The Process of Death
Jones, Olivia
DOI:
10.33612/diss.108355327
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Publication date: 2019
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Jones, O. (2019). The Process of Death: a bioarchaeological approach to Mycenaean mortuary traditions in Achaia. https://doi.org/10.33612/diss.108355327
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01
xii I’m thrilled that we are planning to continue our collaboration!
When I came to the Netherlands in 2012, I was convinced that I would “get in and get out” and likely not make any friends be-cause it was only going to be four years and I honestly thought I would be much older than the other students or too new for them to want to hang out. I now know those were incredibly naïve assumptions, the truth is that those fellow PhDs are your people because they know exactly what you’re going through. I thank the kind group of PhDs at Arizona State Univeristy for being welcoming and inviting me to cohort socials while I was there for a semester. I thank the Groningen Institute of Archaeology PhDs for generally being a daily resource in all things Dutch or academic. I’m especially thankful for the lively discussions and general cama-raderie of the “Writing Squad”. Special thanks go to Dr. Tanja van Loon and Dr. Sarah Willemsen for always letting me come into your office for tea and conversa-tion/commiseration. Your friendship and support made the GIA, and Groningen in general, feel like home.
To my dear paranymphs, Dr. Eleni Panagio-topoulou and the newly Dr. Tamara Dijkstra, I thank you for all of the feedback, for-matting, and translating that went into this thesis. But more importantly, I thank you for your close friendship over the years; you have become like sisters to me over these last seven years. I have shared everything from apartments to hair straighteners with you two and I never regretted it for one second. You are both lifelong friends, so I
suggest you settle in for the long haul be-cause in my mind, we are forever the “Greek girls” [insert karpoozi emoji].
Penultimate thanks are due to my patient, supportive family. They have been my unfai-ling cheerleaders since day one. They never once questioned my passion for archaeology and have been enthusiastic guests in Lon-don, Greece, Groningen, or wherever ar-chaeology took me. It is to them that I truly owe any success since they never pressured me to pursue any other career path. To my brother and sister, I thank you both for (nearly) always answering the phone when I called just to talk. Patrick, thank you for all those times that I crashed at your flat in London. Jana, your ability to instantly distract me from productive work with non-stop chatter was the double-edged sword that I sometimes needed when I was too disconnected from home. Lastly, I dedicate this thesis to those who did not live to see it finished, my grandmother, Zelma Huffman and Max the dog. My grandma was always eager to hear about my life, be my cheer-leader, or ready for a card game.
Finally, I must thank the person who was my biggest and more important supporter, my husband Zach. Five weeks before we got married, I was accepted for the PhD position in Groningen and from that day until now you never once questioned my choice. Rather, you made countless trips to and from the airport, and a few trips to Gro-ningen and Athens to spend time with me and learn about my research. Your faithful support will always be the most meaningful gift that you could have ever given me.
1
CHAPTER 1
Introduction
1.1 Introduction
This dissertation focuses on two main issues within Mycenaean burial traditions: secon-dary treatment and burial exclusion. Ap-proaching these themes with a multi-faceted bioarchaeological methodology has allowed me to explore Mycenaean burial in a new light. The evidence utilized in this study is a sample of cemetery sites with various tomb types from the region of Achaia. This sample was chosen based on availability and documentation of the human remains. Al-though the documentation of the human remains was not ideal since a bioarchae-ologist was not present during excavation, the quality of documentation was good enough in some tombs for exploring secon-dary burial and burial exclusion.
These themes lead to specific research ques-tions that correspond to the chapters within this thesis. My main questions and aims are:
1) What is the timeline of introduction and adoption of Mycenaean mortuary prac-tices in Achaia? By evaluating the changes through time, my aim in Chap-ter 2 is to explore mortuary variations in order to reconstruct which practices are one-off actions and which are true local traditions. Here, I employ archae-ological evidence such as tomb types, grave goods, and treatment of the body separated by Pre-Palatial, Palatial, Post-Palatial periods.
2) What is secondary burial in Mycenaean mortuary practice? How can we recon-struct the actions that produced the burial deposits? Mycenaean tombs
con-tain deposits of disarticulated and com-mingled human remains labeled as ‘se-condary burials’ without questioning their formation and without utilizing all evidence within the tombs. In Chapter 3 (Jones 2018a), I stress that the varia-tion and complexity of Mycenaean mor-tuary practices, especially secondary burial, can only be reconstructed using a bioarchaeological framework and in-terpreted with clear terminology. 3) In addition, the study of secondary
bu-rial must address the timing of tomb reuse, a feature that is not well under-stood. Thus, I ask, what is the timing of tomb reuse in a Mycenaean tholos tomb? Conducting radiocarbon sam-pling in reused tombs is often the only method that can accurately date multi-level reuse. In Chapter 4 (Jones et al 2018) I use the tholos tomb at Petroto to present a common issue in reused Mycenaean tombs and show how radio-carbon dating can aid in reconstructing the timing of burials.
4) Does burial exclusion exist in Myce-naean burials? Present research has ne-ver before employed a regional sample of skeletal data to address whether or not persons interred within Mycenaean chamber or tholos tombs were selected based on age or sex. In Chapter 5 (Jones 2018b), I utilize a sample of bioarchae-ological data from various sites in Achaia to evaluate if burial exclusion based on age or sex was present. 5) Finally, what is the demographic
com-position of the Mycenaean world? In recent decades, bioarchaeological
re-2 search has contributed data from all over the Mycenaean world. However, this growing body of data has not been combined in a synthetic study. Thus, there has been no evaluation of age and sex (gender) on a larger scale. In Chap-ter 6, I employ a synthesis of data and statistical rigor in order to reconstruct Mycenaean age and sex distributions, and unpack lingering assumptions of burial exclusion.
This dissertation is comprised of both chap-ters and articles of research demonstrating the immense potential of detailed
question-oriented osteological studies when applied to Mycenaean legacy data.
1.2 The State of the Research 1.2.1 Mycenaean Burial Practices
Since the days of Heinrich Schliemann and his quest to find the heroes and palaces of the Homeric poems, Mycenaean culture has been a major focus in Greek archaeology. Sypros Iakovidis, speaking in 1978 on the topic of “A Hundred Years of Mycenaean Archaeology” rightly states that Schlie-mann’s discovery of the Shaft Graves at Mycenae (Figure 1) made Mycenaean
arch-Figure 1. Map of Mycenaean Greece (adapted from Map 2 in Kelder 2010, 5).
ACHAIA
3
Table 1. Bronze Age Chronology in Greece (modified from Shelmerdine 1997: Table 1; Toffolo et al. 2013; Voutsaki 2010: Table 1, and Voutsaki et al. 2013: Table 1).
Time Period Abbreviation Approximate Dates (BC) Mycenaean Period
Middle Helladic I-II MH I-II 2100-1800 ----
Middle Helladic III MH III 1800-1700
Pre-Palatial/ Early Mycenaean
Late Helladic I LH I 1700-1580
Late Helladic II LH II 1580-1390
Late Helladic IIIA LH IIIA 1390-1300
Palatial
Late Helladic IIIB LH IIIB 1300-1190
Late Helladic IIIC LH IIIC 1190-1065 Post-Palatial
Submycenaean -- 1065-1000 --
aeology an overnight sensation (1978, 16). Just a few years shy of 150 years since Schliemann’s ground-breaking discovery, Mycenaean archaeology continues to fasci-nate the public, as recently seen in the Grif-fin Warrior found in 2015 in Pylos (Davis and Stocker 2017). Meticulous excavations throughout Greece and thorough research by Greek and international scholars has produced a tome of Mycenaean archaeolo-gical publications. From the (Tholos) Tomb of Atreus at Mycenae to the small, provincial tombs of Achaia, Mycenaean archaeology has benefitted from nearly two centuries of research. Thus, the mortuary sphere of My-cenaean archaeology stretches far and wide. These investigations have given us a gene-ral, although often incomplete, picture of the graves and burial practices that have cap-tivated both archaeologists and the public for over a century.
A brief review of mortuary practices during the preceding Middle Helladic (MH) period (see Table 1 for chronology) is necessary to contextualize the seemingly explosive and elaborate Mycenaean burial traditions. Middle Helladic burials are characterized by single or occasionally double, flexed burials in simple intramural (or nearby
settle-ments) pits or cists with few grave goods (Cavanagh and Mee 1998, 23–40). However, some regional traditions, such as tumuli containing multiple burials in Western Greece (e.g. Papadopoulos 1979, 49-50), show that variation also occurred during this period. Recent research by Michael Boyd has found evidence that all tombs types were present late in the Middle Helladic period, in smaller or rudimentary forms, suggesting that Mycenaean tomb architecture was introduced before the Late Helladic period (Boyd 2002, 92-95). By the end of the period, in Middle Helladic III, changes were occurring; graves became larger, more complex in construction with deeper pits, side entrances, and they con-tained more interments and greater wealth, with bodies placed more often in an ex-tended rather than flexed position (Cavanagh and Mee 1998, 23–40; Voutsaki 1998). The simple pit and cist graves continued in use throughout the Mycenaean period (mainly in intramural contexts for infants and children), and some tombs were less grand than others or contained few indications of wealth. By the Late Helladic period certain aspects, such as the extra-mural location, monumental tomb types
01
2 search has contributed data from all over the Mycenaean world. However, this growing body of data has not been combined in a synthetic study. Thus, there has been no evaluation of age and sex (gender) on a larger scale. In Chap-ter 6, I employ a synthesis of data and statistical rigor in order to reconstruct Mycenaean age and sex distributions, and unpack lingering assumptions of burial exclusion.
This dissertation is comprised of both chap-ters and articles of research demonstrating the immense potential of detailed
question-oriented osteological studies when applied to Mycenaean legacy data.
1.2 The State of the Research 1.2.1 Mycenaean Burial Practices
Since the days of Heinrich Schliemann and his quest to find the heroes and palaces of the Homeric poems, Mycenaean culture has been a major focus in Greek archaeology. Sypros Iakovidis, speaking in 1978 on the topic of “A Hundred Years of Mycenaean Archaeology” rightly states that Schlie-mann’s discovery of the Shaft Graves at Mycenae (Figure 1) made Mycenaean
arch-Figure 1. Map of Mycenaean Greece (adapted from Map 2 in Kelder 2010, 5).
ACHAIA
3
Table 1. Bronze Age Chronology in Greece (modified from Shelmerdine 1997: Table 1; Toffolo et al. 2013; Voutsaki 2010: Table 1, and Voutsaki et al. 2013: Table 1).
Time Period Abbreviation Approximate Dates (BC) Mycenaean Period
Middle Helladic I-II MH I-II 2100-1800 ----
Middle Helladic III MH III 1800-1700
Pre-Palatial/ Early Mycenaean
Late Helladic I LH I 1700-1580
Late Helladic II LH II 1580-1390
Late Helladic IIIA LH IIIA 1390-1300
Palatial
Late Helladic IIIB LH IIIB 1300-1190
Late Helladic IIIC LH IIIC 1190-1065 Post-Palatial
Submycenaean -- 1065-1000 --
aeology an overnight sensation (1978, 16). Just a few years shy of 150 years since Schliemann’s ground-breaking discovery, Mycenaean archaeology continues to fasci-nate the public, as recently seen in the Grif-fin Warrior found in 2015 in Pylos (Davis and Stocker 2017). Meticulous excavations throughout Greece and thorough research by Greek and international scholars has produced a tome of Mycenaean archaeolo-gical publications. From the (Tholos) Tomb of Atreus at Mycenae to the small, provincial tombs of Achaia, Mycenaean archaeology has benefitted from nearly two centuries of research. Thus, the mortuary sphere of My-cenaean archaeology stretches far and wide. These investigations have given us a gene-ral, although often incomplete, picture of the graves and burial practices that have cap-tivated both archaeologists and the public for over a century.
A brief review of mortuary practices during the preceding Middle Helladic (MH) period (see Table 1 for chronology) is necessary to contextualize the seemingly explosive and elaborate Mycenaean burial traditions. Middle Helladic burials are characterized by single or occasionally double, flexed burials in simple intramural (or nearby
settle-ments) pits or cists with few grave goods (Cavanagh and Mee 1998, 23–40). However, some regional traditions, such as tumuli containing multiple burials in Western Greece (e.g. Papadopoulos 1979, 49-50), show that variation also occurred during this period. Recent research by Michael Boyd has found evidence that all tombs types were present late in the Middle Helladic period, in smaller or rudimentary forms, suggesting that Mycenaean tomb architecture was introduced before the Late Helladic period (Boyd 2002, 92-95). By the end of the period, in Middle Helladic III, changes were occurring; graves became larger, more complex in construction with deeper pits, side entrances, and they con-tained more interments and greater wealth, with bodies placed more often in an ex-tended rather than flexed position (Cavanagh and Mee 1998, 23–40; Voutsaki 1998). The simple pit and cist graves continued in use throughout the Mycenaean period (mainly in intramural contexts for infants and children), and some tombs were less grand than others or contained few indications of wealth. By the Late Helladic period certain aspects, such as the extra-mural location, monumental tomb types
4 (tholoi and chamber tombs), and the reuse of tombs with multi-stage burial practices, characterize the Mycenaean mortuary koine despite some regional preferences and par-ticularities.
An important change from Middle Helladic to Mycenaean burial traditions was the loca-tion of graves outside of the settlement. Lo-cation was far from an arbitrary factor when choosing a space for a burial. In the early years of the Mycenaean period (pre-LH II) most of the mortuary landscape was located in close proximity to settlements; in Myce-nae, the Prehistoric Cemetery is directly ad-jacent to the settlement (though admittedly the boundaries are not clear – also because of the complex excavation history of this area). This closeness in many cases gra-dually shifts to tombs and cemeteries away from settlements; still within short walking distance, the neighboring hill or slope, but not just outside the settlement area any-more (Wells 1990, 128). The shift from tramural to extramural burial has been in-terpreted in various contexts as a change in ideology towards the dead (see Parker Pear-son 124-141 for more thorough discussion). Traditionally, burial types are classified into two general categories in Mycenaean stu-dies: the simple graves, including pits, cists, and pithoi, and the monumental/more ela-borate tombs: chamber tombs, tholoi, and tumuli (Cavanagh and Mee 1998, 124-125). Shaft graves, though sometimes categorized as simple graves (as was done in Chapter 7 of this dissertation for reasons outlined therein), could be placed in an intermediate category together with built tombs. The primary difference between the tholos and chamber tomb is their construction; the tholos is made of cut stones placed in a cor-belled fashion to create a beehive chamber, whereas the chamber tomb was carved out of soft bedrock. These tombs are considered monumental because a certain amount of materials and labor had to be organized.
The monumental construction of tholoi, chambers tombs and tumuli all entailed a certain level of planning and mobilization of labor (Cavanagh and Mee 1998, 78-79, 124). The building process itself must have com-manded a presence in the society as labor-intensive facilities for the dead had to be built, re-used, and maintained over time. However, tomb type is not always so clear-cut; there are other ambiguous categories such as large cist or pit graves, built tombs, shaft graves, and rudimentary tholoi (Papa-dimitriou 2015). Additionally, the simple graves declined in use overall, but they were also incorporated within the monumental forms, as seen in the small cists or pits dug into the floor of a large chamber tomb. Shaft graves are an ambiguous category: some graves referred to as shaft graves are actually large elaborate cist tombs. In ad-dition, the Shaft Graves in Mycenae required more energy expenditure than a small chamber tomb and some small, poorly built tholoi. However, these intermediate types (and the ensuing typological debates) are found mostly in the Prepalatial period. By the Palatial Period, tomb construction was dominated by two forms designed for reuse: the tholos and the chamber tomb (Cavanagh and Mee 1998, 41-60). These tomb types were similar in many architectural features such as the tripartite lay-out of dromos (narrow entryway), stomion (door), and chamber. While the tholos has traditionally been considered to be the “elite” tomb type, the lines are blurred for rudimentary tholoi and large regular, well-cut chamber tombs containing exotic, wealthy grave goods (Ca-vanagh and Mee 1998, 125). The chamber tomb is the most common tomb type with thousands of examples scattered all over the known Mycenaean world.
Turning to grave goods, the lavish objects, such as the golden masks and jewelry found in the Shaft Graves are not representative of Mycenaean grave goods in general but
5 rather, they are a unique case reflecting a specific time and place of conspicuous consumption via mortuary display (Shel-merdine 1997, 561; Voutsaki 1998). After this early competitive display in Mycenaean burial practices, there is a typical burial assemblage of artifacts, though with consi-derable variations, found in Mycenaean tombs. More commonly, burials were fur-nished with drinking vessels, such as kylikes or storage vessels, such as the characteristic stirrup jars. By LH IIB Mycenaean style and repertoire is clearly established and found in graves all over the Greek Mainland and even in burials at Knossos (Shelmerdine 1997, 561). Occasionally swords, knives, and other weapons are found in Mycenaean graves during the Palatial Period and espe-cially during the Post-Palatial Period (Cavanagh and Mee 1998, 50-51, 69, 95). So-called “Warrior Graves” complete with swords and knives with artistic rendering of hunting or military scenes are common in Achaia during the Post-Palatial Period (Shelmerdine 1997, 561).
In conclusion, burial traditions in the Myce-naean world were far from homogeneous. Burial styles changed greatly through time and in space during the roughly 500 years of Mycenaean cultural influence. Latest re-search has moved away from the emphasis on status in Mycenaean burials and has turned towards reconstructing the nuances of Mycenaean mortuary practices. Recently, various scholars have argued that although burial was a place to exhibit social differen-ces, it was also an opportunity for esta-blishing and displaying social cohesion and identity formation (Boyd 2015b;2016; Pa-padimitriou 2016; Voutsaki 2012; Moutafi and Voutsaki 2016).
1.2.2 Mycenaean Secondary Burial
The practice of multiple burial and tomb reuse has been a part of Greek prehistory at various times, but these complex mortuary acts are found mostly from the transition to
the Mycenaean period onwards (as outlined below). In stark contrast to the normal bu-rial repertoire of the Middle Helladic period, they do bear some similarity with the Early Helladic mortuary practices though there is variation during this period as well (Preve-dorou 2015; Preve(Preve-dorou and Stojanowski 2017; Weiberg 2013).
During the early formative years of Myce-naean mortuary practices, grave reuse in cists and pits precludes secondary and col-lective burial. The Shaft Graves of Mycenae are a good example; the graves were con-structed for initial interment and then reopened for multiple dead persons to be added with the bones of previously buried persons either separated by a layer of gravel and soil or moved to the sides of the tomb (Wells 1990, 135; Cavanagh and Mee 1998, 76). When tholoi and chamber tombs became fully adopted and part of the mor-tuary program, these more enclosed spaces with extensive postmortem manipulation created the well-recognized secondary and collective burial assemblages. Within the category of secondary burial, a distinction is often made between the piles of bones moved to the inner walls of the tomb and the bones packed into pits cut into the tomb floor. These deposits of disarticulated hu-man remains are both termed anakomidi in Greek archaeology, literally meaning “trans-ferred”. Secondary burials, in niches or cists cut into the floor, the wall or the dromos of these tombs become widespread and the scattering of bones in tombs, seen in detail in Petroto, also becomes more common (Wells 1990, 126). Secondary burial was merely one, often final, act of the burial program in many mortuary contexts. In short, secondary burial is a small snapshot of a larger whole in which all actions, both natural processes such as decomposition, and cultural acts such as the positioning of the body during primary burial or inten-tional or accidental disarticulation of earlier burials, can potentially affect the final burial
01
4 (tholoi and chamber tombs), and the reuse of tombs with multi-stage burial practices, characterize the Mycenaean mortuary koine despite some regional preferences and par-ticularities.
An important change from Middle Helladic to Mycenaean burial traditions was the loca-tion of graves outside of the settlement. Lo-cation was far from an arbitrary factor when choosing a space for a burial. In the early years of the Mycenaean period (pre-LH II) most of the mortuary landscape was located in close proximity to settlements; in Myce-nae, the Prehistoric Cemetery is directly ad-jacent to the settlement (though admittedly the boundaries are not clear – also because of the complex excavation history of this area). This closeness in many cases gra-dually shifts to tombs and cemeteries away from settlements; still within short walking distance, the neighboring hill or slope, but not just outside the settlement area any-more (Wells 1990, 128). The shift from tramural to extramural burial has been in-terpreted in various contexts as a change in ideology towards the dead (see Parker Pear-son 124-141 for more thorough discussion). Traditionally, burial types are classified into two general categories in Mycenaean stu-dies: the simple graves, including pits, cists, and pithoi, and the monumental/more ela-borate tombs: chamber tombs, tholoi, and tumuli (Cavanagh and Mee 1998, 124-125). Shaft graves, though sometimes categorized as simple graves (as was done in Chapter 7 of this dissertation for reasons outlined therein), could be placed in an intermediate category together with built tombs. The primary difference between the tholos and chamber tomb is their construction; the tholos is made of cut stones placed in a cor-belled fashion to create a beehive chamber, whereas the chamber tomb was carved out of soft bedrock. These tombs are considered monumental because a certain amount of materials and labor had to be organized.
The monumental construction of tholoi, chambers tombs and tumuli all entailed a certain level of planning and mobilization of labor (Cavanagh and Mee 1998, 78-79, 124). The building process itself must have com-manded a presence in the society as labor-intensive facilities for the dead had to be built, re-used, and maintained over time. However, tomb type is not always so clear-cut; there are other ambiguous categories such as large cist or pit graves, built tombs, shaft graves, and rudimentary tholoi (Papa-dimitriou 2015). Additionally, the simple graves declined in use overall, but they were also incorporated within the monumental forms, as seen in the small cists or pits dug into the floor of a large chamber tomb. Shaft graves are an ambiguous category: some graves referred to as shaft graves are actually large elaborate cist tombs. In ad-dition, the Shaft Graves in Mycenae required more energy expenditure than a small chamber tomb and some small, poorly built tholoi. However, these intermediate types (and the ensuing typological debates) are found mostly in the Prepalatial period. By the Palatial Period, tomb construction was dominated by two forms designed for reuse: the tholos and the chamber tomb (Cavanagh and Mee 1998, 41-60). These tomb types were similar in many architectural features such as the tripartite lay-out of dromos (narrow entryway), stomion (door), and chamber. While the tholos has traditionally been considered to be the “elite” tomb type, the lines are blurred for rudimentary tholoi and large regular, well-cut chamber tombs containing exotic, wealthy grave goods (Ca-vanagh and Mee 1998, 125). The chamber tomb is the most common tomb type with thousands of examples scattered all over the known Mycenaean world.
Turning to grave goods, the lavish objects, such as the golden masks and jewelry found in the Shaft Graves are not representative of Mycenaean grave goods in general but
5 rather, they are a unique case reflecting a specific time and place of conspicuous consumption via mortuary display (Shel-merdine 1997, 561; Voutsaki 1998). After this early competitive display in Mycenaean burial practices, there is a typical burial assemblage of artifacts, though with consi-derable variations, found in Mycenaean tombs. More commonly, burials were fur-nished with drinking vessels, such as kylikes or storage vessels, such as the characteristic stirrup jars. By LH IIB Mycenaean style and repertoire is clearly established and found in graves all over the Greek Mainland and even in burials at Knossos (Shelmerdine 1997, 561). Occasionally swords, knives, and other weapons are found in Mycenaean graves during the Palatial Period and espe-cially during the Post-Palatial Period (Cavanagh and Mee 1998, 50-51, 69, 95). So-called “Warrior Graves” complete with swords and knives with artistic rendering of hunting or military scenes are common in Achaia during the Post-Palatial Period (Shelmerdine 1997, 561).
In conclusion, burial traditions in the Myce-naean world were far from homogeneous. Burial styles changed greatly through time and in space during the roughly 500 years of Mycenaean cultural influence. Latest re-search has moved away from the emphasis on status in Mycenaean burials and has turned towards reconstructing the nuances of Mycenaean mortuary practices. Recently, various scholars have argued that although burial was a place to exhibit social differen-ces, it was also an opportunity for esta-blishing and displaying social cohesion and identity formation (Boyd 2015b;2016; Pa-padimitriou 2016; Voutsaki 2012; Moutafi and Voutsaki 2016).
1.2.2 Mycenaean Secondary Burial
The practice of multiple burial and tomb reuse has been a part of Greek prehistory at various times, but these complex mortuary acts are found mostly from the transition to
the Mycenaean period onwards (as outlined below). In stark contrast to the normal bu-rial repertoire of the Middle Helladic period, they do bear some similarity with the Early Helladic mortuary practices though there is variation during this period as well (Preve-dorou 2015; Preve(Preve-dorou and Stojanowski 2017; Weiberg 2013).
During the early formative years of Myce-naean mortuary practices, grave reuse in cists and pits precludes secondary and col-lective burial. The Shaft Graves of Mycenae are a good example; the graves were con-structed for initial interment and then reopened for multiple dead persons to be added with the bones of previously buried persons either separated by a layer of gravel and soil or moved to the sides of the tomb (Wells 1990, 135; Cavanagh and Mee 1998, 76). When tholoi and chamber tombs became fully adopted and part of the mor-tuary program, these more enclosed spaces with extensive postmortem manipulation created the well-recognized secondary and collective burial assemblages. Within the category of secondary burial, a distinction is often made between the piles of bones moved to the inner walls of the tomb and the bones packed into pits cut into the tomb floor. These deposits of disarticulated hu-man remains are both termed anakomidi in Greek archaeology, literally meaning “trans-ferred”. Secondary burials, in niches or cists cut into the floor, the wall or the dromos of these tombs become widespread and the scattering of bones in tombs, seen in detail in Petroto, also becomes more common (Wells 1990, 126). Secondary burial was merely one, often final, act of the burial program in many mortuary contexts. In short, secondary burial is a small snapshot of a larger whole in which all actions, both natural processes such as decomposition, and cultural acts such as the positioning of the body during primary burial or inten-tional or accidental disarticulation of earlier burials, can potentially affect the final burial
6 deposit. An example of these types of burial are found at Dendra, where Tomb 10 pre-sents a case of secondary burial in which a disarticulated skeleton was interred in a small pit accompanied by grave goods. On the other hand, Tomb 6 at Dendra contains multiple sets of human remains that have been 'scattered about in disorder' (Wells 1990, 135). It has been suggested that the deceased had become the collective dead so that new burials could be introduced (Wells 1990, 135).
The Mycenaean practice of postmortem ma-nipulation is distinctive within Late Helladic contexts. While secondary manipulation of skeletal remains is a widespread, common feature of Mycenaean mortuary practices, it is a defining characteristic during this pe-riod. In addition, postmortem manipulation, although a common occurrence in Mycenae-an graves Mycenae-and tombs, is also a variable practice. Deposits of disarticulated human remains may be mixed with animal remains (some intrusive, but others likely deposited along with the human bodies), reburied within pits or left exposed on the tomb floor, found in piles, both orderly or hap-hazard, and they may be accompanied by grave goods or completely unfurnished. This variation within the practice is a par-ticularly puzzling aspect and may relate to timing of burial, personal preference, social status, biological characteristics of the dead, cause of death, etc. Regardless, the so-called ‘secondary burials’ are a complex and poor-ly understood feature of Mycenaean mortu-ary practices.
1.2.3 The History of Mycenaean Bioarchaeology
In the late 1930s when J. Lawrence Angel conducted his dissertation research on hu-man remains from well-known sites, such as the Athenian Agora (Angel 1945) he truly pioneered the use of human remains as a source for reconstructing ancient Greek populations (Jacobson and Cullen 1990;
Buikstra and Lagia 2009). From then on, Angel engaged with various research themes using Greek skeletal samples, inclu-ding population movements and mortality rates. Angel’s approach focused on esta-blishing death ratios by age and sex in order to calculate adult lifespans, female fertility, and average lengths of generations. His ulti-mate goal was the reconstruction of popula-tion and household sizes (Angel 1969, 428– 33). Additionally, his pioneering research of the pathological condition known as porotic hyperostosis is still relevant and cited in current paleopathological research (Angel 1964; Angel 1966). In particular, Angel’s work with Mycenaean human remains in-cluded sites such as Asine (Angel 1982), Pylos (Bisel and Angel 1985), Athens (Angel 1945, 1946), Mycenae (1973), and Lerna (Angel 1971). Termed “social biology”, Angel’s focus on human remains using scientific methodology was a certainly a turning point in Greek bioarchaeology that paved the way for later generations.
Despite Angel’s scientific rigor in Greek ar-chaeology, some of his methods have been shown to be unreliable and unfortunately some of his interpretations have been re-peated without further testing. For example, his sex estimations of children and infants and his use of parturition pits for estimating fertility are regarded as unreliable today (Buikstra and Lagia 2009). Despite the small sample size of his Mycenaean study of Pylos, he reported that males were overrepresen-ted, a conclusion that was repeated by va-rious scholars without further testing until recent evidence has shown otherwise (Sche-partz, Miller-Antonio, and Murphy 2009). Regardless, Angel’s legacy and his pionee-ring contributions to anthropological study in Greece cannot be denied.
While Angel’s work is well-known, bio-archaeological study in Greece is less preva-lent than in the United States and much of northern Europe; skeletal studies in Greece
7 have been a historically neglected field. However, this has changed dramatically in the last ten years since a noticeable increase in osteological research in Greece has begun by a new generation of Greek bioarchaeo-logists. Primarily trained in the US and the UK, this group of bioarchaeologists has in-tegrated innovative archaeological science techniques, such as isotopic and aDNA research, in order to usher in a new era of knowledge of the Mycenaean period. For example, beginning in 2009 a group of re-searchers went back to the human remains from the Shaft Graves and re-examined ma-terial (Papazoglou-Manioudaki et al 2012) with new techniques such as isotope ana-lysis (Prag et al 2009) and aDNA (Brown et al 2000; Bouwman et al 2008). Other site-specific studies within the Mycenaean world have been undertaken in almost every re-gion from the far north to the south.
Publications of skeletal studies covering a variety of time periods and sites have ex-panded our knowledge of the actual people populating these past cultures. Recently, whole volumes are dedicated to the re-search strides being made in Greece (for example, New Directions in the Skeletal
Biology of Greece). Likewise, many of the
recent bioarchaeological studies often ex-clusively focus on skeletal data in order to make inferences about community size, health, diet, and social status (Liston 2007; Papathanasiou, Richards, and Fox 2015; Rife et al. 2007; Schepartz, Miller-Antonio, and Murphy 2009; Triantaphyllou 2017; Wright et al. 2008; Voutsaki et al. 2013). This new wave of skeletal studies in Greece creates an environment that is more conducive to my research.
1.3 Research Problem and Aims
Although Angel’s groundbreaking research started bioarchaeological inquiry of Myce-naean burials, there are still substantial gaps in the discipline’s application in Greek archaeology. The new wave of
bioarchaeo-logists have certainly provided crucial data for reconstructing some aspects of Myce-naean culture or biology such as mortuary practices, demography, and pathology, there have been no bioarchaeological analyses beyond the site level. However, the overall growing enthusiasm for bioarchaeological study in Mycenaean research makes it a good time to add a question-oriented, regional and supra-regional study to this literature. The overall objective of my PhD research is to reconstruct Mycenaean mor-tuary practices using a bioarchaeological approach. Therefore, I aim to integrate human remains with archaeological context in order to reconstruct mortuary practices and burial demography. For this research, I focused on reconstructing the burial process using taphonomic methods (Chapter 3), ra-diocarbon to evaluate the timing of burials (Chapter 4), and paleodemography to hypo-thesize about patterns of burial exclusion based on biological age or sex (Chapters 5 and 6). Rather than a single site-level study, this dissertation analyses multiple sites in the non-palatial, peripheral Mycenaean re-gion of Achaia (Chalandritsa, Petroto, and Portes), combines this data for a regional study, and then synthesizes data at the intra-regional level.
In addition, this dissertation utilizes legacy data in order to demonstrate that it can be a worthwhile dataset for mortuary research. Although not without challenges, legacy data, such as tomb plans and excavation notes, provide invaluable insight into the complicated tomb histories. There exist a large number of skeletal remains awaiting study in various storerooms and museums in Greece. This legacy data was often the result of rescue excavations and are frequently considered undesirable for bioarchaeolo-gical study due to the varying excavation methods, uneven documenta-tion, poor pre- servadocumenta-tion, or access to in-formation. However legacy data hold un-realized potential because they are often
01
6 deposit. An example of these types of burial are found at Dendra, where Tomb 10 pre-sents a case of secondary burial in which a disarticulated skeleton was interred in a small pit accompanied by grave goods. On the other hand, Tomb 6 at Dendra contains multiple sets of human remains that have been 'scattered about in disorder' (Wells 1990, 135). It has been suggested that the deceased had become the collective dead so that new burials could be introduced (Wells 1990, 135).
The Mycenaean practice of postmortem ma-nipulation is distinctive within Late Helladic contexts. While secondary manipulation of skeletal remains is a widespread, common feature of Mycenaean mortuary practices, it is a defining characteristic during this pe-riod. In addition, postmortem manipulation, although a common occurrence in Mycenae-an graves Mycenae-and tombs, is also a variable practice. Deposits of disarticulated human remains may be mixed with animal remains (some intrusive, but others likely deposited along with the human bodies), reburied within pits or left exposed on the tomb floor, found in piles, both orderly or hap-hazard, and they may be accompanied by grave goods or completely unfurnished. This variation within the practice is a par-ticularly puzzling aspect and may relate to timing of burial, personal preference, social status, biological characteristics of the dead, cause of death, etc. Regardless, the so-called ‘secondary burials’ are a complex and poor-ly understood feature of Mycenaean mortu-ary practices.
1.2.3 The History of Mycenaean Bioarchaeology
In the late 1930s when J. Lawrence Angel conducted his dissertation research on hu-man remains from well-known sites, such as the Athenian Agora (Angel 1945) he truly pioneered the use of human remains as a source for reconstructing ancient Greek populations (Jacobson and Cullen 1990;
Buikstra and Lagia 2009). From then on, Angel engaged with various research themes using Greek skeletal samples, inclu-ding population movements and mortality rates. Angel’s approach focused on esta-blishing death ratios by age and sex in order to calculate adult lifespans, female fertility, and average lengths of generations. His ulti-mate goal was the reconstruction of popula-tion and household sizes (Angel 1969, 428– 33). Additionally, his pioneering research of the pathological condition known as porotic hyperostosis is still relevant and cited in current paleopathological research (Angel 1964; Angel 1966). In particular, Angel’s work with Mycenaean human remains in-cluded sites such as Asine (Angel 1982), Pylos (Bisel and Angel 1985), Athens (Angel 1945, 1946), Mycenae (1973), and Lerna (Angel 1971). Termed “social biology”, Angel’s focus on human remains using scientific methodology was a certainly a turning point in Greek bioarchaeology that paved the way for later generations.
Despite Angel’s scientific rigor in Greek ar-chaeology, some of his methods have been shown to be unreliable and unfortunately some of his interpretations have been re-peated without further testing. For example, his sex estimations of children and infants and his use of parturition pits for estimating fertility are regarded as unreliable today (Buikstra and Lagia 2009). Despite the small sample size of his Mycenaean study of Pylos, he reported that males were overrepresen-ted, a conclusion that was repeated by va-rious scholars without further testing until recent evidence has shown otherwise (Sche-partz, Miller-Antonio, and Murphy 2009). Regardless, Angel’s legacy and his pionee-ring contributions to anthropological study in Greece cannot be denied.
While Angel’s work is well-known, bio-archaeological study in Greece is less preva-lent than in the United States and much of northern Europe; skeletal studies in Greece
7 have been a historically neglected field. However, this has changed dramatically in the last ten years since a noticeable increase in osteological research in Greece has begun by a new generation of Greek bioarchaeo-logists. Primarily trained in the US and the UK, this group of bioarchaeologists has in-tegrated innovative archaeological science techniques, such as isotopic and aDNA research, in order to usher in a new era of knowledge of the Mycenaean period. For example, beginning in 2009 a group of re-searchers went back to the human remains from the Shaft Graves and re-examined ma-terial (Papazoglou-Manioudaki et al 2012) with new techniques such as isotope ana-lysis (Prag et al 2009) and aDNA (Brown et al 2000; Bouwman et al 2008). Other site-specific studies within the Mycenaean world have been undertaken in almost every re-gion from the far north to the south.
Publications of skeletal studies covering a variety of time periods and sites have ex-panded our knowledge of the actual people populating these past cultures. Recently, whole volumes are dedicated to the re-search strides being made in Greece (for example, New Directions in the Skeletal
Biology of Greece). Likewise, many of the
recent bioarchaeological studies often ex-clusively focus on skeletal data in order to make inferences about community size, health, diet, and social status (Liston 2007; Papathanasiou, Richards, and Fox 2015; Rife et al. 2007; Schepartz, Miller-Antonio, and Murphy 2009; Triantaphyllou 2017; Wright et al. 2008; Voutsaki et al. 2013). This new wave of skeletal studies in Greece creates an environment that is more conducive to my research.
1.3 Research Problem and Aims
Although Angel’s groundbreaking research started bioarchaeological inquiry of Myce-naean burials, there are still substantial gaps in the discipline’s application in Greek archaeology. The new wave of
bioarchaeo-logists have certainly provided crucial data for reconstructing some aspects of Myce-naean culture or biology such as mortuary practices, demography, and pathology, there have been no bioarchaeological analyses beyond the site level. However, the overall growing enthusiasm for bioarchaeological study in Mycenaean research makes it a good time to add a question-oriented, regional and supra-regional study to this literature. The overall objective of my PhD research is to reconstruct Mycenaean mor-tuary practices using a bioarchaeological approach. Therefore, I aim to integrate human remains with archaeological context in order to reconstruct mortuary practices and burial demography. For this research, I focused on reconstructing the burial process using taphonomic methods (Chapter 3), ra-diocarbon to evaluate the timing of burials (Chapter 4), and paleodemography to hypo-thesize about patterns of burial exclusion based on biological age or sex (Chapters 5 and 6). Rather than a single site-level study, this dissertation analyses multiple sites in the non-palatial, peripheral Mycenaean re-gion of Achaia (Chalandritsa, Petroto, and Portes), combines this data for a regional study, and then synthesizes data at the intra-regional level.
In addition, this dissertation utilizes legacy data in order to demonstrate that it can be a worthwhile dataset for mortuary research. Although not without challenges, legacy data, such as tomb plans and excavation notes, provide invaluable insight into the complicated tomb histories. There exist a large number of skeletal remains awaiting study in various storerooms and museums in Greece. This legacy data was often the result of rescue excavations and are frequently considered undesirable for bioarchaeolo-gical study due to the varying excavation methods, uneven documenta-tion, poor pre- servadocumenta-tion, or access to in-formation. However legacy data hold un-realized potential because they are often
8 accompanied by high quality excavation notes and are already excavated and ready to be studied. It is crucial that when using legacy data that contextual information, in-cluding excavation notes, photos, plans and any associated publications, be consulted during skeletal data collection and interpre-tation. In this study, I chose only certain tombs from the various study sites (outlined in the sections below) due to good docu-mentation. This documentation consists of tomb plans and excavation photos. Thus, there is a strong need in Mycenaean re-search to overcome the challenges (and associated stigma) of legacy data by readily including them into bioarcheological ana-lyses. In addition, there is a need to use human skeletal legacy data in order to de-monstrate the potential of skeletal studies to ensure that human remains are safely stored after excavation and available for study in the future.
1.4 Methodology: A Bioarchaeological Approach
1.4.1 Bioarchaeology
The interdisciplinary framework, in which the data of this project are analyzed and interpreted, is commonly termed as
bioar-chaeology. Bioarchaeology is a word coined
originally as a general purpose term refer-ring to any organic remains (human, animal, plant) in archaeological studies (Clark 1972). However, it was Jane Buikstra who, in 1976 at a regional conference in the U.S.A. defined this term as it is known today: a problem-orientated study of human skeletal remains and their associated archaeological contexts (Buikstra and Beck 2006, xvii). This discipline aims to integrate the skeletal and archaeological researcher as one scien-tist trained in osteology with an archae-ological focus. Osteology cannot be prac-ticed in a meaningful way in archaeological studies without the context of the skeletal material. Likewise, burial studies cannot
make informed interpretation without the actual body from the burial; there must be a relationship of collaboration and equality. Over the decades, bioarchaeologists have produced a great deal of informed, problem-oriented skeletal studies.
1.4.2 Archaeological Context
Since I was not present at the excavation, a thorough study of the original notes, draw-ings and lists of each excavation was con-ducted prior to the skeletal data collection. These careful and meticulously handwritten notes made by the lead excavator in the field contain vital information for recon-structing the burial context for each ceme-tery, tomb, and grave. Noting the stratigra-phy of the tomb is essential for understan-ding the depositional processes of the context and for helping delineate the burials within their seemingly disorganized piles of bones. The plans and drawings of the tombs also depict the original site context con-taining evidence that is now buried, for example at least one site (Chalandritsa) has been covered and is now sheep pasture. The original excavation notes for the Petroto tholos1 were used alongside the already
published information as an integral part of the description and interpretation of the archaeological context. For Chalandritsa2, I
developed a close working relationship with Konstantina Aktypi, who was in the process of studying and has since published an archaeological analysis of the Chalandritsa cemetery (see Aktypi 2017). Unfortunately, access to the diary, and some photos and
1 I would like to thank Michalis Petropoulos for
his kind permission to work on the human remains from Petroto and for his wonderful collaboration the past five years.
2 I would like to thank Michalis Petropoulos and
Maria Stavropoulou-Gatsi for their kind
permission to work on the human remains from Chalandritsa.
9 drawings for Portes3 were not granted; thus,
only a few chamber tombs were used in this study.
1.4.3 Anthropological Methodology
Generally, skeletal study involves a detailed assessment of osteological characteristics such as age, sex, stature, and pathology. The project research design employed standard osteological method to air recording of the material. The majority of the burials date to the Palatial and Post-Palatial pe-riods (LH IIIA-C), and much of the material is from secondary burial contexts because this was the typical interment practice for this time period. This sample is ideal for a focus on secondary burial, but less than ideal and rather difficult for the skeletal analysis aspect.
Standard bioarchaeological methodology in-cludes estimating the Minimum Number of Individuals (MNI), age, and sex. The MNI is calculated by sorting bones by element and side then calculating the overlap within sided element groups (White 1953). For example, if two right humeri are recovered and identified along with three left humeri, then the bone assemblage represents a minimum of three individuals. Estimating age, sex, and MNI for the burial deposits in the tombs is the base of the bioarchae-ological assessment in Chapters 3-6. This basic information is then integrated with the contextual archaeological record to exa-mine features of the population in general and to examine secondary burial actions in particular. The excavation archive is tho-roughly incorporated during the analysis in order to reconstruct the context within in each tomb or burial.
Apart from the standard methodology, My-cenaean burials are a difficult dataset due to
3 I would like to thank Lazaros Kolonas for his
kind permission to work on the human remains from Portes.
their commingled and fragmented human remains. Termed “commingled burials”, the issue of multiple individuals in a single mortuary space is challenging but by no means unprecedented (e.g. Osterholtz, Bau-stain, and Martin 2015). Commingling is not confirmed until a duplicate bone is noted, such as the presence of two right humeri (Ubelaker 2002, 332). Commingled secon-dary burials often also have poor skeletal preservation because the bones have been moved and manipulated, actions that can incur damage to the bones. Commingled graves with varying states of preservation have characterized human history for mil-lennia and, though difficult, many osteo-logists and forensic scientists have devised methods for dealing with them. For example, I use the Minimum number of ele-ments (MNE) in order to more accurately calculate MNI. Minimum number of ele-ments is cal-culated in a similar fashion but rather than the full skeleton, the bone elements are the minimal units (for a discussion of MNE calculations see Marean et al. 2001). Once the MNE is estimated, this is then used for an estimation of MNI. Skeletal studies often involve multiple tech-niques for making the best possible esti-mation of age, sex, etc. and dealing with poor preservation and commingling is no different. Therefore, a variety of methods are used to analyze this difficult material. Methodologies include contextual site infor-mation, processes of taphonomy, osteo-metric comparison, and articulation. If bioarchaeoogists only ascertained skeletal sex from the cranial traits, they would be missing the more accurate methods for estimation from the os coxae; in this way, I evaluate various types of information before final interpretation.
Taphonomy
Archaeologists interpreting disarticulated or commingled burials that may appear to be secondary, should keep in mind that “the
01
8 accompanied by high quality excavation notes and are already excavated and ready to be studied. It is crucial that when using legacy data that contextual information, in-cluding excavation notes, photos, plans and any associated publications, be consulted during skeletal data collection and interpre-tation. In this study, I chose only certain tombs from the various study sites (outlined in the sections below) due to good docu-mentation. This documentation consists of tomb plans and excavation photos. Thus, there is a strong need in Mycenaean re-search to overcome the challenges (and associated stigma) of legacy data by readily including them into bioarcheological ana-lyses. In addition, there is a need to use human skeletal legacy data in order to de-monstrate the potential of skeletal studies to ensure that human remains are safely stored after excavation and available for study in the future.
1.4 Methodology: A Bioarchaeological Approach
1.4.1 Bioarchaeology
The interdisciplinary framework, in which the data of this project are analyzed and interpreted, is commonly termed as
bioar-chaeology. Bioarchaeology is a word coined
originally as a general purpose term refer-ring to any organic remains (human, animal, plant) in archaeological studies (Clark 1972). However, it was Jane Buikstra who, in 1976 at a regional conference in the U.S.A. defined this term as it is known today: a problem-orientated study of human skeletal remains and their associated archaeological contexts (Buikstra and Beck 2006, xvii). This discipline aims to integrate the skeletal and archaeological researcher as one scien-tist trained in osteology with an archae-ological focus. Osteology cannot be prac-ticed in a meaningful way in archaeological studies without the context of the skeletal material. Likewise, burial studies cannot
make informed interpretation without the actual body from the burial; there must be a relationship of collaboration and equality. Over the decades, bioarchaeologists have produced a great deal of informed, problem-oriented skeletal studies.
1.4.2 Archaeological Context
Since I was not present at the excavation, a thorough study of the original notes, draw-ings and lists of each excavation was con-ducted prior to the skeletal data collection. These careful and meticulously handwritten notes made by the lead excavator in the field contain vital information for recon-structing the burial context for each ceme-tery, tomb, and grave. Noting the stratigra-phy of the tomb is essential for understan-ding the depositional processes of the context and for helping delineate the burials within their seemingly disorganized piles of bones. The plans and drawings of the tombs also depict the original site context con-taining evidence that is now buried, for example at least one site (Chalandritsa) has been covered and is now sheep pasture. The original excavation notes for the Petroto tholos1 were used alongside the already
published information as an integral part of the description and interpretation of the archaeological context. For Chalandritsa2, I
developed a close working relationship with Konstantina Aktypi, who was in the process of studying and has since published an archaeological analysis of the Chalandritsa cemetery (see Aktypi 2017). Unfortunately, access to the diary, and some photos and
1 I would like to thank Michalis Petropoulos for
his kind permission to work on the human remains from Petroto and for his wonderful collaboration the past five years.
2 I would like to thank Michalis Petropoulos and
Maria Stavropoulou-Gatsi for their kind
permission to work on the human remains from Chalandritsa.
9 drawings for Portes3 were not granted; thus,
only a few chamber tombs were used in this study.
1.4.3 Anthropological Methodology
Generally, skeletal study involves a detailed assessment of osteological characteristics such as age, sex, stature, and pathology. The project research design employed standard osteological method to air recording of the material. The majority of the burials date to the Palatial and Post-Palatial pe-riods (LH IIIA-C), and much of the material is from secondary burial contexts because this was the typical interment practice for this time period. This sample is ideal for a focus on secondary burial, but less than ideal and rather difficult for the skeletal analysis aspect.
Standard bioarchaeological methodology in-cludes estimating the Minimum Number of Individuals (MNI), age, and sex. The MNI is calculated by sorting bones by element and side then calculating the overlap within sided element groups (White 1953). For example, if two right humeri are recovered and identified along with three left humeri, then the bone assemblage represents a minimum of three individuals. Estimating age, sex, and MNI for the burial deposits in the tombs is the base of the bioarchae-ological assessment in Chapters 3-6. This basic information is then integrated with the contextual archaeological record to exa-mine features of the population in general and to examine secondary burial actions in particular. The excavation archive is tho-roughly incorporated during the analysis in order to reconstruct the context within in each tomb or burial.
Apart from the standard methodology, My-cenaean burials are a difficult dataset due to
3 I would like to thank Lazaros Kolonas for his
kind permission to work on the human remains from Portes.
their commingled and fragmented human remains. Termed “commingled burials”, the issue of multiple individuals in a single mortuary space is challenging but by no means unprecedented (e.g. Osterholtz, Bau-stain, and Martin 2015). Commingling is not confirmed until a duplicate bone is noted, such as the presence of two right humeri (Ubelaker 2002, 332). Commingled secon-dary burials often also have poor skeletal preservation because the bones have been moved and manipulated, actions that can incur damage to the bones. Commingled graves with varying states of preservation have characterized human history for mil-lennia and, though difficult, many osteo-logists and forensic scientists have devised methods for dealing with them. For example, I use the Minimum number of ele-ments (MNE) in order to more accurately calculate MNI. Minimum number of ele-ments is cal-culated in a similar fashion but rather than the full skeleton, the bone elements are the minimal units (for a discussion of MNE calculations see Marean et al. 2001). Once the MNE is estimated, this is then used for an estimation of MNI. Skeletal studies often involve multiple tech-niques for making the best possible esti-mation of age, sex, etc. and dealing with poor preservation and commingling is no different. Therefore, a variety of methods are used to analyze this difficult material. Methodologies include contextual site infor-mation, processes of taphonomy, osteo-metric comparison, and articulation. If bioarchaeoogists only ascertained skeletal sex from the cranial traits, they would be missing the more accurate methods for estimation from the os coxae; in this way, I evaluate various types of information before final interpretation.
Taphonomy
Archaeologists interpreting disarticulated or commingled burials that may appear to be secondary, should keep in mind that “the
10 presence of dislocations, even numerous and important, do not exclude the primary characteristic of the deposit. In other words, evident disorder in the organization of the bones does not mean that they have been handled or moved after death” (Duday and Guillon 2006: 128). Thus, taphonomic me-thods are utilized here to reconstruct the effects from the natural burial environment and human actions.
Taphonomy in osteological and forensic contexts refers to a re-establishment of the processes of decomposition and decay of a body as “a relevant source of information on periburial activity” (Roskandic 2002, 100). The aim is to reconstruct both internal fac-tors, such as age, sex, body mass, cause of death and pathology, and external factors, such as burial treatment, environment, and time, as a means of understanding the state, location and condition of a body when found. Taphonomic methods used in this research include direct evidence of anthro-pogenic manipulation of bones, such as stone tool cut marks and percussion marks and indirect evidence, such as fragment size and dif-ferential representation of anatomi-cal elements (per Diez et al. 1999: 623– 624). Taphonomic study possesses a dual purpose: to identify the inherent biases of the sample and to make inferences about the processes that created the assemblage. The aim here, as in any context involving human remains, is “to recreate the past” exploiting all possible cultural and biolo-gical data in order to understand the human actions and natural processes involved in the formation of the deposit (e.g. the life history of a tomb) until the moment of excavation (Saul and Saul 2002: 72–73). An evaluation of purposeful manipulation versus taphonomic damage is crucial for understanding the sequence of actions or events that created the final deposit and will be explicitly addressed in Chapter 3 of this dissertation.
Paleodemography
Population reconstructions in archaeology (paleodemography) often rely on estima-tions of skeletal age and sex and are cha-racterized by a long and complicated history (Bocquet-Appel and Masset 1982). Archae-ologists, physical anthropArchae-ologists, and eco-nomists have utilized paleodemography to reconstruct past populations (Chamberlain 2006) while others have been more critical (Bocquet-Appel and Masset 1982). Age-at-death estimation that are unable to pre-cisely estimate old age and burial samples that are biased due to mortuary practices have dis- couraged many from engaging in paleo demographic studies (Bocquet-Appel and Masset 1982). However, many others have seen the value in paleodemography when properly and cautiously executed for reconstructions of regional skeletal samples (e.g. Konigsberg and Buikstra 1995). As opposed to site-based studies, regional samples are vital for identifying larger patterns within the archaeological data. A regional evaluation of demographic patterns in Mycenaean Achaia is addressed in Chap-ter 4, while a supra-regional evaluation of Mycenaean demography comprises Chapter 6 of this dissertation.
1.4.4 Laboratory Procedures: Cleaning, Transportation and Analysis of Material The analysis of the material required a num-ber of important logistical stages in which to prepare, package, transport, and store the material for high quality scientific research. The material was transported from the storerooms in Patras to the Malcolm H. Wie-ner Laboratory for Archaeological Science (WL) of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens and stored in their cli-mate-controlled facility during the cleaning and data collection stages of the project. This stage took place September 2013- December 2014. The study of the material at the WL was crucial since no such facility exists elsewhere in Greece. The WL houses
11 various scientific researchers to engage with, learn from, and generally discuss mutual issues. This intellectual atmosphere was important for my research and nearly as significant as the physical equipment of the laboratory.
First, the bones were safely and thoroughly cleaned. Cleaning bone is a fairly straight-forward process involving both wet and dry brushing depending on the preservation of each bone element or fragment. Maximum care has been taken to ensure that little to no damage occurred to the bones in the cleaning and packing process. During the cleaning stage, the bones were often sorted into rough anatomical categories such as cranial, long bones, os coxae/scapula, and hand/feet. Normally, data collection would be completed while the bones were drying so that they were handled a minimal num-ber of times. However, if necessary, the material was packed and would later be accessed for data collection. When packing the bones, all identified bones or fragments were placed in conservation-grade bags and punctured with tiny holes for adequate ventilation. Extremely fragile material was wrapped in acid-free paper to prevent any further fragmentation and damage. Each bag contained a small Tyvek label with the bone ident-ification number (linked to the database), context information, and the bone element and side (e.g. “right scapula”) written on it.
The study of the skeletal material included the use of the WL’s human, dental, and animal comparative collection in order to identify the frequently fragmented, com-mingled skeletal remains. In a few cases use of the X-rays provided essential informa-tion. In particular, the material from Petroto contained a cranium and mandible with an abnormally shaped occipital possibly in-dicative of cranial modification or a path-ological condition. Radiography helped in these rare cases. Apart from the occasional
use of the X-ray machine, the most impor-tant equipment for my research was simply space, a comparative skeletal collection, and bibliographic resources.
1.5 The Regional Context of Achaia
‘I doubt whether there is anything in Greece abounding as it is in enchanting scenery and interesting recollections that can rival the Corinthian Gulf. There is no lake scenery in Europe that can compete with it. Its coasts, broken into an infinite variety of outline by the ever-changing mixture of bold promontory, gentle slope, and cultivated level, are crowned on every side by lofty mountains of the most pleasing and majestic forms; the fine expanse of water enclosed in this noble frame…’ W.M. Leake, Travels in the Morea 397-8
The region of Achaia has many important advantages for a Mycenaean bioarchaeolo-gical study. There is an abundance of ceme-teries (i.e. large mortuary datasets), much of the excavation history is recent and there-fore, well-documented, and more recently a surge in research by scholars, both archae-ologists and bioarchaearchae-ologists. These ad-vantages enable a thorough regional synthe-sis of Achaia to be undertaken.
Achaia is a region within the Modern Greek nation located in the northwest part of the Peloponnese pennisula. The borders of the modern region have changed countless times during antiquity. However, the ge-neral location and name of the region has persisted through millennia. The capital of the region is the sprawling port city of Patras located on the northern coastal border on the Gulf of Patras (see Figure 2 and 3 for map and overall landscape). To-day’s modern population is largely centered in Patras, and as of 2001, the region had a population of approximately 300,000 inha-bitants. Patras, though thoroughly modern today, has ancient roots as evidenced by the
