensal, gift, and commercial exchanges. First and foremost, commensal exchange was radically affected by the crystallization of Panhellenic or regional sanctuaries and the (gradual) development of formal poleis. The early Archaic period witnessed an exponential growth in the number of religious buildings, many of which were located within settlements, but others were in locations that did not seem to fall under any particular settlement’s control. For example, some sanctuaries developed at this time that would eventually give a religious identity and unity to whole regions and groups of cities like Delos for the Ionians or Thermos for the Aetolians. In these cases, it is clear that the activity and influence of the sanctuary was not completely subordinated to the politics and culture of a single city even when its administration eventually belonged to one polis (e.g., Elis for Olympia; de Polignac 2009). It is possible, therefore, to see various types of a “sacred centrality” function in different contexts and periods (de Polignac 2009, 435). The Panhellenic sanctuary of Olympia presents a very good example of a sanctuary that has its roots in the Early Iron Age, as demonstrated primarily through archaeological remains of large-scale commensal events (Morgan 1990). Here, the presence and activity of the local population existed alongside more regional participation. Specifically, we can see a conflict between locally emerging elites in the towns of both Pisa and Elis as they competed for greater roles and visibility in the sanctuary, its administration, and its cults through commensal activities. It is only at the beginning of the sixth century that the creation (or formal appearance) of a distinct cult officially signals the role played by the Eleans in the administration of the sanctuary. In these cases, the sanctuary contributed to the rise of the cities, not the other way around (de Polignac 2009, 437). Commensal events using large quantities of surplus oil and wine were central not only to the functioning of these types of regional sanctuaries but also to the competition between elites taking place there.

CHAPTER CONCLUSIONS

Broad trends in funerary gifts related to wine and oil, as well as similar practices, suggest the coalescence of entanglements with a regional nature within the realm of gift exchange. As discussed in this chapter, wine-drinking paraphernalia, including cups, jugs, and, at times, kraters became standard grave equipment for the deceased. Although this general trend is not very different from any time period before the Archaic era, there are some changes to the types of equipment that signal regional cohesion in practice. For example, the use of skyphoi cups and lekythoi specifically within Attica signals a preference witnessed over a larger area of people than previously attested in the Early Iron Age. The establishment of family- or clan-based ritual dining areas near associated burials also suggests a regional preference that spread around Attica. In the Argolid, the presence of tomb cults with evidence for wine drinking seems to be a more regional practice, though future archaeological work could prove otherwise. Commercial exchange presents a very clear example of larger-scale, decentralized entanglements appearing in central Greece during the Archaic era. The first standardized transport amphoras produced there are distinctly regional in character. SOS amphoras are not only produced in multiple areas of Attica, but also in Euboea. Indeed, it is unclear which area produced the shape first. Moreover, a completely different type of container was produced around the same time in the Corinthia, where a plain handmade version was preferred. The production of these two distinctly regional containers continued throughout the Archaic era, perhaps demonstrating the steadfastness of the regional nature of entanglements surrounding oil and wine at this point. In addition, the movement of both types of containers suggests early and frequent commercial exchange between different regions. Corinthian handmade amphoras are some of the first Corinthian imports to reach the Athenian Agora. It is interesting to note that by the end of the Archaic era, these regional characteristics of the entanglement seem to be countered by a resurgence of distinctively local or group statements of cohesion. Specifically, in the sixth century, the Symposion proper comes into being with its rules and very specific elite ideologies that are intended as exclusionary tactics (Murray 1990; Schmitt Pantel 1997; Wecowski 2011, 9–12). At the same time, around 600 BCE, powerful cities took control of external, regional sanctuaries and transformed them into manifestations of their own influence, wealth, and prestige (de Polignac 2009, 437–438). For example, changes modified not only the internal organization of the sanctuaries but also their territorial orientations including the creation of sacred ways and processions.31 These local or group responses to broader regional trends certainly affected the entanglement between people, oil, and wine through the reorientation of commercial exchange to effectively provide necessary supplies to elites and poleis-sponsored sanctuaries, respectively. These new trends do not mean the dissolution of regional entanglements but rather the inclusion of new connections of dependencies and value within them.

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These relationships of value and dependency surrounding oil and wine, as demonstrated through observable patterns in production and exchange, provide meaningful insights into the sociopolitical and economic trends of early Archaic Greece. Specifically, the patterns in exchange of oil and wine observed here reflect the idea that the early Archaic period was marked by demographic expansion and social unrest or restructuring. By the end of the eighth century, the area around Attica and Corinth, at least, had enough people living close enough together for a long enough time to produce large amounts of surplus oil and wine, not only for themselves but also to ship abroad and exchange with both Greek and non-Greek people. Indeed, it is widely accepted that demographic expansion increased substantially during the Archaic period. From the tenth to the fourth century BCE, there was a steady population growth throughout Greece of approximately 0.25 percent per annum. However, this growth might have reached up to 1.0 percent per annum in the period from the late eighth through the fifth century (Snodgrass 1980, 19–25; Scheidel 2003; Forsdyke 2006, 335–336). Surplus oil and wine production would have benefited significantly from an excess of labor that perhaps was lacking or harder to come by in the previous centuries. The different types of commensal events initiated in the early Archaic period support the idea that people were not only increasing in number but also coalescing and dividing into relatively distinct groups. Whereas the Early Iron Age seems to have been roughly divided between those invited to the feast and those who were not, the early Archaic period presents a very different picture. Even by the end of the eighth century, there seems to have been much more nuance as to who was invited to what feast and, consequently, who had access to what types and quantities of oil and wine. Although the debates surrounding the social structure of the early archaic period are intense and numerous, the evidence from oil and wine exchange suggests that new groups definitely did emerge in the early archaic period as people were trying to define themselves using oil, wine, and their contexts of consumption and exchange.32 Elites, whatever their exact makeup, were characterized primarily by their ownership of large amounts of land and their desire to compete with each other. Indeed, “competitive acquisitiveness” was the driving factor behind elite lifestyle and included grand displays of wealth, such as hosting elaborate commensal events and acquiring foreign goods (Foxhall 1998; van Wees and Fisher 2015, 29–30). The archaeological remains of commercial exchanges of oil and wine provide meaningful insights into the formalization of professional groups during the Archaic period, especially merchants and traders. Of all the earliest amphoras, Attic SOS amphoras have the highest number of names and marks on them. The names were engraved post-firing during the commercial life of the pot and might represent a middleman involved in the sale of the amphoras and their contents (Johnston and Jones 1978; Pratt 2016). The fact that Athens had no formal colonies of its own also means that merchants from other places or professional merchants

CHAPTER CONCLUSIONS

from Athens were taking these amphoras with them for, most likely, commercial gain.33 It is unclear when labels were placed on the groups of people involved with commercial exchange but, by the end of the Archaic period, three professions came to the fore. The first is emporoi or traders who traveled by sea using someone else’s ship, but owned the goods they traded, though did not produce the goods themselves (Reed 2003, 7). A second category, naukleroi, refers to people who actually owned a seagoing merchantman. Reed (2003, 65), however, provides a third term that is perhaps most useful: maritime trader or prekteres. These are free or unfree men who derive most of their livelihood from traveling by sea to buy and resell goods either for their own profit or for the profit of their owner.34 This category of independent maritime traders and agent traders was most likely involved in much of the early Archaic trade and derived from a number of different ethnic regions. Additionally, there seems to have been a professionalization of middlemen involved with the sale of oil and wine on a smaller, local scale. Indeed, there is evidence from Archaic literature that taverns already existed where lowerquality wine could be bought in smaller quantities.35 This profession ties into the new accessibility of oil and wine to a wider selection of the population. By the end of the Archaic period, the values and dependencies on oil and wine set in place continued to thrive throughout the Classical era. Indeed, by the end of the sixth century, many more regions of Greece produced their own olive oil or wine and shipped surplus in standardized containers. Even a century later, there were so many different amphoras on the market that specialists are still attempting to identify their origins (Whitbread 1995; Lawall 1995, 2004, 2011). This multiplicity of production locations becomes especially difficult when one takes into account the expanding markets for surplus oil and wine exchange in the central and western Mediterranean, not to mention the Black Sea region. It is at this point that oil and wine became signifiers of identity to many other cultures around the Mediterranean, cultures that had once been considered in opposition to Greeks in part because of their ignorance of olive oil and wine. And yet, despite this widening of oil and wine availability, Greeks, now spread all around the Mediterranean, nevertheless maintained these two commodities as indispensable staples of their own lives.

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CONCLUSION Cultural Commodities and the Future of Oil and Wine

T

he conclusion of the book ties together the themes of the previous five chapters by examining the overall patterns visible regarding production of oil, wine, and transport containers, and the modes of exchange used to distribute these commodities. A long-term view of the role of oil and wine in pre-Classical Greek cultures leads to some meaningful observations. The first is the overall dynamic stability of both commodities as witnessed through changing characteristics of entanglements. The dynamic stability of oil and wine was supported by the importance of shared values and practices intimately tied to the construction of what it meant to be elite. The second observation made possible by a long-term view is the development of oil and wine as cultural commodities within Greek communities. Finally, taking up the historical ecology approach outlined in the Introduction, the Conclusion addresses the implications of this historical study on modern issues of agriculture and commerce in the Mediterranean. As the Mediterranean once again enters into dramatic climate change today, it is important to understand more fully the outcomes of these changes in the past and how populations adapted to and, eventually, thrived in new conditions. Indeed, even in modern Greece the cultivation of olive trees and grapevines, along with the production of olive oil and wine, are essential aspects of the culture. Yet, it is becoming increasingly clear that the environment of many regions of Greece is changing and new solutions for the future of these cultural commodities need to be addressed. 298

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DYNAMIC STABILITY: SHARED VALUES AND THE CONSTRUCTION OF ELITENESS

The entanglement between people and oil and wine maintained what we could call a dynamic stability in pre-Classical Greece. Dynamic stability is the idea that something can remain the same overall while experiencing slight changes over time. Included is the ability to be resilient in the face of outside forces. The conclusion of each chapter highlighted the ways in which the entanglement between people, oil, and wine transformed in scale and centralization, but never disentangled even after the Late Bronze Age collapse. The stable aspect of the entanglement between people and oil/wine from the Bronze Age to the Archaic period has to do, in part, with the “fluidity” of oil and wine as technological products – they can be produced and “invented” in multiple places at the same time because both plants were relatively ubiquitous and because their products were durable and portable. Carl Knappett (in Bevan 2014, 407) has observed a similar trajectory for amphoras and surely this is no coincidence. Amphoras were inextricably caught up in the entanglement surrounding oil and wine and would have reacted in tandem. For example, after the Bronze Age Palatial collapse, not only did the overall entanglement shift from centralized to local, but also amphoras moved from mass-produced specialized containers to locally produced household shapes. Standardized amphoras were once again produced as the entanglement changed and expanded in the Early Iron Age. The stability of the entanglement between people, oil, and wine was also facilitated by shared values and practices. Many of the eastern Mediterranean regions shared an affinity for wine and even more for oils, especially perfumed. The cultures of prehistoric Greece were particularly invested in the manufacture and consumption of perfumed oils and wines, attested most poignantly by the documentation of the comings and goings of thousands of liters of both liquids within their palatial administrative archives written in Linear B. This investment seems to have been due, in part at least, to the market made available by the demand for both products by the other cultures around them. If this large-scale market, best attested by the Uluburun shipwreck, had not been in place due to shared values, it is conceivable that Bronze Age Greek cultures would not have needed such a robust and tightly controlled network surrounding the production of oil and wine. In other words, if the calculative agencies of various communities around the eastern Mediterranean had not produced similar values for oil and wine, the entanglement between people, oil, and wine in Greece would not have been so strong, or to use a word from Ian Hodder (2010), so “taut.” After the collapse that affected most cultures in the eastern Mediterranean, southern Greek cultures maintained their value of oil and wine and shared it even more prominently with people living in the north Aegean.

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One of the best archaeologically visible demonstrations for shared values related to oil and wine is the presence of similar pottery shapes used to contain or consume these two commodities. In ceramic terminology, one often refers to the presence of a koine where one regional style seems to dominate over others. A koine is often seen as the result of population movement, political domination, or lack of artistic capability by others. Yet, it is more likely that shared values and practices are the underlying causes for the adoption of a particular style of ceramic pot. That this is the case can be demonstrated by the selectivity apparent in adoption patterns. For example, the shared artistic styles and ceramic shapes in the northwest Aegean during the Early Iron Age is often called the “Euboean koine” because some of the shapes seem to have been first introduced in Euboea. However, after the excavation and publication of many sites in northern Greece, these shapes and styles, such as the skyphos cup and concentric circles, might have actually been adopted there relatively simultaneously and cannot be viewed as merely on the receiving end. In addition, not every Euboean shape was adopted. Indeed, one of the most distinctive southern Greek shapes, the krater used to mix wine and water, has not often been found in the north. However, skyphoi cups, smaller closed shapes, and certainly north Aegean amphoras are found in abundance at sites in the north and south. This pattern suggests that a shared value of wine and oils permitted the fluidity of associated equipment at the same time that exact practices in consuming the commodities differed. The dynamic aspect of the entanglement between people and oil and wine, that is, its mutability over time, was in large part due to the changing nature of what it meant to be elite and how that was manifested through the entanglement with oil and wine. What it meant to be elite was caught up in the production, exchange, and consumption of oil and wine. The entanglement with these two commodities became an important factor of elite construction because oil and wine continued to be highly valued, although for slightly different reasons and in different ways over time. How elite status was constructed, vis à vis oil and wine, also changed over time. Elites in some eras placed emphasis on having control over the production and storage of these commodities, while at other times elites placed emphasis on having control over their exchange. Control over production included not only the control of land and people to work that land, but also the control of knowledge used for adding value to the products, such as perfume manufacture and flavored wines. Control over the exchange of oil and wine included local exchange, such as using the commodities as payment for services, as well as long-distance exchange, such as bulk trade with neighboring cultures. In all eras, however, eliteness was manifested through different ways of controlling the consumption of oil and wine. And not just the act of embodying these commodities, but in the specific knowledge-based practices

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associated with their consumption. These practices changed over time and included pouring, mixing, and toasting. Of course, entangled with these practices were the specific and necessary items needed to not only perform the task appropriately, but also to reaffirm the eliteness of the actions and the person performing them. Items like elaborate jugs necessary for pouring in the Minoan palatial era, decorated kylikes for toasting in the Mycenaean palatial era, and symbolically charged kraters for mixing in the Postpalatial and Iron Ages. Over time, changes occurred in the domain of the relative numbers of (elite) people with control over the production, exchange, and consumption of oil and wine and in what contexts that power was concentrated. Moreover, the changing nature of the construction of elite status, manifested through the entanglement with oil and wine, had a direct impact on how non-elites had access to these two commodities. In other words, the ways in which entanglement worked for non-elite groups depended on the character of the entanglement of wine and oil with elites. In the Minoan palatial era, production of oil and wine was more generally in the hands of a broader group of elites. Specifically, production of wine, at least, seems to have intensified greatly during the Neopalatial era but was a relatively widespread activity taking place in urban homes, rural villas, and palaces. The exchange of surplus oil and wine was perhaps bifocal. A broader group of elites took part in regional exchanges, as exemplified by the movement of ovalmouthed amphoras, while a smaller group of elites might have conducted small-scale, long-distance exchange using transport stirrup jars. Consumption took place in both palatial and ritual settings and intensified during the Neopalatial era with an increase in frequency and types of commensal events. During these events, there is some evidence that elites would have controlled the practices of commensality, including the act of pouring. Elite status was therefore displayed through type and quality of equipment used. The nature of elite construction in the Minoan palatial era meant that non-elites had differential access to wine and oil. One could speculate that non-elites had access to wine and oil through production as laborers and through consumption during communal events. However, in these communal events, there seems to have been a suppression of knowledge of practices since the use of plain, homogenous conical cups was the norm and in obvious contrast to the tableware used by elites. As the Minoan palatial system gradually declined ushering in an era dominated by the Mycenaean palaces, the entanglement between people, oil, and wine increased in scale further while becoming centralized in nature. Evidence suggests that a smaller group of elites was generally in control of oil and wine production and large-scale storage was concentrated in palaces only. Mycenaean elites were also concerned with the control of added-value

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knowledge, such as perfume manufacture and flavored wine. Exchange of oil and wine also assumed a different character as a smaller group of elites continued to take part in regional exchange on Crete (continuing to use ovalmouthed amphoras) while perhaps a different group of elites controlled largescale long-distance exchange using transport stirrup jars. Palatial elites also used surplus oil and wine in small-scale local exchanges in the form of payments and offerings. This same small group of palatial elites also controlled oil and wine through their consumption in strictly palatial settings. Moreover, there seems to have been a control of commensal practices, such as mixing and toasting. In this era, elite status was displayed more through the quality of the equipment used, not the type, as demonstrated by the various levels of kylikes found in the palace at Pylos. This tight control of oil and wine production, distribution, and consumption had an effect on the access that non-elites enjoyed. They perhaps had access through production as laborers as in the previous era. Consumption, however, assumed a different character as non-elites only had access through state-sponsored and segregated events in palatial settings. There, however, non-elites used similar equipment to elites, but of a lesser quality. In this case, social cohesion was achieved through knowledge of practices by both elites and non-elites. The dynamic stability of oil and wine and the strength of the relationships of dependency and value surrounding these two commodities are perhaps best seen immediately after the Bronze Age collapse. Despite the fact that the Mycenaean palatial elite had maintained a tight grip on the production and exchange of oil and wine, both commodities continued to function in many of the same ways during the Postpalatial era. However, the relationships of dependency and construction of the high value of oil and wine did change significantly as the entanglement between people and these two commodities shrank considerably in scale and became more decentralized in comparison to the palatial past. In the Postpalatial era, oil and wine were produced and exchanged on a much smaller scale and controlled by a smaller group of elites who seem to have concentrated surplus storage in their own households. At the same time, both commodities continued to be exchanged in commensal events, but they seem to have been much more restricted using equipment designed to highlight the common elite status of participants. In these cases, elite status was displayed through the control of practices, such as mixing using kraters, and the person’s presence at the event. These same elites might have also taken part in some regional exchange. No longer was the production of specialized containers regulated by a central authority. Instead, large pots commonly used as household containers, such as hydriai and round-mouthed amphoras, transitioned into multifunctional and convenient transport containers when needed. Moreover, a vast zone encompassing central Greece, Crete, and the islands shared similar production techniques and styles that seem to

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have enabled fluid transfers of surplus oil and wine between groups of people. This koine strengthens the idea that oil and wine exchange remained a significant aspect of, specifically, elite social interaction despite the dramatic social and demographic changes occurring throughout the eastern Mediterranean at this time. The smaller-scale nature of oil and wine production, distribution, and consumption make insights into non-elite access to these commodities impossible to discern. It is unclear whether non-elites had any contact with oil and wine during the Postpalatial era. The end of the Postpalatial era and the beginning of the Early Iron Age are often seen as the moment of the total break from Greece’s palatial past. And yet, elites continued to value oil and wine as a significant marker of status. During the first part of the Early Iron Age, when the “local” nature of the entanglement persisted from the previous Postpalatial era, surplus storage, commensal events, and even gifts to the divine seem to have been concentrated in “leaders’ dwellings” or large, often centralized buildings within settlements. However, as time progressed, a new venue for oil and wine storage and exchange gained prominence, namely, regional sanctuaries. There is some evidence to suggest that regional sanctuaries, such as Kalapodi and Olympia, not only held large commensal events but also controlled the surplus commodities necessary for their enactment. That more people once again gained access to oil and wine as status markers is suggested by evidence for commercial exchange. The archaeobotanical remains from settlements of the Early Iron Age, combined with the distribution of newly invented north Aegean amphoras, suggest a growing production of these commodities, and in particular wine, over the course of a few centuries. By the end of the Early Iron Age, the north Aegean amphora was mass-produced in a handful of locations concentrated around the Thermaic Gulf and shipped to distant locations including Pithekoussai off the coast of Italy and Al Mina on the Levantine littoral. It might be possible to speculate that non-elite access to oil and wine in the Early Iron Age began as almost nonexistent but increased as production of the commodities, their containers, and their exchange increased over time. The number of elites and non-elites with access to not only the commodities, but also the knowledge, technologies, and networks surrounding oil and wine grew exponentially by the end of the eighth century. A multiplicity in scale and types of exchange events came about during the early Archaic period that reflects rapidly developing social structures, hierarchies, and political and religious institutions. Commensal events ranged greatly from small- to large-scale and from private to public. Elite status was reaffirmed by the type of context a person was able to participate in, such as exclusive symposia and funerary banquets, and the quality of equipment used during communal and ritual events. The formalization of communal dining halls and largescale communal commensal events at sanctuaries opened up access to oil

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and wine such that both commodities were valued by non-elites in very different ways from the previous Early Iron Age. Moreover, the formalization of commercial venues for oil and wine acquisition allowed both elites and non-elites greater access to these commodities outside of specialized or sponsored events. As Greek colonies spread throughout the Mediterranean Sea, Greek oil and wine came into the hands of new people, both elite and non-elite, and came up against other highly valued commodities, which, in turn, shaped their value in different ways. At home, Athens and Corinth developed their own respective bulk transport amphoras and produced the surplus to fill them. Abroad, those Attic and Corinthian containers and their contents were brought to newly founded Greek settlements, as well as indigenous settlements, and settlements established by other non-natives, such as Phoenicians. The value of Greek oil and wine was therefore constructed not only within the Greek cultural milieu, but also as commodities on a broader Mediterranean market. From the Bronze Age to the Archaic era, the nature of what it meant to be elite changed and was thoroughly entangled with the material world as exemplified by oil and wine. This connection helped to maintain the high value of oil and wine and therefore secure their place within the broader entanglement. At the same time, however, the various ways in which elites used these commodities to reify their positions contributed to the dynamic nature of the entanglement surrounding oil and wine. How and to what degree these commodities were present in the lives of people changed significantly as social structures shifted from less hierarchical to more hierarchical and back again. Moreover, the types of access non-elites had to oil and wine depended on these changing characteristics. A long-term view highlights how different social groups experienced these commodities differently over time. The specific ways in which these groups of people engaged with oil and wine contributed to the variability of these commodities from the Bronze Age to the Archaic era. OLIVE OIL AND WINE AS CULTURAL COMMODITIES

The dynamic stability and resiliency discussed earlier lead to the question: Why go to all this trouble for two commodities not necessary for human survival? This book has argued that the necessity came about due to a change in the relationship between people and oil and wine from one of mutual benefaction to one of dependency. People became dependent upon oil and wine for the proper functioning of social and economic exchanges and they valued these commodities as essential goods and therefore non-substitutable. A libation would not work without wine (cf., Cattle of the Sun episode in the Odyssey Bk. 12). A burial would not be proper without perfumed oils. And a feast would not be impressive without large quantities of both. As argued here, this switch

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from dependence to dependency seems to have occurred in the Minoan Neopalatial era and worked to maintain the dynamic stability of the entanglement through to the Archaic period. The inextricability despite unfavorable conditions is what makes oil and wine cultural commodities. At the onset of this book, I defined “cultural commodity” as things that have become deeply entangled with humans by means of value formation within the contexts of exchange and that, ultimately, cultural commodities become signifiers of identity, deeply rooted in social and ideological practices rather than products functioning strictly within an economic context (see Chapter 1). It is this second part of the definition, that cultural commodities become part of a group’s identity, that is harder to prove. A person or group’s “identity” in general is a very arduous and greatly debated topic (Konstan and Saïd 2006). Broekaert et al. (2016, 8) put it well: “Identity is a complicated notion entangling the past, the present and the future; the heritage, the surroundings and selfprojections. Identity is the result of a dynamic process.” Arguments for how to define a person or group’s identity range widely and often intertwine with definitions of ethnicity and culture (Barth 1969; Malkin 2001; Derks and Roymans 2009; Demetriou 2013). This is most clear when considering a definition of “cultural group” proposed by Jonathan Hall (2009, 605): “a cultural group [is] one which grounds its identity in a set of shared symbols (ideas, beliefs, values, attitudes, and practices), selected from the totality of social existence and endowed with a particular signification for the purposes of communicating distinctiveness . . .” (emphasis added; see also Dougherty and Kurke 2003). By this definition, cultural commodities would fit into the largest category, that is, the shared symbols that make up identity within a cultural group. When it comes to the topic of “Greek identity,” it becomes clear that one can only begin to see signs of such a concept emerging at the very end of the time period covered in this book. Before this point, “Greekness” did not exist. Indeed, the most famous account of “Greekness” comes from Herodotus in the fifth century. Herodotus (8.144.2) has the Athenian delegation pronounce before the battle of Plataea in 479 BCE: “Then again, there is the matter of Greekness (to Hellénikon) – that is, our common blood, common tongue, common cult places and sacrifices and similar customs; it would not be right for the Athenians to betray all this.” And yet even this later account seems to be flawed in so far as scholars have argued that within its literary context the statement is not only propagandistic but also an afterthought (Hall 2009, 604; 2002). Indeed, by the middle of the fifth century, it seems that “similar customs” in particular were favored as a means of identifying “Greekness” over linguistic or religious similarity or even kinship (Hall 2002, 189–194). The production, exchange, and consumption of wine and olive oil could be considered part of those “similar customs” in the pre-Classical era, which defined group identity (see also Davidson 1997, 40).

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Ideas about the formation of Archaic-era Greek identity often come from early written sources such as Homer’s Odyssey, where Odysseus and his comrades are pitted against “others” and their strange mannerisms, customs, and beliefs (e.g., Cartledge 1993; Malkin 1998; Harrison 2002; Mitchell 2007). Between the stories in the epics and the real movement of Greeks overseas encountering new people, Greek identity is often assumed to be defined in opposition to others both real and fictive. It is here where the specific Greek practices around the production and consumption of olive oil and wine seem to play a significant role. In the world of Odysseus, people encountered on his journey home are often distinguished by their victuals in nomenclature and/or habits. In this way, eating and dining habits were privileged as a means of identification and whether people were “like us” or not. It is often in the moment of dining that the character of new acquaintances is revealed and wine drinking takes a particularly prominent role within these interactions as an indicator of proper conduct or misconduct (Hobden 2013, 69). On the positive side, the Phaeacians welcome Odysseus with convivial banquets, familiar libations to shared gods (e.g., Hermes Argeiphontes, Book 7.134–8), and proper guest–host relations. The Phaeacians drink wine mixed in a krater with water and libations are always poured first before drinking, as well as at the end of the feast (e.g., 7.182–4, 228). These practices are in stark contrast to the Cyclops, who not only eats Odysseus’s companions but also drinks unmixed wine to his ultimate detriment.1 In the historical world of the eighth through seventh centuries, both wine and oil seem to have played a prominent role in the interactions between Greeks moving west and indigenous people. Indeed, Purcell (2006, 23) has suggested that the seventh and sixth centuries BCE could be labeled the “First Mass Sympotic Period.” As discussed in the conclusion to Chapter 6, there is significant diversity in the ways in which people exchanged and consumed oil, wine, and their containers. As one of the first signs of Greek presence abroad, wine and oil amphoras infiltrated not only the newly founded Greek settlements, but also the preexisting indigenous settlements, sanctuaries, and cemeteries. The contemporaneity of the movement of people alongside their amphoras strongly emphasizes the importance of oil and wine to the settlers themselves. At the same time, the discovery of the same types of amphoras in elite burials, for example, along with Greek-style drinking equipment and small, decorated oil containers suggests that both commodities were used as a means of interacting with the customs of Greek settlers. That is not to say, however, that indigenous people immediately changed their own customs to match those of the Greeks, but rather used their own agency to decide what does and does not appeal to their own sense of identity. In some cases, then, oil and wine must have acted as a bridge between customs and group identities

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while at the same time solidifying the individual and unique identities of each group.2 This mutability of identity symbols has been a feature throughout the book as oil and wine were used as both markers of distinction and connection since the Bronze Age. In other words, identities can be generated both “oppositionally” and “aggregatively” through perceived similarities (Hall 2009, 607). The common production of oil and wine (although different customs of consumption) between Greeks and, for example, Near Eastern cultures leads to more fluid interaction and even exchange of ideas. Oil and wine were exchanged between the Aegean and the Levant alongside finished goods that acted as primary prestige symbols within the Mycenaean palace economy. A good example of the transmission of ideas across cultural boundaries through the common practice of wine drinking is the eventual adoption by the Greeks in the later part of the Archaic era of the reclining banquet from Near Eastern neighbors who had been using couches (Greek klinai) for centuries (Boardman 1990; Murray 2009, 514; Hobden 2013, 9 n. 19; Baughan 2013). This might also be the case with the practice of anointing oneself with oil, a very ancient Near Eastern and Egyptian tradition (see Fappas 2012 for the Bronze Age roots of this similarity). Oil and wine therefore have a long history of commodities that simultaneously act as a means of group identification or cohesion and group delineation or segregation. At the beginning of this book, Thucydides’ “Archaeology” or “account of early events” (Histories 1.2.1–2) was highlighted as a picture of how the fifthcentury Greek believed the people inhabiting Greece before him lived. He presents quite a stark, barren, and isolated existence when people lived nomadically incapable of planting, specifically, fruit trees. This book aimed to show, through the lens of oil and wine, that Thucydides’s concept of his own past was far from reality. In fact, despite a fluctuating climate and dramatic changes to sociopolitical structures, pre-Hellenes achieved and maintained all of the attributes that Thucydides thought they lacked. This book traced how people did indeed cultivate olive trees and grapevines from almost the outset of settled life on the archipelago and Crete. The Minoan palatial era marked the start of extensive production and exchange of oil and wine, culminating in an entanglement that moved beyond dependence to dependency. This entanglement surrounding oil and wine was then maintained and even strengthened in the Mycenaean palatial era as social and commercial networks expanded further. Not only did people continue to cultivate the olive and grapevine after the collapse of the Mycenaean palaces around 1200 BCE, but they also adopted innovative and adaptive solutions to the problems faced by climate change and population movements. Production shifted toward more hospitable regions at the same time that exchange networks were maintained, even across the Aegean. By the end of the Early Iron Age and beginning of the Archaic era,

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it was increasingly clear that the regional entanglements surrounding oil and wine were expanding and interacting at more complex levels. The close of the pre-Classical period marks the point when Greek oil and wine, as cultural commodities, were deeply entrenched within group identity, produced in large quantities of surplus, and exchanged over vast stretches of the Mediterranean. The pre-history of oil and wine, therefore, challenges longheld notions of decline, isolation, and darkness. These cultural commodities were as much entangled in Greece’s past as they are in Greece’s future. LEARNING FROM THE PAST: CLIMATE CHANGE AND THE FUTURE OF GREEK OIL AND WINE

I would like to conclude by addressing the implications of this historical study to modern issues of agriculture, commerce, and the Mediterranean’s changing environment. As outlined in Chapter 1, an historical ecology approach takes a long-term perspective that encompasses not only the past but also the future. One of the main purposes of this approach is to understand long-term human– environmental interactions in order to avoid, mitigate, and reverse adverse ecological effects in the future (Van der Leeuw et al. 2011; Armstrong et al. 2017). In doing so, there is a possibility of learning future possibilities from history. In Greece, olive oil and wine have remained cultural commodities, defining identity and forming a staple of livelihood and diet. Greece still leads the world in per capita olive oil consumption with each person consuming nearly 18 kg yearly, according to figures from the European Commission (followed in a distant second by Spain 12.6 kg, Italy 10.9 kg, Cyprus 7.5 kg, Portugal 7.4 kg, and France 1.7 kg; Butler 2013). Moreover, olive culture has a very strong social component since labor costs represent about 80 percent of the oil’s production costs (Benoit and Comeau 2005, 269). The number of people needed to tend and harvest olives on a large scale means that many peoples’ livelihoods are based entirely or in part on olive oil. Indeed, research conducted in 1999 on the island of Lesbos found that out of 176 olive grove operators, over 90 percent said the prevailing reason for continued cultivation was purely for pleasure. The second most popular reason (for 75 percent of the operators) was the preservation of their ancestral heritage and about 90 percent of the operators said they would like their descendants to continue cultivating olives on their land in the future (Giourga et al. 2008). Production of wine also requires large labor forces yet the scale of viticulture in Greece is slightly smaller than olive oil. Until 2009, around 80 percent of Greek wine was sold within Greece itself, although this is rapidly changing, a point to which we will return later (Anson 2012). As the Mediterranean once again enters into dramatic climate change today, it is important to understand more fully the outcomes of these changes in the

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past and how populations adapted to and, eventually, thrived in new conditions. According to some current models used by climate experts, a hypothetical average global warming of 1℃ is expected to occur between now and 2025 and is projected to have multiple effects in the Mediterranean. First, a warming would occur ranging from 0.7℃ to 1.6℃ depending on the area. Warming would be highest in the Mediterranean Basin with a rise in summer temperature twice that in northern Europe. The mean monthly temperature during the Mediterranean warm season has the potential to increase by 2℃ by 2030 and 4℃ by 2061–2090 (Moriondo et al. 2013, 828). In addition, harsh winters would disappear by 2080 and hot summers would become more frequent (Benoit and Comeau 2005, 30). Second, there will be significant changes in rainfall during both winter and spring, with an increase in rainfall in the north and a decrease in the south. In summer, a decrease in rainfall is expected in both the north and south with the eastern Mediterranean region experiencing decreases in excess of 20 percent from 2001 to 2030, 30 percent from 2031 to 2060, and 35 percent from 2061 to 2090 (Moriondo et al. 2013, 828; IPCC 2007). In autumn, a reduction in rainfall is expected in the west but an increase in the east and center. A decrease in total rainfall has already been observed during the twentieth century in some Mediterranean areas and in North Africa (Benoit and Comeau 2005, 30). Finally, there will be an increase in the frequency, intensity, and duration of extreme meteorological events. These include heat waves, summer drought, winter floods, and mudslides in the north of the basin. One of the biggest issues that Greece will face in the coming years is the availability and accessibility of freshwater resources. The Mediterranean in general is experiencing rising costs in water supply as dam sites are progressively used up, water tables are significantly lowered, and the distances between abstraction points and the water’s use are increased. Greece, in particular, is hard-hit by these trends since the country’s landscape is very bimodal – the very wet areas are very distant from the very arid areas. In addition, on Crete, the Mesara valley has experienced 30 m falls in the water tables over the last 10 years (Benoit and Comeau 2005, 86). This trend will continue as long as Greece maintains its high level of irrigation. In Greece, 38 percent of arable land and permanent crops are irrigated – one of the highest percentages in the basin (compare, e.g., Israel 46 percent, Cyprus 27 percent, Italy 25 percent). Combined with other factors, this trend results in rapidly increasing desertification whereby Greece, Spain, and Italy are the hardest-hit countries of Mediterranean Europe (Benoit and Comeau 2005, 269). These changes will have a profound effect on all ranges of agriculture in the Mediterranean Basin, but especially on the cultivation of olives and grapes. This, in turn, will affect the world’s consumption of these two commodities considering that in 2003, 95 percent of the world’s olive oil production (more

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than 2.5 million tons) took place in the Mediterranean. The main producing countries (from greater to smaller) are currently Spain, Italy, Greece, Turkey, Syria, and Tunisia, although this order has been and will be changing rapidly. Moreover, it is important to take into account the fact that world demand for olive oil has practically doubled over the last 40 years and trade has increased by a factor of five. It is unlikely that this demand on the Mediterranean region will decrease any time soon (Benoit and Comeau 2005, 269). Olive trees and grapevines are extremely sensitive to climate change and react in different ways. Some experts believe that the olive tree will face “the greatest climatic change that has been recorded since its spread into the Mediterranean Basin” (Moriondo et al. 2013, 818). As a result, the areas capable of cultivating olive trees are expected to adapt. Detailed studies measuring current climate changes and their effects on olive growing regions within the next 50 years predict that the increasing temperatures and aridity in the Mediterranean region will expand potentially cultivatable areas for olive growing by 25 percent toward the north and higher altitudes.3 At the same time, these studies show that southerly areas using rain-fed techniques will no longer be sustainable (Moriondo et al. 2013, 818; Tanasijevic et al. 2014, 54). In addition, general decreases in natural rainwater could be intensified due to longer and more frequent dry spells. The areas that are predicted to be highly affected by these rain-fed agricultural changes include the southern regions of the Iberian countries, Italy, and Greece (Tanasijevic et al. 2014, 66). Future models suggest that in Greece the regions north of Attica, including the western coast and Albania, will not be viable for olive production as soon as 2030. In contrast, increased moisture in the mountainous region of southwestern Crete will be able to sustain olives, even though it currently does not have olive cultivation. Interestingly, the model also predicted that from 2031 to 2060, the Peloponnese will sustain olives as today, but in different inland regions and at higher elevations that will be cooler and wetter. By 2060–2090, even less of the Peloponnese will be viable, mainly restricted to the southwest (Moriondo et al. 2013) Trends in historical grapevine reaction to climate change, combined with modern climate predictions, suggest a similar set of problems in terms of shifting growing regions and resulting quality adjustments. Climate change toward drier, warmer environments result in a general reduction of grape yields combined with a decrease in quality induced by higher temperatures during the growing season (Moriondo 2010, 565). Higher temperatures force grapevine development to take place earlier and with a shorter growth period. The shorter berry-ripening time combined with lower rainfall and longer dry spells during the growth season result in a gradual reduction in the final yield. This trend is shown to be exacerbated at higher elevations (400–600 m above sea level), areas that are at the current limit of the grapevine cultivation area. The

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areas currently suitable for viticulture are predicted to decrease by 25–73 percent in major wine-producing regions by 2050. Vine cultivation will be forced to move toward higher elevations and higher latitudes. Attempts to maintain vine quality and productivity in drying areas will result in increased water use through misting or sprinkling, which has the potential to contribute to freshwater conservation issues (Hannah et al. 2013). In addition to general increases in aridity and temperature, extreme meteorological events have already started to intensify. Most affected are places where fresh water is already at a premium. Crete in particular has felt the pressure of these rapid climate swings over the last 10 years and the olive industry, which makes up 57 percent of the island’s total value of exports, has been hard hit. In 2013, exceptionally warm winds blew in from Africa with increased frequency causing temperatures to rise to over 40℃ for long periods of time. This climate anomaly resulted in the total olive oil yield being less than half of the island’s average (20,000 tons vs. 45,000 tons; Tejada 2013). That one climate event resulted in about 200 million Euros in income losses while production was lowered by 70 percent. Two years later, however, Crete experienced the opposite end of the climate spectrum when olive oil exports grew fivefold in 2015, up by 518 percent due to an especially abundant harvest season in 2014 (Radinovsky 2015). Although climate change toward drier and warmer conditions results in the unviability of some areas that were once highly compatible to viticulture or oleiculture, at the same time other regions will become suitable or will produce better, higher-quality yields. In effect, climate change toward warmer, drier conditions does not necessitate a discontinuation of olive or grape production, but rather has the ability to shift growing regions considerably, resulting in different areas (generally northward and/or higher) having the capability to produce more and better-quality olive oil and wine. Ultimately, the downfall of human populations comes not only from climate change, but also from the unwillingness to effectively adapt. Indeed, leading experts in the field have stated that “climate change calls for preventative, curative and adaptive responses” (Benoit and Comeau 2005, 30). This is when looking at changes to agriculture over long periods of time in the past can have edificatory benefits. The trends in production and exchange of commodities like oil and wine that are visible in the archaeological record of the pre-Classical eras can point toward adaptations that ancient people made in response to climate change. These adaptations, in turn, have the potential to help us develop preventative measures that preemptively account for the types of environmental changes that will take place over the next century. Although our current socio-environmental situation is radically different from that of the past, the underlying agents of change remain similar, such as dramatic population shifts and the continuous need for fresh water. Over the course of the pre-

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Classical eras addressed in this book, people adapted to their changing environment in innovative ways. Increased anomalies, such as flash floods, and an unstable bimodal climate led to the construction of terraces, dams, canals, and reservoirs in the Minoan and Mycenaean palatial eras. Extreme shifts to colder and drier conditions in the Early Iron Age resulted in people changing primary agricultural products (barley instead of wheat) and gradually moving cultivation of more sensitive crops (such as olive trees and grapevines) to areas more conducive to their survival (generally higher elevations and northward). These adaptations and changes to agricultural strategies in the pre-Classical periods are applicable today, with some modifications. Moreover, if implemented soon, Greece’s olive oil and wine industry could not only survive, but thrive. This potential strengthening to agricultural production is due primarily to Greece’s overall abundance of fresh water compared to the rest of the basin. Unlike almost all other Mediterranean countries, the overall available fresh water in Greece is expected to remain constant. This boon is due primarily to the abundance of water-rich mountainous regions. This is in contrast to other olive oil and wine producing countries such as Spain, Italy, and Tunisia where freshwater resources are expected to decline. Indeed, this would not be the first time Greece’s unique natural environment has helped alleviate climate issues in the rest of the basin. When the Little Ice Age destroyed olive trees throughout the Mediterranean, Crete became a major supplier of olive oil and was exporting an average of 1,600 tons of oil a year to Marseilles alone by the 1730s (Rackham and Moody 1996, 82). However, Greece’s water resources come with a condition. That is, the location of fresh water is distinctly contained in specific regions (generally northwest as well as the central Peloponnese) leaving the rest of the country, including the islands, extremely water-poor. This discrepancy will necessitate even more innovative infrastructure to move water from one area to another. Taking a look at the past, this infrastructure could take the form of canals for shorter overland distances. Yet these infrastructure-based solutions tend to work only in the short-term. Indeed, as climate change progressed in the past, water management features were abandoned (although for multiple reasons). Instead, long-term climate change required shifts in the growing locations themselves. Instead of bringing the water to the crops, it was necessary to bring the crops to the water. In the short-term, this solution would seem very unlikely to gain favor with farmers who own the land on which they grow their olive trees and grapevines and where they have established decades-old orchards and vineyards. However, as fresh water becomes more expensive and the once rain-fed regions are no longer viable, there may not be any other choice. At that point, it may be too late for smaller-scale producers to move their operations due to lack of resources that were perhaps spent on trying to maintain failing production. Instead, it would be most beneficial for producers

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and administrators to recognize the oncoming and inevitable changes and perhaps offer incentives to start preparing for movements to regions that will shortly become the best places to grow olives and grapes. This is obviously no easy task. But based on the models for olive and grapevine reactions presented earlier, we can reasonably predict where those regions will be in the near future. Beyond these agricultural strategies, the pre-Classical era has the potential to guide choices that could improve the overall value of Greek olive oil and wine on a global scale. First, the idea of “branding” has come up multiple times over the course of this book. Greek oil and wine often received a recognizable status on the broader Mediterranean market based on the consistent “look” of their containers (Wengrow 2008; Bevan 2010). Whether producers intended for this result or not, the creation of an Aegean “brand” of these two commodities propelled their demand in foreign regions. This is especially the case for Late Bronze Age stirrup jars and early Archaic-era SOS amphoras. Both of those containers were copied in increasingly diverse regions of the Mediterranean suggestive of their recognizable value within local markets. This “branding” strategy has been severely neglected by Greek olive oil producers in the modern era. Instead of creating their own distinctive containers and marketing their own oil, producers sell their products in bulk to other regions where it is repackaged and branded as deriving from that region. Up to 10 years ago, 95 percent of Cretan olive oil was sold in bulk to Italy where it was repackaged and branded as Italian. Since then, although this has changed to 45 percent with another 5 percent going to Spain, there is still much more room for improvement (Radinovsky 2015). Selling in bulk means lower overhead costs, but extremely low returns compared to packaging and selling directly to consumers. Indeed, only 4 percent of Greek olive oil is exported to the United States, and Americans are largely unaware of its high quality. At the same time, there is a great potential for Greek olive oil brands to succeed. The high quality and cold-press extraction technique of most olive oil in Greece qualifies four-fifths to be designated as extra-virgin, compared with about two-thirds in Italy and one-third in Spain (Meneley 2007; Glader 2015). In addition, there is great potential for the Greek olive oil industry to capitalize on the organic agriculture trend. By 2001, only 0.8 percent of cultivated land in Greece was using organic agriculture compared to Italy’s leading 11.4 percent. If adopted on a large scale, creating specialized brands for Greek olive oil has the potential to increase profits and industry viability during the upcoming climatic changes. The Greek wine industry, once following a similar trend to olive oil, has started to embrace the “branding” strategy. Until 2009, around 80 percent of Greek wine was sold within Greece itself, not tapping into a broader, more lucrative market. This is changing in recent years, however, as Greek wine

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producers are starting to brand their products and market their wines around the world. Not only are the varieties of grapes unique to Greece (Assyrtiko, Moschofilero, Agiorgitiko, and Xinomavro) becoming internationally recognized, but producers have also started to create distinctive brands highlighted by unique label designs (Anson 2012; Vlachvei et al. 2012). Now, Greek wine is shipped to more than thirty-five countries with three countries – Germany, France, and the United States – representing about 66 percent of the total volume exported (Daniels 2015). According to the data released by EDOAO, the National Inter-Professional Organization of Vine and Wine, Greek wine exports to the United States and Canada have increased by 39 and 55 percent, respectively, in the last 5 years (Zikakou 2016). This is a tremendous improvement that demonstrates the effectiveness of creating a distinctive Greek brand and marketing it on a global scale. As the Mediterranean approaches uncertain times, it is important to take a critical look at long-term past trends. Our current situation will not be identical to the problems experienced by ancient people. The past does not necessarily repeat itself. But we must be vigilant and use the successes and failures that have come before to shape the unique way we will approach our own challenges, whether they are environmental, demographic, or social. For Greece, olive oil and wine played a critical role in the shaping of Greek culture. This did not happen spontaneously, but rather built up over millennia. Nor was it a linear process but was filled with setbacks and resurgences. Throughout it all, though, the resiliency of people and the connections and dependencies between people, oil, and wine solidified the place of these commodities within the entanglement of people and things that makes up Greek existence. The production, exchange, and consumption of oil and wine developed both unifying and dividing characteristics that ultimately created the common feeling of belonging to a certain group, or not. In this way, both oil and wine became entangled in the set of symbols that eventually came to define the “Greek” cultural group. That symbolism of oil and wine continues today. Not only are they indispensable to Greek social practice today, but they are also becoming representatives of Greek culture to the world. The upcoming challenge will be to support these two commodities to their full potential as champions of Greek culture. Although the future of Greece’s oil and wine industry is unclear, there is hope. By talking about these modern problems in relation to the past, we are more likely to find effective solutions.

NOTES

1

INTRODUCTION 1. Indeed, modern scholars have long considered oil and wine to be defining aspects of ancient Mediterranean culture. In that seminal work, The Emergence of Civilization (1972), Renfrew demonstrated how the production of surplus olive oil and wine was critical to the formation of complex societies in the third millennium BCE. Similarly, broadscoped works such as Braudel’s The Mediterranean and the Mediterranean World in the Age of Phillip II (1972), Horden and Purcell’s The Corrupting Sea (2000), and Broodbank’s The Making of the Middle Sea (2013), have all argued for a consistency in the status of olive oil and wine as valued staples within Mediterranean societies. See also Amouretti and Brun 1991; Hamilakis 1999; Brun 2003, 2004; McGovern 1995, 2003, 2009; Foxhall 2007. 2. Book XIV: covering over 91 varieties of vine, 38 varieties of foreign wine, 7 kinds of salted wines, 18 varieties of sweet wine, and the list goes on. 3. Morris 1891; LSJ: “plant with fruit-trees”; see also Hornblower 1991, 9–10. 4. See more recently, for example, Morris 1992; Whitley 1991; Papadopoulos 1994, 2014; Foxhall 1995; Osborne 1996; Langdon 1997; Mazarakis-Ainian 1997, 2001, 2011; Tandy 1997; Morris 1999; Wallace 2000, 2006, 2010; Eder 2004; Deger-Jalkotzy and Lemos 2006; Dickinson 2006; Lemos 2007; DegerJalkotzy and Bächle 2009; Dickinson 2009; Jung 2009; Crielaard 2011; Knodell 2013; Feldman 2014; Kotsonas 2016; Murray 2017. 5. For the introduction of oil and wine in Greece, see, for example, Renfrew 1972, Valamoti 1998, Margaritis 2013, Blitzer 2014, Valamoti et al. 2015, Valamoti et al. 2018. For the Classical period and later, see, for example,

Margaritis and Jones 2006, Margaritis and Jones 2008, Kelly-Blazeby 2008, Margaritis 2014, Vogeikoff-Brogan et al. 2014, Diler et al. 2015. See also Brun 2003, 2004 for general overviews of oil and wine production from the Bronze Age to the Roman period. 6. Oil (e.g., Hadjisavvas 2003, Foxhall 2007, Blitzer 2014); Wine (e.g., Palmer 1994, Stanley 1999, McGovern 2003, 2009; McGovern et al. 1996; Bennett 2002; Mylopotamitaki 2002; Papakonstantinou 2009); amphoras (e.g., Lawall 1995, 2004, 2005, 2011; Whitbread 1995; Eiring and Lund 2004). 7. See recent publications from sites such as Lefkandi (Antonaccio 2002, Evely 2006, Lemos and Mitchell 2011), Oropos (Mazarakis Ainian 2002, 2007), Zagora (Gounaris 2015), Mitrou (van de Moortel and Zahou 2005, 2011, Rückl 2008, Kramer-Hajos and O’Neill 2008), central Greece (Kramer-Hajos 2008), Achaea (Giannopoulos 2008), Eretria (Crielaard 2007, Verdan 2013, 2015), Perati (Murray 2018), Elateia (Deger-Jalkotzy 1990, 1999, 2003, 2004, Dakoronia 2004, Dakoronia et al. 2009); and in general see, for example, Mazarakis Ainian 1997, Lemos 2002, DegerJalkotzy and Zavadil 2003, Thomatos 2006, Deger-Jalkotzy and Zavadil 2007, DegerJalkotzy and Bächle 2009. 8. See most recently, for example, Tzedakis and Martlew 1999, Halstead and Barrett 2004, Megaloudi 2004, Valamoti 2005, Livarda and Kotzamani 2006, Margaritis and Jones 2006, 2008, 2014, Mee and Renard 2007, Hitchcock et al. 2008, Tzedakis et al. 2008, Sarpaki 2012, Voutsaki and Valamoti 2013, Spataro and Villing 2015, Papathanasiou et al. 2015, Hruby and Trusty 2017.

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9. Olive trees will not yield an optimal crop until they are 25–35 years old, whereas grapevines take between 10 and 15 years (Valamoti et al. 2018, 177; Gillman et al. 1981). In addition, the labor required for optimal performance of both plants is quite high, though olive tree labor tends to be spread throughout the year while grapevines require not only maintenance throughout the year but also a concerted effort to harvest quickly in the fall (Pliny Nat. Hist. 14.3, 15.2; see also Chatterton 2003, 2004; Traher 2007; and Roussos 2007 for details on the labor and techniques required to maintain olive groves in different Mediterranean environments). 10. There are a few accounts of olive stones present in Neolithic sites in Thessaly, Macedonia, and at Dimini, but they have since been identified as later intrusions or misidentifications (see Valamoti et al. 2018, 184). More concrete finds of olive stones are reported from Euboea and Crete dating to the fourth millennium BCE (Valamoti 2009). The olive does not seem to have been cultivated in northern Greece until the historical periods with a northern boundary of Thessaly and the northeastern Aegean islands holding until the end of the ninth century BCE when some olive remains have been recovered at Krania Pierias (Margaritis 2007), Thessaloniki Toumba (sixth century), and Argilos (fifth century; Valamoti et al. 2018, 186). Olive pollen records (as opposed to stone or charcoal) in the north show some indication for olive growth during the Late Bronze Age. The peak of olive pollen, however, remains between the Archaic and Roman periods. 11. It is possible that in areas where wood was plentiful, press installations were made from wood such as oak (Sarpaki 2012, 215 n. 8; Foxhall 2007, 202). 12. Brun (2009), however, points out that this idea is not grounded in textual sources or archaeological evidence and would contradict most of the historical and ethnographic tradition. 13. Many more Cretan pressing installations have been identified or published since 1993 and recent excavations at Akrotiri on Thera have also produced both Type I and Type III installations, presented in Chapters 2 and 3. 14. Jouanna 1996; Lambrou-Philipson and Phillipson 2002, 69–70; Morris 2008, 114. Wine was used to wash the wounds of the

Homeric heroes and later warriors in battle, which suggests that wine was added to water for “clearly antiseptic, antibacterial purposes” for making water safer either for drinking or dressing wounds. A large number of bacteria are killed by wine including the common causes of food poisoning, for example, E. coli, Salmonella, and Staphylococcus. Cholera and typhoid germs are killed within 15 minutes of exposure to red or white wine, irrespective of whether the wine is mixed with water or not. Marinating foods in wine has additional benefits from taste: this has to do with the alcohol, but also due to the various bioflavonoids, phytoalexines, proanthocyanidines, like quercetin, resveratrol, and many others, active as powerful antioxidants and free radical scavengers, fungicides and cholesterol regulators (Rimm et al. 1991; Carper 1994; Lambrou-Philipson and Phillipson 2002, 69–70). 15. The idea of “entanglement” has multiple definitions and contexts. One definition has entanglement rooted in postcolonial theories of cultural contact, as an alternative to ideas such as “hybridity,” “creolization,” or “mixing” more generally (Thomas 1991; Stockhammer 2013). Here, entanglement will generally reference the theory promoted by Ian Hodder. However, mixing is an important aspect or result of entanglements that will be brought out throughout the book. 16. Hodder’s definition of “thing” does not follow the strong distinction made by Ingold (2011, 5) and others (e.g., van der Leeuw 2008) between “object” and “thing” (but see Knappett 2011a). In the latter, it is possible to make a thing an object by giving it meaning within an interpretive framework (see also van der Leeuw 2008). Although there is some overlap, in this book, I will maintain Hodder’s definition of “thing” and “object,” where “object” can be simply something more tangible and “thing” is all-encompassing (Hodder 2012, 7–8). 17. It is useful here to tap into the language of network theory. Network theory, however, is a topic of immense scope spanning multiple fields of inquiry. For archaeological applications in the Mediterranean, see, among others, Brughmans 2010; Knappett 2011a, 2011b, 2013; Knappett and Malafouris 2008; Knappett and Nikolakopoulou 2005; Evans and Knappett 2009. For a more historical approach to the use of networks, see

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18.

19.

20.

21.

Brysbaert 2011; Malkin 2003, 2011; Malkin et al. 2009; Collar 2007. For social and sociopolitical networks, see Muson and Macri 2009; Carrington, Scott and Wasserman 2005; Knox, Savage and Harvey 2006; Wasserman and Faust 1994. Here, I use the variable of centrality, which in network theory, describes the number of edges/links connected to a particular node (Borgatti 2005; Newman, Barabási and Watts 2006; Mizoguchi 2009). This does not mean that entanglements are merely networks or that the ideas that make up network theory can be haphazardly grafted onto entanglement theory (Hodder and Mol 2015). Rather, I believe that the concept of centrality, in particular, is useful for the visualization of entanglements. For a thorough overview of the concept of “value” in anthropological literature, see Papadopoulos and Urton 2012. This is similar to the concepts of “regimes of value” and the “social life of things” espoused by Appadurai and Kopytoff (1986). The post-humanist approach (e.g., Appadurai 1986, Kopytoff 1986, Latour 2005) is in opposition to humanist perspectives of traditional political economy theories from Adam Smith (1776) to David Ricardo (1817) to Marx (1906 [1867]) and even Polanyi (1944) who supported a labor theory of value where value was constructed at the point of production. The humanist perspective continued, though altered with the introduction of the idea that humans are nonrational, by Malinowski (1922), Mauss (1923–1924), and even Bourdieu (1977) with his theories of habitus and doxa. For an overview of the history of economic anthropology and its application to the ancient world, see Scheidel, Morris, and Saller 2007; Manning and Morris 2005; Walsh 2014; see also Carrier 2005. Although this cultural economy paradigm was created out of the globalized, market-driven world that we live in, the term “market” here does not necessarily mean the first-world Stock Market or even post-industrialist mass-commodity markets. Instead, we should understand “market” to mean the liminal space between production and consumption that, in turn, affects the nature of production and consumption (Callon and Muniesa 2005, 1229). Therefore, to say that the cultural economy paradigm is market-centric, means that the

22.

23.

24.

25.

26.

27.

28. 29.

30. 31.

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construction of value is placed at the point of exchange. Callon 1991. This idea of embeddedness is in opposition to Polanyi’s idea of embeddedness, since Polanyi considered actors to be embedded within a stable institutional frame, constituting the context in which economic activities take place (Polanyi 1957). While these three categories may seem basic, it will become apparent throughout the book that they are nevertheless fitting for the archaeological and textual evidence available from the prehistoric period of Greece. For example, the “potlatch” of the Northwest Coast of North America (Boas 1897), South America (Hayden and Villeneuve 2011), Near East (Schmandt-Besserat 2001), Greek Symposium (Lissarrague 1990; Murray 1990), Rome, and so on. See, for example, Malinowski 1922; Mauss 1923–1924; Bourdieu 1977; Godelier 1999. For a recent compilation of the most relevant scholarship on the Gift from the last century including work by Mauss, Levi-Strauss, Sahlins, and Bourdieu, see Schrift 1997. See most recently, Carlà and Gori 2014; Satlow 2013; Nakassis, Galaty, and Parkinson 2016; Algazi, Goebner, and Jussen 2003; Lyons 2012. Indeed, feasting and gift exchange have been largely inseparable from Marcel Mauss’ (1923–1924) The Gift to Michael Dietler’s work (e.g., 2001). Gregory 1980; Mauss 1990, 230; Berking 1999; Godelier 1999. Other designations exist, such as “transport jars” (e.g., the transport stirrup jar or Canaanite jar) and “maritime transport containers” (Knapp and Demesticha 2016). Here, “amphora(s)” will be used as an all-encompassing term when discussing transport containers more generally. See also discussion in Knapp and Manning 2016. It has become quite clear that subregions of the Mediterranean reacted to climate change in different ways depending on the general location of the area (East/West, North/South) and its particular characteristics (e.g., elevation). A high number of palaeoclimatic and palaeoenvironmental studies from the central Mediterranean to the Middle East point to unquestionable but often poorly correlated climatic events. Spatial temperature variability in

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particular can be quite substantial, even over short distances (Finné et al. 2011). For example, between 3250 and 2150 BCE cooler conditions are evident in the northern Aegean subregion and the southwest coast of Italy, along with Romania and northeast Italy. At the same time, however, warmer conditions are outlined from the southeastern Aegean (Triantaphyllou et al. 2009). While these opposing signals might be explained by the relative dominance between competing air masses (North Atlantic Oscillation and North Sea-Caspian Pattern Index), they nevertheless highlight the importance of microclimates and regional variability when attempting to reconstruct the effects of climate change on human– environment relationships (Lionello 2012, 89; Finné et al. 2014). 32. Precise chronologies for both the palaeoclimatic proxy data and the archaeological data are fundamentally important for making any hypotheses about the relationship between the two datasets. Varying availability of such accurate chronologies will influence the resolution of arguments and the number of possible links one can discern among multivariate datasets (Weiberg et al. 2016). Depending on the time period and geographical location, archaeological chronologies can be greatly debated. This book will attempt to find a middle ground that includes the most recent and widely accepted chronologies for the Prehistoric Aegean (discussed earlier). For the climatic proxy data, each record (speleothem, lake core, etc.) will have its own internal chronological inconsistencies. Problems arise from limited availability of high-resolution palaeoarchives and problems of dating techniques (e.g., C14). In general, it is possible to mitigate those inconsistencies by considering multiple proxy records together with an integrated approach, as discussed earlier. 33. I thank an anonymous reviewer for this suggestion. 34. This north/south discrepancy is particularly interesting given that the dramatic Theran eruption is estimated to have occurred between 1700 and 1600 BCE (see, e.g., Manning 1999; Warburton 2009). The absence of significant recorded climate shifts in the south suggests that the deterioration in the northern Aegean was not provoked by that event.

35. The presence of drier conditions is supported by a pollen core from Lake Kournas, Crete, which had Tilia pollen before 1400 BCE that disappears entirely from 1400 to 1000 BCE. Moody (2005) suggests that the disappearance of Tilia implies that annual drought levels reached a point beyond which the tree could not survive. The fact that this species of tree does not currently grow naturally in Crete might support the aforementioned view that the period after 1450 BCE ushered in a bimodal climate, similar to present day (Tsonis et al. 2010, 529). 36. Marine records indicate decreasing temperatures in the Adriatic around 1050–850 BCE and off the southern part of the west coast of Italy 1150–450 BCE. 37. Finné et al. 2011, 3162 with citations. Palynological records from Lebanon suggest increasing aridity after 1200 BCE with severe aridity and desert-like conditions around 700 BCE (Kaniewski et al. 2008). Palynological data from alluvial deposits near Gibala-Tell Tweini suggest that drier climatic conditions occurred in the Mediterranean belt of Syria (coastal Syria) from the late thirteenth/early twelfth centuries BCE to the ninth/eighth centuries BCE. Kaniewski et al. (2010) connect this abrupt climate change at the end of the Late Bronze Age to region-wide crop failures (Kaniewski et al. 2010). In contrast, Glais et al. (in press) identified by pollen data in the area of Dikili Tash that at the transition from the Late Bronze Age to the Iron Age (ca. 1350–1050 BCE) there was an increase in the water level of the marsh leading to the development of wetlands. The authors attribute this change to the “Mediterraneanization” of the climate in the Aegean area after ca. 1550 BCE that resulted in intensification in winter-season precipitation and summer aridity (Kuhnt et al., 2008; Psomiadis et al. 2018). 38. There does indeed seem to be an increase in precipitation in some regions that had been experiencing aridity, yet other regions became more arid where there were previously wetter conditions. In the Peloponnese, wetter conditions are inferred around 850, 700, and 500 BCE (Finné et al. 2014). However, a drying trend from 950 to 450 BCE is suggested for the northern Aegean from a stalagmite in Kapsia cave, supported by a sediment record from Asea Valley, where wetter conditions lasting

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until 750 BCE transitioned into a period of aridity (Finné et al. 2014). 39. Indeed, many of these traditional groves have olive trees that are hundreds or perhaps even thousands of years old. 40. It is also important to note that different varieties of grapevine will respond differently to warming. For example, an increase in temperature from 20 to 30°C increased the weight of bunch primordia four times in Riesling but Shiraz was unaffected (Dunn 2005). In general, red varieties appear to tolerate warm conditions better than white varieties (Schultz and Jones 2010, 141). As mentioned earlier, however, there is no evidence that there were different varieties of grapevine in the ancient world as we have today (all were Vitis vinifera). However, these data help identify general patterns of reactions to warming during different seasons. 41. The period designations used here are generally accepted in the field. The absolute dates, however, are often objects of much debate involving long arguments over scientifically derived dates (radiocarbon, dendrochronology, ice cores, etc.) versus archaeologically based dates (stylistic changes to ceramics, etc.). Here, I provide numbers meant to orient the reader to the general time frame covered in this book while providing specific reasons for altering certain dates. For overviews of the most current information on absolutes dates of the prehistoric period in the Eastern Mediterranean, see, for example, Knapp and Manning 2016; Manning 2010, 23, table 2.2; Dickinson 2006, 23; and Papadopoulos 2003, 146. For a discussion of the chronology of the Iron Age on Crete, see Kotsonas 2008, 31–41. My choices regarding the time periods and regions of Greece covered in my work have to do primarily with where evidence for the three main modes of exchange – commensal, gift, and commercial – was most plentiful. It was also necessary to consider the quantity of excavations, surveys, and published archaeological records.

2

DEVELOPING A RELATIONSHIP OF DEPENDENCY 1. Wine (but not olive oil) was produced in northern Greece about the same time as on Crete as indicated by residue analyses and

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archaeobotanical remains from eating and drinking equipment related to relatively largescale commensal events (Valamoti et al. 2015, 2018). For the Late Bronze Age, trends in the styles of local drinking equipment, as well as the increasing presence of imported drinking wares from southern Greece, suggest a vibrant local use of wine in social context. To date, however, there are no indications that wine was produced on a large-enough scale to warrant the production of amphoras or other designated transport containers. Moreover, the evidence for the actual production of wine, such as pressing facilities, is unidentified. The lack of published archaeological information from excavated sites in northern Greece with Bronze Age levels makes it difficult to reconstruct with any certainty the role of wine in the sociocultural contexts of this region. This situation changes dramatically for the Early Iron Age and Archaic period when northern Greek settlements are increasingly entangled in the production, distribution, and consumption of surplus wine, a topic to which Chapters 5 and 6 return. 2. EM I (3200–2700 BCE) site of Aphrodite’s Kephali near Ierapetra, East Crete, was a short-lived hilltop fort with at least nine pithoi holding both olive oil and wine; one pithos could hold 150–165 kg. This is the earliest evidence for large amounts of both commodities (Koh and Betancourt 2010). The amount of time needed for the development of olive groves that were assumed to exist in Neopalatial culture is often underestimated. For this reason alone, it seems likely that intensive manipulation of the olive plant would have had to begin in the Early Bronze Age at the latest (Blitzer 2014, 242). 3. The term “palace” is perhaps best seen as a commonly used holdover from early archaeological exploration on the island. The term “central-court building” is a more neutral description of these structures, allowing for multiple interpretations and functions, but perhaps betraying the building’s significance. Here, both terms will be used for the sake of variation but with full knowledge of the limitations of each. 4. The Neopalatial era corresponds to MM III through LM IB in ceramic terminology. For the divisions of Protopalatial and Neopalatial Crete, see Macdonald and Knappett (2013).

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5. As discussed in the Introduction, it is also possible that olives (and grapes) were processed in ways that are archaeologically invisible or in countrysides where excavations rarely take place. 6. In fact, Kopaka (1997) calculated another more than forty ceramic presses since the publication in 1993 found in central and east Crete (Kopaka, K. 1997. The vine and wine in the Prehistoric Aegean. In Conference Proceedings of the Hellenic Chemists, entitled Yesterday, today and tomorrow of the Cretan wine products. Herakleio, 21–44). 7. A few cases of iconography prove more promising, including an ivory seal from Chrysolakkos on Crete dated to MM I–MM II. The scene inscribed seems to depict a single person crushing grapes with their feet in a small, cylindrical vat that resembles Type I installations (Platon and Kopaka 1993, 86). Parallels for this type of pressing technique can be seen on wall paintings in Egypt, New Kingdom (Beitak 1986). 8. See Platon and Kopaka 1993, 100–101, for a more detailed description; also Brun 2004, 74–75. 9. For example, Epano Zakros Villa, Kato Zakros House B, North-East House, Hogarth’s House A, Hogarth’s House E, Hogarth’s House I, East Building, House A, Building G; see Platon and Kopaka 1993, 55–59, nos. 25–32 and “divers.” 10. Santorini remains a well-known producer of wine. Not only do they grow particular indigenous varieties of white grapes (e.g., Assyrtiko), but they have a unique way of training the vines to grow on the ground in a circle to minimize evapotranspiration and protect the vines from strong wind (Sarpaki 2012, 218, 219, fig. 6). 11. www.armenianheritage.org/en/monument/ Agarak/241; Pers. comm. Kristine Martirosyan-Olshansky, January 2015. 12. https://simplyspain.wordpress.com/2011/09/ 26/vino-pinxtos-amor-a-wine-tour-throughla-rioja/ 13. Contemporary parallels for this type of olive oil press have been found on Cyprus and on the Levantine coast. Building X at Maroni on Cyprus has a large rectangular stone press bed on a mudbrick platform and is dated to LC IIC (ca. 1300 BCE) around the same time as the example from Kommos (Blitzer 1993, 172). The Levantine city of Ugarit and its port at

14.

15.

16.

17.

18.

19.

20.

21. 22.

Minet el-Beida have produced multiple examples of this type of pressing installation (Callot 1993; Brun 2004, 56–59). A thirteenth-century example from the city center is composed of a rectangular stone press and counterweight found within a room. An adjacent room is interpreted as a paved mill opening onto a courtyard with three pithoi, a hearth, and olive stones (Callot 1987; Newton et al. 2014, fig. 2). A large-scale spouted press bed found in the area of the Unexplored Mansion at Knossos is unpublished. In addition, stone olive presses were found in the Late Minoan palace at Phaistos (Pernier 1951, 382–386) now visible in the palace storerooms, but their exact date is unclear (Blitzer 1993, 167). Tzedakis and Martlew 1999, 166–168. This mixture is not only known from the later Homeric epics (see Appendix A) but also in Hittite and Akkadian texts that mention an Anatolian drink that seems to be a mixture of beer and wine (Gorney 1995, 156). Interestingly, the number of tablets that record wine at Haghia Triada (21 out of 147) is greater than the number of wine tablets from Knossos or Pylos, with their archives of a thousand or more records (Palmer 2002, 100). That environmental change was attributed to divine intervention might be indicated by the inclusion of water into religious places in the LM IB period (e.g., Mochlos). In addition, the Neopalatial era sees the inclusion of the “Minoan Genius” or “Water Genius” into religious iconography. She has been linked to the Egyptian goddess Taweret and holds a (water?) pitcher (Flood and Soles 2014, 83–84). In contrast to Mycenaean practices (and later LM II–LM IIIC practices, which were focused on exclusion). At this point the communal events seem to start coalescing toward a regional scale, rather than a settlement-specific scale. Indeed, feasting and gift exchange have been largely inseparable from Marcel Mauss’ (1923– 1924) The Gift to Michael Dietler’s work (e.g., 2001). Gregory 1980; Mauss 1990, 230; Berking 1999. Legarra Herrero 2014. For the Mesara/South Coast see page 61, North-Central/Central page 89, Mirabello/Ierapetra page 116, and East page 134.

N OT ES TO PA GES 7 9– 9 6

23. Indeed, transport amphoras were in use on Crete as early as the EB II period (see Wilson et al. 2004, 2008). 24. Poursat and Knappett 2005, 154. Out of 71 oval-mouthed amphoras listed, 65 fall into this range. Two outliers have a capacity of 45 liters (59 and 60 cm in height, respectively) and were most likely employed for storage. Two others have heights between 46 and 50 cm and another two fall below the average with heights around 25 cm (Poursat and Knappett 2005, 202–203). 25. While the presence of a “palace” at Malia during the Protopalatial period is debatable (see, e.g., Driessen 2002; Schoep 2006, 58; Poursat 2012, 182), it is clear that elites inhabiting Quartier Mu were intricately linked to the commercial affairs of the settlement (Schoep 2002, 2006). 26. Poursat and Knappett 2005. It is difficult to say with any certainty why Malia and other centers have groups of amphoras from various locations around the island. Political or religious affiliations and collections could be one interpretation. Alternatively, the range of production locations might signal different types or qualities of oil and/or wine imported into the palaces from their respective origins (I thank an anonymous reviewer for pointing out this possibility). 27. For example, ceramic regionalism is emphasized in LM IB, whereas MM III and LM IA are characterized by more homogenous styles, especially connected with or influenced by Knossos. For MM III, see papers in Macdonald and Knappett 2013. For LM IB, see papers in Brogan and Hallager 2011, and, more generally, see Driessen and Macdonald 1997, with an update provided in Driessen 2013. 28. Hatzaki (2007a, 172) lists several LM IA contexts where oval-mouthed amphoras are prominent. In the Palace’s fourth Magazine, second Cist, the deposit consisted of “mainly ovalmouthed amphoras (imported and local),” some with running spiral decoration and others with reed decoration (unpublished). For running spiral decoration, see Popham 1977, pl. 28c, 28d; Haskell 1985, 225 n. 35. 29. Keswani 2009, 112–113. 30. It is possible that some of these oval-mouthed amphoras may in fact be local imitations, but

31.

32.

33.

34.

35.

36.

3

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no analyses have been undertaken as yet (see Knappett and Nikolakopoulou 2008, 7–9, 29 no. 9435). Alternative names include “false-necked jar” or “pseudostomos amphoreas” (Ben-Shlomo et al. 2011, 331; Haskell et al. 2011, 3). The Canaanite jar had existed for hundreds of years at this point and would continue to be used for hundreds more without significant variation in style or function. For a comparison of transport stirrup jars and Canaanite jars, see Negbi and Negbi 1993. Recent scholarship has determined multiple production locations for the Canaanite jar, not only along the Levantine littoral, but also on Cyprus. See Leonard 1995; Sugerman 2000; Bourriau et al. 2001; Serpico et al. 2003; Smith et al. 2004; Pedrazzi 2005, 2007; Day et al. 2011; Rutter forthcoming. As discussed earlier, these are broad patterns observable for many sites. There are, of course, regional and site-specific differences within these general trends. “In short, certain types of pottery were involved in large-scale distribution and consumption at a regional level significantly before the emergence of palatial authority.” (Knappett 1999, 632). Vokotopoulos et al. 2014, 261. These characteristics are often referenced as the Knossian “great tradition.” See also Platon 1974, 228. Indeed, the “sympotic pair” (Wecowski 2014, 257) or the “commercial amphora” of the Archaic era had already existed, in one way or another, for millennia.

CONTROLLING THE RELATIONSHIP 1. These characteristics include a core megaron building, large cyclopean circuit walls, similar artistic scenes painted in fresco technique, and large storage magazines. Although sizes of citadels varied considerably, they were nevertheless largely homogenous. 2. The presence of this Knossian or Knossianstyle pottery has been interpreted as an attempt by a new Knossian elite to influence or exercise control over other parts of the island (Popham et al. 1984; Driessen and Farnoux 1997; Rutter 1999, 139; Brogan et al. 2002; Driessen and

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3.

4.

5.

6.

NOT ES TO PAG ES 9 8– 11 7

Langohr 2007; Nodarou 2007, 75). It is clear, however, that Knossos’ reach was not absolute, especially the eastern regions (Langohr 2009, 21–35, 181–191, 212–218; Bennet 1990, 209). Additionally, Knossos is the only settlement on Crete that continued the Neopalatial tradition of complexes of monumental court-centered settlement architecture, among other symbols of power referencing the Minoan past (Rutter 1999, 139; Langohr 2009). The elite status of Knossos is further emphasized by the extreme wealth in Knossian graves (Preston 2004). See Chapter 1, “Oil and wine production: technologies and the archaeological record” section, for a more thorough discussion of these data. See also Foxhall 2007, 172, 173–176, table 6.2, 182–204; Brun 2004, 84–130. Contemporary parallels for this type of olive oil press have been found on Cyprus and on the Levantine coast. Building X at Maroni on Cyprus has a large rectangular stone press bed on a mudbrick platform and is dated to LC IIC (ca. 1300 BCE) around the same time as the example from Kommos (Blitzer 1993, 172). The Levantine city of Ugarit and its port at Minet el-Beida has produced multiple examples of this type of pressing installation (Callot 1993; Brun 2004, 56–59). A thirteenth-century example from the city center is composed of a rectangular stone press and counterweight found within a room. An adjacent room is interpreted as a paved mill opening onto a courtyard with three pithoi, a hearth, and olive stones (Callot 1987, Newton et al. 2014, fig. 2). There is also some linguistic evidence for external contact: Ethnics as personal names: a-ku-pi-ti-jo (Aiguptios, KN Db 1105); mi-sara-jo (Misraios, KN F 841); a-ra-si-jo (Alasios, KN Df 1229, Fh 369, X 1463); ku-pi-ri-jo (Kuprios, KN Fh 372, PY Un 443, Cn 131, 719, Jn 320). Group ethnics: mi-ra-ti-ja (Milesian), ki-ni-di-ja (Knidian), ra-mi-ni-ja (Lemnian), a-*64-ja (Aswian). Drake 2012; Tsonis et al. 2010. Pollen cores from Crete might support these trends, as plant species dependent on the presence of more water died out (Moody 2005). Tilia pollen, once abundant in Bronze Age levels of Greek cores, gradually disappeared and remains absent to this day. Indeed, Tilia is now more common in temperate European areas and only grows in the cooler and wetter environments of higher

altitudes within the Mediterranean (e.g., Epirus; Grove and Rackham 2001, 144). This evidence suggests that at one point, southern Greece and Crete had, by contrast, a cooler, wetter type of climate that then transitioned to the bimodal semi-aridity in place today. 7. The term “collector” is derived from the Linear B word a-ko-ra /agora¯/ “collector” or a-ke-re / age¯rei/ “he collects.” The definition of “collector” has been debated for many years. Various interpretations of the roles of collectors include: the owners of the type of good described, middlemen, beneficiaries, overseers, members of local elites, tax-farmers, tamkars (Bendall 2007, 79). One of the more convincing interpretations is that of Killen (1979, 177): collectors were “members of the nobility, the royal family, or the like who were allocated part of the productive capacity of the kingdom for their own benefit (hence their appearance as “owners” of flocks, weaving work-groups, etc.), and whose names appear at more than one site because, as members of this class, perhaps as members of the same dynasty, they tended to be given names from a certain limited stock.” 8. The range of commodities may point to specialization in crops in certain areas. For example, cyperus appears in KN F 157 and MY Ue 652 in large quantities, but rarely in the other Mycenae and Knossos tablets; this suggests that some farmers harvest it (perhaps those who had marshes on their land where it grows best), but it was not a main crop (Palmer 1994, 184). 9. Interestingly, one sector of society that seems to have been mostly excluded from feasting events was women. Examination of human skeletons from burials at Pylos demonstrate through stable isotope analysis that women ranked poorly for skeletal health, dental health, and diet compared to males in the same contexts (Schepartz et al. 2009, 2011). Factors involved included differential access to animal protein which might have been the result of differential participation of women in palace feasts, for whom there may have been “no seat at the table” (Schepartz et al. 2011). The Campstool fresco at Knossos and the megaron frescoes at Pylos seem to represent largely men seated at tables and lifting cups, while women typically appear in fresco scenes carrying offerings, less visibly in food transport and feast preparation (at Pylos and Kea), or as performers at a feast (Tylisos, kea) (Wilson 2008).

NOT ES T O PA G ES 1 1 7 –1 5 6

10. Although the term “palace” has been shown to be an inaccurate label for the central buildings associated with Mycenaean towns, it is nevertheless a useful stand-in until a better term is widely agreed upon. 11. This is perhaps not the case for regions like East Crete where symbols of Mycenaean influence, like kylikes, are rarely found. See Pratt and Momigliano 2017. 12. Minoan Neopalatial-era tombs are relatively scarce and remain mostly unpublished. It is therefore impossible to gain a general sense of the types of gift exchanges performed with the dead. See Branigan 1993 and Legarra Herrero 2014 for Pre-palatial and Protopalatial Minoan funerary practices. 13. There are some sporadic indications that libations were performed outside Pre- and Protopalatial Minoan tombs, but it is unclear if this was a general custom (e.g., MM I: Platanos Tholos A annex has over 300 stone bird’s nest bowls that are not suitable for drinking because of their thick lips and might instead have been used for libations, see Legarra Herrero 2014, 62; MM I–III: Mandalia tomb near Siteia. Platon (1959, 372) suggested over fifty vases outside the tomb were offerings to the dead perhaps in libation rituals (Georgoulaki 1996b, 148; Legarra Herrero 2014, 285 no. 428)). The lack of published material from Minoan Neopalatial tombs makes it impossible to determine whether libations were performed within a funerary context. 14. Notice the parallel to tablet Tn 316 from Pylos where gods are also given silver and gold cups. 15. On the destruction date of Knossos, see Popham 1970, 1997; Hood 1971, 2009; Bennett 1985; Warren 1989; Bennet 1990; Driessen 1990, 2000. There is some debate over when the palace and Linear B archives were destroyed. Some scholars date the destruction to LM IIIA2 and others to LM IIIB. Here, I follow Rutter (2000, 186; 2005a; 2006c, 861), Hatzaki (2007b, 197), and Langohr (2009, 218) by placing the end of the Monopalatial era sometime in the ceramic phase known as LM IIIA2. 16. The mainland desire for Cretan olive oil might have been instigated by the general lack of local olive oil or good quality olive oil at that point in time. Palynological data from cores from Lake Lerna in the Argolid suggest that olive

17.

18. 19.

20.

21.

4

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trees were present in Late Bronze Age but only became common after ca. 800 BCE (Jahns 1993). Similar signatures are seen in cores from Aliki Lagoon to the west of Corinth along the gulf. Olive pollen, while present in the Late Bronze Age, is not a substantial percentage of the whole (Kontopoulos and Avramidis 2003). There are even examples of stirrup jars in faience and alabaster from Egypt (Brunton and Engelbach 1927, 12, pl. XXV 4; see also, e.g., British Museum no. 35413, Petrie Museum UC 16630; I thank an anonymous reviewer for this intriguing insight). To use Dietler’s (2001) terminology: from patron-role to divided diacritical. “there was a very specific complex of religious and social associations bound up with wine drinking, centered in particular on the palace and palace society” (Cavanagh 1998, 111). Linear B records indicate a distinct interest in fiscal language and taxation. There are diverse verb and noun forms related to taxation (a-pudo-si and o(-pe-ro), do-so-mo) or tax emption (e-re-u-te-ro, o-u-di-do-si), as well as the use of verbs or nouns with a more general transactional meaning (e.g., δίδωμι, οφέλλω, φέρω). These words mostly continue their fiscal use in alphabetic Greek and “prove that taxation in the Mycenaean palaces had a non-specific but well-defined and organized vocabulary, with some tradition earlier than the tablets, and capable of being enriched with technical terms, whose meaning, in some cases, still escapes us” (Varias 2006, 250). Staple finance is characterized by obligatory payments to the state in the form of basic goods, which are then used to finance state activities, particularly the support of dependent labor. Wealth finance employs high-value goods, manufactured products, to fund state operations. These valued goods are acquired through exchange, levied from local populations, or produced by attached craft producers. See Nakassis 2010.

MAINTAINING THE RELATIONSHIP 1. At Tiryns, the postern gates were sealed and the larger northern gate was constructed along with upgrades to the central buildings. At the

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same time, a dam was created to divert a stream away from the northern lower town possibly with the desire to open space for northern settlement expansion. These improvement projects were cut short, however, by the actual collapse (Maran 2010). 2. The production and exchange of meat would also be a useful comparison, especially since it was consumed in commensal contexts. However, there is a significant lack of archaeological evidence related to how and how much meat was “produced” and consumed in the Postpalatial era, or really any era before the Hellenistic period. See F. S. Naiden’s (2012) thorough examination of the evidence for meat consumption in sacrificial contexts and the various issues associated with the little evidence available (e.g., the type and size of the animals changed over time and place, the quantities of meat from each animal also changed. The data are very skewed: only one study for the Bronze Age (Pylos), one for the Geometric period (Eretria), and ten for the Archaic and Classical periods; see Naiden 2012, 61 n. 29 for references). It is also entirely unclear how many people could be fed meat at a sacrifice or meal. The Panathenaia’s hecatomb (100 cattle sacrifice) would have yielded 6,400–10,000 kg of meat depending on the size of the cattle and the cuts of meat reserved for eating, which could feed 3,200–4,000 people depending on the size of the portion (2 kg or 0.25 kg each; Naiden 2012, 66; see also Rhodes and Osborne Greek Historical Inscriptions, nos. 63 and 81, where they estimate 20,000 people). 3. The “Preclassical global crisis” (Brooke 2014, 299) was shaped by a long epoch of lower solar input running from the fifteenth century BC to the eighth century BC with deep minima at 1450, 1000, and 800. These solar minima seem to have pushed south both the Intertropical Convergence Zone and the edge of the northern sea ice. These forces were compounded by a strong Siberian High, with initial symptoms at and after 1500 BC and strong points from 1150 to 850 BC, which for centuries controlled northern and probably global climates, sending outbursts of cold winter weather felt as far south as the Aegean Sea and Red Sea. “As a final blow, just at the end of this Hallstatt cycle, solar insolation reached a minimum (the ‘Homeric’) at 800 BC not seen since 2900 BC, followed by another slightly shallower minimum at 400 BC” (Brooke 2014, 301).

4.

5. 6.

7.

8.

9. 10.

11.

Strong southern precipitation around 1400 BCE is shown by high lake levels in the Mediterranean and central Europe suggesting the negative mode of the North Atlantic Oscillation. The high lake levels were interrupted at 1150 BCE when the Siberian High intensified, which resulted in severe dry conditions for Southwest Asia (Brooke 2014, 301). For example, the krater and drinking cup became an icon of the warrior society of the Iron Age. For a relatively complete list of feasting contexts, see Fox 2012. “Clearly some person or group was using feasting as a method to display their superiority through their choice of vessels, but there is no way at present of connecting this to what was occurring on the site of the former palace” (Fox 2012, 63). Walberg 1995, 90. There is currently no evidence to suggest an increase in the number of household hearths in LH IIIC settlements. Although the cemetery at Elateia was established in the LH IIIA1 period and continued into the Roman era, the period of highest use was from the middle of the Postpalatial era into the Protogeometric (Deger-Jalkotzy 1990, 2004, 2007, 2009; Dakoronia 2004; Dakoronia et al. 2009). Thomatos 2006, 22–46: Catalog of every decorated stirrup jar in LH IIIC Middle contexts. Thomatos 2006, 261 chart 1.1: Of the decorated and cataloged examples with which Thomatos concerned herself, there are 101 stirrup jars in tomb deposits and 9 in settlement deposits. Amphoriskoi are the second most common closed shape and most are found in tomb deposits: 63 in tomb deposits and 6 in settlement deposits. Alabastra and jugs are 27 and 23, respectively, in tomb deposits and only 5 and 4, respectively, in settlement deposits. D’Agata and Boileau 2009, 184–85, nos. SY1, SY3, SY4, SY176; see also D’Agata 2003, 28, fig. 2.1; 2007, 99, fig. 21.1. Some of these amphoras have been labeled “neck-handled” in the publications, but based on published drawings the handles appear to attach to the rim. I have therefore included them as “rimhandled” in this chapter following the terminology used in, for example, Watrous 1992; Rutter 2006b; Day 2011.

NOT ES T O PA G ES 1 8 6 –2 0 0

12. It seems that “hydrias” have been used in transport contexts in other time periods as well. Survey of an EH II–III shipwreck has recently been reported from the bay of Yagana, some 40 m off the coast in the channel between the Ionian islands of Ithaka and Kefallonia (Evangelistis n.d.; Dellaporta 2011, 21). The cargo of this wreck consists primarily of “large vessels of closed shape,” some 40 cm in height). They are termed “hydria” because they bear the characteristic three handles of these water jars (two horizontal handles and a small vertical strap handle), but otherwise they indisputably share the features of collar-necked jars (Evangelistis n.d., figs. 20 and 21; Dellaporta 2011, 21, fig. 2). 13. These calculations are based on the only nine transport stirrup jars at Karphi whole enough to provide accurate measurements (Day 2011, nos. K1.13, K26.10, K33.4, K36, K46, K114.7, K147.15, M8.3, MK.14). The calculations of base to height ratio of transport stirrup jars from the Uluburun shipwreck come from nos. KW118, KW790, KW1188, KW1198, KW1429, KW1470, KW1977, KW5457, KW5520 (dimensions provided courtesy J. B. Rutter, pers. comm. 2014; see also Rutter 2005). Dimensions for transport stirrup jars at Mycenae come from thirteen vessels found in the House of the Oil Merchant: nos. 9090, 9092, 9093, 9095–97, 9224, 9237, 9238, 9240, 9241, 9242, 24341 (personal examination). 14. For Thronos Kephala, see D’Agata and Boileau 2009, 184–85, 194, 195, nos. SY1, SY3, SY4, SY12, SY176 (local); SY5, SY14, SY20 (imported). These are very similar to the Granary Style amphoras and later “East Mainland – Aegean Koine” amphoras (Mountjoy 2009, 290–93). For Halasmenos, see Tsipopoulou 2004, 105, fig. 8.2 (six vessels made of Fabric 1; five of Fabric 2; one of Fabric 4; one of Fabric 5). 15. See also Stockhammer 2008, 279, no. 2432. It is labeled a “short-necked amphora” by Stockhammer, but this is not the type of “short-necked amphora” found at Kommos and published in Rutter 2000, 2006. Its fabric, identified as “oatmeal,” is typical of south-central Crete. Of course, this designation cannot be verified unless chemical or petrographic testing is conducted. 16. Stockhammer 2008, fig. 22, 152–53, 178, 190, 203–204, 216, 236. In the early phase, there are

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also seven “West Aegean” transport stirrup jars, nine “Cycladic/Kytheran” transport stirrup jars, and one handmade transport stirrup jar. In the middle phases there is one “Cycladic/ Kytheran” transport stirrup jar.

5

REBUILDING THE RELATIONSHIP 1. For the main focus of this chapter, the regions of Boeotia, Phokis, Lokris, Euboea, Thessaly, and Macedonia, what is now termed “northwest Aegean,” are most important (Gimatzidis 2011, 959). In particular, these regions continued to be important and maybe even flourished at a time when other areas, like the Argolid, were reduced to hamlets. Morphological similarities in pottery styles existed in these regions from the earlier phases of the EIA until the end of the period and have therefore been called the “northwest Aegean koine” or “Thessalo-Cycladic Protogeometric and Subprotogeometric” (Gimatzidis 2011, 959). 2. Indeed, various scholars have questioned the historicity of the Ionian (Papadopoulos 2005, 580–588; Crielaard 2008; Vaessen 2014), Aiolian (Rose 2008), and Dorian (SchnappGourbeillon 1979, 1986, 2002) migrations. As Papadopoulos (2005, 580) notes, “migrations, colonizations, and even invasions have dominated modern views of the myth-historical landscape of Early Iron Age Greece.” 3. See Thucydides 4.123.1. While the date of the first large movements to the Chalkidike and Pieria are not clear, it is certain that the areas had contact with Mycenaean Greeks as early as the Middle Bronze Age that continued into the early Mycenaean era at, for example, Torone (Morris 2009). 4. Snodgrass 1994. This motif, however, does appear in Macedonia at the same time or earlier than Euboea (Andreou 2009). Only when the decoration became standardized do the two regions develop this shape in tandem. As Gimatzidis (2011, 959) pointedly states, “today there is no doubt that all types of the pendant semicircle skyphoi were produced and consumed at the same time both in Euboea and Macedonia.” Additionally, Tiverios (2008, 8) points out that it does not matter if the Euboean-style pottery was imported or made locally because it still means there was Euboean presence in northern Greece. Other authors

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6.

7.

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are more skeptical, calling into question whether the existence of skyphoi necessarily implies the presence of Euboeans themselves or are the result of trade or solely indigenous invention (Papadopoulos 1997, 2011). The Sanctuary of Poseidon Pontios near Mende has a large apsidal building with pottery dating to LM III/SM, Protogeometric, and Geometric periods. While an apsidal building alone would not signal Euboean presence, construction of four cult buildings, including one dating to the tenth century BCE, produced material interpreted as relating to Greek cult practices (Tiverios 2008, 14–15). Tiverios (2008, 124) argues that, “what persuades us that the Greeks probably settled in these parts [the north Aegean] at such an early date [immediately after the Trojan War] is above all the discovery near Mende of a purely Greek sanctuary, the first phase of which dates back to the Late Mycenaean period. It is precisely this find which forces us to break out of the straitjacket of dogmatic views in this discipline of ours and re-adjust our interpretation of the considerable body of evidence outlined above.” Valamoti and Jones 2010, 84; Kroll 2000; Valamoti, pers. comm. June 2015; Valamoti et al. 2018. It is only from the ninth century that the first relatively firm evidence for olive use appears at northern Aegean sites, specifically at Krania Pierias (Margaritis 2007). It has recently been suggested that this sudden appearance of the olive can perhaps be attributed to population movements northward, as mentioned earlier (Valamoti et al. 2018, 188–189). These specific pithoi are in opposition to the most common pithoi most likely used to collect rainwater. Excavators noted that many pithoi were positioned in outdoor areas, including courtyards, in order to collect rainwater (see also Ebbinghaus 2005 for other alternatives). Whatever the precise role climate change played, it is nevertheless clear that agronomic regimes changed dramatically after the end of the Late Bronze Age. As mentioned earlier, pollen cores from multiple regions of southern and central Greece, as well as archaeobotanical remains from northern Greece, indicate a shift from a cereal-intensive strategy relying mainly on wheat (a crop that requires much water), to

9.

10.

11.

12.

the expansion of olives in the south (a crop capable of surviving in xeric conditions), and barley in the north (Kouli 2011; Margomenou 2005, 195). Kouli (2011, 275) observes that “it is difficult to determine whether the observed change of agricultural activities [shift from cereals to olive] should be ascribed to cultural or religious causes or whether it was driven by the 3500–2500 cal. year B.P. cool and dry climatic event.” Indeed, the excavator of the site has argued that “the innovation marked by the appearance of the decorated ‘tableware’ was the beginning, during the earlier Late Bronze Age at Toumba, of a process of formalization of feasting, which laid particular emphasis on the material culture related to the consumption of liquids” (Andreou and Psaraki 2007, 409). One technique that does seem to be immediately adopted, however, is the use of the compass-drawn multiple brush technique to produce concentric circle motifs. Indeed, the use of this motif in the north is so widespread and emphatic that its simultaneous coincidence with central Greece and has led to speculation over its origin (Papadopoulos, Vedder, and Schreiber 1998). Local ceramics from sites like Thessaloniki Tomba and Kastanas are characterized by the excessive use of concentric circles not only on the shoulder of large vessels, as in the south, but also on the body areas (Jung 2002). In other regions of northern Greece, however, more conventional Early Protogeometric styles were adopted. Vessels found in earlier graves at Torone and Koukos in Khalkidhiki and the cemeteries of Vergina and Olymbos to the west and south show more affinities to southern Greek styles (Andreou 2009, 24 n. 21). Fox 2012, 75: “Boundaries between sociopolitical and religious/sanctuary feasting were blurred in these buildings, and these allencompassing feasts in one location helped to stabilize society in a fragmented era.” The copper and silver ores at Laurion in Attica were exploited in some way since at least the Bronze Age (Aperghis 2013, 10; Stos-Gale and Gale 1982). At that point and until the late Archaic period, people only exploited the vein known as the First Contact, the shallowest zone of silver (Nicolet-Pierre 1985, 31; Davis 2014). The famous strike at Maroneia in 483/2 (Ath. Pol. 22.7) was not the first area to be

NOT ES T O PA G ES 2 2 5 –2 4 5

13.

14.

15.

16.

17.

18.

19.

exploited, only the first to be particularly rich in silver. As pointedly stated by Murray (2012, 336) “The residents of Perati wrested control of Lavriotic silver and copper mines from the cold dead hands of the Mycenaeans after the palatial collapse, and grew wealthy producing bronze and distributing it to interested parties in Greece.” She goes on to say that “the IIIC period was a bronze bonanza, and everyone who had been shut out of the bronze party finally got past the velvet rope” (Murray 2012, 337). Lead isotope analyses of more than 110 silver objects found in the Near East determined that silver from Laurion and Siphnos was used for some objects in seventh century BCE hoards from Israel (Thompson, Balmuth, and StosGale 2001, 307). Aubet 2001, 75–77. “The abundance of streams in spring that could be used for irrigation is found exclusively on the coastal plain, which constitutes the real agricultural hinterland of the Phoenician cities and which is in every respect inadequate to feed the large conurbations. The profound climatic and political changes [at the end of the Bronze Age] would deprive the Phoenicians of a large part of their raw materials and basic foods, since Phoenicia was never able to become a genuine agricultural power.” Despite the fertility of the land around Tyre, Phoenicia had a grain deficit due to the growing population. For example, the pact between Hiram of Tyre and Solomon for grain (I Kings 5:23) and allusions to overpopulation. The distribution patterns associated with Group II North Aegean amphoras are much easier to discern through the archaeological record. This accessibility has to do with an increase in the number of pots produced during the Late Geometric period, an increase in their identification within the archaeological record, and an increase in their rate of publication. Unlike earlier versions, Group II North Aegean amphoras are highly standardized in both size and decoration. “ . . . να χρησίμευαν για την υπερπόντια προώθηση και την εμπορία του “θερμαίου¨ οίνου” (Tiverios, Manakidou, and Tsiafaki 2003, 193). This connection is especially poignant since iron ore was relatively easily acquired: “In the

327

EIA, iron, the most useful metal for weapons and tools, was plentiful in its raw ore form in Greece and therefore could not easily be controlled or rationed” (Papadopoulos 2014, 181). Indeed, it has been speculated that ironworking might have become more or less a domestic activity (Snodgrass 2006, 127; see also Hesiod Works and Days, 492–494 where ironworking in the smithy was a public activity and commonplace). It could be argued, however, that despite its ubiquity in raw form, one still needed the knowledge and expertise to work iron ore into useable tools and weapons. 20. When large amphoras are used as burial containers, it is often assumed to be a purely functional choice. It is possible, however, that they held some other meaning. I thank an anonymous reviewer for the suggestion that the wine in the amphora could have been first consumed as part of the funerary ritual.

6

EXPANDING THE RELATIONSHIP 1. While the start of the time period addressed in this chapter (ca. 750 BCE) is a relatively accepted benchmark, the end of the time period (ca. 600 BCE) deserves some comment. This book is concerned with tracing the very beginning of surplus oil and wine production and the place of these two commodities within exchange modes as they changed over centuries. The sixth century marks a point when surplus production of oil and wine and the creation of specialized containers for their exchange are no longer unique among the attributes of Greek regions. That is, during the sixth century many, if not most, regions of the Greek world started to produce their own amphoras and exchange their own surpluses. In addition, the written sources available by that time allow a much more detailed analysis of the sociopolitical milieu within which these commodities functioned. I believe, therefore, that the sixth century requires its own book as an incredibly dynamic and robust time period. 2. The topic of the Greek polis has received much attention over the last few centuries by modern scholars and over millennia by ancient authors. For a discussion of the historiography of the subject, see Vlassopoulos 2007, esp. 13–67 and 68–95. For a working definition of the Greek

328

3.

4.

5.

6.

NOT ES TO PAG ES 2 45 –2 5 0

polis, see Hansen 2006, 40–41, “a polis was a small institutionalized self-governing society, a political community of adult male citizens (politai or astoi), who along with their families lived in a –usually – fortified city (also called polis or sometimes asty) or in its hinterland (chora or ge) along with two other sets of inhabitants, free non-citizens (xenoi or often metoikoi) and slaves (douloi).” See also the multiple volumes published by the Copenhagen Polis Centre, among which are Hansen and Raaflaub 1995 and 1996, Hansen 1996, Nielsen 1997, Hansen 2007. Hansen (2006, 41) suggests a terminus ante quem of ca. 650 for polis as a city-state. For alternative designations to “city-state” see discussion in Hansen 2006, 7–30, 62–67; 2000b. In Archaic Greek literature, there is a discernable focus on the polis and the divisions between those who do and do not live in poleis (e.g., Sappho Fr. 57 Lobel-Page; Alkaios fr. 130B Lobel-Page; Theognis 53–60; see also Hansen 2007, Hansen 2000a). Morris 1991, 40. It has even been suggested that since the earliest poleis emerged in areas that had been under the control of Mycenaean palaces (Snodgrass 1980, 44), it is reasonable to assume their roots can be found in the “shattered fragments of the centralized bureaucracies of the Late Bronze Age” (Hall 2013, 10, van Effenterre 1985; contra Hansen 2006, 41). For example, sixteen wealthy burials were found by the West Gate in Eretria on Euboea and dated to ca. 720–680 (Bérard 1970). These burials are a fraction of the estimated population of between 1,000 and 2,000 people (Morris 1991) and are reasonably considered the ruling family. Similarly, at Argos there is evidence for only one or two very wealthy warrior graves, with no evidence for aristocratic cemeteries (Hall 2013, 12; Hall 2007, 128). For example, we see the appearance of annually rotating, named magistracies in place of the more generic term basileus (e.g., law at Dreros (M&L 2/Fornara 11) with a magistrate named the kosmos who holds office only once in any 10-year period). The assumption that Greeks “colonized” regions of the Mediterranean is one based on the pervasive analogy of European colonialism of the sixteenth through mid-twentieth centuries (Lyons and Papadopoulos 2002; Dietler 2005). Greek written texts of the Classical,

7.

8.

9.

10.

11. 12.

Hellenistic, and Roman eras, such as Thucydides (books 6 and 7), Strabo, or Eusebius, have been used as evidence for this same type of colonial expansionist action, the characteristics of which involve establishing a new colony that is intimately tied to the motherland, and then insisting on subduing the indigenous people, who are almost always at a disadvantage. Recent work has stressed the importance of questioning the false assumptions generated by the colonial analogy while prioritizing archaeological evidence and asking non-biased questions of the material culture (Hurst and Owen 2005; Antonaccio 2007, 2009). Archaeological evidence, while at times contradictory to the literary sources, is perhaps a more reliable source of information concerning the earliest presence of Greeks abroad and their changing relationships to the landscape and indigenous people. Antonaccio 2007, 202; Osborne 2007. One rough estimate suggests that the departure of a few hundred men each year led a total of 20,000–40,000 leaving the Aegean over the course of the later eighth and seventh centuries BCE, maybe 2–3 percent of all adult males and a far higher percentage in seagoing regions (Morris 2007, 219). In Works and Days, Hesiod’s brother Perses has at least six full time staff including three slaves and hired men. Although Hesiod uses terms such as “poverty” and “hunger,” these expressions must be understood in light of the quite high standard of living that he expected. In later Classical Greece, everyone who could not afford to live off the labor of others was deemed to live in “poverty” (Van Wees 2009, 445). See Appendix B for further discussion of Hesiod’s Works and Days. Archaeological material supports this acquisitive drive since “grave goods . . . show that at least some farmers produced surpluses with which they could acquire non-essential goods” (Descoeudres 2008, 330). Perhaps the best example of this is the presence of ceramic model granaries placed within tombs (e.g., the “rich Athenian lady” Liston and Papadopoulos 2004). For more information and images, see: www .klazomenai.com/isliginikinciev resi_eng.htm The use of olive cakes or pomace (the leftover material from production of olive oil) has also

NOT ES T O PA G ES 2 5 2 –2 8 4

13.

14.

15.

16.

17.

been identified at Minoan Chamalevri (Sarpaki 1999) and Mochlos (Hamilakis 1996, 3; Sarpaki and Bending 2004, 126) where a large concentration of fragmented olive stones was found inside a room used for bronze-working (Rowan 2015). Literature of the sixth century BCE (e.g., Solon’s poetry and reforms) is considered out of the scope of this book, which takes as its terminus the cessation of Attic SOS amphora production. Indeed, the sixth century deserves its own book as a very dynamic time even within the purview of oil and wine production and exchange, including the invention of the Panathenaic amphora in Athens and the veritable explosion of surplus wine, oil, and amphora production in Greek regions all over the Mediterranean. Domestic consumption of olive oil for a wealthy household in classical Greece has been estimated at around 200–330 kg per year. This amounts to around 400–600 kg per elaiona (2-year period). At an average productivity as low as 2.16 kg oil per tree per elaiona, 185–306 trees would fulfill this requirement. This is around 1.9–3.8 hectares of olive trees if they were evenly spaced at around 80–100 trees per hectare. If oil yields per tree were higher, then fewer trees would be needed (Foxhall 2007, 216). This major solar minimum lasted 90 years with the peak dated to ca. 817 (Steinhilber et al. 2009) or 765 BCE (Usoskin et al. 2007). There was very low solar activity around 830–740 BCE. It was perhaps the largest solar minimum of the past 3,000 years and was plausibly linked to global climate change (Manning 2013, 112). Also known as the 2800 years BP event or the Iron Age Cold Period in Europe or the Initial/First Phase of the sub-Atlantic. Hesychios tells us that there were three public dining rooms in Athens: Prytaneia/Tholos, Thesmophoreion/Thesmotheteion, and Prytaneion; Rotroff and Oakley 1992, 38. Here, I capitalize “Symposion” to distinguish the very specific and standardized event (e.g., Murray 1983; Kelly-Blazeby 2006, 18) from the more general term “symposion” often used to designate any form of drinking party separate from eating (Schmitt Pantel 1997; Wecowski 2014, 169). In addition, the word “private” here is used solely in its meaning as

18. 19.

20.

21.

22.

23.

24.

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secluded or restricted, not in opposition to “political” (see Schmitt-Pantel 1990, 25). For a full discussion of this iconographic transition, see Schmitt Pantel 1997, 17–31. Or, really, boy in this case. Skeletal remains suggest he was between the ages of 10 and 14. See discussion in Wecowski 2014, 251–255. Note, however, that his discussion of distinctly sympotic paraphernalia in tombs rests on the presence of jugs and cups, a trend that, as we have seen, was prevalent from the Minoan Bronze Age onwards. For vase paintings, the exception is the feast for Perithous and Hippodameia with the Centaur intrusion; for example, calyx-krater by the Nekyia Painter ca. 450 BCE; Vienna 1026. Oakley and Sinos (1993, 24) assume that the wedding feast was “so similar to other symposia” that it did not need to be depicted as it did not represent a wedding per se. We do have depictions of processions to the wedding, such as on the famous François vase. Wedding feasts seem to have been very large: Plutarch asked “why do people invite the most guests to wedding feasts?” (Table-Talk; Quaest. Conv. 666d). Burton 1998. See, for example, Athenaeus, Deipnosophistae 14.644d; Menander, Samia 287–288; Plutarch, Moralia VIII, Quaestiones Convivales 3.1, 666D-666E; see also Euripides, Iphigenia Aulidensis 720, 722–723. But it is unclear whether they dined in the same room, at different tables, or a combination (Oakley and Sinos 1993, 22). “est un usage qui apparaît, au contraire, comme une étape obligatoire de la cérémonie funéraire” and for which “les Grecs ne conçoivent pas l’absence”. Bourdieu 1972, 223; for Bourdieu’s theory of misrecognition applied to ritual more generally, see Bell 1992. There is also evidence for local wine and possibly oil production at a farmstead near the main settlement of Pithekoussai, Punta Chiarito (De Caro and Gialanella 1998; Gialanella 1994). Evidence for wine production from ninth century BCE Italian sites suggests that the knowledge for domesticating and pressing wine was already in place before Greek colonists arrived. Discovery of wine residue at Longola (Poggiomarino) near Pompeii has been dated to the ninth century BCE. The same site contained an area with pips that had signs of having been pressed (Cicirelli and Albore Livadie 2008).

330

NOT ES TO PAG ES 2 85 –2 9 6

25. Pratt 2015, 231–232. There is also a striking correlation between the find-spots of eighthcentury Phoenician amphoras and Athenian SOS amphoras throughout the Mediterranean (see Pratt 2015, 232, and Kasseri 2012). 26. Papakonstantinou 2009, 9 n. 29; Spensitheos decree (Kadmos 9 [1970] 124.12–13=SEG 27.631=Nomima I 22), 50 prochoi (jars or liquid measures) of must; IC IV 79.4–5 (=Nomima I 30=IGT no. 154) 100 prochoi of must; IC IV 77, B3 (=Nomima I 49=IGT no. 152) 3 measures of must; IC IV 72, 10.37–39 a prochous of wine; IC IV 144.4 100 prochoi of must. 27. See below. There is evidence from Archaic literature that taverns already existed where lower-quality wine could be bought in smaller quantities (Hippon. fr. 79.18; West refers to erpin as the object of the trade of a tavernkeeper nicknamed “swindler” (skotos)). 28. The need for a start-up supply might have stemmed originally from a lack of cultivated grapevines and olive trees when the colonists first arrived, both of which can take 10 years to produce substantial fruits (Gras 2010, 112). This need would have resulted in a sort of “assistance policy” as articulated by Gras (1988; 2010, 112). In his definition, the metropolis would have sent necessary commodities, such as oil and wine, to the newly founded settlements as a form of aid or start-up supplies, rather than for purely economic gain. Based on the evidence presented here, such assistance did not necessarily come directly from the metropolis, since Athenian SOS amphoras (made with distinctly Attic clays) make up a large portion of the earliest attested transport containers. 29. Wild olive trees and grapevines have been present in the central Mediterranean since the last glaciation (Brun 2010, 425; Langgut et al. 2019). The date of their first domestication and use for oil and wine production, however, is a matter of much debate. Recent DNA studies have shown that western domesticated olive trees and grapevines are hybrids of the local wild plants and the eastern Mediterranean domesticated variety (Breton et al. 2006; Arroyo-García et al. 2006). Evidence for wine production from ninth century BCE Italian sites suggests that the knowledge for domesticating and pressing wine was already in place before Greek colonists arrived. Discovery of wine residue at Longola (Poggiomarino) near

Pompeii has been dated to the ninth century BCE (Cicirelli and Albore Livadie 2008). The same site contained an area with pips that had signs of having been pressed (Cicirelli and Albore Livadie 2008). Most recently, Langgut et al. (2019) suggest that the olive was first domesticated in the Italian Peninsula around 1400 BCE. 30. In the central and western Mediterranean, SOS amphoras and their contents seem to be the forerunners of other Attic ceramic exports and tend to be counted as the earliest Attic imports to many sites. For example, at the indigenous settlement of Morgantina on Sicily, fragments of Attic SOS amphoras found in the settlement area of the Cittadella date from the late seventh century and are the earliest imports identified. Other Attic pottery is rare until the third quarter of the sixth century BCE (Lyons 1996, 29; Antonaccio 2004). In Iberia, the earliest Greek objects found in some quantity are Attic SOS amphoras and Corinthian ceramic material, mostly kotylai. Many of the Attic SOS amphoras date to the late eighth and early seventh century and can also be found with other imports, such as Cypriot bichrome IV ware (Shefton 1982, 338–339). The inclusion of SOS and Corinthian A amphoras in elite indigenous tombs and ritual contexts might support the idea that Greek oil and wine held a high value in local contexts (Brun 2011, 107; Pratt 2014, 268–271). For example, SOS amphoras are found within Etruscan tombs as burial gifts (Pratt 2014, 264–270). 31. The most prominent examples are the sanctuary of Demeter at Eleusis being enveloped by Athens and the creation of the Sacred Way (Mylonas 1961; Sourvinou-Inwood 1997; Binder 1998); the Samian Heraion being turned away from the sea via a new entrance and official pathway to the city (Duplouy 2006, 190–203; Zapheiropoulou 1997); and the sanctuary of Apollo at Didyma being claimed by Miletus (Tuchelt, Schneider, Schattner 1996; Duplouy 2006, 203–214; Giannisi 2006, 28–33). 32. There are multiple debates surrounding the people who made up each level and the correct label to apply to these groups. Options range from “aristocrats” made up of lineage-based kinship groups (Pierrot 2015; Ober 1989, 55–60; Donlan 1999) to the “leisured class”

NOT ES T O PA G ES 2 9 7 –3 1 0

made up of men who owned a certain (large) amount of land and lived off the labor of others (Ste. Croix 1981; Davies 1984, 28–29; van Wees 2006; Rose 2009, 2013; van Wees and Fisher 2015). The simplest way to describe these levels is elite and non-elite (Duplouy 2003, 2006; Morris 1987). 33. While Athenians did not seem to participate in establishing apoikia in the same manner as, say, Corinth, there are some indications that wealthy Athenian families had interests in oversees locations, such as the Peisistratidai at Sigeon and the Philiadai in Macedonia and the Chalkidiki. 34. These prekteres are in contrast to both Greek aristocrats sailing on their own (Reed 2003, 64) and the coastal voyages of farmers. The Homeric tradition does make clear that elites also took part in trade as a means of deriving profit, despite stereotypes associated with merchants (Ulf 2009, 87; e.g. Od. 3.70–4; Il. 7.467–75; von Reden 1995, 61–68; Winter 1998). In addition, there were farmers or craftsmen who engaged in emporia by traveling in order to sell elsewhere the goods they themselves grew or made, which is precisely the case encountered in Hesiod’s Works and Days (652–682; Van Wees 2009, 460; Descoeudres 2008, 338). 35. Hippon. fr. 79.18; West refers to erpin as the object of the trade of a tavern-keeper nicknamed “swindler” (skotos). Commentators

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assume that erpis is some kind of a slang term for poor-quality wine. See West 1974, 144; Gerber 1999, 415.

7

CONCLUSION

1. Redfield 1983; Dougherty 2001, 123–127. In contrast to the Odyssey, the Iliad makes little distinction between Greeks and non-Greeks in all the criteria that would later define “Greekness” according to Herodotus. As Sissa explains (Sissa and Detienne 2000, 18) in her account of “Homeric Anthropology”: “the resemblance between the men on the two opposed sides is almost total. All mortals, whatever their origin, be they Hellene or Asiatic, speak the same language, don the same, interchangeable arms, eat the same food in the same fashion, and sacrifice to the same gods.” 2. Similarly, “ . . . people do things with culture . . . certain symbols can be actively and deliberately selected and employed to communicate distinctiveness . . . ” (Hall 2009, 610, emphasis original; See also Dietler 2007). 3. Decreasing precipitation and increasing annual temperatures are already causing changes to cultivation habitats. Olive cultivation is now again moving into northern Italy. A national statistical survey indicates a consistent expansion of olive cultivation beyond the previous northern limit (Salvati et al. 2013).

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395

INDEX

4.2-event, 29 à la brosse amphora, 280 Academy, Athens sacred house, 211 Achaia, 131 connection to Italy, 179 use of kylix, EIA, 214 adaptation climate change, 22, 310, 311 Aeolis, 199 Aetolia use of kylix, EIA, 214 Agarak, 158 press beds, bedrock, 52 agency indigenous, 306 of plants, 70 things, 10, 16 vines and olive trees, 10 Agnanti, 156 North Aegean amphoras, 233 Agora feasting in, 268 funerary feasting, 219 SOS amphoras, 282 agriculture increase in quality, Postpalatial, 163 Mediterranean (modern), 309 stability, EIA, 199 Agrosykia North Aegean amphoras, 237 Aigeira, 156 agriculture, 159 destruction of, 157 feasting at, 167 kraters, 170 storage, 162 Akanthos North Aegean amphoras, 237 Akrotiri Minoan imports, 83 olive stones, 54 press installation, 49, 51, 98

396

transport stirrup jars, 84, 86 Alcaeus, 265 Alcman, 265 Alonaki oval-mouthed amphoras, 81 alphabet, 256 Amnisos feasting at, 65 amphora, 77, 182, 185, 317, 321 as fluid technology, 21 as funerary gift, 223 amphoriskoi, 40, 175, 176 abundance of, 177 trade in, 190 amphoriskos, 220 andreion, 249 andron, 264 Andros, 200, 204 Anemospelia gift exchange at, 75 Angelochori, 202 Aphrodite’s Kephali, 319 Aphytis North Aegean amphoras, 237 apoikia, 284, 331, See colonization Apollo at Abai, 210 Apollo Daphnephoros, 261 feasting at, 211 apsidal building, 198 Sanctuary of Poseidon Pontios, 326 Arcadia, 272 archaeobotanical remains, 319 as evidence for production, 7 climate change, 62 Early Iron Age, 3 EIA, 201 grape pips, 51 in funerary contexts, 76 oil-producing plants, 202 olive, EIA, 201 Postpalatial, 159 publication of, 4 wine making, 203, 237 archaeological survey, 6, 248

IN D EX

Archanes feasting at, 65, 67 Archilochus, 265 Archondiko, 202 grape cultivation, 202 lallemantia, 202 North Aegean amphoras, 237 Areni cave, 5, 49 Argilos North Aegean amphoras, 237 Argolid amphoriskoi, 221 depopulation, 164 exports from, 121 olive cultivation, EIA, 202 speleothems, 23 transport stirrup jar production, 144 Argos, 203 Postpalatial occupation, 156 wealthy burials, 328 Arkadikos, 202 Arkalochori, 68 Arkhanes gift exchange at, 75 Linear A, 58 Armenoi grave offerings, 130 aryballos Corinthian, 285 Asine altar, 218 apsidal building, 209 feasting at, EIA, 207 feasting in cemetery, 267, 268 gift exchange at, 129 libation, 125 storage, 210 Aspros North Aegean amphoras, 237 Assiros grape cultivation, 202 lallemantia, 202 North Aegean amphoras, 233, 237 oil-producing plants, 202 Atalanti North Aegean amphoras, 233 Athenaeus, 263, 329 Athens EIA population, 198 kraters, 256 polis, 245 production of perfumed oil, 222 Atlit Yam, 5 Attica, 156 Bronze Age funerary equipment, 131 lekythoi, 220 olive cultivation, EIA, 202 round-mouthed amphoras, 183

Axiochori North Aegean amphoras, 237 Ayia Irini oval-mouthed amphoras, 83 transport stirrup jars, 84 Ayios Konstantinos, Methana cooking, 123 libation, 125 Ayios Mamas grape cultivation, 203 lallemantia, 202 Azokeramos, 54, 56 Azoria, 7, 249, 250 oil processing, 250 olive pressing installation, 249 balance weights, 224 basileus, 328 Berbati gift exchange at, 129 libation, 125 Biblis wine from, 247 bio-indicators olive trees and grapevines as, 32 Black Sea, 287, 297 branding, 313, See also transport stirrup jar modern Greece, 313 cabotage, 288 calculative agencies, 15, 73 Camarina Corinthian A amphoras, 280, 285 SOS amphoras, 285 Canaanite jar funerary offerings, 131 reciprocal trade, 141 canals, 205 Carthage SOS amphoras, 288 cash crop, 9 Caulonia Corinthian A amphoras, 284 Cavallino Corinthian A amphoras, 284 Cerveteri SOS amphoras, 284 Chalcis, 200 amphora types, 275 Chalcolithic era, 5 Chalinomouri terracing at, 60 Chalkidike Euboean colonization, 200 North Aegean amphora production, 229 Chamalevri, 329 champagne cup, 120 chieftain, 246

397

398

I ND E X

Choiromandres, 54 dams at, 60 chora, 328 cist tombs, 198 cisterns, 59 Classical era, 3, 32, 75, 202 amphoras, 282 colonization, 328 communal dining, 259, 261 drinking equipment, 169 first fruits offering, 272 funeral feast, 218 hydrias, 186 lekythoi, 220 presses, 7 private feasting, 263 regional amphora styles, 230 surplus trade, 283 Symposia, 263 transport amphoras, 242 climate change aridity, 163 as a process, 21 bio-indicators, 32 Crete, 30 Holocene, 21 Homeric Low, 31, 253, 254, 324 modern, 309 perception of, 25, 63 proxy data, 23 proxy, definition, 27 rapid climate change event, 30, 205 shift to bi-modal climate, 61 surplus production, 254 time scales, 24 vulnerability, 24 collapse, 201 affect on entanglement, 11 climate change, 205 Mycenaean palatial, 155 collective individuation, 66 colonies foundation of, 199 colonization, 245 Athens, 331 characteristics of, Greek, 246 north Aegean, 200 production of oil and wine, 292 consumption, 13, 18 containers, 5 drinking, 5, 40 elite control, 300 elite participation, 303 non-elite access, 303 non-elite participation, 304 of meat, 324 of wine, 72 cooking, 40, 50, 68, 69, 71

leaders’ dwellings, 207 Midea, 123 Postpalatial, 166, 167, 168 residue analysis, 125 Corinth colonization, 200 pithoi, 203 polis, 245 Corinthian A amphora, 276 characteristics of, 280 distribution, Italy, 284 distribution, Sicily, 284 imports to Athens, 282 Corinthian isthmus, 287 cremation, 157, 220, 272 Crete, 8, 42, 53, 127, 189, 316, 318, 320, 321, 348, 366, 382 Crotone Corinthian A amphoras, 284 cultural commodities, 1, 4, 9, 16, 45, 96, 147, 153, 155, 196, 197, 298 definition, 9, 305 identity, 9, 245 modern Greece, 308 cultural economy paradigm, 15, 39, 64 Cumae SOS amphoras, 284 Cup of Nestor, 266 curvilinear buildings, 198, See apsidal buildings Cyclades stirrup jar production, 147 Cypro-Minoan, 142 on amphoras, 185 Cyprus Archaic Greek influence, 288 import of kraters, 170 imports from, 72 location of amphoras, 20 merchants, 179 pithoi, 185 transport stirrup jars, 141 dais, 265 dams, 59, 60, 102, 156, 163, 205 Dattalla, 291 deep bowl, 171, 213 deep-sea sediment cores, 28 Deiras, 129 Delos, 246, 294 Delphi, 201, 246 grape cultivation, 203 Delphinos sediment core, 62 demographic shift climate change, 164 Demosthenes, 283 Dendra, 129 dependence, 14

IN D EX

dependency, 12, 88, 93, 147, 149, 293 and climate change, 61 and elite competition, 94 decrease in scale, 194 Mycenaean palaces, 152 negative connotations, 154 transition from dependence, 90, 304 Diaskari, 81 diet, 3 Diktili Tash, 30 grape cultivation, 203 Dimitra grape cultivation, 203 Dioscorides, 116 directional trade, 138, 140 domestication, 5, 10 domesticated plants, 5, 27 olives and grapes, first, 5 olives and grapes, Italy, 330 Drapinias feasting at, 65, 69 Dreros law code, 328 drinking equipment cemeteries, 76 decoration, Postpalatial, 171 drinking set, 72 as export, 142 funerary, 221 drought, 163, 196 affect on olive trees, 36 dynamic stability, 298 and collapse, 302 Early Iron Age, 42, 159 regional sanctuaries, 199 Edessa North Aegean amphoras, 237 Eion North Aegean amphoras, 237 El Niño, 30 Elateia, 156 feasting at, 174, 204 grave goods, 177 imported amphoras, 189 imported amphoriskoi, 190 imported objects, 190 North Aegean amphoras, 223, 233 Elis, 131, 294 use of kylix, EIA, 214 emporoi, 297 Enkomi Mycenaean imports, 153 transport stirrup jars, Postpalatial, 191 entanglement centrality, 12 centralized, 150 definition, 10 dependence, 10, 12

dependency, 9 directionality, 11 influence of elites, 300 long-term, 12 Mycenaean palatial era, 13 regional, 243 scale, 12 thing theory, 10, 12 Ephesos North Aegean amphoras, 234 Epidauros Apollo Maleatas, 123 equipment, 6, 118, 129 drinking equipment, 319 Eretria, 200 feasting at, 261 North Aegean amphoras, 236 wealthy burials, 328 Etruscan amphoras, 285 Euboea colonization, 200 exports, 243 Euripos Strait, 156, 260 Eusebius, 328 exchange, viii, 15, 107, 303, 317 distribution patterns, 20 Ezbet Rushdi, 84 farmsteads, 5, 6, 48, 56 feasting, 118, 317, 322, 324 and wine presses, 65 as response to distress, 94 as surplus exchange, 17 at Neopalatial palaces, 68 at peak sanctuaries, 67 at villas, 72 Bronze Age, 5 categories of, 18, 256 communal dining halls, 69, 260, 290 competition, 73, 258 diacritical, 118, 148, 172 Dietler, Michael, 18 diversity of, 255 drinking sets, 66, 117 empowering, 71 images of, 121, 264 in cemeteries, 65, 88, 123, 150, 174, 219, 267 in sanctuaries, 65, 122, 123, 168 inside tombs, 67, 268 large-scale communal, 65 patron-role, 71 religion, 255 state-sponsored, 150 wedding, 266 women, 291 flavored wine, 115 Foxhall, Lin, 202 François vase, 279

399

400

I ND E X

Galatas feasting at, 68, 72 gift exchange at, 129 oval-mouthed amphoras, 81 transport stirrup jars, 86 Gallikos North Aegean amphoras, 237 Gavdos, 158 Linear A, 53 press beds, bedrock, 52 Gibala-Tell Tweini, 30 gift-giving amphoras as funerary gift, 131, 222 Bronze Age, 5 drinking set, 130 first fruits, 272 hydrias as funerary gift, 222 Linear A, 74 Mauss, Marcel, 19 meals for gods, 127 non-commensal, 74 perfumed oil, 173, 177 unguent vessels, 130 Gla, 163 global warming, 309 Golemi, 156 Gona North Aegean amphoras, 237 Gonies gift exchange at, 75 Gournia, 54 oval-mouthed amphoras, 81 terracing at, 60 transport stirrup jars, 86 grape varieties evidence for, 32 grapevine temperature limits, 34 Greece (modern) olive oil consumption, 308 olive oil production, 310 viticulture, 308 water resources, 309, 312

North Aegean amphoras, 237 hekatompedon, 261 Hellenistic, 3, 6, 7, 47 colonization, 328 communal dining, 259 Hermes, 271 Herodotus, 286, 287, 288, 305 Hesiod harvesting wine, 252 land ownership, 247 location of presses, 252 pressing techniques, 252 surplus, 253 sweet wine, 115 trade, 331 Works and Days, 247, 252 hestiatoria, 258 Hipponax, 265 historical ecology, 22, 24, 298, 308 Hodder, Ian, xiii, 10, 299, 316 Holocene, 27 Homeric Low. See climate change Homeric poems aged wine, 116 estate ownership, 247 feasting in, 255, 259 flavored wine, 115 gift-exchange, 270, 274 identity, 306 libation, 271 pithoi, 204 trade, 225, 331 honey, 115 Huelva Athenian imports, 274 hydria, 12 as funerary offering, 222 as transport container, 186 Postpalatial use, 183 production, Postpalatial, 187 hydromel, 293 Hymettos feasting at, 211

Haghia Triada, 138 feasting at, 65 Linear A, 58, 70, 74, 89 oval-mouthed amphoras, 81 transport stirrup jars, 86 Haghia Triada sarcophagus, 130 Haghia Triada, Argolid, 123 Hala Sultan Tekke transport stirrup jars, Postpalatial, 191 Halasmenos amphora imports, 188 round-mouthed amphora, 183 transport stirrup jars, imported, 188 Halos

Ialysos, 177 identity, 65 and drinking, 307 and feasting, 71 and the Minoan palaces, 93 collective, 18 connection to drinking equipment, 216 definition of, 305 during communal activities, 66 Greekness, 305 indigenous, 306 modern Greece, 308 oil and wine as markers of, 3, 297 Postpalatial era, 164

IN D EX

religion, 294 Incoronata Corinthian A amphoras, 284 SOS amphoras, 284 Iolkos grape cultivation, 203 North Aegean amphoras, 231, 233, 234, 237 Ionia, 199 Iouktas, 68 Iria drinking equipment, 258 feasting at, 258 irrigation, 34, 36, 59, 62, 102 Isthmia, 210 drinking equipment, 258 feasting at, 210, 258 Sanctuary of Poseidon, 210 Istria SOS amphoras, 287 Italy merchants, 179 trade in EIA, 226 Itanos terracing at, 60 Ithaca use of kylix, EIA, 214 Jordan Valley, 5 jug Postpalatial use, 183 Juktas gift exchange at, 75 Kalapodi, 156, 199 feasting at, 168, 204, 210, 303 grape cultivation, 203 North Aegean amphoras, 233 Kamares feasting at, 65 Kamilari wine press models, 65 kantharos, 268 Kapakli, 222 kapeleia. See taverns Karabournaki grape cultivation, 203 North Aegean amphoras, 237 wine production, 237 Karoumes oval-mouthed amphoras, 81 Karphi gift exchange at, 75 round-mouthed amphora, 183 transport stirrup jars, 182, 187, 188 Kastanas, 198 agriculture, 202 feasting at, 207 grape cultivation, 202

lallemantia, 202 North Aegean amphoras, 229, 233 oil-producing plants, 202 pot marks, 231 Kato Syme, 68 feasting at, 68 gift exchange at, 75 Kato Zakros, 82 Kavala North Aegean amphoras, 237 Kavousi round-mouthed amphora, 183 terracing at, 60 transport stirrup jars, imported, 188 Kea Linear A, 59 keimelia, 157, 225 Keos funerary law, 273 oval-mouthed amphoras, 84 SOS amphoras, 283 Kerameikos, 174 feasting at, 268 funerary offerings, 272 types of offerings, 273 kernoi, 127 Khania, 139, 183 as regional administrative center, 141 feasting at, 68 Linear A, 58 transport stirrup jars, 86, 140, 141, 181 transport stirrup jars, imported, 188 Klazomenai, 7, 200, 249, 251 North Aegean amphora production, 229 North Aegean amphoras, 234 olive pressing installation, 250 Klimataria, 81 Knossos, 81 as dominant influence, 93, 94, 96 Athenian imports, 274 Cypro-Minoan, 142 feasting at, 68 inscribed stirrup jars, 135 Linear A, 58 oval-mouthed amphoras, 81, 92 polis, 245 press installations, olive oil, 54, 98 transport stirrup jars, 86, 138 Unexplored Mansion, 320 Kochei at Neos Marmaras North Aegean amphoras, 237 koine, 195, 240, 303 as shared value system, 186, 240, 300 East Mainland-Aegean, 183, 186, 239 Euboean, 300 north-west Aegean, 197, 239, 325 Kokla, 129 Kolaios, the Samian, 286

401

402

I ND E X

Kommos, 138, 139, 160 Cypro-Minoan, 142 feasting at, 71, 72, 91 oval-mouthed amphoras, 80, 81 press installations, 56 press installations, olive oil, 53, 99 terracing at, 60 trade with Levant, 141 transport stirrup jars, 86, 141 Kopais basin, 163 Korakou, 156 feasting at, 166 olive pits, 159 pressing installation, 158 storage, 162 use of kylikes, 171 Kos oval-mouthed amphoras, 84 Kotihi lagoon, 202 Kranie at Platamon North Aegean amphoras, 237 krater, 207 Archaic era, 273 as export, 142 as gift, 274 Cesnola, 274 decoration, Postpalatial, 171 in situ, 210 introduction of, 120 oversize, 213 pictorial, 121 Postpalatial, 170 Postpalatial era, 169 use in EIA feasting, 213 Kritsana North Aegean amphoras, 237 kylix, 120, 148, 150, 167 abandonment of, 171, 213 drinking rituals, 123 in ritual context, 124 miniature, 125, 129 residue analysis, 123 Kynos, 156 decline of, 195 destruction of, 157 drinking equipment, 171 harbor, 225 kraters, 170 North Aegean amphoras, 233 pictorial pottery, 172, 179 pithoi, 204 stirrup jars, decorated, 190 storage, 162 Laconia imported Cretan stirrup jars, 190 Lake Kournas sediment core, 62

Lallemantia, 202 Lavrion EIA, 225 leaders’ dwelling, 199, 206, 261, 303 feasting at, 207, 218, 241 ritual features, 218 storage, 241 Lebet Table North Aegean amphoras, 237 Lefkandi, 156 decline of, 195 EIA population, 198 feasting at, 219 grave gifts, 222 leadership, 157 North Aegean amphoras, 223, 233, 236 pithoi, 203 pot marks, 231 storage, 162 Toumba building, 207, 209, 213 Toumba cemetery, 221, 223 Xeropolis. See Xeropolis Leivithra North Aegean amphoras, 237 lekythos Attica, 295 invention of, 220 libation, 271 Lelantine Plain, 225 Lemnos North Aegean amphoras, 234 Lesbos modern olive cultivation, 308 North Aegean amphoras, 235 Leukopetra North Aegean amphoras, 237 libation, 124, 242, 267, 270, 304 EIA, 220 funerary context, 129 images of, 271 inside tomb, 129 literary references, 271 quantity of, 273 libation table, 50 Linear A agricultural production, 56 and the palaces, 92 feasting, 67, 69 feasting records, 58 inscriptions on vases, 58 oil and wine ideograms, 57 olive oil, 54 on pithos, 51 wine, 53 Linear B, 96, 299 cadastral survey, 99 characteristics, 99 feasting, 122

IN D EX

grapevines, 100 inventory tablets, 110 Knossos, 100, 106 land used for olive and grape cultivation, 100 liquid measurement, 106 Mycenae, 101 oil and wine ideograms, 102 oil ideogram variations, 116 painted on pots, 135 perfumed oil, 110, 116 Pylos, 101, 106, 119, 122, 126 religious festivals, 127 religious offerings, 126 taxation, 106, 126 Thebes, 127 transport stirrup jars, 137 wine ideogram variations, 115 wine used for payment, 132 linseed oil, 202 Little Ice Age, 35, 36, 61, 312 Livari offerings in tomb, 76 Locrian Maidens, 240 Lokris, 156 increase in storage, 203 North Aegean amphora, 229 long-distance trade Postpalatial era, 179, 190 long-term perspective, 4, 22, 26, 308 Maa Palaikastro transport stirrup jars, Postpalatial, 191 Macedonia apsidal buildings, 198 climate, 206 North Aegean amphora, 226 population movement, 200 settlement structure, EIA, 199 Makriyalos, 202 Makrygialos, 81 Malia inscribed stirrup jars, 135 oval-mouthed amphoras, 80, 92 press installations, 54 production of amphoras, 80 transport stirrup jars, 86 Mandalo, 202 lallemantia, 202 Marmariani North Aegean amphoras, 223, 234, 237 Mavri Tripa, 102 Medieval Climate Anomaly, 34, 37 Megara Hyblaea Corinthian A amphoras, 285 SOS amphoras, 285 megaron, 157 change to, Postpalatial, 165

Melidoni cave feasting at, 68 Melos oval-mouthed amphoras, 84 memory of palatial past, 157 Menander, 266, 329 Mende foundation of, 200 North Aegean amphora production, 229 North Aegean amphoras, 223, 233, 237 Sanctuary of Poseidon, 326 Sanctuary of Poseidon Pontios, 200 SOS amphora, 288 SOS amphoras, 282 wine production, 200 Menelaion transport stirrup jars, 140 merchant, 296 Aegina, 287 Corinthian, 287 Cypriots, 288 Greek, 286 Phoenicians, 287 Samians, 287 Mesara and the production of oval-mouthed amphoras, 80 oval-mouthed amphoras, 92 transport stirrup jars, 135 Mesimeriani Toumba, 203 Messenia, 23 olive cultivation, EIA, 202 use of kylix, EIA, 214 Messinia pollen cores, 201 metal bronze, access to, 160 demand for, EIA, 225 production of, Postpalatial, 159 standards of value, 238 Metaponto SOS amphoras, 284 Metauros Corinthian A amphoras, 284 Methana archaeobotanical remains, 159 Methone foundation of, 200 North Aegean amphora production, 229 North Aegean amphoras, 226, 237 SOS amphoras, 282 microclimates, 62, 163 middle ground, 239, 243 Midea drinking equipment, 171 feasting at, 123, 165 gift exchange at, 128

403

404

I ND E X

Midea (cont.) imported stirrup jar, 145 kraters, 170 megaron reuse, 165 postpalatial occupation, 156 transport stirrup jars, 140 Milazzo Corinthian A amphoras, 284 Miletos pottery production, 146 Miletus Minoan imports, 83 oval-mouthed amphoras, 83 stirrup jar production, 145 Minoan Halls, 71, 73 Mitrou, 156 Building A, 209 feasting at, 207 harbor, 225 kraters, 170 megaron reuse, 166 North Aegean amphoras, 233 pithoi, 203 survey, 203 mobilization, 110 Mochlos dams, 60 feasting at, 69, 72, 91 olive remains, 329 oval-mouthed amphoras, 81 perfumed oil, 54 press beds, 50 press installations, 56 terracing at, 60 transport stirrup jars, 86 Motya SOS amphoras, 288 Murray, Sarah, 159, 178 must, 5, 158, 291, see also wine production Mycenae decline of, 195 feasting at, 123, 166 gift exchange at, 128, 129 House of the Oil Merchant, 132 House of the Wine Merchant, 139 kraters, 170 libation, 125 megaron reuse, 165 oil and wine storage, 113 oval-mouthed amphoras, 84 Postpalatial occupation, 156 Postpalatial storage, 161 transport stirrup jars, 113, 140, 187 Myrtos, 92 feasting at, 65 press beds, 50

naukleroi, 297 Naxos Corinthian A amphoras, 284 imported Cretan stirrup jars, 190 pithoi, 204 Nea Kallikrateia North Aegean amphoras, 237 Nea Nikomideia North Aegean amphoras, 237 Nea Philadelphia North Aegean amphoras, 237 Neochori North Aegean amphoras, 237 Nichoria agriculture, 201 archaeobotanical remains, 159 circular platform, 218 feasting at, 207 grape cultivation, 203 storage, 209 Nopigeia feasting at, 70 North Aegean amphora, 197, 247, 303 brand, 238 chronology of, 227 Group II, 229 Group II, pot marks, 232 in Near East, 226 in tombs, 223 Lefkandi Toumba, 223 pot marks, 230 production, early, 227, 237 production, late, 229, 238 purpose of, 226 regionalism, 275 standardization, 242 typology, 227 value of, 223, 240 oikos, 157, 194, 260 EIA, 219 oil production first evidence in Greece, 6 olive cultivation first evidence in Greece, 6 olive oil as semi-luxury commodity, 202 northern Greece, 202 olive tree temperature limits, 34 Olympia, 210, 246, 294 feasting at, 211, 303 Olynthos North Aegean amphoras, 237 press installation, 251 Oropos feasting at, 260

IN D EX

Otranto SOS amphoras, 284 oval-mouthed amphora at palatial sites, 81 characteristics, 79 disuse, 181 initial creation, 77 localized production strategy, 82 production, 80 trade routes, 81 Pakijana, 122, 127 palaeoclimatic data, 22 palaeoenvironmental analyses, 4 Palaikastro, 82 feasting at, 91 oval-mouthed amphoras, 80, 81, 82 press installation, 53 press installations, 54, 56, 98 terracing at, 60 transport stirrup jars, 86, 141 wells at, 60 Palaikastro Kastri round-mouthed amphora, 183 Pale Corinthian A amphoras, 284 Palestine, 5 Panathenaic amphora, 280 Papadiokampos oval-mouthed amphoras, 81 Paros, 200 Pausanias, 272 Peloponnese climate, 23 pollen cores, 27 Perati, 40, 174 access to metals, 225 Attic copper mines, 179 stirrup jars, 176 vessel use, 177 perfumed oil, 110, 148 as export, 153 as gift, 126 decorated stirrup jar, 176 elite control, 302 feasting, 119 in funerary context, 130, 221, 273, 304 Knossos, 110 Mochlos, 50 Mycenae, 110 Pylos, 110, 113 surplus of, 194 value, 141 perfumed oil workshop, 54 Pergamon North Aegean amphora production, 229 North Aegean amphoras, 234

Perivolaki North Aegean amphoras, 237 Petras, 54 feasting at, 68, 70, 72 offerings in tomb, 76 oval-mouthed amphoras, 81, 92 production of amphoras, 80 Phaistos dams, 60 feasting at, 68, 72, 119 gift exchange at, 75 Linear A, 58, 70 oval-mouthed amphoras, 80, 81 press installations, 54, 98 transport stirrup jars, 86 Pherai North Aegean amphoras, 234 Phocis, 156 Phoenician-Punic amphoras, 285 Phoenicians, 243 amphoras, 288 Iberia, 285 in Homeric poems, 225 search for metals, 225 Phokis increase in storage, 203 Phourni, 82 gift exchange at, 75 Phylakopi, 128 Pieria climate, 206 Euboean colonization, 200 Pindar, 265, 271 Pisa, 294 Pithekoussai, 292, 303 Archaic trade, 284 Corinthian A amphoras, 284 North Aegean amphora, 226 North Aegean amphoras, 235 SOS amphoras, 284 pithos, 203 applied-relief, 204 conspicuous storage, 204 Pitsidia, 81 Plato, 263 Pliny, 1, 2, 316 Plutarch, 329 Polichni grape cultivation, 203 North Aegean amphoras, 237 Policoro Cypriot graffito, 288 SOS amphoras, 284 polis, 243, 245, 328 communal dining, 259 production of surplus, 289 pollen cores, 27

405

406

I ND E X

Pontecagnano Corinthian A amphoras, 284 poppy oil, 202 Poros-Katsambas, 141, 160 Poseidi. See Sanctuary of Poseidon Pontios Poseidon, 127, 128 sanctuary of, 326 Postpalatial era, 131 pot marks, 224 EIA, 231 incised, 231 interpretation, 232 painted, 231 Potnia, 126 Aswiya, 126 pottery production of, Postpalatial, 159 Pottery Neolithic period, 5 Preclassical global crisis, 31, 253 prekteres, 297 presses, 5 Archaic, 248 as proxies for scale of production, 6 bedrock, early modern, 52 Classical, 6, 98, 248, 251 Early Iron Age, 7 Hellenistic, 248 hexiplex shells, 53 lever and beam, 7, 249, 250 location, 6 location of, Minoan, 54 location of, Mycenaean, 98, 150 Medieval, 7 Minoan, 47 mortars, 6, 158 multiple types, 6 Mycenaean, 97 olive oil, 53 Postpalatial, 158 Postpalatial era, 7 reuse, 6 Roman, 6, 248 trapetum, 7, 249 Type I, 48, 49 types of, 7 with amphoras, 56 production, 6, 13, 15, 32, 53, 110, 315, 319, 321 elite control, 301, 302 localized, 182 oil and wine, initial, 5 oil and wine, modern Greece, 9 oil, introduction of, 3 regional, 242 Profitis Ilias cave, 123 propagation, 10 Prosymna, 268 gift exchange at, 129

Pseira oval-mouthed amphoras, 81 water managment features, 60 Psychro feasting at, 65 Pylos, 140 agriculture, 102 display of elite status, 302 feasting at, 118, 166 frescoes, 121 funerary equipment, 124 libation, 125 mainland stirrup jars, 140, 144 oval-mouthed amphoras, 84 Postpalatial occupation, 156 Postpalatial storage, 161 Wine Magazine, 111, 115 Pyrasos North Aegean amphoras, 234 Pyrgos Linear A, 58 pyxis, 273 rain-fed agriculture, 36, 310 Ramesses III tomb of, 191 Reggio Corinthian A amphoras, 284 Rema Pharmaki, 156 reservoirs, 59 residue analysis, 4, 5, 53, 68, 319 cooking pots, 4 grave offerings, 130 honey, 115 Mycenae, 123 North Aegean amphora, 226 olive oil press, 250 press beds, 50 resinated wine, 130 retsina, 125 stirrup jars, 176 Thebes, 114 wine, 50 resiliency, 4, 22, 304 adaptive cycle, 254 climate change, 22, 24 ecological, 254 resinated wine, 142 Rhodes pithoi, 204 SOS amphoras, 283 stirrup jar production, 145, 146 rhyton, 125, 129 Riza, 81 Roman, 3, 6, 32, 315, 316 colonization, 328 Romania, 29 round-mouthed amphora, 182

IN D EX

as transport container, 183 regional trade, 188 twisted handles, 183 Salamis, 274 Cypro-Minoan, 142 SOS amphoras, 289 Samaria Athenian imports, 274 Samos North Aegean amphoras, 235 sanctuaries feasting at, 258 Sane North Aegean amphoras, 233 Sane Pallinis North Aegean amphoras, 237 Sardinia, 292 Sariomer North Aegean amphoras, 237 Seal stone, 140 Servia, 202 Sfendami North Aegean amphoras, 237 ship imagery Postpalatial era, 179 shipwreck, 5, 190, 337 Cape Gelidonya, 142, 143 Dokos, 143 Kosta-Hermionid, 143 Modi, 186 oval-mouthed amphoras, 84 Point Iria, 142, 143, 184 Pseira island, 80 Tanit and Elissa, 288 transport stirrup jars, 141 Uluburun, 142, 145, 178, 187, 299, 325 Yagana, 325 short-necked amphora, 139 shrines, 125, 126 domestic, 68 Siberian High, 205 Sicily colonization of, 247 SOS amphoras, 284 Sindos North Aegean amphora production, 229 North Aegean amphoras, 233, 234, 237 Siris Corinthian A amphoras, 284 Sitagroi grape cultivation, 203 Skala Sotiros, 203 Skinias, 86 Skotino feasting at, 65 skyphos Attica, 295

concentric circles, 300 grape pressing image, 250 pendant semicircle, 200 preferred vessel, EIA, 215 use in feasting, EIA, 213 Skyros, 177 grave gifts, 222 North Aegean amphoras, 234 Solon, 265, 329 SOS amphora, 276 characteristics of, 277 contents of, 279 Cypriot graffito, 288 distribution, early, 281 distribution, Iberia, 285 distribution in Greece, 282 distribution, Italy, 284 distribution, Sicily, 284 markings on, 282 names engraved, 296 production of, 277 southern Italy olive cultivation in, 36 Sparta communal dining, 259 Spartia, 156 speleothems, 23, 28, 102, 205 Spensitheos decree, 291 state emergence of, 246 stirrup jar, decorated, 175 characteristics, 176 disuse, 176, 220 in funerary context, 131 production, 176 trade in, 190 storage containers, 5 at sanctuaries, 75 Postpalatial houses, 160 storage facilities Postpalatial houses, 159, 160 Strabo, 285, 328 surplus, 13 affect of climate change, 28 amphora production, 275 and dependency, 90 and feasting, 70 and Minoan palaces, 87 competition, 162 elite production, 267 export of, 247 feasting, 8 gift-giving, 8 household, 168 in modes of exchange, 17 in sanctuaries, 75 of oil and wine, generally, 8 oil-producing plants, 202

407

408

I ND E X

surplus (cont.) olive oil, 63 Postpalatial era, 159 production of, 8 religion, 204 trade of, 20 Sventza, 156 Sybaris Corinthian A amphoras, 284 Symposion, 169, 295 definition of, 263 equipment, 256 libation, 271 Syracuse connection to Corinth, 286 Corinthian A amphoras, 284 syssita, 259, 265 tavern Classical, 282 taxation, 152, 263 Tel el-Amarna, 142 Teleilat Ghassoul, 5 Tell Abu Hawam transport stirrup jars, 141 temple development of, 199 feasting at, 218 Terpander, 265 terraces, 60 textiles production of, Postpalatial, 159 Thasos, 29 North Aegean amphoras, 235 SOS amphoras, 282 speleothems, 29 wine trade, 282 Thebes inscribed stirrup jars, 135 North Aegean amphoras, 237 oil and wine storage, 114 stirrup jar production, 144 transport stirrup jars, 140 Thera SOS amphoras, 283 Thermaic Gulf, 197, 226, 238, 241, 303 North Aegean amphora production, 229 Thermaic Gulf amphora. See North Aegean amphora Therme North Aegean amphoras, 237 Thermon bothroi, 218 feasting at, 207 Megaron B, 208 Thermos, 294 Thessaloniki Toumba EIA population, 198

feasting at, 207, 215 grape cultivation, 203 lack of kraters, 217 Mycenaean pottery, 216, 217 North Aegean amphoras, 233, 237 Thessaly, 197 grave gifts, 222 North Aegean amphora, 226 North Aegean amphora production, 229 North Aegean amphoras, 234 olive cultivation, 36 population movement, 199 Thronos Kephala amphora imports, 188 round-mouthed amphoras, 183 transport stirrup jars, 181 transport stirrup jars, imported, 188 Thucydides, 1, 2, 3, 285, 307, 325, 328 tin import of, 225 Tiryns agriculture, 159 Building T, 160, 165 decline of, 195 feasting at, 168 hoard, 157 imported Cretan stirrup jars, 190 imports from Crete, 188 inscribed stirrup jars, 135 kraters, 170 Megaron W, 168 pithoi, 203 Postpalatial occupation, 156 Postpalatial trade, 178 transport stirrup jars, 140, 147 water management, 163 toasting, 121, 124, 148 in front of tomb, 129 tomb cult, 268, 295 Torone, 220, 325, 326 Mendaian wine, 242 North Aegean amphoras, 223, 233, 234 Toscanos SOS amphoras, 285 Tourtouloi, 54, 55 traditional olive cultivation, 32 transport containers, 5, 317, 319, See amphoras as proxies for contents, 79 transport stirrup jar and elites, 89 as brand, 89, 147, 153 as diplomatic gift, 142 as funerary offerings, 131 Cypro-Minoan script, 142 distribution, Postpalatial era, 188 disuse, 181 early characteristics, 85 elite control, 302

IN D EX

imitation of, 86 initial creation, 78 initial production, 84 inscribed stirrup jars, 135 later characteristics, 132 long-distance exchange, 84 Mainland version, 141, 144 Postpalatial, 168 Postpalatial Crete, 181 production on Anatolian coast, 145 production regions, 133 production techniques, 85 Ramesses III tomb, 192 seal impressions, 140 simplification of, 187 symbolic value, 147 Tripiti Cypro-Minoan, 142 tripod, 211 Troy climate change, 30 North Aegean amphora, 226 North Aegean amphora production, 229 North Aegean amphoras, 197, 234 Postpalatial import, 187 pot marks, 231 stirrup jar production, 145 Tylissos, 138 Tyre, 225 Athenian imports, 274 Tyrtaeus, 265 Ugarit Mycenaean imports, 153 transport stirrup jars, 141 Vagia, 156 value, 14, 15 and feasting, 70, 291 as a component of exchange, 15 construction of, 15, 239 history of scholarship, 14 objects, 16 of oil and wine, 40, 88, 90 of surplus oil and wine, 77 of transport stirrup jar, 85 of wine, 65 regimes of, 20, 245, 292 value-added, 4, 8, 188, 195, 238 within exchange contexts, 149 Vaste Corinthian A amphoras, 284 Vathypetro, 54, 56, 82 press installations, 54 transport stirrup jars, 86 véraison, 33 Viglatouri feasting at, 260 villas production of wine and oil, 56, 91

vinegar, 115 Volimidia, 129 Volos North Aegean amphoras, 233, 237 Vrokastro terracing at, 60 wanax, 122, 128 inscribed stirrup jars, 136, 138 water management features, 102 and climate change, 61 and the need for land, 60 disuse, 163, 205 eastern Crete, 62 Minoan, 59 water resources modern Greece, 309 wells, 60, 102 wheat, 326 wild grapevine, 5, 62 wild olives, 5, 116 wine aged, 115 production in Italy, 329 wine production earliest evidence, 5 earliest evidence, Greece, 6 must, 50, 51 pithoi, 50 xenia, 265 Xenophon, 263, 272 Xeropolis agriculture, 159 destruction of, 157 feasting at, 167 feasting at, EIA, 207 harbor, 225 kraters, 170 North Aegean amphoras, 233 storage, 210 Zagora export of wine, 204 feasting at, 264 wine consumption, 203 Zakros, 54, 94 Epano, 55, 59 feasting at, 68 Linear A, 58 olive offering in tomb, 76 oval-mouthed amphoras, 92 press installation, 50, 53 transport stirrup jars, 86 Zawiyet Umm el-Rakham, 142 Zeus, 271 Zou press installation, Minoan, 56

409